Neville couldn’t see him, but he knew James had followed him down to the edge of the grounds. He knew James was hiding under his father’s cloak, just beyond the brush. He smiled softly to himself thinking about how James, much like Harry, always assumed he was undetectable under that sodding cloak. Little did he know that Neville was keenly aware of James presence. The feel of his eyes, the hard and soft ridges of his body, that bloody hair.