James | Harry
James landed lightly, bounding off his broom and falling into a sprint without missing a beat. He was heading in the direction of a far too familiar mop of black hair on the other side of the pitch.
He would have expected to be more annoyed about having lost. James, as a rule, was not keen on losing. But it turned out it was hard to be too pissed off when there were other Potters on the pitch absolutely nailing it. Plus, he reckoned they hadn't done too badly with 540, considering Remus wasn't a chaser and had been facing a professional. Next time, however...
James crossed the pitch quickly, yelling out to Harry as soon as he was within earshot.
"You alright?"
It had been quite a dive after all. Still, he didn't give Harry much time to answer. Seconds late, a beaming James skidded to a halt beside his son, clapping him hard on the back and reaching up to ruffle his hair, leaving them both looking faintly like they'd been hit by lightning.