Fic: Of Bundimun and Billywigs and Gillyweed and Things
Part 11 of a mini-arc written for mwpp_mischief 's Marauding Mishaps and Happenings fest. Originally posted here.
Title: Of Bundimun and Billywigs and Gillyweed and Things
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG-13, for a filthy drugs habit and because James still, despite many scrubbings from McGonagall, has a filthy mouth.
Word Count: 2,762
Prompt: Day 11
Summary: Potions lead to a heavy amount of substance abuse and several new and horrifying revelations.
“Absolutely not,” Remus declared, shaking his head. James whined and tried to pull his best puppy dog eyes, but it was to no avail. Remus stood firm as stone.
“But Moooooooony, it would be so funny!”
“James, do you remember what happened last time?”
Sheepishly, James rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But Moony, we’ll be so much more careful this time! We are two years older and two years wiser!”
“By which you mean you’ve had two years to forget how awful it was last time,” Remus grumbled, pushing the sleeves of his robes out of his way so that he could cut his potions ingredients properly. Sirius, at the other bench with Peter, craned his neck to try and hear their discussion. (James and Sirius had been separated forcibly at the beginning of term in nearly every single one of their classes, so Peter and Remus took it in turns to sit with them. Remus had drawn Potions with James - which was just as well because he was so awful at it that he desperately needed James’ steady hand and ridiculously quick reflexes.)
“What’s he suggesting this time, Moony?”
Remus sighed. He didn’t particularly want to tell Sirius; putting ideas in his head never went well.
“He wants to make an Unctuous Unction for you know who.”
Sirius nodded - for Lily, of course - but looked confused nonetheless.
“But what good would an Unctuous Unction do? You don’t just want to be her friend, Prongs.”
“Nor do you want to end up like good ol’ Greg the Smarmster,” quipped Remus with false humor. “And it needs essence of Bundimun, fresh.”
Sirius’ face turned from slight confusion to one of horror.
“Oh ye gods, no, Prongs, don't remember what happened last time?”
“Yes, thanks, I do remember having four toes eviscerated by very painful Albanian Bundimun juice, I was the one that had to grow them back. But it would work so very well. Shit, Moony, what are you doing, counterclockwise, you dolt!”
“Fuck,” Remus cursed, and backed away from the table. “I give up, you do this.”
“No, Moony, you’ve got to stir your own or it won’t work, and you know Sluggy’s going to make sure they don’t all smell the same. Look, come on, it’s not hard. Honestly, how you manage to be so shite at Potions when you’re such a genius in every other class is beyond me.”
“Potions don’t like me. They can tell,” Remus whined, gingerly stirring the amortentia the correct way this time.
“Ugh, I’m sure you’ve done it wrong anyways,” James sighed. “It just smells like wet dog. I’m fairly sure it’s meant to smell flowery and girly and nice.”
“James,” Remus deadpanned, looking James square in the face. “I’m gay. Flowery and girly and nice is my idea of hell. I’d rather it smelled like hippogriff dung than some horrible flowery perfume.”
James looked sheepish again; Sirius laughed at him, trying (and failing) to disguise it as a cough. James whirled on him.
“Shut it, Padfoot, what’s your’s smell like anyways, Snivellus’ arse?” Sirius glared and threw a piece of horned toad skin at him.
“Actually,” Peter pipped in, in a dire attempt to be helpful. “His smells more like books and chocolate and, oddly, Skele-gro.”
“Thanks, Wormtail. At least it doesn’t smell like gurdyroot. Gross, by the way, Wormtail, who have you been snogging?” Peter turned pink to the tips of his ears. Remus was fending off a minor catastrophe and so didn’t catch most of the conversation, but James was eyeing Sirius suspiciously over the top of Peter’s head. Sirius caught his eyes in passing, blushed inexplicably, and looked away.
After class, in which Remus managed to avoid exploding a single thing - he was happily telling this to Peter as they walked along the corridor to lunch - James accosted Sirius abruptly.
“Books, chocolate and Skele-gro?”
“Bugger off, Prongs,” Sirius muttered, trying to push away in the direction of the Great Hall.
“Screw lunch, come on,” James grabbed Sirius and pulled him out of the stream of students heading towards the Great Hall. He rummaged in his bag and found his invisibility cloak, and soon the two of them were heading towards Gryffindor tower.
“But James, I’m bloody starving.”
“We’ll get food later. Gillyweed first.”
Sirius protested, but he never really could resist the siren call of a joint on the roof.
They climbed out of their dormitory window and climbed to their favorite smoking place. Leaning on either side of the chimney, surrounded comfortably by a warming charm or two, they dangled their feet over the roof and looked out across the grounds. James pulled a joint out of a hidden compartment in his bag and lit it with the tip of his wand. He took a drag, savored it and handed the joint to Sirius, who followed suit.
“Going to tell me about it?” James asked, not looking at his friend.
“Nope,” Sirius replied stubbornly, taking another drag. It tasted slightly salty but the effect was most excellent, and James’ idea (from back in fourth year when they first discovered the joys of the artificial high) of adding a little billywig for a tickly happy feeling rounded off what, in Sirius’ mind, was pretty much perfection.
“You and Moony’ve been acting a bit strange lately,” James said, his voice loaded with intention.
“Bollocks,” Sirius spat disdainfully.
“You know, I’m not actually even making that up.” James sounded as if he was trying to be wise. Sirius thought grumpily that he wasn’t succeeding. “And you’ve definitely been odd lately. You’ve not actually shagged anyone since we’ve been back. I think that’s actually a record, you know.”
“How do you know I’ve not shagged anyone, been following me, pervert?”
“No - oi, greedy guts, share - I just know you,” James said, ominously, blowing smoke in Sirius’ face. Sirius coughed and waved it away, glaring. “So are you going to tell me why you’re all of a muddle?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re an awful, awful liar when you’re high, you know, Pads,” James smirked, passing the joint back to Sirius. “So you might as well give up.”
Sirius took another toke and leaned his head back against the chimney, closing his eyes. James was right - the bastard - he was an awful liar when he was high. The thing is, he’d been just as horrified as James was bemused when he realized what that potion smelled like. Just like he’d been horrified at the Mirror of Erised, and when he walked in on that horrible debacle that was Remus screwing Gideon’s brains out in a classroom.
“I think I might be going insane,” he said quietly, taking another drag. James took the joint from his fingers gently and took his own drag. They both watched the smoke drift away from them before James spoke again, much less obnoxiously this time, for which Sirius was grateful. James Potter was nothing if not your friend when you needed him to be.
“Are you in love with Moony?” James credited himself that he didn’t even let his voice waver.
Sirius sighed and, taking the joint back, put it between his lips and pulled at it slightly desperately, his head resting on his free hand.
“Is it weird that I honestly don’t know?” Sirius sounded about five years old, and scared.
“Kind of, but you’re not a normal kind of bloke, really,” James said, kindly. He looked over at Sirius, who was the picture of discomfort, biting his lip and toying with his hair, clutching the joint as if it was his lifeline.
“Oi, at least you know he swings the right way, if you wanted him to.” Sirius chuckled, but it was a dry, choking chuckle, and turned into a heavy sigh as he hid his face in both his hands.
“We’re going to have to hex each other so we can get out of class, you know,” he said through his palms. James laughed and shrugged.
“Nothing new there, then,” he said, plucking the joint back. “Oi. Tell me about it. It’ll help! And I promise I won’t judge.”
Sirius looked up and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re the best person in the world to give me romantic advice, I’m sure.”
“Fuck you, Black, at least I know who I like.”
Wincing, Sirius stole the joint and took a drag so long that James began to wonder how he could breathe in so much smoke.
“Need another one,” Sirius complained around a mouthful of smoke.
“Well no wonder, when you’re trying to smoke the whole bloody thing at once. Merlin, Pads. Here.” He passed Sirius another lit joint, against his better judgment, but then he wasn’t really one to lecture others on their smoking habits.
“I lied,” Sirius said, after another impressively long draw. “About the Mirror thing. You know, when you saw Lily? I lied.”
James smirked. “I figured. You’re a shite liar. Your nostrils flare. Actually, surprised McGonagall hasn’t noticed that yet. Anyways, I just figured you’d seen me, obviously.”
Sirius gave James a gentle shove in the shoulder. “I’m not a poof,” he said, forcibly.
“Don’t care if you are,” James said, nonchalantly.
“I’m really not. I really like breasts. I really do. They’re... you know...” Sirius mimed the shape of a pair of great imaginary breasts in the air in front of his face, joint between the fingers of his right hand.
“Don’t drop it! Merlin, Pads. Alright, so, you lied. What’d you see?”
Sirius sighed. “Moony,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I just saw me and Moony.”
“And...?”
“And he ... well. He kissed me, Prongs. And I nearly fell over right on top of that horrible bust of Noddy.”
“You mean Nobbly,” James corrected him, sagely in his own escalating state of nonsensical wisdom.
“Yes, right, whatever.”
“Well. Okay. Let’s approach this logically.” Sirius burst out laughing at that; hearing James speak of logic was so rare and so ridiculous it seemed the only thing to do. James ignored him. “So, apparently your heart’s greatest desire is for Moony to kiss you.”
“That mirror’s bloody broken,” Sirius grumbled.
“I really doubt it,” James countered, poking Sirius in the stomach. “Alright, anyways. So obviously you’d quite like it if he kissed you. Am I correct?”
“I really try not to think about it.”
“Well think about it now, then. Would you like it? And don’t try and lie, I’ll know.”
Sirius, taking another long drag on his joint, thought about what it would be like to have Remus kiss him. He imagined Remus bending over him, cradling his face in one of his abnormally large and strong hands, smoothing his hair out of his eyes with the other; pressing his lips against his. He’d be gentle at first, Moony always was gentle, but then he’d lose control and it would be more insistent, the wolf would come through a little and there’d be nips and bites and an insistent tongue and... Sirius’ stomach exploded in butterflies and he bit his lip, and he had to grip on to the chimney to stay upright.
He could hear James laughing at him and blushed, opening his eyes with a start.
“Well, fuck,” he said, vehemently. “That’s new and really, really horrifying. Gods, I feel like my skin is on fire, did you put too much Billywig in this?”
“You are so, so hot for Moony!” James crowed, earning himself a punch.
“Fuck,” Sirius moaned. “Fuck fuck fuck. James, help! This is not meant to happen!”
“Smoke more, it’ll help.”
“I might fall off the roof.”
“I’d catch you, don’t worry.”
“James, what am I going to do?”
“Snog him? Seems the logical thing to do. Gods, that sounds funny though. Padfoot and Moony. Snogging. Heh. Hehehe.”
“Prongs! This is not an appropriate time to get the giggles!”
“You fancy Moony, you fancy Moony! You want to snog him and love him and sex him all over.”
“Ugh, gods, no, James, shut up. Stop!”
But James was gone, making up limericks and songs - and even a sonnet - for the next several minutes. By the time he was done, though, Sirius was able to at least laugh about it - though he strongly suspected that was the Gillyweed.
Or maybe the Billywigs.
They were on their fourth joint, and the roof had become a blurry constant in Sirius’ swirling mind.
“D’you know what I noticed, Prongsy? T’other day, at Quidditch?”
“That you’re an enormous poofter and wanted to get me alone in the showers?”
“No, you great bloody pillock. S’Moony. His hair. It’s all... you know, colors.” Sirius made insane shapes in the air, as if to illustrate the colors; James nodded, understandingly. “Colors, and he looked like autumn, like a great big pile of leaves. All crunch and brown and stuff.”
“You’re an enormous poofter.”
“Fuck.”
“Fucked,” James corrected, grinning. Sirius groaned and smooshed his face into James’ shoulder. “Oi, gerroff, you’ll knock us both off.”
“Prongs, help me.”
“I can’t help you not be in love with Moony.”
“Fuck. Sounds weird.”
“Is weird.”
“Fucker.”
“Nah, I think that’s Moony.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t, you love me because I have helped you come to a great and important realization in life. I am James Potter, superfriend!”
“Sit down, you can’t fly without a broom, knobhead.”
“Can too.”
“No, you can’t, that’s the willybigs talking.”
“Bet Remus has a willybig. You can find out.”
They dissolved into mindless sniggers for a long time, until Sirius suddenly sat up.
“Fuck, James, I’m in love with Moony.”
“I know. We’ve been through this.”
“But he doesn’t love me! Prongs!”
“He’s an idiot if he doesn’t. I love you.”
“Poofter.”
“Only for you, you sexy dog.”
“Yeah my dog is sexy.”
“Ugh, that’s awful, Pads.”
“Your face is awful.”
“Your mum’s face is awful.”
“Yeah, it is rather.”
There was rather a lot more giggling until Sirius once again sat up suddenly.
“You’ve got to help me get him.”
“Get who?”
“Remus, gods, haven’t you been listening?”
“Oh, right. Why don’t you just go snog him?”
“He’d punch me.”
“Probably. And that would hurt. Fists like great boulders, he’s got.”
“Bloody werewolf.”
“You love him, though.”
“Fuck. Don’t remind me.”
“Alright. Operation Get Moony to Fall Madly and Stupidly in Ridiculous Homosexual Poofy Love for Padfoot, commencing... now. Gods. We’ve run out of gillyweed.”
“I hate you.”
“What?! What did I do?”
“You smoked all my weed.”
“You smoked two whole joints to yourself, you great pillock!”
“I still hate you.”
“Padfoot, you’re in love with Moony.”
“I know. This is shit.”
“No, you numpty, it’s great! You’re in love with Moony and I’m in love with Lily! We could have a joint wedding!”
“With Peter as flower girl, d’ya think?”
When Remus found them, an hour or so later, they were still howling on top of each other with incoherent laughter and had managed by only some strange feat of innate magic not to fall off the roof.
“You two are a bloody mess,” Remus commented, taking a seat next to them and pulling his smoking kit out of his pocket. “How much did you smoke?”
“I had two,” Sirius said proudly. “And most of the other ones.”
“I put too much willybig in,” James sniffed, but Sirius caught his eye and they started laughing again uncontrollably. Remus sighed and lit up his own joint.
“Moony! You have more! Let me have a smoke.” Sirius sidled up to Remus, nudging him in the shoulder. Remus sighed and handed him the joint.
“One toke,” he said firmly.
“I love youuuu,” Sirius crooned.
At that, James gave a cry of laughter and promptly fell off the roof, and was rescued only by some very fast wandwork by Remus, who then levitated both of them back to the safety of their beds, muttering to himself. “I don’t get paid nearly enough.”
“Moony! Come play with us!”
Remus ignored them and climbed out the window again, in search of some blessed peace and quiet.
Title: Of Bundimun and Billywigs and Gillyweed and Things
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG-13, for a filthy drugs habit and because James still, despite many scrubbings from McGonagall, has a filthy mouth.
Word Count: 2,762
Prompt: Day 11
Summary: Potions lead to a heavy amount of substance abuse and several new and horrifying revelations.
“Absolutely not,” Remus declared, shaking his head. James whined and tried to pull his best puppy dog eyes, but it was to no avail. Remus stood firm as stone.
“But Moooooooony, it would be so funny!”
“James, do you remember what happened last time?”
Sheepishly, James rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But Moony, we’ll be so much more careful this time! We are two years older and two years wiser!”
“By which you mean you’ve had two years to forget how awful it was last time,” Remus grumbled, pushing the sleeves of his robes out of his way so that he could cut his potions ingredients properly. Sirius, at the other bench with Peter, craned his neck to try and hear their discussion. (James and Sirius had been separated forcibly at the beginning of term in nearly every single one of their classes, so Peter and Remus took it in turns to sit with them. Remus had drawn Potions with James - which was just as well because he was so awful at it that he desperately needed James’ steady hand and ridiculously quick reflexes.)
“What’s he suggesting this time, Moony?”
Remus sighed. He didn’t particularly want to tell Sirius; putting ideas in his head never went well.
“He wants to make an Unctuous Unction for you know who.”
Sirius nodded - for Lily, of course - but looked confused nonetheless.
“But what good would an Unctuous Unction do? You don’t just want to be her friend, Prongs.”
“Nor do you want to end up like good ol’ Greg the Smarmster,” quipped Remus with false humor. “And it needs essence of Bundimun, fresh.”
Sirius’ face turned from slight confusion to one of horror.
“Oh ye gods, no, Prongs, don't remember what happened last time?”
“Yes, thanks, I do remember having four toes eviscerated by very painful Albanian Bundimun juice, I was the one that had to grow them back. But it would work so very well. Shit, Moony, what are you doing, counterclockwise, you dolt!”
“Fuck,” Remus cursed, and backed away from the table. “I give up, you do this.”
“No, Moony, you’ve got to stir your own or it won’t work, and you know Sluggy’s going to make sure they don’t all smell the same. Look, come on, it’s not hard. Honestly, how you manage to be so shite at Potions when you’re such a genius in every other class is beyond me.”
“Potions don’t like me. They can tell,” Remus whined, gingerly stirring the amortentia the correct way this time.
“Ugh, I’m sure you’ve done it wrong anyways,” James sighed. “It just smells like wet dog. I’m fairly sure it’s meant to smell flowery and girly and nice.”
“James,” Remus deadpanned, looking James square in the face. “I’m gay. Flowery and girly and nice is my idea of hell. I’d rather it smelled like hippogriff dung than some horrible flowery perfume.”
James looked sheepish again; Sirius laughed at him, trying (and failing) to disguise it as a cough. James whirled on him.
“Shut it, Padfoot, what’s your’s smell like anyways, Snivellus’ arse?” Sirius glared and threw a piece of horned toad skin at him.
“Actually,” Peter pipped in, in a dire attempt to be helpful. “His smells more like books and chocolate and, oddly, Skele-gro.”
“Thanks, Wormtail. At least it doesn’t smell like gurdyroot. Gross, by the way, Wormtail, who have you been snogging?” Peter turned pink to the tips of his ears. Remus was fending off a minor catastrophe and so didn’t catch most of the conversation, but James was eyeing Sirius suspiciously over the top of Peter’s head. Sirius caught his eyes in passing, blushed inexplicably, and looked away.
After class, in which Remus managed to avoid exploding a single thing - he was happily telling this to Peter as they walked along the corridor to lunch - James accosted Sirius abruptly.
“Books, chocolate and Skele-gro?”
“Bugger off, Prongs,” Sirius muttered, trying to push away in the direction of the Great Hall.
“Screw lunch, come on,” James grabbed Sirius and pulled him out of the stream of students heading towards the Great Hall. He rummaged in his bag and found his invisibility cloak, and soon the two of them were heading towards Gryffindor tower.
“But James, I’m bloody starving.”
“We’ll get food later. Gillyweed first.”
Sirius protested, but he never really could resist the siren call of a joint on the roof.
They climbed out of their dormitory window and climbed to their favorite smoking place. Leaning on either side of the chimney, surrounded comfortably by a warming charm or two, they dangled their feet over the roof and looked out across the grounds. James pulled a joint out of a hidden compartment in his bag and lit it with the tip of his wand. He took a drag, savored it and handed the joint to Sirius, who followed suit.
“Going to tell me about it?” James asked, not looking at his friend.
“Nope,” Sirius replied stubbornly, taking another drag. It tasted slightly salty but the effect was most excellent, and James’ idea (from back in fourth year when they first discovered the joys of the artificial high) of adding a little billywig for a tickly happy feeling rounded off what, in Sirius’ mind, was pretty much perfection.
“You and Moony’ve been acting a bit strange lately,” James said, his voice loaded with intention.
“Bollocks,” Sirius spat disdainfully.
“You know, I’m not actually even making that up.” James sounded as if he was trying to be wise. Sirius thought grumpily that he wasn’t succeeding. “And you’ve definitely been odd lately. You’ve not actually shagged anyone since we’ve been back. I think that’s actually a record, you know.”
“How do you know I’ve not shagged anyone, been following me, pervert?”
“No - oi, greedy guts, share - I just know you,” James said, ominously, blowing smoke in Sirius’ face. Sirius coughed and waved it away, glaring. “So are you going to tell me why you’re all of a muddle?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re an awful, awful liar when you’re high, you know, Pads,” James smirked, passing the joint back to Sirius. “So you might as well give up.”
Sirius took another toke and leaned his head back against the chimney, closing his eyes. James was right - the bastard - he was an awful liar when he was high. The thing is, he’d been just as horrified as James was bemused when he realized what that potion smelled like. Just like he’d been horrified at the Mirror of Erised, and when he walked in on that horrible debacle that was Remus screwing Gideon’s brains out in a classroom.
“I think I might be going insane,” he said quietly, taking another drag. James took the joint from his fingers gently and took his own drag. They both watched the smoke drift away from them before James spoke again, much less obnoxiously this time, for which Sirius was grateful. James Potter was nothing if not your friend when you needed him to be.
“Are you in love with Moony?” James credited himself that he didn’t even let his voice waver.
Sirius sighed and, taking the joint back, put it between his lips and pulled at it slightly desperately, his head resting on his free hand.
“Is it weird that I honestly don’t know?” Sirius sounded about five years old, and scared.
“Kind of, but you’re not a normal kind of bloke, really,” James said, kindly. He looked over at Sirius, who was the picture of discomfort, biting his lip and toying with his hair, clutching the joint as if it was his lifeline.
“Oi, at least you know he swings the right way, if you wanted him to.” Sirius chuckled, but it was a dry, choking chuckle, and turned into a heavy sigh as he hid his face in both his hands.
“We’re going to have to hex each other so we can get out of class, you know,” he said through his palms. James laughed and shrugged.
“Nothing new there, then,” he said, plucking the joint back. “Oi. Tell me about it. It’ll help! And I promise I won’t judge.”
Sirius looked up and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re the best person in the world to give me romantic advice, I’m sure.”
“Fuck you, Black, at least I know who I like.”
Wincing, Sirius stole the joint and took a drag so long that James began to wonder how he could breathe in so much smoke.
“Need another one,” Sirius complained around a mouthful of smoke.
“Well no wonder, when you’re trying to smoke the whole bloody thing at once. Merlin, Pads. Here.” He passed Sirius another lit joint, against his better judgment, but then he wasn’t really one to lecture others on their smoking habits.
“I lied,” Sirius said, after another impressively long draw. “About the Mirror thing. You know, when you saw Lily? I lied.”
James smirked. “I figured. You’re a shite liar. Your nostrils flare. Actually, surprised McGonagall hasn’t noticed that yet. Anyways, I just figured you’d seen me, obviously.”
Sirius gave James a gentle shove in the shoulder. “I’m not a poof,” he said, forcibly.
“Don’t care if you are,” James said, nonchalantly.
“I’m really not. I really like breasts. I really do. They’re... you know...” Sirius mimed the shape of a pair of great imaginary breasts in the air in front of his face, joint between the fingers of his right hand.
“Don’t drop it! Merlin, Pads. Alright, so, you lied. What’d you see?”
Sirius sighed. “Moony,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I just saw me and Moony.”
“And...?”
“And he ... well. He kissed me, Prongs. And I nearly fell over right on top of that horrible bust of Noddy.”
“You mean Nobbly,” James corrected him, sagely in his own escalating state of nonsensical wisdom.
“Yes, right, whatever.”
“Well. Okay. Let’s approach this logically.” Sirius burst out laughing at that; hearing James speak of logic was so rare and so ridiculous it seemed the only thing to do. James ignored him. “So, apparently your heart’s greatest desire is for Moony to kiss you.”
“That mirror’s bloody broken,” Sirius grumbled.
“I really doubt it,” James countered, poking Sirius in the stomach. “Alright, anyways. So obviously you’d quite like it if he kissed you. Am I correct?”
“I really try not to think about it.”
“Well think about it now, then. Would you like it? And don’t try and lie, I’ll know.”
Sirius, taking another long drag on his joint, thought about what it would be like to have Remus kiss him. He imagined Remus bending over him, cradling his face in one of his abnormally large and strong hands, smoothing his hair out of his eyes with the other; pressing his lips against his. He’d be gentle at first, Moony always was gentle, but then he’d lose control and it would be more insistent, the wolf would come through a little and there’d be nips and bites and an insistent tongue and... Sirius’ stomach exploded in butterflies and he bit his lip, and he had to grip on to the chimney to stay upright.
He could hear James laughing at him and blushed, opening his eyes with a start.
“Well, fuck,” he said, vehemently. “That’s new and really, really horrifying. Gods, I feel like my skin is on fire, did you put too much Billywig in this?”
“You are so, so hot for Moony!” James crowed, earning himself a punch.
“Fuck,” Sirius moaned. “Fuck fuck fuck. James, help! This is not meant to happen!”
“Smoke more, it’ll help.”
“I might fall off the roof.”
“I’d catch you, don’t worry.”
“James, what am I going to do?”
“Snog him? Seems the logical thing to do. Gods, that sounds funny though. Padfoot and Moony. Snogging. Heh. Hehehe.”
“Prongs! This is not an appropriate time to get the giggles!”
“You fancy Moony, you fancy Moony! You want to snog him and love him and sex him all over.”
“Ugh, gods, no, James, shut up. Stop!”
But James was gone, making up limericks and songs - and even a sonnet - for the next several minutes. By the time he was done, though, Sirius was able to at least laugh about it - though he strongly suspected that was the Gillyweed.
Or maybe the Billywigs.
They were on their fourth joint, and the roof had become a blurry constant in Sirius’ swirling mind.
“D’you know what I noticed, Prongsy? T’other day, at Quidditch?”
“That you’re an enormous poofter and wanted to get me alone in the showers?”
“No, you great bloody pillock. S’Moony. His hair. It’s all... you know, colors.” Sirius made insane shapes in the air, as if to illustrate the colors; James nodded, understandingly. “Colors, and he looked like autumn, like a great big pile of leaves. All crunch and brown and stuff.”
“You’re an enormous poofter.”
“Fuck.”
“Fucked,” James corrected, grinning. Sirius groaned and smooshed his face into James’ shoulder. “Oi, gerroff, you’ll knock us both off.”
“Prongs, help me.”
“I can’t help you not be in love with Moony.”
“Fuck. Sounds weird.”
“Is weird.”
“Fucker.”
“Nah, I think that’s Moony.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t, you love me because I have helped you come to a great and important realization in life. I am James Potter, superfriend!”
“Sit down, you can’t fly without a broom, knobhead.”
“Can too.”
“No, you can’t, that’s the willybigs talking.”
“Bet Remus has a willybig. You can find out.”
They dissolved into mindless sniggers for a long time, until Sirius suddenly sat up.
“Fuck, James, I’m in love with Moony.”
“I know. We’ve been through this.”
“But he doesn’t love me! Prongs!”
“He’s an idiot if he doesn’t. I love you.”
“Poofter.”
“Only for you, you sexy dog.”
“Yeah my dog is sexy.”
“Ugh, that’s awful, Pads.”
“Your face is awful.”
“Your mum’s face is awful.”
“Yeah, it is rather.”
There was rather a lot more giggling until Sirius once again sat up suddenly.
“You’ve got to help me get him.”
“Get who?”
“Remus, gods, haven’t you been listening?”
“Oh, right. Why don’t you just go snog him?”
“He’d punch me.”
“Probably. And that would hurt. Fists like great boulders, he’s got.”
“Bloody werewolf.”
“You love him, though.”
“Fuck. Don’t remind me.”
“Alright. Operation Get Moony to Fall Madly and Stupidly in Ridiculous Homosexual Poofy Love for Padfoot, commencing... now. Gods. We’ve run out of gillyweed.”
“I hate you.”
“What?! What did I do?”
“You smoked all my weed.”
“You smoked two whole joints to yourself, you great pillock!”
“I still hate you.”
“Padfoot, you’re in love with Moony.”
“I know. This is shit.”
“No, you numpty, it’s great! You’re in love with Moony and I’m in love with Lily! We could have a joint wedding!”
“With Peter as flower girl, d’ya think?”
When Remus found them, an hour or so later, they were still howling on top of each other with incoherent laughter and had managed by only some strange feat of innate magic not to fall off the roof.
“You two are a bloody mess,” Remus commented, taking a seat next to them and pulling his smoking kit out of his pocket. “How much did you smoke?”
“I had two,” Sirius said proudly. “And most of the other ones.”
“I put too much willybig in,” James sniffed, but Sirius caught his eye and they started laughing again uncontrollably. Remus sighed and lit up his own joint.
“Moony! You have more! Let me have a smoke.” Sirius sidled up to Remus, nudging him in the shoulder. Remus sighed and handed him the joint.
“One toke,” he said firmly.
“I love youuuu,” Sirius crooned.
At that, James gave a cry of laughter and promptly fell off the roof, and was rescued only by some very fast wandwork by Remus, who then levitated both of them back to the safety of their beds, muttering to himself. “I don’t get paid nearly enough.”
“Moony! Come play with us!”
Remus ignored them and climbed out the window again, in search of some blessed peace and quiet.