31 Days of Fanfic: Three
August 3, 2007
Again, I'm cutting this right down to the wire. Nevertheless, here is day three of thirty one, in which there is a History of Magic lesson and some spilled ink.
May 3, 1976:
"D'you think Binns was this boring while he was alive?" Sirius asks. At the front of the classroom, the umpty-umpth Goblin War unfolds in the professor's dusty tones, echoing through the room and lulling the unwary to sleep.
"Probably," James shrugs. He adores History of Magic. Gryffindor and Slytherin have it together this year, and the soporific effect of Binns means that everyone is just that little bit off their guard. Some of the year's best mayhem has originated in this classroom, including the Incident With McGonagall's Nightgown that James can't help thinking of in capital letters. That had been one of Sirius' more inspired ideas, though it had also proven that McGonagall was scarier than they'd ever imagined she could be. "If we could bottle Binns' voice and sell it as a sleeping potion, we'd make a mint."
"Who'd pay to be this bored?" Sirius demands. He's been twisting scraps of paper into vaguely human shapes for the past ten minutes or so; now he takes out his wand and makes a subtle pass over his desk, murmuring something that James doesn't quite catch.
The paper men come quietly to life, picking themselves up off the desktop with the crinkle of paper, and look around in apparent confusion. Then one of them shoves his neighbor, and within seconds Sirius' desk has become a battleground. Scraps of paper fly everywhere as the miniature combatants dismember one another. James is quite impressed to see that they actually bleed ink, great black gouts of it that go spurting across Sirius' desk and -- uh oh. James puts one hand protectively over his still-bruised eye as Lily Evans rounds furiously on the pair of them, wiping a spatter of ink from the back of her arm.
"What are you doing?" she hisses. Sirius blinks innocent grey eyes at her, despite the ink-and-paper evidence still tearing itself to pieces on his desk.
Most of the class is sneaking glances their way, except for Remus, who has refused to sit near either James or Sirius in History of Magic since the Niffler Affair of Second Year, and is hunched over his notes in a way that suggests that he's trying desperately to ignore them. Peter, who hasn't been allowed to sit near either James or Sirius in any class whatsoever since the Great Dungbomb War of '73, is craning his neck in a futile attempt to see what's going on.
"Well?" Lily demands.
"We're re-enacting the battle?" James says weakly, with a gesture at the still-lecturing Binns, then wishes he could kick himself. He's not sure which is worse -- the withering contempt in Lily's expression as she turns back around, or the choked noise to his left that means Sirius is trying not to laugh out loud.
"I'm hopeless," he mutters, and puts his head down on the desk. A snort of laughter escapes Sirius' iron control, and James lifts his head to glare at him.
"Go ahead, laugh it up. At least I'm not completely obtuse."
"What d'you mean?" Sirius demands. James ignores him loftily, and pretends to be absorbed in Binns' lecture for the rest of the class period, no matter how many paper attackers Sirius sends in his direction.
After class has ended, Sirius tackles him in the hallway and threatens dire revenge, but James manages to distract him by suggesting that they add Jobberknoll quills and Pixie toenails to whatever potion Slughorn is demonstrating after lunch. Sirius goes off, humming to himself, to raid the man's supply cabinet, while James stuffs his books back in his bag and catches up to Peter and Remus.
"What's gotten into him?" Peter asks, waving a hand after the now-vanished Sirius.
"I was messing with him," James shrugs. "Pretending I knew something he didn't know." Remus looks at him, and James adds defensively: "He got ink on Evans!"
"You still shouldn't do that to him," Remus says, the corners of his mouth twitching in an almost-smile. "You know how he gets."
"He's a bloody lunatic," James mutters. His hands and face are speckled with the inky blood of Sirius' paper assassins, and there isn't enough time for him to wash them before lunch starts. "He's off to steal potions supplies from Slughorn."
"You incited that, Prongs," Remus says mildly.
"Only to get him off of me! Look what he did!"
"You do look ridiculous." Peter tries and fails to hide a grin.
"Thanks awfully," James says, and wipes (he suspects futilely) at his face.
"You look like you've got big black freckles all up one side of your face," Peter continues helpfully. "Except where you just smeared it."
"There's no hope, I'm afraid," Remus tells James gravely. "You're going to have to bathe, Prongs. I realize that's a drastic measure for you to take --"
"Hey!" James objects, and takes advantage of Sirius' absence to give Remus the thumping he deserves. "I bathe daily."
"This year," says Peter. "And only because Evans said you smelled."
"Traitor," James accuses, and thumps him too, for good measure.
(Day One) (Day Two) (Day Four)
***
Author's Notes: Thanks awfully to everyone who's taken the time to leave feedback.
aohatsu, this one is for you, 'cause that drabble you wrote me kicks ass.
As always, I'd love to know what you think.
Again, I'm cutting this right down to the wire. Nevertheless, here is day three of thirty one, in which there is a History of Magic lesson and some spilled ink.
May 3, 1976:
"D'you think Binns was this boring while he was alive?" Sirius asks. At the front of the classroom, the umpty-umpth Goblin War unfolds in the professor's dusty tones, echoing through the room and lulling the unwary to sleep.
"Probably," James shrugs. He adores History of Magic. Gryffindor and Slytherin have it together this year, and the soporific effect of Binns means that everyone is just that little bit off their guard. Some of the year's best mayhem has originated in this classroom, including the Incident With McGonagall's Nightgown that James can't help thinking of in capital letters. That had been one of Sirius' more inspired ideas, though it had also proven that McGonagall was scarier than they'd ever imagined she could be. "If we could bottle Binns' voice and sell it as a sleeping potion, we'd make a mint."
"Who'd pay to be this bored?" Sirius demands. He's been twisting scraps of paper into vaguely human shapes for the past ten minutes or so; now he takes out his wand and makes a subtle pass over his desk, murmuring something that James doesn't quite catch.
The paper men come quietly to life, picking themselves up off the desktop with the crinkle of paper, and look around in apparent confusion. Then one of them shoves his neighbor, and within seconds Sirius' desk has become a battleground. Scraps of paper fly everywhere as the miniature combatants dismember one another. James is quite impressed to see that they actually bleed ink, great black gouts of it that go spurting across Sirius' desk and -- uh oh. James puts one hand protectively over his still-bruised eye as Lily Evans rounds furiously on the pair of them, wiping a spatter of ink from the back of her arm.
"What are you doing?" she hisses. Sirius blinks innocent grey eyes at her, despite the ink-and-paper evidence still tearing itself to pieces on his desk.
Most of the class is sneaking glances their way, except for Remus, who has refused to sit near either James or Sirius in History of Magic since the Niffler Affair of Second Year, and is hunched over his notes in a way that suggests that he's trying desperately to ignore them. Peter, who hasn't been allowed to sit near either James or Sirius in any class whatsoever since the Great Dungbomb War of '73, is craning his neck in a futile attempt to see what's going on.
"Well?" Lily demands.
"We're re-enacting the battle?" James says weakly, with a gesture at the still-lecturing Binns, then wishes he could kick himself. He's not sure which is worse -- the withering contempt in Lily's expression as she turns back around, or the choked noise to his left that means Sirius is trying not to laugh out loud.
"I'm hopeless," he mutters, and puts his head down on the desk. A snort of laughter escapes Sirius' iron control, and James lifts his head to glare at him.
"Go ahead, laugh it up. At least I'm not completely obtuse."
"What d'you mean?" Sirius demands. James ignores him loftily, and pretends to be absorbed in Binns' lecture for the rest of the class period, no matter how many paper attackers Sirius sends in his direction.
After class has ended, Sirius tackles him in the hallway and threatens dire revenge, but James manages to distract him by suggesting that they add Jobberknoll quills and Pixie toenails to whatever potion Slughorn is demonstrating after lunch. Sirius goes off, humming to himself, to raid the man's supply cabinet, while James stuffs his books back in his bag and catches up to Peter and Remus.
"What's gotten into him?" Peter asks, waving a hand after the now-vanished Sirius.
"I was messing with him," James shrugs. "Pretending I knew something he didn't know." Remus looks at him, and James adds defensively: "He got ink on Evans!"
"You still shouldn't do that to him," Remus says, the corners of his mouth twitching in an almost-smile. "You know how he gets."
"He's a bloody lunatic," James mutters. His hands and face are speckled with the inky blood of Sirius' paper assassins, and there isn't enough time for him to wash them before lunch starts. "He's off to steal potions supplies from Slughorn."
"You incited that, Prongs," Remus says mildly.
"Only to get him off of me! Look what he did!"
"You do look ridiculous." Peter tries and fails to hide a grin.
"Thanks awfully," James says, and wipes (he suspects futilely) at his face.
"You look like you've got big black freckles all up one side of your face," Peter continues helpfully. "Except where you just smeared it."
"There's no hope, I'm afraid," Remus tells James gravely. "You're going to have to bathe, Prongs. I realize that's a drastic measure for you to take --"
"Hey!" James objects, and takes advantage of Sirius' absence to give Remus the thumping he deserves. "I bathe daily."
"This year," says Peter. "And only because Evans said you smelled."
"Traitor," James accuses, and thumps him too, for good measure.
(Day One) (Day Two) (Day Four)
***
Author's Notes: Thanks awfully to everyone who's taken the time to leave feedback.
aohatsu, this one is for you, 'cause that drabble you wrote me kicks ass.
As always, I'd love to know what you think.