okay, this one's short -- exactly 150 words -- but here it is. also? i need to stop watching comedy until it stops hurting when i laugh. damn you, psych!
May 16, 1976:
"What's wrong with him?" Peter asks, glancing over at the chair that Sirius has occupied, scowling, since he came back into the Common Room a few minutes after midnight.
"i dunno," James says. The shrug is implied. "I tried to ask him about it earlier and he actually growled at me. Let sleeping dogs lie, Pete."
"Ha bloody ha," Peter says, rolling his eyes. "Very funny. That pun is going right next to 'serious' on the banned list, mate."
"Why does no-one think that I'm funny?" James complains to the room at large.
"Oh, you're very funny," Peter assures him. "Really. You've no idea how many times I've heard people say that there's something funny about you."
"Prat," James accuses.
"Probably so," Peter says amiably. "Are you done with your essay, then?"
"Yeah, I finished it ages ago. Sorry," James says, and duly hands the parchment over to be copied.
(
day fifteen)*(
day seventeen)
Author's Notes: Ta-da! I'm back! Longer fic tomorrow, I promise.