Title: Conkers
Rating: G
Summary: Lily teaches the Mauraders to play conkers.
Author's note: I started this back in September, before Scarves and Hats. It was meant to be the opening scene to a bigger Remus/Sirius story but I've 95% left fandom now and it's never going to be finished. So I polished up the end of the opening scene and here's a little snippet from the Mauraders' fifth year for you all.
It was James who found the first conkers. He burst into the common room with his hands cupped around ten of the glossy balls. He rushed over to where Peter and Sirius were squashed onto one of the sofas and shoved his hands under Sirius’s face. “Look!”
Sirius, who was taking up four-fifths of the sofa, glanced at them and shrugged. “What?”
James rolled his eyes. “Your problem, Black, is that you fail to recognise potential.”
“Potential for what?” Sirius asked, leaning back against the cushions. “Planting a forest in the common room?”
“We could do that,” Peter said, breathlessly. “Growing potion. Sirius, I can’t breathe. Get your feet out of my ribs.”
“I don’t care,” Sirius said. “I’m sleeping.”
“Move,” James said. “I want to sit down too. I was thinking of having them pelt themselves at Snivellus but we could plant them in the Slytherin common room.”
Remus, who was sitting opposite, trying to do his History of Magic essay, sighed and said, “James, trees in the foundations does not equal structural integrity for the rest of the castle.”
“See,” said Sirius, his eyes shut. “Listen to Moony. He’s cleverer than you.”
James dumped the conkers on his head.
In the resulting scuffle, Peter was shot out of the corner of the sofa. He sighed and picked himself up before pulling up a chair next to Remus. “History of Magic?” he asked glumly.
“Yes.”
“Boring. Swop for my Transfiguration notes.”
Remus hesitated. It wasn’t really right but Peter was best in their year at the theory side of things and he still hadn’t caught up after the last full moon. “Alright,” he said at last.
“Ta.”
The Battle of the Sofa seemed to be reaching its final stages. James and Sirius had claimed an end each and were eyeing each other warily. To ward off further violence, Remus said brightly, “So, been conkering, then?”
James stared at him. “Conquering what?”
“Conkering,” Remus repeated. “Collecting conkers.”
“There’s a name for it?” Sirius asked, plucking a conker from inside his robes.
Remus stared at them, with a sinking feeling. How was he meant to know Purebloods didn’t play conkers? He should just back away now, before this got out of hand. He wasn’t sure quite how it could get out of hand but this was James and Sirius, after all.
“Why would anyone collect them?” Peter asked, his nose twitching.
“Nose, Wormtail,” James said warningly and Peter slapped his hand over it.
Sirius was staring at Remus, his grin slowly widening. He spun the conker between his finger and thumb and waited.
Remus sighed. “It’s a Muggle game. I don’t know all the rules. You tie conkers onto a bit of string and bang them together until one breaks. Then you’ve won. There are other rules, though.” He did his best to put on his, And I don’t know them and I’m not getting involved-face.
James sat up suddenly and repeated, “Muggle game?”
“Now you’ve done it,” Peter said.
James ran his hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses before standing up and calling, “Evans?”
“Drop dead.”
Sirius slid lower in his seat. Remus bent over his essay. Peter, exposed, grabbed Remus’s textbook and hid behind it.
“Evans, Evans, Evans, my heart is bleeding. I wasn’t even going to ask you out. Although, now I think of it…”
“No!” hissed Sirius, Peter and Remus.
“…it still seems quite inappropriate. All I was going to do was ask you to teach us about conkers.”
There was a slight pause. Remus tried to peer through his fringe to see what was happening.
“Is that some sort of innuendo, Potter?”
“No!” James squeaked and snatched the conker out of Sirius’s hand. “Conkers! See.”
There was a click of heels and Lily Evans leant on the back of the sofa. Remus looked up and Peter lowered his book. Sirius waved feebly. James jumped backwards and gestured towards his seat.
Evans looked between them all, frowning a little. Then she asked, “Do you really not know how to play conkers?”
“Remus knows some of the rules,” James said.
Remus looked up at her and shrugged apologetically.
“What’s in it for me?”
“It will keep us out of trouble,” Peter said promptly.
“And you won’t need to take any points from them for a while,” Remus added, “which would be nice because I really don’t want to come last in the House Cup again.”
Sirius pretended to go back to sleep and James said, a little too loudly, “Conkers. Shiny, aren’t they?”
“Very,” Evans agreed.
“Like your hair,” James added and ooffed as Peter and Sirius kicked him.
“Think of it as verbal diorrhea,” Remus said to Evans. “He can’t help it.”
Sirius snickered.
Evans rolled her eyes and said, “Right. You need shoelaces and a skewer to start. And more than one conker.”
“Shoelaces!” Peter said, jumping up. “My Uncle Dorian gave me fifty for my birthday. All different colours.”
“Accio them!” Sirius said and dug his wand out. “Accio skewer!”
Evans yelled, “Duck!” and everyone in the common room dropped. This was Sirius Black’s fifth year in Gryffindor and the prefects had long ago taken on the task of warning new students about the danger levels around him.
There was a metallic twang and Remus sat up to see a skewer quivering where it had driven into the tabletop. It had scored a perfect bullseye on his History of Magic essay.
“Oops,” said Sirius. “I’ll rewrite it for you. Binns won’t notice.”
“I will,” Remus snapped. “And I can’t read your writing.”
“So what do we do with the skewer?” James asked hurriedly. “Besides drilling it through Sirius’s head.”
“Oy!”
“Conker!” Evans said imperiously. “Skewer. Shoelace.”
“I’ll get them,” Peter said and dashed off to the dorm.
“I need the table,” Evans said.
Remus sighed and rolled up his mistreated essay. He obviously wasn’t going to get any work done this afternoon. Evans crouched in front of the table and began to carefully drill through the heart of the conker. James and Sirius leant over to watch.
“You can soak them in vinegar to make them harder,” Evans said. “I knew people who put nail varnish on them but that’s cheating. Strengthening spells would be cheating, too. It’s the strength of the conker and the skill of the player that matters.”
“There’s skill involved?” James asked, hanging over her shoulder.
“Of course. I’m going to thrash you, Potter. You are looking at the undefeated Little Whinging Primary Under-Tens conker champion nineteen sixty-six to nineteen-seventy.”
“Make it a bet.”
“I don’t trust you, Potter. Stop breathing down my neck.”
James flopped back onto the sofa with a sigh as Peter came thumping back across the common room with a handful of shoelaces. Evans finally drilled the skewer right through the conker. She took a green shoelace from Peter’s hand and worked it through the hole, tying a bulky knot in the end to keep it in place.
“Next conker.”
Sirius produced another one from underneath him and she set to work. Twenty minutes later she had five conkers attached to shoelaces. She picked one up and handed it to James. “Wrap the lace round your hand and let the conker dangle. Then your opponent...”
She picked up one of the others, wrapped the lace around her fingers and brought her arm down. Her conker whistled as it whipped down and cracked against James’. James’ string swung up as his conker cracked, wrapping around his wrist and splattering him with white goo.
“And that,” Evans said smugly, “makes mine a two-er.”
“Erk,” James said, wiping conker juice off his glasses.
“I think I like this game,” Sirius said.
“Only because it’s inherently violent,” Remus said grumpily. It wouldn’t have been so bad if-
“Oy, Remus! Sirius and I need to copy that essay! Don’t get it all conkered.”
Remus and Peter shared a look and Remus sighed. Why couldn’t he have been sorted to Ravenclaw?
The only other unfinished pieces I have are a angsty Remus visits Azkaban piece and Sirius/Remus smut with jelly babies. Is anyone interested in either if I make the effort to finish them? (I hate leaving loose ends)