To Entertain These Fair, Well-Spoken Days (blanketforts Day 14)
Title: To Entertain These Fair, Well-Spoken Days
Rating: PG for language.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just borrowing them because I like them.
Wordcount: 1897
Prompt: "When you have once seen the glow of happiness on the face of a beloved person, you know that a man can have no vocation but to awaken that light on the faces surrounding him. In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer."
-Albert Camus
Notes: I go for a three day moon. In January 1979 that's the 11th to the 13th. I have so much love for this prompt. I feel like subtitling this story 'Why I write MWPP-era'. Because, yeah. The morning after the last night of the moon. My favourite so far. Title from Richard III
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“Right,” James said cheerfully. “That’s it for this month. Think the pub’s open yet?”
“It’s not eleven yet,” Remus pointed out, huddling into his coat. He always felt the cold more right after the moon.
Sirius snickered. “And you’re having lunch with Lily’s sister, remember?”
“Oh, fuck,” James muttered. “Evil bitch.”
“Can’t be worse than my relatives, mate. Every time she gets on your knob think of darling Bella.”
Peter snickered.
“Fuck off, Wormtail,” James and Sirius muttered, and then looked at each other and cackled.
Remus smiled and let them bicker. The sun was dazzlingly bright through the forest. They were obviously the first ones out, for the road into Hogsmeade was a sheet of white before them. The trees of the forbidden forest, evergreen and snow-heavy, crowded up the mountainside to their left. To their right, the snow had piled against the low wall between the road and the lake. The air smelt crisp and clean like it never did in London, though every breath stung his lungs.
“You off with the fairies, Moony?” Peter asked and sniggered again.
Sirius slung his arms around their shoulders, dragging them in. “He’d rather get off with a fairy, wouldn’t you, Moo-Moo-Moony?”
Remus, whose hat had slipped down over his eyes, yelped and struggled, slipping on the frozen snow. “Prongs! Help! We’ve been attacked by a prat who thinks he’s funny.”
“He is funny,” Peter said, sounding slightly muffled. “Funny-peculiar. Argh! Argh! Get off me, man!”
Sirius cackled and then shrieked, releasing Remus, who went staggering across the road into a snowdrift. He managed to shove his hat up in time to see Sirius dancing in the middle of the road, yelling, “Out! Out! Out! Out of the trousers!”
James was clinging to a tree on the other side of the road, doubled-up with laughter, and Peter was nowhere to be seen.
Sirius shook his leg wildly, waving his arms for balance and a small, black form shot out of the bottom of his robes. The rat tumbled across the road, and then it rose into Peter, clutching his ribs and wheezing with laughter.
“Not the trousers!” Sirius proclaimed, throwing his arms towards the sky. “Look! Look upon me! Do I look like a man who wants a rat in his trousers?”
Peter collapsed into laughter again. “We all know who you want in your trousers.”
Sirius roared, and Remus, who foresaw considerable violence, scooped up a handful of snow and took aim.
It was a poor excuse for a snowball but he was close enough that it didn’t matter.
Sirius stopped dead as it splattered across the back of his head. Then he turned, with slow menace, and began to stalk towards Remus.
“Bugger,” Remus said and took off at an angle.
James was still staggering in circles. He would provide perfect cover.
Sirius bent and gathered a scoop of snow, eyes gleaming.
Peter, in the middle of the road, rose to his knees, still cackling, and took aim. Unfortunately, he was overtaken by another fit of giggles as he threw. The snowball arched through the air…
…and hit James.
“Argh! What! Oy! Cold! What did I ever do to you, Wormtail! You foul and low traitor! I am innocent, I tell you! Innocent!”
“You?” Remus scoffed, shoving him towards Sirius as he flailed, glasses coated in snow. “Innocent? Of what?” He dived behind the tree as James plowed into Sirius, sending them both staggering. There he set to building up his ammunition. Peter, on the other side of the road, had slid down into the ditch and was at work on a similar task. James and Sirius was still tussling in the middle of the road.
Remus peered out from behind his tree and caught Peter’s eye. Peter grinned and held up three fingers.
Remus nodded.
On the count of three, they attacked.
Remus got six good shots in before Sirius came bounding at him and he ran for it. Peter had made the fatal mistake of waiting too long and now his face was being firmly scrubbed in the snowdrift. Remus legged it down the road towards Hogwarts, his scarf flapping behind him, the ache of the aftermath of the moon easing as he stretched out human limbs. Sirius gave noisy chase.
The snowball hit him in the back and he spun, diving backwards with a flourish and a hand pressed against his heart. James roared, “Bravo!” and then Sirius was on him.
“Think you can snowball me, do you, Mr Moony?” he panted in Remus’ ear.
“Know it,” Remus said, trying to wriggle out from under him. “I just did.”
Sirius grinned with such sheer, infectious joy that Remus stopped struggling for a moment.
Freezing cold snow was promptly shoved down the front of his trousers. Remus howled and Sirius collapsed on top of him, cackling. Then he was away and Remus went crashing after him, staggering open-legged in the hope he might regain some feeling in his balls.
Peter and James had both vanished. Remus hesitated, suspicious, and hissed, “Padfoot! Ware ambush!”
Sirius dropped to a crouch but it was too late. Peter and James were rising out of hiding and the air was full of snow. Remus, breathless with laughter, seized a snow-coated Sirius by his collar and dragged him to shelter. “Truce?”
Sirius grabbed his hand and shook it vehemently. “I knew I could trust in you. You are a comrade-in-arms, a friend in adversity, a fellow warrior-”
“Sirius, shut up and make snowballs,” Remus said. “And watch out for a sneak attack. You know Pete likes to go rat and creep up behind people.”
“One day,” Sirius said thoughtfully, “somebody will eat him. Then he’ll be sorry.”
“I think in those circumstances we’d all be sorry.”
“Rat heaven or people heaven?”
“What?”
“Where do animagi go when they die? Or does it depend what animal they are at the time?”
“Is that what passes for theology in the decayed matter of your brain?”
“Heh. What if I ate Peter when he was halfway through a transformation?”
“Your preoccupation with Peter’s demise gives reason for concern.”
“You’re in a good mood.”
“I am?” Remus hadn’t really considered his mood. He glanced at Sirius, who was sprawled out beside him, his hair and eyebrows caked with snow. Sirius grinned at him, joy to the ends of his fingers, and he couldn’t help grinning back.
“You’re talking like a textbook. Classic giveaway. Aha! Prongs-hair at two o’ clock. They’re going to charge!”
“Ready the artillery, Gunner Black,” Remus said in the poshest voice he could manage and rose to attack.
In the chaos of wet scarves and boy-limbs and facefuls of snow, he could forget the moon. He could forget the war and the lost children and Sirius’ complications. All there needed to be was his friends and the snow and the urgent, obvious need to strip James Potter and tie him to a tree with his own scarf.
“Now then, now then,” a new voice boomed over them. “Give it a rest. Some o’ us need to get past yeh.”
“Hagrid!” Peter squeaked.
Remus blinked up from where he was jammed into Sirius’ armpit. Hagrid was sitting above them, on the seat of a rickety trap. The pony, up to its hocks in snow, was huffing clouds of breath.
“Thought yeh lot had left,” Hagrid said.
“Bad pennies,” Remus said, even though his chin was buried in the snow. “Can’t keep them from turning up.”
“What are you, then?” Sirius protested.
“A blameless soul, led astray by my wicked friends.”
“Now yer here, could yeh clear out o’ the road? I’ve gotta get down ter Hogsthorpe Farm fer the milk. ‘Less you want a lift down ter Hogsmeade. Could fit four little ones, if Claw squeezes up.”
Remus wasn’t sure any of them would count as ‘little ones’ to anyone except Hagrid but James was already jumping up.
“I’m won’t say no. Need to be in Surrey for lunch.”
“Not staying at the Hog’s Head? Rosmerta does a good roast.”
“No such luck,” James said, aiming a kick at Peter who had started smirking at the word roast. “Lily’s sister. Worst cook this side of Moscow.”
“We could stay, though,” Sirius said cheerfully. “What do you think, lads?”
“Might as well,” Peter said, scrambling up beside Claw. “No rush to get back.”
“Remus?”
He probably ought to make an effort to get home to Bognor. He hadn’t seen his dad for a week. “Actually-”
“Great. Shove up, Prongs.”
They squashed onto the seat of the trap, on the other side of Hagrid from Peter. Sirius, almost squeezed off the end, sprawled across their laps, his head pillowed on Remus’ thigh. Hagrid clucked to the pony and they moved off again, creaking slowly down the lane.
“Got the runners on?” Peter asked.
“Aye. Haven’t seen a winter like this fer years.”
Sirius wound his hand into Remus’ sleeve for balance, smiling up at him. There was snow melting on his eyelashes.
“How’s the term going?” James asked, elbowing Remus.
“Quiet without the lot of yeh. Nice to have a bit of peace.”
“Nobody ever appreciated our genius,” Sirius said.
“Genius, was it? That’s what some might call it. What are yeh doing up here then?”
“Needed to get out of London,” Remus said lightly. “Filthy place.”
“There was a girl,” Sirius said. “A beautiful girl of impeccable talents who was, of course, madly in love with me. The scandal - the town is too hot to hold me.”
“Get on with yeh. And sit up, or yeh’ll go over the edge.”
Sirius sighed and shifted, sitting halfway into Remus’ lap. “No one ever believes a word I say.”
“And whose fault is that?” Peter asked, from the safety of the other side of Hagrid.
“See! Even Peter, my most beloved and trusted friend, doubts me. I am confounded.”
“You’re wrong in the head,” James said amiably.
Hagrid looked down at Remus. “Young Steven was talking about yeh.”
“Steven Yarwood? How is he?”
Hagrid shook his head. “As good as can be expected. Bad business, that. Poor little tyke.”
“Keep an eye on him, will you,” Remus said. He couldn’t quite shift the faint worry over Steven Yarwood being in the same school as Regulus Black.
“Teach yer grandmother, Remus. Claw here’s taken a liking ter him. Handy-like, that.”
“Good,” Remus said.
“Heard yeh and Black were the heroes.”
Remus shifted uncomfortably. “We just did our jobs.”
Hagrid seemed to consider him, his black eyes sharp. Then he said, “There’s plenty who don’t even do that. Here we are. Hog’s Head. Say hello ter Lily fer me, eh, James.”
“Will do,” James said, hopping down. “Thanks for the lift.”
Hagrid nodded. “Any time. Be careful now, all of yeh. Ey, now, Clover. Away.”
Remus lingered outside the pub, watching the trap draw away through the village. Hagrid was just Hagrid. There was nothing odd about him, never had been. All the same…
“Come on, Remus. It’s warm in here.”
He shook his head and followed Peter in. Sirius was already at the bar, flirting with Madam Rosmerta. Remus paused to stamp some of the snow off before he wandered over to join them. He knew how the afternoon would stretch out, with good food, warm drinks and the company of friends. What could be better?
Rating: PG for language.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just borrowing them because I like them.
Wordcount: 1897
Prompt: "When you have once seen the glow of happiness on the face of a beloved person, you know that a man can have no vocation but to awaken that light on the faces surrounding him. In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer."
-Albert Camus
Notes: I go for a three day moon. In January 1979 that's the 11th to the 13th. I have so much love for this prompt. I feel like subtitling this story 'Why I write MWPP-era'. Because, yeah. The morning after the last night of the moon. My favourite so far. Title from Richard III
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14
“Right,” James said cheerfully. “That’s it for this month. Think the pub’s open yet?”
“It’s not eleven yet,” Remus pointed out, huddling into his coat. He always felt the cold more right after the moon.
Sirius snickered. “And you’re having lunch with Lily’s sister, remember?”
“Oh, fuck,” James muttered. “Evil bitch.”
“Can’t be worse than my relatives, mate. Every time she gets on your knob think of darling Bella.”
Peter snickered.
“Fuck off, Wormtail,” James and Sirius muttered, and then looked at each other and cackled.
Remus smiled and let them bicker. The sun was dazzlingly bright through the forest. They were obviously the first ones out, for the road into Hogsmeade was a sheet of white before them. The trees of the forbidden forest, evergreen and snow-heavy, crowded up the mountainside to their left. To their right, the snow had piled against the low wall between the road and the lake. The air smelt crisp and clean like it never did in London, though every breath stung his lungs.
“You off with the fairies, Moony?” Peter asked and sniggered again.
Sirius slung his arms around their shoulders, dragging them in. “He’d rather get off with a fairy, wouldn’t you, Moo-Moo-Moony?”
Remus, whose hat had slipped down over his eyes, yelped and struggled, slipping on the frozen snow. “Prongs! Help! We’ve been attacked by a prat who thinks he’s funny.”
“He is funny,” Peter said, sounding slightly muffled. “Funny-peculiar. Argh! Argh! Get off me, man!”
Sirius cackled and then shrieked, releasing Remus, who went staggering across the road into a snowdrift. He managed to shove his hat up in time to see Sirius dancing in the middle of the road, yelling, “Out! Out! Out! Out of the trousers!”
James was clinging to a tree on the other side of the road, doubled-up with laughter, and Peter was nowhere to be seen.
Sirius shook his leg wildly, waving his arms for balance and a small, black form shot out of the bottom of his robes. The rat tumbled across the road, and then it rose into Peter, clutching his ribs and wheezing with laughter.
“Not the trousers!” Sirius proclaimed, throwing his arms towards the sky. “Look! Look upon me! Do I look like a man who wants a rat in his trousers?”
Peter collapsed into laughter again. “We all know who you want in your trousers.”
Sirius roared, and Remus, who foresaw considerable violence, scooped up a handful of snow and took aim.
It was a poor excuse for a snowball but he was close enough that it didn’t matter.
Sirius stopped dead as it splattered across the back of his head. Then he turned, with slow menace, and began to stalk towards Remus.
“Bugger,” Remus said and took off at an angle.
James was still staggering in circles. He would provide perfect cover.
Sirius bent and gathered a scoop of snow, eyes gleaming.
Peter, in the middle of the road, rose to his knees, still cackling, and took aim. Unfortunately, he was overtaken by another fit of giggles as he threw. The snowball arched through the air…
…and hit James.
“Argh! What! Oy! Cold! What did I ever do to you, Wormtail! You foul and low traitor! I am innocent, I tell you! Innocent!”
“You?” Remus scoffed, shoving him towards Sirius as he flailed, glasses coated in snow. “Innocent? Of what?” He dived behind the tree as James plowed into Sirius, sending them both staggering. There he set to building up his ammunition. Peter, on the other side of the road, had slid down into the ditch and was at work on a similar task. James and Sirius was still tussling in the middle of the road.
Remus peered out from behind his tree and caught Peter’s eye. Peter grinned and held up three fingers.
Remus nodded.
On the count of three, they attacked.
Remus got six good shots in before Sirius came bounding at him and he ran for it. Peter had made the fatal mistake of waiting too long and now his face was being firmly scrubbed in the snowdrift. Remus legged it down the road towards Hogwarts, his scarf flapping behind him, the ache of the aftermath of the moon easing as he stretched out human limbs. Sirius gave noisy chase.
The snowball hit him in the back and he spun, diving backwards with a flourish and a hand pressed against his heart. James roared, “Bravo!” and then Sirius was on him.
“Think you can snowball me, do you, Mr Moony?” he panted in Remus’ ear.
“Know it,” Remus said, trying to wriggle out from under him. “I just did.”
Sirius grinned with such sheer, infectious joy that Remus stopped struggling for a moment.
Freezing cold snow was promptly shoved down the front of his trousers. Remus howled and Sirius collapsed on top of him, cackling. Then he was away and Remus went crashing after him, staggering open-legged in the hope he might regain some feeling in his balls.
Peter and James had both vanished. Remus hesitated, suspicious, and hissed, “Padfoot! Ware ambush!”
Sirius dropped to a crouch but it was too late. Peter and James were rising out of hiding and the air was full of snow. Remus, breathless with laughter, seized a snow-coated Sirius by his collar and dragged him to shelter. “Truce?”
Sirius grabbed his hand and shook it vehemently. “I knew I could trust in you. You are a comrade-in-arms, a friend in adversity, a fellow warrior-”
“Sirius, shut up and make snowballs,” Remus said. “And watch out for a sneak attack. You know Pete likes to go rat and creep up behind people.”
“One day,” Sirius said thoughtfully, “somebody will eat him. Then he’ll be sorry.”
“I think in those circumstances we’d all be sorry.”
“Rat heaven or people heaven?”
“What?”
“Where do animagi go when they die? Or does it depend what animal they are at the time?”
“Is that what passes for theology in the decayed matter of your brain?”
“Heh. What if I ate Peter when he was halfway through a transformation?”
“Your preoccupation with Peter’s demise gives reason for concern.”
“You’re in a good mood.”
“I am?” Remus hadn’t really considered his mood. He glanced at Sirius, who was sprawled out beside him, his hair and eyebrows caked with snow. Sirius grinned at him, joy to the ends of his fingers, and he couldn’t help grinning back.
“You’re talking like a textbook. Classic giveaway. Aha! Prongs-hair at two o’ clock. They’re going to charge!”
“Ready the artillery, Gunner Black,” Remus said in the poshest voice he could manage and rose to attack.
In the chaos of wet scarves and boy-limbs and facefuls of snow, he could forget the moon. He could forget the war and the lost children and Sirius’ complications. All there needed to be was his friends and the snow and the urgent, obvious need to strip James Potter and tie him to a tree with his own scarf.
“Now then, now then,” a new voice boomed over them. “Give it a rest. Some o’ us need to get past yeh.”
“Hagrid!” Peter squeaked.
Remus blinked up from where he was jammed into Sirius’ armpit. Hagrid was sitting above them, on the seat of a rickety trap. The pony, up to its hocks in snow, was huffing clouds of breath.
“Thought yeh lot had left,” Hagrid said.
“Bad pennies,” Remus said, even though his chin was buried in the snow. “Can’t keep them from turning up.”
“What are you, then?” Sirius protested.
“A blameless soul, led astray by my wicked friends.”
“Now yer here, could yeh clear out o’ the road? I’ve gotta get down ter Hogsthorpe Farm fer the milk. ‘Less you want a lift down ter Hogsmeade. Could fit four little ones, if Claw squeezes up.”
Remus wasn’t sure any of them would count as ‘little ones’ to anyone except Hagrid but James was already jumping up.
“I’m won’t say no. Need to be in Surrey for lunch.”
“Not staying at the Hog’s Head? Rosmerta does a good roast.”
“No such luck,” James said, aiming a kick at Peter who had started smirking at the word roast. “Lily’s sister. Worst cook this side of Moscow.”
“We could stay, though,” Sirius said cheerfully. “What do you think, lads?”
“Might as well,” Peter said, scrambling up beside Claw. “No rush to get back.”
“Remus?”
He probably ought to make an effort to get home to Bognor. He hadn’t seen his dad for a week. “Actually-”
“Great. Shove up, Prongs.”
They squashed onto the seat of the trap, on the other side of Hagrid from Peter. Sirius, almost squeezed off the end, sprawled across their laps, his head pillowed on Remus’ thigh. Hagrid clucked to the pony and they moved off again, creaking slowly down the lane.
“Got the runners on?” Peter asked.
“Aye. Haven’t seen a winter like this fer years.”
Sirius wound his hand into Remus’ sleeve for balance, smiling up at him. There was snow melting on his eyelashes.
“How’s the term going?” James asked, elbowing Remus.
“Quiet without the lot of yeh. Nice to have a bit of peace.”
“Nobody ever appreciated our genius,” Sirius said.
“Genius, was it? That’s what some might call it. What are yeh doing up here then?”
“Needed to get out of London,” Remus said lightly. “Filthy place.”
“There was a girl,” Sirius said. “A beautiful girl of impeccable talents who was, of course, madly in love with me. The scandal - the town is too hot to hold me.”
“Get on with yeh. And sit up, or yeh’ll go over the edge.”
Sirius sighed and shifted, sitting halfway into Remus’ lap. “No one ever believes a word I say.”
“And whose fault is that?” Peter asked, from the safety of the other side of Hagrid.
“See! Even Peter, my most beloved and trusted friend, doubts me. I am confounded.”
“You’re wrong in the head,” James said amiably.
Hagrid looked down at Remus. “Young Steven was talking about yeh.”
“Steven Yarwood? How is he?”
Hagrid shook his head. “As good as can be expected. Bad business, that. Poor little tyke.”
“Keep an eye on him, will you,” Remus said. He couldn’t quite shift the faint worry over Steven Yarwood being in the same school as Regulus Black.
“Teach yer grandmother, Remus. Claw here’s taken a liking ter him. Handy-like, that.”
“Good,” Remus said.
“Heard yeh and Black were the heroes.”
Remus shifted uncomfortably. “We just did our jobs.”
Hagrid seemed to consider him, his black eyes sharp. Then he said, “There’s plenty who don’t even do that. Here we are. Hog’s Head. Say hello ter Lily fer me, eh, James.”
“Will do,” James said, hopping down. “Thanks for the lift.”
Hagrid nodded. “Any time. Be careful now, all of yeh. Ey, now, Clover. Away.”
Remus lingered outside the pub, watching the trap draw away through the village. Hagrid was just Hagrid. There was nothing odd about him, never had been. All the same…
“Come on, Remus. It’s warm in here.”
He shook his head and followed Peter in. Sirius was already at the bar, flirting with Madam Rosmerta. Remus paused to stamp some of the snow off before he wandered over to join them. He knew how the afternoon would stretch out, with good food, warm drinks and the company of friends. What could be better?