Turning Point Ch 2
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Lily/James
Length: 2,854 words (chaptered)
Summary: Their beginning is less romance and more...clandestine. "It started a month ago with, as you may have guessed, an argument... She shuddered like I was her fix, and how twisted is it that that made my heart burst with happiness?" Smut!
So after a long and sleepless night filled alternately with painful regret and shameful excitement (both of which left me, pathetically, almost teary), I was staring up at the ceiling, the edges of my vision swallowed by the red of my four poster’s hangings.
I finally knew what it was like to touch Lily. I knew way more than I had ever thought to even wonder about (she didn’t have any freckles on her thighs; why hadn’t I ever thought about that?), and I couldn’t revel in it like I wanted to, like I should be able to, after six buggering years of chasing her. But I couldn’t stop it replaying. Couldn’t stop the flush in my cheeks as flashes came back to me, my hand skimming her thigh, her eyes fluttering shut. Her hands pulling on her skirt. Then revulsion would fill me, that I could feel like…like that, when Lily hated me. When I’d fucked her on a desk in an empty classroom like some slag and now she probably hated herself (and me, but that’s a given)… and the way she’d looked. Shit. The way she’d looked. As if she’d absolutely die if she’d had to spend one single more second in my company. As if I was every horrible thing she’d always said I was that I had never really believed. Until now.
Light ripped into my eyeballs when roughly thirteen stone of idiot yanked back my hangings and leaned over me like a homicidal maniac.
“Morning, slut!” he had barked, laughing until I kangaroo-kicked him in the chest and he fell back onto his bed, cracking one edge of the frame and rubbing his ribs.
“Merlin’s balls, Prongs. Don’t have to be such a pussy about the whole thing.” Sirius grabbed his wand off his bedside table and repaired the cracked bed frame-it was hardly the first time we had broken it…no, not like that! Definitely not like that. The Marauders are one hundred percent man. Men, I mean. There are multiple of us. Plural. Not plural like orgy. That would never happen. Well, sometimes Remus and Sirius look a little…I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT, ALRIGHT?!-before casting a little Stinging Hex at me.
I had cursed and was about to retaliate when Moony woke up and sleepily cast a repelling spell on both of us, shoving the both of us back to our beds-it was hardly the first time we had needed it…
Now that I think about it, we need an awful lot of magical intervention in our lives. Maybe we should start exercising more self-control. Or start doing everything the Muggle way, like that one horrible detention fifth year, where we weren’t allowed to do magic for two weeks-and by “allowed”, I mean “able”; McGonagall got Flitwick to cast some wicked charm on us where we couldn’t do any magic because she knew, of course, that stern words would not prevent us from getting up to some magical mischief-and everything was so hard that we actually learned a lesson. Until summer holiday came along and we promptly forgot said lesson, that is. Maybe if we tried hoofing it again, we’d have fewer of these little situations. And then, probably the charm would have stopped accidental magic, as well, and then Lily wouldn’t have lost her panties, in which case I might not have been in this horrible mess at all. I would have slid my hand up, encountered knickers, and thought, “Oh my word! Lily’s knickers! What on Earth am I doing touching Lily’s knickers? We had better stop; this is highly inappropriate, and will likely lead to further disaster in the Evans area”, thus ending the unfortunate situation, with Lily thinking me a gentleman and slowly beginning to love me. And me having blue balls.
But blue balls are a small price to pay for happily ever after with the girl of your dreams. Which would entail unlimited sex with the girl of your dreams. Way better than a one-night stand with the girl of your dreams, after which said girl appears to hate you more than she did beforehand.
One-night stand. Buggering bloody Merlin. I had had a one-night stand with Evans. Of all the things NOT to do to convince her I’m a decent human being and not at all an arrogant toe-rag who’s only interested in her for a quick shag and the chase and all that rot…I’m pretty sure a one-night stand was the least okay thing to do. Probably it was slightly more acceptable than kidnap and assault.
Anyway, back to the story already so I can get you caught up and whine to you about my current situation, instead of whining like a bleeding bird.
Much like the virginity-losing-fiasco-that-was-also-kind-of-amazing-if-I-didn’t-think-about-the-after-part, I’m not really sure how the next part happened. It went something like this:
I run down the hall after a painful Charms lesson two days after the aforementioned fiasco, chasing a fleeing Lily.
Me: Lily! Stop fleeing!
Lily: I’m not fleeing; I’m exiting your presence at a controlled pace, because I have no reason to flee from you because nothing happened between us that would anger and/or humiliate me.
Me: Just let me explain how I feel wonderful, marvelous things about you, and I’m sorry about what happened-you deserve more than that and I wish more than anything it hadn’t happened that way, but you should know that I love you, and I’ll do anything to make it up to you, if you’ll just give me a chance.
Lily: I hate you and you’re a big meanie-face!
Me: Lily, be reasonable!
Lily: (screaming like a baboon-banshee hybrid) I hope it didn’t take you too long to master that little panty-evaporating trick, Potter. After I’m done with you, you’ll never have the need for it.
Me: (I’m pretty sure I just whimpered)
Lily: I can’t stand the sight of your face, it makes me want to-
Screw me to the wall, apparently. Because in mid-sentence during that conversation (which happened exactly the way I’ve transcribed it, verbatim, I swear!), Lily decides it’d be a good idea to start snogging me. Which led to sex. Which led to the exact same look-you know, the one that said she had defiled herself by letting me merely touch her, much less ram my c-well, you get the picture. No need to get into the nitty gritty again.
At least one thing improved. The other Marauders never found out about the other times.
That’s right. I said “times”. Plural.
You see, apparently the one shred of common sense that I had (that shred being not to let my dumbass friends know something that would absolutely humiliate Lily, thereby proving to her that she could in no way trust me) was also probably my downfall. Remus probably could have talked some sense into me. Shown me that we had to quit. That it was only hurting us both.
But I didn’t tell. Not just for Lily. For me. I knew what Remus would say, and I knew it was true. But I didn’t want to hear it; I thought I could handle it myself, fix it. At least, that’s what I thought at first. Eventually, after a few weeks, after a dozen rendezvous, and after more confusion than I can even begin to describe, I stopped trying to handle it, I suppose.
It was an addiction, and I knew it was wrong. At least, I knew that the way we were doing it was wrong
But this was Lily Evans, and, at the time, an addiction to being with her seemed better than an addiction to following her around like a lost puppy, hopeless. Looking back… I’m not so sure. I’m not very sure about anything anymore.
Blast it buggering all! I keep trying to just tell you the story so that you’ll know exactly the pickle that I’m currently in, but I keep jumping ahead and getting caught up in my own pathetic thoughts.
Pity, party for one, please.
I’m not sure how many times it was. It seems like countless, but only a few months passed. It can’t have been that many between the start of term and Christmas hols. I mean, with my stamina and incredibly short recharge time, it could have been infinite times, but I had to work in classes and Quidditch somewhere, alright?
The second time, after that aforementioned accurately relayed conversation, was up against a wall. A little less magical, a little less tender feeling, but no less amazing. I think I blacked out a little at the end. Or maybe it was red, from all that hair my face was buried in. But then, I sighed out happily and her legs, which had been locked around my waist, slid down to the floor and she scooted away from me.
The Lily I knew would have pushed me away, slapped me, when she wanted me out of her personal space. This Lily would do anything not to touch me, except when, for God knows what reason, she decided to jump my bones.
And now that I thought about it, I was sort of mad. She had jumped my bones. Why does she get to look all hurt and angry? I mean, I’m a bloke! A bloke who famously fancies her! How much self-control am I supposed to have?
Then I was just plain steamed. Oh, she was going to shag me and bag me? (Alright, I made that phrase up, but “love ‘em and leave ‘em” seemed a little too euphemistic for the situation.) She was going to dangle herself in front of me and then crush all my hopes?
Well, fine. That witch was going to pay. Hard. Really hard. Just like certain parts of me were, thinking about Lily. Fuck. I was pathetic.
I had stomped my way up to Gryffindor Tower, trying really hard to stay mad, to grab the map and find where she had stormed off to. I waved off the other Marauders’ shouts of greeting and ran up the boys’ stairs. I slammed the door shut behind me, really trying to work myself into a state so I could properly yell at Evans.
Who in Merlin’s name did she think she was? Just sauntering around like nothing had happened, yelling at me one minute, screwing my brains out the next. The nerve of her, having her red hair that sways when she walks and bounces when she puts in ponytails, and sticks to her temple when she’s in the throes of an orga-shit.
All the fight went out of me and I flopped facedown on my bed. I caught a whiff of her scent on my clothed and screwed my eyes shut as hard as I could, as if that could have stopped the aroma from invading my nostrils, or her image from conjuring in my mind.
Depression sounded a lot easier than anger right then.
What can I say? People around the castle knew me as a lazy genius, and I guess they were right about the first part, at least.
I skipped my classes the next day, and told Sirius to tell McGonagall that I had a nasty case of vampirism. I got a detention, but Sirius says the fake bite mark he charmed on Marlene’s neck got a good laugh from the class, so it was a win in my book.
This gave me an extra eight hours, giver or take, to avoid Lily, at which point I had Quidditch practice, after which I would let all the other team members tromp through the portrait hole before me, so she would have time to skedaddle on up to her dorm if she happened to be in the common room. Perfect. Fool proof. Right?
Wrong.
Somebody didn’t have the common sense to avoid someone they had just accidentally slept with for the second time. Somebody didn’t have the decency to help a bloke avoid a girl when it was obvious that said bloke was trying to avoid said girl. Somebody looked ravishing in her lounge shorts and tank top.
Somebody had me whipped, and she didn’t even know it.
I was freshly showered, but already getting sore from a grueling practice that still hadn’t been able to take my mind off Lily. Sirius’ complaining had provided an outlet for me, however, as I decided to help him practice his Beating skills by beaming Quaffles at his head. My hair had still been a little damp when I trudged through the portrait hole after the rest of the team, but the chill from the Scottish October air vanished when our eyes met across the room.
An embarrassing red stain creeped from my ears to nose and maybe even up to my hairline and down to my collar. She looked away, but it was too late for me. My toe caught on the edge of a rug and down I went to become better acquainted with the ground. The house elves really do a nice job keeping the castle clean. I can personally attest to the nasty, horrible things teenagers did to the common room. Shooting off fireworks, spilling Firewhiskey, playing Exploding Snap, opening fake holiday crackers that exploded fake bogeys… Well, I guess the Marauders and I might be responsible for the slight majority of the messes in the common room, but hey-it just gave cushy Hogwarts jobs to more house elves, right?
I thought about trying to turn it into a somersault, but too much time had passed, and I was pretty sure my spine would snap in half if I tried. It was a rough practice. So, I just hopped up and took a bow to entertain my giggling audience, before making my way at a brisk walk to the boys’ staircase.
Damn Lily and her bleeding damn…sitting. Just sitting there! Like sitting there was just…okay! It was not okay. Most certainly was it not okay. Okay?
“Prongs? Sirius has been for a total of sixty seconds and has already managed to curse your name approximately one million times. Did you finally start dipping disruptive team members in lava?”
Sirius grumbled from his bed, where he was curled into a fetal position.
“I just made them run some laps.”
“And fly some laps. And run some laps holding Bludgers. And fly some laps tossing Bludgers in the air. And do every drill known to wizardkind. And run some laps. And throw bloody Quaffles at my head.” Sirius’ head was buried in a pillow, but pillowspeak is a language well known to adolescents, so Remus laughed and James said, “It’s not my fault you’ve gone soft. No wonder you’re not scoring so much lately. That six pack has turned a little mushy.”
Sirius’ head slowly lifted off the pillow and rotated to fix James with a vicious glare. “Are you sure you wanna go there, mate?”
“Go where?” I asked, trying my innocent face out.
“Oh, you know where. To the Throwdown.” The Throwdown was a roughly tri-monthly competition of looks, skill, and general magnificence between me and Sirius. There was never an official winner, as the only judges ever present were Remus, who refused to participate, and Peter, who always looked ready to pee his pants out of anxiety at having to choose between his two favorite people, but that didn’t stop us from having their pissing contests. Besides, it went unsaid that I was always the unofficial winner.
“I’d love to go, but I don’t think you’ll be able to make it on account of your ab seems a little tired.” Sirius’ eyes narrowed and he rolled over so he could glare properly.
“Well, I’d think you’d already gone and come back by broom, judging by your ridiculous hair. Oh, don’t try to fix it,” he said when James’ hand flew to his hair, “you might make my ab hurt from laughing.”
“I think you mean barking. I mean, I knew I was always the better at Transfiguration, but I’d think you could at least fully transform. Guess a few things are being left behind-vocal cords, soft belly, fleas…”
“Huh. Well, Prongs, I wish I could say the same for you, but I don’t think your antler’s going to be seeing the light of day after the last Evans disaster.” Sirius was smirking, and if it had been anyone else, I would have punched him in the face, or shot a hex at them, but Sirius was Sirius and I settled for a punch to his gut.
“Oof.”
“Really, man. Gotta work on those abs.” I was the one smirking then. Sirius seemed to debate returning the favor, but decided to steal some of the candy from my stash instead.
“Hogsmeade this weekend?” I looked at my stash. Dangerously low.
“Definitely.”
Maybe I could get some Firewhiskey and drown my sorrows. Maybe then I could work up the courage-anger? Moxie? Recklessness-to give her a piece of my mind.
Probably you can guess that that’s not exactly how the weekend went…
Pairing: Lily/James
Length: 2,854 words (chaptered)
Summary: Their beginning is less romance and more...clandestine. "It started a month ago with, as you may have guessed, an argument... She shuddered like I was her fix, and how twisted is it that that made my heart burst with happiness?" Smut!
So after a long and sleepless night filled alternately with painful regret and shameful excitement (both of which left me, pathetically, almost teary), I was staring up at the ceiling, the edges of my vision swallowed by the red of my four poster’s hangings.
I finally knew what it was like to touch Lily. I knew way more than I had ever thought to even wonder about (she didn’t have any freckles on her thighs; why hadn’t I ever thought about that?), and I couldn’t revel in it like I wanted to, like I should be able to, after six buggering years of chasing her. But I couldn’t stop it replaying. Couldn’t stop the flush in my cheeks as flashes came back to me, my hand skimming her thigh, her eyes fluttering shut. Her hands pulling on her skirt. Then revulsion would fill me, that I could feel like…like that, when Lily hated me. When I’d fucked her on a desk in an empty classroom like some slag and now she probably hated herself (and me, but that’s a given)… and the way she’d looked. Shit. The way she’d looked. As if she’d absolutely die if she’d had to spend one single more second in my company. As if I was every horrible thing she’d always said I was that I had never really believed. Until now.
Light ripped into my eyeballs when roughly thirteen stone of idiot yanked back my hangings and leaned over me like a homicidal maniac.
“Morning, slut!” he had barked, laughing until I kangaroo-kicked him in the chest and he fell back onto his bed, cracking one edge of the frame and rubbing his ribs.
“Merlin’s balls, Prongs. Don’t have to be such a pussy about the whole thing.” Sirius grabbed his wand off his bedside table and repaired the cracked bed frame-it was hardly the first time we had broken it…no, not like that! Definitely not like that. The Marauders are one hundred percent man. Men, I mean. There are multiple of us. Plural. Not plural like orgy. That would never happen. Well, sometimes Remus and Sirius look a little…I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT, ALRIGHT?!-before casting a little Stinging Hex at me.
I had cursed and was about to retaliate when Moony woke up and sleepily cast a repelling spell on both of us, shoving the both of us back to our beds-it was hardly the first time we had needed it…
Now that I think about it, we need an awful lot of magical intervention in our lives. Maybe we should start exercising more self-control. Or start doing everything the Muggle way, like that one horrible detention fifth year, where we weren’t allowed to do magic for two weeks-and by “allowed”, I mean “able”; McGonagall got Flitwick to cast some wicked charm on us where we couldn’t do any magic because she knew, of course, that stern words would not prevent us from getting up to some magical mischief-and everything was so hard that we actually learned a lesson. Until summer holiday came along and we promptly forgot said lesson, that is. Maybe if we tried hoofing it again, we’d have fewer of these little situations. And then, probably the charm would have stopped accidental magic, as well, and then Lily wouldn’t have lost her panties, in which case I might not have been in this horrible mess at all. I would have slid my hand up, encountered knickers, and thought, “Oh my word! Lily’s knickers! What on Earth am I doing touching Lily’s knickers? We had better stop; this is highly inappropriate, and will likely lead to further disaster in the Evans area”, thus ending the unfortunate situation, with Lily thinking me a gentleman and slowly beginning to love me. And me having blue balls.
But blue balls are a small price to pay for happily ever after with the girl of your dreams. Which would entail unlimited sex with the girl of your dreams. Way better than a one-night stand with the girl of your dreams, after which said girl appears to hate you more than she did beforehand.
One-night stand. Buggering bloody Merlin. I had had a one-night stand with Evans. Of all the things NOT to do to convince her I’m a decent human being and not at all an arrogant toe-rag who’s only interested in her for a quick shag and the chase and all that rot…I’m pretty sure a one-night stand was the least okay thing to do. Probably it was slightly more acceptable than kidnap and assault.
Anyway, back to the story already so I can get you caught up and whine to you about my current situation, instead of whining like a bleeding bird.
Much like the virginity-losing-fiasco-that-was-also-kind-of-amazing-if-I-didn’t-think-about-the-after-part, I’m not really sure how the next part happened. It went something like this:
I run down the hall after a painful Charms lesson two days after the aforementioned fiasco, chasing a fleeing Lily.
Me: Lily! Stop fleeing!
Lily: I’m not fleeing; I’m exiting your presence at a controlled pace, because I have no reason to flee from you because nothing happened between us that would anger and/or humiliate me.
Me: Just let me explain how I feel wonderful, marvelous things about you, and I’m sorry about what happened-you deserve more than that and I wish more than anything it hadn’t happened that way, but you should know that I love you, and I’ll do anything to make it up to you, if you’ll just give me a chance.
Lily: I hate you and you’re a big meanie-face!
Me: Lily, be reasonable!
Lily: (screaming like a baboon-banshee hybrid) I hope it didn’t take you too long to master that little panty-evaporating trick, Potter. After I’m done with you, you’ll never have the need for it.
Me: (I’m pretty sure I just whimpered)
Lily: I can’t stand the sight of your face, it makes me want to-
Screw me to the wall, apparently. Because in mid-sentence during that conversation (which happened exactly the way I’ve transcribed it, verbatim, I swear!), Lily decides it’d be a good idea to start snogging me. Which led to sex. Which led to the exact same look-you know, the one that said she had defiled herself by letting me merely touch her, much less ram my c-well, you get the picture. No need to get into the nitty gritty again.
At least one thing improved. The other Marauders never found out about the other times.
That’s right. I said “times”. Plural.
You see, apparently the one shred of common sense that I had (that shred being not to let my dumbass friends know something that would absolutely humiliate Lily, thereby proving to her that she could in no way trust me) was also probably my downfall. Remus probably could have talked some sense into me. Shown me that we had to quit. That it was only hurting us both.
But I didn’t tell. Not just for Lily. For me. I knew what Remus would say, and I knew it was true. But I didn’t want to hear it; I thought I could handle it myself, fix it. At least, that’s what I thought at first. Eventually, after a few weeks, after a dozen rendezvous, and after more confusion than I can even begin to describe, I stopped trying to handle it, I suppose.
It was an addiction, and I knew it was wrong. At least, I knew that the way we were doing it was wrong
But this was Lily Evans, and, at the time, an addiction to being with her seemed better than an addiction to following her around like a lost puppy, hopeless. Looking back… I’m not so sure. I’m not very sure about anything anymore.
Blast it buggering all! I keep trying to just tell you the story so that you’ll know exactly the pickle that I’m currently in, but I keep jumping ahead and getting caught up in my own pathetic thoughts.
Pity, party for one, please.
I’m not sure how many times it was. It seems like countless, but only a few months passed. It can’t have been that many between the start of term and Christmas hols. I mean, with my stamina and incredibly short recharge time, it could have been infinite times, but I had to work in classes and Quidditch somewhere, alright?
The second time, after that aforementioned accurately relayed conversation, was up against a wall. A little less magical, a little less tender feeling, but no less amazing. I think I blacked out a little at the end. Or maybe it was red, from all that hair my face was buried in. But then, I sighed out happily and her legs, which had been locked around my waist, slid down to the floor and she scooted away from me.
The Lily I knew would have pushed me away, slapped me, when she wanted me out of her personal space. This Lily would do anything not to touch me, except when, for God knows what reason, she decided to jump my bones.
And now that I thought about it, I was sort of mad. She had jumped my bones. Why does she get to look all hurt and angry? I mean, I’m a bloke! A bloke who famously fancies her! How much self-control am I supposed to have?
Then I was just plain steamed. Oh, she was going to shag me and bag me? (Alright, I made that phrase up, but “love ‘em and leave ‘em” seemed a little too euphemistic for the situation.) She was going to dangle herself in front of me and then crush all my hopes?
Well, fine. That witch was going to pay. Hard. Really hard. Just like certain parts of me were, thinking about Lily. Fuck. I was pathetic.
I had stomped my way up to Gryffindor Tower, trying really hard to stay mad, to grab the map and find where she had stormed off to. I waved off the other Marauders’ shouts of greeting and ran up the boys’ stairs. I slammed the door shut behind me, really trying to work myself into a state so I could properly yell at Evans.
Who in Merlin’s name did she think she was? Just sauntering around like nothing had happened, yelling at me one minute, screwing my brains out the next. The nerve of her, having her red hair that sways when she walks and bounces when she puts in ponytails, and sticks to her temple when she’s in the throes of an orga-shit.
All the fight went out of me and I flopped facedown on my bed. I caught a whiff of her scent on my clothed and screwed my eyes shut as hard as I could, as if that could have stopped the aroma from invading my nostrils, or her image from conjuring in my mind.
Depression sounded a lot easier than anger right then.
What can I say? People around the castle knew me as a lazy genius, and I guess they were right about the first part, at least.
I skipped my classes the next day, and told Sirius to tell McGonagall that I had a nasty case of vampirism. I got a detention, but Sirius says the fake bite mark he charmed on Marlene’s neck got a good laugh from the class, so it was a win in my book.
This gave me an extra eight hours, giver or take, to avoid Lily, at which point I had Quidditch practice, after which I would let all the other team members tromp through the portrait hole before me, so she would have time to skedaddle on up to her dorm if she happened to be in the common room. Perfect. Fool proof. Right?
Wrong.
Somebody didn’t have the common sense to avoid someone they had just accidentally slept with for the second time. Somebody didn’t have the decency to help a bloke avoid a girl when it was obvious that said bloke was trying to avoid said girl. Somebody looked ravishing in her lounge shorts and tank top.
Somebody had me whipped, and she didn’t even know it.
I was freshly showered, but already getting sore from a grueling practice that still hadn’t been able to take my mind off Lily. Sirius’ complaining had provided an outlet for me, however, as I decided to help him practice his Beating skills by beaming Quaffles at his head. My hair had still been a little damp when I trudged through the portrait hole after the rest of the team, but the chill from the Scottish October air vanished when our eyes met across the room.
An embarrassing red stain creeped from my ears to nose and maybe even up to my hairline and down to my collar. She looked away, but it was too late for me. My toe caught on the edge of a rug and down I went to become better acquainted with the ground. The house elves really do a nice job keeping the castle clean. I can personally attest to the nasty, horrible things teenagers did to the common room. Shooting off fireworks, spilling Firewhiskey, playing Exploding Snap, opening fake holiday crackers that exploded fake bogeys… Well, I guess the Marauders and I might be responsible for the slight majority of the messes in the common room, but hey-it just gave cushy Hogwarts jobs to more house elves, right?
I thought about trying to turn it into a somersault, but too much time had passed, and I was pretty sure my spine would snap in half if I tried. It was a rough practice. So, I just hopped up and took a bow to entertain my giggling audience, before making my way at a brisk walk to the boys’ staircase.
Damn Lily and her bleeding damn…sitting. Just sitting there! Like sitting there was just…okay! It was not okay. Most certainly was it not okay. Okay?
“Prongs? Sirius has been for a total of sixty seconds and has already managed to curse your name approximately one million times. Did you finally start dipping disruptive team members in lava?”
Sirius grumbled from his bed, where he was curled into a fetal position.
“I just made them run some laps.”
“And fly some laps. And run some laps holding Bludgers. And fly some laps tossing Bludgers in the air. And do every drill known to wizardkind. And run some laps. And throw bloody Quaffles at my head.” Sirius’ head was buried in a pillow, but pillowspeak is a language well known to adolescents, so Remus laughed and James said, “It’s not my fault you’ve gone soft. No wonder you’re not scoring so much lately. That six pack has turned a little mushy.”
Sirius’ head slowly lifted off the pillow and rotated to fix James with a vicious glare. “Are you sure you wanna go there, mate?”
“Go where?” I asked, trying my innocent face out.
“Oh, you know where. To the Throwdown.” The Throwdown was a roughly tri-monthly competition of looks, skill, and general magnificence between me and Sirius. There was never an official winner, as the only judges ever present were Remus, who refused to participate, and Peter, who always looked ready to pee his pants out of anxiety at having to choose between his two favorite people, but that didn’t stop us from having their pissing contests. Besides, it went unsaid that I was always the unofficial winner.
“I’d love to go, but I don’t think you’ll be able to make it on account of your ab seems a little tired.” Sirius’ eyes narrowed and he rolled over so he could glare properly.
“Well, I’d think you’d already gone and come back by broom, judging by your ridiculous hair. Oh, don’t try to fix it,” he said when James’ hand flew to his hair, “you might make my ab hurt from laughing.”
“I think you mean barking. I mean, I knew I was always the better at Transfiguration, but I’d think you could at least fully transform. Guess a few things are being left behind-vocal cords, soft belly, fleas…”
“Huh. Well, Prongs, I wish I could say the same for you, but I don’t think your antler’s going to be seeing the light of day after the last Evans disaster.” Sirius was smirking, and if it had been anyone else, I would have punched him in the face, or shot a hex at them, but Sirius was Sirius and I settled for a punch to his gut.
“Oof.”
“Really, man. Gotta work on those abs.” I was the one smirking then. Sirius seemed to debate returning the favor, but decided to steal some of the candy from my stash instead.
“Hogsmeade this weekend?” I looked at my stash. Dangerously low.
“Definitely.”
Maybe I could get some Firewhiskey and drown my sorrows. Maybe then I could work up the courage-anger? Moxie? Recklessness-to give her a piece of my mind.
Probably you can guess that that’s not exactly how the weekend went…