note flicked at the back of James' head during HistoryabitrockandrollApril 23 2007, 18:39:00 UTC
Prongs,
He wanted help with his potions. Since when does Moony ask for help with schoolwork? Downright unnatural. Messing with the order of things. I just don't know what to think anymore! (Are you suggesting, good sir, that I would presume to investigate rumours of superhuman werewolf stamina myself? Because, really, that is what Hufflepuffs are for, you know better.)
Brilliant plan had better involve some brilliant food if we're missing dinner. I shall waste away, and then whatever will you do? You will wither, that's what. Wither like something withered. Like Slughorn's withered little withered witherness. You will wither like Sinistra's withered nipples. (Picture that, Prongs. Picture it long and hard.)
scrawled on the back of the previous note, then ricocheted off the lamp and onto Sirius' deskwithknobsonApril 23 2007, 18:51:12 UTC
Padfoot,
Is he ill? Maybe we should send him to Pomfrey for a good onceover, you know he'd love it. (You mean we should set some Hufflepuffs loose and get Moony to chase them?)
Ahh stop whining, you're always thinking with your stomach. We can sneak down to the kitchens afterwards if you're so desperate. And I can't think of anything long and hard with regards to Sinistra's nipples. It's certainly not you, shorty.
new scrap of parchment, set in precarious orbit around James' headabitrockandrollApril 23 2007, 18:58:10 UTC
P,
I meant we should set some Hufflepuffs loose and let them chase Moony, but either way would be buckets of fun. We could sell tickets. Only, Pomfrey would butcher us for endangering her favourite little ward, wouldn't she. That woman is more than a little bit crazy. She force-feeds him chocolate. Who does that?
It was going to be something tasty tonight, I could smell it. Either there will be food on the mission or I will eat your leg, that is just it. And the Quidditch team will suffer, and it will be all your fault. And more withering will commence. You will wither like Snivellus' little withered urgh a bit nauseous, not even writing that down for fear of scarring self for life.
Point remains, however: bring food. Else I will, and you know no one wants that. (Specially M, as it is his clothing in which I shall be transporting said victuals.)
folded neatly in Sirius' sandwich, nestled between the pickles and a slice of hamwithknobsonApril 23 2007, 19:08:34 UTC
That might be the best idea you've ever had. Perhaps we could distract Pomfrey somehow, maybe break Snivellus's legs? Or give him some awful liver-wasting curse and then leave her to patch him up while we begin the festivities. Oh we could tie bells on him and everything, it'd be a glorious moment. Do you reckon all the chocolate would slow him down? Maybe we could take bets on who'll catch him, or if he'll just collapse in a sugar-crash and whimper pathetically until we take him to have Pomfrey kiss it all better.
Alright alright, I'll bring a picnic. Would that make you happy? I'll even find a picnic rug if you're very well-behaved.
I could play Quidditch without a leg. I bet Pomfrey would make me a pretend one if I asked her really nicely. And why are you even talking about bits of Snivellus if you're not talking about feeding them to Rottweilers? Stop it right this minute.
He'll get all sniffy and twitchy again, just you wait.
Comments 5
He wanted help with his potions. Since when does Moony ask for help with schoolwork? Downright unnatural. Messing with the order of things. I just don't know what to think anymore! (Are you suggesting, good sir, that I would presume to investigate rumours of superhuman werewolf stamina myself? Because, really, that is what Hufflepuffs are for, you know better.)
Brilliant plan had better involve some brilliant food if we're missing dinner. I shall waste away, and then whatever will you do? You will wither, that's what. Wither like something withered. Like Slughorn's withered little withered witherness. You will wither like Sinistra's withered nipples. (Picture that, Prongs. Picture it long and hard.)
Yeah, yeah, I'll be there.
Reply
Is he ill? Maybe we should send him to Pomfrey for a good onceover, you know he'd love it. (You mean we should set some Hufflepuffs loose and get Moony to chase them?)
Ahh stop whining, you're always thinking with your stomach. We can sneak down to the kitchens afterwards if you're so desperate. And I can't think of anything long and hard with regards to Sinistra's nipples. It's certainly not you, shorty.
Good.
Reply
I meant we should set some Hufflepuffs loose and let them chase Moony, but either way would be buckets of fun. We could sell tickets. Only, Pomfrey would butcher us for endangering her favourite little ward, wouldn't she. That woman is more than a little bit crazy. She force-feeds him chocolate. Who does that?
It was going to be something tasty tonight, I could smell it. Either there will be food on the mission or I will eat your leg, that is just it. And the Quidditch team will suffer, and it will be all your fault. And more withering will commence. You will wither like Snivellus' little withered urgh a bit nauseous, not even writing that down for fear of scarring self for life.
Point remains, however: bring food. Else I will, and you know no one wants that. (Specially M, as it is his clothing in which I shall be transporting said victuals.)
P.
Reply
Alright alright, I'll bring a picnic. Would that make you happy? I'll even find a picnic rug if you're very well-behaved.
I could play Quidditch without a leg. I bet Pomfrey would make me a pretend one if I asked her really nicely. And why are you even talking about bits of Snivellus if you're not talking about feeding them to Rottweilers? Stop it right this minute.
He'll get all sniffy and twitchy again, just you wait.
Reply
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