Nox (The Marauders, Wolfstar, Jily)

5: The Great Wanking Adventure

"I'm just saying, Pete, that whoever hexed that prefect is my new hero." James Potter was sprawled out across his bed upon his back: arms and legs dangling off the edges of bed at weird angles, and like this, Peter found himself thinking that James' legs did appear that little bit too long for his body - this was of course, nothing in comparison to Remus'.

Remus Lupin was all skinny and long limbs and awkward hands that were far bigger than he was used to; you could perhaps argue that Remus hadn't really grown at all, but had simply been stretched vertically over the summer, because it wouldn't be ridiculous to suggest that over half of his body consisted of just his legs, but of course with Remus' habit of wearing long, oversized sweaters, it was sometimes difficult to pinpoint exactly where his legs actually began.

James, however, even with his long legs, and being in that stage of somewhat awkwardly tall, had managed to make it work for himself. Perhaps this was down to James' natural instinct to just roll with whatever was thrown at him and grin and lie his way through the world if needs be - as long as no one he cared for got hurt, of course, because James was a little crazy and out of control, but there was of course a limit, and that limit lay when someone he cared for was in danger. Perhaps it was down to the fact that James played quidditch, but it wasn't really that James had real muscles or anything.

In truth, Peter wasn't entirely sure what it was with all of his best friends having long legs and some of them making it work better than others. He brushed such thoughts from his mind, and as he sat on his bed, only half listening to the nonsense James was spewing from his lips as he turned off his thought to speech filter in aid of conversation, and took a moment to be thankful for Sirius Black: a fellow soldier in the war against tall people. Of course, Sirius was still taller than him, but at least he was under six foot.

"I'm not saying that I'm against all prefects, just, you know? Most of them." James continued: his hands waving wildly as he spoke, because James Potter was all extravagant gestures accompanied by dramatised over exaggerated stories; he was living proof that actions could not speak louder than words, and Peter was rather certain that whoever had coined that saying had never once met anyone at all like James Potter. "And I mean, it's not uncalled for, is it? Prefects are dicks." He glanced in Pete's direction, perhaps having noticed his friend's silence as the two sat in the dormitory.

Peter was in two minds in regards to the subject. In truth, Peter was in two minds about a lot of things; he found himself to be very indecisive, and largely very unsure of himself, which was something he projected into his speech and world view. He tended to regard James as the voice of reason, for the most part, of course, as when he was being exceptionally stupid, Pete did have it within him to disagree it and tell him so, but when it came to situations such as these, where Peter just didn't quite know what to think, he went with James' opinion, because he trusted his word, as he trusted James, because if James Potter had one good thing going for him, he was loyal. Peter wasn't going to tell him that though, because he'd moan on about it being a Hufflepuff thing and how he was so much more courageous than that, which would serve to proof just exactly why he hadn't been placed into Hufflepuff.

"Most of them." Peter finally answered with a slight nod. "I mean, it's not like they ask to become a prefect is it? It's their job, I mean, I don't fancy going against McGonagall, do you?" He gave James a look, because of course, James took the greatest pleasure in doing just that.

"Yeah, that's why she makes all the stuck up prats prefects, isn't it-"

"Remus is a prefect." The words were out of Peter's lips before he could even really think about what he was doing.

James' eyes widened slightly, as if to convey a silent and suppressed 'oh shit', as he made quite the point of closing his mouth and sitting up: crossing his legs in the middle of the bed as he turned to face Peter, who was looking over him, not with disgust, as James' worst fears had expected, but with a certain inquisitiveness.