The Marauders: Year Five #Wattys2017

Greasy Headed Garbage Monkey

Greasy Headed Garbage Monkey

James was under the invisibility cloak under his bed.

It took the boys several minutes to find him and they'd only done because Peter had sat on the bed and made the mattress groan threateningly and James had muttered, "Please don't crush me," from underneath. Sirius stuck his hands under and grasped about 'til he found James's ankles and tugged him out, sliding him across the carpet on his belly like a slug.

"What in hell are you doing, Potter?" Sirius asked.

Remus looked on from where he'd perched himself at the desk, sitting backwards so his chin rested on his arms, which were folded over the back of the chair. Peter scrambled to lean over the footboard of the bed and Sirius stared down, standing over James and holding the shimmery silver cloak in his fists with concern.

"Being invisible, thank you," James held out his hand, "Now give me back my cloak."

Sirius flung the cloak over one shoulder (which looked very odd indeed) and paced away, "No... no, I don't think so. You see, I've just come onboard a train for many, many miles to spend holiday with my mate, not with a whimpering invisible lump." Sirius folded the cloak and shoved it into the top drawer of James's dresser, then turned back around. "Now. Tell us what happened."

Peter turned and got James's glasses from the nightstand, where he'd put them before going under the bed, and handed them to James, who shoved them on his face. He sighed, "It's Evans."

"Of course it's Evans," Sirius said, rolling his eyes, "It's always bleedin' Evans. What did the little beast do now?" Remus made a face at Sirius for calling her the name, but Sirius just shrugged, "What? I could've said bitch but I refrained, didn't I?"

"Well not now you haven't," Remus replied. "You shouldn't call her that. It's not polite."

"Polite!" Sirius hooted. "And breaking our dear James's heart is polite, I s'pose?"

"Now is not the time for puns, you idiot," hissed Remus, motioning at James's despondant state.

"Puns? I didn't make a --" Sirius's face dawned with realization, "Oh damn, but I did doe, didn't I?" He looked at James. "Potter. Do you find puns fawny right now? Or shall I be more Sirius?"

James looked up at Sirius with a wide watery eyes.

Sirius looked abashed. "Okay. Not in the mood for joking. Got it."

Remus cleared his throat.

"You were right," Sirius said in a rehearsed voice.

"And?"

"I'm sorry, Potter," Sirius added. He looked at Remus, "Bugger."

Remus looked pleased though.

Peter murmured, "You've got him well trained."

Sirius eyed Peter.

"Alright, James, what went on?" Remus asked.

"Is this on account of Snape and him being an arsehole?" Sirius asked.

"Sort of," James said with a sigh. He sat up, folding his legs, and staring down at his Gryffindor-red pyjama bottoms and stocking feet, then pulled the letter out of his pocket and handed it up to Remus, who unfolded it, and read outloud:

"Dear James, I know what you did. I can't believe how terrible a mistake I almost made, falling for your charm! A load of lies and pretty magic. You're a horrible person, and until things change I don't know that I can even look at you. I'm so angry! Lily Evans."