Our Stern Alarums Changed to Merry Meetings (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
blanketforts Day 05)
Jan. 7th, 2006 10:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rosie_ruesTitle: Our Stern Alarums Changed to Merry Meetings
Rating: PG for language
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just borrowing them because I like them.
Wordcount: 1563
Prompt: Boots in a patch of melted snow.
Notes: You still can't see anything. Because I'm still not... *sighs* Who am I fooling?
Title from Richard III. Friday night is Curry Night and a thief is discovered.
1 2 3 4 5
Moony and Wormtail were going to die, the skiving traitors. Die in slow and painful ways. Padfoot had suggested barbequing but James wanted something less prosaic. Something grand.
He kicked his wellies off by the back door and stuck his head back out into the night. It was snowing again. “Get a move on!”
Sirius answered him with a string of obscenities, ending with, “And my toes are going to burst. You’ll have toe goo all over your ruddy garden.”
“It’s not my fault you don’t own a pair of wellies, city boy.”
“We’re not all country bumpkins,” Sirius muttered as he hobbled through the door. James’ dad’s wellies were far too small for him. “And it was your idea to portkey all your furniture into the garden shed.”
James shrugged. “Didn’t want to mess up the walls inside.”
“But we had to carry it in,” Sirius said, with the edge of a whine. “And I’m hungry.”
“Not my fault. Bloody wankers.”
“Bastards,” Sirius said with feeling.
They’d dumped most of the furniture in the living room to sort later but there were a couple of battered chairs in here. James dropped into one with a groan. It creaked under him dangerously but held. Amazing the stuff his parents kept in the attic.
“Your mum could have given us food,” Sirius said, hopping. “Ow, ow, ow. My toes.”
“Can’t blame her for not wanting you in the kitchen without fair warning.”
“I only blew it up once.”
“I think,” James said, feeling wise, “that as far as kitchens go, once is enough.”
“Hmph. Bastards.”
James nodded sleepily. His back ached from lugging furniture across the dark garden. And, yeah, fine, Remus probably should have gone home while the Floo was up, but Peter ought to be here. It was Friday night and Friday night was Curry night and should be sacred. What sort of bloody Maurauders were they, moaning about being overworked?
“Need curry. Currry. Beeeer.”
“Beer in fridge. Curry not here.”
“Curry!” Sirius lowed, treading slush across the floor.
James shot upright. “Boots! Off!” He wasn’t letting Sirius Black muck up his house before Lily had even seen it.
Sirius scowled. “I can’t get them off. They’re stuck. I shall be wearing wellies for the rest of my life.”
“The Auror in Red Wellies,” James said, warming to the theme. “Like John Steel and his umbrella.”
“You what?”
On second thoughts, there probably hadn’t been much Muggle culture in the House of Black. “Buy a television, Padfoot.”
“I did,” Sirius said gloomily, sitting on the worktop and shaking his feet in the air. “The elektrissummy ate it.”
James opened his mouth to ask and then thought better of it. Electricity was a peculiar thing.
The red welly went flying across the kitchen, spraying out half-melted snow. James howled and dived after it before it hit his pristine yellow walls. Sirius whooped and shook his other leg like Padfoot after a swim. The other welly slammed past James’ head and he swore and grabbed it.
“Git. For that you’re making the tea. And Flooing out for the curry.”
Sirius muttered but filled the kettle up and started banging through cupboards in search of tea. James sat back with a sigh of relief. The weekend. Finally the weekend. For a three day week it had been far too shitty. Okay, he’d spent New Year’s Eve smuggled into Lily’s bed, trying not to wake her parents up. But then he’d gone and blurted out, “Will you m-meet the walrus?” just as they were falling asleep and he’d had to fly home alone. Then there had been Hemel Hempstead on Wednesday. Nobody had died that time, thank Merlin, but the fires had still been smouldering. He hated it, trying to soothe the Muggles who didn’t know why their homes were burning and their neighbours had fled in the night. Sometimes, when he whispered the words and the knowledge faded from their faces, he envied them. He had no way to forget.
He wanted Lily here. He never wanted to stand in her front drive and cast the spell to make her parents forget they’d ever had a younger daughter. He wanted her safe and-
“Son-of-a-bitch! Potter, you bastard!”
He blinked as Sirius whirled to glare at him, bright with rage.
“My teapot! My tea!. You stole my fucking tea!”
He had. Sirius had a whole cupboard of the stuff. “You don’t like tea. Didn’t think you’d miss it.”
“It’s for guests!” Sirius snapped.
“All twenty boxes?”
“Yes!” Sirius was still glaring at him murderously.
James blinked. “Isn’t that taking the perfect host thing too far?”
“No.”
He hesitated. The daft bastard was actually upset. “You can take it back.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“Why?”
Sirius glared and then turned away, crashing purloined mugs together dangerously.
“Padfoot?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Pads.”
“S’Moony’s tea, alright? And he had to go out and buy some yesterday ‘cause some thieving git had nicked it.”
“You keep a whole cupboard of tea just for Moony?”
Clatter, clatter, thump The kettle was beginning to squeal.
James winced. Together with what Peter had said about New Year – damn. Bloody Sirius and his bloody complications.
“I thought you two weren’t doing that any more?”
“We’re not.”
“Right. So just being friendly.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a cupboard full of chocolate hobnobs for Wormy?”
Sirius glared at him. “No.”
“So?”
“Fuck off, Potter.”
“It’s my house,” James said and couldn’t bite back the grin. He had a house.
“I’m getting curry.”
James looked at him and decided not to push. He was too tired for explosions. “Got any Muggle money?”
“I’ve got two beardy blokes, the dumpy bird and the old geezer in the pointy hat.”
“Have they all got recent dates?” Sirius was still a little hazy on the difference between paper money and chocolate frog cards.
“Yeah.”
“Go ahead. There’s one down the end of the road, if you need a walk.”
With Sirius gone, James slumped back in his chair. He probably ought to move some furniture. Get the bed upstairs at least. Course, he’d have to hang some curtains first or the Muggle neighbours might get suspicious.
Alternatively, he could stay in this nice comfy chair and admire his kitchen. He had a whole kitchen all of his own. A yellow kitchen. Did Lily like yellow? Should he repaint it?
To stop worrying, he considered Sirius. He’d assumed the days of Sirius-and-Remus were all but forgotten. The Prank had killed it. He wasn’t sure which of them had been damaged more. Remus had almost slipped away from them, into that friendless, self-contained silence he had occupied during their first weeks at Hogwarts. Sirius had raged, turning on himself until he could no longer bear to be human. Then they had been friends again and nothing more and everything had been, more-or-less, back to normal.
But Sirius kept a whole cupboard of tea in his flat.
He’d always thought Remus was rather wistful about the whole thing. Sirius had seemed fine, though. Angry but fine. Though if what Peter said was right, he was still angry. Just not fine.
James sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He needed to talk to Lily about it. She understood Remus better than he did. There was no point pushing Sirius until he had some idea what Remus felt. If he pushed Sirius, Sirius would do something and James didn’t know if Remus wanted something to be done. Stupid git.
Both of them. And Peter, too, come to think of it, sneaking off to his job and never telling them anything about it. Anyone would think-
James sat up. He had it. He’d worked out what Peter did.
He said as much to Sirius when the other boy came crashing back in.
“Yeah?” Sirius asked, dumping the foil containers in front of them. He plonked two cans of beer in the centre of the table and slid into the seat opposite. “First one to drink’s a girl.”
“You’re on.” It would be a decent contest this time. Peter always lost when they were all here. Remus, the bugger, always won.
Sirius dug his fork in, eyes gleaming. James had a nasty feeling he had dared the people in the takeaway to make it really hot again. “So?” he asked. “What do you reckon?”
“Paperwork,” James said solemnly. “Nothing weird about that, right? So it must be where he’s working.” He took a careful mouthful. Holy fuck.
“Too hot?” Sirius said, shovelling another mouthful in.
“Mild, mate. Mild.”
“See, I knew you weren’t up for a real challenge. Told them to take it easy on you.”
“You’re just too scared yourself. You know I am the man.”
“You’re a girl. Jamesina in a pretty frock. Thirsty yet?”
“No. Your throat feeling dry?”
“Couldn’t touch a drop.” His eyes were watering, though.
James swallowed and thought of Lily. This was honour. “So, Peter, yeah?”
“Yeah?” Sirius’ eyes were beginning to cross.
“Know what I reckon?”
“Nah.”
“Strip joint.”
Sirius choked on his curry. Then, with a howl of agony, he grabbed his beer. “Gond ub by nose. Ah. Ah. Ah.” He gulped beer down, eyes streaming.
“Who’s a pretty girl, then? Dear little Siria. Got a pretty dress?”
“You fucker.”
“Siria and Peter up a tree-”
And, like Curry Night ought to, it ended in violence.
Rating: PG for language
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just borrowing them because I like them.
Wordcount: 1563
Prompt: Boots in a patch of melted snow.
Notes: You still can't see anything. Because I'm still not... *sighs* Who am I fooling?
Title from Richard III. Friday night is Curry Night and a thief is discovered.
1 2 3 4 5
Moony and Wormtail were going to die, the skiving traitors. Die in slow and painful ways. Padfoot had suggested barbequing but James wanted something less prosaic. Something grand.
He kicked his wellies off by the back door and stuck his head back out into the night. It was snowing again. “Get a move on!”
Sirius answered him with a string of obscenities, ending with, “And my toes are going to burst. You’ll have toe goo all over your ruddy garden.”
“It’s not my fault you don’t own a pair of wellies, city boy.”
“We’re not all country bumpkins,” Sirius muttered as he hobbled through the door. James’ dad’s wellies were far too small for him. “And it was your idea to portkey all your furniture into the garden shed.”
James shrugged. “Didn’t want to mess up the walls inside.”
“But we had to carry it in,” Sirius said, with the edge of a whine. “And I’m hungry.”
“Not my fault. Bloody wankers.”
“Bastards,” Sirius said with feeling.
They’d dumped most of the furniture in the living room to sort later but there were a couple of battered chairs in here. James dropped into one with a groan. It creaked under him dangerously but held. Amazing the stuff his parents kept in the attic.
“Your mum could have given us food,” Sirius said, hopping. “Ow, ow, ow. My toes.”
“Can’t blame her for not wanting you in the kitchen without fair warning.”
“I only blew it up once.”
“I think,” James said, feeling wise, “that as far as kitchens go, once is enough.”
“Hmph. Bastards.”
James nodded sleepily. His back ached from lugging furniture across the dark garden. And, yeah, fine, Remus probably should have gone home while the Floo was up, but Peter ought to be here. It was Friday night and Friday night was Curry night and should be sacred. What sort of bloody Maurauders were they, moaning about being overworked?
“Need curry. Currry. Beeeer.”
“Beer in fridge. Curry not here.”
“Curry!” Sirius lowed, treading slush across the floor.
James shot upright. “Boots! Off!” He wasn’t letting Sirius Black muck up his house before Lily had even seen it.
Sirius scowled. “I can’t get them off. They’re stuck. I shall be wearing wellies for the rest of my life.”
“The Auror in Red Wellies,” James said, warming to the theme. “Like John Steel and his umbrella.”
“You what?”
On second thoughts, there probably hadn’t been much Muggle culture in the House of Black. “Buy a television, Padfoot.”
“I did,” Sirius said gloomily, sitting on the worktop and shaking his feet in the air. “The elektrissummy ate it.”
James opened his mouth to ask and then thought better of it. Electricity was a peculiar thing.
The red welly went flying across the kitchen, spraying out half-melted snow. James howled and dived after it before it hit his pristine yellow walls. Sirius whooped and shook his other leg like Padfoot after a swim. The other welly slammed past James’ head and he swore and grabbed it.
“Git. For that you’re making the tea. And Flooing out for the curry.”
Sirius muttered but filled the kettle up and started banging through cupboards in search of tea. James sat back with a sigh of relief. The weekend. Finally the weekend. For a three day week it had been far too shitty. Okay, he’d spent New Year’s Eve smuggled into Lily’s bed, trying not to wake her parents up. But then he’d gone and blurted out, “Will you m-meet the walrus?” just as they were falling asleep and he’d had to fly home alone. Then there had been Hemel Hempstead on Wednesday. Nobody had died that time, thank Merlin, but the fires had still been smouldering. He hated it, trying to soothe the Muggles who didn’t know why their homes were burning and their neighbours had fled in the night. Sometimes, when he whispered the words and the knowledge faded from their faces, he envied them. He had no way to forget.
He wanted Lily here. He never wanted to stand in her front drive and cast the spell to make her parents forget they’d ever had a younger daughter. He wanted her safe and-
“Son-of-a-bitch! Potter, you bastard!”
He blinked as Sirius whirled to glare at him, bright with rage.
“My teapot! My tea!. You stole my fucking tea!”
He had. Sirius had a whole cupboard of the stuff. “You don’t like tea. Didn’t think you’d miss it.”
“It’s for guests!” Sirius snapped.
“All twenty boxes?”
“Yes!” Sirius was still glaring at him murderously.
James blinked. “Isn’t that taking the perfect host thing too far?”
“No.”
He hesitated. The daft bastard was actually upset. “You can take it back.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“Why?”
Sirius glared and then turned away, crashing purloined mugs together dangerously.
“Padfoot?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Pads.”
“S’Moony’s tea, alright? And he had to go out and buy some yesterday ‘cause some thieving git had nicked it.”
“You keep a whole cupboard of tea just for Moony?”
Clatter, clatter, thump The kettle was beginning to squeal.
James winced. Together with what Peter had said about New Year – damn. Bloody Sirius and his bloody complications.
“I thought you two weren’t doing that any more?”
“We’re not.”
“Right. So just being friendly.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a cupboard full of chocolate hobnobs for Wormy?”
Sirius glared at him. “No.”
“So?”
“Fuck off, Potter.”
“It’s my house,” James said and couldn’t bite back the grin. He had a house.
“I’m getting curry.”
James looked at him and decided not to push. He was too tired for explosions. “Got any Muggle money?”
“I’ve got two beardy blokes, the dumpy bird and the old geezer in the pointy hat.”
“Have they all got recent dates?” Sirius was still a little hazy on the difference between paper money and chocolate frog cards.
“Yeah.”
“Go ahead. There’s one down the end of the road, if you need a walk.”
With Sirius gone, James slumped back in his chair. He probably ought to move some furniture. Get the bed upstairs at least. Course, he’d have to hang some curtains first or the Muggle neighbours might get suspicious.
Alternatively, he could stay in this nice comfy chair and admire his kitchen. He had a whole kitchen all of his own. A yellow kitchen. Did Lily like yellow? Should he repaint it?
To stop worrying, he considered Sirius. He’d assumed the days of Sirius-and-Remus were all but forgotten. The Prank had killed it. He wasn’t sure which of them had been damaged more. Remus had almost slipped away from them, into that friendless, self-contained silence he had occupied during their first weeks at Hogwarts. Sirius had raged, turning on himself until he could no longer bear to be human. Then they had been friends again and nothing more and everything had been, more-or-less, back to normal.
But Sirius kept a whole cupboard of tea in his flat.
He’d always thought Remus was rather wistful about the whole thing. Sirius had seemed fine, though. Angry but fine. Though if what Peter said was right, he was still angry. Just not fine.
James sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He needed to talk to Lily about it. She understood Remus better than he did. There was no point pushing Sirius until he had some idea what Remus felt. If he pushed Sirius, Sirius would do something and James didn’t know if Remus wanted something to be done. Stupid git.
Both of them. And Peter, too, come to think of it, sneaking off to his job and never telling them anything about it. Anyone would think-
James sat up. He had it. He’d worked out what Peter did.
He said as much to Sirius when the other boy came crashing back in.
“Yeah?” Sirius asked, dumping the foil containers in front of them. He plonked two cans of beer in the centre of the table and slid into the seat opposite. “First one to drink’s a girl.”
“You’re on.” It would be a decent contest this time. Peter always lost when they were all here. Remus, the bugger, always won.
Sirius dug his fork in, eyes gleaming. James had a nasty feeling he had dared the people in the takeaway to make it really hot again. “So?” he asked. “What do you reckon?”
“Paperwork,” James said solemnly. “Nothing weird about that, right? So it must be where he’s working.” He took a careful mouthful. Holy fuck.
“Too hot?” Sirius said, shovelling another mouthful in.
“Mild, mate. Mild.”
“See, I knew you weren’t up for a real challenge. Told them to take it easy on you.”
“You’re just too scared yourself. You know I am the man.”
“You’re a girl. Jamesina in a pretty frock. Thirsty yet?”
“No. Your throat feeling dry?”
“Couldn’t touch a drop.” His eyes were watering, though.
James swallowed and thought of Lily. This was honour. “So, Peter, yeah?”
“Yeah?” Sirius’ eyes were beginning to cross.
“Know what I reckon?”
“Nah.”
“Strip joint.”
Sirius choked on his curry. Then, with a howl of agony, he grabbed his beer. “Gond ub by nose. Ah. Ah. Ah.” He gulped beer down, eyes streaming.
“Who’s a pretty girl, then? Dear little Siria. Got a pretty dress?”
“You fucker.”
“Siria and Peter up a tree-”
And, like Curry Night ought to, it ended in violence.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-01-07 11:28 pm (UTC)Oh, and I love the fact Sirius did actually have his tea nicked, and that it was James. Very nice.
But naturally, as this doesn't exist, there will be sequels in my mind, yes?
Good, good.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-07 11:48 pm (UTC)Imaginary sequels? Er, maybe. Hypothetically. ^_^
Thanks for the comment :)
no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 12:21 am (UTC)Another thing that cracked me up: Sirius and the paper money. Heh.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 12:40 am (UTC)I'm glad the money amused you. I actually tried to find out who was on banknotes of the time. I can't remember who I decided the beardy bloke was (there always seems to be a beardy bloke) but the other two are Florence Nightingale (£10) and the Duke of Wellington (£5).
Thanks for the comment :)
no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 03:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 10:34 am (UTC)Thanks for the comment :)
no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 06:29 am (UTC)LOL!
I like your choice for James' job. It's different than the (stereo)typical auror or quidditch player role and it suits him... Very nice.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 10:39 am (UTC)I was skimming through the list of departments on the Lexicon trying to work out where Lily was when I spotted the section about Obliviators. It was a fairly easy jump to see them taking on clean-up duty during the war. Calm the Muggles down, make them forget and repair the damage - it would need charm, ingenuity and a gift for transfiguration. It seemed like something James would be good at. Sirius and Remus both have personalities that fit being an auror. I'm not sure that James, as I write him, has.
Thanks for the comment :)
no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 07:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 10:43 am (UTC)Thanks :) I'm glad you liked it.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 06:52 pm (UTC)I am so, so incredibly happy that you are
writing fic againmost definitely not writing fic. XDno subject
Date: 2006-01-08 07:05 pm (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed it :)
no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 07:01 pm (UTC)And the fact that Sirius' (Remus') tea really was stolen was priceless.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 07:07 pm (UTC)Well, of course Sirius keeps tea for his Moony. ^_^
Thanks for the comment :)
no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 03:53 am (UTC)In conclusion, awesome story.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 09:26 am (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed the fic. I had a lot of fun writing it :)
no subject
Date: 2006-02-05 11:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-06 06:10 pm (UTC)*chuckles* For four of the last six years I've been the only girl living in a corridor/house full of blokes. It better have had some use (besides always having someone around who can reach the top shelves).
Thanks for the comment :)
no subject
Date: 2008-07-25 08:27 pm (UTC)Ouchie.
“My teapot! My tea!. You stole my fucking tea!”
He had. Sirius had a whole cupboard of the stuff. “You don’t like tea. Didn’t think you’d miss it.”
“It’s for guests!” Sirius snapped.
“All twenty boxes?”
“Yes!” Sirius was still glaring at him murderously.
James blinked. “Isn’t that taking the perfect host thing too far?”
“No.”
He hesitated. The daft bastard was actually upset. “You can take it back.”
“It’s too late for that.”
*SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAL. innowayithastodowiththathewantsremusoverthererightohgodhessuchanidiotbutilovehimanywayandREMUS.
“It’s my house,” James said and couldn’t bite back the grin. He had a house.
Gotta love that berk, mwahaha.