- Padfoot and Prongs -

Author's Notes: This is basically a collection of letters from Sirius and James fifth year. I came up with it after one of my friends sent me a letter for no particular reason what-so-ever. I'd really love to know what you think because I'm still really unsure about it. There is *no* hinting of slash in this fic, it is simply letters between two best friends ~Sarah.

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters and places from the Harry Potter series belong to their respective owners. I am not gaining anything from writing this but my own amusement.


Wikepin's cold and revolting dungeon
2nd September, 1977, 11:54pm

To my dear and true friend Mister Prongs,

I will not tell lies. I will not tell lies. I will not.... keep wasting parchment....

As the moon slowly reaches its peak, and I find myself sitting in the same room as our "beloved" potions professor writing out the lines of a liar, I wonder why my most loyal and best friend is missing from this scenario.

You pitiful double-crossing prat!

Need I remind you that the escapade that I am currently being punished for was neither a product of my wonderful ideas, nor my brilliant mind, but instead was assumably your great idea. So why, may you ask, am I sitting in the cold and gloomy dungeon abandoned and miserable, while you are snugly dreaming of a certain redhead?

Because this certain redhead, your one and only true love, decided that I had to be the master mind behind the foolery that occurred earlier this evening.

I am sure that a mutual friend of ours, a one Mr Moony, would have explained the unfair, while not-so-unpredictable circumstances that brought me to my present situation, but I wish to tell you the sequence of events myself, so that perhaps you might find some reason to get me out of here, or at least explain to me why when I attempted to call you through this interesting reflection showing item, your mother answered telling me that I should be in bed by now.

I find it most annoying that the green eyed angel (from below) believes that because she has a certain letter 'P' on pinned to her robes she is the Queen of the common room. And it pains me to see that you are so blinded by a feeling that you call love, (while others agree would be better known as obsession) that you seemed to have over looked this slight fault in the goddess, most commonly known as Lily Evans.

And while what's left of the glimmer of hope that still shines as brightly as Sirius does in the night sky, I do have to consider the possibility that you have looked over the fact that Miss Evans welcomed our disgusting potions professor, Wickepin, and a certain slimy haired git into our common room with open arms as soon as she heard that I was suspected for the foolery that took place earlier this evening.

Of course I knew nothing of the Marauders latest attack that turned a Malfoy, and the slimy haired git into fluffy pink bunny rabbits as I was in detention with our "lovable" head of house when the prank was played.

Now while I would have liked to be able to claim that such handy work was my own, I did not want to waste any more useful pranking hours writing lines, which is probably the most boring form of punishment ever invented. So I denied everything, and the result:

I will not tell lies. I will not tell lies. I will not tell lies. I will not tell lies. I will not tell lies. I will not tell lies. I will not tell lies. I will not tell lies. I will not tell LIES!!

Only one remotely good thing has happened since I was brought down here three hours ago. About five minutes ago a huge black bird - it may have once been an owl - flew in calling Wikepin away. So now while I am sitting here writing out my lines, with the company of none but the ugly black bird, whom by the way only agreed to take this letter to you after I said he could peck you until you get up and reply, I was able to get some satisfaction out of waking you from peaceful sleep.

Most sincerely wishing you were here.

Mr Padfoot.