and other stories
Notes: Hey, I wrote some stuff. I know you weren't expecting this. I only posted, like, eight months ago, this is too soon. But, you know, the muse strikes when it strikes. I can't help that, and I can't help the strain I've just put on your poor little heart so do not ask. That's not all me. If you're anything like me, a great deal of that is McDonald's and Krispy Kreme.
Have fun, remember that I do love you all dearly (even if the aforementioned muse doesn't) and I do still read reviews, so don't think I won't notice if you don't leave one. ;)
We are entering our third hour of listening to Binns dissect the Warlock Convention of 1843.
That seems about right, yes.
Am I dying? I think I'm dying.
You are not dying. Pay attention. Maybe if you did you'd find something of interest--
Check my pulse.
Your pulse is fine.
Feel it. I think it's erratic.
Your pulse is erotic?
Go away. I am not in the mood for your childish antics.
You made that same joke three days ago.
I have matured considerably since then. It is not my fault if Wormtail has not made the same progression.
You've matured, you say?
So...when you replaced James's toothpaste with Super Sticky Stuff this morning, effectively preventing him from opening his mouth for at least 14 hours...that was a display of your newfound maturity?
Nah. I'm trying to teach him to breathe through his nose.
I'm bored. Someone needs to entertain me.
Why are you giving this to me? It's not my turn. I did it on Wednesday.
Wormtail, you entertain me. You haven't done it in a while.
You're forgetting Monday.
What did you do on Monday? I don't remember Monday.
That's unsurprising; you slept through most of it.
So I would certainly remember whatever it is Wormtail did to entertain me, wouldn't I? I don't, so it must have been supremely underwhelming.
I drew you a comic.
Not ringing any bells, I'm afraid.
I most certainly do not.
I drew you on the beach with Irina Halifax...you were wearing little purple shorts and drank out of a coconut...
Ah, yes, now I remember. That was a terrible, terrible comic, Wormtail.
You said you liked it.
I lied. It was an insult to cartoonists everywhere. Charles Schulz would have slit his wrists out of shame upon coming into contact with that piece of garbage. I should confiscate anything in your possession that could possibly be used as a writing utensil―pens, sticks, your fingers―so as to prevent an atrocity like that from ever happening again. I'm not going to do that, however, because I'm rather fond of you, Wormtail, your total lack of artistic talent notwithstanding. Which is why I'm going to give you a chance to redeem yourself.
Oh, you'd best not be trifling with me, Padfoot! My heart would simply break if you told me I would never be able to stroke your ego again!
I'm getting a little tired of your lip, Wormtail.
Okay, tell me if this sounds good: "Lily―I am sorry that I threw up on your shoes."
A promising start.
Really? It's good?
That's not all you have, is it?
Well, so far.
"Lily, I'm sorry I threw up on your shoes"? That is your heartfelt apology?
You said that I needed to acknowledge the problem and then admit that I was wrong to do it and apologize for it. I did that.
The problem was not that you threw up on her shoes! The problem was that you showed up at her birthday party completely pissed, embarrassing her (not to mention yourself, surely) in front of her family. She had to carry you up the stairs herself and stay up with you to ensure that you didn't choke on your own vomit and die. On her birthday.
I wasn't that drunk. She exaggerates.
Prongs, she said you introduced yourself as King Henry VIII.
I call myself that all the time.
No. You don't.
Sure, I do.
No, Prongs. You don't.
In my head, maybe.
Do yourself a favor and be quiet.
Oh, so you're tetchy with me, too?
I am not tetchy.
You are tetchy.
Do not make me say 'tetchy' again, Prongs, or I will be forced to gouge your eyes out with a paring knife and then proceed to fashion earrings out of them.
Cor, that'd be weird.
Do you want to die?
I am trying to lighten the mood!
It's not the time, Prongs, that's all. We are trying to help you.
I know that; I'm not four.
Lily is extraordinarily angry with you.
I know. She's my girlfriend. I had to listen to her screaming at me about how I'm irresponsible and immature and...a whole bunch of other adjectives that start with 'i'.
She's not out of line there, Prongs.
Whose side are you on!
There is no side. She's trying to help you.
No, she's not. She's just upset because I 'ruined her party' or whatever, but she's the one who drove me to the bottle.
That is your defense, Prongs?
It's not a defense, it's true! Lily—when she gets nervous about something, she transfers her anxiety onto other people. I wasn't nervous about meeting her family before she started giving me these big long lectures about things I wasn't allowed to do or say in front of them and telling me which relatives would probably hate me even if I didn't do the things she told me not to and then she made me change four times and she put glue in my hair to try to make it lie flat and they weren't having a cake and I just...needed a drink. I've never felt like I needed a drink before. So, yes, I drank a little. But only because if I didn't I would be forced to go on a killing spree.
Did you tell her that?
Yes. And she said that I sounded like an alcoholic.
Well, she's not exactly out of line there, either.
Is that you that smells like gardenia?
It may be.
Well, I know it isn't Padfoot; he always smells like one type of crude oil or another.
I do not smell like crude oil. I smell masculine.
Masculinity, then, smells distinctly of petroleum. And I know Moony doesn't smell like gardenia because he smells like dust. So it must be you, because there are only so many people in this library and I can't smell the others because they're far away.
Ah. Well, I suppose I can't argue with such evidence.
May I ask why you smell like gardenia?
Why do you smell like gardenia?
No real reason.
How about a fake one?
You've always been so clever, Prongs.
Answer the question, ignore the way I phrased it.
Why are you being so aggressive in your questioning, Prongs?
He smells like Lily.
Lots of girls smell like Lily.
You are not a girl!
Prongs, this is ridiculous. Do you honestly think Lily would chose to do the dirt on you with Wormtail?
Why wouldn't she?
Are you saying she's out of my league?
No one is out of your league, Wormtail. Prongs, if Wormtail wants to smell like gardenia, that is his decision and you should respect it.
I wasn't even saying that!
Yes, you were!
Well, that's true, I was. But Lily wouldn't do the dirt on you anyway, James. So you can stop being such a paranoid freak.
I am not paranoid.
You are! I don't know what it is with you lately, but if anyone else even talks to her you go into a strop.
That is an unfounded accusation and I resent it!
Unfounded! I asked her if I could borrow a quill yesterday and you slapped me!
You were being cheeky.
I said, "Lily, may I borrow a quill?" How is that cheeky?
It was the way you said it.
And how did I say it?
You did that—that eyebrow thing.
...You mean, that thing where I have eyebrows? Because I do that an awful lot, it'd be fairly difficult for me to pick out one specific instance.
Prongs, you must admit you sound a tad...
What, Moony? I sound a tad what?
Well, crazed. But I mean that in the best possible way.
You did an eyebrow thing, Padfoot, and you know exactly what I'm talking about.
Oh, let's just get this over with. James, I am not after your girlfriend. I may have inadvertently flirted with her at one point or another, but I have flirted with everyone at one point or another. It means nothing. I am not interested in her. I don't even want a girlfriend right now.
I didn't say you wanted a girlfriend. But you have said that girls with boyfriends are the best girls to go after because their boyfriends deal with all their emotional crap and you get to fool around with them.
Oh, hell, James, is that what this is about?
This is not about anything.
James, that was my big theory when I was in, what, fourth year? When I didn't actually know anything about girls? I read it in a magazine somewhere; it was almost totally baseless. It doesn't change the fact that I am not interested in Lily.
What about you, Wormtail?
I'm sorry. I stopped paying attention.
Just say no.
Then why do you smell like gardenia, Wormtail?