prongedwords

[prongedwords]

"REMUS," James called back to one of his dearest friends, utterly unaware of his volume and largely considering it irrelevant to anything that mattered, just as he did any day of his life. There was something terribly funny about a tipsy Remus, James knew, and he shot the other a shit-eating grin. [I've been here, looking cute and feeling good], James signed back to the other. He hadn't been drinking and so his signs were crisp and sharp. [Wanted to go stag]. James grinned at the other , completely pleased with himself for the pun, especially as he signed the word with antlers. [I'll follow you], he yielded with a half-bow. [Sounds like fun and it's getting bloody crowded in here anyways].

Who: Remus & @prongedwords Where: Somewhere near the dance floor

"JAMES!" Remus yelled his name in excitement, finally having found a friend. He'd been alone most of the night, sort of speaking to anybody even remotely familiar to him, and drinking whatever alcohol they'd been able to sneak in. By this point, Remus was quite tipsy, but he was so glad to now be with James. [Where the hell have you been all night? I've been looking everywhere for you.] His signs were a little more messy than usual, being quite tipsy, but he was certain that James would understand. [Come outside with me to get some air? I stole a cigarette from some eighth-year, we can split it if you'd like.]

[prongedwords]

It was the feeling of knowing one has, without a doubt, screwed that drove James to dropping his hands to his side. Oh, he thought, oh sweet Morgana, I think I've terribly screwed up. There is something to be said for such a realization, even when it comes on the tail of realizing that no one could outspite Narcissa Black. Apparently not even learning a language she had no reason to learn solely to figure out what he was saying across the bloody Great Hall was beyond her. It was mildly terrifying.

[Narcissa Black, you've been holding out on me], he declared, fast movements betraying both his shock and the creeping frustration, though he immediately made himself comfortable in his preferred language. [Don't suppose you could have told me earlier before I made a fool of myself]. Of course she couldn't have. He imagined that that was part of the fun of it, making it clear that she knew more than he could have imagined, solely for the look he had no doubt was on his face now.

[I would have imagined being blasted off your precious tapestry would free you of his brilliance], he sneered, choppy and short signs conveying how little he thought of the entire thing. [Not like you seem particularly worried on the company you keep reflecting on him. These things go both ways, Black. You can't have one without the other. Don't be a damn hypocrite and liar.]

his mockery of small talk is ignored. despite what potter might believe, narcissa has no love for the empty little nothings that etiquette dictates must be offered ; there is a reason she had not opened with such things. when he signs her gaze flickers down to follow the movement, and it is practice that allows her to keep her face still and empty.

she understands more than he thinks. one can only take so many years of being signed at from across rooms before one decides to learn. in secret, largely. narcissa has never practiced against anything other than pictures and mirrors. she knows enough to know what he says, though, despite the way her impassive eyes leave his hands to look in his eyes. spite had driven her learning of british sign language, and the need to know if he was mocking her when he signed something at her rather than spoke it.

it is rather tempting not to play this card quite yet. she has had a good deal of fun - as much fun as she ever has - eavesdropping when james and his friends thought it impossible for her to understand. narcissa is loathe to lose that ability.

"i suppose," she says, not knowing the word he chooses to use but not bothering to ask for a translation. it is the question he asks that has her pausing, brows furrowing for the briefest moment as though confused. [ sirius is my cousin, ] she replies in quick but slightly clumsy sign, [ no matter how he feels about it, his actions reflect upon me. ] a lie, but i still worry about him is too dangerous to even sign.

[prongedwords]

Few things promised trouble more than Narcissa Black, at least to someone like James Potter. He never felt quite like he was able to keep up with here, that classic struggle of Gryffindor versus Slytherin combined with her presence in the castle as one of the many that didn't know his preferred language, he always felt at least two steps behind her any time they spoke.

"Yes, Narcissa," he groaned with a roll of his eyes, "it is so lovely to see you too, you look stunning, I'm sure the refreshments will get better with time," he let out in a breath, following up every routine and boring pureblood conversation his family had ever complained about. Signing, he added [You know, this would be much easier if you had any idea what I was saying].

At the word that slipped out of her mouth, James' brow crinkled. It was hard to tell if that was a word he knew and it was poorly pronounced, or if his implants were on the fritz, or if his lip reading skills had suddenly decided to go to take like a Hippogryph and fuck right off. He paused for a moment, thinking. What was that word? Context meant... Oh! "My xiōngdì?" He nodded, pleased he found a word he thought worked. "They're about having fun. I'm rubbish at hearing instrumentals, you know, so I told them to have fun with it and I'd watch the room." [Why do you care?] He added, despite knowing he'd not get an answer, not from her.

where: the dessert table who: narcissa & @prongedwords

seeing james potter on his own is a reason to be concerned. it scarcely seems to bode well when one of his friends, narcissa's cousin included, is not glued to his side. "where is your little coterie?" she asks as they both stand at the edge of a table laden with little cakes and other deserts. a quick glance is cast about the room in silent search of one of the three other heads oft found in consort with the one before her. merlin knows what else they will be doing if not speaking in what often sounds like code amongst each other.

[prongedwords]

Siblings, James had learned from both his time with Sirius and Lily, were complicated. They seemed like they'd induce a bloody headache with the frequency of the things they'd put the other through. It made James glad he'd never had any of his own and even gladder he got to build his own set of brothers, ones that didn't destroy belongings or rend hearts. It sounded bloody terrible. "Siblings sound difficult," he said, though his hands said [treacherous]. "Makes me glad I've not got any by blood of my own."

"Your father has a proper sense of humor," James declared with a chuckle. [Sounds like a bright man, able to warm a room], he added. The world needed more men like the type Lily's father seemed to be. The image of an upright, buttoned muggle in what was no-doubt an ill-fitting suit thinking someone who probably had a pickled face liked rock music was entirely too much for James and it sent him into other cascade of laughter at the idea. By the time it abated, there were tears in his eyes that he wiped away.

"I like muggle rock music too," he admitted with a light and easy air, despite admitting something that would make most purebloods wince. "Good bass to it. Easy to feel it. Nothing like Celestina Warbeck, thank Merlin. And there's nothing like bad hair to get a git to shut up," James added. [I'd know that best], he signed as a little joke to their shared history, hoping it wouldn't crash and burn.

"Merlin, alright," James surrendered, hands raised. "No compliments for Evans." At the comment on the size of his ego, James grinned and it was the kind of grin that promised trouble. [My head is perfectly sized. Perhaps yours is too small]? He grinned wider after that, hands moving faster. [Maybe, Evans, all that hair like a sunset has shrunk your mind and it's up to me with the glasses to have the better brain here].

At her question, James snorted. "Of course I'm going to the dance." [Wouldn't miss it for all the brooms in the bloody world, not something like this.] "I am very excited to meet the Americans," he added after a pause. "They better be decent people. Or," he added with a smirk, "have a damn good interpreter. Why do you ask?"

@themxgglebrn

♕ ‑― Lily nodded knowing that James meant well enough with his words. He hadn't met Petunia but she always felt like she needed to explain. To show others that Petunia never intended to be as cruel as she come across sometimes, but as the days passed, it was becoming harder and harder to come up with excuses for her sister. Even more so when she had Mary and Penelope to show Lily was it was truly like to have someone who would unwaveringly in her corner.

♕ ‑― His laughter pulled her back to the corridor they stood in and Lily's eyebrows quirked up in amusement. "My father had a good laugh about it for weeks until it finally fade way. Mr. Weick, my father's boss, is still determined that Petunia is nothing more than those troubled and rebellious kids who listen to nothing but rock music. He's warned her fiance, Vernon, about her, you know. Little does he know, I'm the one who enjoys that sort of music." She chuckled and simply shrugged. It was nice to talk a bit about her life back in the muggle world. It was a subject that she didn't have very often and while she realized James probably would never meet any of the people she was talking about, a part of her hoped that he would. Maybe someday. "It was a complete accident but I do tend to remind Tunia of it whenever we're about to have a disagreement. She clams up pretty quickly."

♕ ‑― The compliments kept coming and her cheeks were warm. Actually, every bit of her was warm in that moment and it was entirely his fault. "Stop," she softly begged. "I can take much more of you being nice to me, Potter. I'm just going to get a head almost as big as yours." She paused before she smirked matching the tone he used on her, "kidding, kidding."

♕ ‑― Lily crossed her arms in front of her and she started down their usual root making sure that no one was out where they shouldn't be. "Speaking of the dance," she said trying her best to sound normal, "you're going right?" // @prongedwords

[prongedwords]

"Gryffindor's shriveled balls, Moony!" The call came from several dozen feet in the air as James Potter, mounted and comfortable as he ever was on his broom, saw the quaffle he dropped nearly hit his friend. "What the bloody hell are you doing down there? Beyond giving me a fucking heart attack, you git!" Circling down to land beside his friend and raising a hand in apology to Amos for leaving practice, James held his broom in one hand and enveloped Remus in a hug with the other. "Merlin, mate, don't scare me like that. I'd never forgive myself if I was responsible for your quidditch injury," he declared, shaking Remus slightly before releasing him. "Why are you out here?"

Where: Near the Quidditch Pitch Who: Remus & Open (@noxstarters)

Winter was certainly approaching much more rapidly than Remus had anticipated. While it wasn't quite cold enough for the snow to stick to the ground yet, it was cold enough to make Remus put on his hat and gloves for the little stroll he decided to take around the grounds. It was his absolute favourite type of weather and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to enjoy it.

With the seasons changing came the holidays, and Remus was completely lost in thought as he considered what he should get his friends for Christmas. He'd hardly even noticed that he'd reached the quidditch pitch, and definitely didn't notice anybody out practicing. But a stray quaffle landing on the ground only inches in front of him made him realize that he'd nearly walked right into practice, and he jumped back slightly out of surprise. Almost losing his balance, Remus caught himself just before tumbling backward, and he glanced around, hoping no one was paying attention to him, and he'd be able to make it out of this without being embarrassed.

[prongedwords]

"Hey, Evans, it didn't need to be bad for it to suck," James defended, hands raised in a gesture of surrender, before lowering them a moment later. Something didn't need to be the worst thing ever experienced for it to have been unpleasant, as James had learned through many years of trial, error, and living with his foot firmly in his mouth when said trial and errors multiplied into something inescapable.

The image, though, of a dark-haired woman who probably looked nothing like her sister being stuck with bright green hair and a yellow dress so undoubtedly hideous it would rival Slughorn in lingerie, paired with a smug Lily Evans was so amusing James couldn't stop the bubblings of laughter if he wanted. They rose and burst out of him like three pops and James found himself doubled over at the image. "Oh Merlin, that's hilarious. She had it coming, of course, but the mere idea..." Devolving into more laughter, James propped himself against the wall once again to support himself until he managed to stop laughing, wiping a tear from his eye. "Oh fucking hell that's a great image Evans."

Smiling at the woman across from him with a kind of softness reserved for lazy Sunday mornings in spring, James declared "Oh no, I'd absolutely go blind. It was utterly brilliant and I simply wasn't prepared. But," he added with a smile of his own, "A patented Lily Evans potion would no doubt cure me of all ills. Even the non-blinded ones."

Looking down at the hand offered to him, James looked back to Lily with a grin warm enough to fry an egg on. "You're on," he declared. "A Lily Evans fairy godmother would no doubt be most girls' dream, so as long as you don't mind me putting the idiot boys through the occasional bit of plaster, we're on." He held his hands up again. "Kidding, kidding! I wouldn't ever do that, swear. The kids are in good hands tonight between us two. Though," he added hesitantly, "I imagine they're always in good hands with you?" Looking down for a moment before looking back up, James added "I mean, I just. You seem like you'd be good with them. Understanding. I'm sure a lot of the girls trust you."

♕ ‑― "It wasn't always so bad." Lily was so quick to defend Petunia even though several people have told her that Petunia never deserved it. But still, Petunia was still Lily's sister and the only one who can have that claim by blood. And deep down, Lily knew that Petunia loved her. It was just hard being related to someone who, like Lily, was extraordinary in a way that Petunia was never going to be. "Though there was one time, right before one of our father's big business dinners, before I was even told I was a witch, Petunia and I had gotten into a small disagreement because she didn't want to wear the matching dresses mum had gotten us. I was so mad because I just wanted to be just like her. Next thing I know her raven hair turned bright green. It clashed so badly with the yellow dress she wanted to wear that she had to wear that was selected for the both of us. It was certainly a fond memory for me."

♕ ‑― Lily blinked at his compliment and her hand went to cover her mouth as a shade of red settled among her freckles. "I'm certain you won't go blind," she said through soft giggles and quickly moved to rake her fingers through her curls to pull them briefly from her eyes. "Even if that happens, I'll come up with a potion to help you recover."

♕ ‑― Her nose wrinkled as she stepped up to where he was and clasped her hands behind her back. Lily was never a fan of a wager that she wasn't certain that she could win. James was partially right. The idea of a ball was stirring everyone in the castle into a frenzy. Then, add the fact that there were going to be more students from a completely different school. Chaos was going to fall onto the castle in no time. "Well, I can handle the girls if you take on the boys," she offered and held out her hand to make it an honest deal. "If anything, maybe I can fulfill by fairy godmother fantasies if I can find a solution for curling irons and shoes." // @prongedwords

[prongedwords]

James was sure his existence had been overtaken by a tomato, so bright red did his face turn at the smile Lily gave him. It was bloody embarrassing, is was it was and he looked away with a cough, completely convinced he was rivaling the Gryffindor robes for the color red in his face. It just wasn't fair, now was it? Someone that incredibly clever and smart, smiling like that? Especially when he was trying to be less of an arse about the whole thing? Impossible is what that was.

Looking back up, James hoped his face was less red and a bit more normal for the remainder of the conversation. "Merlin," he chuckled, "I'm bloody glad I don't have a sister then. Sounds difficult to say the least." That level of pettiness wasn't something James could really relate to, not when he and his chosen brothers learned to turn into animals for one of their own. It didn't track to James, who saw those he loved and those he called family as more important than air. Something in the back of his mind tickled that there was a story there, something from this Petunia that dimmed that incredible smile of Lily's, and he hated it on instinct. It was that kind of immediate decision his mind was good at. After all, anything that dimmed that smile wasn't worth his time.

Of course, the return of that smile, brighter and more brilliant than before was just as damaging to his mind and James, immediately knowing he was about to return to the land of tomatoes, covered his face in his hands. "Merlin, Evans, you've got stars for teeth. Turn the brightness down, will you? I'll go blind if I look at them for too long."

James couldn't stop the short bark of laughter that seemed like it was better suited to Padfoot than himself at the comment on the ball. "There's not a chance, Evans. I'm willing to put five galleons on the fact that the ball only made the skirt issue more of a concern because now they're worried about the curling iron and the shoes and all that rubbish. We're going to have our work cut out for us on this patrol, mark my words. I'm probably going to have to stop some bloke from clocking his mate across the face because they both want to ask the same girl."

♕ ‑― Unable to stop, Lily smiled up at him. It was wholly and completely annoying that she couldn't help but to be amused by his antics. It wasn't all that long ago when she would have described James as an insufferable toerag (a top insult she would have used as well), and now the only word that came to mind: adorable. She really needed to get herself together because at the end of the day patrols were supposed to be serious and not at all the enjoyment she found them to be as of late.

♕ ‑― "Trust me, Kathie and little Ottie have nothing on the fights that me and my sister would get into over our clothes. Petunia would much rather rip something to shreds than for me to have it fair and square." Her eyes darkened at the thought of her older sister who Lily was certain that she was glad that Lily wasn't coming home this year to be around for the celebrations. Not that Petunia would have extended an invitation to the engagement party that was happening over the break. Petunia would never have a freak around her new posh friends.

♕ ‑― Lily cleared her throat and placed on an even brighter smile replacing those sad thoughts with the task at hand. "We can only hope the yule ball excitement distracted them from the skirt problem."

@prongedwords

[prongedwords]

"Oh no," James laughed with all the certainty and assuredness of an only child, "you absolutely should strangle them still. They're your brothers, I'm positive they'd deserve it." James certainly would have, if he had a sister and not a plethora of found-family, pulled into his orbit through sheer willpower. Shrugging at her worries, James remarked "I thought it was the job of siblings to mutually annoy each other. Keeps the family scales in balance or something." They were both young enough still for any direction to seem an impossible one. James doubted his study focus nearly every day and having the confidence to declare something where one had previously been unsure was impressive in of itself.

Raising his hands in surrender at Molly's hissed threat, James nonetheless was unable to stop the grin. "What, I can't acknowledge potential future teammates?" Despite the comment, he did speak quieter than he normally would have. No point announcing something before it was official, after all. "It feels like flying," James responded, shit-eating smirk on his face. "No, I'm serious," he added quickly, hands raised in surrender. "It's knowing the world can fall away to nothing but a ball, the goalposts, and your athleticism. It's knowing you have full control over it all, even if a bludger comes hurtling at you. It's flying."

"If this announcement gets me shots then I won't strangle Gid and Fab later," Molly smiled as she took the goblet from James. "I don't know that they're right in just how big of a deal they've made it. It's embarrassing. That's supposed to be my job; I'm supposed to annoy them." She shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure where I'm going but I guess this is a step in the right direction, yeah?" She was proud of herself absolutely, but now she had a whole new track at Hogwarts. And of course James Potter knew another track she was on.

"Shut your face, James Potter," Molly said under her breath. "I don't want that getting out there. What if I try out and bomb it completely?" In all honesty, she did want to talk about her upcoming tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch team but not loudly. Molly whispered, "What does it feel like? Being a chaser?"

@prongedwords

[prongedwords]

Having propped himself against the wall as he waited for Lily, James gently knocked his head against the stone as if to clear it from any distractions. It was just a regular patrol, checking in on the younger kids and making sure they were going to be ok if they were staying over the holidays, making sure exams weren't going to drive them to coating the couches in itching powder like second-year Benny Tauris had done last year (James was still mad he had thought of that before James had). It was their job to make sure everyone knew Hogwarts was their home, regardless, and that was what James needed to focus on, not Lily Evans.

Even if it was Lily Evans, who had occupied a significant portion of his mind ever since he was eleven years old.

So distracted was he by attempting to not be distracted by Lily, he completely missed her arrival. "Evans," he exclaimed as he pushed off the wall. "Yes, hi. Sorry, was worried about that upcoming interschool Quidditch game." It was a lie. A bold one too, but one that he hoped rang true enough to distract from what had really been on his mind. James was trying to be better, after all. Less pushy. It wouldn't do to destroy that so soon. "I wasn't waiting long at all," he laughed with a wave as if it wasn't an issue at all. "I'm ready but if Kathryne didn't return Ottilia's skirt, I am absolutely leaving that fallout to you, full heads up. I'm absolute pants in dealing with things like that. Shall we?"

@themxgglebrn

tagged: @prongedwords where: hogwarts' corridor

♕ ‑― Her feet carried her back up to the castle as she made her way to report for her nightly duties as prefect. She tried her best to not to move too quickly all the while, at the same time she was still trying to make sure she was on time. Her need to be on time was slowly being outweighed by the nervousness that settled deep in the pit of her stomach. Her pride didn't want to admit it. There was so no way she was going to admit-- at least out loud-- that she was nervous to see him.

♕ ‑― Then, Lily saw him and once again, her stomach did a somersault and for what? James fucking Potter. She took a deep breath and smoothed her hands over the front of her jumper before she took another step forward. "I hope you weren't waiting long, Potter," she said and she lifted her chin to look up at him. "Ready for patrols?"

[prongedwords]

🔮

Send me a 🔮 and I’ll tell you where I think your muse will be in 20 years.

"Standing right next to me. Not much different from how it is today, I'd bet, we'll just be older and hopefully not much wiser. There's no pulling away a Potter from someone they like after all."

@thcfallenstar

[prongedwords]

a closed starter for @diggoryxamos where: the quidditch pitch

Winter was beginning to settle in around Hogwarts like a cold and unwelcome cloak. When it wasn't snowing, it was foggy, and when it wasn't foggy it was windy, blowing hard enough to cut you to the bone and freeze your fingers to a broomstick. Of course, Quidditch stopped for nothing, and James found himself on the pitch, broom in hand, looking up at a day so foggy it was like his glasses had a permanent fog to them.

"Amos, mate," he said as he turned his attention from the sky to the man next to him, "I know you're determined for us to win the cup this year but I think I'm more likely to hit the goalposts than get a quaffle in there. I'd rather play in a blizzard than this. Drills, mate? In this?" He flung out an arm to the sky. "Is it really that hard to get time on the pitch?"

[prongedwords]

12,15,20,22

12. how long does it typically take for your muse to fall asleep?

James uses up so much energy in the day-to-day that when it's time for sleep, it is time for sleep and the man is out in about five minutes flat. It takes a lot of energy to be James Potter, that and hair tonics, and sleep is a great way to refill his amounts of one of those.

15. how many hours of sleep does your muse typically get?

He tries to get a full eight but isn't really willing to get less than five. Of course, with the way the world is the actual number of hours tends to vary pretty wildly depending on pranks, school load, and, of course, the three brilliant fools he's shared a living space with since he was eleven. Of course, there's always a night or two a month where he's guaranteed to get very little sleep at all, so he likes to try to stockpile it in anticipation.

20. does your muse have any pre-bedtime rituals or routines (like facial care, meditation, shower, medications, etc)? do they have any pre-bedtime activities like reading, playing video games, going on their phone, etc?

James Potter is a man of means and partially-earned vanity. He has a five step routine for his hair alone in the evenings, one perfected over the years especially since his hair becomes completely unmanageable without it. He also really values feeling clean and will insist on a shower every evening as well, something Euphemia drilled into him. He usually likes to talk with his friends before he goes to sleep, making sure they're doing ok and that the day wasn't too terrible.

22. is your muse sensitive to light while they sleep, or do they not mind it?

James sleeps like the dead and barring absolutely disaster or breakfast he is not waking up before he is good and ready. No amount of sunlight or moonlight is going to be stopping that.

[prongedwords]

"Miss Prewett, shut up and take the bloody shot," James insisted, pushing the goblet that contained a small amount of Bigfoot Bourbon in it, freshly arrived from the States. "Seriously, well done. Your brothers were right to make a fuss on it. There's absolutely nothing wrong with a general credit, I mean one of my best mates is getting one, but there's something to be said for knowing what you're best at. It helps when you don't know what else you're doing."

Leaning in a bit closer, he fixed Molly with a grin. "But who gives a shite about academics. Is it true I heard you're considering Quidditch? As a chaser?"

where: great hall end of dinner. who: open; @noxstarters.

It's not that it took Molly that much longer than others to finally pick her area of study, but she hadn't wanted to pick something willy nilly just so she could say she was studying something. Not that there was anything wrong with universal studies in the long run. She thought she would. But through those classes she discovered her love of charms and how skilled she was. It was a pleasant surprise.

At dinner Molly told her brothers before anyone else. The two immediately made it a huge deal. They made sure everyone knew their little sister had decided on an area of study and was going to be a "charm master." Molly liked attention but they were ridiculous and she had to hide her face. People were excited for her but she was flustered.

"Thank you," she responded to a young Gryffindor. When she turned around she was surprised to see someone sitting close on the other side of her. "Oh. Hi there. You don't have to..."

[prongedwords]

"I thought you were paying for the pose by having to be in that pose at all, Wormtail," James laughed, the sound lighter and easier now that it was clear there wasn't any lasting damage to his friend. He worried, of course, though he tried to mask it under jokes and the iron-clad belief that his friends could look after themselves. "Oh Merlin, you've jinxed us," James groaned. "Anytime anyone mentions rain in relation to Quidditch, it always fucking rains! Every bloody time, mate, and I know we live in Scotland but it happens every time, and you've gone and cursed me to a wet arse running Amos' bloody drills." James sighed, lowering his hands from where he'd found them over his head.

"My pretty face is working as brilliantly as ever, and you know it," James said with a tone full of a fake threat that was betrayed by the grin across his face. "Leave my dry spell out of this, I know full well my face remains perfect." He checked it often enough in the reflections of armor and the lavatory's mirrors to be confident in saying that.

Frowning at the pride comment, James swallowed that natural block he had to discussing feelings and shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "Look, mate, your pride's the only thing I've not been able to beat into submission into matching how brilliant you are as a person, so tell it to fuck off, eh? You're fine, the camera's going to be fine with just a reparo, and I don't tell my secrets to any old bloke. Nope, only Peter Pettigrew will do. First secret? My mates are the best in the world, and that includes you, Wormy."

@offtotheratraces

Peter groaned, a slight laugh escaping in the process. Using his two hands to push himself back up into a sitting position. "Seems like i'm paying for the pose now, mate." Getting himself back to his feet in one final push. "I might be able to make it through one of those drills after that." He teased, "especially if it's raining, the rain does make those drills really fucking miserable" A grin

"I'm alright - my pretty face is still in tact. Can't say the same about yours, Prongs." A joke, of course. "My pride is a bit bruised, but I can't remember a time when it wasn't."

[prongedwords]

"Merlin, mate, shut up," James groaned as he rolled over in his bed. The man had slept in those despicably tight Muggle-style jeans as when he'd tried to get them off last night, a combination of alcohol and exhaustion sending his coordination to absolute shite. The less said about what he believed was a drunken and exhausted attempt to remove too-tight denim the better and as the light of day began to hit his eyes and send a blade straight through them into his head as that headache roared to life, James half-fancied he could feel the forming of the bruises his attempted dejeaning had caused.

That groan he had made was the groan of pain and frustration at the sudden arrival of consequences from the last evening and as James began to wake up more and more, the feeling of overwhelming regret for his past self's inability to know when to stop became more and more clear. "No I'm not alive, I'm currently turning into a mushroom patch over here," James groaned as he turned over into his pillow, determined to make a valiant effort in smothering himself with it. He was glad that he was at least waking up in his own bed and not someone else's, though he was certainly regretting waking up at all. "Merlin's balls Sirius, what was in those drinks?"

Where: Marauders Dormitory When: The morning after the Halloween party Who: @prongedwords

Sirius’ head was pounding as squinted awake still feeling disorientated from the night before. He hadn’t remembered to drink enough water, he never did, he always said he would but water seemed so much harder to find than more drinks. He ran a hand through his hair noticing it was still long, sliding the hand down to the ears that were still pointed in an elven fashion. He had passed out before he had taken off any of the charms, a smart idea as drunken magic wasn’t a good idea, but neither was hungover magic. He wondered if he would just have to spend the day with silver hair and elf ears. It could be worse, but he was sure to get some strange looks unless he found someone sober on the way who could perform magic without risking something disastrous happening. 

He blinked several times trying to adjust his eyes to the light but his head still feel foggy, a headache starting to form as he looked around. Hearing a groan from one of the other beds he tried to locate the source wondering which of his friends was somewhat conscious, showing some signs of life. “Anyone alive over there?” he questioned as he slowly sat up. Even the slowness of the motion didn’t stop the slight vertigo and he closed his eyes for another moment as he adjusted to his new position. It didn’t really seem to help as he opened them once more reaching for the glass at his nightstand and taking a long drink of the water.

[prongedwords]

✉️

✉️ a friendly letter

Alex!

Merlin, mate, it's been a minute since we've talked. So long I'm over here writing you a letter instead of finding you in the corridors since this is the only way I know one of us won't get so busy the conversation never happens. Seems like that's always happening these days, one thing pulling me in one direction and another the completely opposite way. Makes spending time with my mates difficult, and I didn't want anyone to think I was avoiding them.

That includes you. Hence the letter.

I've got to tell you that transfiguration this year is kicking my arse up and down the quidditch pitch like its the final game of the season and we're tied with half the bloody team in the hospital wing. I know I'm good at the subject but I'm not feeling it right now. I'll get it though.

Sorry, didn't mean to be morose. It isn't much fun opening a letter only to get a wave of feelings emerging. The point is, mate, we gotta grab a butterbeer this weekend. I'm not even joking, we're going to sit down in the Three Broomsticks and not move for at least an hour, even if the world implodes on itself. I'm not going to move.

Be there or be square,

James

@alexdiggory

[prongedwords]

🏖️ (for penn)

@hortusdea