#Sneep is a plonker

[blitheringmcgonagall]

A mix of 31 prompts and microfic prompts…

@jilytoberfest

Prompts 1 & 2

Prompt #3: fire and #4: “I know, but I wanted to”

Sirius Black heaved an irritated sigh.

“For Merlin’s sake, I’m surrounded by incompetent fools!” he muttered to himself.

“Ha! If you think you can undo Prongs’ idiocy when it comes to anything remotely related to Lily Evans - good luck with that!” Peter snorted, downing a contraband lurid cocktail that Mary had concocted. It was supposed to look like a mint milkshake - it reminded Sirius of swamp water - vague rotten egg smell and pond scum colour. It was wonderfully lethal.

“I swear to Circe, if they haven’t gotten their shit together by May, I shall be forced to stage an intervention!” Sirius said, folding his arms.

“Oh? And what kind of intervention would that be?” Remus asked, leaning into him and giving his shoulder a gentle push.

Remus was a bit drunk and much more generous than usual with physical affection, which Sirius deeply appreciated.

“A successful one,” he said in a lofty tone, resting his head against Remus’ own.

“Can’t wait,” Remus hummed.

***

James sat slumped in his seat, hand holding up his head, watching the dancing couples, eyes following a particular fellow Gryffindor - vivid green eyes, cheeky grin, cobalt blue dress twirling.

“She’s never going to go out with you.”

He turned his head slowly.

“Snivellus,” he sighed deeply. “What can I do for you?”

“There’s no point sitting there staring at her like a creep! She hates you.”

He hesitated. Had he actually been staring at her like some weirdo?

Looking up he saw Sirius reaching for his wand, Remus glaring at Snape and Peter’s eyes twitching nervously towards the professors’ table. The problem with friends who happened to have Furry Little Problems or furry alternative selves was that their hearing was too sharp. Minerva McGonagall was looking over at him too, wearing a sour expression, although she couldn’t possibly have heard the conversation?

“Apologies to Evans if I was making her uncomfortable,” he said.

“You don’t care how she feels, you just want to force her to go out with you, you disgust me! You disgust her!”

Sirius Black was on his feet and Remus Lupin had his wand out and McGonagall’s lips were a stern line as she dropped her napkin (was anyone else able to convey such disappointment and authority in such a tiny gesture?)

“For fuck’s sake, shut- “ he growled, feeling his shoulders tense, fingers finding his wand. In another lifetime, say this time last year, he’d have hexed Snape already.

Just then he caught Lily’s eye. She was looking at the with concern, her smile gone and replaced by drawn brows and pursed lips. Poor Evans, imagine having to deal with two stupid, selfish wankers like them…

He breathed out slowly, forcing his shoulders down and placing his hands in the air, a placating gesture.

“Look, Snape, you’re probably right - I’d say I do disgust her. I have no intention of asking her out, alright?”

One side of Snape’s top lip lifted in disgust, but he clearly wasn’t expecting that answer and couldn’t find anything to say. He stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“Can i interest you in a snack? Beetroot crisps? Twice fried chips?” he said.

Snape glared at him suspiciously.

“A glass of butterbeer?”

The thin boy squinted at him. James smiled, all laid back innocence.

“Wondering why I’m offering? I know, but I wanted to.”

“Fuck you, Potter!” he spat out, turning around and marching off in the direction of the Slytherin tables.

“Prick,” James said to himself, knocking back an entire glass of firewhisky.

“Alright Mr Potter?”

McGonagall was looking at him with an unreadable expression. It was difficult to answer when his eyes were watering from the strong alcohol.

“Right as rain. Fit as a charmed fiddle,” he coughed.

“Water, was it?” She asked, sniffing in the direction of the empty bottle.

“Something like that… a liquid, anyhow,” he said, with a sheepish grin as he ruffled his hair.

***

“Oh gods,” groaned Remus, face palming. “I can’t listen to this, it’s too painful.”

“Prongs is a useless liar when he’s drunk,” Peter noted helpfully.

“He’s an out and out idiot at the best of times,” Sirius said, wisely downing the remainder of his drink.

“Bit harsh, Padfoot,” Remus sounded amused.

“No, that’s it. I’ve told him time and time again. I’m not idly standing by while he makes a balls of everything. Tonight takes the biscuit.”

They watched as James moved towards McGonagall, who was muttering under her breath in response to his ineptitude.

“Care to dance, Professor?” they heard Prongs say.

“Smooth,” Peter said.

“Foolish,” Remus said.

McGonagall’s left eyebrow raised. Prongs swayed.

“Perhaps another time, Mr Potter,” she said, not unkindly, patting his shoulder in what could only be described as a consoling manner.

“Right. Another time. When I’m less drunk.”

“Precisely, next year’s Hallowe’en Ball, perhaps.”

James’ mouth gaped.

“Right. Spiffing. Merlin!”

“Holy shit!” Peter squealed.

Sirius was inclined to agree with him.

***

On the first of May, Sirius Black walked into Dumbledore’s office, unannounced.

“Professor, we have a problem,” he said, without preamble, sitting himself down opposite the headmaster’s desk and placing his right foot on his left thigh.

“Good evening, er, Mr Black. How kind of you to call in for a… chat. A problem, you say? May I be of assistance?” Dumbledore asked, periwinkle eyes curious as he reached over for the sweets. “Lemon sherbet?”

Sirius Black shook his head.

“A problem. Of the very irritating, long-standing variety. And I know how to fix it!”