Takes place at the beginning of their fifth year. Warning: a bit of bullying. Read A/N at end to understand.
Being nicknamed "Leftovers" wasn't funny.
Kingsley supposed that Sirius thought he was being funny, what with all the laughter that accompanied his naming ceremony, but it really wasn't funny at all. His other four roommates all had creative, clever nicknames to address each other by—which they did frequently—and he dared be foolish enough to ask them a question about it.
He regretted it immediately. If anything ever involved the four of them, he almost always regretted it.
"Why do we have our nicknames?" echoed Peter, a devilish grin making its way on to his face. "Well, isn't that an interesting question. Don't you think that's an interesting question, Prongs?"
"Why yes, I believe it is an interesting question, Wormtail," James replied, a smirk on his face. "Moony, how do you think we should handle this interesting question?"
Kingsley wished they would stop using the word "interesting"; nothing good ever came out of interesting.
"Well, we ought to tell him, Prongs" said Remus calmly. "Do you agree Padfoot?"
Sirius's smirk mirror James's; Kingsley wondered if the Devil looked the same way when he spoke to his demons. "I agree so much, Moony," said Sirius,"that I'll go first."
"You know what," Kingsley said hurriedly, "it's not that important. You don't have to say—"
"I secretly have a foot fettish," announced Sirius in a loud, clear voice. "I love licking the bottoms of feet. Both on animals and people," he added. "Therefore, the name 'Padfoot' was born."
Kingsley knew it was complete bullshit. He also knew that he lucked out—instead of playing some horrible prank or embarrassing him, his roommates were just trying to freak him out with silly stories of how they were supposedly lunatics. Actually, he thought, this could prove to be quite amusing for him. So he let them continue.
"I secretly fantasize about stabbing people with forks," James told him, eagerly. "Every time I hold a fork in my hand, my blood starts pumping and rushes to my head. Especially when I hold a fork and look at those bloody pricks at the Slytherin table." He mimed strangling himself. "Anyway, forks have 'Prongs', so..."
"Thus you were dubbed," finished Kingsley, enjoying himself. "Terrifying."
"Very."
"I secretly eat the tails of rats for every meal," Peter piped up, giggling. "I transfigure them to look like the same food you lot eat and dig in. Sometimes," he added, thinking, "I replace your food with it!"
Kingsley made a face and pretended to be horrified. Peter, who always wore his heart on his sleeve, beamed back at him.
"Well, then," said Kingsley, "that leaves only you, Remus."
"Moony," Remus corrected calmly. He alone still wore a straight face. "I received my nickname because I secretly have an obsession of walking around completely naked everywhere except Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. I have pictures, if you want to see them. And warrants for my arrest. Apparently the Muggle police aren't particularly fond of that. Neither is Professor McGonagall, by the way. She's the reason I wear clothes at Hogwarts and in Hogsmeade. Otherwise..." Remus made a whistling sound. "I'd feel that lovely breeze everywhere."
Kingsley couldn't help himself; he burst into laughter. The others joined him and this lasted for a good five minutes. When they finally quieted, Peter asked, "Why'd you want to know anyway?"
Kingsley shrugged. "No reason," he lied.
Remus raised an eyebrow, which James quickly noticed and deduced the reason for it. "You want a nickname too, don't you, Shacklebot?" he said, grinning. "We can give you one."
Kingsley straightened up, curious. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but he really did want a nickname from them. After all, they were the cleverest and most popular students in the school. Getting a nickname from them either meant you were a part of the group—or a victim of their amusement.
"I've got it," declared Sirius. He cleared his throat importantly. "Kingsley Shacklebot," he said, "From this day forth, you shall be known as 'Leftovers'."
Kingsley cocked his head to one side. "Leftovers," he repeated. "Why?"
Sirius smirked again, the same devil smirk from before. "Because you are secretly unimportant and tossed away from the actual product," he informed him.
Four of the boys joined each other in a loud, hearty chorus of laughter. But the fifth boy...he quietly escaped to the bathroom, shame rolling around in his stomach.
He should've known better. If anything ever involved the four of them, he almost always regretted it.
A/N: I may expand on this and here's why:
I think the Marauders were thoughtlessly cruel. I don't think James or Sirius thought about how what they said or did would hurt others; they just wanted to amuse themselves. (And they felt a bti bad when they realized how much they had hurt others). Peter caught on quicker, but sometimes he wouldn't realize what he'd done. 99% of the time Remus knew (which is why he usually didn't participate in particularly cruel jokes). However, Rowling herself has said that Remus's fatal flaw is how badly he wants to be liked by people. Therefore, Remus would sometimes/often go along with his friends' meaner jokes in order to be included in the group.
I may expand it to a conversation between Remus and Kingsley later on. Or I may not (I want to eventually do a chaptered fic about this era).
I'll probably do other one-shots or two-shots in the meantime.
Oh, and (jeez this is a long A/N), I don't think Kingsley was friendless or bullied or whatever. I just think he felt left out sometimes. I mean, think of being roommates with the coolest kids in school and being the only not in the group. You'd feel a little bummed out around them. But as I write more and eventually get to the chaptered fic, you'll understand more about my teenage Kingsley Shacklebot.
Review!