A/N- This wackadoo idea came to me while I was lying awake in my bed at the wee hour of 2 o'clock A.M. I was listening to my iPod, and my lovely hippie friends came on.
Thus, this story was born. It's not meant to insult, only for fun. I love Hair and Harry Potter, so why not put them together?
Warning- At the end, the use of a 'bad word'.
Also, for once again using poor Sirius as the subject of my urges to write crazy song parodies...
Hair songs used (2009 Broadway) - Hair, and briefly another song which is the aforementioned 'bad word'. We are talking about the hippie era, you know.
Hair, Hair, Hair
Sirius Black was horridly bored. Even food, his one true love, could not assuage the tedium. A melodramatic gust of air escaped his lungs, as he awaited the predictable, "What's the matter, Padfoot?"
"Oi! Stop sighing over your food and eat it!" was the rather harsh statement. "Your untouched meal won't stay there forever."
"And why is that?" Sirius snapped, pouting at his best-mate, James Potter.
"Because I am going to take your food in two bloody seconds if you don't start eating," retorted the almighty Quidditch captain, drumming his long fingers in blatant agitation. "You've been sighing and staring at your food for over twenty minutes."
"What's the matter, Padfoot?" Ah, there it was. Genuine concern tainted the pale face of, who would have guessed, Remus Lupin. "Are you feeling ill?"
"I am inflicted with the horrible disease of boredom," whined Sirius, as he slammed his fork into a wad of mashed potatoes.
"Eating is fun!" said James, with the curious air of one whom was speaking to a small child. "See!" He stuffed a forkful of peas into his open mouth.
"Girl problems?" added a squeak from…oh, who was it? Peter! That's right.
An invisible light from the heavens appeared to grace the morbid countenance of the young aristocrat. In a neat, and decidedly graceful, flourish, Sirius's feet were planted on the Gryffindor table. "She asks me why," he burst into soft song, "I'm just a hairy guy."
James's face twisted into muffled amusement, as a gulp of pumpkin juice threatened to escaped his tightly clamped lips. Peter was clapping, and Remus wondered for the millionth time why he was friends with these people.
"I'm hairy noon and night. Hair that's a fright," Sirius continued, running a hand through his long ebony locks. "I'm hairy high and low." He gestured to his lower region, as a furious blush graced the bridge of Remus's nose.
"Sirius, get down. Now."
"Don't ask me why; don't know!"
Another voice joined Sirius's outburst. The growing audience swerved their attention to the Slytherin table, where Severus Snape stood proudly above his dinner.
"It's not for lack of bread, like the Grateful Dead, darling," a mischievous grin crossed Sirius's face as the hushed tune commenced.
The Marauders watched with a comical mixture of fright and amusement, as their friend pranced down the Gryffindor table.
"Gimme a head with hair. Long, beautiful hair. Shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen," Sirius and Snape sang loudly, as the whole student body began to watch the exchange. "Give me down to there, hair! Shoulder length, longer! Here baby—" here Snape and Sirius ruffled their hands through their long tendrils "—there mama, everywhere, daddy, daddy!"
Sirius surrendered himself to the feel of the nonexistent music, opening his arms as, "Hair, hair, hair, hair," reverberated off of the goblets. He pointed a dramatic finger in the direction of his enemy-turned-duet-partner. "Flow, show it, long as God can grow it, my hair!"
Students were delighted with the odd display. First and Second years created a beat with their plates, empty or full. James had turned a plum shade of purple due to the lung-clenching laughter. Remus wished for the floor to swallow him whole. And Peter, on the other hand, was joining the First and Second years.
The Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, appeared comfortably entertained, and forbade the other professors of ceasing the little show.
"Let it fly in the breeze, and get caught in the trees. Give a home to the fleas in my hair," Sirius and Snape sang to each other, ruining random student's hair as they ran past. The two met sloppily upon the Hufflepuff table, which was basically in the center. "A home for fleas, a hive for bees, a nest for birds. There ain't no words for the beauty, the splendor, the wonder of my…"
The entire Great Hall erupted in the chorus of the word 'Hair', most chanting it with much gusto. Sirius, to please the raving fan girls, tossed his hair away from his forehead. Snape bobbed his head back and forth, the greasy strands clinging together.
Sirius tangled his fingers into his hair. "I want it long, straight, curly, fuzzy, snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty—"
"Oily, greasy, fleecy, shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen waxen," Snape concluded, and he actually laughed as Sirius ruffled a playful hand into his greasy locks.
The boys persisted, "Knotted, polka-dotted, twisted, beaded, braided. Powdered, flowered, and confettied. Bangled tangled, spangled and spaghettied!" At this the two dropped to their knees, rocking their heads in a wild fashion. In an instant, Sirius and Snape were stiffly upon their feet, two fingers pressed to their brows, as they adopted a rather stern expression. "O-oh, say can you see; my eyes if you can, then my hair's too short!"
Sirius slapped his knees. "Down to here!"
"Down to there!" Snape pointed to the tips of his shoe-clad toes.
"I want hair! Down to where? It stops by itself!" Snape and Sirius linked arms as they danced around each other. "Doo doo doo doo doot-doot doo doo doot!"
"They'll be ga-ga at the go-go when they see me in my toga." Sirius pointed a fist to the ceiling, as the girls squealed over the masculine pose. "My toga made of black, brilliantined, biblical hair! My hair like Jesus wore it. Hallelujah I adore it! Hallelujah, Mary loved her son." Sirius and Snape faced one another, jumping wildly. "Why don't my mother love me?" The moment Snape raised his arms to the sky, the room once again filled with loud shouts of 'Hair'!
"Sirius. Sirius? SIRIUS!" A distant echo commanded from above.
"My mother doesn't…doesn't love my hair."
"Sirius, mate! Wake up!" Rough hands clasped at his shoulders and shook hard.
"Hair!" Sirius exclaimed, shooting straight up in his bed, clanging James on the forehead.
"Watch it, you tosspot!" James shouted, dejectedly rubbing his sore brow. "What have you been babbling about for the past twenty minutes?" James gave extra emphasis on the time.
"I was…I was singing Hair on the House tables in the Great Hall," Sirius mumbled. "It was so real. Snape…Snivellus!" He gasped. "Snivellus was singing with me!"
"What's Hair?" James crinkled his nose at the unknown title.
"Hair is a musical," came the exhausted yawn of Remus. "It is the product of the hippie culture, and sexual revolution of the 1960's." He sighed at James's cocked eyebrow. "It's a Muggle play."
"You seriously need to lay off falling asleep on your homework. Maybe the ink is getting to your head." James gently shoved Sirius's dream-clouded head.
Remus shook his head at the sheer audacity. "Go back to sleep, you two. Stop making a fuss over sleep-talking."
The three boys fell back into the comfortable state of half-conscious.
"Sodomy," a husky, sleep-constricted voice sang. "Just kidding." Remus fell into a state of hysterical laughter, as he could practically hear the shock from Sirius and James.
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Do ignore my less-than-good writing skills in this story =P It's meant to be funny, not pretty.