Written for Transfiguration at Uni's Hogwarts challenge using the prompts bloody hell, humor, and scarlet.
Words: 580
Enjoy!
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Upon returning to consciousness, James takes note of several things.
With dust motes making themselves seen in the irregular shafts of pale yellow light flitting in through the curtains, the air feels warm and strangely comforting. Fleetingly he compares it to the atmosphere of the Potter-Weasley gathering place at Christmastime. With a lingering scent of cinnamon and mint, along with something distinctly male that he attributes to the lack of having taken a bath recently, it surely feels like it. Strewn across the bed and falling over the side are scarlet bed covers edged with gold along with wrinkled, frosty white sheets. Several pillows clad in golden cases sit almost dejectedly on the hardwood.
Exhaustion fills him down to the bone. The feeling is almost as if a weight bears down on his lungs and molten lead has replaced the blood pulsing through his veins. A violent ache pounds at his skull, pain shooting through his brain and making his eyes sore. His usually pristine vision is clouded with fuzziness, similar to the memories he attempts to recall from the night before.
What did I do last night, he wondered. The thought weighed heavily in his mind, an answer impossible to locate. Though he had theories, most involving a certain meddlesome cousin of his and a bowl of defenseless punch, none of them seemed conclusive.
At that moment, a shift of weight on the bed occurs. His heart slows to a thundering beat. The person, evidently athletically built to cause such a stir, moves for only a few seconds before stopping. Then, just as James contemplates screaming, an arm drapes itself across his chest. A hairy arm.
The lungful of air he hadn't realized he had been holding released itself in a scream. High-pitched and loud as the battle cry of Merlin himself, it startles the young man quite successfully. With not an ounce of grace does he tumble off the bed onto the floor. Several dull thuds come from the spot.
Then, a multitude of things happen at once.
The young man swiftly regains a few smidgens of his senses. As he stands up and steadies himself, a desperate expression appears on his thin face. One hand raises to his defense while the other utilizes the sheets to cover the horrifying fact of his complete and utter nudity. Nothing is left to the imagination. At the same time his mouth opens to say something, a harsh creak sounds. Then a loud, sharp crack, indicating the definite occurrence of something metallic having made impact with a hard surface.
Above all in importance, a loud exclamation said in his voice comes from the door. "James Sirius Potter what have you done to me!"
As James discovers when he turns his head to the open door, it's him. Half-naked and terribly disheveled, but him. Except, he is on the bed on the far side of the room, so that can't possibly be right. How could he be on one side of the room and the other; at two places simultaneously? Encouraged by the sheer complexity of what is occurring, the pounding in his head grows ever fiercer. He tries desperately to make some smidgen of sense out of the puzzling situation that stands before him. If he is on the bed, clutching at the soft bedsheets, but he is also in the threshold of the dormitory, looking murderous, that means...
"What in the bloody hell am I doing in Roxanne's body?"