A/N

Hey all, I'm participating in The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition this season as Beater 1 for the Wimbourne Wasps. So excited! (I'll still be updating Dark Wizards, though, dw.) This one is written for the Quidditch League, so if you don't already follow the league, jump over to the forums and check it out.

Written for Padfoot76's OTP, Jily. Hope you like it :)

Prompts:

1.(dialogue) "You have about as much charm as a flobberworm."
2.(word) beginning
6.(word) luscious

"Why are we waiting here again?" Wormtail asked, looking around nervously as though the dungeon walls were going to leap out and strangle him.

"Because Prongs's painfully unrequited love is about to walk past," Padfoot drawled, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the desk.

They were sitting in a seldom used classroom near the Slytherin common room, and it was making Wormtail visibly queasy.

"Yes, but why here?" Wormtail whined. "We can see Evans wherever she goes. Why can't we wait for her somewhere else?"

"Because if we wait for her here," Padfoot said with a grin. "We get to play with the slimeball while Prongs gets humiliated. Again."

"Hey," Prongs said, throwing an abandoned inkpot at Padfoot. "I will not be humiliated. I have a plan."

Padfoot lazily flicked his wand, sending the inkpot smashing into the blackboard at the front of the room. Ink flew everywhere.

"A plan, hey, Prongs?" Padfoot said. "I haven't heard that one before. What's your plan today? I hope it's as good as last time. I particularly liked that one. What did the letter say again? Lily, your luscious locks-"

Prongs whipped out his wand in a flash and transfigured Padfoot's chair into a teapot, sending him crashing to the ground. Padfoot burst out laughing.

Moony looked up in alarm at the sound of porcelain smashing, but when he saw Padfoot lying on the ground, tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks, he merely sighed and turned back to his book. Padfoot's laughter eventually slowed, and he wiped his eyes and sat up.

Prongs sniffed indignantly. "It was a good poem, and I was going for humor. Evans loved it. But I'm going to charm her properly this time."

At this, Padfoot immediately started howling with laughter again. "Charm her? You have about as much charm as a flobberworm!"

Prongs leaped to his feet and launched himself at Padfoot, his grin the only thing distinguishing the act from one of pure aggression.

Moony put down his book with another sigh, unable to concentrate with the noise in the room. He leaned over Wormtail's shoulder to look at the Marauder's map.

"Had any luck yet?" he asked.

Wormtail shook his head. "It just keeps insulting me," he said miserably.

Padfoot snorted while Moony looked thoughtful. "Yes, we probably were a little too liberal on that part," he said slowly. "Have you tried insulting it back? It might respect you enough to listen, then."

Wormtail looked dubious, but raised his wand anyway. "Listen to me, you-" he paused. "I don't know what to call it," he whispered to the others.

"Call it a trumped up little oil rag," Padfoot suggested, waving his wand and shooting sparks at the map they had all created. "If that doesn't offend a map, I don't know what will."

"You trumped up little oil rag," Wormtail finished apologetically.

Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, the elegant script read as it spread across the parchment, would like to extend their sincerest thanks that such an esteemed student as yourself has deigned to converse with a lowly trumped up little oil rag. They further extend the suggestion that there may be other inanimate objects in need of your friendship, and are able to offer a quiet commendation for the dish cloth tucked behind the Hogwarts kitchen sink.

"I AM WORMTAIL!" Wormtail yelled at the parchment, while Padfoot looked quietly impressed at the map's snark.

"I'd say it's pretty close to emulating our personalities already," Padfoot said to Moony.

Moony sighed. "I don't know. We want it to be as good as the portraits."

Prongs shrugged. "We're the only ones talking to it. Why does it matter?"

Moony looked sheepish. "I thought we could give it to our children. Or, not give it, but leave it for them to find."

Padfoot laughed and applauded, while Prongs looked shocked. "Moony!" Prongs said in mock horror, grinning. "You're leading our children astray already."

Moony smiled. "Not really. Think about it. They're never going to listen to any advice we give them, but if Messers Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are watching over them, insulting anyone they dislike, they're sure to listen to them. It will be almost like we're here, helping them grow, even though we're all the way at home."

Prongs and Padfoot looked taken aback.

"Our children," Prongs said slowly. "Running around with our map."

Both Prongs and Padfoot looked torn between proud and alarmed.

"Yes," Moony said with a faint smile. "So we want to make sure they're a little bit more well behaved than we are."

Padfoot seemed to be fighting an inner battle. He gave up. "Well, that's what we have you for, isn't it, Moony?" He said with a grin.

Moony frowned and turned back to the map. "Not if I'm just insulting everyone."

Prongs laughed. "Ask the map for advice, Wormy," he said to Wormtail.

"Like what?" Wormtail asked.

"Anything. Ask it what's under the Whomping Willow."

Wormtail waved his wand and tapped the map. "What's under the Whomping Willow?"

Messer Padfoot kindly suggests that wouldn't you like to know?

Messers Moony, Wormtail and Prongs advise caution during the full moon, and Messer Moony adds that if you insist on curiosity, he recommends taking the one-eyed witch into Hogsmead and flying to the second floor sitting room window of the Shrieking Shack for a decent view.

Three sets of eyes stared at Moony in shock.

"You'd rather be caught than hurt someone, Moony," Padfoot said, his voice sober.

"Of course," Moony said lightly, refusing to look at any of them. "Well, there you are, the map is safe to pass onto our children."

"Children," Wormtail said thoughtfully, as if he had never considered the idea. "That could be nice."

Padfoot suddenly smirked and nudged Prongs. "Bet it would be real nice with Evans," he said, before Prongs launched himself on Padfoot once again.

"Guys, she's here," Wormtail said, looking up from the map and pitching his voice high to be heard over the sound of Padfoot and Prongs wrestling.

Prongs jumped up immediately and began straightening his hair. This was it. This time he was going to prove to Evans that he was so much better than that slimeball.

"Don't bother," Padfoot said, standing up and running his hand through his own hair, returning it immediately to its usual rakishly disheveled look. "It looks the same anyway."

Prongs shot Padfoot a final glare before opening the door and stepping into the corridor.

"Evans!" he said, affecting an air of surprise. "What are you doing down here?"

"Off to see old Hook-nose?" Padfoot asked, stepping out and leaning casually against the doorway.

Prongs watched in surprise as Evans's expression changed from amused exasperation at his appearance, to sadness and anger at Padfoot's comment. He had never noticed that before.

"I'm going to see Severus," she said calmly, looking at Prongs and ignoring Padfoot. "And you're in my way," she moved to step around him.

"Whoa!" Prongs said, holding up his hands to stop her. "Hang on, Evans. He didn't mean anything by it."

"No," Evans said sharply. "But it hurts just the same," she moved around him again.

"Lily?" a slow drawl asked from behind Prongs. "What are these morons doing to you?"

Prongs mentally swore and turned to face Snape, ignoring the malicious gleam in Padfoot's eye. When his eyes met Snape's, he saw the usual sneer and felt his anger rising, until he suddenly noticed that Snape looked paler than usual. Snape's eyes flicked to Padfoot before coming back to Prongs. Snape straightened himself slightly in resolve.

Snape was afraid. Prongs had never noticed that either.

"Fancy a game, Hook-nose?" Padfoot asked, stepping forward with his wand raised.

Evans opened her mouth to say something, and it hit Prongs suddenly that this was a topic on which they could never agree. She would always see the good in the slimy git in front of him, and he would never be able to accept someone so weak and obsessed with the dark arts. Even if Evans agreed to go on a date with him, she would still want to be friends with Snape.

But then, wasn't she worth it anyway? If winning her heart meant accepting that Snape would always be her friend, surely it was a price he could willingly pay.

Prongs took a deep breath and held his hand out in front of Padfoot.

Padfoot blinked at him in surprise. Evans paused.

"Bored already, Potter?" Snape spat with a sneer, the relief evident on his face. "Off to terrorise someone else?"

Prongs snorted. The git hadn't even noticed what had changed. Probably never would. That didn't matter. Prongs could never be friends with him, but if he mattered to Evans, then it was worth the effort to be nice.

Or at least to politely ignore him.

"Let's go," Prongs said, Padfoot still glaring at him.

Padfoot paused before turning and striding away in a huff. Prongs sighed. Padfoot was going to take some convincing.

"Later, Evans," he said, barely looking at her as he turned to catch up with Padfoot.

Then he stopped. Evans was smiling at him. It was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. He felt his heart give a small stutter, and from the expression on her face he could swear hers did too.

"Bye, Potter," she said, still smiling.

He paused for a second before turning and running after Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail.

"So, you're going to suck up to Git-face, are you?" Padfoot snarled at him when he caught up.

Prongs shook his head slowly. "No, but hear me out. Evans doesn't like you, Pads, but she's still nice to you. If she was ever cruel to you, I don't think I'd want to love her either, no matter how beautiful and smart she was."

Padfoot stared at him in horror. Then he threw his head back and groaned. "This is the real thing, isn't it?"

Prongs grinned. "Well," he said diplomatically. "At least the beginning."