Disclaimer: All of the characters mentioned are, of course, the property of the lovely Ms. J. K. Rowling
That Green Eyed Monster
Sirius Black couldn't believe it. He was jealous of James. Jealous, of James Potter. How bloody dire. Of all the four eyed, ridiculously haired, stupidly arrogant prats he knew, he had to go and be jealous of Prongs.
God help him, he was losing it. He was clearly desperate. Maybe it was some sort of cry for help and what he really needed was a long lie down on some psychiatrist's sofa.
Ah Sirius. You've gone mad. Bonkers. Totally insane. You want a couch? What sort of ponce are you?
Sirius groaned, and buried his head in his gloved hands. The electric fire had packed in a few weeks ago and due to his landlord being a bloody curious bugger he couldn't just zap the frickin thing back into life. And as if his tiny flat wasn't freezing enough, when he'd woken up that morning and extracted himself from under the Mount Everest of the blanket world he'd found the world encased in snow and the water in the taps completely frozen.
Sirius had sworn and cursed the stupidity of the Muggle world until he'd warmed himself up and then set about spending the rest of the morning wrapped in his coat and feeling very sorry for himself.
Maybe if he got pneumonia Remus would feel sufficiently sorry for him and take him in until the heating got fixed.
Moody appeared, red faced and blowing steam from his ears as Sirius was attempting to bash the water in the kettle into submission, in the hope that shards or ice and coffee would somehow become something wonderful.
Moody looked distinctly unimpressed (Unimpressed, Merlin, he looked murderous) and zapped the sorry mixture furiously with his wand. "And where the hell d'you think you are, Black?"
"Unless I've lost it completely, this looks a lot like my kitchen Moody mate," Sirius winked, and then a sharp clout round the head made him immediately regret trying to be clever.
"Out the door, Black."
Sirius, who was gingerly patting the back of his head, decided now was not the time to argue, and just managed to grab his scarf before Moody booted him out into the corridor.
Clearly, Sirius had missed something bloody important.
Two imploding toilets, mental scars that weren't likely to ever fade, a street flooded with sewege, snow, and a capohany of foul mouthedness later, Sirius collasped in through the door of his flat. His fingers felt like they would never move again and his ears felt as if someone was trying to puncture them with knitting needles.
"Bloody important," Sirius muttered. "I'll give him bloody important."
He was getting the feeling that Mad Eye didn't like him much.
It was crashing through into his freezing cold flat that had made him realise how much he disliked James Potter. How much, when he thought about it, he wished he was James Potter.
Sirius growled. What a horrible thought. But standing in the middle of an empty, icy, dark and decidedly lonely flat, the thought began to seem quite an appealing one.
He shook his head. And found himself wishing for Remus.
It wasn't new. At least it was a bit more reassuring than being jealous of James. Bloody James. Bloody, stupid, annoying, happy, warm and definately not lonely James Potter.
