Me again! Just a note: since these guys went to school in the 1970's, I'm sure there were a few trends that would've been followed, long hair for boys definitely being one of them.
A few days pass, a stressful week evolving into a quiet, settle weekend before a new week begins. The sixth-years hurry into Professor McGonagall's NEWT Transfiguration course, a class not for the anxious and unfocused.
"James, how do I spell my first name?" Sirius yawns and asks tiredly, staring at his blank piece of parchment before Transfiguration. He grins up at Professor McGonagall, who decides to turn away before she indulges any more of their immature behaviour.
"You alright?" Sirius asks James. He places his weight on his elbow, his fingers raking his course, untamable, jet-black hair. He prides himself in having naturally wind-swept hair despite always trying to make it look windswept on still days, but he looks as if he wants to tear it all out.
"Yeah," James lies. "Just an itch. Go back to your work."
"I'm waiting for inspiration," he said with a hint of sarcasm that only his best friend can detect. He shakes his head and scrawls out a hopefully acceptable response to the question posted on the board. James has not even started as Sirius sees a faint insect crawling out from behind his ear.
"OK?" Peter asks at lunch. Sirius rubs the side of his head, wincing. Remus, reading a heavy hardback book, rolls his eyes.
"I think," he says. Truthfully, the itching never stops.
James sits down next to him, his hair a frizzy, tangled mess. "You too?" he asks. Sirius nods.
"D'you think-" Peter's voice drops. "D'you think you have lice?"
"DISGUSTING!" James bellows, taken aback. "There is no way I could have caught something that nasty and... CHILDLIKE!" He stands up and points to Sirius. "How could you give me lice, Padfoot?"
"ME? Why would I give you lice?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you-"
"Doesn't Gryffindor have a new Beater?" Sirius inquires.
James pauses. "Oh, yeah, Arwen…" Then it hits him.
"Exactly."
"OK… now what do we do?" he whispers, sitting back down.
"I'd go to Madam Pomfrey first, then clean your side of the dormitory not only because it's a mess but you share everything, which might not always be the best idea," Remus states. He looks up at Sirius, whose elegant dark tresses rest slightly below his collarbone and James, whose hair seems to reach his shoulders, but there is no way of telling because it typically grows in every direction but down. "I would also seriously consider getting a haircut," he adds softly.
James looks thoughtful. "Hmm, I'll think of something," he wonders aloud, itching his head. Then, he widens his eyes and waves his arms. "GOT IT! Using deductive reasoning… lice are bugs, right? And most bugs are pesky, right? So they need to be, for lack of a better term, ah, killed."
"Your point?" Sirius asks.
"IDIOT, WE CAN CRUSH THE LICE!"
"Doesn't that seem a bit violent and irrational?"
"Since when are you not up for the violent and irrational? MOONY-I think Padfoot is losing his edge!"
"ALRIGHT!" Sirius exclaims. Most comments don't bother him, but he refuses to ever be considered cowardly or mundane. He reaches across Gryffindor table and snatches Remus's book.
"I was reading that!" he mutters as his friend shuts the covers without Remus marking his page.
"Would this work?" Sirius asks, holding the book up to James. He nods.
"I'll go first. I have a high pain tolerance." He takes off his glasses and gently sets them down on the table.
Sirius sighs, raises the book, and hits James square in the side of the head with a dull thud.
"MERLIN'S PANTS!" James yells, cowering in pain, the side of his face a red-violet mosaic.
"Are you OK, Prongs?" demands Peter.
"I thought you said you have a high pain tolerance!" laughs Sirius.
"You didn't have to hit me that hard!" James protests.
Remus buries his face in his shaking head. "And what have you two accomplished?" he asks sarcastically.
"Nothing?" Peter inquires, looking to Remus for assurance that his response is correct.
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