A/N: Hello all, I hope you're staying safe :)
This is the first in a compilation of short tales which see what the Marauders might get up to if they faced a Ministry-imposed lockdown and weren't allowed out (except for a select few reasons). I anticipate that the tales may be read in any order and that more characters will feature in the future (in various settings).
This episode occurs following the Tumblr prompt: "If we're assigning blame then this is your fault for leaving me alone with explosives in the first place."
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Explosive Beginnings
"Well…" Sirius began, pouting as he considered his stance, "If we're assigning blame then this is your fault for leaving me alone with explosives in the first place."
Remus halted, visibly taken aback; his eyes widened, and he blinked twice before responding.
"They weren't explosives when I left you half an hour ago! It was just stationary. Plain, boring stationary. And you've turned it into… what the hell even is this, anyway?"
He surveyed the room – or at least, what was left of it – around them.
Where there'd been a large, oak bookcase (empty at the moment, just like the majority of the space around them) there stood a table, of sorts. Whatever had originally stood taller than Remus' shoulder had been lost in the blast (along with the ends of Sirius' hair, it seemed, but Remus hadn't the heart to tell him about that bit quite yet). It had then fallen on its side, looking more like a coffee table with unusually large sides than anything else.
The light fitting, which had been temperamental at best, was now a vacant hole in the ceiling.
The collection of dust, meanwhile, which Remus had half-collected beside the doorframe, was now indistinguishable from the hole in the floor where the main part of the blast had occurred. The outline of a metal frame could be seen from the space below.
The only unaffected part of the room was the corner shelf in the far corner of the room, and the small tin pot which had stood upon it. Okay, so the pot had also fallen over but given that it was still in one piece, Remus was tempted to call it a small victory.
"It's an experiment," Sirius answered, barking a laugh at his friend's balking expression.
Remus shook his head, "It's carnage. And I still don't understand what you've actually done." He'd left the room, and the building, less than forty minutes previous to visit the main building of his parents' house and pick up some food for the duo. He hadn't been privy to Sirius' bored pacing, or the 'artwork' he'd begun to scribble into the wall before giving up and deciding to practice something he'd learned during his time at James' over the Easter break – just two weeks before the Ministry had imposed the lockdown.
"Nothing that can't be fixed with a bit of magic. You'll have your prison back soon enough," he conveyed with a boyish grin.
It was true, Remus wasn't the least bit concerned about not having anywhere to get locked up for the next full moon. But that didn't mean his mother would have been thrilled to come outside and find the building in its current state.
"You might want to tell your mum that, though."
Remus looked up and followed Sirius' gaze towards the doorway where Hope stood, carrying the tray of snacks and drinks which Remus had left behind earlier in response to the sudden blast in his back garden.
"We'll get it sorted," Remus told her, before she had chance to speak.
She smiled, reservedly, a motherly kindness behind her eyes.
"I've no doubt," she agreed, "And it had better be before your father gets back from his shift at the hospital. But before that… why is Sirius' hair still on fire?"