McG suddenly and quite randomly put her hand on Ron's neck, having been
holding it out in the snow for quite sometime. Harry almost bit through his
tongue in frustration.
"What did you do that for?" He snarled, forgetting he was addressing his Head of House "We'll never get him down now!" He indicated his friend, who was clinging determinedly onto one of the candles, shuddering violently.
Hermione cast Wingardium Leviosa on herself and attempted to pry the redhead's fingers off the small glob of wax. She needn't have worried, though. His hot sweaty hands were melting the candle.
Suddenly the charm Flitwick had put on the light was released from the sticky glob, and the candle and Ron dropped to the floor, landing by luck on Severus.
Of course, it was lucky for everyone else, just not Severus.
Graham, who had at some point during this been hit hard on the head with a broomstick, was wandering disjointedly around in a daze. Ron, who had quickly recuperated, stopped him.
"You must prepare yourself, Pinky, for what we are to do tonight!" He said, in a weird accent. In landing, he had hit his head on Severus' head, though Severus seemed to be faring rather better than he was.
"Why, Brain, what are we doing tonight?" Graham responded, almost automatically.
"The same thing we do every night, Pinky. We try to take over the world."
"Oh great." Graham smiled happily. "I love parties."
"Pinky. Don't make me hurt you."
"And toast, I love toast too."
Ron suddenly and very randomly kicked Graham in the shin, and when the comedian complained just replied:
"I warned you, Pinky."
McG blinked. Twice.
"What the hell was all that about?" She asked. The rest of the group shook their heads, indicating that it wasn't just McG, and that the two really were losing their minds.
Hey! Look what I found!" Quirrell shouted, showing his newfound friends a shiny metal Muggle implement.
"Oh, one of those." Hermione turned her nose up in disgust. "It's called a gun. It shoots things that go very very fast."
"Whatever." Quirrell shrugged. Sirius stared at the thing, in his own little state of perpetual bliss.
"Shiny..." he muttered to himself. Remus, one of the few who had been keeping up with current affairs, made his opinion noticed.
"Are we still playing truth or dare?" He asked. There was a huge mob cheer, even from the psychotically ill among them. He smiled.
"Good-o. Graham, truth or dare?"
"Tru... tru..." Graham stuttered for no particular reason, other than the author needs a plot device.
"Truth?" Lupin asked.
"Dare." Graham clarified, sticking his tongue out.
"Good." Remus smiled evilly. He hadn't been a Marauder for nothing, y'know. "I dare you to ride Harry's Firebolt."
Exclamations of disbelief issued from two different mouths.
"Are you nuts? On MY broomstick? He'll snap it, bit by bit! He's a fucking Muggle! I bet he's never flown in his life!" Harry yelled.
"Yeah, what he said!" Graham added vaguely. "Oh, apart from the flying. I have been in a plane, y'know."
"Oh, good." Remus grinned. Graham, realising he'd made a mistake, backed away in protest. Severus, with his terrible headache, had had enough. He grabbed the Irish man round the waist, somehow managing to tie him to the broom with the same ropes used so many time in the third book (why? Who knows!)
On Remus' commands, the broom went up in the air, but then he stopped his muttering and let poor Graham take control.
"Noooooooooo!" Graham yelled, vainly attempting to steer the broom. He passed Quirrell, almost hitting him in the face.
In his shock, Quirrell reflexively fired the gun, which was (for comedy value, of course) loaded.
The bullet ricocheted (don't you love that word?) around the room, narrowly missing McG and carving a bullet-sized tunnel through Hermione's overly frizzy hair. Bouncing off the table at an awkward angle, it shot up into the air, where Graham was grimly trying to hold onto his broom. The bullet cut through the ropes binding the man's hands to the wood, and he almost dropped, managing just to cling on.
"Watch it, you cretiiiiiiiiiiiiin!" He yelled down at Quirrell, screaming slightly as the broom took off again.
Hitting the ceiling, the bullet bounced back down towards the fascinated witches and wizards assorted. It bounced once or twice off the table before finally lodging itself up Severus' left nostril (yes, I know in real life it would kill him, but this isn't real life... remember?)
Severus sneezed and the bullet flew out into his beef and lemon pastie (don't ask). He collapsed backwards.
Graham's hand finally slipped from the broom and he fell from the ceiling, landing in a particularly well-placed blancmange and complaining something awful about dry cleaning bills.
"Will! Elizabeth! Monkey!" Dumbledore yelled. He had been carted back in, wearing a straight jacket and with the warning that if he was naughty again the men in white coats would take him away and spank him. Scarily, the look on his face told them he might enjoy that.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Been watching Pirates of the Caribbean again, Professor?" He asked sarcastically.
"Pride of the King's Navy you are!" Dumbledore replied. Draco rolled his eyes.
"I'm not in the navy."
"And for good reason." The Headmaster sniggered, in an eerily creepish way that reminded Draco of a donkey.
"Oh, shut up."
Severus woke up to find that Graham, who had recovered from his ill-timed encounter with a dessert, had drunk his rum.
"The rum's gone!" He breathed in disbelief.
"Yes, the rum is gone." Hermione clarified, rolling her eyes at the alcoholic in front of her.
"Why is the rum gone?" Her Potions Master asked.
"Because Graham drank it." She indicated at the man in question with her finger.
"Yes, but why is the rum gone?" Severus persisted. (sorry, I couldn't resist - that line is c-l-a-s-s-i-c)
"Ask him!" Hermione repeated, pointing still at the guilty one, who was grinning happily.
Severus approached, angry that his rum was gone. Graham (who, as we all know, can't handle his drink) sidled up to him.
"Hey there, sexxxxxxxxxxxxy, wanna come for sssstroll?" He asked, slurring to his hearts content and poking Severus repeatedly in the sides about where his kidneys were.
"Pass, ta." Severus contorted his face into the infamous "S shape of Um" and staggered off, trying to dislodge the annoyingly persistent comedian.
Quirrell floated past, happy for some reason. The fighting Severus and Graham stumbled right through him.
"Oi! D'you mind?" He asked, dumping a cheese soufflé on them. They both stopped, Graham suddenly quite sober, before leaping on the ghost shouting obscenities.
"Cretin! Do you know how much it will cost to clean this shirt?" Graham yelled. Severus growled, managing to push the spectral psychopath backwards.
Both living men leapt simultaneously at the trembling Quirrell, and both slammed simultaneously into the wall. Quirrell, in his fear, had stepped backwards right through it.
He found himself in the small "cupboard under the stairs" room where Hagrid kept all his pets. There was a classic Scooby-Doo moment where Quirrell was running with all his might but not going anywhere before he burst, yelling blue murder, back through the wall of the Great Hall.
He gasped out about the terrors of the tiny room, and Sirius, Remus, Severus and Graham, all being slightly drunk, grabbed some stale Irish Stew and viciously sharpened sporks from the table before gathering in the middle of a circle of the remaining students and teachers.
~
Ah, the things we get up to when we're pissed off our faces.
BTW, sorry about all the random brackets, I just had to add those comments.
Sorry it took so long to update, I've been lazy.
Cretin - you just have to love that word, it sounds so funny and so wrong somehow. Along with prefabricated. That word shouldn't be in the dictionary ;)
"What did you do that for?" He snarled, forgetting he was addressing his Head of House "We'll never get him down now!" He indicated his friend, who was clinging determinedly onto one of the candles, shuddering violently.
Hermione cast Wingardium Leviosa on herself and attempted to pry the redhead's fingers off the small glob of wax. She needn't have worried, though. His hot sweaty hands were melting the candle.
Suddenly the charm Flitwick had put on the light was released from the sticky glob, and the candle and Ron dropped to the floor, landing by luck on Severus.
Of course, it was lucky for everyone else, just not Severus.
Graham, who had at some point during this been hit hard on the head with a broomstick, was wandering disjointedly around in a daze. Ron, who had quickly recuperated, stopped him.
"You must prepare yourself, Pinky, for what we are to do tonight!" He said, in a weird accent. In landing, he had hit his head on Severus' head, though Severus seemed to be faring rather better than he was.
"Why, Brain, what are we doing tonight?" Graham responded, almost automatically.
"The same thing we do every night, Pinky. We try to take over the world."
"Oh great." Graham smiled happily. "I love parties."
"Pinky. Don't make me hurt you."
"And toast, I love toast too."
Ron suddenly and very randomly kicked Graham in the shin, and when the comedian complained just replied:
"I warned you, Pinky."
McG blinked. Twice.
"What the hell was all that about?" She asked. The rest of the group shook their heads, indicating that it wasn't just McG, and that the two really were losing their minds.
Hey! Look what I found!" Quirrell shouted, showing his newfound friends a shiny metal Muggle implement.
"Oh, one of those." Hermione turned her nose up in disgust. "It's called a gun. It shoots things that go very very fast."
"Whatever." Quirrell shrugged. Sirius stared at the thing, in his own little state of perpetual bliss.
"Shiny..." he muttered to himself. Remus, one of the few who had been keeping up with current affairs, made his opinion noticed.
"Are we still playing truth or dare?" He asked. There was a huge mob cheer, even from the psychotically ill among them. He smiled.
"Good-o. Graham, truth or dare?"
"Tru... tru..." Graham stuttered for no particular reason, other than the author needs a plot device.
"Truth?" Lupin asked.
"Dare." Graham clarified, sticking his tongue out.
"Good." Remus smiled evilly. He hadn't been a Marauder for nothing, y'know. "I dare you to ride Harry's Firebolt."
Exclamations of disbelief issued from two different mouths.
"Are you nuts? On MY broomstick? He'll snap it, bit by bit! He's a fucking Muggle! I bet he's never flown in his life!" Harry yelled.
"Yeah, what he said!" Graham added vaguely. "Oh, apart from the flying. I have been in a plane, y'know."
"Oh, good." Remus grinned. Graham, realising he'd made a mistake, backed away in protest. Severus, with his terrible headache, had had enough. He grabbed the Irish man round the waist, somehow managing to tie him to the broom with the same ropes used so many time in the third book (why? Who knows!)
On Remus' commands, the broom went up in the air, but then he stopped his muttering and let poor Graham take control.
"Noooooooooo!" Graham yelled, vainly attempting to steer the broom. He passed Quirrell, almost hitting him in the face.
In his shock, Quirrell reflexively fired the gun, which was (for comedy value, of course) loaded.
The bullet ricocheted (don't you love that word?) around the room, narrowly missing McG and carving a bullet-sized tunnel through Hermione's overly frizzy hair. Bouncing off the table at an awkward angle, it shot up into the air, where Graham was grimly trying to hold onto his broom. The bullet cut through the ropes binding the man's hands to the wood, and he almost dropped, managing just to cling on.
"Watch it, you cretiiiiiiiiiiiiin!" He yelled down at Quirrell, screaming slightly as the broom took off again.
Hitting the ceiling, the bullet bounced back down towards the fascinated witches and wizards assorted. It bounced once or twice off the table before finally lodging itself up Severus' left nostril (yes, I know in real life it would kill him, but this isn't real life... remember?)
Severus sneezed and the bullet flew out into his beef and lemon pastie (don't ask). He collapsed backwards.
Graham's hand finally slipped from the broom and he fell from the ceiling, landing in a particularly well-placed blancmange and complaining something awful about dry cleaning bills.
"Will! Elizabeth! Monkey!" Dumbledore yelled. He had been carted back in, wearing a straight jacket and with the warning that if he was naughty again the men in white coats would take him away and spank him. Scarily, the look on his face told them he might enjoy that.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Been watching Pirates of the Caribbean again, Professor?" He asked sarcastically.
"Pride of the King's Navy you are!" Dumbledore replied. Draco rolled his eyes.
"I'm not in the navy."
"And for good reason." The Headmaster sniggered, in an eerily creepish way that reminded Draco of a donkey.
"Oh, shut up."
Severus woke up to find that Graham, who had recovered from his ill-timed encounter with a dessert, had drunk his rum.
"The rum's gone!" He breathed in disbelief.
"Yes, the rum is gone." Hermione clarified, rolling her eyes at the alcoholic in front of her.
"Why is the rum gone?" Her Potions Master asked.
"Because Graham drank it." She indicated at the man in question with her finger.
"Yes, but why is the rum gone?" Severus persisted. (sorry, I couldn't resist - that line is c-l-a-s-s-i-c)
"Ask him!" Hermione repeated, pointing still at the guilty one, who was grinning happily.
Severus approached, angry that his rum was gone. Graham (who, as we all know, can't handle his drink) sidled up to him.
"Hey there, sexxxxxxxxxxxxy, wanna come for sssstroll?" He asked, slurring to his hearts content and poking Severus repeatedly in the sides about where his kidneys were.
"Pass, ta." Severus contorted his face into the infamous "S shape of Um" and staggered off, trying to dislodge the annoyingly persistent comedian.
Quirrell floated past, happy for some reason. The fighting Severus and Graham stumbled right through him.
"Oi! D'you mind?" He asked, dumping a cheese soufflé on them. They both stopped, Graham suddenly quite sober, before leaping on the ghost shouting obscenities.
"Cretin! Do you know how much it will cost to clean this shirt?" Graham yelled. Severus growled, managing to push the spectral psychopath backwards.
Both living men leapt simultaneously at the trembling Quirrell, and both slammed simultaneously into the wall. Quirrell, in his fear, had stepped backwards right through it.
He found himself in the small "cupboard under the stairs" room where Hagrid kept all his pets. There was a classic Scooby-Doo moment where Quirrell was running with all his might but not going anywhere before he burst, yelling blue murder, back through the wall of the Great Hall.
He gasped out about the terrors of the tiny room, and Sirius, Remus, Severus and Graham, all being slightly drunk, grabbed some stale Irish Stew and viciously sharpened sporks from the table before gathering in the middle of a circle of the remaining students and teachers.
~
Ah, the things we get up to when we're pissed off our faces.
BTW, sorry about all the random brackets, I just had to add those comments.
Sorry it took so long to update, I've been lazy.
Cretin - you just have to love that word, it sounds so funny and so wrong somehow. Along with prefabricated. That word shouldn't be in the dictionary ;)