Disclaimer: Yeah. My idea. Though that's probably been used before too. Everything else, not mine.

Author's Notes: Huzzah! I finally finished! I've been working on this for around three weeks, and now it's done! It'sa lovely little humor piece for you, full of Marauders, pranks, and absolutely no romance! -is mucho happy-

Aliss

Simply Charmed (Boxers)

I grinned at my reflection in the mirror.

"Not bad, Lupin, not bad at all."

"Don't get too cocky there," the musty old mirror shot back.

I gave a laugh. Me, cocky. Ha. (No sarcasm intended.)

Toweling my hair dry, I walked from the bathroom into the dormitory.

"Moony!" cried Padfoot, covering his eyes with his hands. "The indecency! Put some clothes on!"

Prongs cocked an eyebrow after looking up from a Quidditch magazine. "Padfoot, he's got a towel on."

Sirius peered around his cupped hands and yelped. "Put some clothing on, man!"

With that he threw my favorite pair of boxers at my head.

They landed on Wormtail who was walking into the dormitory (a plate of toast at hand), a good five feet to my left. He picked them off of his toast with two fingers and held them at arms-length.

"Moony," he said warily, "why was your underwear just hurled into my breakfast?"

I shrugged and said lightly, "Pad thought you might enjoy them."

Wormtail cocked an eyebrow. "Then why doesn't he eat them if they're so excellent?"

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the boxers from Wormtail's still outstretched hand. A sudden thought hit me like my now butter-covered boxers had hit Pete's breakfast.

"Padfoot," I said slowly, turning to him, "why did you have my boxers in the first place?"

He flopped onto his bed after grabbing a piece of Wormtail's abandoned toast and said thickly, "I didn't."

"But I saw you," I said. "Right over there" — I pointed to my draws — "with my boxers."

He shoved another whole piece of toast in his mouth. "Ohoudidm."

"Yes, I did," I said, surprised myself that I could understand what Sirius had just said. "You had my underwear in your hand."

He swallowed with much difficulty. "You only think I did," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Fine," I said, shoving one leg through the designated leg-hole. "I'll just ignore the fact that you were messing around with my underwear."

Padfoot grabbed his book bag and another piece of toast before replying, "Good."

Shrugging, I finished dressing with few interruptions of my indecency. Grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, I headed down to the Great Hall to grab a bite and head to Transfiguration.

Upon reaching the Great Hall, I spotted my lazy-bum all-I-do-is-eat-'cos-that's-all-I-know-how-to-do friends. Oh yes, joy of joys.

Dropping my bag, I went to sit. My fellow Marauders immediately stood.

"Well, let's head to Transfiguration, shall we?" said Padfoot brightly, shoving a muffin (which had a chunk missing from the top that looked suspiciously like a bite mark) into my hand.

Peering at my wristwatch, I stated coolly, "We have half an hour until class begins."

"The early bird gets the worm!" sang Wormtail, picking up my bag and tossing it at me.

"I do hope you're not referring to McGonagall," I replied, slinging my bag over my shoulder yet again as I shoved a bite of the muffin in my mouth, picking around the teeth marks.

"Nope," said Prongs, rubbing his hands together, a glint of determination in his eyes. "Evans."

I snorted, showering Wormtail and Padfoot in bits of boysenberry muffin.

"Sorry, Wormtail," I apologized, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.

He flicked a berry from his cheek in response.

"Don't I get a sorry?" asked Padfoot indignantly.

I put on my inquisitive face as I pretended to think for a moment.

"Ah… no."

"Oh, you'll be sorry soon enough," he muttered, and broke out into maniacal laughter.

Sometimes he scares me.

Okay, there isn't a time when he doesn't scare me.

It's a shame. He has such a brilliant mind.

"Black, renounce that outrageous laughter at once or I'll be forced to take house points," snapped the crisp voice of one Minerva McGonagall, current Transfiguration professor and Head of Gryffindor House.

Padfoot snapped his mouth shut instantly. Interesting the control she has over the boy….

"I'm glad to see you boys here so early," she continued, unlocking her classroom door and propping the door open with a quick wave of her wand. "The early bird gets the worm, you know."

Following her into the classroom, James said with that same resolute glint in his eyes, "I know."

Rolling my eyes, I trailed after Mr. Lover-boy, with Padfoot and Wormtail at my heels. We walked in over to our regular seats— fifth row back on the right, just far enough to stay out of serious trouble (no pun intended) and yet close enough to cause minor bedlam.

Dropping my bag next to my usual seat — the one farthest the isle — I was about to seat myself when I found Padfoot in my chair, trying to act inconspicuous.

It's far too early in the morning for this.

Opening my mouth, I gave an aggravated sigh and said slowly, "Padfoot, why are you in my seat?"

"I'm not?" he responded unconvincingly, the eye twitching doing him no good.

I gave him a very good imitation of a miffed McGonagall, if I do say so myself.

He tried again, this time with, "Just spicing up life?"

I took a moment to stare pointedly from Peter, who was sleeping soundly on his Transfiguration book, over to James, who was busy scribbling something furiously on a scrap of parchment and muttering Lily Evans' name under his breath.

"Oh yes, enthralling," I droned, dragging my bag over to Pete's usual seat, the one nearest the isle.

Before I had a chance to sit, Sirius had once again managed to screw the simple process up. He had taken my stool and relocated it on top of our table.

"Under the table!" he said, pointing beneath the bench and looking just as confused by his actions as I was. "Either that or Wormy's lap!"

Pete woke with a start and stated groggily, "If Mr. Padfoot said what Mr. Wormtail thought he just said, then Mr. Wormtail would like to say that he's not sure if he'd approve of that." He set his head back on the desk with a snore.

I nodded in agreement.

Padfoot blinked up at me with his puppy-dog eyes.

"Meh. I just want to sit!" I pouted, folding my arms in a very Evans-like fashion. And speak of the devil, here she comes… along with the rest of the class, who decided to show up at a normal, decent time, not half hour before class starts.

Sirius blinked once before reaching for my seat and saying, "Okay."

The bell rang and students seated themselves as Padfoot returned my stool to its normal location.

"Good morning, class. Now, let's begin today's lesson," stated McGonagall as I finally got a chance to sit for the first time this morning.

Thank Merlin.

"How 'bout not, you great narkie!"

Not thank Merlin.

The entire class turned to look at our Marauder table, where Wormtail had just awoken, Prongs was continuing to stare openly at Evans (and drool, if I'm not mistaken), Padfoot was placidly charming an origami duck different colors, and I was staring blankly at the blackboard.

"Mr. Lupin!" screeched McGonagall.

"Hmm?" I responded, far too lazy to open my mouth while pondering who might interrupt McGonagall so early on in the lesson.

"I will have none of that in my class! Hold your tongue or I'll be forced to give you a detention," she said briskly, turning back to the board.

"But Professor, that wasn't me!" I retorted, offended that she would think that.

"I won't have excuses, Lupin," she replied, her back still to the students, either missing or (most likely) ignoring the snickers of my peers.

Now I was thoroughly miffed indeed. That was clearly not me. My voice is much deeper and more… manly…. Okay, maybe it did sound a bit like me, but certainly not that much!

I folded my arms across my chest to prove my irked-ness… er— to prove my not happiness… to prove my… er — unhappiness. Right. Sure.

Anyway.

I folded my arms and leaned back to sulk when I realized our stools don't have the necessary backs needed for sulking… whence I fell off of my chair and landed right on my bum.

Or "Unmentionable," as Peter calls it. But anyway.

"No one cares about bleeding Transfiguration, you dung-headed poofter!"

The room was filled with neurotic giggling as I stood up, rubbing my bum profusely. Too preoccupied with necessary bum-rubbing, I didn't happen to notice McGonagall standing white-faced in front of me.

"What did you say, Lupin?" she whispered through clenched teeth.

Removing my hand from my bum, I looked up and said slowly, "I didn't say anything, Professor."

"Come now, Lupin, I heard you," she said, her thin lips pressed in an even thinner line. "The whole class heard you. Come, let's here it."

"Really, Professor McGonagall, I didn't say anything," I repeated. "You must have heard incorrectly."

She turned to Lily Evans.

"What about you, Evans?" she asked. "What did you hear Lupin say?"

Lily gave me an apologetic sort of face contortion before saying meekly, "I believe he called you a dung-headed poofter, Professor."

"And what about you, Black?" she snapped at Sirius. "What did you hear your little friend say?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment before saying loudly, "No one cares about bleeding Transfiguration, you dung-headed poofter!"

McGonagall sighed and said in a strained voice, "Thank you, Mr. Black."

Turning to me, she pointed at the seat and said, "Sit, and if I hear one more word out of you, detention."

I nodded timidly and sat as she strode up to the front of the classroom.

"Where ya goin', Miss Airy-Fairy? Not gonna back down from a fight that quickly, are you, you wanking blighter?"

She turned to me, face white as a sheet and lips so thin you could swear you didn't see them at all.

She pointed one finger at the classroom door and managed to sputter, "Detention, seven o'clock, my office. Now out."

I gathered up my bag and stumbled through the door quickly. Closing the door behind me, I headed toward the Great Hall, thinking I might as well have a spot of breakfast since I had a whole period left.

I growled under my breath, earning a few odd stares from a couple fifth years some seats down from me who had been offended when my bum had told them to "shut their bleeding cakes so I could eat in peace."

Who would do this to me, a Marauder? Who would have the nerve? The scheme? The wits to pull it off?

The answer hit me like a certain pair of boxers had hit Wormtail only quarter of an hour ago.

Back in the Transfiguration classroom, Sirius and James shared a high-five and a wicked grin of a job well done.

FIN. OR IS IT…?