Disclaimer: Um, just, no. Although, once again, the wit remains ever truthfully ours.
Author's Note: I figured I'd issue a warning that pretty much this entire chapter is ridiculous and insane. There are multiple conversations going on at once, although it should be a little easier with the little key. So, here's question posed. Rosencrantz is James and I am Lily. Who do the other Marauders belong to?
James
Sirius
Remus
Peter
Lily
September 29th, day after Prefect's Meeting, discussion between Marauders during class
from James, tucked into Remus's notes on properties of rosemary, read & taken by Sirius: Am wallowing in a deep pit of misery, yet feel oddly buoyant. Help, am confused.
slid back, wedged between pages of textbook: Didn't know was possible to feel two things at same time. Have you finally admitted to second personality?
flicked viciously at Sirius's ear: Git. When in love one feels a thousand emotions. You, obviously, have never been in love and do not understand.
thrown back in direction of James's eye, but rebounds harmlessly off glasses lens: Obviously, I understand that falling in love makes one an idiot and a mess of feelings. Possibly a female as well.
tossed at Sirius, hits chair and lands at Remus's feet: Am not female! Am all man, and have much proof.
written twice and thrown at both Sirius and James: Glad to know the gender of my friends, I was beginning to doubt. Note: Why haven't you charmed some parchment to exchange messages so as to avoid throwing paper constantly, Mssrs. Top Of Class?
thrown at Remus's back, out of spite: It's more exciting and daring this way, that's why. Besides, you might never have known of James's manliness otherwise.
flicked neatly over shoulder, landing in center of Sirius's desk: I don't fancy paper cuts in unusual places such as my ear due to your eager note-passing, much less hearing you complain about them. And considering James paraded about the dorm in naught but his socks and a cape not last week, his "manliness" is quite well known on my part.
folded to a point and poked into Remus's back multiple times: That was not James. That was Naught but Sock and Cape Man.
stuck in a book and dropped on Sirius's foot: Was James. You wrote it on his chest and shoved him out the door whilst laughing. You evil mastermind.
stuck in same book and unceremoniously stuck between back of seat and Remus's back: Wanker.
dropped on floor and kicked back: No, that was you. Last night.
to James on charmed parchment: Would somebody who was "all man" as you say, have spent two hours last night eating chocolates and moaning?
surprised, on same parchment: Took his advice, no more flicking paper round like madmen? Hmph. What sort of chocolate, and what volume of moaning, exactly?
scribbled out so barely legible: Better than getting caught. I don't know, you stupid prat, you were the one eating the chocolate.
stuck down the back of Remus's robes: For one so mild mannered and polite, such a suggestion is met with disbelief. Am appalled you would say such things.
To James, on Sirius's parchment, kicked deftly from his desk: Worry not, any man that moans over chocolate is a man indeed. Sirius doesn't understand.
To Sirius, charmed to fly down his trousers: Polite this. Oh, look, got your hand down your trou again!
is politely slid across floor to rest at Remus's feet: Mssr. Padfoot suggests that Mssr. Moony takes careful time this evening to make sure his will is satisfactory.
dropped on floor again: Mssr. Moony has had will written since age 7 on certain advice, and revises every year, not that Mssr. Padfoot really needed to know that. Not that Mssr. Moony's life is in danger this night, as the name he heard from Mssr. Padfoot's bed was rather familiar, ha ha ha.
flicked at Sirius's head, from James: You are both ignoring my great and epic life. I'm very put out by this. Exiting conversation now, enjoy your happy little canine world. Pass on to Remus. Self-absorbed berks.
passed on dutifully to Remus, with comments scrawled across bottom: Have feeling that James needs to be reminded, that in fact sun does not revolved around him, but me. ps: Maybe not death, but very dangerous blackmail.
held behind back for Peter to grab: Make James feel better and listen to him.
on Sirius's charmed parchment, after stealing James's and putting it in front of Sirius: Best way to notify him of that is to duly ignore him. It will take practice, as his head often takes up one's entire field of vision, but we can do it. PS: We can blackmail each other equally, so I feel your threats are rather empty.
written back, accompanied by a very sketchy, yet unmistakably lewd face: My threats are never empty, Moony, my friend.
From Peter tossed with surprising accuracy onto James's desk: Hullo, what's all this about then?
after adding a moustache and subsequently crossing out said face: So you claim, yet I remain unconcerned. Perhaps if you threatened me with something truly horrifying, such as a charm that would stick your chattering self to my side for an entire uninterrupted day, thus causing me to lose my blessed time of peace, then I might be concerned.
tossed dejectedly onto Peter's desk, falling into his lap: Obviously none of you love your dear friend James and want to hear of his minor conquest and minor failure of last night.
this time writing accompanied by a pair of lips: Liar. If forced to stay at my side without leaving for an entire day would simply die halfway through from sheer happiness. Is I who would have to live through library visits and obscene amounts of tea.
thrown back, with accuracy for a second time, landing neatly on top of James's notes: I asked you last night what the matter was and you told me to bugger off.
written in a circle for no apparent reason: You wouldn't notice the library or tea, should either happen, as you would be too busy ruffling my hair and poking my scars and talking about the next moon and complaining about how James has Quidditch and Head Boy duties and in general making worse run-on sentences than this fine example.
crumpled up and tossed back, caught neatly by Peter: I was tired. Sorry, mate. Takes at least twelve hours to process any exciting events with my One True Love to the point of discussion.
written in neat, straight lines, and correct penmanship: Yes, but that happens everyday, so no reason is seen that would suggest being charmed to my side would be any different than yesterday, today, or tomorrow.
third times proves to be a charm as, once again, Peter's aim is impeccable: I suppose the stomachache from all that chocolate would be rather distracting. Forgiven. Am open to discussion about said One True Love.
just plain written: This is true, as you do seem to follow me around a curious amount. Not that I'm completely complaining. PS: I lied, I heard no wanking, just a lot of snoring. About as bad, as that doesn't tend to stop.
written diagonally, just because: Members of the Esteemed Family Black do not snore. However, this will be overlooked as someone has just admitted to enjoying my company.
kicked along ground to Peter: Do you think sharing shampoo but rejecting a gift of chocolates is a good sign? I mean, shampoo! But, chocolates! I'm torn.
hits the side of James's arm, instead of desk, and lands at his feet: Lily is sharing your shampoo? Who does that?
on charmed parchment: Like you would know if you snore. And I admitted to not complaining about your company, but if you want to take it as enjoyment, feel free. Note: I have a surplus of Sugar Quills in my trunk, and am personally quite sick of them. Up for a trade?
excitedly, if writing can be described as such: For my mounds of chocolate frogs? When can trade be executed? ps: I can see the enjoyment leaking from your every pore.
launched in a makeshift catapult of quill/ink bottle combination: Lily Evans, apparently. I was surprised too, but not about to complain. Offered to wash hair for her, but she declined understandably. We are not quite that close, though I thought it worth a try.
sent back, in an empty Bertie Bott's box: Perhaps by the end of the year. Head Boy and Girl must get to know each other very well, after all. Perhaps she is on a diet?
as straight faced as handwriting gets: No. In exchange for being my personal sex slave for one night. Trade after lunch, before Independent Study. Will take IOU. PS: Enjoyment does not leak from pores.
flicked back quickly: End of year? How about Hols? Halloween? Surely no girl is on a diet come Halloween. Perhaps should try a different gift. Suggestions?
reply made quickly: Only had to ask. Trade not necessary to become your sex slave. However, will not ask you to take it back as I will gain Sugar Quills from the deal. ps: Yes it does. I can see it.
thrown underhand: Not as much of ladies' man as Sirius, but I would suggest sonnets. Even badly written ones are still appreciated. Idea: Maybe she is on a diet so she can eat as much as she wants at the feast.
after long moment staring at paper: I will end up being your Sugar Daddy, and all will end in ruin as I am very poor. It's a good thing you would be my sex slave for no greater reason than pure lust for my artistically scarred body, as that is all I have to give.
without pause: And what a gift it is.
tossed lightly: Perhaps after class I will ask Sirius what he used on his parchment. You might have to refresh me on sonnets, or perhaps Remus if he's not too busy with Sirius. RE diet: Makes no sense. Girl needs no diet, is absolutely perfect and could even gain three hundred pounds and be an angel.
scribbled quickly: Insert lewd look here. Imagine the things I could do with my werewolf strength and stamina. PS: On second thought, please don't, as it would be embarrassing for you to be in class in such a condition.
actually passed along instead of thrown: Read lots of Shakespeare and try to copy what he says. I don't know much about sonnets. About Diet: Yes it makes sense. Girls are often under impression that they weigh too much. Maybe let her know that even if she was four hundred pounds you would still date her.
flicked along floor: Will read Shakespeare and tear Remus away from his books and his pet dog sometime today. Diet: Conclusive proof that girls are insane. Yet irresistible.
passed discreetly to Lily: Darling Shampoo Mate: Would still be passionately in love with you no matter what your girlish reason for refusing my chocolate, such as ludicrous idea that it would cause you to gain any unseemly weight, as your eyes are your best feature anyhow. Please reconsider, am dying to shower you with chocolate and sweets and other tokens of my love.
written in form of heart: I'm afraid that's all I think about all the time, Moony. That's why I feel the need to take out frustrations on so many unsuspecting girls.
scrawled uncreatively: Odd how I haven't seen you have one date this year. So it seems you were right, and Black's don't snore, but use the sound of snoring to mask more unacceptable activities. Perhaps we should work to help you over these feelings for me in whatever way we can, as you obviously are suffering.
handed back to James with same discreetness: Slightly Mad, Yet Slightly Endearing Co-Head Person: Am grateful you value my eyes, as last night's shampoo discussion might suggest otherwise. Am also flattered, though disbelieving that your love is quite so strong as to survive unseemly amounts of weight. I do not wish to receive showers of gifts if they are not being returned in your direction. Which I am afraid they won't be.
also written in an unforgivably normal fashion: As has been said many times in the past, you are much too smart for your own good. However, I'm afraid that feelings must be avoided, because, unlike James, I am all man, and terrified of any feelings I might be experiencing.
charmed to flutter like a butterfly: Am slightly endearing? This puts me on the cloud that comes after eight. It is obvious how highly I value every bit of you, since the bit I don't value the most was so highly praised previously and forever. Your disbelief wounds me, as I am sincere. Lastly, the point of gifts is not to be returned, but to simply be bestowed on the gift-ee with no ulterior motive but the gift-ee's happiness. I will persevere.
folded into fourths and passed secretly to James: I trust you will. However, if you could please wait until we are not in class, it would be greatly appreciated, as I plan on learning today. Please do not fall down to cloud five, you might bump your head.
written in what seems to be quite the style, boringly: And thus is why you love me so. It is not just on a physical level, and is obviously the reason for your terror. As far as being all man, though they say opposites attract, they also claim two is better than one. An interesting paradox, and one you will have to deal with alone as I am not ready to take the next step into a torrid love affair with one of my best mates.
kicked rather eagerly back to Peter: On cloud nine! Said I am slightly endearing and trusts I will give her more gifts! Am going to act like I am paying attention, think it might look good in her eyes, as it is what she plans on doing. Sonnet research tonight!
accompanied by little penned teardrops: You've broken my heart in two before I've even given it to you, you beast. Two is often most better than one, but only if said one is not Sirius Black. Do not fear, will do best to hold back wall of love and reserve it for people who are not best mates, or in fact, more than strangers.
flicked neatly into James's lap: I guess I'll stop writing you then. We'll head to the library as soon as possible.
with a scrawled heart in two pieces: Use Spell-o-tape. Perhaps one day I will be ready for torrid affair, but today is not that day. Until then, the standard two Quills for each Frog? Rather than five quills for every sexual favour, as I had planned. I do not wish to toy with your emotions if I can avoid it, as I care about you deeply. (As platonic friends, mind.)
written in the form of Spell-o-tape: Sounds reasonable to me, although much more will be sacrificed for a satisfactory amount of Quills. My emotions have already been toyed with sufficiently from your teasing notes, and have finally settled back down in the toy box for now.