Disclaimer: Shakespeare sonnets and cumming's poems most certainly do not belong to us in any way shape or form.

James

Sirius

Peter

Chapter Three: In the library that evening, a discourse started between James and Peter

slid over to James on the top of a fresh sheet of parchment: Do you know how to write a sonnet yet?

below Peter's note: Not at all. Have found book of sonnets and am thinking of stealing-- borrowing one.

accompanied by a 'hmmmm': Do you think she would notice if you simply lifted one? Maybe Lily reads and loves sonnets all the time and would be able to tell in a moment if you copied one and as a result would hate you forever.

referencing book briefly, and sighing: Would she notice "Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,/Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,/Have put on black and loving mourners be,/Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain." Is very appropriate, I think. She'd appreciate the thought, I'm sure.

after a moment's hesitation: Am very impressed with pretty phrases. I think if you let her know that you know that the sonnet's not yours she would love it.

scrawled after deliberation: Must choose very carefully. Not sure what the rest of that sonnet means, and may have to continue searching. Of course would never pass it off as mine! She knows the only poems I can write are vulgar, referencing naughty bits.

being the supportive friend he is: I'm sure if you tried you could write her a nice enough poem. You know, even if it was horrible. Note: Sonnets have fourteen lines

wrinkling nose in distaste: I know they have fourteen lines, am not utter failure. Must admit: cannot rhyme except with certain aforementioned naughty bits.

shaking head as he writes: Not true. I give you the line, "Your eyes are inviting as a warm summer's day..." and you give me the line...

pushing books about while writing: ..."Which reminds me I wouldn't mind a lay." I'm hopeless! I can't say that to her. PS: What's this bloke with all lowercase? And no rhyming.

glancing through the book: You had me thinking you really were romantic until that. Sirius's influence has obviously done something to your mind. ps: e.e. cummings. Another Muggle. His stuff is quite interesting.

staring at Peter in amazement before writing: You know me not. Sirius did nothing to me. He has stolen mine glory of perverseness. Which exactly what I'm trying to hide, actually. And this Cummings bloke is insane. This r-p-o-p-h-e-s-s-a-g-r thing makes no sense.

note tossed over James's shoulder, and landing neatly in his lap: Hullo Prongsie, best mate! How goes the manly search for poetry?

flicked backward: I'm not speaking to you, you not-carer-about-my-epic-battle-for-love. You don't love me anymore.

dropped on the table as Sirius walks casually by pretending to look for a book: You insult me! Of course I love you. You're like a brother to me. And everybody knows that we are required to love brothers very deep down. How is the broad, anyway?

tucked into Sirius's pocket as he passes again: You just want to get into my pants, is what you mean by 'deep down'. And she's not a broad. She is a beautiful woman, full of kindness and verve and wit.

thrown at James, folded into the shape of a heart: First Moony, and now you. Why have I all of a sudden become a creature lusting after best mates? I'm quite sorry, didn't mean to insult the missus. How is the beautiful woman then?

pushed into Sirius's collar: Pardon? Last six years, it was you making those comments, and suddenly you're offended when they're turned around. Something changed this summer that you didn't let me in on. Beautiful woman is lovely and beautiful as always. Red hair especially shiny and soft from my shampoo. I know, as she let me feel its softness as it is my shampoo anyway.

heading at top of paper consists of giant question mark: Who? Me? I simply tell the truth, James mate. Can't help it if you want me so. Beautiful woman let you feel her hair as a result of shampoo sharing? Why did you not tell me about this? V. interesting development.

scratched rather roughly into paper out of frustration: I did not tell you because you would not listen. Tried to tell you, had to tell Peter. This is what you miss when you-- Wait, first Moony? Processing is slow when woman is on the mind. Do I want to know?

sent back in due time: That was this morning during class then, when was admitted you needed mental help. I told Peter to talk to you, so really should be thanking me for Peter's help. Moony seems to think I harbor deep seeded feelings for him. Ridiculous. Just because I admitted I worshipped him. Don't know where he comes up with such ideas.

stuck in Sirius's ear: Do not need mental help. Would have gone to Peter in the end in any case. RE Remus: Possibly the fact that you stare at him occasionally and begin drooling gives him ideas. Would get that checked.

dropped neatly in middle of book of cummings: Yes, but happened more quickly this way, therefore was helpful on my part. About Moony: the drooling is merely a condition of becoming a dog. Can't help it.

passed underhand: You're just making excuses. Don't see me freezing when bright lights are shone in my face. Rather, I blink and hit whoever is shining said light, as blindness is uncomfortable.

to Peter: Think I am going to attempt to write some sort of something on my own, but in the glorious outdoors. Don't tell Padfoot where I've gone.

back to James: Right. Good luck.