A/N: If you're interested, in analyzing the personalities of fictional characters, good news! I just created a forum for such discussions. It's entitled "MBTI and Enneagram." Creative, I know. I've yet to figure out how to link it on my profile or in this story, but when I do, it shall be done.

Chapter Summary: In which we meet the Marauders, enjoying their 5th year as best mates...to the point of abominable cheesiness. It's a bit Sirius-intensive, but what can I say, I'm a Prongs fan. Enjoy.

The four boys sauntering through the corridors were recognizable by all that passed. The leader, a lanky boy with an artfully distressed mop of jet-black hair, had the sort of carefree confidence necessary to manage such a fine institution. His best friend marched beside him in a similar suave manner. The other two had not quite the same poise. One was at risk of running into a wall, due to the impossibly thick piece of literature guarding his vision. The other was neither arrogant Quidditch captain, nor infamous rebel, and certainly not a bookwormish werewolf. He was, for lack of a better term, completely lame.

The lazy Saturday seemed to be moving in slow motion, and James was intent on changing that unfortunate truth.

"What should we do Padfoot? I'd rather watch paint dry than wander around the halls. It's so dull," he said whilst tossing a snitch from hand to hand. He stopped for a moment to ruffle his hair.

Sirius snickered. "Oh I dunno. I suppose we could find dear Snivellus. That never gets old."

"That's the spirit! Only we hexed him a bit an hour ago. How about a pick-up Quidditch game on the outskirts of the forest?"

"Pranking first-years?"

"Mocking Slytherins?"

"Entering Hogsmeade through a secret passage?"

"Use our favorite map to find people behaving questionably, sneak up on them, and scare the living shite out of 'em?" The two boys shared a hearty laugh and slapped each other's backs. Deliberately they ignored Pettigrew, who reacted with an unintelligible squeal of delight, and a small dribble of spittle on the chin.

"Ah, Prongs. Too much, too much. Oy, Moony, stop being a prat and put the book down!" he said, snatching it away from his bemused friend. "What's this? Oh bloody hell, An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms? You've got to be kidding me."

"It's a fascinating piece of work really…" Lupin started.

"Please don't. Now if you do care about that load of taradiddle more than your best mates, by all means, crack on." With an uncharacteristically striking smirk, he tossed the volume with ease. Buckling under its weight, Remus scrambled to collect the stack of dusty paper.

"Forgive me Sirius. How could I forget, of course Prongs' lack of an attention span takes high priority over my own silly academic ambitions." He tossed the book back in his knapsack and sighed. "Now. Where were we? Discussing ploys of mischief?"

James flicked his head, giving his fringe a certain level of electricity. "Hey. Wait a second. Moony said I have no attention span!" He threw the snitch angrily.

"R…r…remus!" Wormtail squeaked in horror.

"Oh look! It's….it's…!" James gasped, promptly forgetting that he'd been insulted. He stopped in his tracks. The others as well.

"Snivellus?" replied Sirius hopefully.

"Someplace quiet?" lamented Remus.

Pettigrew simply shrieked "Hrrrgprr!"

Dreamy as a budding spring day, the bespectacled youth muttered, "Evans…" Sure enough, the gorgeous redhead was fast approaching from across the corridor. Padfoot and Moony sighed in contempt. "Bloody hell, I mean she's just so…so…she's Lily Evans. Y'know what I mean?" A warm, stupid grin took over his countenance. Quickly, he mussed his fringe to a proper state of disorder.

"Sure thing Prongs," Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

"Merlin's pants she's right there. Oh! Oy! Evans, wotcher!"

The stunning young witch slowed her pace ever so slightly, turned away from her gaggle of female friends, and turned to face James with a cold stare. "Drop dead."

"Good to see you too, Evans!" he called after her. "Care to get a butterbeer sometime?" Much to his dismay, she did not flinch. "Wait! We could grab a tea instead! C'mon Evans, you know you want me!" From far down the corridor, her shudder was just barely noticeable.

"Ah, James," Lupin said consolingly. "I know you like the girl, but I'm beginning to doubt she returns the feeling. She's just, how to put it…"

"Too good for you," Sirius retorted with a chuckle.

"P…p…padfoot!" Peter called out aghast, reminding the other chaps of his presence.

"Oh don't wet yourself Wormtail, I was just having a bit of fun. We all know Evans is no match for James; she's smart and prissy. Cares about rules and 'doing the right thing.' Pals around with Snivellus from time to time. Kill me now."

James glanced at his friends with the level of arrogance only found in rich, popular, white, athletic fifteen-year-old boys. "Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail, you just wait. By seventh year, she'll be begging for me. Bloody begging for me. It's only a matter of time mates…" Relishing the fantasy, he sat down against the wall, loyal friends copying the action as usual.

"Well, while you're busy pining after Lily for the next two years," Sirius said with a sultry smirk at a passing brunette Gryffindor. "I'll be enjoying the many benefits of being young."

Lupin shook his head. "And have you broken that poor girl's heart?"

"Not yet." The grinning boy stood up. "But what's the fun in that? I'll be off then mates."

"Padfoot!" James called out. "You can't just leave, we were about to, um…"

Remus cut in, "Do something supremely stupid and get away with it?" Each of the blokes laughed at Moony's wit, however Peter carried on hooting raucously for perhaps a beat past the point of social propriety.

"Yes, yes of course. Why shag beautiful girls when there's havoc to be wreaked? Where'll we be headed to James?"

Their mighty leader, captain, and king rose from his recumbent position and into a stance of charismatic dominance. "My dear chaps." Hair ruffle. Snitch toss. "We shall go to the kitchens and snag a few butterbeers. Then we'll discuss the end of year prank Padfoot and I have been dreaming up. It's going to be brilliant I tell you, just bloody wicked!"

The boys followed Prongs hither to the kitchens. Affectionately enjoying their close bond, the four joined hands as they walked. The pungent aura of male friendship radiated from the group. Loyalty, truth, and honor rested comfortably in the entwined fingers of the mischief-makers.

Give it five years, add Voldemort into the equation, and a bundle of betrayal and lies might spice things up a little. But lets not get ahead of ourselves.

For now at least, the teenagers had each other, a kingdom to rule, and onlookers to impress. And so for the rest of their Hogwarts days, they lived happily ever after.