Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Shakespeare.

AN: Here you go, NOW REVIEW BEFORE THE OYSTERS COME!!

Love's Labor's Lost- Act III

Sir Wood was a good man. He was a commander in the British Navy, and very powerful. He was also about as loyal to the king as you could get. He was also in love. A forbidden love. Oh, also, he was horrible at writing. He would always write with a most complicated and fancy script, and even more, when writing to the king, his letters were FILLED with flattery of all sorts. But that's getting off topic. Now, where were we? Ah, right, his forbidden love.

As Sir Wood was in the king's court, he was not allowed to see women for three years. That, he could deal with; he was not dear old Sirius Black, who needed a new, one-night stand every night. No, that was not him.

But, what he could not deal with, was that sultry little girl, Mary MacDonald, her name. She was so flirtatious, Sir Wood hated it. It wasn't what you think. He was in love. His heart stopped beating as he saw her. And furthermore, she was HOT!! He could bear it if she wasn't, but she was! She was like a magnet who drew him in, closer and closer. He could not resist.

So, he ended up breaking the contract (as if the king wasn't!), and writing a letter to Mary.

Sir Wood, and his somewhat-insane personal assistant, Candy Chang, entered the courtyard, before Sir Wood decided to speak.

"Chang! Listen up, and listen well."

"Of course," she said dreamily, staring at the window to the king's office.

"Go bring that clown! I need him to deliver a letter to my love!"

"Who, King James?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said that he was to deliver a letter to my love."

"Yes, that's Mary-"

"No! You said my love! And…"

"You have it completely wrong."

"I LOVE JAMES POTTER!!"

"Right…"

"Well, anyways, will you win your love with a French brawl?"

"Meaning? Arguing in French?"

"No; a French brawl is to sing a song, dance a jig with it, sigh a note, eat a rabbit…"

Here Sir Wood stopped listening. Everyone knew that Candy Chang wasn't completely right in the head.

"All while turning your eyelids inside out."

"Have you tried this before?"

"Yes! It's the most fun, EVER!! I have used it to woo the king on several occasions, and I think he enjoyed it. He even hired several men in black suits to escort me off the premises!"

"Okay…"

"Have you forgotten your 'hobby-horse' already?"

"You call the love of my life a 'hobby-horse'?!"

Oops. I mean… But have you already forgotten your love?"

"Though it's hard to say, yes, almost."

"Negligent! You must learn of her!"

"And how would you know about this, you have almost no experience."

"Hello? Girl!"

"Well, anything that I must do?"

"I must know if you truly love her!"

"How?"

"If you love her with all your heart, by hear tyou love her, because your heart cannot near her, in heart you love her, because your heart is in love with her, and out of hear tyou love her, being out of hear that you cannot enjoy her."

"This all implies to me!"

"They all imply to my love for James! I LOE JAMES POTTER!!"

"Well, anyways, go get the clown, I need him to send the message!"

"That sure shows her you love her! Sending a horse to deliver a letter of an ass."

"Do you want an execution?"

"No, sir."

"Then leave!"

"Right."

While she was leaving, Sir Wood heard Candy muttering about how she wished there was an 'I Love James Potter' store.

"I wish there was an 'I Love Mary' store."

So, Sir Wood just stood there, in awkward silence, until Candy came back, dragging Peter.

"Here you go! Now, I may get back to daydreaming about the king!"

So, Sir Wood turned to Peter.

Peter looked up, with a horrible set of puppy dog eyes. "Please, please, this is torture, please let me loose!"

"I will set you free, total liberty. On one condition. Bear this letter," Sir Wood held out his letter, "to the fair country maid, Mary. There will also be a tip involved."

At this, Peter perked up. "Of course, of course! I will!"

"Here, take much care of this," Sir Wood said, handing over the letter. "I must go, Candy, come."

Sir Wood left, Candy following on his heels.

Peter looked around, and seeing no one was there, he looked greedily at the coins in his hand. "Now I think I shall inspect his tip. Tips! Money! Remuneration! That's the Latin word for sickles, three sickles- remuneration. Remuneration! Why, it is fairer a name than the French crown! I will always adore this word.

Here, Sirius entered, laughing, as he had heard Peter's monologue.

"Why, Pettigrew, that was a very interesting speech."

"Thank you!"

"Well, it is good meeting you."

"Well, may I ask you; how much ribbon may a person buy for a remuneration?"

"And what is a remuneration?"

"Three sickles!"

"Then, three sickles worth of silk."

"I thank you for your help!"

Sirius chuckled at Peter's incompetence. Peter made a motion to leave, but Sirius stopped him. "Stay, Pettigrew. I must ask for your help. If you want my favor, then there is one thing you must do for me."

"When would I have to do it?"

"This afternoon."

"Well then, I will do it."

"But, you have no clue what it is. It could be kissing me, for all you know!"

"I'll do that sir!"

"Okay…" Sirius stuttered, backing away.

"But, anyways, I will know what it is when I have done it."

"But, to do it, you must know what it is, first."

"Very well, what is it?"

"The princess comes to read, here in the park, and in her train, there is a most beauteous lady-"

"Amos Diggory? He is quite beauteous."

"Um… he's a he. Well, her name is Marlene, the most beautiful name I have ever heard. And to her fair white hand, hand her this letter. Guard it with your life."

Here, Peter was handed a letter, and a galleon.

"Galleon! Sweet galleon! This is better than three sickles! Sickles! Galleon! This is my lucky day!"

Peter left, muttering to himself about the joys of money.

This left Sirius, who was muttering to himself about the joys of Marlene.

"I'm in love! I have been whipped by love, though. Marlene, that sole perpetrator of my heart, walks all over me…"

Sirius wandered off, ranting on and on about Marlene, as Lockhart walked in, that wretched mirror still in his hand.

"Damn those bangs. They're always off by a whole millimeter! How am I ever going to win the best looking constable of King James of England's court award this year, if those damn bangs are always off? Damnit!"

And he wandered off.

AN: Then the oysters waddled on. They found everyone who read this story, but didn't review, and shot them down with their evil bazookas of doom! MUA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!! I'M EVIL! EVIL, I SAY!! Again, been hanging out with Sirius too much.