Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Fwoopers


by BeckyO-Calahan 3 reviews

It's Saturday morning, and Sirius is stuck in the dormitory. Why? Because a certain someone has gone to study, another someone has vacated the premises, and James Potter has stolen all his clothes....

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: G - Genres: Humor - Characters: James, Sirius - Published: 2006-11-11 - Updated: 2006-11-11 - 3315 words - Complete

Thank you to Nom de Plume for beta reading this.


Remus, Sirius decided, is a prat. A great nancing prat who deserves to be lynched.

He glared moodily at the trunk, bearing the name of one R. J. Lupin, which refused to open for him. He snuck his hand around the side of the chest and shook the lock violently, which only resulted in Sirius snatching his hand away as the lock snapped at his fingers.

Who deserves to be shaved, painted green, and then lynched.

Sirius examined his other hand, which had tried sneaking up on the lock earlier and hadn't quite managed to get away in time. The tips of his middle fingers were grazed and swollen and were probably going to become quite infected shortly, and then Remus would feel properly guilty. It would serve him right, locking Sirius out of his trunk like that when they were supposed to be friends.

Of course, Moony had always tried to keep Sirius out of his things. It had just never worked. At least, until this year -- and he knew that this was all James's fault, because the man had given Remus a book of advanced charms last Christmas. That was a shoddy present on all counts, and it's full unpleasantness was now coming to light.

Idiot. I told James to get him a Fwooper.

Sirius gave the trunk a good, swift kick and backed away before it could retaliate.

What a way to spend a morning.

He had woken up late, as usual, and the others had already left for lunch. Remus had taken his book bag and obviously intended to spend the day in the library. There were two whole weeks before the N.E.W.T.'s, for Merlin's sake, and he had been studying for a week before this. It was a shameful way for a Marauder to act, but none of them could talk him out of it.

So he would be gone for several more hours.

Peter would have no reason to come up to the dormitory, unless Sirius gave him one. Sirius eyed Peter's jumble of belongings, which included several choice undergarments, and the window by his bed. If he could somehow direct attention up to the window, all he would need was a long rope... Sirius walked over to the window and opened it, searching the grounds for any sign of Peter.

No. He would solve this some other way. Besides, Peter was far too short for Sirius. Wormtail had grown a full three inches over the year, but Sirius had grown four and been taller to start with. Any article of clothing Peter could possibly provide Sirius with would be swishing about his shins.

That left one choice.

Potter. Who would be either: A) on the Quidditch pitch, and even his underwear flying on the breeze wouldn't pull him away; B) with Lily, and his underwear vanishing would probably be an asset there; or C) in the common room pulling a Remus and -Sirius feared to think it- studying. Lily had been a terrible, terrible influence, but Sirius prayed that this one time James was doing the honest thing and not preparing himself when the exam was only eight hours away.

It would be shameful. It would hurt. But James would help him; James was his friend, someone who had joined him in countless pranks and the corresponding detentions over the years. Who enjoyed a good prank, causing general mayhem, laughing at other people's expense and creating a reason to laugh at others' expense. And who Sirius had called a 'ninny of unusual portions with a feather duster for brains' just the night before.

Oh, bugger. James would love this. Curse him and his stupid, uncontrollable mouth.

Sirius crossed his arms and shivered. There was a northern breeze disturbing this fine summer day, and the fact that he was standing in his dormitory with an open window in naught but his boxer shorts made this the least comfortable way possible to spend a Saturday.


It was an accepted rule that anything on the floor was fair game in the dormitory of a certain quartet of Gryffindor boys. Over the years, clothes had been changed, lost, found, adopted and discarded. By December there was a pile on the floor. By March, the floor was a fond but vague memory. Anything unwanted was usually swept up, either accidentally or on purpose, by someone else at the end of the year.

So why was it, on a day that Sirius was planning on spending outside, the only things he could find lying around was an old sock and a scarf that tried to strangle anyone who put it on?

His trunk was empty. Someone had gotten to all his new robes before him and now they were likely to never be seen again -- which was a shame, because they had been only slightly damaged in the month he'd owned them, and were fairly expensive.

James's trunk was empty, too, and Peter's clothes wouldn't fit him. It would be a far more desperate situation before Sirius Black was seen wandering the halls in robes made for a midget.

So Sirius sucked up his pride and took action.

Sirius snuck down pressed to the edge of staircase, keeping an eye out for anyone passing by. It was a lucky thing he had slept with something on, at least, or the girls of the Gryffindor tower would have seen more than their fair share of Sirius.

He stuck his head around the bend that led to the common room.

Lo and behold, the most beautiful thing Sirius had seen all day. In one of the chairs at the back of the common room sat James Potter, in the company of Lily and only half the Quidditch team. The rest of the room played host to only a few others, and they were all bent over their notes.

"Pst!" Sirius hissed.

James's head shot up.

"Over here!"

This would be a terrible time for McGonagall to walk in, Sirius reflected as James looked everywhere but at him. Sirius sent a nervous glance at the door just in case fate decided to be cruel. No McGonagall in sight, but no Remus and no password to the trunk either.

James's eyes alighted on Sirius's head sticking around the corner. He frowned. "What're you doing?"

"What's the key to Moony's lock? I can't get in and it's rather important." Sirius would not reveal that he was standing in the staircase almost in the buff unless absolutely necessary. At least they're black, he thought, trying to make his boxers cover as much skin as possible, not white or some bloody print. Some sense of machismo was maintained.

"I can't tell you." James bent his head back over his book. Lily's eyes flickered disapprovingly at Sirius, as if it was all his fault that James was missing a full three seconds of study time.


"He made me swear not to tell you." James grinned. "Probably because of the time you got in and mussed up all his potions ingredients."

Oh, Merlin. Sirius could not believe James was betraying him like this. "That was your fault, if you would recall."

"What I recall is you saying all you needed was a Chocolate Frog and me winding up with Essence of Angostura on my glasses."

Lily slid into the chair with James, pointing at the page he was open to. If Sirius didn't get him out of there soon, it would be a lost cause. James looked ready to rip Lily's shirt off right there in the common room, and Lily was not helping as she twined her fingers in his hair. Sirius couldn't tell if she was playing with it or attempting to flatten it down.

"I'll polish your broom for a month."

James didn't even look up. "We only have two weeks of school left, and I wouldn't let you within ten kilometres of my broom."

"I'll polish Lily's broom for month."

"I don't have a broom, and so you really think that he would let you have mine when he won't even give you his to play with?" Lily rolled her eyes and stretched across James's lap. It was time for something drastic before Prongs was lost to feminine wiles.

"Come here. I have to show you something."

"No," said James. He toyed with a few strands of Lily's hair and leaned towards her puckering mouth. No. Sirius would not lose this battle, not until he found some form of clothing. Peter's too-short robes were starting to look good, but he'd come to far to give in now.

Drawing a deep breath, Sirius stepped out of the staircase that was his only protection. "James," he said simply. Calmly. He was not embarrassed in any way. He was casualness itself. He was not blushing like a ten-year-old who had just discovered the word 'brassiere'.

James's head jerked away from Lily. Lily sat bolt upright in their shared chair. The three members of the Quidditch team lounging around them snorted, blushed, or burst into hysterical giggles, depending on their age and gender.

"I'm in a bit of a situation. Now, if you would be so kind, I would like the password to Remus's trunk." Was that someone sighing behind him? Sirius could swear he hear someone sighing with pleasure behind him. Please, let there be no one behind him.

James struggled to control his grin. "It's..." He paused to straighten his face into a sombre mask. "It's 'Sirius Black is a pansy git'."

"No, it's not." Honestly, when had they become so focussed on insulting one another? Every other word was a jibe.

James frowned. "Yes, it is. He told me."

Sirius crossed his arms, then thought better of it and moved his hands rather lower. "Are you doubting me? That's the first thing I tried." Well, second, after 'James Potter is a Quidditch-obsessed freak'. He had been covering all the bases before testing how creative Remus was at passwords. Obviously, the werewolf needed a little training. Correct on the second guess was pathetic.

James's mouth dropped open. "Remus lied! He swore it was the truth and he lied! The dirty little..."

"Clearly, he knows you had a part to play in the Angostura incident."

James ignored him and continued ranting. "He swore on his copy of Hogwarts: A History that it would be a good trick to keep people out of his things."

"Exactly those words?"

"Exactly - oh."

"We'll get him back so good he'll regret ever owning a trunk. But that's for later. Right now, we have a more pressing issue." One of the girls from the Quidditch team had moved around behind him, and now there were two sets of sighs coming from that direction.

"So, go find some clothes." James could be incredibly obvious when he wanted to.

"What, like this?" Sirius gestured to his half-naked self. "Know what's funny?" he said pensively. "I just bought new robes last trip to Diagon Alley. You know, that one that got ripped in the hood when Peter grabbed it and the ones Remus and you wore out at the knees scrubbing the dungeons?"

James shifted his book slightly and subtly moved his hands over the knees of his robes. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said mildly.

Sirius's eyes instantly darted to the faded knees of James's robes. His mouth fell open. "You - you - thief !"

"These are mine!"

"My aunt, they are! Let me see them."


"Prongs, I am standing in the common room in my underpants. If you don't give me those robes, something drastic is going to happen." Sirius narrowed his eyes and left James to think about what he defined as 'drastic'.

James shifted uncomfortably. Lily watched. Sirius glared. He made up his mind in an instant. Dropping both his book and Lily on the ground, he took off for the portrait hole in a fast sprint.

With a shout, Sirius forgot about the state of his clothes and the watching eyes. He dove after James, across the common room and out the entrance, concerned with only one thing.

"Those. Are. Mine!"


"This would all be over if you would just admit it."

James was in a very uncomfortable position, one that several girls in his year would have paid good money for.

He was flat on his back on the cold floor of a corridor -- and the stones used to pave it weren't comfortably designed. This alone would have been a good cause for his trouble, but that wasn't all.

The second contributing factor was the fact that he had Sirius Black perched cross-legged on his chest, wearing only a thin pair of black boxers. He had been so confident that Sirius would never leave the tower in such a state that he had been taken by surprise when Black had tackled him in front of the library and forced him to the ground.

"Gerroff!" James shoved at Sirius's legs with all his might, but he didn't budge.

Sirius shoved James's head roughly out of the way and grabbed the back of the robes. "I know it is!" He dragged the loose fabric around to where James could read the badly sew-on tag. Property of Sirius Black. Keep your mitts off. This mean you, James. "If that doesn't settle it, I don't know what will."

They had attracted a bit of a crowd, but the pair was either completely oblivious or didn't care. They didn't even notice when Remus, coming back from the library early, pushed his way to the front. Seeing the problem, he decided that he would pretend not to know them if this ever came up at a bar in the future, and that if they failed their exams it would be well deserved. He rolled his eyes and pushed his way back out.

A few moments passed in silence, with James refusing to give up the robes and Sirius refusing to move.

"So, you run away from you mother's house, burn all her letters, rip up her photographs, and you still wear the boxers she had made for you?" James said, breaking the quiet.

Sirius blinked. "What?"

"Right there." James manoeuvred a hand to point. "The Black family crest. I didn't know you rich folk monogrammed your drawers."

"What?" Sirius stared at the embellished square of fabric bearing the hated name on the right leg of his boxers. "I never looked before!"

James snorted.

Sirius grabbed the edge of the leg and ripped up and around, until he had a square of black fabric with his family's emblem on it in his palm. "Begone with thee, foul blazon." He tore it into small pieces and scattered it over the floor surrounding them.


McGonagall was heading down to the Great Hall for dinner when a large crowd in the corridor attracted her attention. The sound of her footsteps was enough to get most students to move quickly out of the way, and those who were slower got the full force of her glare and darted to the side.

Once she had made her way the front, she stopped, stared blankly for a moment, then pursed her lips. "What is going on here?"

Black and Potter gave her eerily identical grins. "Nothing, Professor."

"What are you talking about, Professor?"

McGonagall allowed herself a brief inward sigh. "Why, Mr Potter, is Mr Black sitting on your chest, in his unmentionables, in front of the library? Why, Mr Black, are you two not back in you common room, fully clothed and studying for your N.E.W.T.s?"

They exchanged a brief look. Some sort of argument that they thought McGonagall would not notice (involving rolls of the eyes and a gesture she was certain was impolite in some cultures) took place, and Black was identified as the loser when he cleared his throat. "Well, you see, Professor." He paused, then with a manic grin continued, "Potter here stole all of my robes, and he refuses to give them back! Can you imagine it?"

She resisted the urge to massage the bridge of her nose. Honestly, if they did not receive such excellent grades, their frivolity would not be tolerated for a moment. A scene created, children disturbed and her meal delayed, all because Black could not find his robes. "Mr Potter, is this true?"

Potter took a long time to answer. "In a way, Professor."

"Then return Mr Black's robes immediately."

Black's grin grew and he briskly hopped up from his position on Potter's chest. "There you have it, James. Give them up."

James looked from McGonagall to Black and back to McGonagall. "Now, Professor?"

"Yes, Mr Potter. Now."

After a half-hearted glare in Black's direction, Potter gave a resigned sigh. "Yes, Professor."

McGonagall had to forcibly stop her jaw from falling open as Potter pulled his robes over his head, handed them calmly to Black and stood in the hallway in his underclothes awaiting further orders.


"Did you see her face?"

"I thought she was going to have kittens!"

"At least we didn't get a detention."

"What, was she going to punish us for doing what we're told? It's not our fault."

"It is always your fault. Who ran out into public in their underwear? And who proceeded to strip for our Deputy Headmistress?"

"Only at her command, Moony. It's not like we do that sort of thing all the time."


"No, Sirius. Never again."

"I wish I had seen it."

"Ah, Peter, you would have loved it. The sun, the birds, James's smiling heart underpants..."

"They were from Lily!"

"Right, James. And I turn into a cuddly house-pet once a month."

"And then, Peter, the hearts started singing ..."

"You should have brought your camera. How could you have just walked away from that scene, Remus?"

"Because I have a shred of self-consciousness, which doesn't let me stand around while others humiliate themselves."

"We'll fix you yet. Give us time. Hey, James, it's bit chilly out tonight, isn't it?"

James gritted his teeth. "Not at all, Padfoot. It's rather nice today."

"But that metal has to be numbing several important parts of you body right about now."

"That wouldn't be happening if we weren't sitting on the Merlin-blessed roof at bloody midnight on the coldest day in June, now would it?" James crossed his arms over his bare skin. Sirius was laying down next to him, fully clothed and purposely flaunting the fact that the cold shingles didn't effect him in the least while James sat upright, shivering.

Remus was propped against the top of the tower. "It's a fitting punishment, though, for stealing a fellow Marauder's belongings in their hour of need."

"And don't worry, James," Peter said from the other side of Sirius, "tomorrow we'll go down to Hogsmeade and get you a new set of robes. Until then..."

James stretched out his boxers so they covered the most amount of skin. "I don't see why I can't have a blanket, though. If I catch cold and die, it's your fault."

"Hey, we offered you clothes!" Sirius said.

"That scarf and a dirty old sock don't count. Although the scarf is starting to sound good about now. Death by woollen strangulation would be more pleasant than this."

"Cheer up, Prongs. At least the hearts have stopped singing."

James promptly punched Sirius in the stomach, carefully re-balanced himself on the shingled roof, and crossed his arms over his knees. That was the last time he ever gave Remus anything informative for Christmas. The great nancing prat should be lynched for turning presents against dorm-mates.

He was definitely getting him a Fwooper next year.


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