Title: The Gold Book
Authors: Snuffles
Disclaimer: Don't own none of it. Nopes. None.
Author's Notes: I am so, so, soooo sorry. RL (Real life, not Remus Lupin, though he hasn't been helping) has been a bi---, and for a while I doubted I'd ever continue writing. I haven't read an HP story since shortly after the fifth book came out (HOW DARE SHE? :sobs:), school's been hectic, and my dad has disowned me because I'm not Christian. Joy. But, luckily for you all, my darling reviewers (I bow to you!!), a wonderful reviewer that read 'The Diary of Remus J. Lupin' caused a plot bunny to leap out of my screen and go for the jugular. After getting my neck stitched back together by my darling muse, I wrote this chapter. All for you, who have been one of the few things that has kept me from completely loosing it.
MERRY CHRISTMAS/YULE/HANUKKAH/KWANZAA AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
**********************************************************************
"Heeee'sa makin' eh list, an' he's checkin' iiit twiiice." These were the first words I heard on the wintry Christmas morning of my sixth year. I easily recognized the voices that were butchering the Muggle song. James Potter and Sirius Black had started yet another Christmas morning completely and utterly smashed. It was beginning to become a tradition. However, the other two times did not involve them smothering our dorm room with tinsel. The entire room was plastered in the stuff; it blocked the windows, the doors, covered the bed posts, and twisted around a snoring mass that I later found out to be Peter. Even Attila was in the Christmas mood; she too was tinsel covered, and a small Santa's hat was perched on top of her head, little holes cut out for her long ears.
"Gooonnaaaa find out whooo's naughty or nice." Sang Sirius boisterously, half-supported by James, who was swaying to the tune, attempting to seal Peter's wardrobe shut with more tinsel, which had been charmed Gryffindor colors. Sirius had made himself a hula skirt out of similarly colored strands, and, clad only in it and boxers, attempted to stumble my direction. He failed, falling face first into the carpet, where he became enamored by a piece of flint.
"How much have you two had to drink?" I asked, though common sense told me that I'd be much happier not knowing.
"..um.um." James stared at his hands, as if the number would magically appear on them. Knowing him, I'd hardly be surprised if it did.
"NOT ENOUGH!" He cried suddenly, after an in depth study of his life line. He made an amazing leap to his bed, and, after much shuffling and clinking, produced a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky and downed it. Disgusted, I turned and headed for the door, proposing to lock them in until they sobered up.
Damned bloody tinsel. "SIRIUS BLACK! JAMES POTTER! GET THIS TINSEL OFF THE DOOR THIS INSTANT!" So maybe I was a bit harsh.
"MUM HAS COME TO HOGWARTS!" Shrieked Sirius, eyes rapidly bulging. He scrambled for the window, only to be caught in the tinsel like a fly caught in a spider web. James ended up cowering under Peter's bed (he wasn't drunk enough to go under Sirius's, or his own, at least), murmuring something about 'werewolf PMSing' and 'rabid ice weasels.'
"RED RUM! RED RUM!" This was from Peter, who had woken up to blood red tinsel and, well, me. I have no idea what brought 'The Shining' to his mind, but, in our little universe, anything could happen. I took several deep breaths, collected my temper, then glared at the ceiling. "Do you realize." I said, pronouncing each word slowly. ".that this has absolutely no plot, makes no sense, and is driving me mad?" I waited. I could sense the fidgeting. So, oh great authoress was not above anxiety, was she?
"Um." Came the squeak. "I'm.um.kind of hoping that my readers are easily amused."
"So you make us do silly things that are completely out of character, drive us out of our minds, and make us wear nothing but boxers and school girl outfits for the amusement of people that you do not even know?" I demanded, though I knew the answer. "Er.yeah?"
"I'm deeply ashamed of you."
"I'm sorry!!! I didn't mean it to all turn out this way! Don't yell at me!!! I'm SENSITIVE DAMMIT!"
"Fix it."
"What?" Her tone was incredulous.
"I said, fix it. Put us in character. Give us clothing. Get rid of all this bloody tinsel. And do it now."
"But, but."
"I said NOW."
"Yes sir."
Remus Lupin awoke to beams of sunlight tickling his eyelids. He yawned, stretching long limbs, before sitting up. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he scanned the room. His dorm mates were still asleep, as was to be expected. It was Christmas; not even presents were going to get them up early. He smiled for a moment, relishing in the peace and quiet, disturbed only by light snores.
Wait a second.
Where did that stuffed rabbit come from?
FIN.
Authors: Snuffles
Disclaimer: Don't own none of it. Nopes. None.
Author's Notes: I am so, so, soooo sorry. RL (Real life, not Remus Lupin, though he hasn't been helping) has been a bi---, and for a while I doubted I'd ever continue writing. I haven't read an HP story since shortly after the fifth book came out (HOW DARE SHE? :sobs:), school's been hectic, and my dad has disowned me because I'm not Christian. Joy. But, luckily for you all, my darling reviewers (I bow to you!!), a wonderful reviewer that read 'The Diary of Remus J. Lupin' caused a plot bunny to leap out of my screen and go for the jugular. After getting my neck stitched back together by my darling muse, I wrote this chapter. All for you, who have been one of the few things that has kept me from completely loosing it.
MERRY CHRISTMAS/YULE/HANUKKAH/KWANZAA AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
**********************************************************************
"Heeee'sa makin' eh list, an' he's checkin' iiit twiiice." These were the first words I heard on the wintry Christmas morning of my sixth year. I easily recognized the voices that were butchering the Muggle song. James Potter and Sirius Black had started yet another Christmas morning completely and utterly smashed. It was beginning to become a tradition. However, the other two times did not involve them smothering our dorm room with tinsel. The entire room was plastered in the stuff; it blocked the windows, the doors, covered the bed posts, and twisted around a snoring mass that I later found out to be Peter. Even Attila was in the Christmas mood; she too was tinsel covered, and a small Santa's hat was perched on top of her head, little holes cut out for her long ears.
"Gooonnaaaa find out whooo's naughty or nice." Sang Sirius boisterously, half-supported by James, who was swaying to the tune, attempting to seal Peter's wardrobe shut with more tinsel, which had been charmed Gryffindor colors. Sirius had made himself a hula skirt out of similarly colored strands, and, clad only in it and boxers, attempted to stumble my direction. He failed, falling face first into the carpet, where he became enamored by a piece of flint.
"How much have you two had to drink?" I asked, though common sense told me that I'd be much happier not knowing.
"..um.um." James stared at his hands, as if the number would magically appear on them. Knowing him, I'd hardly be surprised if it did.
"NOT ENOUGH!" He cried suddenly, after an in depth study of his life line. He made an amazing leap to his bed, and, after much shuffling and clinking, produced a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky and downed it. Disgusted, I turned and headed for the door, proposing to lock them in until they sobered up.
Damned bloody tinsel. "SIRIUS BLACK! JAMES POTTER! GET THIS TINSEL OFF THE DOOR THIS INSTANT!" So maybe I was a bit harsh.
"MUM HAS COME TO HOGWARTS!" Shrieked Sirius, eyes rapidly bulging. He scrambled for the window, only to be caught in the tinsel like a fly caught in a spider web. James ended up cowering under Peter's bed (he wasn't drunk enough to go under Sirius's, or his own, at least), murmuring something about 'werewolf PMSing' and 'rabid ice weasels.'
"RED RUM! RED RUM!" This was from Peter, who had woken up to blood red tinsel and, well, me. I have no idea what brought 'The Shining' to his mind, but, in our little universe, anything could happen. I took several deep breaths, collected my temper, then glared at the ceiling. "Do you realize." I said, pronouncing each word slowly. ".that this has absolutely no plot, makes no sense, and is driving me mad?" I waited. I could sense the fidgeting. So, oh great authoress was not above anxiety, was she?
"Um." Came the squeak. "I'm.um.kind of hoping that my readers are easily amused."
"So you make us do silly things that are completely out of character, drive us out of our minds, and make us wear nothing but boxers and school girl outfits for the amusement of people that you do not even know?" I demanded, though I knew the answer. "Er.yeah?"
"I'm deeply ashamed of you."
"I'm sorry!!! I didn't mean it to all turn out this way! Don't yell at me!!! I'm SENSITIVE DAMMIT!"
"Fix it."
"What?" Her tone was incredulous.
"I said, fix it. Put us in character. Give us clothing. Get rid of all this bloody tinsel. And do it now."
"But, but."
"I said NOW."
"Yes sir."
Remus Lupin awoke to beams of sunlight tickling his eyelids. He yawned, stretching long limbs, before sitting up. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he scanned the room. His dorm mates were still asleep, as was to be expected. It was Christmas; not even presents were going to get them up early. He smiled for a moment, relishing in the peace and quiet, disturbed only by light snores.
Wait a second.
Where did that stuffed rabbit come from?
FIN.