A/N: This was meant to be for drabble tag ... oops? (:

Also for assignment 9, Sports and Games, Task 9: Write about doing someone else's work/job. (it doesn't say they have to be doing the job well :P)

Thank you to Amber for beta'ing :)

"Gryffindor's gonna win this match, I can feel it!" Sirius says, bounding along beside Remus and Peter like an excited puppy. It's the first match of the season, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw, and there has been talk of little else in the Gryffindor fifth year boys dormitories.

Someone scoffs, and Sirius turns to see a tall boy in Ravenclaw colours rolling his eyes at them.

"Sorry, you got something to say?" he asks, his good mood evaporating.

The boy shrugs. "Only that you're an idiot if you think Gryffindor's gonna beat us."

"Oh, we'll see about that!" Sirius yells after his retreating form.

.oOo.

Ravenclaw had won by five-hundred points, and Kingsley is in the midst of the excited crowd heading back to their common room when he catches sight of the boy from earlier.

"Thought you said Gryffindor were gonna win?" he cannot resist calling over his shoulder.

.oOo.

After that, Sirius views it as a personal challenge.

He is down in the team changing rooms every practice, waiting for the team to stumble in at six-AM every Tuesday and Thursday.

He has obtained a chalk-board, stolen from one of the classrooms and he knows for a fact Professor Binns is still looking for it, but Quidditch is much more important. On it, he's drawn out a detailed — and incredibly complicated — series of maneuvers for the team to try out.

Their seeker takes one look at the board, swears, and walks out, muttering, "It's too early for this. I'm going back to bed," as she does so.

That puts a bit of a damper on Sirius' plans, but he is nothing if not persistent.

McKinnon clears her throat. "Sirius," she says, "a word, please."

"Sure!" Sirius is all too happy to discuss his plans for the team with their captain; she'll likely have some good input to add.

"Look," Marlene says, her voice lowered almost but not quite to the point where the others can't hear her. "I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

This is not what Sirius had been expecting.

"But why?" he asks, the words coming out as more of a whine.

She gestures around the room. "Everyone's tired," she says, "we've already lost both our beaters on account of how you tried to get them to sign a waiver releasing you of all responsibility should they die because of one of your b-s plans." Sirius is willing to admit that may have been a step too far. "And now our seeker's walked off."

"That one's got no dedication," Sirius mutters with a shake of his head.

The look McKinnon gives him is the very definition of 'if looks could kill'. Nostrils flaring, she continues, "I am the team's captain. Not you. You aren't even on the team!"

Sirius purses his lips at that. At the start of the year, McKinnon had told them it was either James or him on the team, but she would not take on both of them. It's still a bit of a sore point.

"But if you'd just —"

McKinnon grabs him by the shoulders and forcibly removes him from the changing room before he can even finish his sentence. James makes absolutely no move to help him.

.oOo.

"We're still gonna win the cup!" a voice yells. The boy from the match. Kingsley has absolutely no idea who he is, or why the boy seems so obsessed with him.

He decides it's best not to engage him in conversation.

.oOo.

McKinnon moves the days and times of Gryffindor Quidditch practice, as if that is all it takes to foil Sirius' plans.

Her shriek when she finds him setting up his three blackboards at 9PM on a Wednesday afternoon is almost worth the trouble it took for him to find out what time they were meeting. Even James — his so-called best friend — had refused to tell him, and he'd even gone so far as to hide the Map from Sirius.

"Good, you're just in time," Sirius says, earning himself a shoe to the face. "I've revised my plans," he continues as if nothing had happened, "and I believe this new gameplay is less likely to result in the deaths of all our beaters."

"Thanks, mate," one of the beaters calls from the corner of the room. Sirius chooses to ignore his sarcasm.

"Potter," McKinnon practically growls. "I thought I made it very clear what would happen to you if you told this idiot what time we're practicing!?"

"It wasn't me!" James squeaks. McKinnon is a terrifying creature when angry, so Sirius won't mock him too much later. Just a little. "He's resourceful," he continues. "A right cunning little bugger. Could've been in Sly—"

McGonagall needs to be called to break up the fight, and all Sirius has achieved is a week's detention and a lifetime ban from the changing rooms.

.oOo.

Kingsley next sees the lunatic boy again, being escorted into the castle along with another Gryffindor by professor McGonagall.

For some unknown reason, he is covered in chalk, and both Gryffindor boys have an impressive array of bruises forming.

"Yeah, that's right!" the boy yells. "Some of us are willing to suffer for our love of Quidditch!"

Kingsley just lowers his head, and speeds up his pace. He's not running away from this obviously unhinged boy, he reasons, he's merely late for Herbology.

"Do be quiet, Mr. Black," he hears Professor McGonagall chiding the boy, "or we'll make it two weeks detention."

.oOo.

McGonagall had conveniently timed his detentions with Quidditch practice. Sirius suspects foul play, though he would never dare to say as much to her face.

But he has completed all of his detentions and he is not about to let a mere ban stop him from helping out his House team.

He had bribed the time of Gryffindor's practice from a third year off the Ravenclaw team, and so an hour before the team is due to arrive Sirius is already waiting in the changing room.

All those detentions had given him plenty of time to form new plans, map out new maneuvers, and he is fairly confident McKinnon will change her mind as soon as she sees the sheer brilliance drawn out in chalk on Sirius' five boards.

Unfortunately, Marlene has brought McGonagall with her. Sirius receives another week's worth of attention, and is forced to watch in increasing horror as McGonagall puts up wards around the changing room door, preventing Sirius from ever entering.

"Well played, McKinnon!" he calls over his shoulder as McGonagall frog-marches him back to the castle.

.oOo.

Kingsley is just leaving the Great Hall after an amazing breakfast when he spots the boy — Black, he thinks Professor McGonagall had called him — being escorted, once again, into the castle by professor McGonagall.

He cannot help the amused snort, but it earns him a smirk from the boy.

Just what Kingsley needs, to engage with the crazy person.

.oOo.

Sirius is stuck, his legs dangling out the window, and his torso hanging limply in the changing room. He has been here for a good forty minutes. Blood is rushing to his head, and he can feel his face heating and turning an unattractive shade of red.

Marlene had been in the changing room for at least ten minutes now, by Sirius' reckoning, and had yet to even acknowledge him, despite Sirius' best efforts.

"C'mon, Marly!" he says, knowing she hates that nickname with a passion. "Have some compassion!"

She hangs her towel over his head.

.oOo.

There's a pair of legs sticking out the window to the changing rooms. If it were anywhere else, Kingsley might have just continued walking, but he is a newly made prefect. He cannot stop and leave someone to spy on people getting changed.

"Alright, that's enough, pervert," he says, poking a leg none-too-gently.

"Knock it off!" the boy shouts, squirming, legs flailing.

Kingsley is about to ask if the boy needs help getting out when a foot hits him squarely in the face. His ears are ringing and stars spot his vision. He can taste blood.

Kingsley decides to leave whoever it is to it; they're someone else's problem now.

.oOo.

They leave Sirius hanging from the window all practice. And no one wants to hear about the creature Sirius had bravely fended off whilst trapped.

"C'mon, guys," Sirius whines, "this isn't funny anymore." He squirms some more, just in case he has somehow managed to loosen the window's grip on him.

"How'd you even get stuck there?" Wilson, one of the beaters, says taking far too much pleasure in Sirius' current predicament.

"Maybe we should cut him some slack," James says. "He's a reasonable guy, I'm sure we can get —"

"He is not a reasonable guy!" McKinnon shrieks. "He has been harassing the team for —"

"Well, I think that's a little harsh," Sirius interrupts. "I was only trying to help." He tries to pull his best I-can-do-no-wrong expression, but he feels the effect is somewhat ruined by him still being upside down and incredibly red in the face. He can see no other possible explanation for why it seems to have no effect whatsoever.

A boy whose name Sirius can never quite remember — Colin or Callum or Michael, something like that — but who Sirius knows is the team's keeper offers him a bottle of water.

"See, look! Kevin likes me!"

"That's not my name," the boy says, and the water is removed from Sirius' reach.

"No, I've had enough!" McKinnon is shouting, still talking to James. "I'm getting McGonagall! Hopefully she'll ban him from matches, too. That'd serve him right," she says as she storms from the room.

"Balls," Sirius mutters, slumping in defeat.

.oOo.

News of Sirius Black getting stuck in the changing room window spreads throughout the castle before Black has even been removed from said window. Kingsley has to admit, the gossips of the castle are incredibly efficient.

He is not at all surprised the legs had belonged to that idiot.

.oOo.

After yet another detention, Sirius enters the fifth year Gryffindor boys dormitories to see words spelled into the air, and his friends all sitting with grim faces staring at him.

"You spelled 'intervention' wrong," Sirius says.

"I did not!" Remus scowls at him. "I know exactly —"

"He's just trying to change the subject," Peter says. "You know he can't spell for shit, you've read most of his essays."

"Well, that was a little uncalled for," Sirius says, affronted. He turns to leave, but Frank is behind him, blocking the door.

"Sit down," Frank says, and Sirius hurries to do so. Frank may still be refusing to return to practice, but he is a damn good beater when he's on the pitch.

"This needs to stop," James says, "for your own good."

"I'm trying to help —"

"Mate, stop. McKinnon is literally going to kill you if you don't leave off," James interrupts, and Sirius has to admit he has a valid point. But Sirius is willing to make sacrifices for his team, even if they are often unappreciated.

"That," he says with as much gravitas as he can muster, "is a risk I am going to have to take."

"Bullshit!" Frank says. "You do realise you're the reason we can't get any practice done!"

"Well, that would require you to actually show up," he says snippily. Remus actually gets up to leave, which Sirius thinks is a bit rude, right up until Frank punches him in the face.

"You tried to kill me!" Frank yells.

"Do," Sirius says, his words coming out thickly, "I daid de ober team mighd."

"You wanted me to sign a waver!"

"I admided dat was doo far!"

"Have you hit him yet?" Remus calls through the door. "I want to come back in."

.oOo.

Kingsley hasn't seen Black in a while. But, more importantly, he hasn't heard tale of his ridiculous shenanigans, either.

And he might just be able to enjoy the Quidditch finals — Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor again — in peace.

.oOo.

A part of Sirius is almost hoping Gryffindor lose this game. He had eventually been forced to stop trying to help the team, after an intervention that had lasted nearly three hours. Honestly, he'd mostly only agreed to get them to shut up and let him sleep. McGonagall did not give easy detentions, and he'd been exhausted.

"C'mon, mate," Remus says, nudging him in the side, "cheer up!"

Sirius does not respond. He's been ignoring Remus ever since he walked out of the room so Frank could punch Sirius. Said something about not wanting to have to give out detentions, but Sirius is still angry.

Peter, with his Gryffindor Quidditch scarf wrapped around most of his face despite the unseasonably warm weather, says a muffled, "he wants you to cheer up." He's been their go-between for the last week.

"Well, you tell him that he can suck my —"

"I can hear you, Sirius," Remus says with a roll of his eyes.

"Sorry," Peter says, "you want him to suck your what? Didn't quite catch that bit."

"I heard him, Peter!"

.oOo.

The mood is much more subdued after this match. Ravenclaw had their first loss of the season, and of course it was on such an important match.

But Sirius Black is ecstatic. Kingsley can hear him, even if he can't actually see him.

.oOo.

Sirius has been telling anyone who will listen how he single-handedly led the Gryffindor Quidditch Team to victory. People are eager to hear the same stories. Stories that are added to each time they're told, exaggerated, the occasional outright lie slipping in whenever the story needs a little more dramatic flair.

McKinnon is the only Gryffindor not pleased with their victory. Her expression sours further each time she spots Sirius amongst the crowd still heading back to the castle. But Sirius will not let her take this moment from him.

And then, there is the Ravenclaw boy who's name Sirius still doesn't know, despite their ongoing rivalry.

"You!" Sirius yells, pointing his index finger at the boy. "You lost our bet!"

"What bet!?" the boy asks. He is a good actor, Sirius will give him that. His expression is pure confusion, but what really sells it is the slight I'm-talking-to-a-crazy-person undertones. Sirius would almost believe the boy has no idea what he's talking about if he didn't know any better.

"Don't try and weasel your way out of it!" Sirius says, shoving aside a gaggle of first years all clamouring for another re-telling of how Sirius saved the Gryffindor Quidditch Team from an epic defeat. "Time to pay up!"

"I honestly have no idea what you are talking about," he says, taking a couple slow steps backwards. Now he's really just taking it too far, Sirius thinks.

"Listen, —" Sirius grimaces. " What was your name again?" he asks.

"What bet?" the boy repeats. Sirius is beginning to wonder if the boy might not actually be lying.

"We made a bet?" he says, but the words come out sounding more like a question. "Pretty sure." He nods. "Yeah. A bet," he says, though it's more an attempt to convince himself at this point. "Didn't we?"

"We did not," the boy says.

"Balls," Sirius mutters under his breath. He'd been trying so hard to win this bet, and he hadn't even formally made the bet in the first place.

"Shacklebolt," the boy says.

"Eh?" is Sirius' articulate response.

"My name," he says. "Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Well, Kingsley," Sirius says, slinging his arm around the boy's shoulder and earning himself a rather irritated look in response. "Wanna make a bet?"