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tmae3114 · 7 years

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What’s this? A new fic from me for the first time in nine months? Yes it is! ...aaaand it’s not DF or MQ. Whoops.

There are DF & MQ fics in the works, I promise, but I’ve been putting off posting this since about late September (though it was originally written in early September) because I wanted to finish one of them before posting this and I... really don’t wanna put off posting this anymore.

So! Here’s my first fic for Dice Camera Action! First and definitely not going to be the last. Fic-inspiring fandoms are so rare for me and I’m so ecstatic to have found another one! :D

So, uh, enjoy! :D

Auld Lang Syne

AO3

"You just get this sudden flash of familiarity. The lines of the wagon, the colours of the wagon… this is all something from your childhood.” “She says that this wagon seems somewhat familiar to her as well, like she’s seen it before as a child,”

Or: Strix recognised that wagon too.

Paultin is sitting on the edge of the bench, practicing his letters, when his father enters the wagon. He’s cradling a small bundle tightly swaddled in cloth in his arms and it takes less than an instant for Paultin to decide that that is far more interesting that trying to remember which was ‘b’ goes and which way ‘d’ goes. He drops his pencil, which roles into the middle of his writing book, and points at the bundle.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Something very special that we need to take somewhere else,” his father says, closing the door behind him by hooking a foot around the edge to pull it closed without moving his arms.

As he moves further in after doing so, the bundle moves, like something inside of it is wriggling.

“Why’s it moving?” Paultin asks, shoving his letters book off of his lap with little care as to how it lands and scrambling across the bench to where his father is now standing, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Is it something alive?”

He leans up onto his tiptoes and grabs his father’s shoulder, trying to lean over and look at what the bundle is. His father laughs, well used to his clambering, and simply adjusts his stance and grip so that he won’t drop the bundle and Paultin won’t fall off. The child in question simply takes advantage of this newfound stability to stick an arm down to try and move some of the cloth. His reach isn’t quite long enough, though, so he just ends up with one arm dangling down towards it.

The bundle wriggles again and then, to Paultin’s immense surprise and delight and his father’s amusement, a small hand works its way out of the cloth and knocks a loosely draped one out of the way, revealing a face.

It’s a baby, Paultin realises, staring downwards, mouth dropping open a little bit. It’s a little bigger than most babies and might actually be almost a toddler maybe but his first thought was baby so he’s going to call it a baby.

The baby is staring right back at him, eyes wide and mouth open in a little ‘o’ shape. There’s a mop of messy black hair on its head, really thick and starting to fall down by pointy ears, with two little horns poking out of it, and its skin is very pale and looks almost greyish. The eyes meeting his own and almost exactly mirroring his expression are almost solidly milky white.

The baby’s little ‘o’ of a mouth then splits into a wide shape that he thinks is what a smile looks like on a baby, makes a weird babbling ‘hcha’ noise, and wriggles even more, the one free hand flailing a bit. He can’t quite stop himself from grinning back.

And then the free hand shoots upwards and grabs one of his dangling fingers.

“…oh,” says Paultin, blinking down at the baby, who is staring straight at him and tugging on his finger a little bit “…hello,”

The grip on his finger tightens a little, and then the baby lets go. Its face starts to screw up a little bit and Paultin feels his father tense a little. He’s just about to ask what’s happening – is something wrong? – when the baby inhales deeply and starts to wail.

“Why does she always cry so much?” Paultin asks his mother, three days later. The baby is fast asleep, curled up under the blankets she arrived swaddled in, quiet for what seems to him to be almost the first time she started wailing when she got here. He has to be careful with swinging his legs while he sits on the stool, because if he kicks anything it’ll make a bang and wake her.

“Because it’s the best way she has to tell anyone when she needs things,” his mother replies in a whisper, giving him a quick gesture to lower his own volume, then submerging the cloth in her hand into the bowl of water she just warmed.

“Why?” Paultin asks, his whisper a little louder than hers because he hasn’t entirely figured out whispering yet. He has to stop swinging his legs when she crouches down in front of him so that he won’t accidentally kick her.

“Because she doesn’t know how to really talk yet,” she says, gently tipped his chin up and starting to dab at his face with the cloth.

“But she can talk!” he protests, forgetting his volume for a moment, making them both freeze and throw a glance to the side. The baby is still asleep, blessedly.

“She can talk,” he continues, back to whispering, tilting his head as she directs “I’ve heard her and so’ve you!”

The baby has held up grabby hands and demanded “up, up, up!” far too many times for him to think that she doesn’t know what sounds mean.

“She only knows a few words so far, Paultin,” she says, wiping at a particularly stubborn bit of muck a little bit harder, which feels weird.

“…so she’ll stop crying if she learns more words?”

She laughs, quietly, and gently wipes the last of the blood away from under his nose.

“We can but hope, Paultin,” she says, ruffling his hair with her free hand, then standing to walk back over to the bowl and rinse the cloth off.

He kicks his legs again now that she’s not in front of him and looks longingly to the door, mind already moving off of the subject at the lure of the light outside and the sound of other children laughing. They’re in a new place now which means new things to explore and he wants to be back out there.

“Can I go out again?” he asks, already leaning towards the door as though to bolt, seemingly closing the subject of the baby and crying.

“As long as you’re careful not to get another bloody nose,” his mother says, smiling softly.

He chirps out a promise and hops down from the stool, eager to get back to running around and exploring and playing pretend.

That night, both his parents watch in amusement as he puts object after object in front of the now-awake baby, forcefully pointing to each and repeating their name, over and over and over.

The baby watches with rapt attention, one hand shoved in her mouth, head mimicking the movement of his arms, and occasionally mimicking sounds.

It doesn’t really work.

“Where’re we going this time?” Paultin asks, trying to squeeze up on the seat at the front of the wagon with his mother. She chuckles fondly at his repeated failures and picks him up, settling him in her lap.

“Wherever the road takes us,” she says, letting him squirm up between her arms to hold the part of the reins that falls between where she’s holding them.

He tilts his head up as far as he can to try and look at her face without moving the rest of his body and sticks his tongue out.

“You always say that,” he says.

“It’s always true,” she replies, leaning over so that he can actually see her face and sticking her tongue out right back at him. He can’t quite help giggling.

Then he rolls his head from side to side slight, the closest to shaking his head that he can manage with it tilted back like it is. His hair rubs against her clothes and starts to go flyaway with static.

“I meant about the baby,” he says, blinking upwards “Where’re we taking her?”

“The City of Doors, though not just yet,” his mother replies.

“When then?” he asks.

“When she’s old enough that she’ll have a chance,” she replies, releasing the reins in one hand to ruffle his hair and then gently taking the part of the reins that he’s holding from his grip. “Inside with you now, sweetheart. We’ve got to head off soon,”

Paultin pouts but does as he’s told, slipping off of her lap and clambering to the ground.

About a week later, while they’ve all stopped for the night, Paultin’s voice trails off towards the end of a song he’s singing with his mother as he glances at the baby bouncing on his father’s knee, his brow furrowed in a way that almost looks comical on as young a face as his.

When his mother finishes the song and there is some quiet, he speaks up.

“Does she have a name?” he asks, head tilting to the side as he watches. He kinda misses being small enough to be bounced like that. It was fun.

“Only her birth family knows it, if she does,” his mother says, sounding a little sad.

Paultin’s furrowed brows become a thoughtful frown.

“We should give her a name then,” he says “We can’t just keep calling her ‘the baby’. Everyone should have a name,”

His parents exchange a glance and several head tilts, his mother also tossing a few quick hand signs that his father can’t return because he’s balancing a baby on his leg; an unspoken conversation that almost completely passes him by – he caught a few of the hand signs, but mostly just ‘he’ which doesn’t help much – and then his mother smiles at him.

“Okay,” she says, ruffling his hair despite squawking protests “Any ideas?”

“…no,” he admits. And then, face steeling into determination “But I’ll think of some!”

The baby is crying again and food hasn’t done anything and she doesn’t need changed and she isn’t tired and doesn’t seem to want to be sung to and it’s really starting to annoy him. It’s really hard to think about anything when a baby is crying and also he really wants to sleep.

He goes over to where his father is rocking her in his arms, singing a soft tune to try and calm her, his mother rubbing a temple and seemingly having given up on singing herself.

He leans over, points at her face, and goes “Stop it,” in his best Stern Voice.

The baby’s cries abruptly cut off with a sound vaguely like a hiccup and she stares at the finger in front of her face with slightly cross-eyed wonder. Then she follows the finger up the arm it belongs to and looks at his face. And then she giggles.

“Well, would you look at that,” his father says, almost sounding relieved beyond words. His mother just lets out a massive sigh, which sounds actually relieved beyond words.

Paultin, for his part, just looks at the pacified baby, looks at his hand, and then goes “…huh,”

He tells of this accomplishment quite proudly to the other children the next day. They’d all noticed the waxing and waning bags under his eyes ages ago and he’d gladly whinged to them when explaining why he had them – “The baby just won’t. stop. crying,” – so he feels very cool when they all ‘oooh’ appropriately in response to his having managed to calm her down, the ones with younger siblings especially.

He just kinda hopes it wasn’t a one-off thing. It’d be lame to get to boast about it and then never be able to do it again.

Eventually, he thinks of a good name.

He tugs on his father’s arm, getting him to crouch down. Paultin puts his hands gently on the sides of the baby’s face, looking her dead in the eyes. She doesn’t seem to particularly sense the gravitas that he’s going for, given the fact that she shoves a hand in her mouth and starts sucking on it.

“Your name is Strix now,” Paultin informs her, voice grave.

The newly christened Strix just keeps sucking on her hand, staring at his face. Then she reaches out the other hand and puts it on one side of his face, mirroring what he’s doing.

Then she pulls his hair.

Paultin has a feeling that he can’t call Strix a baby anymore, even in his head, when he spots her trying to figure out walking, pulling herself along the bench with her tail flicking from side to side as though to help her keep her balance. He’s pretty sure that it’s too thin to actually help her with that but he’s also not the one with a tail, so he’s not sure if it’s doing anything for her or not.

She doesn’t manage to stay upright very long and starts crying – again – when she falls. He sighs and goes over to pat her on the shoulder and sing a song to make her stop.

Then he takes her hands and gets her back onto her feet.

“C’mon, you’ll figure it out,” he says “and I’ll be way better help than a bench,”

Once Strix figures out walking, she’s insatiably curious. Nothing is safe from her grabbing hands and newly discovered ability to open drawers. Most things she just assigns a name of her own to, rather than asking anyone what it’s called, which Paultin thinks is kind of adorable, though he won’t tell anyone that. A few times she almost falls, or does fall, into drawers trying to reach something at the very back that caught her attention, which Paultin thinks is hilarious, though he also won’t tell anyone that, because he’d probably get into trouble.

It becomes a lot less adorable and funny when she finds something that she really shouldn’t touch though.

“Don’t touch that!” he shrieks, swatting the puppet out of her grip and then pulling her all the way to the other side of the wagon, holding on tightly to stop her trying to go back over to it. Strix, as always, starts wailing.

The sounds draw his father inside in concern. He takes one look at the situation and seems to know exactly what happened. He picks up the effigy of Strahd and puts it away, this time in a drawer much higher up than Strix had managed to pull it out of that she definitely can’t reach, and sets about soothing the crying toddler and calming his panicking son.

“Strix, c’mon,” he wheedles “You’re gonna be fine,”

She looks doubtful and shakes her head, making a whining sound as she does so. Her legs swing over the side of the wagon, her fingers clutching the edge of the step by the door that she’s sitting on.

“But you wanted to come outside,” he says, holding his arms up a little higher to try and coax her down “and you’re too little to get down on your own,”

She shakes her head again, harder this time.

“No,” she says “No, no, no,”

He sighs and lowers his arms.

“Okay, back inside then,” he says, conceding defeat and gesturing for her to move so that he can come back inside himself.

“No!”

He sighs again, louder and more exasperatedly this time.

“Make up your miiiiind!” he whines, dropping his head forwards so that his forehead clonks against the side of the wagon, just next to the door that Strix is sitting in.

“Want out,” she insists, and then points at him “But no,”

“You’re not making any sense,” he continues whining, wishing he hadn’t been asked to watch her alone this afternoon. He can do it but she’s not making it easy.

Strix makes a noise that he’s pretty sure is her being exasperated at him not getting it, which is so not fair when she’s the one not making any sense.

Hands shove against his shoulder and he tilts his head to the side slightly, cracking open an eye to look at her.

“Move,” Strix demands, her expression something like a determined pout.

He sighs and takes a few steps back. She waves with both hands to indicate farther. He takes a few more. She nods sharply.

“Not too little,” she says, and then shoves herself off the side, landing in the mud on her hands and feet.

His first reaction is panic because if she got hurt on my watch I’m going to be in so much trouble! which only gets worse when Strix doesn’t immediately get up. The fact that she isn’t crying yet is maybe a good thing but now he’s scared that maybe she’s too hurt to cry-

Before he can do much more than get closer to check if she’s okay, though, she rockets up, her hands cradling a massive clump of mud, and declares “Bug!”

And then there’s a beetle at least the size of one of his eyeballs in his face.

“Cool,” he breathes, panic fading to a grin now that he knows she’s definitely okay “Are there more?”

“She’s a lot better at talking but she still cries a lot,” Paultin says to his mother that night, as a recently de-mudded Strix dozes off. He’s only recently clean himself and neither of them have any regrets about how muddy they got. They found a lot of cool bugs.

His mother laughs a little.

“Some people are just criers, I suppose,” she says in reply, ushering him towards his own bed. “She might grow out of it with more time,”

“She’s good at walking and running now too,” he says, fiddling with his covers.

“…yes, she is,” she says, starting to look a little worried, as though she can tell where this conversation is going.

He fiddles even more with his covers, bunching the blankets around his hands, and then, quietly but not whispering:

“We’re going to that City of Doors place soon, aren’t we?”

She sighs and then gently tugs the blankets out of his hands, rearranging them around him for sleep, and strokes the hair out of his face.

“Yes, we’ll be heading to Sigil soon,” she says.

Paultin nods, uncharacteristically sombre for his age. He’d expected the answer to be that.

“…I’m gonna miss her,” he confesses.

“I think we all will,” his mother replies, gently kissing his forehead. “But we’ve got time yet. And now is time for sleep,”

He wants to protest that he’s not tired yet, but his own massive yawn interrupts him.

The trip to Sigil seems to take both forever and no time at all. It’s like it drags on and on and on but is also over within a blink. It’s weird and he doesn’t like it.

But it isn’t until Strix is once again bundled up, almost like she was when his father first brought her back, though she’s bigger now and the way the fabric is wrapped is more like a weird poncho-cloak hybrid than swaddling, that it hits Paultin that this is really it. This is the end of her travelling with them. This is it over. They’ve brought her to where they needed to bring her and now she’ll be coming no further.

He’s not used to goodbyes being this permanent.

As his mother starts to leave the wagon, Strix in her arms, he realises that he’s forgotten something important.

“Wait!” he blurts, just as they step out the door.

He scrambles to a chest, digging through it until he comes back up with a quill and a bottle of ink. Then he dashes over to the door with them in hand and leans out. He pulls some of the cloth loose and lifts Strix’s arm up. The toddler just blinks at him curiously, while his mother smiles fondly when she realises what he’s doing.

Carefully, very, very carefully, far neater than he could’ve managed when his father first came home with a baby though still very scrawly, Paultin writes a series of letters on her arm.

S followed by T followed by R, oh-so-carefully the right way around, followed by I, somewhat messily dotted, followed by X.

“There,” Paultin says, satisfied with his work as he pulls back. “Now whoever she’s with after us will know what her name is,”

As they leave Sigil, the wagon feels a lot quieter and emptier.

“She’s gonna be okay, right?” Paultin asks, fiddling with the quill, running the soft parts of it over his fingers over and over. The question sounds incredibly loud, even though he’s only barely not whispering.

There’s a pause, a hesitation, and then an almost completely believable “Of course she is,”

He’s old enough to know that that might not be true but also young enough that he wants to believe everything he’s told, so he just nods and accepts it.

“D’you think we’ll ever see her again?” he asks.

“You never know,” is the reply that he gets, along with a ruffle of his hair “Maybe you will when you’re both older, if she decides to travel too, or if you come back to Sigil,”

He kicks his legs against the bench, looks thoughtful for a second, and then starts “If we do meet again when we’re older…”

He sucks a cheek between his teeth for a moment, as though deciding whether or not he should say what he’s about to say. Then he makes up his mind and grins as cheekily as he can.

“…I hope that she cries less by then,”

It almost feels weird to be posting fic again, tbh. I haven’t really been consistent with any since early 2016. I’ve honestly really missed it but I just haven’t had the motivation or inspiration for anything that I’d want to post - I’ve been writing though, don’t worry! I’ve made a whole lot of progress on my book. I’m very excited about that.

Brief notes on this fic:

it’s been revealed since I originally wrote this that the ‘Strix’ written on Strix’s arm when she was little was likely a misreading of ‘Skizzix’. But it was too integrated a thing in this so I didn’t bother changing it

I love forgotten childhood meetings. I love them so much. So of course I couldn’t ignore it when DCA gave me the perfect chance

I tried really hard to make Strix and Paultin both feel like themselves and be, well, children who have yet to go through severe trauma. I hope I managed and would really appreciate any feedback on characterisation

yes, this fic has nothing at all to do with New Year’s. yes, the title is still Auld Lang Syne. If I wanna give a fic a pretentious poetic title in Scots, then I will, regardless of whatever cultural connotations the phrase my have thanks to beauitful poetry set to music. And “days gone by” is a fitting title for this, you’ve gotta admit. (okay yes the literal translation is “Old Long Since” but Sometimes You’ve Gotta Be Idiomatic)

#Dice Camera Action #Paultin Seppa #Strix #DCA fanfic #...that's a tag now #I can't wait to watch that fill up #I HAVEN'T POSTED FIC TO A NEW FANDOM IN /FOUR YEARS/ I'M SO NERVOUS

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belgian-quaffle · 6 years

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the week of unknown pranks

Monday, 8:52 am

"Why do you look so happy?" Dorcas Meadows, secretory extraordinaire, snaps her gum as James Potter approaches, stopping to hang his coat at the rack near her desk.

James puts on his most innocent grin. "I have no idea what you're talking about,"

Dorcas, or Dee, as the friendly secretary often went by, catches on immediately, used to the antics of the office at this point. "Did you prank Snivellus today?"

"Dee!" Sirius Black, James' best friend and partner in crime, steps up behind him, and sends his typical flirtatious grin toward the girl in front of him. As usual, she doesn't react. "How dare you accuse us of such a thing?"

The side of James mouth curls up in a mischievous grin. "You know that the answer is yes,"

Dorcas peers up over the edge of her tall desk toward the cluster of desks shared by James, Sirius, and Severus Snape-nicknamed Snivellus by the two and rarely called otherwise-and widens her eyes interestedly. "Oh, good work, boys! He's not in yet; you have some time to settle your alibis,"

Sirius frowns. "What are you talking about? We haven't done ours yet!"

"Look at his keyboard!" Dorcas throws her hand over in that general direction. "And you'll tell me you didn't do that,"

James and Sirius follow her hand to see the short, yellow, tentacle-like projections that are the tell-tale signs of freshly sprouted Flitterbloom growing out of Snivellus' keyboard.

"We didn't do that," James says, looking around, his eyes wide.

"Yeah, ok," Dorcas grins knowingly.

"That wasn't us!" Sirius protests.

She looks between the two of them, just as confused and amazed as the Pranksters. "Then who was it?"

James frowns, his search around them yielding nothing. "I don't know Dee, but I'm going to find out,"

Confessional: James Potter and Sirius Black

"Just go? Alright, name's James Potter. I've worked here at Dumbledore-Flamel Parchment for...Merlin, five years now," He stares straight ahead and finishes with a dead pan. "and every day is a gift,"

"Excuse you," Sirius turns in his seat next to James and glares. "Every moment you spend with me is a gift,"

James looks directly ahead again. "Do you see what I mean?"

Monday, 9:24 am

James is at the water cooler when the shout comes. "POTTER!"

He pulls himself away from trying to decide if the redhead on the other side of the room got a haircut in favor of smiling brightly at the dark-haired man in front of him. "Snivelllus! Good morning! Have a good weekend?"

Sirius snickers at his desk, lounging back casually in his chair. "Get a good lie in?" From both his tone and the smirk on his face, he had gotten a good lie in this weekend, to use the term they'd coined way back when, whenever one of them got lucky. Usually, it got a rise out of Snivellus from the tone alone, unsure why they were always asking him about sleeping late with such grins on their faces.

Today though, there was nowhere to rise. Snivellus' face was already red and blotchy and he glared at James ferociously. "POTTER!" He repeated. "What did you do?"

"Not too much so far," James shrugs, walking back over to their desk cluster. "Server's running slow today so by the time I logged on, I've really only had time to check my e-mail. Benjy's sent another chain."

"Did he?" Sirius leans forward excitedly, clicking around with his mouse to look for the email. "How are we dying this week?"

"A child named Clarissa escaped from Azkaban and is going to track us all to our rooms at night," James grins.

"POTTER!" Snivellus roars again. "What did you do to my computer?"

"Oh!" James shrugs as he sits down, reaching out for his tea. "Dunno, Snivellus, wasn't us," He blows casually on his mug.

"Right," Snivellus returns snidely. "And our next product will be edible parchment,"

"That's the best idea you've ever had, Snivelly," Sirius beams. "Imagine, cotton candy parchment!"

James' eyes light up. "Notes you send in class that you could actually eat when you got caught!"

"POTTER!"

"Ugh," Sirius shakes his head. "Must you be so loud, Snivellus? This is an office,"

"People are working," James adds.

Snivellus' next response is cut off by the arrival of their boss, Albus Dumbledore, the eccentric head of the company, Dumbledore-Flamel Parchment Company. He looks at the three of them with mild interest, addressing his employee's rage with the same mild-mannered tone he would use to ask about his weekend. "Severus. What seems to be the problem?"

Dumbledore's presence alone tempers Snivellus' glare as he answers. "Potter messed with my computer again,"

James bites his lip hesitantly as Dumbledore appraises the situation in front of him, but it seems there's nothing to worry about. "It seems to me that Mr. Potter has merely created you a lovely garden for the workplace, but if it bothers you so, Severus, then," He waves his wand to vanish the blooming plant...only for more buds to appear. Snivellus makes a noise of annoyance, but Dumbledore gets a twinkle in his eyes. "Well it seems you'll have a garden anyway, Severus," He conjures up a new keyboard, placing it alongside the blooming one on the desk. "Perhaps the three of you can work out a watering schedule,"

"Can't," Sirius holds both thumbs up. "Black thumbs," He grins and then he and James burst into laughter.

Confessional: Severus Snape

"Potter can say whatever he wants," Severus narrows his eyes. "But some of us are more focused on doing our actual sales work so that we don't have time for such childish nonsense to make sure our egos get their fill. I think you'll find the numbers speak for themselves." He leans back in the chair with a satisfied smirk on his face.

Monday 12:57 pm

"Ok, but did you have to antagonize him so much," Remus Lupin sighs, pulling out one of the breakroom chairs to sit.

"Moony!" Sirius gasps. "How dare you ask such a question. Antagonize is my middle name!"

"Just ask his mother," James snickers.

"You didn't even do it! All I'm saying was, you could have left this one alone a little,"

"It's like he doesn't even know us!" Sirius says dramatically.

"And we call him a brother," James agrees.

Remus bites back another sigh. As the Human Resources Representative, he often felt conflicted, torn between his two best friends and the consequences of the pranks they pulled. "Well, what happened to your prank?"

"Oh, we scrapped that," Sirius waves off his comment.

"You should see the look on Snivellus' face every time he looks up and sees the Flitterblooms," James beams.

"Remember, if he kills you, I have to do the paperwork, so at least try and be nice to him today," Remus knows a lost cause when he sees one.

"Well it's not like you'll have anything else to do if we croak," Sirius says bluntly.

"The extra paperwork can keep you busy!" James teases.

"It's time to find new friends," Remus rubs his temples.

"I've been telling you that for years," The arrival of the blonde and red head has all three looking up from their lunches. Marlene McKinnon, the blonde, was the sassy Director of Customer Service for Dumbledore-Flamel, and was a longtime friend of the boys, particularly James, with whom she'd grown up because of their parents being friends. The red head, Lily Evans, was a more recent addition to the company, though Marlene had quickly taken her under her wing.

"Oi!" James protests, sliding his chair over to make room for the girls. "Offense!"

"Tough," Marlene shrugs, slipping into the seat next to him. "So, how'd you do it?"

"We didn't," Sirius says flatly.

She gives him a look. "Uh huh, okay, and I didn't order an Elphias Doge bag online this morning when I should have been going through the customer complaints,"

"Marlene!" Lily gasps.

"What am I supposed to do this afternoon, Lily?"

"Marley, it wasn't us!" James protests.

Marlene's blue eyes narrow as she stares him down. "Well who the fuck else is pranking Snivelly?"

"Our new hero," Sirius returns solemnly.

Confessional: Marlene McKinnon and Lily Evans

"Lily started here, I'd say 4 months ago?" Marlene looks over at her friend for confirmation. "And let me tell you, it's been great finally having another woman at the office,"

"Marlene!" Lily shakes her head. "There are three other women in the office besides us!"

"Women that I like," Marlene clarifies.

"So honored," Lily says. "The one woman she likes,"

"Only person, on some days,"

"You're the head of customer service!" Lily cries.

"What's your point, Lily?"

"It's in your job to like people!"

Marlene shakes her head and scrunches up her nose. "Silly Lily,"

Tuesday, 9:03 am

"Unbelievable," Sirius gasps, staring in front of them at Snivellus' desk, which along with his chair and everything he owned, was wrapped in Christmas paper. "Are you doing this without me?" He pouts.

"We live together!" James says incredulously.

"Well I don't know what you get up to at night," Sirius sniffs haughtily. "It's six to eight whole hours apart."

"Whatever do you do with yourself," James says dryly, approaching the desk with care to examine the work in front of them. "You think Moony is pranking without us?" He adds, feeling hurt even as the words leave his mouth.

"He would never!" Sirius says adamantly. "Mostly because his conscious wouldn't let him. But also, this wrap job is too perfect to be his,"

Which, fair point.

"Foiled again," James mutters.

Snivellus is enraged when he enters to find his entire workspace wrapped in Christmas paper, and more so when many of his office supplies are inside boxes upon boxes that take him ages to open. It's mid-morning before he has the whole thing unwrapped and he glowers at James and Sirius the entire time.

James' admiration for the mysterious prankster grows.

Confessional: James Potter and Sirius Black

"So, we've come up with a list," Sirius says, rather seriously.

"Except we've already eliminated everyone from it," James holds up a piece of parchment (from DF's new, brightly colored line) with a bunch of names, all scratched through with dark lines.

Sirius' eyes narrow. "All our suspects either didn't have the means to do it or they're just not bright enough,"

"No offense, Pete," James adds. "We know you try, but..."

They shrug simultaneously, matching expressions showing off just how sorry they truly weren't.

Tuesday, 2:37 pm

"...and if we are all VIGILANT with our orders," Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody barks during the office's weekly roundup, eyes wild as he looks around the room at them all. "Then we won't have any of the shit that happened last week with the Hogwarts school order!" He pauses, just long enough for everyone to settle in their seats, so they all jump when he shouts, "CONSTANT VIGLIANCE!"

"Thank you, Mad-Eye," Albus fights back an amused smile.

"Has he finally lost it?" Sirius mutters to James.

"He lost it a long time ago," James whispers back.

"Next, we'll hear from our office manager with an update from around the office," Albus smiles pleasantly. "Miss Evans?"

"Remind me?" Peter Pettigrew, from accounting, leans over. "Exactly what's an office manager?"

"She manages the office, you blithering idiot," Snivellus snaps, overhearing the question and adding his two cents.

James and Sirius exchange a look. They'd yet to figure out what had Snivellus so sensitive regarding anything about their newest co-worker, but for some reason, the slightest bit about her set him off. "Well, that was less than helpful, Snivellus," Sirius returns.

"I'll be placing a supply order sometime early next week," Lily announces. "So, if there's anything you'd like, let me know!"

"Hey, Evans!" James pokes his hand up; she looks over. "I need a new chair. The wheels on mine have been broken since we had Chair Races last week,"

"You have a wand, Potter," Lily tilts her head at him, confused. "Just-fix it,"

"Well, er, I tried that," James nods confidently. "Except, I actually burnt one of them off? While using my wand to propel the chair. So, um, I tried to fix it, and the new wheel just isn't the same,"

"Serves you right," Snivellus says haughtily.

"Eh shut it Snivelly," Edgar Bones, of accounting and Second Place fame in the Semi-Annual Chair Races, waves him off. "You're just pissed you came in last!"

"It's a stupid competition and waste of time!" Snivellus sniffs.

"Spoken like a true sore loser!" Sirius grins.

"Spoken like a-" Snivellus begins.

James cuts him off. "So, where have we fallen on this new chair thing?"

"Uhh," Lily hesitates.

"Chair granted," Albus nods. "So long as you invite me to your next Chair Races,"

James and Sirius exchange an interested look with Edgar and Remus. "Deal," James grins.

Confessional: Remus Lupin

"I was supposed to give a talk this week about wasting time in the workplace," Remus taps his fingers together. "...but I don't think that's going to be happening,"

Wednesday 9:18 am

"What did you do to my mouse?" James looks up hopefully, catching Sirius' eye as Snivellus' clicks his mouse a few times, frowning only harder as nothing happens. "Potter!"

A grin spreads over Sirius' face and James feels a matching one grow on his own. They weren't any closer to figuring out who they Mystery Prankster was, but the two of them had dragged Remus into a long conversation about it at the pub last night that culminated in a discussion about how they were looking forward to coming in today to see what awaited them in the morning...only to come into the office with seemingly no pranks in sight.

"Having some trouble there, Snivelly?" Sirius asks calmly.

"As you well know," Snivellus snaps in return.

"We maintain our innocence in this and all pranks this week," James says, watching as Snivellus' clicks become more forceful.

"Right, like I'm supposed to believe-" Click! Sparks are flying across the room.

James' jaw drops as the vase on Dorcas' desk fills with flowers. Another forceful click and the water cooler is filled with a dark red wine. Click! Click! Click!

"A baby lion!" Sirius gasps, as the cub appears between his and James' desk.

"POTTER!" Snivellus roars through James' raucous laughter.

James wipes a tear away from his eye. "This is my favorite day,"

Confessional: James Potter and Sirius Black

"Would Remus be mad if made this guy our new furry little problem?" Sirius cuddles the lion cub close to his face.

"How could he be mad at a face like that?" James coos, scratching at behind the cub's ear.

Wednesday 3:16pm

"This one's nice," James ignores the scoff from Snivellus across from him in favor of Sirius' grin. "Sending it now,"

Sirius gasps. "Look at the lake!"

"Shouldn't you be working?" Snivellus sneers.

"How's that mouse going, Snivelly?" James returns pleasantly. He gets a scowl in return.

"10 bedroom!" Sirius muses.

"Far from work," James acquiesces. "But we could hook the Floo up so we didn't have to Apparate everywhere,"

"What are you looking at?" Marlene's head suddenly appears on his shoulder, her arms looping around his neck. She's not alone; when James turns his head to look at her, he's able to see Lily just behind her, giving him the same strange look.

"Our new house out in the country,"

"You two own a house?" Lily frowns.

"Why are you looking at houses?" Marlene corrects, asking the more important question.

"So Godric can have to space to run!" Sirius responds, like the answer should be obvious.

The girls exchange a look. "Who is Godric?"

"Our new pet lion!" James slides back in his chair, so the girls can see the cub sleeping under his desk. "Snivellus gifted him to us this morning!"

"Potter!" Snivellus snaps.

"Our apologies," Sirius nods solemnly before making the correction. "Snivellus' prankster gifted us him this morning, when they fixed his mouse to fire spells whenever he clicks."

Lily laughs. "And you're keeping him?"

"Look how cute he is!" James cries. "Of course, we are!"

"At least until Remus finds out and makes them get rid of it," Marlene snickers.

"Don't you say such hurtful words in front of Drizzy!" Sirius gasps.

"What?" Marlene laughs.

"Drizzy! We've called him Godric and nicknamed him Drizzy for short!" Sirius leans over to peer under James' desk. "Isn't that right?" He coos.

Marlene bites her lip, looking between the two of them. "Lily, help me out here; will it be better to tell Remus now or wait it out and see how he reacts when he finds out about the lion?"

"The second, for sure,"

Marlene nods. "Ok, good,"

Confessional: Marlene McKinnon

"Sirius Black comes in with a freshly repaired finger and scratches all down his arm within a month" Marlene points for emphasis. "Or I buy drinks for the entire office,"

Thursday, 10:12 am

"What? No-" Snivellus shakes his head. "Mr. Jone-of course, I wouldn't, it was-" He stares at the phone in shock, the dial tone ringing loudly enough for James to hear it across from him. "POTTER!" He barks.

"Yes?" James leans forward, resting his chin in his hands.

Snivellus' eyes narrow. "You know what you did."

James grins. Actually, he doesn't. Mystery Prankster strikes again. "Remind me?"

"You changed Mr. Jones' shipping information to Ben Dover!"

James and Sirius burst into loud laughter. What a classic. James almost regrets that it wasn't him that changed it. "That's a hefty accusation there,"

"No one else has such a juvenile sense of humor to do such a thing," Snivellus sneers rudely.

"Well that's just ignorant of you," Sirius says. "This is right in Peter's lane!" He nods toward accounting.

The phone rings again...and again...and again. James and Sirius spend their day fighting back laughter as the fake names his customers complain about get better and better-Cherry Popper, Jack Meoff, Dixon Cider.

By the time lunch arrives and Snivellus stalks off angrily, they're unable to hold it in anymore, bending over laughing and burying their faces to hide the tears in their eyes.

Which is exactly how Fabian and Gideon Prewitt, the Warehouse Foremen, find them, when they step into the office.

"Oi!" Fabian nudges James to catch his attention. "Has something else happened?"

"What else happened?" James asks interestedly.

"I asked you first!"

"Someone changed all of the names for Snivelly's customer's orders," James explains

"Yeah, you guys," Gideon nods.

"No, you guys," Sirius frowns, sharing the same confused glance as James. The Prewitt twins were the top remaining suspects left on their list for who the Mystery Prankster could be...except it wasn't them?

"No, you guys," Fabian argues.

"Well, apparently it's none of us!" James cries exasperated and throwing his hands up in the air.

"Man," Gideon sinks against James' desk. "We really thought it was you,"

"We'll tell you what; he's got some good names coming in if they haven't all called yet," Fabian adds.

"I'm slightly bitter we didn't think of this," Sirius says dramatically.

"It's so simple, yet so ingenious," James admires.

Confessional: James Potter and Sirius Black

Frowning, James stares straight ahead, lifting the parchment up. His eyes narrow as he dips the quill in ink and slowly, he scratches through the last two names on the list.

"And we're back to nothing," Sirius frowns.

"Absolutely zilch," James bites.

Friday, 8:58 am

"Just. Wait." Dorcas can't even contain her glee as she doesn't bother with hello when James and Sirius enter.

"What's happened?" Sirius demands.

"It's-" She shakes her head, curls whipping back and forth. "No, you've got to see it for yourselves,"

James and Sirius exchange a look and a grin, then run over to their desks excitedly.

"This is incredible!" Sirius exclaims.

James has to agree.

Plastered all over every surface of Snivellus' desk are pictures of James' and Sirius' faces. They move from picture to picture, laughing with each other and pointing up, only to laugh even harder.

It's going to drive Snivellus crazy until he gets it off.

It also does absolutely nothing to prove James and Sirius' innocence.

James is sure that neither of them cares.

Snivellus arrives only a few minutes later, with the expected reaction. "POTTER!"

"Enjoying your re-decorating?" James asks, not looking up from the e-mail he's typing.

"They won't come off!"

This is news. "Won't they?" James asks mildly, looking up with interest.

"What did you use?"

"Wasn't-" Sirius begins.

"Don't try and tell me it wasn't you," Snivellus brushes him off. "It's your faces all over,"

Sirius shrugs. "Wasn't us,"

If looks could kill, James would have been down a best friend. With that last scathing glare, Snivellus returns to trying to remove the pictures and James and Sirius exchange another grin, before returning to work.

Friday, 5:23 pm

"It took him at least an hour before he realized it was a Permanent Sticking Charm!" James laughs, taking a sip of his beer. Post-work happy hour is the best hour, especially on days like today, when most of the office is able to come out. "He refused to work at his desk for the rest of the day!"

Marlene snickers. "Talk about dramatic,"

"Right?" Sirius cries. "He has to stare at our faces all day anyway!"

"That'd make anyone miserable," Marlene quips instantly.

"Oi! Watch yourself, McKinnon,"

She grins. "You were able to all day, Black,"

"Just wish we knew who was doing this all week," James cuts in, stopping the two of them before they really got going (which he knows from experience is the right thing to do).

"No one believes it wasn't you two," Edgar says.

"It wasn't!" Sirius protests.

"Mmhmm," Edgar nods, grabbing his drink to go back to their table on the other side of the pub, followed by Marlene, who'd been eager to meet up with Dorcas since their arrival, leaving the boys with Lily.

"Lily, I swear, it wasn't us!" James argues his innocence, holding both his hands up in proof.

Lily gives him a look. "Well of course it wasn't you,"

A moment of silence settles over James, Sirius, and Remus. "It was you!" James gasps.

Lily merely lifts her beer to her mouth and sips before turning back toward Marlene, with only a flip of her hair.

"Well shit," Sirius blinks.

"I'm in love with her," James announces.

Remus sighs. "Yeah, that sounds about right,"

#marauders the office au #fic things #marauders #marauders era #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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