#dr fillibusters fireworks

[lulublack90]

Prompt 31 - Boom

@jegulus-microfic March 31, Word count 490

Previous part First part

Sirius was being oddly polite to Regulus. He was trying and Regulus was determined to try as well. 

The little feast was going down well. Sirius hadn’t been lying about Remus’s hunger for the chocolate cake. He’d made his way through half of it before anyone noticed. James took it off him and split the remainder between them. 

“I’d eat that quick,” James nodded at the thick slice on the plate he passed over to Regulus. 

Stuffed and unable to move, they told stories and listened to Sirius’s records. It was only when James was telling them about the Veela they’d been to watch in the village that Regulus remembered about Édith Piaf. He got up and went over to the shelf where Sirius kept all his records. Regulus was surprised by the sheer volume of them. He’d had no idea his brother loved muggle music this much. He leaned in and read the spines, his finger trailing over each until it paused on one towards the end and pulled it out. No one was paying attention to him, so he carefully lifted the needle off the T-Rex album that was playing, moved the vinyl out of the way and slipped Édith Piaf’s out of its sleeve and placed it on the turntable. He lifted the arm and the disk began to spin. There was a small amount of crackling and then Édith Piaf’s hauntingly beautiful voice filled the small space. The room fell silent as they all listened.

“Nice choice,” Sirius said, suddenly behind him. “Any reason you picked that one?” Regulus nodded. 

“I listened to it in France,” Sirius beamed at him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. 

“Come on, Reggie, I hid a lemon tart for you,” Regulus’s mouth watered as he walked with Sirius back to their little group. 

Regulus was licking the lemon curd out of the sweet pastry case, something he would never do in any company other than the ones he was with, while Sirius told them about a prank he was planning. “I think we could go so much bigger than we have been,” he chatted excitedly. His arms had been quite animated and when he said bigger, he flung his arms out and knocked over a full pitcher of pumpkin juice. The sticky juice spread across the floor and under Sirius’s bed. A hissing noise emanated from below the hanging bedsheet. Sirius’s eyes bulged out of his head as he lunged to his feet, dragging Remus along with him. “Scarper!” He yelped as the first firework wizzed into the room. James grabbed Regulus and Peter turned into Wormtail, scurrying across the room and under the gap in the door as Sirius’s last box of Dr Filibuster’s fabulous wet-start, no-heat fireworks went off with a rafter shaking boom. Sparks in all the colours rained down on them. 

“SIRIUS BLACK!” Professor McGonagal’s shout echoed through the Gryffindor common room. 

“Oops,” Sirius winced. 

Next part

[bluestringpudding]

More New Year's shenanigans

This time in the shape of a very silly drabble.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The shouts echoed around the great hall as teachers and students shouted, adding to the din of the Dr Fillibuster’s Fireworks that were let off as the clock struck twelve.

“So, Nick,” said Harry once the commotion had died down. “We heard what everyone else’s resolutions are going to be. Ron’s doing more Quidditch practice, Hermione’s going to read more books – although how she thinks she’s going to achieve that is anyone’s guess. How about you?”

“Oh I know! You could try eating more healthily!” Ron laughed uproariously at his own joke, while everyone around him rolled their eyes.

“Oh yes, very droll,” said Nick, “I assure you I have never heard that one in any of the last five hundred New Year Eves I’ve experienced.”

“Do you do new year’s resolutions Nick? Were they a thing? Back when you were…” Hermione trailed off.

“Alive? No need to beat about the bush,” said Nick, waving away Hermione’s concerns. “Yes, humans have been making promises to better themselves during the next rotation of the sun for thousands of years. I for one have learnt to keep them realistic. No point in setting yourself up for failure even if you do have an eternity to keep trying. Last year I said that I would face my fears. And I’m pleased to say, that I have been coming on in leaps and bounds. Why, just last week I said good afternoon to the Bloody Baron.”

“So, what are you resolving to do this year?”

“This year, dear boy,” Nick drew himself up proudly so that he was floating a couple of inches higher above the bench that he had been. “I am going to strive to be better at expressing myself artistically,” he finished with a flourish.

Harry quickly put his cup back to his mouth so that he wouldn’t spray pumpkin juice all over the table.

“Artistically?” said Ron incredulously, “but, but you can’t hold a paintbrush!”

Nearly Headless Nick sighed and shook his head so that it wobbled.

“One does not need a paintbrush to be artistic! One can recite poetry, sing, act, dance!”

“Dance?! Do ghosts dance?”

“Oh yes, on the whole they’re rather good at it, although actually, I was born with two left feet. But that was merely an example! No, I intend to start writing poetry. I’ve already got a little something I created earlier, would you like to here it?

Everyone sat around the table stared at Nick in stunned silence. Which he took for ascent. He cleared his throat.

“Her hair was gold and flaxen yellow, She made the sweetest of bed-fellows –“

“Actually Nick!” Hermione cut in, “I err, I really think we ought to get to bed, shouldn’t we?”

“Oh yes,” Harry agreed quickly, yawning for emphasis, “I’m never normally up this late. Need to be up early. Sorry Nick, maybe another time?”

“Oh,” said Nick, crestfallen, “Oh yes, I suppose it is terribly late. Goodnight!”