There was a bell ringing, a small and sprightly one. James blinked, identified the sound, and started his day with a bit of good round swearing. He heard Sirius heave himself out of bed onto the floor, and then the little bell stopped. James lay where he was, hoping that just this once he would hear further sounds of movement…
The little bell began to ring again, a few feet closer to the bathroom then it had been. Remus uttered a word James hadn’t known until yesterday morning when Severus had taught it to them all. “Sirius! De-Charm that alarm clock before we all murder you!” James yelled.
In a new interlude of silence, Sirius said, “Can’t. I don’t know how. Evans did this for me.”
“And here I was beginning to like her after all,” James muttered.
Tiny metal feet clinked on the bathroom tiles three rings later. James heard Severus throw back bed curtains, pad across the floor, and firmly close the bathroom door. There was the sound of a sink filling with the taps on full force. The clock began chiming, and then there was a splash. The chiming of the bell gained an aquatic quality, dwindled, and died. The door opened again, and there was a wet clink.
“Yours, I believe,” Severus said from a spot near the door. “You might tell Evans that her walking alarm clock spell loses its sense and dives into sinks of water after a week or so.”
“You drowned my clock,” Sirius proclaimed from the floor. He always was a little slow of a morning.
“It leapt into the sink. If tomorrow morning it should fancy the toilet, I will leave it for you to fish out.”
James thought the little clock might have had a boost in its suicidal dive, but though he had promised Sirius he would never side with That, there were limits. Remus and Peter had made no such agreements. Both were snickering in their beds. Sleep would be impossible now, so James sat up and checked on his friend.
Sirius was holding his clock out at arm’s length, watching it drip with a bemused expression on his face. “He drowned my clock.”
“It’ll probably be fine when it dries out,” James assured, hoping it wouldn’t be. “And you’re awake now.”
Sirius nodded, then tipped the clock. The drip became a brief stream. The wet copper gleamed in the morning light. “I’m awake. Can we kill him?”
“I’ll bet that would be worth a whopper of a detention. Could we eat first?”
Once fed, Sirius was in a better mood and contented himself with a series of Trip Jinxes, which led to retaliation, which led to open war that ended the instant the second-year Gryffindors made the final turn toward the Transfiguration classroom. Evans showed her true Gryffindor courage by continuing to sit with Severus despite some of his more interesting attempts in the subject. She and he sat shooting glares at the other boys in free moments. James could live with that. Who cared what a girl thought?
Unfortunately the alarm clock had survived its dunking. More unfortunately, now that the crystal was fogged, it no longer made a tidy journey across the floor from Sirius’ bedside to the bath, but scuttled about the room ringing erratically and bumping into things. The boys tried several drying spells and even left the device on the hearth for two days. Severus unbent in his grudge long enough to offer a mummification curse to really dry the thing out, which sounded exotic and intriguing until he added, “Of course, it might not be safe to touch for the next few days. Or years.”
Sirius snatched away his property before anything else could happen to it. “You may not have noticed, but I like this clock.”
“Bully for you,” Peter grumbled through a yawn.
“Do you think maybe if you set the thing a little later, you could wake up faster after the extra sleep?” Remus the problem-solver suggested.
“It’s never worked before.”
“We could make it work.” Severus sounded a little too happy with his own suggestion.
“Snape, when I want you to curse me I’ll let you know. By hexing you first.” James thought he saw Sirius add a silent fatally.
Severus pointed down at the mattress he was coiled upon. “Safe zone.”
“Not unless you’re asleep. No hexing sleeping Gryffindors.”
“Well, since you’re the only one who can sleep in here, we may have to rewrite the blasted rule!”
James heaved a pillow at Severus to quiet him. Severus yelped, then made a show of pulling out his own pillow for comparison. Satisfied, he settled James’ pillow under his middle and used his own for return fire.
“Eew! I don’t want your greasy old pillow!” James yelled, and threw the offending object back. Severus made himself more comfortable with a sneer.
“You’ll have to Scourgify that, James,” Sirius said, happier now that he was not the target of everyone’s annoyance. “Or That.”
“Give that back, you bed-maker.” Really, what sort of boy made his own bed every morning when Hogwarts would do it for him?
“You threw it away.”
James lunged, meaning only to snatch back his pillow, but somehow found himself in a real fight. Severus seemed to know a lot more about Muggle-style brawling than James did. Sirius bounded in to help. Between them, they managed to pin Severus, Sirius leaning on his wrists while James sat on his legs. Rubbing what looked like a bite mark, James said, “Thanks.”
“No problem. This had better be a really good pillow, mate.”
James craned his neck to check the two pillows on the floor, and nearly went over onto his head when Severus tried to heave him off. “Best ever. Hogwarts knows its pillows.”
There was a muffled snort from somewhere near Sirius’ left armpit.
“I suppose we’d better not smother him,” James said without moving.
“Why ever not?” Sirius answered. “Detention. Right. Something tells me we should let go on three. One, two… NOW!”
Severus launched after them, but hadn’t been able to pick a single target. James yanked his robes out of grasping fingers and spun to face his attacker. Sirius coughed and rubbed his throat. “Worthless little git,” he muttered.
James crouched to get what he thought was his own pillow. He chose to ignore the smirk that said Severus thought it wasn’t.
The next morning, the damp and rusty jingle began once more. James heard Sirius stirring, then a shout and a loud thud. The alarm jangled on, joined by a torrent of strong language. James threw aside his bed curtains to see Sirius on the floor in an awkward sprawl. The clock was dancing away ignored, and the bed’s mattress was floating several feet above the bedframe. Two startled faces poked from the other beds; Severus merely looked interested and led with his wand.
“You all right?” James asked, hurrying to his prone friend and smacking the clock into silence as he passed.
“Who moved the floor?! I thought we were supposed to be safe in our sleep!”
James had thought so, too. He glared at Severus, who wasn’t even bothering to pretend to look innocent. “Well?”
“’No jinxing, hexing, or cursing of sleeping Gryffindors,’ was the deal. That was a Hover Charm on a mattress.”
Half of James sided with Sirius and was outraged. The other half wished he’d thought of it himself.
“Nice one,” Peter said, relieving James of his conflict.
“You could have hurt him,” James scolded.
Severus shrugged. “Wizards bounce.”
In case you missed it, that was not a bounce!” Sirius reeled to his feet, rubbing bruised parts, and began searching for his wand. “All right, greaseball, where did you stash it?”
“Nowhere.”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“I didn’t lie about the bed; why would I now?”
Remus tipped his head in a fair-point sort of way. Severus looked indignant, which often meant something bad was about to happen. “Don’t you keep it under your pillow?” James hazarded.
“Yeah! Yeah. Um.” Sirius was tallest of the group, but not tall enough. Even teetering on the frame, he couldn’t reach more than the edge of the mattress. It was barely low enough for him to have rolled under the curtain rod. Dropping back to the floor, he turned a beseeching gaze on James. “I don’t suppose you know how to undo a Hover Charm?”
“Maybe? Finite Incantatem!” The mattress swayed, knocking hard against the bedposts, and rose another handspan. “I guess not.”
Sirius looked hopefully around at the others. Remus shrugged and said James had already taken his guess. Peter pointed his wand and said “Delevitate?” with such uncertainty that his wand didn’t even shoot sparks.
James thought Severus looked too smug to even ask, but Sirius did, at last, direct his hopeful look to the original culprit. Severus only gazed back with mild interest until Sirius finally asked aloud. “Did you bother to look up how to undo a Hover Charm?”
“I thought I had.” He examined the problem, tapping his wand against his fingers. “But unless James is still sloppy with his wandwork and Remus is still too loyal a friend to undercut him by saying so, I have to say I’m a bit stumped.”
James scowled. It didn’t help at all that Remus looked a little sheepish. “Fine. Let’s see you do it, then.”
Black eyes narrowed. “What’s the magic word?”
James looked at Sirius; Sirius looked at James. “Would you say ‘We promise not to stick your head in the toilet again’ is one word?”
“Brilliant counting,” Severus told them, a distinct edge to his voice, “but it’ll do. Finite Incantatem!” James noted the tidy jab of the wand, and the bed thumped back to normal.
The five boys hurried through their normal routines in a guarded and hurried manner, running a little later than was comfortable. Severus started out the door ahead of the rest. Sirius muttered, “Good thing he didn’t try to Transfigure my bed instead of Charm it. He’d’ve blown the whole tower to bits.”
James spotted movement at the edge of the doorframe. “Look out!” he yelled, and dove as another voice shouted “Reductio!” Bits of sheet and a few bedsprings filled the air.
“Stupid git!” yelled Sirius from his face-shielding crouch.
“Supercilious wanker!” floated back up the stairs. James reminded himself to look up both words sometime.
The four boys gathered for a better look at the large hole in what had been Sirius’ bed. “That’s going to be hard to explain,” Peter said at last.
“Even harder to pay back,” Sirius growled.
After a few moody days, however, Sirius seemed to forget all about the incident. He began to spend more time in the library, claiming it was to spend less time closeted with That. Though the library was hardly Snape-proof, Madam Pince’s fierce reign over her territory made everyone safe enough. James followed his friend, figuring that studying once in a while wouldn’t kill either of them. “Little creep,” Sirius muttered one night. “Why is he always in here too, when he’s also always in the common room and always in our dormitory?”
“Three books a day,” James whispered back. “He’s out to read the whole library.”
“He’s mental.”
“I’m not arguing with you.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Probably. He doesn’t sleep much, though, which is all the more time to hex him in.”
Sirius chuckled. “I only need a minute. Make sure you’re not the second one up tomorrow, is all I’ll say.”
James felt a little hurt. Sirius never left him out of plans. “What about Remus and Peter?”
“Remus is ‘visiting his sick mother’ again. That woman needs a better Healer. Peter might blab if I told him, so I’m just counting on him to be a sound sleeper. All right?”
“Are you sure I can’t help?”
“Evans, behind you and closing. Ugglethorp the Awful, goblin wars; Wingledon the Wanker, inventer of Toenail Floss; Supreme Mugwump in 1715 was…”
“… fully one hundred years ahead of the end of our last history lecture.” Evans leaned over the back of the seat beside James. “I never knew you two were such history buffs. Do we have a test tomorrow I’ve forgotten about?”
“Er, no. We’re just…” James found himself uncharacteristically at a loss for what they were just doing.
“You know, I like to read ahead just because blood and guts and silly inventions are so much more interesting before old Binns sinks his ghostly claws into them,” Sirius improvised.
“I’ll grant the only thing Binns can improve is a nap. Let me know if you hit anything interesting. I’d looked forward to that class, and it’s turned out to be such a bore.”
“So far,” Sirius told her, “it’s pretty much blood and guts.”
“Well, there’s history for you. Somebody beating up on somebody else, and next thing you know all England’s ablaze.” She straightened back up. “Or something like that.”
Sirius nodded, then watched her walk away. “No wonder she gets along with That. They’re both nosy.”
“Is she?” James looked after her, noticing that her hair really was a pretty colour, especially by torchlight. “I guess she’s pretty enough most people mind less.”
With a noncommittal noise, Sirius went back to his book. “Just don’t get up too early tomorrow.”
“No worries. Whatever you’re doing, I don’t want to step in it.”
Sirius barked a laugh that earned him a Pince glare.
The gurgling of the Black alarm clock seemed unusually muffled the next morning. James listened, half-awake, as Sirius slid out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The bathtub began to fill, drowning out any sounds of prank or misdeed. Eventually the water stopped with a thump that jolted through the pipes. Some contented whistling and humming followed, and then Sirius emerged to cross the still-dark room once more. He collided hard with the foot of Severus’ bed and muttered something.
Severus growled something back. James tried to remember if he’d heard the other boy come to bed the night before. He heard a few fidgets and a noisy sigh, then the rasp of curtains shoved aside. Two footsteps later, there was a wild yell that seemed to cross the floor very fast, a solid crash, and a gigantic splash.
James shot upright. He looked out to find Sirius laughing, leaning against a wardrobe for support. The sounds from the bathroom seemed to indicate someone swearing venomously while trying not to drown in bubble bath. James looked down. A shining path across the floor faded under his gaze. Cautious probing with one toe revealed a slick surface, and then it was gone.
“Whazzat? I heard something,” Peter mumbled.
“I ran Snape a bath,” Sirius wheezed.
“Oh. Think he’ll be long? I need to have a pee.”
An ominous silence radiated from the bath, along with a strong scent of flowers. “Maybe you should… check, like… you could ask him,” James suggested. Sirius had slid all the way to the floor, quivering inaudibly.
Peter advanced toward the open door, creeping sideways. “Severus, are you going to”” A spray of water erupted from the doorway in answer, and he leapt back. “I’ll just close the door, than, shall I?” he offered, and did.
“Is he all right?” James asked, mostly for good form.
“He didn’t look too happy. Bit of a nosebleed, I think, and Sirius might have overdone the bubbles.” Peter stood nodding for a minute. “I’ll just go find another one, then.”
“You do that.” Sirius regained a little control of himself.
James fidgeted, not sure what to do. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“Oh, you won’t. You’re not a little creep that should have been Sorted into Slytherin. But this was just Snivelly.” Sirius cocked his head, still sitting on the floor against the wardrobe. “Oh, come on. You didn’t find it at least a little funny?”
“Yeah. A little. The bubble bath part, yes. The slippery surface has uses, I think, and you should teach it to me. But “ save some for the real Slytherins, eh? We’re all Gryffindors here, and we have five and a half more years to rub along somehow.”
“Come off it, James. He’s not a real Gryffindor; he didn’t even want to be in this House. And you know it.”
“It doesn’t matter. He is in this House, and”” James squared his shoulders. “And if he blows up your bed again, I’m not taking sides. You annoyed him, and for that matter the rest of us. He pranked you for it. You made a war of it, and that’s your problem.”
Sirius stared up at James, then slid back up the wardrobe to stand. “You think I overdid it.”
“Yeah.”
“He drowned my clock.”
“And the rest of us cheered.”
“He Hovered my bed.”
“Yes “ and he put it back again when you asked.”
“And then he blew it up!”
“True. The house elves had it all cleaned up and fixed by that night, though. Nobody got hurt.”
Sirius paced two steps, pivoted, and said, “So, you think I overdid it?”
“Pretty much. At least, I think it would be fair for him to think you overdid it.”
“Who cares what Snivelly thinks?”
The response sounded automatic, which James thought was a start. “Anyone who lives in the crossfire, mate. Try to wrap it up, will you?”
Sirius paced a few loops from bed to door and back. “Merlin’s skivvies, James, you can’t expect me to apologize!”
“Don’t bother!” came quite clearly from the bathroom.
Sirius gave James a sidelong angry look for making him have this conversation where That could hear it. “Wouldn’t anyway!”
“Good!”
Rolling his eyes, Sirius muttered, “See? Completely hopeless.” More loudly, he added, “It wasn’t cold water!”
After a very long silence, there came a “Thanks” so frosty James thought it probably froze the bathwater to ice on its own. He gave Sirius a shrug and a prompting handwave.
“No!” Sirius mouthed silently.
“Remember what Evans said about blood and guts and all England ablaze? This is how wars start.”
“You’re assuming he’d get anyone on his side.”
“Evans.”
“Fair point.” Sirius thought hard, visibly, forehead slumped and eyes distant. “Bloody hell. Sev, I’ll quit if you will.”
There was no answer from beyond the bathroom door for several seconds. “One condition,” Sev said eventually.
“Condition?”
James made conciliatory gestures once more.
“You have to wear this bloody perfume you’ve created at least as long as I do.”
Sirius sniffed a few times. James didn’t have to. “It is rather strong, isn’t it? Bother. But as conditions go, it isn’t so bad, I guess.”
“Worth not having a war on our hands, I’d say,” James said. Peter padded back in, looking more content than he had, and began rummaging out his robes. “You missed it all, Pete.”
“Missed what?”
“Everything. War, famine, truces, negotiations. Things Binns will be teaching in another hundred years. Everything!”
Sirius laughed, himself again. “There’ll be a test on it, I’m sure.”
Peter actually looked worried. James said, “Speaking of famine, anyone for breakfast?”
The Nature Of Courage by Vindictus Viridian
Chapter Notes: I'd meant to leave the one-shot where it stood, but it wouldn't stay still. I'm still not sure where this is going, but this second-year fic was too much fun not to share. The alarm clock is based on a true story -- a friend of mine liked to set up five or so from her bed to the shower, set sequentially.
Thank Heavens we were never roommates.