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Kaalee and Wook Drabble Pub Responses
When I was in DC, I stayed a couple days with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kaalee. To entertain ourselves, we prompted one another and wrote for 5-10-15 minutes. There were 8 prompts total in a very nice range of pairings. You can find kaalee's part 1 and part 2.
Mine are below the cuts. They are unbeta'd.
Pairing: Dean/Luna
Prompt: Checkers
Length: 191 words
Dean's frustrated with the way Luna keeps misplaying the pieces. Checkers is an easy game, not really requiring memorisation of special plays or pieces. It's simple – diagonal, leap over to capture, king and go back but Luna. Luna keeps playing straight and left and right but not a single diagonal.
Luna plays her piece wrong, again, and Dean's temper finally flares, "You're doing it wrong."
"I am?" She looks surprised by it.
"Diagonal, Luna, you have to play on the diagonal." He leaps over one of her pieces and snatches it from the board. "See?"
"Show me once more?" She asks as she leans in. Her hand rests over a piece and goes to move it wrong. Dean reaches out and holds on to her hand, piece and all.
"This goes here, or here, but not there," he says as he moves her hand over the board. She puts the piece done in one of the correct spots and then, within his grasp, turns her hand and entwines their fingers. He looks up, startled, and sees her smiling at him. Her hand in his feels just about right and he grins.
Pairing: Dean/Luna
Prompt: Finding a strange photograph
Length: 151 words
The gallery is quite entertaining and downright appealing to the eye with the way it curves and wanders. There are old masters' paintings hanging on the walls, artwork changing from oils to watercolours to pastels. Luna flits from painting to painting, pointing out little things that Dean wouldn't have noticed before and, slowly, he's more entranced by Luna's dancing – side to side and back and forth – than the paintings themselves.
She turns, just in front of a Rembrandt, looking over her shoulder. She's so beautiful that the urge to paint her is strong enough to cause his fingers to twitch. A shy smile and she looks like she can exactly what he wants to do and, perhaps, she does know. Luna seems to read everyone, after all.
He knows the moment is sealed in his head like a photograph and then they continue walking, darting from side to side to side.
Pairing: Oliver/Marcus
Prompt: Skipping stones
Length: 254 words
Oliver leans down, scoops a stone and then hurls it out over the lake. It bounces once twice thrice and then sinks. A moment later, a stone skips out one two three four times and Oliver turns to look at who's near. When he sees Flint, he glares, and then turns back. He's slightly more careful in his selection of stone this time and when his stone sails over the water, it bounces five times. His face is triumphant when he turns to Flint.
For his part, Flint only smiles menacingly and then hurls a stone so that it skips six times. Frustrated, Oliver skips another, this one barely managing seven hops. Flint's goes eight. By now, Oliver is sweating and his collar itches. Disregarding it and seizing his bravery, he turns and taunts, "Face it, Flint, you'll never beat Gryffindor at stones let alone Quidditch."
"We'll see, Wood." There's even more vitriol on that twisted face than before. Oliver turns and tosses a stone and it skips the water eleven times. Flint cocks and eyebrow at Oliver and then stalks off.
"Told you, you'll never beat me," Oliver calls out. Flint turns and stalks close before his hand spears into Oliver's hair and twists his neck awkwardly. He leans in and then bites down on Oliver's lip. He sucks it in, laves it with his tongue and then thrusts his tongue further, deep into Oliver's mouth. As quickly as it began, it ends as Flint walks off, leaving a dazed Oliver Wood behind.
Pairing: Neville/Anthony Goldstein
Prompt: Plant!Kink
Length: 303 words
There's a flitterbloom on his doorstep and he has no idea how it got there. He hasn't ordered one; his classes aren't due to study one for quite awhile. At least, he doesn't think he ordered one. He could've, he guesses, but he really doesn't remember. It's a beautiful specimen and he takes it into his rooms with a smile on his face.
A week later, there's a honking daffodil on his doorstep. This, too, he doesn't remember ordering and this, too, is a wonderful specimen. The third week, a screechsnap plant that arrives out of nowhere. Neville asks around but no one seems to know where the plants are coming from. No one's seen anyone drop them off. He hasn't a clue where they could've come from but when, on the fourth week, a mimbulus mimbletonia arrives, his curiosity is so aroused that he sets a trap to figure out who is leaving him plants. He's shocked when he discovers Anthony Goldstein skulking outside his door with a wonderful gurdyroot.
Over the course of the next month, he slowly starts talking to Goldstein, watching for any sort of reaction to the mention of the plants. There's a flush and a stumble over words. Neville insists that he come to the greenhouses to see how they're doing and Anthony balks. Neville insists with a smile and they walk to the back of the steamy, earthy building. There, surrounded by all the plants, Neville kisses Anthony. It's not a perfect kiss, there's too much teeth and spit, but it's good enough, close enough to perfect that Neville knows he'll remember the feel of Anthony under his hands and the way the gifted plants surrounded them. Even before they separate – breathless and panting and flushed – Neville knows he wants to do this again and again.
Pairing: Seamus, Dean, Neville
Prompt: First Visit to the Three Broomsticks
Length: 309 words
Seamus can't stop staring at Madam Rosmerta's tits. They're the biggest tits he's seen since his mam had had Mary Dougal in for a fitting of her wedding gown and Seamus not-so-accidentally walked in on them while her dress was down around her ankles. But Madam Rosmerta, her tits are full and gloriously plump where Mary Dougal's tits had been on the small side. Entranced by her bosom, Seamus stumbles over ordering his butterbeer.
Dean can't stop staring at Seamus as he stares at Madam Rosmerta. There's a twisting, seething, nasty feeling in his gut and he doesn't know what it is. He really wishes he had Seamus's talent with words so that he can identify it. As it is, he's abrupt and rude as he orders his butterbeer.
Neville can't stop staring at Dean staring at Seamus staring at Madam Rosmerta. He knows that twisted look on Dean's face for what it is, jealousy. Things – dynamics, friendships, life – are changing and Neville would be quite happy skipping this part. He sighs and then orders a butterbeer resignedly.
Their table is quiet as they sip their drinks. This isn't at all what any of them thought Hogsmeade would be like. Seamus looks around and wonders why everyone else is so quiet so he talks even more. Dean glowers at one and all while Neville just watches the volleying. Neville finally broaches the subject of moving on once their drinks are empty and Seamus and Dean glare at one another and the room.
When they walk into Honeyduke's, the morass of emotions in the Three Broomsticks is forgotten amidst the bright colours and laughter and candy. Seamus buys Dean some taffy and Dean smiles and offers to get Neville a chocolate bar. Neville buys some Bertie Bott's and they proceed to talk and eat as they walk back to Hogwarts.
Pairing: Seamus/Neville
Prompt: First taste of alcohol
Length: 546 words
It goes down smooth, gliding along Neville's throat and cascading into his stomach like a golden waterfall. It's warm, like the summer rain he'd danced in with his mouth hanging open, just outside of Gran's sight. It's an amazingly free feeling, that slow gentle glide of liquid along his esophagus.
Then it bursts to angry life, just like his Gran when she'd caught him in the rain. The molten fire screams and yells at him just like Gran, "get inside right this very minute! Whatever am I going to do with you, running about with your mouth open like a mutton-headed fool?!" It chastises him harshly and Neville immediately regrets the impulse to succumb to Seamus's taunts and drink the Firewhisky.
"Liked that, did you?" Seamus asks while an evil glint twinkles in his eye. Neville glares back, unable to formulate words in response for fear of the whisky bursting into flames out his mouth.
After hours that are really minutes, Neville finally sputters, a cloud of smoke puffing out between his lips, "Your turn."
Seamus winks, that evil twinkle still there, and then tosses the entire shot back. His neck arches and Neville will later swear it was all the Firewhisky talking when he thinks that he'd really quite like to lean in and lick that curve, taste that jut in his neck and all that exposed skin. He's shocked into inattention and so the burst of flames in front of his face causes him to dance back, falling over his chair and landing with a resounding clatter. The rest of the inhabitants of the Room of Requirement look over and laugh and then go back to their conversations.
Seamus's laughter rings out the loudest and Neville flushes. He's always knocking in to things or stumbling and, just once, he'd quite like to not be such a klutz. There's a hand in his face and Neville grasps it without thinking. He allows himself to be hauled up and then crashes into Seamus, jaw hitting forehead, and flushes once more.
"Careful there, Nev, you'd think you'd never tasted alcohol before." Seamus takes a tiny step back while rubbing at his head and Neville misses the warmth of that chest-to-chest touch.
"It was, actually," he admits quietly.
"You're fucking with me," Seamus says loudly.
"Not, it really was. No time, really, and, well, no opportunity."
""Well, going to have to rectify that, aren't we?" Seamus winks with that glint once more and then pours another round.
This time, Neville is prepared for the jut of flame and lets loose with one of his own. Round after round after round follows as everyone else drifts off to bed. Neville's feeling mellow but as more rounds progress, he gets more daring and, after his sixth (or was it his ninth?) shot, he reaches a hand out and touches Seamus's neck.
"What'd you do that for?" The twinkle turns into an odd glint that Neville's never seen before and he doesn't quite know how to react.
"Wanted to, for awhile. Rather lick it, though, to be honest." The words are out without thought and Neville claps his hands over his mouth as if to shove them back in.
"Oh yeah?" Seamus asks. Neville, quite reluctantly, nods. "Well, then, go ahead."
Pairing: Seamus/Dean
Prompt: Rainstorm Snogging
Length: 424 words
Seamus absolutely refuses to let go of Dean there in the rain outside of the Tube entrance. Dean goes to walk off and Seamus pulls him back by their entwined hands so that they bump chest to chest. He reaches a hand up, digging his fingers into Dean's short locks and then kisses him. It's needy and messy and wet but Seamus doesn't care because he just can't seem to let go of Dean.
Each tug, as time ticks past, Dean rolls his eyes and kisses him back, indulging Seamus and the public display of affection that just isn't his type of thing, normally. It – the tug and kiss and walk away and tug and kiss and – has already happened four times. He's a mite annoyed but Dean allows himself to be pulled back and kissed there in the pouring rain.
This is a big opportunity for Dean – this trip to Paris to study art – and they'd both talked and agreed that the very long separation would be fine and they could deal with and but but but talking's one thing and doing's another. The reality is that neither wants the separation, that both fear what time will do. Will Seamus meet someone else that works at the Ministry with him? Maybe long lunches while they flirt? Will Dean meet someone that actually understands his artistic ramblings that make Seamus's eyes glaze over? The possibilities keep churning in the heads and guts so this game of tug appeals to both of them.
Time marches on as they repeat the tug and kiss and walk for the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth time. All too soon, it's absolutely-without-a-doubt-the-point-of-no-return time and Seamus tugs one last time. They both pretend that it's only rain coursing down their faces as they kiss. Hands touch and map one another in an attempt to imprint, remember, as much as they can for as long as they can.
Then it's beyond the point of no return and Seamus steps back, says, "I'll be seeing you," and walks away quickly without a backwards glance. It's tough for him not to turn for another look but they'd agreed that this was the way they'd do it. Dean turns as well and walks into the station and down the stairs to the platform, not looking back until there's only a tunnel to see, no Seamus and no rain soaked kisses.
Both can still taste the other and both reach up, touch finger to lip, and embed the taste while separated. It's got to be enough.
Pairing: James/Sirius
Prompt: "Come on, Ireland!"
Length: 252 words
The game's tied: 270 to 270. Sirius, fool that he was and still is, has quite a bit of money riding on the outcome of this game. He's glued to the Wireless as it broadcasts the game. The play by play description of the action makes him jump and flail his fists. As Spain scores, sending them up 280 to Ireland's 270, Sirius shouts, "Come on, Ireland!"
"Thank God Lily and Harry are out else you'd wake the baby," James says as he walks through the door into the parlour.
"Sod off, I've a lot riding on this game." Sirius tosses an all too familiar rude gesture towards James.
James responds with a growl, running across the room and throwing himself onto Sirius where he sits on the sofa. They start to wrestle which shifts from aggressive to need touching without either realising. Touching turns to kissing when James cups Sirius's face and there's a moment of staring and then it shifts, eyes close and mouths meet. Hands, suddenly frantic, tug at clothing and there's a tinkling noise as a button skitters across the hardwood floor.
"And Shaunnessy has the Snitch! Ireland wins!" The announcer's voice interrupts and, in his moment of excitement at winning a hundred galleons off Frank Longbottom, Sirius stands and dumps James to the floor. A pissed off snarl answers him and then he's tugged to the floor. "You'll be explaining the bruises to Lily."
"You going to explain why I'm walking funny?" Sirius replies with a leer.
As always, I'd love to hear what you thought!
kaalee. To entertain ourselves, we prompted one another and wrote for 5-10-15 minutes. There were 8 prompts total in a very nice range of pairings. You can find kaalee's part 1 and part 2. Mine are below the cuts. They are unbeta'd.
Pairing: Dean/Luna
Prompt: Checkers
Length: 191 words
Dean's frustrated with the way Luna keeps misplaying the pieces. Checkers is an easy game, not really requiring memorisation of special plays or pieces. It's simple – diagonal, leap over to capture, king and go back but Luna. Luna keeps playing straight and left and right but not a single diagonal.
Luna plays her piece wrong, again, and Dean's temper finally flares, "You're doing it wrong."
"I am?" She looks surprised by it.
"Diagonal, Luna, you have to play on the diagonal." He leaps over one of her pieces and snatches it from the board. "See?"
"Show me once more?" She asks as she leans in. Her hand rests over a piece and goes to move it wrong. Dean reaches out and holds on to her hand, piece and all.
"This goes here, or here, but not there," he says as he moves her hand over the board. She puts the piece done in one of the correct spots and then, within his grasp, turns her hand and entwines their fingers. He looks up, startled, and sees her smiling at him. Her hand in his feels just about right and he grins.
Pairing: Dean/Luna
Prompt: Finding a strange photograph
Length: 151 words
The gallery is quite entertaining and downright appealing to the eye with the way it curves and wanders. There are old masters' paintings hanging on the walls, artwork changing from oils to watercolours to pastels. Luna flits from painting to painting, pointing out little things that Dean wouldn't have noticed before and, slowly, he's more entranced by Luna's dancing – side to side and back and forth – than the paintings themselves.
She turns, just in front of a Rembrandt, looking over her shoulder. She's so beautiful that the urge to paint her is strong enough to cause his fingers to twitch. A shy smile and she looks like she can exactly what he wants to do and, perhaps, she does know. Luna seems to read everyone, after all.
He knows the moment is sealed in his head like a photograph and then they continue walking, darting from side to side to side.
Pairing: Oliver/Marcus
Prompt: Skipping stones
Length: 254 words
Oliver leans down, scoops a stone and then hurls it out over the lake. It bounces once twice thrice and then sinks. A moment later, a stone skips out one two three four times and Oliver turns to look at who's near. When he sees Flint, he glares, and then turns back. He's slightly more careful in his selection of stone this time and when his stone sails over the water, it bounces five times. His face is triumphant when he turns to Flint.
For his part, Flint only smiles menacingly and then hurls a stone so that it skips six times. Frustrated, Oliver skips another, this one barely managing seven hops. Flint's goes eight. By now, Oliver is sweating and his collar itches. Disregarding it and seizing his bravery, he turns and taunts, "Face it, Flint, you'll never beat Gryffindor at stones let alone Quidditch."
"We'll see, Wood." There's even more vitriol on that twisted face than before. Oliver turns and tosses a stone and it skips the water eleven times. Flint cocks and eyebrow at Oliver and then stalks off.
"Told you, you'll never beat me," Oliver calls out. Flint turns and stalks close before his hand spears into Oliver's hair and twists his neck awkwardly. He leans in and then bites down on Oliver's lip. He sucks it in, laves it with his tongue and then thrusts his tongue further, deep into Oliver's mouth. As quickly as it began, it ends as Flint walks off, leaving a dazed Oliver Wood behind.
Pairing: Neville/Anthony Goldstein
Prompt: Plant!Kink
Length: 303 words
There's a flitterbloom on his doorstep and he has no idea how it got there. He hasn't ordered one; his classes aren't due to study one for quite awhile. At least, he doesn't think he ordered one. He could've, he guesses, but he really doesn't remember. It's a beautiful specimen and he takes it into his rooms with a smile on his face.
A week later, there's a honking daffodil on his doorstep. This, too, he doesn't remember ordering and this, too, is a wonderful specimen. The third week, a screechsnap plant that arrives out of nowhere. Neville asks around but no one seems to know where the plants are coming from. No one's seen anyone drop them off. He hasn't a clue where they could've come from but when, on the fourth week, a mimbulus mimbletonia arrives, his curiosity is so aroused that he sets a trap to figure out who is leaving him plants. He's shocked when he discovers Anthony Goldstein skulking outside his door with a wonderful gurdyroot.
Over the course of the next month, he slowly starts talking to Goldstein, watching for any sort of reaction to the mention of the plants. There's a flush and a stumble over words. Neville insists that he come to the greenhouses to see how they're doing and Anthony balks. Neville insists with a smile and they walk to the back of the steamy, earthy building. There, surrounded by all the plants, Neville kisses Anthony. It's not a perfect kiss, there's too much teeth and spit, but it's good enough, close enough to perfect that Neville knows he'll remember the feel of Anthony under his hands and the way the gifted plants surrounded them. Even before they separate – breathless and panting and flushed – Neville knows he wants to do this again and again.
Pairing: Seamus, Dean, Neville
Prompt: First Visit to the Three Broomsticks
Length: 309 words
Seamus can't stop staring at Madam Rosmerta's tits. They're the biggest tits he's seen since his mam had had Mary Dougal in for a fitting of her wedding gown and Seamus not-so-accidentally walked in on them while her dress was down around her ankles. But Madam Rosmerta, her tits are full and gloriously plump where Mary Dougal's tits had been on the small side. Entranced by her bosom, Seamus stumbles over ordering his butterbeer.
Dean can't stop staring at Seamus as he stares at Madam Rosmerta. There's a twisting, seething, nasty feeling in his gut and he doesn't know what it is. He really wishes he had Seamus's talent with words so that he can identify it. As it is, he's abrupt and rude as he orders his butterbeer.
Neville can't stop staring at Dean staring at Seamus staring at Madam Rosmerta. He knows that twisted look on Dean's face for what it is, jealousy. Things – dynamics, friendships, life – are changing and Neville would be quite happy skipping this part. He sighs and then orders a butterbeer resignedly.
Their table is quiet as they sip their drinks. This isn't at all what any of them thought Hogsmeade would be like. Seamus looks around and wonders why everyone else is so quiet so he talks even more. Dean glowers at one and all while Neville just watches the volleying. Neville finally broaches the subject of moving on once their drinks are empty and Seamus and Dean glare at one another and the room.
When they walk into Honeyduke's, the morass of emotions in the Three Broomsticks is forgotten amidst the bright colours and laughter and candy. Seamus buys Dean some taffy and Dean smiles and offers to get Neville a chocolate bar. Neville buys some Bertie Bott's and they proceed to talk and eat as they walk back to Hogwarts.
Pairing: Seamus/Neville
Prompt: First taste of alcohol
Length: 546 words
It goes down smooth, gliding along Neville's throat and cascading into his stomach like a golden waterfall. It's warm, like the summer rain he'd danced in with his mouth hanging open, just outside of Gran's sight. It's an amazingly free feeling, that slow gentle glide of liquid along his esophagus.
Then it bursts to angry life, just like his Gran when she'd caught him in the rain. The molten fire screams and yells at him just like Gran, "get inside right this very minute! Whatever am I going to do with you, running about with your mouth open like a mutton-headed fool?!" It chastises him harshly and Neville immediately regrets the impulse to succumb to Seamus's taunts and drink the Firewhisky.
"Liked that, did you?" Seamus asks while an evil glint twinkles in his eye. Neville glares back, unable to formulate words in response for fear of the whisky bursting into flames out his mouth.
After hours that are really minutes, Neville finally sputters, a cloud of smoke puffing out between his lips, "Your turn."
Seamus winks, that evil twinkle still there, and then tosses the entire shot back. His neck arches and Neville will later swear it was all the Firewhisky talking when he thinks that he'd really quite like to lean in and lick that curve, taste that jut in his neck and all that exposed skin. He's shocked into inattention and so the burst of flames in front of his face causes him to dance back, falling over his chair and landing with a resounding clatter. The rest of the inhabitants of the Room of Requirement look over and laugh and then go back to their conversations.
Seamus's laughter rings out the loudest and Neville flushes. He's always knocking in to things or stumbling and, just once, he'd quite like to not be such a klutz. There's a hand in his face and Neville grasps it without thinking. He allows himself to be hauled up and then crashes into Seamus, jaw hitting forehead, and flushes once more.
"Careful there, Nev, you'd think you'd never tasted alcohol before." Seamus takes a tiny step back while rubbing at his head and Neville misses the warmth of that chest-to-chest touch.
"It was, actually," he admits quietly.
"You're fucking with me," Seamus says loudly.
"Not, it really was. No time, really, and, well, no opportunity."
""Well, going to have to rectify that, aren't we?" Seamus winks with that glint once more and then pours another round.
This time, Neville is prepared for the jut of flame and lets loose with one of his own. Round after round after round follows as everyone else drifts off to bed. Neville's feeling mellow but as more rounds progress, he gets more daring and, after his sixth (or was it his ninth?) shot, he reaches a hand out and touches Seamus's neck.
"What'd you do that for?" The twinkle turns into an odd glint that Neville's never seen before and he doesn't quite know how to react.
"Wanted to, for awhile. Rather lick it, though, to be honest." The words are out without thought and Neville claps his hands over his mouth as if to shove them back in.
"Oh yeah?" Seamus asks. Neville, quite reluctantly, nods. "Well, then, go ahead."
Pairing: Seamus/Dean
Prompt: Rainstorm Snogging
Length: 424 words
Seamus absolutely refuses to let go of Dean there in the rain outside of the Tube entrance. Dean goes to walk off and Seamus pulls him back by their entwined hands so that they bump chest to chest. He reaches a hand up, digging his fingers into Dean's short locks and then kisses him. It's needy and messy and wet but Seamus doesn't care because he just can't seem to let go of Dean.
Each tug, as time ticks past, Dean rolls his eyes and kisses him back, indulging Seamus and the public display of affection that just isn't his type of thing, normally. It – the tug and kiss and walk away and tug and kiss and – has already happened four times. He's a mite annoyed but Dean allows himself to be pulled back and kissed there in the pouring rain.
This is a big opportunity for Dean – this trip to Paris to study art – and they'd both talked and agreed that the very long separation would be fine and they could deal with and but but but talking's one thing and doing's another. The reality is that neither wants the separation, that both fear what time will do. Will Seamus meet someone else that works at the Ministry with him? Maybe long lunches while they flirt? Will Dean meet someone that actually understands his artistic ramblings that make Seamus's eyes glaze over? The possibilities keep churning in the heads and guts so this game of tug appeals to both of them.
Time marches on as they repeat the tug and kiss and walk for the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth time. All too soon, it's absolutely-without-a-doubt-the-point-of-no-return time and Seamus tugs one last time. They both pretend that it's only rain coursing down their faces as they kiss. Hands touch and map one another in an attempt to imprint, remember, as much as they can for as long as they can.
Then it's beyond the point of no return and Seamus steps back, says, "I'll be seeing you," and walks away quickly without a backwards glance. It's tough for him not to turn for another look but they'd agreed that this was the way they'd do it. Dean turns as well and walks into the station and down the stairs to the platform, not looking back until there's only a tunnel to see, no Seamus and no rain soaked kisses.
Both can still taste the other and both reach up, touch finger to lip, and embed the taste while separated. It's got to be enough.
Pairing: James/Sirius
Prompt: "Come on, Ireland!"
Length: 252 words
The game's tied: 270 to 270. Sirius, fool that he was and still is, has quite a bit of money riding on the outcome of this game. He's glued to the Wireless as it broadcasts the game. The play by play description of the action makes him jump and flail his fists. As Spain scores, sending them up 280 to Ireland's 270, Sirius shouts, "Come on, Ireland!"
"Thank God Lily and Harry are out else you'd wake the baby," James says as he walks through the door into the parlour.
"Sod off, I've a lot riding on this game." Sirius tosses an all too familiar rude gesture towards James.
James responds with a growl, running across the room and throwing himself onto Sirius where he sits on the sofa. They start to wrestle which shifts from aggressive to need touching without either realising. Touching turns to kissing when James cups Sirius's face and there's a moment of staring and then it shifts, eyes close and mouths meet. Hands, suddenly frantic, tug at clothing and there's a tinkling noise as a button skitters across the hardwood floor.
"And Shaunnessy has the Snitch! Ireland wins!" The announcer's voice interrupts and, in his moment of excitement at winning a hundred galleons off Frank Longbottom, Sirius stands and dumps James to the floor. A pissed off snarl answers him and then he's tugged to the floor. "You'll be explaining the bruises to Lily."
"You going to explain why I'm walking funny?" Sirius replies with a leer.
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I appreciate the comment!!!