Fic: The Frog Pimp for Fullmoon_Dreams
Nov. 28th, 2012 08:56 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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small_giftsTitle: The Frog Pimp: A Tale of Bad Portkeys, Ill-advised Comments, and Christmas Cheer
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brighty18
Recipient: Forfullmoon_dreams who wanted: A dodgy portkey sends Remus and Sirius somewhere unexpected” and “a fairy tale fic.” Merry Christmas, love! I hope you like this!
Rating: R
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *Silliness bordering on crack, feminist diatribes, ugly footwear, foolish teenaged girls, amphibious sex workers, needless self-reference, and lots of gratuitous swearing *
Word count: About 3,700
Summary: Peter makes a dodgy portkey, Remus and Sirius insult a series of fictional characters, and everyone nearly misses Christmas
Notes: First off, HUGE thanks to my fabulous beta,cackling_madly. You saved me at the last minute and helped make this story readable. Also, there are some small references to last year’s story, Curse of the Mistletoe. It is hardly necessary to read it, but in case y’all want back-story it’s there.
The scene is a late December afternoon, just before the Christmas holidays and our heroes are gathered in the Gryffindor Common Room.
“Why in bloody hell does it have a goldfish inside of it?” asked Sirius, poking a dubious finger at the zebra-striped disco boot. The plastic fish inside the heel merely gave him a baleful glance and continued to swim in a small, tight circle. “It doesn’t make a bit if sense,” he added.
Remus opened his mouth to reply, but quickly snapped it shut. His knowledge of disco culture was limited to a few late-night encounters with his father’s magicked Muggle television, so he considered himself in no position to offer an opinion. Besides, it looked like rather dodgy magic, anyway, and any comment he might make would surely exacerbate the situation.
“And isn’t it generally considered a bad idea to make a Portkey out of a hybrid Muggle-Wizarding object? Especially when you’ve never done one before?” asked James as if reading Remus’ mind.
Sirius and Remus nodded in agreement.
“No, not at all,” said Peter. “I made this myself out of the remaining shoe of my uncle’s favourite pair; he lost the other one in a tragic gardening accident. It’s called a ‘pimp boot,’ I do believe, and I’m quite sure it is all set to take us to James’ house for the Christmas hols.” He beamed at his magical creation as if restraining himself from actually reaching down, picking it up, and hugging the fantastical piece of footwear.
“I’ll resist inquiring as to why growing plants could result in the death of a shoe,” began Sirius, trying desperately not to think about the fate of the other unfortunate plastic fish. As if in response, the fish in the heel shook his head violently and put a transparent fin to his thick, fishy lips.
James laughed aloud, “Be that as it may, I do have to ask, what the hell is a pimp?”
“I think it’s like a prince,” replied Peter.
Remus, who was quite sure that a pimp was not, in fact, any sort of royalty, again debated speaking up. Last time someone had questioned Peter’s logic, the conversation had ended in anger, tears, and Sirius spending the entire rest of the evening with a sparkly-pink unicorn horn protruding from his forehead. And amusing as that was at the time, Remus was not about to start a repeat. They were already late for Christmas holidays, having intentionally missed the Hogwarts Express in favour of Transfiguring all the furniture in the Slytherin Common Room into wool-eating zombies. “That fish is rather cute, really,” he offered noncommittally.
“I saw this Muggle movie once, Pete,” Sirius said as politely as humanly possible considering what was clearly their impending doom. “And I’m not so sure that a pimp and prince are really the same thing. In fact, I think that it just might be a…”
“GOOD IDEA TO GET ON WITH THIS…” interrupted Remus far too loudly for even his own ears. The last thing he wanted at the start of Christmas hols was an all-Marauder argument. No matter how horrifying a situation might be, it was often prudent to just keep one’s mouth shut about it.
Peter, who looked a bit crest-fallen, crossed his arms and sulked. “But that’s what the mistletoe explained said it was,” he muttered.
“What mistletoe?” asked Sirius with trepidation. After last year’s dreadful holiday experience, he was far from willing to trust that evil plant as far as he could throw it.
“The mistletoe that always hangs here,” replied Peter. “He told me all about how to make Portkeys and everything.” He looked around the room as if for confirmation, but the little green bugger must have scurried off into a corner. “And he was very apologetic about last year and all that,” he added meekly.
“This does not bode well, mates,” whispered Sirius, backing slowly away from the disco boot Portkey.
Peter’s face grew to a shade darker than his Gryffindor scarf. “I do SO know what I’m doing,” he growled. He stomped a fat, angry foot, words of hurt and confusion seething beneath the surface of his usually jovial disposition. “You lot never trust me with anything!”
“That’s not true, Peter,” said Remus kindly. “It’s just that Portkeys are… erm… well... difficult and the results are so… erm… critical.” Truth be told, on some hidden level he actually meant that. So Peter wasn’t the most talented wizard of the group, he could still manage to hold his own.
“Of course we trust you, mate,” added Sirius, furiously back-peddling from his last, unwise comment. Even he knew when to back down from a potential fight. Always astute, Sirius was not unaware that he had a bad reputation for ill-timed comments that would have been better left unsaid. And he was not about to be yet another example of his tendency toward verbal vomiting. “You’re our mate, right? And you’re ace at Charms. And we couldn’t make it through the Willow without you, yeah?”
Peter looked skeptical, but nodded slowly.
“It’s just that I’m… erm… secretly afraid of Portkeys.” Sirius did his best to ignore the myriad looks of surprise and disbelief his friends were giving. It was a well-known fact that Sirius Black was afraid of very little – much less ugly footwear. In fact, just last week he’d Charmed his favourite pair of boots a blinding shade of turquoise just for the fun of it.
Without warning, James’ hand was on his back. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Padfoot,” he said consolingly. Nevertheless, his boot-clad foot shot out and kicked his best friend hard in the shin. “Just go along with this,” he hissed. “We don’t want to upset Peter again. Remember last time?”
“Fine,” spat Sirius. He glared at the fish-filled boot. From inside the heel, the fish just shrugged and shook his head.
Sirius steeled his courage. “Okay, Moony, you all set? The boot is quite small, so it’s best to take it in pairs, yeah? You ready for some Christmas fun? And for some of Potter’s mum’s famed roast beef?” Even he could not deny that his affirmations sounded lame.
“Erm, I… I… suppose,” stuttered Remus, knowing perfectly well what he was getting himself into. Shoddy magic was one thing, but shoddy magic involving tacky footwear was another. This was worse that Sirius’ bloody turquoise boots - and those offended his aesthetics to the very core. And to know that their former sworn enemy, the vengeful mistletoe known as GT-507, might have been involved did little to help the situation. Still, he was a Marauder and he was meant to be brave. “Fine then,” he cried, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand. “Let’s get on with it.”
“I don’t know that I’d do that if I were you,” came a gloomy, plasticy, underwater voice, and a small twitter of botanical laughter floated down from somewhere in the dark recesses of the Common Room rafters.
But Remus ignored it all. “Ready, Pads?” he asked, reaching for the shoe.
The world tilted dangerously sideways, stomachs lurched, and suddenly our heroes found themselves not in the Potter’s famously over-decorated living room with it’s towering tree covered in silver, exploding ornaments, but in the middle of the deepest, darkest forest they had every seen. “Bloody buggering fuck,” said Sirius.
“Shhhh,” admonished Remus. “I think someone is coming.”
Silently, and, frankly, without really knowing why, the two Wizards concealed themselves in the over-grown foliage that seemed to line the path they were apparently on. Moments later, a teenaged girl in a rather over-bright red cloak that did nothing for her pale complexion came skipping down the path. “Tra la la, tra la la,” she sang.
“What the hell is she thinking wearing that?" hissed Sirius. “The colour utterly washes her out. She’s not ugly, but would likely look far better in a nice shade of blue or maybe even a…”
“EXCUSE ME?” cried the scarlet-clad fashion mistake. “MY GRANDMOTHER GAVE ME THIS CLOAK TO PROTECT ME FROM WOLVES.” Removing a sticky-bun from her basket she hurled it angrily at the bush the boys were hiding in.
Emerging from the shrubbery, Sirius dusted himself off and awarded his new friend what he assumed was his most charming grin. “That’s all very well,” he began, “but could she not have found one in, say, a nice shade of azure? Pale blondes don’t look so well in red. It’s more a brunette’s color really. But a nice cerulean would truly bring out your eyes and…”
“Who the hell ARE you, anyway?” spat the blonde.
“I’m Remus and this my… erm… ’friend’ Sirius,” offered Remus with a wan smile.
“He’s seriously annoying is what he is,” muttered the girl, before recovering her composure and extending her hand. “Your friend is a pretentious arse,” she said by way of introduction.
Sirius just grunted and looked away.
“You, on the other hand,” she said coyly, running her eyes all over Remus’ well-robed body, “are rather attractive.” She looked him up and down and grinned seductively. “Are you a wolf, by chance?”
“A wolf,” squeaked Remus, backing slowly away. “What… whatever makes you think that?”
“Well…,” drawled the girl, “Wolves are handsome and sexy and just made to lead innocent young ladies off their paths.” She grabbed a handful of Remus’ robes and pulled him closer with a mighty force utterly foreign to her tiny frame. “They’re the ones who… you know… help us become women.”
Remus, who had no intention of helping anyone become a woman - much less an iron-fisted fashion fax-pas - wriggled silently in her clutches.
“Back off, you washed-out hussy,” Sirius cried, throwing himself between Remus and his attacker in an attempt to disengage Remus’ robes from the girl’s unwisely red-lacquered fingernails. “He’s mine.”
“The hell he is,” she snapped.
Remus squirmed, Sirius pried, and the girl clawed until a booming, masculine voice shook the air. “WELL, HO THERE! CEASE IMMEDIATELY THY TUSSLE!” A green-clad horseman emerged from the shadows, towering over the still-struggling trio and brandishing a large, rather distressing-looking hunting knife.
“What the fuck?” chorused Sirius and Remus. But the girl in red just smiled.
“Are these brigands menacing you, young lady?” asked the huntsman.
“Brigands?” huffed Remus indignantly.
“Who the hell talks like that?” added Sirius.
“I do,” answered the verdant stranger, “and I shall give you the count of five to unhand this fair maiden and make your escape.”
“She’s certainly too fair for that colour,” scoffed Sirius, adding, “And I highly doubt she’s still a maiden.”
“EXCUSE ME? Just what are you implying?” shrieked the girl.
Sirius started to reply, but found himself dragged bodily away by his panting boyfriend.
“Run, Pads,” huffed Remus. “And for gods’ sake don’t stop to talk to anyone. That’s what got us into this bloody mess in the first place!”
“Actually,” replied a panting Sirius, “it was that damn shoe…” He meant to go on, really, chipping away at any favour he’d curried earlier by being nice to Peter, but instead found himself confronted by the sudden appearance of a solid brick wall that had somehow managed to materialize in front of them.
“Ouch!” yelled Remus, smacking face-first into the obstacle.
“Shit,” added Sirius before knocking himself out cold.
“Hellllooooo!” called a melodious female voice. “Are you charming chaps injured? I heard a distressing amount of cursing down there.”
Dazed from his encounter with the wall, Remus looked around rather blindly. Yes, there was the wall, seemingly part of a tower, as it turned out, but as far as he could discern there was neither door nor window nor staircase to be found. Could it have been the wall that was speaking to them? “Erm… Mister Wall,” he began. “Do you happen to have any ice?”
“Oh, dear, at least one of you seems to be delusional,” trilled the melodies voice. “I fear you’re talking to inanimate objects.”
Sirius writhed about the forest floor, clutching his forehead and moaning, as Remus struggled to regain his composure. “With all due respect, the question of whether or not one is quite inanimate hardly makes a difference in where I come from, Mister Wall,” he said.
“I’m neither a wall nor a mister,” laughed the voice. “And, though I am sure that my mother – the wretched witch who locked me in this hell hole in the first place – would approve greatly of your inability to recognize gender, I, on the other hand, am quite offended.”
“I heard that, young lady!” shouted someone from the interior of the tower. “It’s called ‘gender neutral language’ and you would do well to pick it up. It’s women like you with your blind allegiance to out-dated cultural images of gender who help encourage the Patriarchy.”
“Huh?” asked Remus.
“Shut-up, Mum,” whined the melodious voice.
“Moony, do you have a rag? My bleeding head is bleeding,” murmured Sirius.
A tiny fragment of sheer, rose-scented silk floated down from what Remus could only assume was the tower’s crown, and he looked up to see a petite girl with long, shimmering corn-silk hair waving to him from an upper window. He picked up the lace-edged handkerchief and attempted to gently dab the blood off of Sirius’ forehead. Unsurprisingly, the action did little more than smear the blood about and make his boyfriend flinch.
“And what, pray tell, is he supposed to do with that useless thing?” growled the muffled voice from the tower’s depths. “A young person requests medical attention and you provide him with a poorly-chosen accessory? What in heaven’s name were you thinking?” With a slight popping sound, a bowl of warm, soapy water, a clean, dry rag, and a small vial marked “Healing Potion” appeared, floating several inches above Sirius’ head. “There,” continued the voice, “that is what he needs.”
“Muuuuuuuuuumsy,” the long-haired teen complained through gritted teeth, “Leave me alone. I’m talking to a boy… and a handsome one at that!” She waved gaily at Sirius who smiled weakly in return.
Wishing himself invisible, Remus dipped the rag into the water and began cleaning his boyfriend’s wound. Thankfully, it wasn’t too deep and a few drops of the Healing Potion seemed to clear up the worst of the bruising. Sirius smiled blearily up at him whilst the invisible, overhead argument continued.
“And you think that you’ll get his attention by allowing him to bleed to death? What sort of idiot logic is that? It’s a common mistake for women to believe that helplessness is attractive, but I thought I’d raised you better than that, Rapunzel! This is almost as bad as that bloody trick with the tower.”
“Wait,” said Remus, nearly dropping Sirius’ head he’d been cradling. “What trick with what tower?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the in-tower voice apologized. “This is my daughter’s little joke. She makes the door invisible and then attempts to goad innocent passers-by into trying to rescue her by telling them some cock-and-bull story about how I locked her in there. Locked her up, indeed! She’s only imprisoned by her own gender perception!”
“Not all passers-by,” amended an indignant Rapunzel. “Only the handsome ones.”
“Why thank you, love,” began Sirius before Remus swatted him back into submission.
“And a fine job you did on this one,” laughed Rapunzel’s mother. “Bollocksed it up right well, you did, for clearly – handsome or not – these lads have not the slightest interest in the likes of you.”
“Excuse me?” squealed Rapunzel. “And just why not?”
Blushing furiously, Remus attempted to throw Sirius’ prone body over his shoulder and slink away into the forest. He’d had quite enough of this, thank you very much, and he knew full well that whatever was coming next, certainly would not be pleasant.
“Just look at them,” urged Rapunzel’s unseen mother. “Use your bloody brain for once!”
Rapunzel gazed blankly at the two cuddling wizards before emitting a slight squeak of terror. “Ew!” she cried. “They’re poufs! Gross!”
Remus blanched.
Sirius laughed.
Rapunzel blew her nose on the secondary hanky she pulled from the bodice of her tight-fitting pink dress.
“For gods’ sake, Rapunzel, what have I repeatedly told you about respecting the gender and sexual identities of others? And about not policing their sexuality?”
“Whatever, Mum,” huffed Rapunzel. “You’re old and just don’t understand what it’s like to be me.”
“I understand more than you realize, young lady. And I am certainly aware of the manner in which your words and behaviour harm all the marginalized members of society.“
“Puh-leeze,” scoffed Rapunzel. “All I want out of life is to marry a handsome prince, and what do I get? A load of feminist nonsense and couple of stupid poufs!”
“Homosexuals, Rapunzel, and, for that matter, we don't know how they identify. And, as I have said many times, a prince is merely a cis-gendered male who comes from a place of great privilege and whose wealth is derived from oppressing the working class, colonialist actions, and exerting dominance over indigenous peoples. Is that really what you want in a husband?”
Remus leaned down and whispered in his boyfriend’s ear. “Can you walk, Pads? Or, better yet, run? Let’s get the hell out of here! These people are all stark-raving mad.”
“They’re all stark-raving blonde, laughed Sirius. “And they’re brilliant.”
“You’re mad, too,” Remus said with a sigh. He pulled Sirius to his feet, brushing the abundance of dirt and twigs off his robes. “Now let’s go,” he hissed. “Before these two mad birds notice.”
“I quite like the mother actually,” began Sirius, “though I rather suspect that she’s blonde, too.”
“What’s wrong with blondes?” asked Remus, but the answer was lost in a fit of fleeing feet, panting breath, and the distant screech of arguing women.
On and on ran the pair, stray branches from too-close trees scratching at faces and tearing robes. At one point, Remus got a terrible stitch in his side, but Sirius quickly healed it with a wordless spell. “Just keep going, love,” he urged. “We have to find a way out of this horrid place.”
Then, just as the sun began to sink lower onto the horizon and the blue-grey gloom of the woods closed in around them, Remus tripped over a log. “Bloody buggering fuck,” he whimpered, as Sirius stopped to help him up.
“Yo,” croaked a voice. “Wha-a-a-a-t u-u-u-up?”
And Remus and Sirius looked up to see a large, green frog wearing a bright yellow fedora, a floor-length (or, rather lily-pad length) rabbit-fur coat, and the smallest pair of zebra-striped disco boots the wizards had ever seen.
“Yo,” said the frog.
“Nice shoes,” said Sirius, leaning down to inspect them closely. Yes, just as he suspected, teeny, tiny fish – nearly invisible to the naked eye - swam in the heels.
“Thanks,” said the frog. “I’m Theo, the Frog Pimp.”
“The Frog… Pimp?” murmured Remus under his breath. He wondered vaguely if Peter had been right all along. Sure, his mum had read him Muggle fairy tales about frog princes and such, but what if this was what she was really on about? Merlin knows that, over the years, most fairy tales had been cleaned-up and sanitized to become more suitable for the modern, childish ear. It was quite possible that “kissing the frog” meant something else entirely.
“Yup!” croaked the frog. “And those are my bitches.”
Remus and Sirius looked over to see a small pond full of overly made-up lady frogs, most of whom were wearing micro-minis and stilettos. One of them smiled seductively at Sirius and winked. “Oi! I get it now!” he exclaimed. “A pimp is a kind of…”
“…well-dressed amphibian business-owner,” finished Remus.
“Yeah, right,” laughed the Frog Pimp kicking up his feet.
“Erm…” began Sirius, “I fully realize how frightfully strange this might sound, but might we… erm… touch your shoes? Please?”
For a brief moment, the Frog Pimp looked perplexed. “Yo, man, I’ve heard of some strange-ass fetishes before, but this takes the cake.”
“Fetish?” sputtered Remus. “No… no… it’s really a…”
“Fetish!” confirmed Sirius, jamming and elbow into Remus’ ribs. “Just go along with this, Moony,” he whispered.
The frog extended his webbed and booted foot. “Shit!” he exclaimed, “I ought to charge you for this – nothing's free, yo – but this’ll make some fantastic-ass story to tell my friends. No one’ll believe it: a couple of crazed, disheveled homosexuals running around in the woods and asking to caress my footwear? Fan-freakin-tastic!”
“How did you know we were gay?” asked an indignant Remus.
“Oh, honey, it’s obvious,” said one of the female frogs. “Just look at yourselves.”
A retort rose to Remus’ throat, but he thought the better of it. It had been a long day and he’d had more than enough experience with ill-advised comments to last him a lifetime. So, instead, he merely smiled and fished a couple of Galleons out of Sirius’ pocket. “For your troubles,” he said to the Frog Pimp.
“Thanks!” said the frog, wiggling his foot in the air. “And go ahead.” He closed his bulbous eyes as if preparing for the worst.
“You ready, Moony?” whispered Sirius, taking his boyfriend’s hand. “I have no idea whether this will work or not, but we should at least give it a chance.”
And, with that our heroes reached out and placed a single finger each on the Frog Pimp’s shiny disco boot and shut their eyes tightly. Again the world lurched dangerously to the left and the two wizards felt the familiar tugs in their bellies. For a moment, Remus thought he might be physically ill, but when he opened his eyes he discovered that they were once again in the Gryffindor Common Room. A fire burned merrily in the grate, but other than that they were greeted with dead silence.
“Where the hell are Wormtail and Prongs?” asked Sirius after a moment’s recovery.
“Oh, they’ll be back shortly,” twittered voice from the rafters. Our heroes looked up to see their botanical nemesis, the mistletoe known as GT-507, laughing hysterically as it clutched its berries in mirth. “They had quite the adventure, too, I am sure, but they’re not stuck there forever.”
“You bloody arse! I’ll fucking kill you!” bellowed Sirius, drawing his wand. But Remus caught his hand and forced it down.
“Never mind, Pads. I fear we’ll just make it worse,” he cautioned.
GT-507 just snorted.
“Come on, Pads, let’s get some sleep. James and Peter will be back any moment and we’ll work out how to get home for Christmas in the morning.” He yawned deeply and took Sirius’ hand, slowly leading him up the steps of the tower. It had been a long and eventful day, full of annoying fictional characters and stupid, misguided remarks. Christmas Day was drawing near, and all he wanted to do was curl up next to Sirius and get some rest.
Sirius, for his part, was just as tired and perhaps even more anxious to get to bed. After all, sleep was only part of what he had in mind and it had been far too long since he’d given his Moony a good snogging. “Good night, stupid mistletoe,” he called over his shoulder. “And Happy Christmas!”
Hours later, long after our two heroes were lost in deep, cuddly slumber, a loud popping sound filled the Common Room.
“What in bloody hell was that all about?” grumbled James, picking himself up off the floor.
But Peter remained silent. In all honestly, it had been too long a day to discuss.
Author/Artist:
brighty18Recipient: For
fullmoon_dreams who wanted: A dodgy portkey sends Remus and Sirius somewhere unexpected” and “a fairy tale fic.” Merry Christmas, love! I hope you like this!Rating: R
Contents or warnings (highlight to view): *Silliness bordering on crack, feminist diatribes, ugly footwear, foolish teenaged girls, amphibious sex workers, needless self-reference, and lots of gratuitous swearing *
Word count: About 3,700
Summary: Peter makes a dodgy portkey, Remus and Sirius insult a series of fictional characters, and everyone nearly misses Christmas
Notes: First off, HUGE thanks to my fabulous beta,
cackling_madly. You saved me at the last minute and helped make this story readable. Also, there are some small references to last year’s story, Curse of the Mistletoe. It is hardly necessary to read it, but in case y’all want back-story it’s there.The scene is a late December afternoon, just before the Christmas holidays and our heroes are gathered in the Gryffindor Common Room.
“Why in bloody hell does it have a goldfish inside of it?” asked Sirius, poking a dubious finger at the zebra-striped disco boot. The plastic fish inside the heel merely gave him a baleful glance and continued to swim in a small, tight circle. “It doesn’t make a bit if sense,” he added.
Remus opened his mouth to reply, but quickly snapped it shut. His knowledge of disco culture was limited to a few late-night encounters with his father’s magicked Muggle television, so he considered himself in no position to offer an opinion. Besides, it looked like rather dodgy magic, anyway, and any comment he might make would surely exacerbate the situation.
“And isn’t it generally considered a bad idea to make a Portkey out of a hybrid Muggle-Wizarding object? Especially when you’ve never done one before?” asked James as if reading Remus’ mind.
Sirius and Remus nodded in agreement.
“No, not at all,” said Peter. “I made this myself out of the remaining shoe of my uncle’s favourite pair; he lost the other one in a tragic gardening accident. It’s called a ‘pimp boot,’ I do believe, and I’m quite sure it is all set to take us to James’ house for the Christmas hols.” He beamed at his magical creation as if restraining himself from actually reaching down, picking it up, and hugging the fantastical piece of footwear.
“I’ll resist inquiring as to why growing plants could result in the death of a shoe,” began Sirius, trying desperately not to think about the fate of the other unfortunate plastic fish. As if in response, the fish in the heel shook his head violently and put a transparent fin to his thick, fishy lips.
James laughed aloud, “Be that as it may, I do have to ask, what the hell is a pimp?”
“I think it’s like a prince,” replied Peter.
Remus, who was quite sure that a pimp was not, in fact, any sort of royalty, again debated speaking up. Last time someone had questioned Peter’s logic, the conversation had ended in anger, tears, and Sirius spending the entire rest of the evening with a sparkly-pink unicorn horn protruding from his forehead. And amusing as that was at the time, Remus was not about to start a repeat. They were already late for Christmas holidays, having intentionally missed the Hogwarts Express in favour of Transfiguring all the furniture in the Slytherin Common Room into wool-eating zombies. “That fish is rather cute, really,” he offered noncommittally.
“I saw this Muggle movie once, Pete,” Sirius said as politely as humanly possible considering what was clearly their impending doom. “And I’m not so sure that a pimp and prince are really the same thing. In fact, I think that it just might be a…”
“GOOD IDEA TO GET ON WITH THIS…” interrupted Remus far too loudly for even his own ears. The last thing he wanted at the start of Christmas hols was an all-Marauder argument. No matter how horrifying a situation might be, it was often prudent to just keep one’s mouth shut about it.
Peter, who looked a bit crest-fallen, crossed his arms and sulked. “But that’s what the mistletoe explained said it was,” he muttered.
“What mistletoe?” asked Sirius with trepidation. After last year’s dreadful holiday experience, he was far from willing to trust that evil plant as far as he could throw it.
“The mistletoe that always hangs here,” replied Peter. “He told me all about how to make Portkeys and everything.” He looked around the room as if for confirmation, but the little green bugger must have scurried off into a corner. “And he was very apologetic about last year and all that,” he added meekly.
“This does not bode well, mates,” whispered Sirius, backing slowly away from the disco boot Portkey.
Peter’s face grew to a shade darker than his Gryffindor scarf. “I do SO know what I’m doing,” he growled. He stomped a fat, angry foot, words of hurt and confusion seething beneath the surface of his usually jovial disposition. “You lot never trust me with anything!”
“That’s not true, Peter,” said Remus kindly. “It’s just that Portkeys are… erm… well... difficult and the results are so… erm… critical.” Truth be told, on some hidden level he actually meant that. So Peter wasn’t the most talented wizard of the group, he could still manage to hold his own.
“Of course we trust you, mate,” added Sirius, furiously back-peddling from his last, unwise comment. Even he knew when to back down from a potential fight. Always astute, Sirius was not unaware that he had a bad reputation for ill-timed comments that would have been better left unsaid. And he was not about to be yet another example of his tendency toward verbal vomiting. “You’re our mate, right? And you’re ace at Charms. And we couldn’t make it through the Willow without you, yeah?”
Peter looked skeptical, but nodded slowly.
“It’s just that I’m… erm… secretly afraid of Portkeys.” Sirius did his best to ignore the myriad looks of surprise and disbelief his friends were giving. It was a well-known fact that Sirius Black was afraid of very little – much less ugly footwear. In fact, just last week he’d Charmed his favourite pair of boots a blinding shade of turquoise just for the fun of it.
Without warning, James’ hand was on his back. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Padfoot,” he said consolingly. Nevertheless, his boot-clad foot shot out and kicked his best friend hard in the shin. “Just go along with this,” he hissed. “We don’t want to upset Peter again. Remember last time?”
“Fine,” spat Sirius. He glared at the fish-filled boot. From inside the heel, the fish just shrugged and shook his head.
Sirius steeled his courage. “Okay, Moony, you all set? The boot is quite small, so it’s best to take it in pairs, yeah? You ready for some Christmas fun? And for some of Potter’s mum’s famed roast beef?” Even he could not deny that his affirmations sounded lame.
“Erm, I… I… suppose,” stuttered Remus, knowing perfectly well what he was getting himself into. Shoddy magic was one thing, but shoddy magic involving tacky footwear was another. This was worse that Sirius’ bloody turquoise boots - and those offended his aesthetics to the very core. And to know that their former sworn enemy, the vengeful mistletoe known as GT-507, might have been involved did little to help the situation. Still, he was a Marauder and he was meant to be brave. “Fine then,” he cried, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand. “Let’s get on with it.”
“I don’t know that I’d do that if I were you,” came a gloomy, plasticy, underwater voice, and a small twitter of botanical laughter floated down from somewhere in the dark recesses of the Common Room rafters.
But Remus ignored it all. “Ready, Pads?” he asked, reaching for the shoe.
The world tilted dangerously sideways, stomachs lurched, and suddenly our heroes found themselves not in the Potter’s famously over-decorated living room with it’s towering tree covered in silver, exploding ornaments, but in the middle of the deepest, darkest forest they had every seen. “Bloody buggering fuck,” said Sirius.
“Shhhh,” admonished Remus. “I think someone is coming.”
Silently, and, frankly, without really knowing why, the two Wizards concealed themselves in the over-grown foliage that seemed to line the path they were apparently on. Moments later, a teenaged girl in a rather over-bright red cloak that did nothing for her pale complexion came skipping down the path. “Tra la la, tra la la,” she sang.
“What the hell is she thinking wearing that?" hissed Sirius. “The colour utterly washes her out. She’s not ugly, but would likely look far better in a nice shade of blue or maybe even a…”
“EXCUSE ME?” cried the scarlet-clad fashion mistake. “MY GRANDMOTHER GAVE ME THIS CLOAK TO PROTECT ME FROM WOLVES.” Removing a sticky-bun from her basket she hurled it angrily at the bush the boys were hiding in.
Emerging from the shrubbery, Sirius dusted himself off and awarded his new friend what he assumed was his most charming grin. “That’s all very well,” he began, “but could she not have found one in, say, a nice shade of azure? Pale blondes don’t look so well in red. It’s more a brunette’s color really. But a nice cerulean would truly bring out your eyes and…”
“Who the hell ARE you, anyway?” spat the blonde.
“I’m Remus and this my… erm… ’friend’ Sirius,” offered Remus with a wan smile.
“He’s seriously annoying is what he is,” muttered the girl, before recovering her composure and extending her hand. “Your friend is a pretentious arse,” she said by way of introduction.
Sirius just grunted and looked away.
“You, on the other hand,” she said coyly, running her eyes all over Remus’ well-robed body, “are rather attractive.” She looked him up and down and grinned seductively. “Are you a wolf, by chance?”
“A wolf,” squeaked Remus, backing slowly away. “What… whatever makes you think that?”
“Well…,” drawled the girl, “Wolves are handsome and sexy and just made to lead innocent young ladies off their paths.” She grabbed a handful of Remus’ robes and pulled him closer with a mighty force utterly foreign to her tiny frame. “They’re the ones who… you know… help us become women.”
Remus, who had no intention of helping anyone become a woman - much less an iron-fisted fashion fax-pas - wriggled silently in her clutches.
“Back off, you washed-out hussy,” Sirius cried, throwing himself between Remus and his attacker in an attempt to disengage Remus’ robes from the girl’s unwisely red-lacquered fingernails. “He’s mine.”
“The hell he is,” she snapped.
Remus squirmed, Sirius pried, and the girl clawed until a booming, masculine voice shook the air. “WELL, HO THERE! CEASE IMMEDIATELY THY TUSSLE!” A green-clad horseman emerged from the shadows, towering over the still-struggling trio and brandishing a large, rather distressing-looking hunting knife.
“What the fuck?” chorused Sirius and Remus. But the girl in red just smiled.
“Are these brigands menacing you, young lady?” asked the huntsman.
“Brigands?” huffed Remus indignantly.
“Who the hell talks like that?” added Sirius.
“I do,” answered the verdant stranger, “and I shall give you the count of five to unhand this fair maiden and make your escape.”
“She’s certainly too fair for that colour,” scoffed Sirius, adding, “And I highly doubt she’s still a maiden.”
“EXCUSE ME? Just what are you implying?” shrieked the girl.
Sirius started to reply, but found himself dragged bodily away by his panting boyfriend.
“Run, Pads,” huffed Remus. “And for gods’ sake don’t stop to talk to anyone. That’s what got us into this bloody mess in the first place!”
“Actually,” replied a panting Sirius, “it was that damn shoe…” He meant to go on, really, chipping away at any favour he’d curried earlier by being nice to Peter, but instead found himself confronted by the sudden appearance of a solid brick wall that had somehow managed to materialize in front of them.
“Ouch!” yelled Remus, smacking face-first into the obstacle.
“Shit,” added Sirius before knocking himself out cold.
“Hellllooooo!” called a melodious female voice. “Are you charming chaps injured? I heard a distressing amount of cursing down there.”
Dazed from his encounter with the wall, Remus looked around rather blindly. Yes, there was the wall, seemingly part of a tower, as it turned out, but as far as he could discern there was neither door nor window nor staircase to be found. Could it have been the wall that was speaking to them? “Erm… Mister Wall,” he began. “Do you happen to have any ice?”
“Oh, dear, at least one of you seems to be delusional,” trilled the melodies voice. “I fear you’re talking to inanimate objects.”
Sirius writhed about the forest floor, clutching his forehead and moaning, as Remus struggled to regain his composure. “With all due respect, the question of whether or not one is quite inanimate hardly makes a difference in where I come from, Mister Wall,” he said.
“I’m neither a wall nor a mister,” laughed the voice. “And, though I am sure that my mother – the wretched witch who locked me in this hell hole in the first place – would approve greatly of your inability to recognize gender, I, on the other hand, am quite offended.”
“I heard that, young lady!” shouted someone from the interior of the tower. “It’s called ‘gender neutral language’ and you would do well to pick it up. It’s women like you with your blind allegiance to out-dated cultural images of gender who help encourage the Patriarchy.”
“Huh?” asked Remus.
“Shut-up, Mum,” whined the melodious voice.
“Moony, do you have a rag? My bleeding head is bleeding,” murmured Sirius.
A tiny fragment of sheer, rose-scented silk floated down from what Remus could only assume was the tower’s crown, and he looked up to see a petite girl with long, shimmering corn-silk hair waving to him from an upper window. He picked up the lace-edged handkerchief and attempted to gently dab the blood off of Sirius’ forehead. Unsurprisingly, the action did little more than smear the blood about and make his boyfriend flinch.
“And what, pray tell, is he supposed to do with that useless thing?” growled the muffled voice from the tower’s depths. “A young person requests medical attention and you provide him with a poorly-chosen accessory? What in heaven’s name were you thinking?” With a slight popping sound, a bowl of warm, soapy water, a clean, dry rag, and a small vial marked “Healing Potion” appeared, floating several inches above Sirius’ head. “There,” continued the voice, “that is what he needs.”
“Muuuuuuuuuumsy,” the long-haired teen complained through gritted teeth, “Leave me alone. I’m talking to a boy… and a handsome one at that!” She waved gaily at Sirius who smiled weakly in return.
Wishing himself invisible, Remus dipped the rag into the water and began cleaning his boyfriend’s wound. Thankfully, it wasn’t too deep and a few drops of the Healing Potion seemed to clear up the worst of the bruising. Sirius smiled blearily up at him whilst the invisible, overhead argument continued.
“And you think that you’ll get his attention by allowing him to bleed to death? What sort of idiot logic is that? It’s a common mistake for women to believe that helplessness is attractive, but I thought I’d raised you better than that, Rapunzel! This is almost as bad as that bloody trick with the tower.”
“Wait,” said Remus, nearly dropping Sirius’ head he’d been cradling. “What trick with what tower?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the in-tower voice apologized. “This is my daughter’s little joke. She makes the door invisible and then attempts to goad innocent passers-by into trying to rescue her by telling them some cock-and-bull story about how I locked her in there. Locked her up, indeed! She’s only imprisoned by her own gender perception!”
“Not all passers-by,” amended an indignant Rapunzel. “Only the handsome ones.”
“Why thank you, love,” began Sirius before Remus swatted him back into submission.
“And a fine job you did on this one,” laughed Rapunzel’s mother. “Bollocksed it up right well, you did, for clearly – handsome or not – these lads have not the slightest interest in the likes of you.”
“Excuse me?” squealed Rapunzel. “And just why not?”
Blushing furiously, Remus attempted to throw Sirius’ prone body over his shoulder and slink away into the forest. He’d had quite enough of this, thank you very much, and he knew full well that whatever was coming next, certainly would not be pleasant.
“Just look at them,” urged Rapunzel’s unseen mother. “Use your bloody brain for once!”
Rapunzel gazed blankly at the two cuddling wizards before emitting a slight squeak of terror. “Ew!” she cried. “They’re poufs! Gross!”
Remus blanched.
Sirius laughed.
Rapunzel blew her nose on the secondary hanky she pulled from the bodice of her tight-fitting pink dress.
“For gods’ sake, Rapunzel, what have I repeatedly told you about respecting the gender and sexual identities of others? And about not policing their sexuality?”
“Whatever, Mum,” huffed Rapunzel. “You’re old and just don’t understand what it’s like to be me.”
“I understand more than you realize, young lady. And I am certainly aware of the manner in which your words and behaviour harm all the marginalized members of society.“
“Puh-leeze,” scoffed Rapunzel. “All I want out of life is to marry a handsome prince, and what do I get? A load of feminist nonsense and couple of stupid poufs!”
“Homosexuals, Rapunzel, and, for that matter, we don't know how they identify. And, as I have said many times, a prince is merely a cis-gendered male who comes from a place of great privilege and whose wealth is derived from oppressing the working class, colonialist actions, and exerting dominance over indigenous peoples. Is that really what you want in a husband?”
Remus leaned down and whispered in his boyfriend’s ear. “Can you walk, Pads? Or, better yet, run? Let’s get the hell out of here! These people are all stark-raving mad.”
“They’re all stark-raving blonde, laughed Sirius. “And they’re brilliant.”
“You’re mad, too,” Remus said with a sigh. He pulled Sirius to his feet, brushing the abundance of dirt and twigs off his robes. “Now let’s go,” he hissed. “Before these two mad birds notice.”
“I quite like the mother actually,” began Sirius, “though I rather suspect that she’s blonde, too.”
“What’s wrong with blondes?” asked Remus, but the answer was lost in a fit of fleeing feet, panting breath, and the distant screech of arguing women.
On and on ran the pair, stray branches from too-close trees scratching at faces and tearing robes. At one point, Remus got a terrible stitch in his side, but Sirius quickly healed it with a wordless spell. “Just keep going, love,” he urged. “We have to find a way out of this horrid place.”
Then, just as the sun began to sink lower onto the horizon and the blue-grey gloom of the woods closed in around them, Remus tripped over a log. “Bloody buggering fuck,” he whimpered, as Sirius stopped to help him up.
“Yo,” croaked a voice. “Wha-a-a-a-t u-u-u-up?”
And Remus and Sirius looked up to see a large, green frog wearing a bright yellow fedora, a floor-length (or, rather lily-pad length) rabbit-fur coat, and the smallest pair of zebra-striped disco boots the wizards had ever seen.
“Yo,” said the frog.
“Nice shoes,” said Sirius, leaning down to inspect them closely. Yes, just as he suspected, teeny, tiny fish – nearly invisible to the naked eye - swam in the heels.
“Thanks,” said the frog. “I’m Theo, the Frog Pimp.”
“The Frog… Pimp?” murmured Remus under his breath. He wondered vaguely if Peter had been right all along. Sure, his mum had read him Muggle fairy tales about frog princes and such, but what if this was what she was really on about? Merlin knows that, over the years, most fairy tales had been cleaned-up and sanitized to become more suitable for the modern, childish ear. It was quite possible that “kissing the frog” meant something else entirely.
“Yup!” croaked the frog. “And those are my bitches.”
Remus and Sirius looked over to see a small pond full of overly made-up lady frogs, most of whom were wearing micro-minis and stilettos. One of them smiled seductively at Sirius and winked. “Oi! I get it now!” he exclaimed. “A pimp is a kind of…”
“…well-dressed amphibian business-owner,” finished Remus.
“Yeah, right,” laughed the Frog Pimp kicking up his feet.
“Erm…” began Sirius, “I fully realize how frightfully strange this might sound, but might we… erm… touch your shoes? Please?”
For a brief moment, the Frog Pimp looked perplexed. “Yo, man, I’ve heard of some strange-ass fetishes before, but this takes the cake.”
“Fetish?” sputtered Remus. “No… no… it’s really a…”
“Fetish!” confirmed Sirius, jamming and elbow into Remus’ ribs. “Just go along with this, Moony,” he whispered.
The frog extended his webbed and booted foot. “Shit!” he exclaimed, “I ought to charge you for this – nothing's free, yo – but this’ll make some fantastic-ass story to tell my friends. No one’ll believe it: a couple of crazed, disheveled homosexuals running around in the woods and asking to caress my footwear? Fan-freakin-tastic!”
“How did you know we were gay?” asked an indignant Remus.
“Oh, honey, it’s obvious,” said one of the female frogs. “Just look at yourselves.”
A retort rose to Remus’ throat, but he thought the better of it. It had been a long day and he’d had more than enough experience with ill-advised comments to last him a lifetime. So, instead, he merely smiled and fished a couple of Galleons out of Sirius’ pocket. “For your troubles,” he said to the Frog Pimp.
“Thanks!” said the frog, wiggling his foot in the air. “And go ahead.” He closed his bulbous eyes as if preparing for the worst.
“You ready, Moony?” whispered Sirius, taking his boyfriend’s hand. “I have no idea whether this will work or not, but we should at least give it a chance.”
And, with that our heroes reached out and placed a single finger each on the Frog Pimp’s shiny disco boot and shut their eyes tightly. Again the world lurched dangerously to the left and the two wizards felt the familiar tugs in their bellies. For a moment, Remus thought he might be physically ill, but when he opened his eyes he discovered that they were once again in the Gryffindor Common Room. A fire burned merrily in the grate, but other than that they were greeted with dead silence.
“Where the hell are Wormtail and Prongs?” asked Sirius after a moment’s recovery.
“Oh, they’ll be back shortly,” twittered voice from the rafters. Our heroes looked up to see their botanical nemesis, the mistletoe known as GT-507, laughing hysterically as it clutched its berries in mirth. “They had quite the adventure, too, I am sure, but they’re not stuck there forever.”
“You bloody arse! I’ll fucking kill you!” bellowed Sirius, drawing his wand. But Remus caught his hand and forced it down.
“Never mind, Pads. I fear we’ll just make it worse,” he cautioned.
GT-507 just snorted.
“Come on, Pads, let’s get some sleep. James and Peter will be back any moment and we’ll work out how to get home for Christmas in the morning.” He yawned deeply and took Sirius’ hand, slowly leading him up the steps of the tower. It had been a long and eventful day, full of annoying fictional characters and stupid, misguided remarks. Christmas Day was drawing near, and all he wanted to do was curl up next to Sirius and get some rest.
Sirius, for his part, was just as tired and perhaps even more anxious to get to bed. After all, sleep was only part of what he had in mind and it had been far too long since he’d given his Moony a good snogging. “Good night, stupid mistletoe,” he called over his shoulder. “And Happy Christmas!”
Hours later, long after our two heroes were lost in deep, cuddly slumber, a loud popping sound filled the Common Room.
“What in bloody hell was that all about?” grumbled James, picking himself up off the floor.
But Peter remained silent. In all honestly, it had been too long a day to discuss.
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Date: 2012-12-14 07:04 pm (UTC)I remember last year's story very well so didn't "need" to re-read, but will no doubt be doing so shortly.
Just love the fairy tales you used and how you have changed the characters to make them more modern and just a little bit naughty.
Glad that each of the boys had a woman throw themselves at them, not just Sirius as is so often the case.
It was hysterically-laugh-out-loud-funny which is just what I needed today and the boys were sweet and it was lovely to see them settled in their relationship.
Now I just have to nag you into writing the James/Peter adventure too. :-P
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Date: 2012-12-16 09:29 pm (UTC)Glad that each of the boys had a woman throw themselves at them, not just Sirius as is so often the case.
Thanks for noticing that; I'm so happy you did. I tend to think that Remus was just as cute and desirable as Sirius, but that tends to get overlooked.
Have a great Christmas!
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Date: 2012-12-20 07:53 pm (UTC)And yes, I agree, Remus was probably just as cute and wanted by women as Sirius. Just because we only see one girl eyeing up Sirius in canon doesn't mean there weren't others looking at Remus too.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you too.
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Date: 2012-12-15 01:45 am (UTC)Oh, my god, Theo the Frog Pimp. I laughed so hard I cried. And Rapunzel's feminist mother, bless her patriarchy-stomping heart.
And I'm going to find a way to work "cease immediately thy tussle!" into conversation at least once a day.
You never fail to bring the Christmas cheer.
Now excuse me, I have to go reread it immediately.
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Date: 2012-12-16 09:33 pm (UTC)Dare I admit that I've actually said many of the things that came out Rapunzel's mother's mouth? Sadly, it's kind of true. At any rate, I love fairy tales and their cultural meanings, so this was way fun to write!
Merry Christmas
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Date: 2012-12-15 04:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-16 09:33 pm (UTC)At any rate, I love fairy tales and their cultural meanings, so this was way fun to write!
Happy holidays!
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Date: 2012-12-17 10:41 am (UTC)Actually, just saw on your profile that you do sustainable agriculture! I'm into that too! Mind if I friend you to chat about it more?
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Date: 2012-12-17 08:23 pm (UTC)I live in New Mexico and, for at least another two weeks, I live at a former commune turned center for sustainable agriculture called New Buffalo (http://www.newbuffalocenter.com/Home.html). My husband and I ran the gardens and, in fact, started a small farmers market here in our little community of Arroyo Hondo. We got other small, local farms to participate and started a real tradition. It was pretty fantastic, really.
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Date: 2012-12-15 11:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-16 09:34 pm (UTC)Happy holidays!
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Date: 2012-12-16 02:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-16 09:39 pm (UTC)At any rate, I love fairy tales and their cultural meanings, so this was way fun to write!
And, in his own way, I think that Sirius was once quite cautious - at least when it came to interpersonal relationships. Maybe?
Merry Christmas!
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Date: 2012-12-16 10:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-16 09:34 pm (UTC)Happy holidays!
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Date: 2012-12-16 04:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-16 09:35 pm (UTC)Happy Holidays!
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Date: 2012-12-17 06:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-17 08:42 pm (UTC)My husband rather likes frogs, so there should be frogs in all aspects of my life. LOL.
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Date: 2012-12-21 07:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-22 06:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-03 07:27 pm (UTC)Oh my goodness! I'm so glad I decided to go back and read this. The fractured fairytales were fantastic, but Rapunzel and her mother really take the cake. I love your sense of humor.
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Date: 2014-01-03 07:58 pm (UTC)And, dare I admit it, some of the stuff that comes out of Rapunzel's mum's mouth has come out of mine many times.
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Date: 2014-01-05 08:20 am (UTC)So I've read that story, laughed my head off and went back to read the other two stories which is very bad because now I am unable to choose my favourite. As I've said before your humour is unsurpassable and the boys are absolutely wonderful.Oh, and the mistletoe, oh my god, I want one, it would fit right in with my grumpy attitude xD All of these fics are brilliant, I wanna read more now :D