it's prongs my deer fellow

enjoys long motorbike rides into the sunset, pursuits across the skies and hexing the bad guys; messr potter, lord of the forest and a king of mischievousness. AKA professional lilshit with a vigilante organisation membership and a bloody loyalty streak that'll stick with him till he's gray

[sanguinem-noir]

[If there was one thing that Diagon Alley was good for, at least, it was its selection of books. Having been shopping at Flourish and Blott’s since her school years, she had procured a vast amount of her reading material there. It was a decent enough shop; this time of year it was filled with wandering youths, scrambling for their school supplies, however. Much more interesting subject matter could be procured in the dark shops of Knockturn Alley, but she wouldn’t dare enter their confines unless under the cover of night. There was no need to stir idle gossip about her whereabouts; these days, there was enough of that talk as it was. She moved through the small clusters of youth with only a small expression of disdain. It soon passed, however, as she moved to a secluded aisle and began scanning over each shelf; a delicate hand outreached to run her index finger over the spines of each leather-bound tome.]

[Her ears perked as she heard the shuffle of footsteps intrude on her territory; she kept her eyes fixated on the shelf, sighing before she responded in a rather icy tone. ] 

"Can I help you? ”

[hornyprongs]

"No, no, I'm just browsing. Don't mind me." [ James replies with an autonomy that suggests it's a conditioned response and a hand wave to brush off further inquiry, before the tone with which the question is addressed has him glance toward's it's owner, and then perform a doubletake. The refined and glacial features which assail his gaze, remind him of the society section of the Prophet, though it's the eyes that give away her identity. That, and her physical similarities to a certain dog that he knows. Also possibly Order business, but let's just stick to that good old familial resemblance for now. ]

"My, Mrs Lestrange, are things not well at the manor? Having to make ends meet through part time work is ever so bourgeoisie, wouldn't you say?" [ It's not hard to deduce which sister she is - among the British pureblood community, it's rare to find people who have not heard of the three Black sisters, married by now and with new names to add to the tree - and the Lestrange name slips easily onto his tongue when faced with her formidable presence. ]

[marsthemckinnon-blog]

Oi!

S’not that big a deal. We’re only…borrowing. 

[hornyprongs]

You're lucky the shopkeeper's not that bright Marlene, you're being far too loud as it is. Where on earth is your stealth? Also, why're we 'borrowing' this particular item again, 'ey?

See, I would've thought your pocket money'd be enough to pay for it, wouldn't it? Or did you over-splurge on some fancy muggle drink again? What's the situation? Talk to me Mick. Why'd I catch you in the midst of nefarious criminal activity, and where can I find a camera with which to get solid proof of said activity so as to hold it over your head forevermore? Or to flash around in meetings, I honestly can't decide which I'd rather do.

[hornyprongs]

Top 20 things Sirius Black has done in your presence (I know, only 20 however will you manage to wiggle the list down so low), ~definitely not from Padfoot

Only twenty? And here I could fill a whole parchment scroll on that sort of thing… Ah, well, I’ll limit myself just for you, this sender who is definitely not Padfoot, not at all.

Comes when I call.

One time when we were walking down the stairs in third year, Sirius tripped and fell down a few flights. His gracefulness in doing so though, astounds me to this very day.

Sirius is the only person that I know who could call Mum “Mrs P.”, and get away with it. (She always did have a soft spot for him).

Been a masterful messr of mischief and an absolutely charming second to have had on hand, watching my back.

Got sorted into Gryffindor. Life as we know it would just not have been the same, if he’d gone and been put into somewhere else. 

Been shot down by Minnie copious amounts of times, and yet, he still persists. Even after graduating, not a day goes by that he doesn’t compose a haiku or two to serenade her with, should he get the chance. Such a devoted love. Warped, but devoted nonetheless.

Composed a haiku that really brought out the colour in Filch’s cheeks.

His very first firework attempt at school literally blew up in his face and singed off his eyebrows, providing me with a hell of a good laugh.

Stacked it on his broom during the flying lessons in first year and took two girls down with him in doing so. Ever the gentleman.

Pun exchanges.

Served detention with me even though he didn’t have to. Showed up to the detention place simply because he had nothing better to do, and the teacher in charge didn’t even bat an eye when he took a seat. 

Introduced me to the world of muggle pin-ups. Godric knows how I could’ve existed as a bloke, without the knowledge of them ever being bestowed upon me.

Bought a muggle motorcycle, thus establishing himself as perhaps, one of the coolest lads I’ll ever have the good fortune to know. Now the way to make himself the coolest of them, would be to let me have a go at it.

Dirty humor that disguises itself as classy and ambiguous.

This is probably more on the top twenty things Sirius wishes he hadn’t done in my presence, but the bad ‘joke’. He knows the one.

Leather jackets.

Source of cigarettes when Lily throws out my packs.

Muggle band knowledge and how to go to a muggle ‘live’.

His bitchy side flares out when he’s particularly grumpy.

Dog jokes.

bonus round: the jam code.

[pedalbear]

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[littleprince-black-blog]

[The prospect of acquiring a new broom was, at first, rather terrifying, to be honest. After having his old one for so long—since he first joined Slytherin’s team, in fact—it felt as if trading it in would turn into somewhat of a reckless decision once he was out on the pitch again. The wood of the handle would feel too unbroken, and surely, it would be noticeable during his first game that the broom had yet to be ridden. He feared it wouldn’t feel the same; which was why he intended to stick around for a little while; take his time in making the decision. Not doing so in other aspects of life hadn’t exactly benefited him thus far. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Not when it came to something he was so very passionate about to begin with.]

It’s quite alright. And honestly, they’re more of a nostalgic choice than anything else. They were the first game I ever attended. My brother took me. The memory is so sharp it feels like it happened just yesterday… Your first Quidditch game in the stands is one of those experiences you never seem to get over, yeah?

[The decision to turn and glance up from the broom is a thoughtless and last minute one, but the effect it has on the conversation is quite remarkable. His smile dims and fades; the light leaving his eyes as if it were a hastily snuffed out candle. Lips thin and teeth grit in a momentary bout of furious resentment. However, within half a second, the boy is flicking his gaze to the floor, his resemblance closer to a beaten puppy rather than a source of intimidation or the hatred one would receive from an enemy. That is what they should be, is it not? Enemies? Regulus should hate James Potter— despise him for every ounce of grief he has unknowingly caused the younger wizard. And yet… the only thing Regulus seems to be capable of feeling is guilt. His anger is directed at no one else apart from himself. With an awkward clearing of his throat, he takes a small step back and to the side; making sure he isn’t in anyone else’s way.]

… Thanks um   … Thanks for the suggestion though…

[hornyprongs]

[ Maybe it's the atmosphere of the store; the sense of neutrality to matters that do not directly correlate with quidditch pervades all else, and despite knowing who it is that stands before him, despite knowing that this boy lived with Sirius for the better part of fifteen years, and shares a bond of brotherhood in blood with Sirius that James shares in his very soul (he supposed 'platonic soulmates of a likeminded sort' was an apt title for their friendship though he was biased towards 'a dog and his master' himself), despite the fact that this boy is a Slytherin, for some odd reason James can't help but listen to him and hear that  nostalgia that that simple memory carries for this boy. Feels it tug at his own collection of stored away memories, those  that take place in his childhood. Without thought, a response flies to his lips, a memory that comes unwarranted and without prelude. ]

My first was with my dad - he got a day off work and we made a bit of a trip out of it. Nothing like that first goal being made, the crowd going wild, your voice just that little bit too hoarse from yelling with them to really etch a love for the team into your heart right? Sirius took you did he? Just like him to be like that, when he was younger. What on earth's happened since then? Never takes me anywhere. So rude of him.

[ James shakes his head with a disappointed tsk, though perhaps with a percievable sense of irresponsibility to his words. Who on earth brought up estranged siblings in polite conversation anyways? And in that manner?? Ah, yes, that would be James, James Potter that would. Mentally smacking himself, the bespectacled git worthy of an Order of Merlin in the matter of his stupidity looked back to Regulus, brow furrowing slightly at the contrast to Sirius that the younger sibling is. Looks and manners - they're similar, and yet, the air around them seems to alter them to the discerning gaze of the public. Sirius screams out an aura of 'pay me attention' whereas Regulus seems to hold others at bay. He clucked his tongue again, as he too shifted his position so that he wouldn't be in other customers' ways. No need to take up too much space in the shop.  Eyes widening slightly behind his glasses - civility on his part could and would be maintained, there was no real reason to quibble in this place was there? - James' gaze travelled down and took in the broom that was being clutched within Regulus' hands. The urge to whistle at the quality of the make, the burning desire to run his hands over that lacquered wood and fine craftmanship was proving strong enough to warrant the loss of any sense of control he had over his quidditch manic self, but he didn't think that the youngest Black brotherwould take kindly to him making a right berk of himself (and over a broom that was not his own, for that matter). He seemed too proper for that sort of action to get a similar response. Practice your manners James, the ghost of his mother's voice chides in his head.  Those lessons of propriety and manners that'd been taught as a matter of course by the formidable Dorea Potter forcing him to nod an acknowledgement of greeting to the other boy brought back yet another wave of odd nostalgia. Ah, he did rather miss his parents. ]

It's alright. No harm in making suggestions, yeah? Is that a new broom by any chance?  The latest model that just got released? The stats on that thing are off the charts compared to the earlier versions... Merlin I'd give an eye to give it a shot on a pitch. You gonna use it this year for Quidditch? Stupid question there, actually. What else could you possibly use it for, right? You don't look like the sort to mount it on a stand and put it on display. Or are you?

[tinyprinxe-deactivated20180211]

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[hornyprongs]

Do you spend a lot of time on your hair?

I spend about as much time on my hair as Sirius ever did studying History of Magic - what you see here atop my head, is the product of fine genetics and the inevitable loss of every comb I have ever known. Those poor little guys never stood a chance.  

But really, the person you should be asking this question to is Snape Sirius. Have you seen that mess he calls a 'do? True travesty to hair follicles everywhere. Really man, have you no shame?

[vivaciousevans-deactivated20141]

[She was too engrossed to notice James’ presence (an unusual occurrence) until he spoke. She jumped, her hand knocking against the cauldron that had given her such nostalgia] Why, James, that was almost a sneak attack! I didn’t know you had it in you to be quiet. [She teased him, eyes running across his face, down his lean body - having known each other for seven years, technically lived together for a large portion of those years, there was nothing of James that was unfamiliar to her, yet still, such delight and well, attraction (not that she liked to let him know it! But of course he did, James was infuriatingly perceptive when it came to that) in looking at him.] Hmmn, not quite what I meant - though now you say it, I’ve often wondered exactly that about Professor Slughorn. Dumbledore though - goodness, could you imagine him with anyone? [ Lily asked quite seriously, eyes wide -  imagining her teachers as people was something of a struggle for her, despite her old ambition to be one.]

[She winced and cursed herself for it, knowing James would pick up on it,] Either you’ve been talking to Remus, or you lot have once more shown your alarming proclivity to share each other’s thoughts. You’re perfectly right, though - and actually, I cancelled our subscription, I hope you don’t mind - really, I’m surprised the editor has the gall to give himself the title anymore, when it’s obvious he doesn’t edit so much as inflate his own pocket from bribes. It’s almost enough for me to want us to get up our own magazine, something subversive, something actually informative - of course we’re far too busy with the Order - I mean, there’s the entire magical community, at least the English, reading the Daily Prophet as our main source of information and they can barely give us one side of the story, let alone both. But no, they’re ignoring the war entirely. And it’s not that the other side’s ideals would be worth the paper they’d be printed on, mind you, but journalism is supposedly about fair play, some type of debate, an allowance given to their audience to form their own ideas. [ Lily paused to take a breath. There was a blush rising on her cheeks, not so much from her impassioned speech - surely James was used to those and didn’t mind - but how unconsciously the word ‘we’ had slipped into every sentence.] I just hate thinking there’s people reading this for comfort - and solidarity - and only getting more confused and afraid because something that’s real and frightening to them is being ignored by the people with the power to help them. [she finished off, more quietly, and lifted a hand to her mouth, so as to chew on a fingernail. A bad habit, that. Maybe once this bloody war was through she’d see about breaking it.] 

[She shook her head at him but the grin on her lips certainly left little doubt about just how badly she wanted to go - well, anywhere he was. And wouldn’t her, say, fifteen year old self be horrified to hear it? But that was a very different Lily Evans - albeit one who had found James Potter disgustingly compelling, much to her own disgruntlement and had often had to furiously force a smile away whenever he pulled one of his usual pranks. Now, she was free to smile as largely and wholly for his benefit as she liked. ] Oh, [she cooed at him, and winked, green eyes tinged brighter with happiness] Taking me to a tea shop? You are, as always, the epitome of romance, James Potter. And to think Petunia told me if I moved in with you, the l’amour would die. [And with that, she dumped all the books she was holding in his arms and marched on, stopping only to run her hands through his hair, as completely unmanageable as it always was, it was her girlfriend duty to at least try and make him look presentable, she told herself. Not at all because she liked the feel of dark and smooth James-Potter-locks.

[hornyprongs]

I've never tried, and I don't have any plans to do so. [ James said simply, with the look of a child who had just been told their parents had sex evident on his features. Merlin, why had he brought up the topic? Terrible, terrible idea James, he scolded himself. Who wanted to think about that sort of thing? Not you, that's for sure. And Lily probably knew it, given the look she'd given him. The urge to refrain from poking out his tongue in (childish) retaliation would not subside, and instead, he pulled a face at his ever so charming girlfriend. ]

Really now Lily, it should be common knowledge that the four of us share the collective thoughts of one another.Bit of a hivemind developed, result from sharing a dorm with the lot of them. Enclosed spaces and the like.  

[ He listened to her speech with a smile, though he did glance to the sides of them to assess the likelihood of them being overheard in the shop. He was pretty sure that Lily wouldn't go into too extravagant details (she wasn't the sort to just blab about things that were supposed to be secret anyways), and it didn't seem as though the other occupants would pay them any mind (they were two lovebirds having a bit of a flirty debate, that was all), but all the same... He shook his head. Best not to have those kinds of thoughts. Would hate to jinx them before they even got a chance to get out of the shop! Instead, he lowered his face and his voice, leaning a little bit closer to the redhead as he spoke. ]

As much as it might be nice to think that everybody in the wizarding community's the sort who can read beyond the words printed, like you love, unfortunately the majority of them are the sort that'll take what they're given for face value. Nothing we can really do about that, I'm afraid.

Let it all out Lily, throw it to the wind but do pay some mind to who's about. As our ever so charming mentor would say, we must practice "constant vigilance!" Never know who's ears might be pressed to the ground. The paper themselves might be listening, and who knows who might read whatever it is that they;d manage to spit out. Or what they'd do about it.

[ He cut himself off, brow creased with the worries that an eighteen year old should not have. The worst case scenario was something he did not want to imagine, and yet, it persisted in his mind. The horrific minefield that was his imagination did little to throw out his fears (influenced them more, if anything). ]  Never mind that though. Now, where were- [ He was shaken out of his brief interlude into his own head by the sudden shift in his balance, the astoundingly heavy weight in his arms. Damn it, she'd taken him up on the offer, James thought as he hefted the mound of weight training she'd been carrying. Well, he supposed it was the boyfriend's duty to be the pack mule - his dad'd always carried the packages when they went in to shop as a family, so maybe it carried on throughout life. Maybe that was the primary function of the guy in a relationship. Was this what his mother's training had been preparing him for? What a terrifying thought, he mused. Smoothly, James bobbed himself in a parody of a bow, though the stack seemed like to tip if he actually attempted it. ]

Why Miss Evans, I'm ever so heartbroken - and here I thought your sister might actually like me somewhat. Does she have no trust in my sense of romance? How terrible the burden is, to prove her ever so wrong, is it not? However will I cope with this ever so obvious challenge of my ability as a man to woo my beloved?

[ Okay, he would admit that that was absolutely terrible. But, he'd said it all the same hadn't he - and at the very least she would get a good laugh out of the absurdity of it all. Burdened by the packages though, he could do nothing but whinge while her delicate hands moved so dexterously through his hair, tugging and pulling this way and that. Damn, that cheek of hers, he thought with a shit-eating grin as she moved away, shaking his head. Once upon a time, that would've been an unthinkable movement on Lily's part, and now, it seemed almost as natural to them as breathing. Well, maybe that was a little exaggerated. Okay maybe a lot exaggerated. Shifting his grip on the books, he followed the redhead out of the shop, gaze bouncing around the shopfronts for somewhere to have a pot. Where were the nice cafes in the area? Should they go muggle or magical? He only had wizarding coins on him though - he'd never really gotten used to the idea of pounds and Penelopes and the odd system that muggles had. And he'd been the one to suggest it - wouldn't do to have the girl pay for it all. ]

Did you have anywhere in mind for a spot of tea to be had, with your ever so loving boyfriend? Or should we go for a lick of something stronger? My treat, your choice yeah? What'll it be, Miss Evans?

[vivaciousevans-deactivated20141]

[ Lily’s movements are quick and purposeful, wanting to get out of Diagon Alley before dark. Her arms are filled with a stack of textbooks, all piled atop each other, as best as she can balance them - textbooks with the faces of prominent healers stamped on them, all rather unhappy to be carried around in such an undignified manner. She takes no notice of their glowering. The smells of the Apothecary drift towards her, an odd stench made up of anything from lacewings to flobberworm mucus, from bat spleens to lavender sprigs. In no way is it an appealing scent but to Lily, it is enough to make her stop and look longingly at the entrance. It isn’t fair or right of her to be later than she said she would be, not now, when a few extra minutes unchecked could mean anything and she knows herself the agony of waiting, but she enters the store with a guilty half-smile. One of the reasons she loves Healer work so well is the amount of Potions it involves, but for most of her Hogwarts career, her dearest ambition was to teach the subject. Yet things change, as Lily well knows - just as she knew she belonged on the forefront of the fighting and healing was better suited for that then teaching.] Not that it matters [ she tells herself lightly, fingers brushing over a sturdy looking cauldron, imagining the young faces that must have rushed excitedly in here, just as she did, years and years past, to see how magic, real magic could be created by her own hands ] The chances of Professor Slughorn moving an inch from Dumbledore’s side… [ she trails off, chuckling at the thought of Slughorn ever giving up his safe, comfortable post - she might have been one of his favourites but not even Lily could entice him to do that] 

[hornyprongs]

[ His hands in his trouser pockets, hair mussed and a pout that would make his mates cack themselves with laughter, James trotted down the path of shops in Diagon, craning his neck this way and that in an effort to catch sight of striking red amidst the sea of boring that other people grew atop their heads. He hadn't exactly told her that he'd be coming to pick her up - actually, there had never been any plan to do so. But he'd had no urgent Order business to attend to, and the idea of Lily going back alone at this time of the day seemed likely to spell trouble, hadn't it? Plus, he could help her carry her packages couldn't he? Wasn't that what a boyfriend was supposed to do? ]

Merlin's bloody ball-sack, she could've made it a little easier on me to find her- ah!

[ Abruptly cutting himself off as he noticed a familiarly hued head disappear into a shop (the Apothecary, he noted with a fond shake of his head, where else?), he walked briskly through the dwindling people on the street to enter it himself. It took no more then a few moments to scan the interior (the smell of the shop might've made a lesser man flee, but James was on a mission and no rancid slugs or rotting newts could keep him from fulfilling it!), and even less to move behind her, mischief clear on his face. He peered past his glasses at whatever it was that she was admiring, though his brow crinkled a little with confusion. What was so special about a cauldron? Aside from holding potions contents in an easy to use manner, there really shouldn't be any reason for a person to linger in front. Then again, Lily'd always been a bit of a Potions nutter, hadn't she? Right and utterly baffled he was, by how someone like Lily could have such a profound interest in a subject that leaned towards the messy and grotesque. He supposed that was yet another thing to love about her though. ]

Is that the Daily Prophet's latest scoop? Slughorn and Dumbledore's relationship behind closed doors? Oh, to think of the scandal it'd cause! Though it'd have about the same merit of newsworthy content as the other articles it's been printing lately. Only decent thing in there's the crossword  right now - the only way it's capable of bringing me to tears is if the answer's spelled wrong and the words don't line up. Horrendous that is, simply horrendous.

Well, now that I've caught up with you, shall I accompany 'milady'? Carry your parcels, fetch you some tea? Safety in numbers after all - never know what might occur while sipping from a china cup. 

[littleprince-black-blog]

[Admittedly, much of his summer season has been spent on a broom; training in effort to make Slytherin team captain this upcoming season, while simultaneously avoiding the inside of 12 Grimmauld Place as much as he possibly can. It seems the only topic of conversation his parents wish to discuss these days is one that he would rather refuse to think about altogether, much less remember in vivid detail. To his credit, he’d waited a few years longer than necessary to end up here; basking in the ambiance of freshly polished wood, new bristles, and unbroken leather padding. The weight of the new Nimbus broom in his hands is comfortable and one he will feel for the rest of the day even after it is stuffed in the safe confines of his closet beside the broken pieces of his old one. He admires it greatly, analyzing every detail and storing it to memory as he mumbles softly to himself.] Who knows? Maybe you’ll help me reach the Caerphilly Catapults one day… [As if he could do anything other than what has become of him.]

[hornyprongs]

[ Now, if ever there was a time when James could pass willingly by Quality Quidditch without taking a ritualistic pilgrimage through it's door and to worship the products, he would like the proof of it hand-delivered and with no less then five eye witnesses to back up the account.

So, of course, on this fine, auspiciously warm summer's day in Diagon Alley, where else would James' feet take him down those winding cobbled paths, but to that purveyor of fine mounts and leather goods (absolutely nothing sexually implicit about that statement huh)?

The new display in the window was empty; somebody with more money then sense had probably bought it for a laugh, thought James with a slightly judging sigh. The poor broom would probably never see the light of day, or be broken from incorrect handling or -  Merlin he couldn't bear to think about it. Trying desperately to think happy thoughts, thoughts of brooms being owned by loving, caring owners, and stepping further and further into the shop and towards the general broomcare supplies (he supposed his poor, battered, House-cup-winning broom could do with a little extra love and care), James walked past a customer, catching the end trails of the kid's sentence. Caerphilly Catapults, huh? he mused silently. ]

Well, if you're gonna aim for the professional leagues, you may as well set the bar low. Though, there's nothing stopping you from trying for bigger and better, if you've got the balls to give it a shot. 

[ Wait. Was that out loud? Ah, blast it all, to Salazar's balls and back. That'd sounded a bit rude. He hadn't meant to be rude - hell, once upon a time he'd have liked to be a Chaser in the pros too - course, reality was a bit of a harsh mistress now, and that dream was no more then a dream nowadays. ] 

Ah - sorry mate. Didn't mean to eavesdrop - couldn't help but hear.  

[ He turns to face the kid, the apology waiting to be issued on his tongue, and stops instead to stare for a moment at the face of his best friend's brother. Ah bugger it all, it'd been such a nice day too. ]

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