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How The Sofa Ate The Sod-Head and Other Various Marauder Mishaps by sirius_jamie

Format: Short story collection
Chapters: 3
Word Count: 3,710
Status: WIP

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Mild violence

Genres: Fluff, General, Humor
Characters: Lupin, James, Lily, Sirius, Pettigrew
Pairings: James/Lily, Remus/OC, Sirius/OC

First Published: 03/25/2006
Last Chapter: 01/25/2017
Last Updated: 01/25/2017

[banner by Abyssica at tda]

"Great Scott, say it isn’t so!  I'm going to die!  I'm going to die a death by dragonskin, finely-crafted, fruitwood framed furniture! Oh, dear mother of god, it's starting!  I can feel it's equisite handstitched fabric and plush overstuffed back pillow creeping up over me! Oh no, it's ultimate relaxation!"

Chapter 1: How The Sofa Ate The Sod-Head
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"How the Sofa Ate the Sod-Head"as told by Miss Lily Evans


There is a sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room that likes to eat people.

I swear to Merlin it's true.

Whenever someone leaves a random object lying on it, say a book, a quill, or a boyfriend, the sofa will gobble it (or them) up.

It’s funny to watch, if you’re ever lucky enough to be there at the right time.

Now, you may be asking yourself, “Why is there a sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room that likes to eat people?”

Well, I’ll tell you why: Slytherins.

Yes, that’s right.


Also known as: Idiots, dolts, jerks, gits, dingle-berries, tweaks, yanks, dobbers, dopes, ninnies, dweebs, imbeciles, and so on.

Apparently, unbeknownst to the Gryffindors, some of the nasty buggers got a hold on our password and, in the dead of night, crept up to our Common Room, and then proceeded to place this horrifying spell on the most comfortable sofa out of the whole lot.

We have yet to figure out the counter-curse.

...Needless to say, we feel incredibly stupid.

As for how they got the password and directions to our abode, from what I have deduced, a couple of them had cornered little Peter Pettigrew and forced it out of him. 

I believe that it was the work of a couple nameless Marauder-rivals, though I am not sure who, nor am I inclined to ask.

I would, after all, like to avoid an endless rave about how Mister James Potter and Mister Sirius Black have since gotten their revenge. 

Most unfortunately, I have caught some snippets of conversation and deduced that it involved some Muggle gags called “Silly String”, “Super Glue”, and “Cotton Candy”.

The bloody goobers.

Anywho, have you ever wondered what happens when a marauder forgets that he is sitting on a man-eating sofa?

Well, wonder no more, my friends, because this is the story of how the sofa ate the sod-head, as told by I, Miss Lily Evans.


Oh no.

He's doing it again.

...He's sitting on that stupid sofa.

How many sodding times do I have to tell him to STAY. AWAY. FROM. IT?!

Bloody hell, you'd think he'd learn after the first five times...

Well, looks like I get to be the lucky girl to go over and help him.

He's such a git.


She walked over to the big, red, velvet sofa that was set in the middle of the room.

He was sitting there, cross-legged, with a piece of parchment spread out over a big, thick book that was set in his lap.

He was scribbling a snitch in the middle of the paper, with the words “James Isaac Potter: The World’s Best Seeker…Ever.” sprawled underneath it.

Heaving a deep sigh, she placed her hands on her hips and said, in an impatient tone, "Um, James?"

He looked up from his doodle and said, as though he had never seen her before, "Oh! Why hello there, pretty lady! How may I be of service...?"

Rolling her eyes, she snorted, "Potter - don't you remember what I told you about that sofa?"

He sat there for a moment, scratching his chin and looking genuinely perplexed before replying, "Hmmm... let me see... I remember you telling me that I'm a dumb git who will never be able to win your heart, I remember you telling me that I'm an egotistical dolt who can barely walk through a doorframe without his over-inflated noggin getting in the way, and...”, he paused for a moment, as though he was searching for a particular memory before finishing, “Oh yeah! I also remember you telling me that I'm smelly. But no, I do not recall you telling me anything about a sofa."

Looking at him hopelessly, she cried out, making him jump, "Oh for Merlin’s sake, James! I told you not to sit on that sofa,” she paused, as she thrust her finger at the sofa where he sat, “because it eats things!"

Looking very taken aback and shocked by her statement, he shouted, “Great Scott! Say it isn’t so!”

Then while putting his hand on his forehead to pose as a damsel in distress, he wailed, "Oh Noooo! I'm going to die! I'm going to die a death by dragon-skin, finely crafted, fruitwood-framed furniture!"

She was rather annoyed with his theatrics.

"You know what, James, I should just stop trying to help you out if this is what I g----"

But he cut across her, wailing ever louder.

"Oh, dear mother of god, it's starting! I can feel it's equisite hand-stitched fabric and plush over-stuffed back pillow creeping up over me! Oh noooo, it's ultimate relaxation!"

"..." She did not appreciate being mocked. 

"Please, Dear Merlin, NOOOOO!" He finished with a dramatic close, successfully attracting the attention from every other student who happened to be in the room, as he broke down in fake sobs and tears.

Growling with frustration, she said, “FINE! Be that way, Potter! But don't come crying to me when half of your arse is missing because the sofa has sawed it off!" 

She then whipped herself around in a flash, with her bright red hair flying around her face as she did so.

Though temporarily stunned by her magnificent talent to remain beautiful when she’s so obviously disgusted with him, James had still managed to keep his cool… somewhat.

Straightening himself up, he mumbled, "Pfft... As if a sofa would ever DARE try to eat the mighty James Isaac Potter, the world's best and most finest-looking seeker ever."

And then, just as he was about to return to his partially-finished, badly-drawn sketch, it happened.

"Wha-----Ahhh! Noooo!"

Lily, turning back around swiftly in her chair, couldn’t help but smile as she mumbled to herself, "Ha... that'll teach him not to listen to me..."

Greatly satisfied, she returned to her charms essay, listening happily as James continued to thrash and cry, despite the fruitless fumblings of Sirius and Remus to rescue him, as he sank deeper and deeper into the depths of the sofa.


Chapter 2: Why No Marauder Shall Ever Violate Moony's Stash Ever Again
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"Why No Marauder Shall Ever Violate Moony's Stash Ever Again", as told by Mister James Potter 


Remus was upset. 

…Very, very upset. 

So upset, in fact, I swear to Merlin he was on the verge of tears. 

Angry tears, mind you. 

“I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You.” 

He said it softly, but Mister Sirius Black – my most beloved friend in the entire world – knows danger when he hears it. 

It’s a skill one can only acquire when one grows up in a home managed by a crazy bat-of-a-woman named Walburga

Yes… his mother is that scary. Indeed. 

Anywho. Where was I? 

Oh – right, yes – I was in the middle of telling a most impressive and moving story… in my super suave and devastatingly sexy storytelling voice. 

Mmm. Right. 

Padfoot versus Moony. 

…It was epic. 


Two young boys – one with sandy blonde hair, the other one with shaggy black – seemed to be having a bit of a… tiff

The blonde had the other boy fully backed up against a wall, with a wand pointing straight at his face. 

And, oh, what a pretty face it was! Or, rather, would have been, had it not been completely filled with dread, laced with sweat, and scrunched up from tension. 

Yes, that black-haired boy was having a very rotten time, indeed. 

The blonde was threatening him… and he knew – oh, he knew – that this boy rarely said things that he did not mean. 

“I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You.” 

It was spoken softly, but it was ever so dangerous. 

It sounded to the black-haired boy as though it could have been his mother speaking to him. 

…And it did not make him very confident. 

“I, uh, I, didn’t, uh, know, um, that it was yours, Moony, I swear, uh…” 

His stammering became so intense, that the poor boy couldn’t spit out the rest of his excuse. 

“That. Was. My. Last. Piece. Of. Chocolate.” Remus informed him. 

The boy hadn’t, in fact, known that. 

He just wanted a nice bit of chocolately-goodness. 

Dorcas Meadowes, after all, had just called him a “stupid-sodding-num-knut” in front of the entire Gryffindor Common Room! 

All because he kissed her! 

So what if she was caught off-guard? Or that she was with her boyfriend at the time?  …On a date?


“Sirius, mate, stop moping-about, you’re giving me bad karma, and Lily will end up punching me or something…” 

James, a messy-haired, bespeckled boy, was trying to comfort his pouty friend. 

Sirius was sitting at a small round table in his dormitory, having just retreated from the Common Room after The Scene

He had been smashing very angry and very upset Wizarding Chess figurines – who, for the record, are a very crude breed of magical sculpture when provoked. 

Jeez, cut it out!” James shouted suddenly, quite peeved at his friend, who had just single-handedly ruined both his karma and his best chess set in less than two minutes.

After beheading a truant-ish knight, who had just attempted to scurry up his leg and “de-man him”, Sirius stood up and looked at his friend with a stony face. 

Letting out a puff of air, he then turned away and climbed over the chess-figurine-debris into the bed, completely covering himself in a mountain of blankets.

“Oi! Don’t get all depressed, Pads!  She’s just a girl, who cares?”

Just a girl?” came Sirius’ voice, muffled from underneath the comforters.

Uncovering his face slightly, so that only his mouth and chin were visible, he scoffed, “Yeah, nicely put, from a kid who is so obsessed with one, that he goes so far as to ask her to sign a contract, guaranteeing at least one kiss, before he agrees to give her back her freaking potions essay, which he so un-chivalrously stole from her!”

Smiling dolefully, James walked over to the bump-in-the-bed and swatted it a few times.

“Sweet mother of Merlin, Pads!  At least I’m not the one crying over a lame insult like, what was it again?  Soggy nut, or something…?”

“Stupid-sodding-num-knut, actually…” came Sirius’ dejected reply.

After a decidedly angry silence, James suggested airily, “Sirius, Padfoot, mate, buddy, pal… I think you need a bit of morselly-goodness – it’ll get you happy.”

 “Mmph…?” went the blankets.

 After deciding that was an inquisitive grunt, James elaborated.

“Yeah. More specifically, you need some chocolately-morselly-goodness… Why not hit up Moony’s stash...?”

Remus, best friend and roommate to both the boys, was quite the chocolate lover.  He was so devoted, in fact, that he actually had an extensive stash "hidden" inside one of the drawers of a large cabinet located next to his bed.

As an unspoken agreement, the other boys never mentioned it, for Remus had the tendency to be very... irate when that cabinet was touched.

He actually went so far as to threaten little Peter Pettigrew, the fourth boy living in the dorm, with death, lest he ever set finger on it again, after he was caught looking for a quill in one of the drawers.

...Mister Lupin was a very viligant entity, whence it came to protecting his chocolate.

And so, it was not the brightest idea in the world for Sirius to do as he did, and  actually listen to Mister James Potter.

Wiggling from underneath his enclave, he appeared, bright-eyed, pretty-faced, and grinning from ear to ear, nodding excitedly to his pal. 

“Good idea, mate! Oh, oh, ohhh, chocolaaaaate!” he yelped, climbing from the bed, and rummaging through a cabinet standing across the room. 

“I’s wants some!” he groaned, pulling open the drawers in such a hurry that he left most of them hanging from their tracks. 

“Oi, Pads, turn it down a notch, you know how touchy he is about his stash…” James warned, shifting about uncomfortably, feeling as though someone, somewhere, knew they were being naughty. 

He suddenly began to feel a bit... apprehensive.  Perhaps, he thought, he shouldn't have suggested such a dangerous crime.

...Moony might find out, afterall...  And James severely doubted that he would be very happy about it.

But a loud bark of mirth from Sirius snapped James out of his reverie, and his regretful thoughts were lost, as he watched his friend dance happily around the room, loot in hand.


Sirius held, in his firm-long-fingered-grip, none other than a piece of one of the most exquisite pieces of chocolate known to Wizarding kind. 

It was a piece of Sully Samuels’ Sugary Sweet Happy Bar. 

And oh my, was he happy

To the weird and slightly frightened amusement of his friend, Sirius commenced in eating/caressing the chocolate bar, all the while with a silly, sloppy smile on his face. 

“You, my friend, are a strange, strange individual…” said James, removing his glasses, and putting a sincere hand over his heart. 

Sirius just gave him a muffled, “Mmmmmmmmmmpffmph,” before returning to his chocolate. 

Getting bored, and still feeling a bit tense and… watched... James announced he was going back to the Common Room. 

“I dunno, Mate… I think your odd sensual desire for that bit of chocolate is giving me weird vibes…I’m going to go bug Evans…” 

With that, James left, leaving a blissful Sirius alone, standing by the off-limits, torn-apart cabinet.

…And that is when it happened. 

Remus entered the room. 



He knew…  Oh, he knew that someone was violating his stash. 

And, he was mad

So, so mad. 



James was rubbing the now sore and slightly reddened spot on his nose, when he heard it – the yell coming down from the Boys’ Dorms. 

Leaving the furious Lily Evans behind him, he raced back up to the dorm, only to find a complacent-looking Remus Lupin puttering around over by the cabinet. 

“Whaaaa – What happened?? Where’s Sirius…?” James spluttered, panting and turning around and around in circles, looking for his dark-haired friend. 

Remus simply pointed to a drawer in the cabinet that he had just closed. 

James stepped forward, walking pointedly around a stoic-looking Lupin, who was now sitting on his bed. 

Pulling the drawer open slowly, James peered down inside. 

With a sharp intake of breath, he whispered, “–Oh Moony, you are so sick.” 

And then, James broke down in a furious fit of giggles, as Sirius the Kitty crept out from the drawer in the cabinet, with the most pouty little face any kitten could have managed. 



Chapter 3: Supper du le Marauder Style
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"Supper du le Marauder Style"as told by Mister Remus John Lupin



My name is Remus John Lupin, and I am never going to attend dinner in the Great Hall again accompanied by Sirius Black and James Potter.


Really, I mean it.


It always ends in annihilation, unhappy girls, and scowling professors.


Today was worse than normal.


It was so awful that I nearly drowned myself in Wormtail’s goblet of pumpkin juice.


You see, James was picking on Sirius, and I swear to Merlin, nothing – and I mean nothing – is more bloody annoying than trying to eat your baked ham whilst being subjected to the high-pitched wail that is James Potter’s “picking-on-people-voice”. 


It’s a trillion times worse when there’s a scowling Sirius Black sitting next to him, stabbing everything within arm’s reach with a knife.


I mean, honestly, have they no decency?!


…No, no they do not.  If they did, they would have just shut the heck up and let me finish my dinner!


But, alas, no.  I have obviously angered the almighty and completely sadistic deity of above, and am therefore now living in a fiery castle of purgatory, where obnoxious Gryffindor boys happen to be my closest of friends.





It was dinner time, and the Gryffindor table was positively shaking with delight as a plethora of delicious delectables suddenly appeared before their fervent eyes and empty plates.


Hands and elbows were flailing all along the table, as the boys and girls fought their way through the field of platters to find their favorite foods.


Oooohhhh dear Merlin, I’m so hungryyy—” groaned an attractive black-haired boy – Sirius – as his fingers flew to the bowl closest to him.


His eyes were wide and bright, skirting around every which way, completely failing to focus on any one thing in particular. 


“—Ooo, gimme some of that—” growled James, the messy-haired boy sitting next to him. 


Reaching across the table, he tried grabbing a bowl of mashed potatoes from a sandy-blonde-haired boy, who had just spooned a large mountain of it onto his own plate.


“—James, watch it, will you—?!” the blonde cried, after almost getting stabbed by his friend’s rouge fork when he reached across the table.


“—Sorry Remy, mate, but I need those potatoes, now—”


“Oh whatever, just please be more careful when you’re rea—”


“MEAT PIE!” cried Sirius suddenly, pointing down the row of seats towards the end of the table, before shooting up and positively cantering down the row.


OI! that’s mine, Black, get the hell away—” a young brunette yelped, as the meat pie in question was forcefully pried from her hands.


“Sorry Dorcas, love, but I need it—“ he replied passionately, before running back to his seat and plopping most of it on his plate.


“You lot are utter cows.” Remus plainly stated, looking appalled at James and Sirius, who were apparently engaged in a let’s-see-who-can-eat-everything-on-their-plate-the-fastest contest.


“Utter cows, mate?” James asked, while bits of bacon and cheddar soup dribbled down his chin.  “Or cows’ utter?”


“Hm, I think I’d rather be the utter…” Sirius piped in, smirking, and spurting a bit of mashed potatoes out through his lips in the process.


But ever so elegantly.


Remus glowered at them.  “’Course Pads would want to be the utter, though I can’t imagine why, seeing as how he’s seen more nippl—“  James started, before shutting right the heck up as Sirius threw half a wad of corn bread in his face.


A static-y silence ensued, full of nothing but gurgles, burps, chomping, swallowing, and the grinding of Remus’ teeth, as he tried to ignore the inhuman noises that his mates were making.


 “Hey Padfoot, you know what I was thinking about earlier today?” James asked suddenly, twirling his sauce-covered fork between his fingers.


… Remus looked absolutely reprehensible as he watched drops of moisture being flung onto his dinner plate by James’ cutlery.


“—is that a string of spittle you just flung on my sodding plate, James???!—”


“Wat wurr you finkinguh aboot, Jamfie?” slurred a full-mouthed Sirius, as James totally ignored Remus’ aghast inquiries as to what the exact nature of the deviant droplets of splutter were.


“You’re name is Sirius Orion Black.” James said, as if he were making a completely world-rending new discovery.


“…Yes, yes it is, Jamesie,” Sirius replied, now empty-mouthed and weirded out by his friend’s apparent lack of cognitive proccess. 


“Well, that means your initials are S.O.B.” James said, “And you know what ess-oh-bee means, right?” 


Sirius simply stared back blankly.


Ess-oh-bee means that you’re a son-of-a-bi—”


“I know what it means, stupid!” he replied suddenly, turning back to his plate, praying to Merlin that James was not about to go on what he feared to be another one of his ‘new material tirades’. 


 “You are a son-of-a-bi—”


“We all know that, James” snapped Remus, still very much put-off, and not in the mood to hear James continue.


James, however, was very much delighted with the new material, and he continued calling Sirius an ess-oh-bee in a high-pitched singsong voice for the next three minutes.


“And you know what eeeeelse…?” he asked, positively shining with jovial excitement, as he stared at a semi-pouty Sirius who now had a recklessly tight grip on his fork.


What?” Sirius growled through clenched teeth.


“It’s the freaking truth—!”


James was really enjoying himself.


“NO CRAP.”  Sirius just did not see the humor there.  “It’s called a pun, James.”


James, smirking at his friend, began to silently count on his fingers.


“What the hell are you doing, James?” sighed Sirius, who was still wondering about the cognitive dysfunction he feared his friend may have spontaneously developed.


“Oh, who, me?” James asked, trying but failing to hide his smirk.


“Yes, you James.” Sirius sighed again.


“Oh, nothing, just counting up all the puns you seem to have inherited over the years…”

Sirius did not like where this was going.


Neither, for that matter, did Remus, who really just wanted nothing more than to finish his supper in peace.  He’d even settle for relatively muffled background noise.


“Don’t, James, please, I’m begging you—”


But, as everyone knows, nothing will stop a Marauder whilst he’s testing out new comedic substance. 


Especially if it’s aimed at another Marauder.


“God, Moony, I’m not even doing anything, it’s Sirius’ fault, yell at him, he’s such a dog—”


“James, cut it out—”


“No, really Moony, he’s such a bad boy—”




“—he’s absolutely canine—”


Remus gave up.  He set his spoon down and started to rub his temples.


Speaking of temporal lobes, Sirius’ looked like his was about to explode.


His face was flushed and stony. He was staring straight ahead, avoiding James’ goading stare.


“—he’s so canine-like, I bet he even likes to do it doggy-style—”


Sirius took a sip of his pumpkin juice.


“—He even growls like a dog, it’s ridiculous, I heard him with this girl the other day, and he was actually flipping growling, I’m serious—”


Some of the pumpkin juice sloshed over the sides of the goblet.  His hands were shaking too much.


“—oh, and speaking of being serious, I’ll tell you what, Sirius himself is much too serious, if you ask me, seriously—”


…And then, Sirius seriously snapped


“Well, you got what you deserved, Prongsie.”


It was three hours later, and James and Peter were hanging out in the Gryffindor Common Room.


“Shut up, Wormtail.”


Remus had shut himself up in the library, shouting something about inhuman sounds.

Sirius had shut himself up in the dorm, shouting something about his stupid sodding mother.


Lily had shut herself up in the girl’s dorms, shouting something about people shouting things.


James wasn’t very happy.  He had only recently been released from the Hospital Wing.


Madam Pompfrey wasn’t very happy, either.  

It was awkward for her, you know, removing the pair of stag antlers that were protruding from the back of his pants, and all.