theshabbiestofmen | IC Contact;

Your best mate who is sixteen, and if anyone overheard this they'd shake their heads at you and cluck their tongues and generally give you all sorts of looks of deep shame.

For shame, Moony.

If they knew who I was talking to, they'd completely understand. You can't call me Moony and then get upset when I beat you in idiotic competitions. Not on, Pads.

[A beat, and then he heaves a sigh.]

Aren't people meant to grow stupider in old age?

You might, perhaps. I certainly never planned on it.

Senility, I mean. Or else--

Oh, just shut up, Moony.

That's what I thought. There, now you have something quite grave to whine about.

Yes, and I'll do it at everyone but you, 'cos you haven't a heart.

And you a brain. What a set we make.

I have loads of brains, loads, great squashy gobs--that how I get high marks. That and copying off of you. Is this the bit where we, er, where we skip off to see wizards?

I don't see much point, considering we're looking at one another. Can you at least pretend you didn't cheat off me?

But that would be lying. And aren't I meant not to lie?

There's lying and then there's being kind.

Who exactly am I meant to be kind to right now, you?

Why not me? I don't want it known I let you copy. It'd ruin my entire reputation as a strict professor.

Edited 2012-06-14 15:31 (UTC)

You have a reputation for strictness.

Absolutely.

Moony. Do you perhaps recall fifth year, when you were made a prefect, and you had a sit down with us and more or less cracked down on us and told us you were going to be strict and we weren't allowed to copy from you any longer.

That was entirely different, and anyway I held out for quite a while with that.

[A week is a while, right?]

Oh, yeah, you were a bastion of strength. [A beat.] And then you gave us your essay and asked us to cheat off of it.

I mean, mostly so those pesky little invisible gnomes would stop hiding your things, but you still gave it over.