Blueberry Pie
WEDNESDAY. OCTOBER 13, 1971.
Over that past week or so James has come to discover something quite interesting: he has terribly fussy roommates. Peter isn’t the problem. He never is. James is certain that if it were just him and Peter, the whole costume debacle would have been settled ages ago. But Remus and Sirius are much harder to please. James has taken to blurting out random ideas in the moment they come to him, conversation be damned. None of them have appeased everyone. But that’s alright. James has never been one to back away from a challenge.
So far, he’s suggested Robots vetoed by Remus, Lions vetoed by Sirius, and Paddington. That one had garnered some interest, but it came up pretty quickly that they couldn’t all be Paddington Bear and the idea was quickly put to rest.
James is sure they could have made it work, but they were all quite stubborn.
“Pay attention.” Remus smacks James’ hand away from the potted plant in front of them just in time. The spiky bush spits out a thorn, narrowly missing their palms.
“Thanks.” James says.
Remus huffs in exasperation, but he nods his acknowledgment and returns to his own plant.
Professor Sprout raises a brow in their direction. James flashes her a sheepish grin. It’s always a bit difficult for James to pay attention in Herbology. Especially on Wednesdays. He’s too hungry to focus on plants.
“D’you think these things can grow fruit?” James finally pulls on his dragonhide gloves.
Sirius snorts from across the aisle. He’s been thorned a few times already today, though he’d taken it like a champ. His workstation is littered with spikes he’d pulled from his skin. “It’d be some nasty fruit, don’t you think?”
“I’d eat it. I’m starving.” Peter groans. He peers up at the others over a particularly large plant. He pokes at the thing with a trowel, seemingly too intimidated to actually start repotting.
Remus leans across his workstation to assist Peter, “It would kill you.” He says. “Probably.”
The color drains from Peter’s face. “Probably? What do you mean probably?”
James finishes digging up the SpikyBush and braces himself for impact. He firmly grasps the base of the plant and moves it to its new pit as quickly as possible. It’s not quick enough to avoid a thorn to the thumb. It stings a bit, even with the gloves.
It really is a shame these things aren’t edible. They’re quite unruly. Downright rude on occasion. It makes James itch with the desire to chop them up and eat them in a salad. Vengeance and whatnot.
“Maybe if you baked it into a pie or something it wouldn’t be that bad.” He muses.
“Don’t talk about pies.” Peter frowns. “I really am starved. I think I’m going to faint.”
Sirius snorts again, and James can’t help but laugh too.
“What’s your favorite kind of pie, Pete?” He asks, though he knows the answer. “Apple?”
“Stop it.”
“Pumpkin?” Sirius suggests.
“Stop.”
“Blueberry?” Remus offers.
James turns to Remus, jabbing his trowel at the smaller boy like a fencing sword. Remus jumps back, nearly bumping into Adrian Adderforth. “Blueberry pie!”
Remus blinks at him. “I haven’t actually got some on me, James.” He says slowly.
James waves him off, he swivels around so that his trowel is pointed at Peter. The other boy drops his pot, and holds up his hands in surrender. “You’ll be Violet Beauregarde.”
Peter catches on rather quickly— a skill crafted over a decade of listening to James’ fragmented thoughts. He frowns. “But she’s a girl.”
“You’ve read Dahl?” Remus raises his brows.
The spiky bush on the table spits more thorns at them. Remus ducks. James deflects them with the trowel.
He doesn’t appreciate the insinuation that he doesn’t read enough… it’s true, of course. James has not actually read any Dahl, but that’s beside the point!
“I could have.” He says.
Remus’ lips curl up into a self-satisfied smile. And embarrassment begins to creep up the back of James’ neck. It kneads at him like a heavy-handed massage.
“I could have!” He insists.
“But have you?”
James feels his cheeks flushing. Peter laughs.
“What are you on about?” Sirius asks.
***
About two months ago, James’ father had used an image projection spell to show James and Peter the most wonderful muggle portrait. He’d said it was more like tellyvision than a portrait, but James couldn’t quite wrap his head around that, considering it wasn’t inside the tellyvision.
According to Remus, the tellyvision portrait was based on a book. That doesn’t make much of a difference to James. There’s a character in it who turns into a giant blueberry for Merlin’s sake. Blueberries are Peter’s favorite. It’s the perfect costume!
James reaches over and snatches a couple chips off Peter’s plate. Peter squawks, but makes no move to protect his plate.
“If Peter’s Violet then who are we?” Remus asks.
“Violet’s a girl.” Peter pouts. “I don’t want to be a girl.”
“You’d rather be Augustus Gloop, then?” Sirius smirks as he places his serviette over his lap. He always eats like he’s at a meeting with the Supreme Mugwhump. Even if it’s just fish and chips.
Peter turns pink. Remus scowls at Sirius.
“No. If we’re doing this, I’ll be Augustus.” He says. James quirks a brow, and Remus shrugs. “I like chocolate. Sirius should be Veruca.”
“The girl who likes eggs?”
“It’s nuts in the book.” Remus says around a mouthful of fish. “If that helps.”
“It doesn’t.”
“She’s rich too.” James supplies. “It’s a good fit.”
Sirius stops cutting his food and glances around at his roommates. After not finding whatever he was hoping to see, he jabs his fork at James. “You’re rich too.”
“‘Course I am.” The Potters are incredibly wealthy. James is well aware. It’s good fun. “But not as rich as you.”
The Blacks are on another level. It’s unfathomable. James has heard rumors they live in a place. An entire palace! All to themselves!
James doesn’t think he’d like to live in a palace by himself. It would probably get lonely. Though, it’d be nice to have all that space to fly. He could probably build a real quidditch pitch to practice with Papa and Peter.
A great player deserves a great pitch… maybe a palace wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Sirius frowns. “I suppose that leaves you as Charlie?”
James stops his musing about palaces and grins. “Sure. Who else?”
Charlie Buckets is the hero of the film, and James is the most heroic by far. It’s only fitting, really.
“Mike Teavee.” Remus has cleared his plate much faster than usual. He looks smug as he pushes it into the center of the table. “You’re both violent.”
James gasps. Violent? Violent?! He makes a sound like a wounded animal and places a hand over his broken heart. “Violent? Me? Never.”
“Sure.”
“James Potter is not violent. He’s passionate!” James says, “And sometimes he’s simply passionate enough to get violent. There is a difference.”
“Right, and is talking about yourself in the third person a sign of passion or should I fetch Madam Pomfrey?”
James chucks a chip at Remus. The welsh boy makes a disapproving sound, but he smiles as he wipes vinegar off his cheek.