Muffin Time!
I sacrificed it all for a life to call mine
All the love and security to be myself, oh, I
I know that money ain't important
And it don't mean you're the best
But I earned it all myself and I'm a millionairess
I did it my way, baby
Nothing in this world could change me
James was on his way to Peters flat carrying three anatomy textbooks. He never could have imagined himself doing this, but Peter is studying for an exam and he needs all of the help he could possibly get from his friends.
Once Prongs finished taking the elevator all the way up to the 7th floor (he was very Jealous of Wormtail for having a flat with one) he could already hear everyone whining before even knocking on the door. He rang the doorbell only to be greeted by what looked like a very sleep deprived Dorcas.
“Oh great you brought the books now we cant even procrastinate anymore.” she said.
James practically invited himself in only to find out everyone was in a pretty shitty mood. Remus was studying for his literature exam which he would definitely ace (like any other he had had since kindergarten) while Sirius was laying in his lap commenting on every line he considered stupid. Peter was bent over two textbooks and a few notebooks at the same time holding a huge cup of strong, black coffee (emphasis on huge). Marlene was playing Subnautica on Peter's computer while Dorcas apparently resorted to studying in the kitchen because everyone was too distracting for her.
“Why the fuck do they make us learn this stupid stuff? I really couldn't care less about how much the thyroid gland weighs” Peter said, clutching his hair in his hands.
“Isn't it something like 25 grams?” James responded, handing Peter the textbooks he asked for.
“You think this is funny James? I'm losing my shit out here and you're bloody right. It is 25 grams. I absolutely hate you.”
“What can I say Prongs…I peaked in highschool” Prongs grinned
“Oh come on everyone knows how much the thyroid weighs, if Peter would have asked me that I would've known the answer.” Sirius bragged.
“Well alright then, since you both think you're so smart how about you tell me what type of hormones the adenohypophysis secretes?
“Tropic and non-tropic” Sirius, Remus and James responded at the same time. Peter just gave them a very annoyed and threatening look and started reading again, clearly upset.
“Why are you even studying glands anyway? I thought you didn't learn those until later in the year” James asked.
“Yeah well my professor is fucked in the head im telling you, I cant learn shit form her.” Peter responded.
James felt like he was disturbing him so he decided to check on Dorcas in the kitchen (in reality he was just hungry but couldn't bring himself to say so).
“James you're interrupting me”
“Should've stayed at home if you wanted to study alone” he said
“Well, no. It's just this chapter, I can't understand it for the life of me.” Dorcas was rubbing her eyes, clearly tired.
“What is it on?” James said glancing in her book “Oh, bones! I loved this chapter when I did biology!”
“Yeah well this is pre med not highschool biology class you twat, it's obviously harder”
James rolled his eyes and started rummaging through Peter's kitchen, looking for something to eat. Just then he found a huge, enormous, unusually sized unused bag of cinnamon. He read the label on it only to find out it expires in a few days. James needed to make use of it.
“Wormtail! What the heck is this?? No one sane owns this much cinnamon? Were you trying to kill yourself or something? Anyway it's almost expired. Can I make muffins with it?” James asked, running back in the living room and nearly slipping on his way there.
“As long as you shut the fuck up and leave me alone for the next few hours you can burn this whole flat for all I care. Do whatever you want."Peter said.
So James got started on making muffins. The cinnamon ones have always been his favourite. Euphemia taught him how to make them for Christmas when he was little and Prongs have been loving them ever since. The ones he made were the best. Nothing compared to James Potter's love for making cinnamon muffins.
One thing he loved about Wormtail's kitchen is that it was always full of food, unlike his. He found every ingredient he needed along with three whole muffin trays. No one ever needed this many but apparently Peter still happened to have them. He put on a pink apron and mixed everything together. Dorcas resorted to studying in the bathroom because James was too disturbing, humming while he tasted the batter every five seconds ( and it tasted really darn good too!) . He made enough muffin batter for the whole city. The three trays Peter had were enough for only about half of the batter James had made (most of the ingredients Wormtail had were nearly expired, so he wanted to make use of them). Prongs decided on this:
He would pop two trays in the oven and let them bake peacefully for an hour, time during which he would go out and buy a fourth tray to make everything move faster. Once the first two are out he would add the next ones and so on until every muffin is finished.
After adding the first set in the oven he ran out the door to the grocery store at the bottom of Peter's flat in search of a muffin tray. While walking around he also stopped to buy some greek yogurt and some diet coke Marlene had asked for and a family sized bag of sour cream and onion chips for Sirius. While browsing around the kitchen utensils aisle he found out only one tray was left, and just when he leaned in closer to grab it he felt a light touch on his shoulder.
“Well it's nice to see you here, stranger.” a familiar voice greeted him.
James looked up to see Regulus, who looked different than usual. His hair was tied in the back, with a few shorter strands popping out in the front. He was wearing a short black jacket with some dark blue jeans.
“Regulus! Hi!” James tried not to make the interaction awkward, but sort of failed.
“Making muffins I assume?” he said grinning
“Well, Peter had this huge bag of cinnamon in his kitchen and I made like a shit ton of batter and went out to buy one more tray to finish baking them before midnight. I'll have like 100 or something” Prongs tried to ignore the obvious signs that Regulus was holding back laughter.
“If you're not fully out by Wednesday bring me some will you? Haven't had a proper sweet in decades.”
“Sure I will!” James was glancing around, trying not to seem too excited about the opportunity to share his (brilliant) cooking with someone, and happened to notice how Reglus was standing. His legs were naturally turned out, like the first position they did in class, only he was standing like it was completely normal. James admired that.
“Anyway ive got to go now. Don't forget to work outside of class okay? I will notice, trust!” Regulus said, stepping away and waving slightly before running to a different aisle.
James was so phased by the conversation that he just paid and left, going back to Peters as soon as he could. He arrived just on time to take the first set out of the oven, and washed the new pan which only had 10 holes, not 12 like the rest , then added the batter. He had always found baking somewhat therapeutic, especially if it meant making his favourite cinnamon muffins. He kept hearing Peter groaning in the background and Sirius trying to convince Dorcas to leave the bathroom because he needed to pee but in James’ world, nothing mattered more than the absurd amount of dessert he was making.
Prongs did in fact manage to finish baking before midnight (ending up with 122 muffins), however neither Peter or Dorcas managed to memorise even half of what will be given on their test. Instead of constantly reading they switched to flashcards, and everyone resorted to sitting around in a circle having to answer a question (regardless of whether or not they knew anything about medicine) and if they got it right they would be rewarded with a muffin. Marlene, who knew the least about the subject, was asking the questions.
“Okay, Sirius. What is the inner ear made out of? Also what is the other name for the eardrum.”
“Well I think it has the cochlea, which detects vibrations, the vestibular system with otoliths and perilymph and endolymph, like the fluids. The other name for the eardrum is the tympanic membrane.” he responded, taking a bit of time trying to remember.
“What the fuck? How do you remember all this stuff?” Peter was offended.
“Wormtail, you have to wait your turn! Remus! What is the middle layer of the eye called and what is it made of!”
“Err.. something like the vascular tunic? I dunno, I guess it had the Iris, Choroid and Ciliary body? I never liked the eye.”
“Dude. You guys would be top of the class in pre med if you would have applied. You didn't even study along with us. How do you know this? Plus Moony is an English major! So was James! When the fuck did you guys learn this stuff?
“Was me graduating five years early not a sign of superior intelligence to you?” James asked, grinning. “I know everything!”
Eventually everyone ate a few muffins, but James was still left with an absurd amount of 98 muffins. He ended up taking 28 home, leaving 14 for Peter, 14 for Remus and Sirius and 14 for Marlene and Dorcas.
He arrived home at around 3PM on Sunday, and opened his laptop to find an email from Evan:
Here is a document for the first chapter of my book! Please let me know when you get started on it.
James saved the document and then went straight to sleep, given the fact he pulled an all-nighter with Peter and Dorcas.
*
*
*
On Sunday James slept in, waking up no later than 1PM. He brushed his teeth and didn't bother to change from his pajamas, concluding that half of the day is already gone and he will be back to sleep soon enough.
For breakfast he had a mug of warm milk and 3 whole muffins. Very nutritious, only about 1000 calories. Afterwards he felt motivated to clean the mess around his flat, so he turned on Prix de Lausanne on his TV and got started.
He began by sorting out his clothes, anything that needed washing was thrown on the bathroom floor, anything that needed ironing was put somewhere in the kitchen and the perfectly fine clothes were placed back in his wardrobe. For a good ten minutes the house seemed messier than it actually was, but you do have to make a bigger mess in order to clean the original one. He threw every dirty thing in the washer, and asked his mum if he could leave a bag of clothes that needed ironing at her house tomorrow (James was perfectly capable of ironing them on his own, but he decided not to.)
Afterwards he dusted some areas around the house, but not very seriously since he considered dusting completely pointless, given no one really cares about how thick the dust in your house is. He arranged his shampoos and any other product in alphabetical order and actually bothered to wash the millions of cups that gathered in his living room or bedroom in the last couple of days. He arranged his half empty fridge and threw out some moldy bread he didn't like in the first place, then filled up a trash bag with empty plastic bottles.
Once Prongs felt tired enough, he decided to do some stretching. He miraculously expected to get his splits in one day, but apparently not. He began doing the same routine he found on youtube consisting of lunges, active stretches and holding the splits for a few minutes. He looked ridiculous, no one could pay him to do that in front of Sirius or Mary who would absolutely roast the shit out of him, but nevertheless James kept working and stretching, driven by his ambition and desire to be the best.
After all that work he ate some instant ramen that was almost expired and ate a few cupcakes, then sent a text to Evan:
“Will read tonight. Think we can meet on Monday to discuss potential issues I will spot or things like that? Same place as last time?” He always did this with his clients, he needed to know their style of writing and preferences before doing some drastic editing.
“Sure!” Evan was quick to respond.
At 5PM James tucked himself into bed, still in the same outfit he's been wearing since he woke up. He grabbed his laptop and placed it on his lap, holding it just far away enough for his arms to be slightly relaxed, then, he began reading. The book was called The clandestine intricacies of ballet. Prongs liked the title, it was sort of poeting and hard to understand, perfectly suited for a book about ballet. Evan left a note right at the start, to let James know how the whole book will unfold. It will show each part of a dancer's life, starting from getting your first ever pair of flats to becoming a teacher, that's how the chapters will progress. James made a mental note to remember that and began reading:
The average ballerina will be put in classes at ages three to five by their parents. There are actually very few little children out there who have the initiative to start ballet on their own. The first classes are never serious, it's just learning how to point your foot, or basic terminology thought under easier terms like the Pas de Bourree or Plies. Most children at that age are not conscious enough to fully understand what is happening, though some, who are more intensely trained, begin to understand how difficult ballet is from their first days at the studio. Pandora Lovegood, graduate from Vaganova academy and principal dancer at the Paris Opera, stated the following: “I was five crying about how bad my turnout is, while the other children around me were still playing with toys! I wanted to go to Vaganova ever since I was little, so I never really got a break from ballet. I had my oversplits by the time I was five and a half. Some begin easy while others work hard from the moment they start.” Vaganova academy is the most prestigious ballet school up to date. Every big name in ballet so far has attended at least a summer school there. Russia has always been more strict when it comes to ballet. If you're interested in learning more about Vaganova academy, I highly suggest watching the documentary Dance of the Little Swanson Youtube. It shows a realistic admission process along with some classes at the academy.
Little ballerinas who apply to prestigious schools are required to be skinny, with some of them beginning to diet as soon as they start school, to have natural arches and turnout, a great deal of flexibility, lots of strength and the capability of leaving home young, with many dancers moving from city to city from ages such as 7 years old. Summer intensives, scholarships and week-long competitions are really common, the most talented ballerinas getting to attend about 5 to 15 intensives and competitions yearly.
Ballet also requires a great deal of discipline, you're allowed to cry but don't expect anyone to come and hug you. The teachers are strict, each of them looking to raise the best ballerinas of the century. Some of the greatest names that are still teaching are Minerva Mcgonagall, winner of the 1975 Prix de Lausanne and Horace Sulghorn, who also won the Prix in 1980.
That was about as much as James managed to read before he got hungry, again. He ordered some fried chicken, stating that he was eating for all of those ballerinas who couldn't. The book was good, heartbreaking, but good. Prongs knew ballet is hard, he knew the environment was extremely competitive and difficult to live in, but he never imagined it would be this intense. While waiting for his food he searched for the documentary that was mentioned. It had 48 minutes, so he figured it would be nice to watch while eating. As soon as his food arrived he started watching the documentary. He saw how many dancers struggled, the emotion in their eyes, trying to lift their legs up high while the teachers were watching them, quickly eliminating most of the girls, and keeping a lot of the boys.
James quickly found out the way girls were being judged was more harsh. If they didn't have the full package, if they weren't perfect, the teachers would consider them just another fish in the sea. For boys however, as long as their jumps were high and they had a little bit of confidence and strength they could easily pass.
The documentary ended up being so good that James fully forgot about his food and was just watching, paying attention to everything, as you were supposed to do in ballet. He tried to mimic the stretches he saw each student do, holding his splits for a little longer than usual because he felt guilty that there were people out there working this hard while he was lying on his couch eating chicken. He also found out that there were other types of flexibility that really mattered, like his back. One time in middle school Regulus showed him how to do a bridge, but he hasn't attempted one since then. He decided to give it a try only to discover that his back is actually pretty flexible for an average 23 year old. He decided to also work on it, to hopefully get it as flexible and strong as possible so he can have an impressive arabesque . ( he learned that term while watching Prix de Lausanne, its when you lift your leg behind you and hold it up there for a while, looks amazing if you're flexible enough.) He also decided he would try to lose a little bit of weight, sure he was strong but there was also a lot of fat on his body that he didn't like.
James was happy. He hadn't felt this obsessed with something for a really long time. English had always been his passion but this time ballet felt different. Like a burning sensation that was driving him to want to become better and better with each passing day. He was eager to learn and improve. James Potter wanted to dance his heart out on stage and take a big bow afterwards . Would the feeling last? No one knows. But he wanted to enjoy it while it was there.