He… drools.

I never imagined that part of dogsitting. I always thought that they were just, I dunno, neat. Like the cat I had last year, before Petunia chucked – ahem. Mr. Fuzzypaws passed away.

Anyways, that damn cat may've scratched, bit, and clawed with everything in his tiny body, but at least he didn't friggen drool. This is disgusting.

"Can't Remus take him?" I ask urgently, looking at James over the shaggy black mutt's head. "I mean…well?"

James shakes his head. I can see a tiny bit with laughter in his shoulders. "Moony can't handle the fur. He kicked poor Padf --- Orion the last time I made him dogsit." He sits down next to me on my bed and slings an arm around my shoulders lightly. "Come on," he teases. "Lily Evans can conquer the world, but she can't handle a little mutt?"

The furball barks like a little chuckle. Fuck my life. Merlin.

"What about Peter?" I say wildly. "He likes animals!"

Okay, maybe that's a tad bit of a stretch. Peter…tolerates animals. Sort of. Anything bigger than a squirrel makes him shiver a bit, but, I mean, he could take Orion! The kid is stronger than he looks!

…I think.

James laughs. "Peter? Come on." He gets up, slings his pack over his shoulder, and gives me a quick peck on the lips. "It's just overnight. I have to go see my mother. It is Christmas, after all."

He and Orion give me those big puppy dog eyes, the ones that only Sirius has perfected, tho that mutt comes pretty damn close. He even has Sirius's eyes.

"Where's Siri again?"

James laughs again and pats the dog's head. "He's at his mother's until tomorrow morning, when he'll high-tail it back here. Christmas without Hogwarts just isn't the same," he teases, and I blush. Yes, I'm the one that said that only three days ago. Yes, he completely used that in order to make me take care of this damn dog. Yes, I really should have a dumber boyfriend. Merlin watch over me.

"It's just one night," he says again, and kisses me goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow at dinner."

"I'm holding you to that, Potter," I call at him, only half joking. He rolls his eyes as he steps into the green of the floo fire, that grin plastered across his face.

"Ehm."

This damn dog is staring at me. And drooling. I hate drool. And there's a puddle of it on my dormitory floor. James had better appreciate this.

"Ahem." I clear my throat once more. Merlin's pants, why didn't Sirius take this damn thing with him? Oh. Of course. Because he has a crazy lunatic for a mother. Silly me, I forgot.

…The sad thing is, the only one here to appreciate the sarcasm is me, and Orion.

"Puppy want food?" I say finally.

It's like I shot him with a bounce charm. He hops up, his entire body wiggling like a fucking hula girl, and bounds out the door of the Head's dormitory.

Oh Lord. Those poor, poor house elves.

I sit him down outside the painting of the fruit and crouch down to his level. He pants excitedly, the shaggy fur hanging in his eyes. I grab his jaw so that he has to look at me.

"No funny business, got it, puppy?" I say forcefully. He hacks, something like a chuckle. I take that as a yes.

Okay, I've remembered why I'm a cat person. Well, I've been forcibly reminded of it, really.

Orion bounds in and immediately knocks over two elves in tea cozies, slurps up a spilled cup of tea, and swipes clean a fully-loaded tray with one spasm of his tail. The elves go about after him like it's a regular occurrence – never mind. It probably is, knowing James and Sirius. And I suppose Remus as well – maybe a practical joke, framing James for what this mop-topped mutt does –

My musings are cut short with a tinkling of china.

"I'm sorry," I say to the nearest house elf.

She widens her eyes. "Oh, no, miss, we is grateful for the work, miss, we love Mr. Black, miss!" And she scuttles off to brew a cup of coffee.

Mr. Black. Sirius even has the house elves addressing his dog as superior.

I'm going to kick his arse when I see him next.

"Enough, you mangy mutt!" I say loudly, grabbing his collar with one fist. It's nearly one in the morning and this dog has been eating nonstop. I've had to drink three coffees just to be able to stay awake. And I don't exactly handle my caffeine well. (Ask Remus. He's happy to tell stories. Trust me.)

The dog wags his tail and follows me pretty readily out the door. Behind us are choruses of "Thank you miss and sir!" and "Come again, Miss Evans!" It's kind of sickening.

But I like eggs too much to strike against the slave labor. So…

Anyways, I lead the mutt up stairs to the portrait of the monkey in a thick brown tweed suit. The monkey eyes me beadily as I say, "Mossy mountains!"

Nothing.

"Ahem." I try again. "Mossy mountains!"

The stupid thing.

The dog sits back on his haunches and grins as I take out my wand and begin to pace. Stupid monkey. Stupid dog. Stupid James for landing me in this bloody mess.

I suppose he changed the password, in order for me to feel like a royal git as soon as I took his dog out for a bite to eat. It sounds like something that yellow bastard would do.

Right then. I face the monkey squarely. There's only one thing I can think of that James would use as the bloody password. I'm going to get him for this.

"James Potter," I say quietly, rage in my voice, "Is the most handsome wizard in Hogwarts."

The monkey shreiks and swings open to let me in.

…Take my advice, ladies. Never date a Marauder.

Except maybe Peter. Peter barely counts, poor thing.

"No."

Hrpmph.

"No, you little git, you're not sleeping in my bed!"

He stares at me, with those big, tortured gray eyes like I'm the only person in the world that could make him happy, and I'm not. Ugh.

"I don't even let James sleep in my bed, you great oaf," I say severely. I mean, really? No bloody way.

He whines pitifully, eyes wide, pawing at the dust ruffle of my bed. The poor thing.

...Did I really just think that?

I sigh and lift up the covers, whistling. I don't think I have much choice in the matter.

Immediately he springs up, panting happily, and grabs my pillow - my favorite pillow!! - in his droolly mouth and puts it carefully where he wants it. Then he flops down on his back, wriggles about a bit with his tongue lolling out, and settles with a grunt on his back with his paws in the air.

I lay on my back too, hands folded, staring at the canopy as his snores roll over me.

...And drools on my pillow.

James rubs my back slowly, the heels of his hands kneading the knots out of my shoulders. Candles cast gentle light over the dark red room. The softest of cusions is my bed. I drift into quiet peace as he rubs my back, hands running down my spine -

Awboof.

-- the faint scent of burning candles --

Wboof!

-- the massage oil dripping onto my face --

I open my eyes.

...That's not massage oil.

I scream and roll as far away from the dark, furry muzzle that's shoved into my face, frantically trying to get his repulsive spit off my face. I have had enough friggen drool.

Of course, "as far away" really means "straight onto the hard, unforgiving floor that does absolutely nothing for my already sore back".

"Hello?"

"James!"

I throw myself off the floor and into his waiting arms. Thank God for him. I dunno what the hell I'd've done with even one more minute of this mutt.

James laughs into my neck, his day-old scruffle rubbing roughness into it. Oh my Merlin. I've never been this happy to see a boy.

"How was he?" he asks, looking over my head at the demon. "Behave himself?"

I glance at Orion. He's curled up neatly on the floor with his tail tucked around his muzzle (thirty seconds ago he was taking up the entirety of the couch, and I was stuck on the floor). At the attention he looks up, like he's hoping for a treat.

"It was awful," I say, shuddering.

"It can't've been that bad."

"It was! He ate more than twice his weight, and he wouldn't leave me alone, and he drools, even in my bed, it's disgusting --"

James, who'd been laughing at me, suddenly stiffens. "He was in your bed?"

"Yes, the beast wouldn't let me be so he slept in my --"

"He slept in your bed? I don't even sleep in your bed!"

I stare at him. "I know, dear." He's jealous of a dog. Lord help me.

James pulls his wand slowly, staring down the mutt. Orion stands up slowly, hackles raised, eyes locked on James. And suddenly an unmistakeably mischevious grin spreads across his face.

"Get back here, you mutt!" James howls, giving chase as Orion sprints out the portrait hole and is gone.

I need a dose of Essence of Sanity. And maybe some strong firewhiskey.

I wonder what Remus is up to...

Um, hi!

I know, I know, it's been a long time. A lot's been happening. Sorry to say that my posts here will be rare, because my feedback is rare. Comment, read, review people! And if you want more of my writing, check out my blog (it's on my profile) and comment there too. Thanks.

Much love,

Maraudette :)