A/N: Ah yes. Well, this is not really a new story, per say. It's more just a...midnight munchie? It's where I'll put all my pointless, mundane little nothings- drabbles, itty bitty one-shots, dithering tirades, etc. etc.- that I usually write at midnight, when I'm hungry, and odd late night musings hit me. They will probably have very little to do with each other, if anything at all. They will probably have very little to do with anything, in fact. It's just a place for me to play around. Like a sandbox. Or a mud-wrestling tournament. So there you go.

Do review, yes?

-h

Disclaimer: Alas, someone else invented midnight snacks. And also inspiration. Harry Potter, too.

Midnight Munchies: The First Munchie

Provoking a Poke

(A ditty about the Marauders, a typical day in Herbology, and also gender confusion.)

For Toaster Strudels

Because who says you can't have breakfast at midnight?

"Maybe we should poke it."

"That's a really terrible idea."

"I don't see why."

"Well, for one thing it has spines which are poky as well as poisonous as well as very large, and for another you always want to poke things and it always ends up causing chaos and destruction. And sometimes even unusual chicken-bone-related accidents."

At this statement, a grey-eyed, handsome boy looked up from the text he was reading to the two boys across the table.

"He's right, you know," he said to a messy-haired boy with glasses who was currently leaned over squinting closely at an unmoving dark red plant before him. "I nearly died because of you, James."

The messy-haired boy called James look up from scrutinizing his plant. "You nearly died because of a chicken bone, Sirius," he said.

"Which I only choked on because you poked me in the groin. Cause and effect, mate. You would have been an accomplice to murder," he retorted.

"No I wouldn't have. Chicken bones don't have accomplices; they aren't alive," said James. "And anyways, I'm not suggesting we poke the plant in the groin, am I?"

"I don't know. Are you?"

James waved a hand exasperatedly. "No! Plants don't even have groins."

There was a silence at these words as the boys contemplated this. Then they all leaned towards their plants.

"I really don't think it's possible that they do have groins," said Remus, the one with the opinion about James' poking idea, peering at his and James' unmoving plant.

"I don't know," said Sirius. "Mine seems to be blushing a bit."

James looked up at him. "That's it's normal color, idiot."

Sirius opened his mouth to retort but ended up jerking back and slapping at his own plant as it reached a small vine out towards his hands. He gave the plant a fierce reprimanding look, and it seemed to wilt a bit in contrition. Sirius patted it in forgiveness.

"Good plant," he said. "No biting Mummy's hand. That is very bad."

James observed the scene with narrowed eyes and turned to the boy beside him. "Are you seeing this, Moony?" he demanded.

Remus Lupin, more affectionately called Moony by the ones who insisted upon dragging him into unlawful situations, surveyed the situation across from him blandly.

"What, Padfoot having gender-confusion issues? It's really nothing new, James. We've lived in the dorm with him for six years. We've seen his strange bathroom habits."

Sirius flipped a page in his text carelessly. "Is it so wrong enjoying taking a piss while in the seated position?" he asked unconcernedly. "You should try it sometime. Very restful for the buttocks."

Remus stared across at him as if he were a clown trying to solemnly lead a funeral procession, whilst James gesticulated wildly and point ferociously at Sirius' plant, which was now caressing Sirius' hand lovingly with its vine.

"See, Moony?" he demanded. "See? How come our plant isn't doing that?"

"Because your hands smell," Remus said absently, before addressing Sirius.

"Restful for the buttocks?" he wanted to know. "Sirius, you rest your buttocks every single day during classes."

Sirius made a funny face at his plant and tickled its sides. It vibrated with plant-laughter and wriggled its vines happily.

"And?"

"And my hands do not smell," James interrupted after having smelled them, glaring at the two (three, counting Peter, but Peter was ignoring everybody, sitting with his head in his hand, staring across the room at Amelia Midgen, looking extremely bored) boys who were ignoring him.

"And that means there's absolutely no reason for you to need to rest your buttocks any more than they've already been rested!"

"Nonsense. It's a big castle. Long way between classes and all that."

Remus snorted. "It is, is it? And I suppose that's why no one else needs to rest their buttocks between classes."

"No one else thinks my hands smell, either."

"I don't care about everyone else, Moony. I am my own person. Non-conformity. Free love. Peace and shite."

"Peace? Peace? You? Having anything to do with peace? That is, quite honestly, the most ridiculous thing I have heard you say today, and yes, that's counting the thing about toilet paper."

"Oh come now. The toilet paper theory was highly plausible."

Remus only snorted.

"It was! With enough of it, we could definitely repel Peter from the roof to the girls' dormitory window."

"Yes, and we could also use it to wipe my hands of their non-existent stench."

James was, once again, ignored.

"It still defeats me how you can think that he would not be noticed."

"People often don't notice things that are right in front of their noses."

"Yes well, they do notice things that are right in front of their faces. Especially if those things are wrapped in ridiculous amounts of toilet paper."

"Maybe," Sirius answered. "But this is Peter we're talking about, and with him we get the added bonus of the fact that no one ever notices him anyways."

"People do notice Peter," Remus said. "Sometimes."

"Not often."

"They do when he's singing Christmas carols."

"And also when he's smelling people's hands and informing the accusers that they are wrong."

"Well, it isn't Christmas, and he has no reason to sing and bust peoples eardrums, so my theory would work."

"Peter, smell my hands."

Remus finally sighed exasperatedly. "This is the stupidest argument I've ever had in my life, and yes, that's including the one today about floss."

Sirius' plant was now posing dramatically so as Sirius could sketch it out more accurately, and Sirius smiled at it and fed it a dead fly.

"My theory about floss was definitely true. It would have been wonderful reinforcement for the toilet paper."

"Yes, and probably would have sliced Peter into pieces like a boiled egg."

"Peter, are you listening to me? Smell my hands!"

James thrust his hands forcefully into Peter's face, and the boy finally took his eyes off Amelia Midgen to stare at James.

"What?"

"Were you staring at Amelia Midgen again?" James asked, noticing where Peter had been looking off to.

"Yes," Peter answered unconcernedly. "I keep thinking she's finally going to explode, and I don't want to miss it."

Amelia Midgen had a bit of an acne problem. Peter was fascinated by it.

James only stared for a moment before once again thrusting his hands at Peter.

"Smell my hands," he ordered.

"Why?" Peter wanted to know.

"Because Remus says they smell."

"And you don't believe him?"

"Of course not!"

"Well then why do you need me to smell them?"

James made a frustrated noise and whipped around in exasperation.

"Fine," he muttered, grabbing his quill. "If everyone's just going to ignore me…"

James advanced towards his apathetic plant.

"Sirius, eating gelatin mix will not make you piss out a noodle."

"Oh, so you've tried it?"

"Of course not."

"Well then how do you know?"

"I know because it's common sense."

"Common sense like not drinking your tea too hot is common sense, or common sense like taking a flying leap at the statue of Barnabas the Barmy and expecting him to catch you is common sense?"

Remus reddened. "Oh, would you come off it? That was only once, and after you hit me with too strong a cheering charm in class."

Sirius made to retort, but stopped when a scream sliced through the buzzing of the greenhouse. He, Remus, and Peter turned to stare at a flailing James Potter, who's entire head was engulfed in the bowels of his apparently not-so-apathetic plant.

"James is having his head eaten by his plant," Peter informed, cocking his head sideways to observe as James flailed about the greenhouse.

Remus and Sirius nodded in agreement.

"Interesting," Sirius said.

"I told him not to poke it," Remus said.

"You realized that the fangs of the Venomous Tantacula are, in fact, venomous, don't you?" Lily Evans said. She was leaning towards the group of boys from the other end of the table, observing the wailing James Potter in bland detachment.

Peter, Sirius, and Remus all nodded.

"I don't think they have enough poison at such a young age to kill him," Remus told her.

"Hm," she said. "How unfortunate."

James' wailing stopped momentarily, and he turned to face Lily, obviously estimating where she was by the sound of her voice, since he'd ended up addressing the large Flutterbloom three feet to Lily's right.

"Fine, Evans," said his muffled voice from within its encasement. Lily tried not to laugh at the fact that a boy with a flowerpot for a head was trying to look menacing. "But if I die from this, I'm coming back to haunt you until the day you die for showing no sympathy for a man in agony."

Lily paled. "Professor Sprout!" she exclaimed, waving her hand in the air immediately. "Professor Sprout, Potter's had his head eaten by his Venomous Tantacula, may I take him to Madam Pomfrey?"

The rest of the Marauders watched as Lily received consent from Professor Sprout and grabbed James by the scruff of the neck.

"Go get 'em, Prongsie!" Sirius yelled, and was rewarded with a rude hand gesture from his friend before he was yanked outside by an annoyed Lily Evans.

"Think they'll bond over this and she'll agree to snog him in Hogsmeade?" he asked Remus.

"Yes. And I also think your theory that pumpkin pasties are a cure for cancer isn't completely ridiculous and entirely beyond the truth."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you were the one testing that."

"You're right. You were. And you didn't even have cancer."

"You only think that because the pasties cured it so fast it was never detectable."

"Really? Well then why, pray tell, did you never mention your ailment until after you needed an excuse for stealing Frank Longbottom's pastie stash?"

Peter turned away from his bickering friends and resumed his staring at Amelia Midgen. It really was quite extraordinary, her acne. Completely fascinating. She really did look like she was on the very brink of explosion.

"Maybe if I poked her…"

A/N: Ah, pointless Marauder fun :) Tell me how you liked it, yes?

-h