Lads' Day Out

"What? You takin' the piss?" inquired Sirius skeptically.
"Whae me? The president of the Maggie fan club, me. Aye, ya wee radge! Had ya goin' but," laughed the giant.
"Ya cunt ya!" Sirius found it impossible to keep a straight face, and dissolved into chuckles himself as they walked quickly from the scene of their recent crime.
"Montrose Magpies, fuckin' lot o' prize squibs, and no mistake. Fly like Muggles with brooms up their arses."

Sirius nodded absently, half his mind being occupied with listening for any Sirens Charms in the distance. He heard none, and began to relax.
"Anyway, I found these on the fat fuck back there..." Hagrid produced glimmering Quidditch tickets. "Looks like we're goin' to the game, eh?"
"Aye, fuckin' brilliant mate. Where's the portkey?"
Hagrid squinted closely at the back of the tickets, "Er... Djinn's Cave o' Curry... oh, aye, ya ken it, the kebab shop?"
"Aye, no' a bad vindaloo."
"Best get there, we've missed the fuckin' mascots. I love the mascots." Hagrid sniffed and rubbed his nose, shivering as if to blame the chill air.
"Oi, no greetin' over no fuckin' mascots! Ya biscuit-ersed cunt."
"Ta fuck..." Hagrid gave Sirius a small shove, sending the Animagus halfway across the street. Sirius laughed happily and bounded after his friend. It was then that his eye was caught.

"Hold up, Hazzers. Look, it's the cunt himself." Sirius grabbed his friend's generous sleeve and guided his drunken gaze across the street. It was a few seconds before Hagrid recognized the "cunt" in question.
"Fuckin' Snape!" he hissed.

Severus Snape looked furtively up and down the street before leaving "Radchencko's Magical Vinyl Shoppe" with a thin square packet under his arm.

"What's the geezer up to then?"
"Hssh, get over here." Hagrid pulled his friend a little ways into an alley and put his finger to his lips. Looking up in the air he shouted: "Oi, Severus, you oily-haired cunt!"

Snape froze in mid-street, twisting this way and that looking for his persecutor. Other pedestrians stared at Snape and looked around in distaste.
"Get back to yer potions, ye arse shagger!" Hagrid covered his mouth and slid down the wall in a fit of laughter.
Sirius Black took the packet of peanuts from the half-giant's hand. Waving his wand over the bag, he whispered, "Impetus Arachis", and the peanuts flew from the bag and around the corner.

After a few breaths of silence, Snape decided the abuse had ended. No doubt some jealous swine from school had cast the "Offensive Name Curse" on him. But it seemed safe enough now...smack. He felt a sharp pain on the back of his head, as if pelted by a small hard salt-covered object. He turned, only to be struck in the face by two salted peanuts. Snape began to run, a swarm of peanuts rapidly gaining on him. He swore to himself someone would pay for this.

"I'd give fifty Galleons to see the look on that ponce's face when he's done running," said a nearly-recovered Hagrid.
"Fuckin' radge, what's the cunt doin' in a record shop? Doss bastard!"
"I dinnae tell ya?" asked Hagrid as he rose and dusted his pants. "I caught the cunt in his room, mixin' on the turntables...scratchin'."
"No, fir fuck's sake."
"Oh aye, 'course he said they're a mates, jes' holdin' 'em likes, but no ol' cuntybaws fancies hisself a DJ."
Sirius considered this shocking new intelligence: "Fuckin' wanker!"