My Stupid Mouth

Chapter 1

"Draco? Draco, hello? Draco, wake up!"

Draco´s eyes blinked open slowly. "Unh?"

He saw three blurry figures around him, and one of them was calling his name repeatedly, slapping his face gently. He shook his head, trying to clear the haze shrouding his vision, sitting up. Feeling dizzy, he placed a hand to his forehead.

"Oh, thank goodness!" It was Dumbledore´s voice. "We were worried there for a second. I thought I was going to have to use Enervate."

As the shapes became sharper, Draco saw all three had their wands out and pointed at him, posed and ready.

"Are you all right?" came the concerned voice of the Potter look-alike.

"I'm fine. Now who are you and how did we get here?" Draco snapped angrily, his blue (grey in his anger) eyes flashing coldly.

The look-alike (Draco, in his mind, called him Potter Wannabe) cast a slightly confused glance to the other person across from him. "Uh. . .Professor?"

"James. . ." Dumbledore's voice spoke calmly. "Perhaps it will be best if you left us now?"

"B-But--!"

"Now," Dumbledore said firmly.

"Oh, bloody--" Harry Wannabe caught himself. "Yeah, all right, fine." As Draco heard his footsteps recede, he distinctly caught him muttering under his breath, "Missing out on a detention, dammit."

Melissa frowned, leaning forward, pressing a hand against Draco´s slightly clammy forehead. "Malfoy--"

He swatted her hand away in irritation, squirming in his seat. His mother did that, and it made him feel extremely uncomfortable--now, with a Gryffindor, no less, was no different. "Stop. I´m fine. Could you just answer my question, please?"

Dumbledore, he could now see, also leaned close. "Miss Jones told us from what time you were--1996."

"Yes," Draco agreed slowly, raising a delicate eyebrow, slumping down further in his seat--oddly, Dumbledore´s look was intimidating.

"Where were you last?" Dumbledore asked gently, his bright, blue eyes glinting in a curious way.

"We were in Potions class, and Jones and I had to do this spell that was supposed to send us back in time five minutes. . ." He trailed off, then continued. "Whatever will Snape say to this? Even more important, what will my father say?" Draco asked more to himself than to the others, his brow furrowed in worry.

"Malfoy, who gives?" Melissa asked impatiently, tapping her foot. "I doubt Professor Dumbledore will care about your father--or, for that matter, Snape."

"Snape? Do you, perchance, mean Severus Snape?" Professor Dumbledore asked solemnly.

"Yes, we do. Why?" they said in unison, then glared at each other, eyes flashing threateningly.

"Curious," Dumbledore muttered, stroking his beard, which still had some auburn hairs in it. "Quite curious, that Severus Snape should become a professor. Tell me," he said, turning to them, "Who is headmaster in 1996?"

Draco began to say something, but Melissa interrupted him. "You, sir. And you're also quite respected."

Casting his nemesis a sharp look, Draco finished quite rudely for her: "They view you as the very image of safety, and as thus, they think their children are safe under your care, which is not true. A student, just last year--"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Melissa hissed. She didn't particularly want Dumbledore to know about Cedric, for some odd reason. He couldn't start grieving years before Cedric was born--that, and if they were truly in the past, would be ruining the events of history that needed to transpire.

Not that they weren´t ruining it already.

"No!" Draco hissed back.

"Do you want to be unconscious again, Malfoy?" Melissa growled, raising a fist and shaking it at him.

"Not really," Draco answered coldly.

"Then don't tell him!"

"Hmph." Sniffing the air in a snobbish manner, Draco waved his hand for Dumbledore to continue.

-What are you? Some kind of reincarnation of a James Bond villain?-

Who?

-Never mind. Just never mind- There was a pause. -Idiot-

What´d you call me?

-Nothing-

Another pause. -Idiot-

Pot de moutarde

, Draco's thought sent.

-What did you just call me?-

A jar of mustard in French

.

-And why did you call me that?-

Because you reminded me of one, came Draco's prompt thought.

-Of a jar of mustard?-

Yes

. Such a smart little birdie!

-Shut up, Malfoy-

Ha ha ha. Within his mind, Draco´s laughter was cold. Make me.

-Oh, I´ll make you Mr. `Pot de moutarde.´ I´ll take my wand, ram it up your ass, and knock you into next week!-

"Ahem." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "But either you two stop calling each other pot de moutarde´s, or I´m going to have to assign you both a detention once we get this business all cleared up."

Melissa blushed furiously while Draco scowled.

The former looked at him in curiosity, titling her head a little to the side, her brow furrowing, the stubborn line showing as it formed. "How did you know what we were thinking? Do you read minds?"

Well, no shit, Jones.

-Eat glue, Malfoy-

Huh? What´s glue?

-Eat it and then maybe I´ll tell you-

Professor Dumbledore looked gravely at Draco. "You wouldn't want to eat it, I'm afraid. I tried it once, in my younger years. It stuck in my throat in a most dreadful way."

Melissa laughed. "Professor Dumbledore! Why would you want to eat glue? I mean, you're not like Bill Gates or someone."

"Who?" Professor Dumbledore and Draco asked at the same time, totally bewildered.

She sighed theatrically, rolling her eyes to heaven as if to ask, Why was I stuck with this bunch of idiots? "He's this Muggle guy who started making computers for people last year. He's already quite famous, but he was one of those kids who ate glue and crayons and stuff."

"Crayons?" Draco asked curiously. "What're those?"

"Muggle objects that children use to color with."

"Oh." Draco felt really stupid now--which never happened, usually, because he was a Malfoy.

-Good. You should feel like that. And get used to it-

"Miss Jones, be kind. It appears you two are going to be the only ones from your time here, until we find the antidote. Did he tell you what the name of this potion was?"

"He said it, but I can't remember it," Melissa said, thinking hard, a frown on her lips.

"It's odd, but neither can I," Draco agreed, perplexed. A Malfoy ought to remember everything told to him, or so his father would say. Like his father abided by that rule. His silver eyebrows furrowed much in the same way Melissa´s had moments earlier, his own stubborn line showing. How come he couldn´t remember anything. . .?

Dumbledore sighed. "This is not good." He clapped his hands together. "Until we figure out how to send you thirty-five years back in time, I´m afraid you´ll have to attend school here as fifth years." Reading her thoughts, he added, "And Miss Jones, I know you´re a fourth year, but at this day in time, we do not have advanced classes." He smiled, eyes twinkling in amusement. "You´ll have to make do."

Draco cleared his throat. "Just how, sir, are you going to explain our appearance?"

Dumbledore´s smile widened. "That, Mr. Malfoy, is quite easy. You will be new students attending the school as transfers. If anyone asks, just reply that you are Draco Vinnins and Melissa Crater. As you see, we already have a Mr. Malfoy and Miss Jones in school--confusion would arise."

Melissa nodded in understanding. "So, we´ll have to try on the Sorting Hat again?"

"Precisely." Dumbledore chuckled.

Draco cast him a suspicious look. "What about that other boy?"

The headmaster waved his hand impatiently. "Oh, he´ll say nothing. All I have to do is call him up here--"

"Already here, Professor!"

Everyone looked up to see Harry Wannabe leaning casually on the doorframe as soon as he opened the door, crossing his arms over his broad chest--he had the build as if he had been playing Quidditch for a couple of years. Dark eyes flickering between Draco and Melissa, he once again pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You can trust me."

Dumbledore cast him a stern look, clasping his hands behind his back. "Mr. Potter, what have I told you about eavesdropping?"

The boy gave the professor a sheepish look. "Uh. . ."

*~*~*~*~*

"Brittany! Brittany, come quick! Look!" a fifteen-year-old girl cried, brown eyes glimmering with excitement as she hurriedly swept her chestnut brown hair back into a braid, letting it go, the tips brushing against her waist.

Brittany Aston frowned, walking down the steps far slower than one of her two best friends had, stopping once she was in the common room. She placed her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. "What on Earth is all this ruckus about?"

A young man with incredibly messy black hair was tied to one of the plush chairs before the fire, wand nowhere in sight, black eyes smoldering with hatred. "For the love of God, untie me right now you evil she-devil!"

He was looking at the girl standing before him.

She had short, red hair, close-cropped and curly. Her emerald eyes were just as angry as his, and her legs were spread on the ground in a manly way, proving she was indeed the tomboy she looked to be. Sirius´ wand was held in her hand, posed and ready to strike out at him.

"NOW, LILY EVANS!"

She smirked, eyes flashing, and shook her head, exiting through the portrait hole of the common room. No use sticking around here.

"Sirius," Brittany sighed, shaking her head. She wasn´t one for nonsense, which was a slight disadvantage for being friends with the Marauder.

Marauder.

"Mmm. . ." Brittany pressed her lips together into a thin line. Only Dumbledore knew it, but she was able to read minds--or at least, Sirius Black´s mind. She didn´t know why, and Dumbledore and Sirius didn´t either, yet it was vice versa for Sirius, as well. It had happened sometime back in their third year--unknown to Dumbledore, as this was a very well kept secret, Brittany had been chasing Sirius after curfew because he had taken her wand. They had stumbled into the third floor corridor, which was a place for things Dumbledore wanted to keep secret from everyone else. There, there had been some sort of ancient butterfly and Sirius and she had looked it directly in the eyes--stupid enough as that was. And since then, there had been some kind of connection. Of course, when they explained this to Dumbledore, they had left out the part about the corridor, although they had suspicions that Dumbledore knew about it--he knew about everything most of the time, almost as if he, too, could read minds.

Probably could, Sirius sent her. Now would you mind untying me, or do I have let you get close enough so I can manipulate you with my manly charms.

Brittany smirked--Jessica had gone back upstairs, probably studying for something or other. Mr. Black, you have high hopes for things that will never happen.

I´ve chased after you for four years--ever since our second year

. I swear, my sweet Ms. Aston, that there has never been another one for me, he thought in a sugary sweet tone, a guileful smile on his handsome face.

She laughed. You really need to shave--I can see the stubble forming. Gosh, only in your fifth year, and already you have to shave.

Hey!

he protested vehemently, I´m not the only fifteen-year-old in the world who shaves! Honestly, woman, get your facts right!

"Keep talking like that and I´ll leave you there to suffer until the next person comes along--which won´t be for a while, seeing as it´s almost time for dinner."

A smug look crossed his features. Oh, come now, Brittany, I´m not talking--I´m thinking.

She scowled, placing a hand on her hip. "You know what I mean!"

Do I?

"Ugh!" With that, she threw up her hands in disgust, storming out of the room after her best friend.

"HEY!" Sirius cried, tugging weakly on the ropes--normally, this would be simple to get off, but, considering the fact that that hateful Lily Evans had charmed the ropes, simple was a word that he craved for. "LET ME OUT OF THIS!"

Brittany casually lifted her middle finger before she exited the common room.

"Well, that was lovely," Sirius snarled. "HASN´T ANYONE EVER TAUGHT YOU MANNERS!? Hmph!"

*~*~*~*~*

"Is there a reason you´re tied to the chair, Black?" Curious brown eyes peered down at him as a messy black-haired head tilted slightly to the side, hands in pockets.

"Does the word(s) she-devils mean anything to you?"

"Uh. . .Is it supposed to?"

Sirius sighed. "Yes, Potter, it is. Are you completely oblivious?"

"Yes, well, when you ramble on under your breath for half an hour with me standing here watching, it begins to scare me--I don´t have time to wonder what she-devils are, as I´m more concerned about your health."

"Hmph! Evans and Aston."

"Ah."

"Mind introducing us?" a new, cool voice asked.

Both looked up to see a young man, about their age, standing there, hands in pockets, as well, blue eyes flickering in the little light of the common room. It had to be around ten, and as it was, it was snowing outside, meaning only the fireplace was a source of light.

"You two are kind of. . .odd looking together. Are you best friends?" A girl stepped beside the boy, raising an eyebrow.

"Who are you?" Sirius asked, still a bit out of it. His stomach ached--it had to have food. As if on cue, a loud growl rumbled through the room.

"Uh. . ."

James laughed. "I´ll explain later, Black. How bout we get you undone, and you go up to bed? I´ll follow in a minute."

"Okay."

Moments later he was finally free.

And so he proved.

"I´m free, I´m free, I´m free!" Sirius cried, running around the room, arms flapping at his sides. "FREEEEEEE!"

"Oh, Lord, I knew letting him loose would be a sin. . ."

"Shut up, Potter," Sirius sneered, scoffing. "Just because you´re my best friend and like a brother to me--" here, he sniffed "--doesn´t mean you can treat me like that!"

James waved a hand dismissively. "I´ll explain everything in the morning. G´night, Sirius."

He yawned, stretching, shirt lifting to show well-toned muscles, as if he played a sport, maybe Quidditch. "Nighty nighty! Don´t let the bed bugs bite!"

"Are you three?"

"I like to pretend."

"M´kay then. . .Good night, Padfoot."

Again, he yawned. "Nighty nighty, Prongs."

*~*~*~*~*