Work Text:
It was Binn's fault. If the ghost of a professor hadn't been such a transparent bore, Sirius wouldn't have skived off Thursday's class to go for a fly that sunny afternoon. He wouldn't have walked down to the broom shed, passing the seventh year Ravenclaws enjoying their free period sunning on the lawn. Nor would have stopped to watch the beautiful, exotic, and older Mademoiselle Hermione Durand throw back her head in laughter, making her brown curls bounce and jostle around her face. She had transferred to Hogwarts her seventh year to sit for the British NEWTS. For some reason, she didn't like him. Sirius had approached her once in the library, and she had sent a gust of wind that blasted him out of her section. From then on she had put up a notice-me-not so strong he rarely saw her. But not today. Today, he could see her.
Then she took out a banana.
Hermione's long, pretty fingers with the subtle pink nail polish that Beauxbatons girls favoured, grasped the fruit. The other hand moved to the tip where one finger rubbed back and forth as she talked with her friends. That finger mesmerized Sirius. Back and forth. Back and forth. Like a metronome. He heard a whimper and realized it came from him. Hermione curled a finger around the tip of the fruit. Merlin's wastebasket, she squeezed it testing for ripeness. Sirius bit the inside of his cheek. He had stopped walking because his trousers were too tight. She pinched the tip in between her thumb and forefinger, grasped the shaft, and broke off the end. She pulled the skin down. Sirius held his breath waiting for her to bring the banana to her lips.
Her lips parted, ready to take a bite when her tongue darted out and licked the tip.
Sirius's vision went white. He waddled away as rapidly as an erection stiff as a broomstick would let him, hoping no one was in the broom shed so he could have the wank of his life. When he was done, he promised himself he would find a way to attract her attention.
Friday night in the Gryffindor boy's dorm necessitated a FriYay! party. Under the cover of his cloak, James slipped into the Honeyduke's passage to gather some of the bottles of butterbeer the Marauders stashed there.
Peter, with his tie around his head, started the dialog on the beauty of the female form, or 'Which witch has the best body?'
"Lily," said James to no one's surprise.
"Julianna Abbott," blushed Peter.
"I don't think this is respect-" the collective groan of his fellow Marauders silenced Remus's witch's rights diatribe.
James pointed at him with his bottle, "Come on, Moony, surely there's one girl that makes you want to howl at the moon."
The red went to the tips of Remus' ears. "I-um-well-fine-Hermione Durand."
The boys let out a collective whoop, even the monogamous James joined in.
"She smells like chocolate."
"No, the dress. The silk, it ripples like water," said Peter.
"And the heels," added James.
"No, you're both wrong; it's the seams of those stockings running up the back of those legs. Godric, I would lick those seams if I could," whined Sirius. He fell back on the bed with a thump and the room spun a little.
"Sirius, you would lick your own balls if you could," said James.
"True. Did I tell you guys about the banana?" Sirius struggled to sit back up. He had to tell them about the glory he had seen yesterday. He described what he had seen in a solemn tone as if it was a great act of magic. Then he stood because, by the gods, she deserved a toast. He wobbled then summoned the disillusioned bottle of firewhisky hidden behind his headboard. "Fello Marauders, please be upstanding for Madamoiselle Durand."
He drank then shared the bottle around. One shot became two, two became four, and before they knew it, they were talking about which fruits were the most erotic and how a fifth-year could use them capture the interest of a very picky seventh-year witch.
It should be noted that people make bad decisions when they are drunk. There are drunk apparition laws for a reason. However, there are no laws to prevent young wizards with wands from doing very foolish things to themselves, especially when they have been mixing butterbeer, fire whiskey, and braggadocio.
Sirius woke up Saturday morning with a mouth coated in hippogriff down and a head full of dancing Cornish pixies. He stumbled to the bathroom, ready to take a piss to end all pisses. He pulled down his pants and pulled out a banana.
Where a cock once proudly jutted, he now had a yellow banana dangling slightly to the left. Screaming, he lost his balance and fell on his arse, banana still in hand.
Peter ran in to investigate the noise. He rubbed his eyes, looked, then rubbed them again. "Pads, what happened to your knob?"
Sirius let out a groan.
Remus stuck his head around the door, "You all right, mate?"
"No, I have a fucking piece of fruit between my legs, and I've never needed to take a piss more than RIGHT THIS MOMENT. How in Merlin's bloody not fruited bollocks am I going to piss out of a banana?"
"Well, you could peel it," said Peter.
Sirius turned a jaundiced eye towards the smallest Marauder. "Wormy, just take a moment to think about it. I would have to break the tip of this off when it is still attached to me. Then pull back the peel of the banana that is once again ATTACHED TO ME."
"I-I well um yes, I guess..."
"That is the worst idea ever? Yes, you're right."
They spent the next hour trying to reverse the enchantment. From the bits of parchment covered in an illegible scrawl, they had combined transfiguration, charms, runes, and a great deal of poppycock to refocus the Animagus mediation to reveal their inner fruit. Or in Peter's case, vegetable, as a rather limp piece of celery now drooped between his legs. Nothing they tried reversed the transfiguration. All the noise finally woke James, who sprang out of bed with a yelp when one of the spines of the pineapple hanging between his legs poked him.
"What? Lily likes pineapples."
Remus, the only unfruited Marauder, just shook his head.
Sirius's bladder was ready to burst. When he could stand it no more, he ran into the loo, broke open the tip of the banana, and pulled back a piece of peel. It didn't hurt, but it felt odd. As he stood over the toilet pissing out of a banana, he had to wonder at the sheer fucking audacity of magic.
It had been thirty-four hours since most of the Marauders had transfigured their todgers. And they had tried everything. It was worse than the week James had transfigured his feet into hooves during their Animagi exploration. As the hours passed and the weekend drew to a close, their panic reached a fever pitch.
None of them wanted to approach Professor McGonagall, and when Remus suggested it Sunday morning, the other three boys rallied against him. By noon, Peter begged to go her. By 2 PM, James, who had drilled into his pineapple to relieve himself, joined Remus and Peter. Finally, at 7 PM, Remus's promise to do all the talking brought Sirus around.
They spent another half-hour arguing if Remus should fetch Professor McGonagall or if they could walk to her office. Sirius was concerned with the state of his peel, or even worse, breaking off a piece, and James had to waddle like a rather bowlegged duck. None of them could wear trousers - James's pineapple did not fit, and Peter's stalk did, but the leaves tickled his leg. In the end, they all just wore robes and walked very slowly to Professor McGonagall's office.
Their Head of House surveyed them with the pinched look she wore only when they had done something egregiously stupid.
After Remus explained the transfiguration oneupsmanship gone wrong, leaving out the bit about drinking in the dorms. They were stupid little gobshites, but no need to get detention as well.
With an exasperated huff, she announced, "Open your robes."
James blanched, and Sirius bleated, "Seriously?"
"Seriously, Mr Black."
"But Professor, surely we should go to the Infirmary and see Madame Pomfrey?"
She clucked her tongue. "If this was a normal spell gone awry, yes. But anything that involves you four is abnormal. I expect you have already tried everything she would have. She is not a Master of Transfiguration. I am. Open your robes. Now." She surveyed the boys with a raised brow. "Excellent transfiguration. If you had done it in my classroom and on any other body part, I would be giving you points for your work. Did you try Maglov's Regressive Theorem?"
They looked to Remus. "Yes, professor," he said.
She pursed her lips to the side, "Delang's Reversal Incantation?"
Remus answered again, "Yes, professor."
An irritated huff, "Tookey's Multi-thread Unwinding?"
"Yes, professor."
"Both forward and back?
"And up and down," said Sirus.
"Mr. Black, now it not the time for levity." She tapped her wand against her palm. "Fascinating." Then, holding her wand aloft, she drew a series of curls and whorls.
Nothing happened.
Her eyebrows shot up. "That should've worked..." She pushed up her robe sleeves then knelt swirling her wand on the floor counter-clockwise. "INFECTUM REDDO."
Their bits tingled, but the spell did not rescind the transfiguration.
For an hour, they stood in her office, robes open, avoiding any eye contact with her or each other, with nothing to show for it. The Scottish professor had worked herself into the lather, face thunderous, and she was muttering under her breath. She swished her wand seven times and cast, "UNUM." Nothing was undone.
She stalked over to her chair and sat down heavily. "Well, boys, you've truly stumped me, I canno' figure out how to undo this. Lucky for you the foremost transfiguration master in Europe is your headmaster. Cover yerselves. We're going to Professor Dumbledore."
Dumbledore sat behind his desk with his fingers steepled. Sirius guessed that he was hiding a smile as his eyes were twinkling with mirth. He asked similar questions to those of Professor McGonagall. He nodded at her answers then stroked Fawkes.
"Had you thought of a Pythagoras Purification?"
McGonagall's eyes shot open. "No, but we would need another witch and wizard that could hold the spell."
"You and I, Professor Flitwick and Professor Vector. No - Hypatia is away. Perhaps we could ask Mademoiselle Durand? You said yourself she could easily do a Master's work."
She eyed the boys as they squirmed. "Yes, Headmaster. I think Madamoiselle Durand would love the opportunity."
The professors and Hermione Durand stood at the points of the pentagram with Sirus at the peak. It looked like a circle until Dumbledore flicked his wand and the vertices and curves between them illuminated. Sirius's eyes darted around the group until his gaze rested on Hermione. She smiled and arched one perfect eyebrow as if to say 'Really?' He looked away and felt his cheeks heat. She had not laughed when she found out what they had done. There was no coming back from this; she already disliked him, and now she would think him a fool.
The low buzz of magic preceded the deluge of power that doused him. Sirius felt the transfiguration loosen and then break. The rub of his cock and balls, though comforting, followed by the realization he was standing in front of three professors and one very pretty girl, naked. The stuff of nightmares. Remus threw his robes over his shoulders and slid a piece of chocolate into his hand.
When James stood at the top of the pentagram, he panicked and begged that it never get back to Lily, promising anything to ensure it. The look exchanged between McGonagall and Dumbledore indicated their relief they had finally found something to bring him to heel.
Peter, red since they'd entered McGonagall's office, turned the shade of steamed lobster as his transfiguration broke.
James and Peter had dashed from the room when the ritual was done. Remus, ever the swot, hung back to ask Professor Flitwick and Dumbledore questions. Hermione stayed to talk with Professor McGonagall. She had just turned to leave when Sirius sidled up to the girl. He had nothing to lose.
"I wanted to thank you for all that you did."
"Well, I don't know that I was pleased giving up my Sunday evening, but being part of this ritual was fascinating."
He wanted to ask her why she avoided him and his friends. He wanted to ask if there was any way he had a shot with her. Or if he had well and truly blown his chance. He looked at her expression. She was frowning. He looked down and away, it was over before it even began.
Her voice floated over him, "From now on, Sirius, careful what you do with your wand, yeah?"
He looked up to a smile of pearly white teeth and sparkling eyes.
Then she winked.
Oh, it is on. "Oh, yes, Mademoiselle Durand, I'll be very careful with my wand. I wouldn't want to disappoint you."
Monday morning, Sirius walked into the Great Hall considering the previous forty-eight hours. Mostly, he wasn't sure what his sudden and overwhelming craving for bananas said about him. He almost bumped into Hermoine.
She looked him up and down, "Mr. Black is that a banana in your pocket? Or have you been playing with your wand again?"
Flashing his best smile, he said, "No, Mademoiselle Durand, I'm just happy to see you."