no, i can't explain it
"A Matter of Life and Death"
Rating: PG-13 for overenthusiastic sexual references, language, and slashishness.
Pairing(s): Peeves/George; implied Peeves/Riddle, Peeves/Aberforth/goat.
Summary: Two of Hogwarts' tricksters exchange midnight pleasantries and unpleasantries.
Word Count: 1083
Spoilers: Random and subversive.
Characters owned: None.
Notes: Written for scribbulus_ink's challenge; Peeves was included at mctabby's suggestion. First HP fic; rather startled at the result.

You've been warned.

"Peeves! ...the hell? Get out!" Fumbling and tugging at twisted sheets.

"But Georgie, this is the best part of my day."

"You... you do this--watch me--often?"

"Don't flatter yourself, boy. There's that Granger girl... Fred is usually interesting, but you know that. And you should see what ickle Neville can think of--oh my, he's not so itsy now!"

"That's disgusting! Wait. Granger... Hermione? What does she use, a book? Geez."

"Actually, she's very good with a--"

"I didn't truly want to know, thanks."

"That's no fun."

"Wasn't meant to be.

"Spoilsport."

"Pervert."

"I am, you know."

"It was hard to miss, you barging in for peeps."

"I try."



"...Peeves?"

"Yes, little Georgie?"

"You're still here."

"How delightful of you to notice. Don't let me bother you. I believe you were busy before I so rudely interrupted?"

"Sod off."

"Alas, I cannot, and so must take my pleasure where I may find it, behind curtains and walls, watching, watching, but never doing."

"That tragic pose would be a lot more tragic if you weren't halfway through the footboard."

"Mmm. Carry on, please."

"You think I'm some sort of--exhibitionist or... or something?"

"Little Gryffindork's in denial, is he? What d'you call your pranks, all that showing off? You two are nutters about that stuff."

"Pot, meet kettle."

"Touché. Doesn't get you out of it, though. Just means you're in good company!"

"That leer is disturbing."

"It should be. I've been practicing for a few hundred years. But don't change the subject."

"You're not the one being asked to..."

"You're not the one who hasn't for four hundred years."

"You mean... not even...?"

"Nope. Ghosting isn't all it's cut out to be."

"Well, that clinches it. I don't want to die a virgin."

"You are? I'd have thought better of you two."

"Sod off."

"That hurt. Really and truly. Deeply. Angrily. However the Muggle song goes."

"You listen to Muggle songs?"

"I told you I peep on Granger, didn't I? She's rigged something to get that Muggle stuff. Rodeo or something. Filthy stuff, but catchy. And you're getting me off-track. I was going to say that the least you could do to make up for that horribly nasty turn of phrase--which I'm sure was deliberate--would be to let me--"

"You're disgusting. And I say that to everybody."

"Oh? And what would you do if somebody took you up on it? Say... Oliver?"

"Huh? Oliver would never--what's that smirk for? You mean he's...?"

"Why can't you actually say anything? GAY. The word is GAY. And WANK. You do it, you should be able to say it. And no, he's not. I just wanted to see your face. It's red, by the way."

"Now you're just being antagonistic. That's no way to curry favor, you know."

"With Filch, certainly. With you, I have my doubts. Blackmail might be better. I could, oh, drop a word to Fred about whose name you gasped so happily last night..."

"That's cruel."

"And the Ton-Tongue Toffee you slipped to the Muggle wasn't?"

"That's different. He deserved it."

"Everyone deserves a lot more than they get. You're nothing but deluded Gryffindorks, the both of you. You want to be really cruel? Ask Nick why he hovers around the Hall every supper."

"Huh?"

"Do I have to spell out everything? I didn't think you were so dense, Georgie."

"I'm not at my best when a badly-dressed ghost pops up in the middle of my nightly wank."

"Don't let me stop you."

"I'm rather out of the mood at the moment."

"Pity. Maybe I could help?"

"HEY! Bugger off!"

"Oh, fine. The next time I see you in the hall, it won't be your conk I grab."

"Fucking pervert."

"Alas, only a pervert."

"Whatever."



"...Peeves? Since you're still here. What did you mean about Nick?"

"You're a stupid ass, do you know that? But I like 'em curious. Ghosts don't eat. Don't need to, obviously."

"Oh. ...Huh?"

"Never mind, if you're that thick."

"Fine."



"...What's it like, being a ghost?"

"Rather cold."

"Seriously."

"Everyday stuff? Boring. But you're talking about sex and stuff, right? Horny little boy."

"..."

"Like I said, there isn't any. It's like eating. Don't need it, there aren't any... heheh... urges. But we remember."

"So you peep on us because you can't get your own jollies? That's fucked up."

"Never said it wasn't. But oh, the naughties! Zabini's a force in the Slytherin girls' dorms, doncha know."

"You mean Blaise? Blaise is a GUY? Oh, ew."

"Never said that."

"...Can I watch?"

"Can I?"

"NO!"

"It's not like I haven't seen you before, y'know."

"And never again, if I can help it."

"Yeah? And how're you going to do that?"

"I'm sure Hermione can figure out some ghost-blocking charm. And I'm willing to bet she'll be happy to help me spread the word, too."

"NOW you're thinking nasty. I'm so proud! My ickle Gryffindork is growing up."

"Fuck off. What's so great about being cruel, anyway?"

"For one, I could ruin Lord V. if only Dumbiedorf would let me at him."

"Really? How?"

"He was one of my favorites back then--I know what'll get his goat."

"I thought that was Aberforth."

"Huh? Oh. Does everyone know about that?"

"Probably. It's rather memorable, don't you think?"

"Maybe if they knew the whole bit. Bet I could come up with something better now."

"Like what?"

"Hmm... something really memorable... Being caught getting a blowjob from a badly-dressed ghost would be good for starters; shall we try?"

"I think that'd be so memorable I'd need an Obliviate. Or three. Keep away from me."

"Spoilsport."

"Pervert."

"You mean it doesn't interest you in the slightest?"

"All cold and everything? No. And I'd sooner do it with Myrtle than you. Or the Baron."

"I take my cap off to you, young sir. I hadn't thought anybody could make me ick anymore."

"Good. Nice to know I'm not losing my touch. Now get out, I need sleep."

"Hmph. That's no way to talk to someone hovering six inches above your Snitches. Fine, I'll leave--singing all the way."

"Peeves! No, I--"

"A young Gryffindor nightly a-wanking
Was thinking of naughty sex-spanking
When he came with a shout
And jerked all about
Ending up with a thump on the planking!"

"Aw, fuck, not so loud..."

"Bye-bye, ickle Gryffindork! See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow...? Fuck. Oh, hullo Fred."

"George, what the hell was Peeves doing in your bed?"

"Umm..."