This is a draft snippet from Chapter 8 of AWTEW (co-authored with @merlinsbbeard) but I should be asleep in bed and not writing so, ya know, proceed with caution.
When they arrived at the entrance to the common room, however, they found it blocked by the backs of four snickering boys and two head-shaking ghosts, Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar, transparent bodies flickering in the torchlight, through which they could see a very cross-looking Vicky, whose stubby fingers were fisted in her hair, knuckles turning yellowish.
“Now you listen here,” pomped Nearly Headless Nick, wagging a finger over the heads of everyone else, the motion sending his head into a dangerous wobble. “These students have an important examination tomorrow morning. You simply must open up!”
Lily, Emmeline and Marlene made it up the last of the steps, hurrying the short way down the corridor, squeezing into the clutter of people (Lily taking care to choose a gap a safe distance away from James, though not failing to chance a glance at him) and coming face-to-face with a heavily intoxicated Fat Lady. Pink silk sleep creased, small eyes bleary, expression terribly indignant. She had her arms folded tight across her dense breast and was turned resolutely, if a little wobbly, so she faced out the side of her frame, rather than at the ring of people before her, especially avoiding the short girl steaming like a brazen bull.
“WILL YOU JUST LET US IN?” Vicky shouted, punctuating each word with a heavy smack to the oiled canvas.
“What’s going on?” Emmeline asked the group at large, eyes trained on the face of the Fat Lady, which was turning steadily puce as she tried to ignore the physical assault.
“She’s plastered,” Peter replied. “Dunno what Vicky did but she’s got her wand in a proper knot and now—”
SNAP. “Ouch!”
“—she won’t let us in.”
“But she can’t do that,” said a frowning Lily as Vicky wailed.
“LET GO, LET GO” Vicky shrieked at the Fat Lady who had popped open then snapped shut again as the girl tried to pry back the frame, successfully trapping her fingertips and the point of her wand behind the gilded wood.
The ghosts gasped. Sirius barked a laugh. Around them, portraits stirred.
