Misunderstandation
Disclaimer: Not much to say, but by now you should all realise that I own only the ideas and nothing else.
Chapter 2: Moping and overall insanity
"Good morning, sunshine! And how are you this morning?" an annoyingly bright voice chirps at me, startling me from my fantastically dreamless sleep.
I roll over and whack Sirius in the face, grunting a short, simple but not-so-sweet, "Sod off, Black."
"Fine. Don't have to be such a woman about it."
Chauvinistic idiot. Doesn't he understand that I grumble MORE than Narcissa Black ever could?
After some rare moments of silence, I open one eye slowly, only to meet the blinding sunlight.
"Aaargghgh!!! Bloody crapping hell! What is wrong with you people? Can you not resist keeping the curtains drawn? What does the sign say? DRAW CURTAINS!" I kick thin air for a few minutes after falling off my bed.
More silence. This is getting weird. Awful, in fact.
I open both my eyes this time, staring at the ceiling with what appears to be fascination. Sirius bends down and looks me in the eyes.
"Mate, you sound pretty awake to me. What do you reckon, boys?"
I sit upright, rubbing my sore head and cocking an eyebrow at the rest of the Marauders.
"Yep, wide awake he is, Padfoot!" James says ever-so-intelligently.
Then, of course, there's Peter. Now, who could ever forget Peter? Not me, I assure you. Not even if I wanted to, actually, and I want to do that in leaps and bounds.
"Hahahaah!!! Up, up and away, Remus! Right? RIGHT? RIGHT?" he says, sticking his face right up to mine, watery eyes and all. I swear I can even count the individual hairs in his eyebrows.
"Uh, right, but you know, Pete, could you perhaps give me a little bit of my OWN PERSONAL SPACE BACK?" I bellow at last, unable to tolerate his horrid breath any longer.
Oh Merlin, I need to shower, need to shower, must get rid of stench, please give me my OWN PERSONAL BUBBLE back!
I'm quite touchy about this invasion of personal space thing, in case you haven't realised by now. Anyway, I heave myself to my feet and throw my blankets onto my bed before heading to the bathroom.
In about half an hour, I come out fully dressed and begin packing my bag, ready for the big day ahead.
"Prongs, what's the day today?" I ask, getting Hogwarts: A History off my bookshelf and into my bag hurriedly.
At this, all three friends of mine decide to simultaneously make choking sounds while nervously scratching their heads.
"Honestly? I dunno. How 'bout you, Sirius? Hey?"
Sirius shoots James a look that says you-just-wait-I'll-sodding-MURDER-you-in-your-sleep.
Abruptly, the guy swivels around and looks at Peter, prodding our rat-sized friend in the arm.
"Off you go now, Pete. Can't remember for the life of me what day it is today!"
They may be my friends, but I don't know what the heck is going on.
"Please, just…what day is it?" I repeat, my patience hanging by a thread.
Why do they have that look on their faces? You know, the ones that look like they've been asked a question by McGonagall that they should know the answers to, but don't, because they haven't studied? Those expressions that they only have on Monday mornings…
I stare. And stare. And keep on staring.
"It's Monday."
Right now, I couldn't give a damn if there's silence or not. I will still make my voice heard!
"IT'S BLOODY MONDAY AND NO-ONE THINKS TO TELL ME? ARE YOU ALL BONKERS? NUTCASES? MENTAL CASES? SHALL I CART YOU OFF TO GOOD OL' MUNGO'S NOW?"
Oh Merlin. It's MONDAY.
I rip off my scarlet and gold tie, drop my bag, and begin running circles around our dorm immediately. Meanwhile, my head is ringing with the realisation that it is Monday.
Monday… Monday… Monday… Monday…
"D'you think Moony's going to be alright?" I hear Peter asking worriedly in the distance.
"It'll pass," Sirius answers, a smug grin on his face that I'm just longing to wipe off.
Uncaring git.
James nods wisely, and my three so-called friends sit back and relax, watching me run strenuous laps around the dorm and having little bouts of panic attacks every now and then.
I hate Mondays.
Several hours and incidents later
"Remus, what happened to you? You look like you've been through a thunderstorm, man!" Frank Longbottom asks me, clearly astonished.
I grit my teeth and hold up my tattered and battered shoe, waving it around as I emphasise my words.
"I have NOT been through a thunderstorm, but I wish I had! Merlin, it'd be so much better than it being a Monday today!"
That's right. I have severe Monday-itus. This affliction of mine, as I like to call it, thought to visit me during one of my Sunday nights when I was in first year. It is at this point of my story-telling that I'd like to point out my deficient genes.
Anyway, on with the show!
So, un-literally speaking, has anyone ever had those days, (not Mondays, damnit, don't bring that up now!) where he feels like sitting his great big arse down on a couch and losing himself in a pile of rugs? Anyone? You know, those days where you feel insignificant and just want to lose sight of everybody else in the universe?
I FEEL LIKE THAT NOW. I THINK THE FACT THAT IT IS MONDAY DOES NOT HELP, AT ALL!
After a tragically rainy day, where I have fallen into a puddle of water not once, twice, or even thrice, but seventeen times, lost my Advanced Potions textbook and been poisoned at breakfast, is it any wonder that I'm moping around the Gryffindor common room?
Do you want to know what I'm doing now? Ha. Like I care. Even if you didn't want to know, I'm telling you, because I'm damn depressed at the moment and need to alleviate my fears of Snape-Eyes topping me in Potions. Banish the thought!
Okay. I'm sitting in the couch right next to the fireplace, unsuccessfully trying to suffocate myself with a pile of rugs. God knows where these things have been. My so-called friends are no help whatsoever. Haven't they heard of the phrase, 'Leave a man to die in peace?'
Judging by the infernal din that is Sirius's voice, I guess not.
"Moony, what do you say to a couple of laps around the Quidditch pitch, hey? That'll cheer you up, won't it?" James asks, looking at me in a concerned manner.
What is it with these people? I'm not five, for goodness sake!
I stare back calmly, or dazedly, however you like to think of it.
"No thanks, James. I'm quite happy here."
Sirius decides to intrude on our monotonic conversation.
"Well, why don't we head down to the kitchens? Lots to eat there!" he finishes happily.
Poor bloke. He's so into his food, I'd feel sorry for his future wife, if I wasn't so pathetically sympathising with my inner child at this moment. At this, I snigger abruptly. Hence the odd looks sent my way at the moment.
"What? I'm not interested. I'm quite happy here," I say. After a while, I add, "And, I don't want to be bloody poisoned again!" With this, I shoot Sirius a venomous glare.
He rolls his eyes in response. The nerve of him!
"Mate, it was Veritaserum. All in the name of fun, I swear. Thought you'd need it, what with it being a Monday and all."
I snort with incredulity. I have tons of that. Incredulity, I mean.
"It's my least favourite day of the week, and you guys thought it'd be funny for me to confess my deepest, darkest secrets to the entire Hogwarts population? No thanks, but I'm quite happy here, without running a risk of eating poisoned food again." I conclude, burrowing deeper into my self-made cocoon.
"Is that all you're going to say, Remus? Because, you know, I read somewhere once that people who drown themselves in rugs by the fire are in dire need of psychiatric help. Do you want me to call my psychiatrist, Moony?" Peter asks in what has to be his most serious tone to date. Which, quite honestly, scares the crap out of me.
"No thanks. I'm quite happy here."
You can guess who said that. And where did Wormtail come up with all that mumbo-jumbo business? He sounds weirder than Snape-Eyes when he says that.
With that thought, I leap out of my eternal prison of cloth and accidentally singe my hand on the fire.
"Ah, crap! That HURT!"
James, Sirius and Peter look quite happy at my awesome revival, but their faces immediately revert to their old worried expressions.
I guess it's because it's Monday, and I've suddenly taken to running around the common room, yelling, "Damn you, Snape-Eyes! YOU SHALL NEVER BE MY BETTER, NOT IN POTIONS, NEVEEERRRRR!"
I unabashedly admit that I howled the last syllable in a very werewolf-like fashion. Surprise, surprise.
Sighting my prey, who unfortunately happens to be Frank (poor, poor kid), I place my hands on his shoulders and shake his tiny form.
Needless to say, he passes out soon after.
Have I mentioned just how much I hate Mondays?
Uh, that was just a bit of light-heartedness. And of course, my sad attempt at humour. Hope you liked it. And one must never forget to REVIEW.