D'you know how hard it is to sleep in a pair of ruddy jeans? I mean, the sleeping bags, downright comfortable, but in this awful way I'm half-expecting mine to squeeze the stuffing out of me once I shut my eyes. So, I'm laying here, studying whatever the Hell constellations there are in the sky (Hermione'd say I need to pay more attention to Sinistra, and the stars are oh-so-fascinating, honestly I don't get how it all amuses her) above us in the Great Hall. I can hear Percy going on to the Grey Lady like the pompous git he is, talking about attacks and such.
I tune him out, though. Happy bloody Halloween this has cracked up to be. I mean, those rips in the Fat Lady's portrait is why we're here now. I don't know charms that do that type thing ('charm' seems like such a cheery word, I mean, really, doesn't really strike fear into your heart. Look at the bloody teacher! Flitwick's like, an inch tall, can you see him commiting some horrible crime with a charm?) and besides, if there was some foul charm-gone-wrong that would set those deep slashes into that canvas - Black wouldn't have a wand. I s'pose when you're a convict on run from the wizarding and Muggle worlds that stopping by Ollivander's isn't really an option.
So my best bet is he's got himself some sort of knife, but not like a knife you put your jam on your muffin with, I s'pose, it have to be lots more threatening. I severely doubt one could do so much as break their own skin with a kitchen utensil, though I accidentally bumped into some Slytherin who threatened to rip out my jugular with a dull fork. Though, that's not really one of those memories you call fond.
But really, a mass murderer roaming around your school in the dark with a big, scary knife is not a very fond thought either. So what else happened today? Hogsmeade! That was rather incredible, after growing up hearing about the fantastic place that you didn't have to go with Mum and Dad to. O'course, when I was little, the mere thought of getting away from my parents could keep me smiling for weeks. I wouldn't really mind it, though, if Mum or Dad were here now, I just couldn't bloody stand them standing over me on the swingset. But now I'm confused, was I nutters as a kid or am I too home-dependant now?
Anyway, Hogsmeade. Doesn't matter what Percy says, it is definatly all it's cracked up to be. It stunk loads not having Harry with us, cos he's like Hermione - he sees magick things and gets all excited and shocked and such. Hermione says I take it for granted, honestly. But in this weird way, it was kindof nice being alone with Hermione. I mean, not like that, of course, not like I fancy Hermione. Nope. I don't. And anyway, we didn't say one word about that bloody beast of hers, and the abscense of that excuse for a pet made her so much more bearable.
But Hermione's ... more than bearable in her own way. She's fun, and funny, and wickedly smart, though she rolls her eyes at me quite a bit. And that dreadful cat, and she looks as if she's really gotten absolutely no sleep, and she never shuts up about homework. See, Harry and I talked about her the other night. He thinks she's like his sister (course, he did drop hints of me being his brother. How weird is that? The kid wants siblings! Harry, Hermione and I are one motley family, though) only she's so different than she was.
It's like having a sister who everytime you see her your stomach kindof flip flops in this way, like you've missed a step on a particularly large set of stairs and you miss her during the summer, and she smells real nice like. Only... Harry didn't say any of that, only the sister part. So, in my mind, she's not my sister. She's the good-smelly, flip-floppy, missed girl friend of mine. Only not my girlfriend, but like ---
Harry. Poor bloke, not being allowed to go to Hogsmeade is like, just an inkling of an issue to him. He's famous, right, but he's got no Mum or Dad and those horrid relatives and more issues than a bloke should really have to deal with. Sometimes, I get all jealous, I s'pose, cos while I was battling the twins he was off killing the Dark Lord and getting his name spread about the place when no one really know what it was he did. But then, I dunno. It's just, Harry's not like what you think he'd be like, he's all nice. The bloke had never gotten a hug in first year! And it's kindof good having a hero around. Makes worrying about protection alot easier, let me tell you.
Oh, bugger. I can hear Snape and Dumbledore talking. I'd better fake sleep, but I'll keep my ears tuned for tidbits on what exactly is going on here.
Author's note: er, the ending -- v. bad. My apologies. I wrote a bulk of this last night, but then QuickEdit died, so I couldn't finish it til now. I'm not very good at the whole comedy thing, so ... sorry? Hah. Set at the beginning of the chapter "Grim Defeat" (I think!) in POA, when Sirius attempts entry to Gryffindor Tower while everyone's at the Halloween feast. Inspired by the squashy purple sleeping bags. Claps for Ron/Hermione confusion! Ha, isn't it ab-fab to be thirteen?! Angsty sigh. Hah. Well, off to write some Narcissa. And, for the record, Tyler - Liz isn't bonkers, and I agree with her. 110%.
Review, please?