Disclaimer: Standard bit. I own nothing.
Blaise was in hell. There was no other real explanation for his current situation. He'd died and gone straight to hell. It'd explain the pain in his head, the bad taste in his mouth, and what felt like a mix between vomit and drool on his chest.
He had no desire to open his eyes. None at all. Especially considering he'd been woken by the bloody fucking singing and daylight. He really despised his flatmate at times.
The pounding in his head seemed to be getting worse as the singing progressed. He winced as a particularly high key was invented. He was going to go to Azkaban for murder, just as soon as he retrieved his wand, found the flamboyant git, and made the room stop spinning from where he was lying.
Testing his courage, he decided to risk opening his eyes, if only for a microsecond, to glance at the damage. He got as far as moving his eyelids before breaking out into vile rants, most of them against any deity having to do with light.
Preparing himself again, he held a pillow in front of his face to block any light. Slowly, he pushed his lids up again. With an incredible force of will, he managed to get them completely open. His reaction to this success, however, was less than pleasant.
"Bloody fuck-all sun!"
He smothered his face with his pillow. This really can't get any worse, he thought as a wave of nausea hit.
Naturally, he was wrong.
"Hello, Blaise!" chirped the Flatmate From Hell. A flash of blue light and a hole appeared in the wall next to her head. Naturally, the woman didn't so much as flinch. "You missed!" Daphne Greengrass remarked perkily.
"Damittall, Daph, get me some Hangover Cure, some water, or a bloody Muggle gun!" He groaned as he felt some of yesterday's meals creep up.
She sat on the bed beside him. "I can understand the first two, but why a gun?"
"To shoot you with since you won't do what I asked!" He set his wand down and struggled to sit up. He was firmly pushed back down.
"Don't even think it, 'Bini. You're not getting up today. I already Floo-ed in and told them. Your boss was really understanding." Daphne pursed her lips. "Frighteningly so. I think Creevey has a bit of a crush on you."
Blaise promptly turned over, expelled what was left of his previous meals, and moaned.
Daphne shrugged as she conjured a cloth and started wiping his mouth. "Can't blame you there for losing your stomach. I mean, really, can you just imagine kissing that little…" She was interrupted by another moan. "Apparently so. And do stop vomiting on my shoes. They're new."