Chapter X: Snot Dancing Flamingos

"But love – "

"NO! Don't call me love! And get off me!"

"Come on now, don't be like that – "

"Stop talking!"

Potter has surprisingly large arms. I'm nearly suffocating between him and Remus, and Peter on the other side. But, what can I say? The show in front of is particularly amusing. In the sense that it's actually not.

"It's interesting," Potter comments with idle interest, leaning into my ear. "He's never been into a girl for much longer than an hour."

"Don't touch me!"

"He's never been interested in a girl for much longer than a shower," Remus joins in, leaning in too, his fist bunched under his chin and his lips pursed in thought. "And he's apologizing. After all these years, Padfoot still surprises me."

"Listen, let me explain – "

"You guys have any food?" They are all so calm, you'd think their best friend so wasn't dangerously close to being castrated. Even Remus isn't all that bothered, who doesn't so much roll his eyes at Peter's question.

"Okay, explain! Please, I'm all fucking ears!"

"Wow, okay I – er – I didn't actually expect you to listen. I just thought you'd yell and I'd try to get a word in."

"Black – "

"Okay – I just – well, I got off with you and – "

"So I am just another one of your conquests!"

Her voice has gone so shrill I'm surprised it's still within the human ear's hearing range. She stares, chest heaving at Black, who's so pathetic looking right now I feel sort of sorry for him. A pillow goes flying towards his head (her ammunation's gotten softer – I suppose it has something to do with all the snogging), and he cranes his neck, easily dodging it and continues walking toward her as she backs away.

"Look, I didn't mean that – " Black stammers, "I just – it's just –"

"You what?" She practically bellows, sending spit flying everywhere. "You what, exactly? Pray tell exactly what you meant!"

"It's just a word, love." He sighs, grimacing tightly. "I didn't mean – y'know – I – I mean, you're not, y'know – " He attempts to complete his sentence with wild gesticulation of his limbs, and still fails miserably and sort of stands there looking like a demented octopus.

Her eyes follow the maddening movements of his hands until –

"Stop."

She suddenly deflates, and it's like watching a balloon pop. "Just stop. Please." She flops down onto the couch right adjacent to the one we've all managed to squish into. We, of course, move back several inches instinctively to avoid all possible bodily harm she may inflict on mere innocent bystanders such as ourselves.

"Let's just forget it ever happened," she blurts, pinching the bridge of her nose. "A moment's lapse in my fucking judgment, alright?"

A beat. Something shines behind Black's eyes that I can't put a finger on before his expression turns stone cold. "Okay. Fine."

"Fine," she repeats.

"Fine."

"FINE."

After a moment's pause, they both stalk off towards their respective dormitories.

"Bloody hell," Remus breathes, staring at the door Black's just slammed behind himself, "Guys, I think she hurt his feelings."

"Blimey," James agrees. I do my part by gaping dumbly. Peter does his part by offering us all chocolate.

-x-x-x-

I'm in what one might very well call a predicament.

"Miiina?"

"Ffnghfhgfd."

This is how we communicate now.

"Mina?" I repeat, louder this time, shoving her shoulder a little. Immediately her arm comes flying out of nowhere and collides swiftly with my face. Merlin, she's even violent in her sleep. She rolls to her side, and smacks her lips for a while, smiling contentedly. She's enjoying this, and she's not even awake.

Why can't my friends be normal, at the very least when they're unconscious?

I've got to say, she looks very odd in the morning with her hair flopping everywhere. Much like a startled earwig in jammies. Hm. It appears that my thoughts have progressed to become even more incoherent.

Well. Brilliant.

I pull out a mangled flamingo from underneath my butt. Yes, a flamingo. She's practically draped in them. Yes, as in plural flamingos.

Honestly, how many stuffed flamingos can one person actually collect?

I begin to fear for my life. I haven't exactly recovered from the mental trauma I received that time I woke her up by tapping her on the shoulder and she hexed me to the other side of the room with tentacles coming out of my ears. She claimed she thought I was a burglar trying to strangle her.

Sometimes I still have nightmares.

"ARSEHOLE!" she suddenly yells, waving her arms about and rolling over violently. I duck and cover, naturally, using the flamingos as shields. I peek from beneath her duvet, and yes, she's still sleeping. Oh, also – have I forgotten to mention? She sleepwalks. And talks. And hits. And does about everything she does when she's awake.

…Why am I friends with these people?

Oh, and, she snores. Not all the time, but it's still an occurrence. I wonder what 'Sex God' Black would do if he found out his love-eeely snored. It's like comedy snoring except I'm not laughing.

I should tell James so his stupid gossiping mouth can spread it all around the castle and I can have my tentacly revenge on Mina.

Uh. I mean, I should tell Potter.

Potter.

Not James.

Yes.

No Potter. No, to Potter. I am a free lady. And shall forever stay that way. A firm 'No' to tying myself down. Never, and also NO. Yes. No. Wait. No. Yes. Precisely. That woman, Emily Planktonwhatsits chained herself to a policeman and chucked herself under a horse and so on so that I could vote. I must not let her down.

Although it does seem slightly loony to chuck yourself in front of a horse so that you get to vote.

Especially as, if I recall correctly, she was dead, so she couldn't vote anyway.

Neither can I.

Oh, the unfairness of this world.

On the other foot, Mina is still sleeping. I hear the beginnings of an incoming snore-fest. She must be stopped. Snore-fest must be averted at all costs. I must take one for the team. I must risk being physically mauled in order to save my hearing from being mauled.

Though I suppose my body and my hearing are all on the same team.

Whatever.

"MINA!" I bellow straight into her ear, then barricade myself with the duvet, taking several scooches back on the bed so that I am out of her immediate arms-length. My head collides with the head-board… foot-board at the end of the bed. That's nice.

Still not awake. Not even a grunt.

I could honestly traipse in here with a marching band, giant balloons, shooting cannons into the air, and she still would be sleeping. I could throw a giant penguin at her, and she'd still happy doze on.

That would be weird, though.

Maybe I should just put a pillow over her head and put myself out of my misery.

Okay, I just considered murdering my best friend. I've got to wake her before I do something stupid.

Besides, if I killed her, I'd be all alone in the world. No one to share my idiotic ramblings with. Except her bloody flamingoes, and they're not particularly good company.

Alright, that was slightly strange. I just had Potter's voice in my head. His stupid voice, in my stupid head. His voice said, "Ah, I'd keep you company, Lily." And then it proceeded to do a rude eyebrow wiggle, which makes me think he's not thinking of the kind of company that I'm thinking of.

Also, how voices can do the eyebrow-wiggle is beyond me.

He's even rude when I make him up in my head. That is very rude. To come gallivanting into my head, uninvited and making me think of rude things. Rude, indeed. Rudey-dudey in absentia, as we say in Latin.

I wish my brain had an off switch.

I was under the impression that my head, at least, was a Potter-the-toerag-free zone. Now I have his stupid voice in my head. Damn those immigrants.

I need to get out more. Seriously.

Mina suddenly grabs something off her nightstand – no wait, it's a hairbrush – and flings it at me. If I hadn't used my extremely well toned – ahem – reflexes, I could have been quite badly injured by that hairbrush. Then again, she could have grabbed the lamp instead, and then I'd be in real trouble.

I look at her still sleeping form, oblivious to all that I am doing to wake her, and I feel my marbles rolling away from me. I can feel sense physically leaving my brain cells. Merlin help me I am so close to spazzing out and smothering her with her stuffed flamingos.

But I don't. Because suddenly, a genius idea pops into my genius brain.

"FIRE!"

I'm shouting, grabbing a handful of her flamingos and flinging them at her face. "FIRE, MINA, FIRE! THERE'S A FIRE! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! GET OUT OF THE BUILDING!"

Her eyes flutter. "Hgfhnh?"

I shoot up from the bed and start running around like a mad cow now. "FIRE!" I repeat, waving my arms around. "FIRE, FIRE! IT BURNS, OH IT BURNS!"

"Oh," she says, or something that vaguely sounds like it. Obviously she's not grasping the gravity and seriousness of the situation of a faux-fire. She's conscious for less than a second before she slumps back into her pillow like a dead fish, and the room fills with a fantastic snore.

Classic.

I groan, and in the process of raising my eyes to the heavens to question whatever higher power may exist on why they sent me such an utterly batshit best friend, my eye hesitates on the mirror and I catch a glimpse of my reflection.

Why is my hair sticking up like a cockerel?

0 for 2, God.

0 for bloody 2.

-x-x-x-

Chomp.

I must have toast to calm down and stop myself from looking at everyone and demanding an answer as to why they are staring weirdly at my hair.

Which I'm quite sure they are.

I'm having a bad hair day. No, no, no, that is the understatements of all understatements. I'm having a catastrophic hair day. A war is being waged on the top of my head. Cannons are exploding, bodies are falling to the ground, blood is splashing around – which is funny, if you're into irony. Red hair, blood. Ha-bloody-ha-ha.

I had to practically give myself a magic face-lift in the morning. After I caught sight of my terrible hair, of course, something had to be done. I fixed everything up, except my nose, which has taken on smushing across my entire face through the night as I slept facedown. It's flat like a plate, all across my head. I'm disguising it with a very inconspicuous hat.

Thank heavens it's Saturday. I only have to pretend to be normal for an hour at breakfast and then I can retreat into my bed and never leave.

Tessa is across from me, munching away at her bacon and humming a god-awful Cauldron's song under her breath. My eyes drift over to the other side of the table, noticing Potter, Black, Peter and Remus eating away at their breakfast merrily. Everyone is merry but me. I started the day by getting attacked by a sleeping maniac.

"Spedoinkel!" Black murmurs, astonished, staring at the enormous bubble-gum bubble he's blowing two inches from his face.

Peter's mouth is large with awe. "It's so…huge…"

Potter cracks into a giggle he suppresses against his fist, no doubt at some vulgar thought. Remus looks on with an unaffected expression, choosing to continue spreading butter on his toast instead.

I'm willing for the bubble to explode in his face. It would be terribly amusing. Perhaps I can focus and make it explode. I saw some bloke on the telly with a shiny shirt saying that we could all tap into our clairvoyant side if we just concentrated.

Alright. Here I go.

I'm tapping.

I'm tapping.

Brilliant. I'm crosseyed, now. Thank you, old geezer on TV. I knew he was lying with all that clairvoyant pish po –

Ah.

This, god chooses to give me.

Black's gum explodes all over his nose, earning laughter from the surrounding students and a surprised yelp and fall from Peter, bringing down half the breakfast setting along with. I must admit this is quite amusing. The idiot now has a big blob of pinky goo hanging off his nose like a huge bogey and Peter is stuck underneath the table with jam in his hair.

Black prods the gum experimentally with his wand as Potter doubles over in laughter. "Look how it dangles about," he muses, sounding genuinely impressed. "I bet I can swing round and round in time to some music. Like snot disco."

"You lot!" He jabs a finger violently at his friends, "Sing something jolly, and I'll improvise on my bogey work."

"Move over."

Oh no. The Beast has arrived.

Mina plops herself down next to me, unleashing a long-suffering sigh and dropping her head into her hands. I didn't even notice her entering the hall. The bogey show must have been quite distracting. "Toast," she orders at no one in particular, feeling her way around the table blindly. I nudge one directly into the path of her wondering hand because I am a good friend.

"Good morning," I remark dryly, nudging her when I feel like she's had enough of her toast to not decapitate me in a fit of sleepless rage. "How'd you manage to find your way out of your flamingo fortress?"

Her head rolls on her shoulder to give me a death stare. "Don't think I don't rememb – "

" – The snot dance! Swing your snot to the left, swing it to the right, dangle to the left, and jump to the right – "

Her eyes snap toward the general direction of Black, and she looks like she's about to hurl, holding two fingers against her lips and gagging. Composing herself, she grabs a knife – during which time I fear for my life – and begins to butter her toast.

" – Nod to the front, dangle, dangle, and full snot around, shimmy to the ground – Peter, I said shimmy, not fall on your arse –"

I feel sorry for Mina's toast. It's being stabbed and buttered with such unadulterated rage that you can actually hear it screaming for help. Something must be said. Since I am a good friend. And talking is what good friends do at times like this. When one's potential boyfriend or ex-snog-partner is ignoring said person and doing a bleeding snot-dance and one is instead stabbing poor defenseless pastries.

"Mina."

"Sh."

"Mina."

"Honestly, I'm not in the mood."

" – WORMTAIL YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG! IT'S DANGLE, THEN FULL SNOT AROUND! PAY ATTENTION, FOR THE LOVE OF – "

She looks over then, giving the toast temporary relief from its disembowelment, and glares at Black with such intensity I can practically see his hair smoking. He's oblivious of course, swinging his face around and singing at the top of his lungs about bogeys and Peter's idiocy, while Potter bangs his head to the rhythm and Remus orchestrates the whole ordeal with his spoon.

"Silly," Mina mutters darkly, and I can hear a vague growling coming from deep in her throat. "Stupid and moronic, that's what they are."

Funny, really, coming from someone who practically snogs flamingos in their sleep.

She turns her attention to the lone sausage sitting in her plate and I attempt to get a word before she impales it on her fork. "Hey – "

But the rest of my very consoling speech is drowned out by a hysterical banshee cry coming from our left, particularly from the mouth of one, Sirius Black.

"ARGH!" He screams girlishly, tugging at the bubble gum that's now spread across his entire face and running around in circles, sending bystanders hurling to the ground "PRETEND BOGEY IN MY EYE! MEDIC! MEDIC! HELP!"

He proceeds to flop onto his back and faint, the idiot.

At the sudden staged performance, laughter and applause breaks out in tiny flitters around the room, some of the Slytherins secretly snickering behind their hands, while a few Head Boys and Girls break into grins. It progresses until it reaches a crescendo, Black's anitcs leaving the entire student body doubled over and in tears of mirth.

"QUIET!"

Like someone's flipped shut a booming radio, the room falls into a deafening silence. Save for clicking heels. McGonagall bustles over, nose in the air and lips pursed, her brow furrowed so deep I doubt it'll retain its original shape. Black's probably caused most of her wrinkles, anyway.

"Black!" she shrieks, towering over his head and nudging him with her shoe, repulsed. "Get up, get up!"

He finally 'comes to' after much yelling and nudging and threats of point deduction. He looks up, smiling dazedly through his bubble gum infested face. "Wha – where am I? Am I in heaven? Are you Gabriel?"

Good grief. There go twenty points.

"No," she snaps, "But I do urge you to consider how heavenly four months of detention will be."

Black makes a quite startling recovery, after that.

"Oh, that won't be necessary, Minnie – er – I mean – Professor McGonagall, m'am – madam – my lady – your highness – your most splendiferous excellency – I feel much better after my little rest."

McGonagall glares at him for a final ten seconds and Black stands there looking like a sheep before she spins on her heel and marches away, students jumping out of the way to avoid her wrath, Black crumbling into the seat between Potter and Peter like a girl.

He walks around the rest of the day with pink goo attached to his face and singing the most requested sections of The Snot Dance, staying carefully out of the earshot of McGonagall.