| potions_master @ 2002-06-17 17:50:00 |
| Current mood: | a bit queasy |
| Current music: | Johannes Brahms: Ein deutsches Requiem Op45 |
Severus Descending
I have to say that I still feel absolutely horrid. The double vision has finally cleared up and I no longer feel like I'm about to regurgitate any vital organs, however this has to be the most wretched that I've ever felt in my life. I do not believe I've felt this bad since the time that Rosier made that vile concoction he christened "trash can punch". This tops even that. Albus is completely unsympathetic, and denied my request for a substitute to take my classes today. On top of injury, he also decreed that I update my journal. I am not pleased.
However I shall try to recount the events of Saturday night, the night that I have dubbed The Big Blur. It started out as pleasantly as can be expected for a school event. Hooch had come up with a brilliant plan to smuggle in the fire whisky stash from Hagrid's secret shed (the one he believes nobody knows about) while Sinistra had cast a bottomless charm on Hooch's hip flask. Since we were rather certain that the night was a complete write-off, we claimed an isolated corner and passed the flask between ourselves. Albus had only said to keep an eye on the students. He never said anything about partaking of the spirits. We broke no rules; Honest, guv.
Just as things were beginning to become rather warm and pleasant, then Mr. Muck About, aka Sirius Black, had to ruin it. He came strutting to our corner (uninvited mind you) wearing those ridiculous pleather trousers and looking ever so arrogant. Then he had the nerve to take *us* to task about behaving in a manner unfitting a Hogwarts teacher. It was the pot calling the kettle black (pardon the pun) if you ask me, he with his dancing on the floor with Lupin like an adolescent in heat. He was running at the mouth and spouting the most infuriating things. He insulted Hooch and Sinistra, he insulted my Versace suit, and then he insulted my parentage (they were married when I was born, thank you very much). I decided to not let him ruin *my* evening; so I thought for once, that I could walk away. I could do something completely uncharacteristic of myself and just walk away.
Even that was to be denied. As I walked past him, the twit couldn't resist sticking his poxy leg out to trip me! And I was going down; there was no way to avoid it. So what to do? Take the longhaired prat with me. I grabbed him as I was falling and pulled him with me.
It turned out that the Weasley twin that accompanied Ginny Weasley spiked the punch with a rather elementary adhesive potion. That was certainly unexpected. I had antidotes to the expected aphrodisiac potions in my inner pockets, but I was completely unprepared for such a sticky potion. Well, apparently Captain Clever had imbibed some of the punch. Which means that when I fell and brought him with me, we ended up stuck together. I was absolutely livid and indignant. How *dare* he presume to lay hands on me? So there we were rolling about on the floor cursing one another into oblivion, it was too ridiculous for words.
I was frantic trying to push him away, and all he wanted to do was grab my wrists. He has quite a considerable amount of weight over me, so unfortunately for me, he overpowered me and managed to pin my wrists above my head. Hooch and Sinistra were no help at all. In fact, I believe they were pointing and laughing. If there's one thing I learned from all this, it's that you can't depend on people who are as inebriated as you.
Then Lupin shows up and gets the completely wrong idea that Black and I were doing the prelude to the horizontal twist. The idea was so ridiculous it was hysterical. Then the potion wore off and Black jumped about six feet away from me. Lupin was flushed and furious. He gave one look of loathing to Black and stormed off somewhere in the typical jilted lover drama. It was so passé - I started laughing, I couldn't help myself. Jealous, Lupin was jealous. As if I would willingly abide Black's company at all, much less an intimate touch from the man. Why, it's preposterous. So I laughed. Black gave me one last contemptuous look before running after his erstwhile partner. It was good riddance, I tell you.
Soon, the hilarity changed into nausea. It hit me that I had been in very intimate contact with Sir Martyr. I decided on the only logical choice of action. Drink heavily. Heavily enough to black out the memory. So, I skulked back to my corner where Sinistra gave me a sympathetic pat on the back. Hooch said nothing, but handed the flask over with no questions asked. We all sat and grimaced.
That's really the last clear memory that I have. I believe I can remember stumbling about outside, a woman's laugh, a fire in the fireplace...and that's really it. I was most unprepared to wake up in a very unfamiliar room the next morning. I stumbled out of the extremely messed up bed to the mirror on the wall. My hair looked as if it had been pulled on, my lips were red and puffy and my lower back muscled ached quite badly.
I can only speculate what happened. I have no recollection whatsoever. Whoever it was, I can only hope that they enjoyed it. I find myself regretful that I was in the middle of a mental black out when this happened as I have this feeling that it was a good time. I am rather certain that Hooch knows more than she's letting on. I'll get it out of her sooner or later.
Now, I have done what I was supposed to do. Will this work for you, Albus?
Comments:
| onourbrooms @ 2002-06-17 05:09 pm UTC |
I have to say that I still feel absolutely horrid. The double vision has finally cleared up and I no longer feel like I'm about to regurgitate any vital organs, however this has to be the most wretched that I've ever felt in my life.
Hooch and Sinistra were no help at all. In fact, I believe they were pointing and laughing.
I am rather certain that Hooch knows more than she's letting on. I'll get it out of her sooner or later.