potterstinks: No subject.

On Friday Millicent arrived for tea, along with her trunk and some sort of tent. Rather than having tea like a civilised human being, she's set up a tent on my bedroom floor and is now sharing my bed. In case no one had gathered as much based upon appearance alone, Millicent hogs the covers.

From now on, I'll be sleeping on one of the dining room tables. My pillow, of course, shall likely be a turned over bowl, and I suppose I'll have to weld some forks together for covers. Either that, or I'll just continue sharing a bed with Millicent. Perhaps I can move into the tent. I'd considered Spellotaping her to the headboard in her sleep to see how she likes it, but I decided that I'm above petty revenge. Also, I didn't have any Spellotape.

The great source of Millicent's troubles, for anyone who didn't know, is that her parents really had their hearts set on a girl, and though Millicent didn't quite fit the mould, they insist on dressing her in pink, violet, pinafores, lace and odd little bows during the holidays. It's all rather glorious, but then, I suppose Millicent's utter lack of a sense of humour carries through onto fashion.

I imagine Pansy will eventually grow tired of her own mother and come set up a tent in my foyer, and I'll have to have a new wing added onto this part of the Manor. Then perhaps Crabbe can come because he feels left out, and I'll have to move into the hedge maze and live in the wild. I will, of course, grow feral and savage, and I'll become some sort of bandit. I won't have any tents to stay in, because everyone else will have taken the entire world's stock of tents and put them in my real home by then, so I'll have to build makeshift homes using only my wits and a hat. Lazarus Goldrush will write the book.