| arithmantra in nocturne_alley @ 2003-04-28 01:43:00 |
| Current mood: |  cranky |
| Current music: | Henry Pur Spell, if Magic be the Food of Love |
While the rest of Hogwarts was galavanting about exploring new horizons with duct tape, Mr. Malfoy was conspicuously less than punctual for the start of his detentions this afternoon.
Mr. Malfoy, in fact, was not present at all.
Last night I had the great unsung privilege of disposing of the horrendous waste which Mr. Creevey, in his drunken stupor, had made of Professor Black's study. Following which I had the even more trying task of attempting to help clean-up the havoc left in the wake of Mr. Arthur Weasley's run-ins with Professor Lupin's office supplies. It was in fact enough to make me wish I was back in the previous room dealing with a simple case of vomit.
Thereby, having in the meantime unsuccessfully attempted to talk to a supremely plastered Narcissa about her family situation and her son's welfare, I straggled to bed shortly after 7 am for a feverish few hours' worth of sleep, during which I dreamt that I was being chased by a giant bottle of demented chocolate milk. And finally, having awakened this afternoon unkempt and disheveled, I sallied forth to meet Mr. Malfoy for a mandatory appointment which he has apparently decided he is above keeping.
All in all, a less-than-promising start to the week.
I think I have fulfilled my quota of bachelor party attendences for one millennium.
Good night, Hogwarts.
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