(no subject)
Bloody hell was this a weekend to forget. Firstly, missed the school's Hogsmeade visit--me mum sent me a last-minute owl and I had to run to St. Mungo's to see dear old Dad, who somehow managed to hex himself stupid for a few hours while fixing the plumbing. Not entirely sure how he did it or what he was trying to do, but the poor man thought he was a tap. Damndest thing, but he made a full recovery. So by the time I get back, all the work I was supposed to do in the shop is still there (quite a reasonable amount spread over a weekend, quite unreasonable to try and accomplish on a Sunday afternoon). Not to mention it's bloody cold outside and I didn't get my good scarf until today. Add this to the fact that there is almost no way I'll be going to the ball (no hard feelings though, Seamus needs it way more than I do), and I'm in a very strange mood indeed.
Fred and Seamus: If I can't get a date to the ball, is there any way I could get in on your chocolate-and-"butterbeer" outing? If I forget there's even a ball in the first place, I won't be able to regret not going. Bloody parents. Bloody weather. Bloody women.
Bollocks.
Fred and Seamus: If I can't get a date to the ball, is there any way I could get in on your chocolate-and-"butterbeer" outing? If I forget there's even a ball in the first place, I won't be able to regret not going. Bloody parents. Bloody weather. Bloody women.
Bollocks.