I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good

[alt_ron]

Pfwuh-

I feel like I've been run down and trampled by an erumpent. Seriously. Just ugh. I can't breathe, and my head feels like I've got tonnes of cotton wool crammed into it. And my arms feel like they're made of soggy bread pudding or summat.

I really don't have time to be ill, y'know?

I guess I should be glad I'm not all bruised like Towler is tonight. Did you hear he talked back to Umbridge in the corridor this morning after breakfast? She told him he hadn't got a leg to stand on and hexed him so he can't keep his feet underneath himself. He's spent all day falling on his arse. Well, you must've seen it at supper, yeah?

Angelina and Katie have been trying to get him to see that he's got to keep his gob shut around Umbridge now, and I think he will. It's just it was the anniversary, y'know, of the Frost Faire, and he was really low yesterday and today, thinking about it. Remembering.

Anywiz. Ugh. I was going to write to Arista Selwyn again tonight, only- yeah. I can't even.

Thanks, you lot, for turning up in the mornings. That's made it almost fun. And Evyls--thanks for nicking us some breakfast. You and Bundy, you're the best.

Comments

[alt_evelyn]

It's no problem at all.

And I'm sorry you haven't been feeling yourself. You really ought to go to Madame Pomfrey. You've been up early all this week, after all, and it'd be even worse to exercise while ill.