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| Time: | 9:29 pm. |
| Mood: |  calm. |
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Haven't done this in a while. I'll give it a go.
This morning I woke up to find Mr. Muth's daughter on top of me. I was a bit confused at first, and disoriented (it was a rather different position for me, after all), but that was only until the horror set in. She woke up and greeted me jolly morning, and I bid her good day as I hurriedly put some clothes on before anybody walked in and got the VERY wrong idea, VERY WRONG INDEED. Seems she'd just laundered her sheets and thought, ho, she'd share mine! Why doesn't she wash the covers at a decent hour, like when I'm not in bed, I ask you. Merlin knows we all need as much sleep as we can get around here.
It's not as horrible as I may make it out to be. Mr. Muth's all right, gave me a job and a roof over my head, after all. His wife's the sweetest squib I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. I like helping her out in the kitchen whenever I can. I get out of my usual tasks under beating sun and get to taste the pies and cakes she bakes for desserts. Well, at least she tells her husband that's what we're doing, "tasting" the foodstuffs. Really she just gives me heaping platefuls of sweets and we talk about things. We talk about loads of things. Kind of like how ...a parent wou I like talking to her.
I remember when she first saw me by the edge of the forest. I must have looked like shite for her to gasp and come running over to me. Well, I'm normally accustomed to such reaction but I just knew it was different with her. She's a married woman, after all. She was out to get some firewood while her husband was taking care of the pub, so I helped her carry the logs back and she talked her husband into hiring me as a helping hand. It works out.
I'm kicking myself for leaving my guitar in storage with the rest of my things, now. It's just collecting dust at Hogwarts when I could be playing it at this moment. I'd do almost anything for some music right now. There's thing weird-looking contraption on the bedside table that Mrs. Muth says plays music, but I can't see how something that looks so ancient be of any use. There's a big thing coming out of it that sort of looks like the opening of a french horn, but there's no place to blow into it. Only a spinning surface that makes sort of a whirring sound, but I can hardly call that music. Same with Orla's singing, which she insists on doing while cleaning, despite the dogs' (and my) protests.
I think I may go for a walk.
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Comments: Read 23 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, July 14th, 2004
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| Time: | 7:55 pm. |
| Mood: |  drained. |
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[Owl to Bellatrix]
Bella,
This owl is dated some time ago. Artemis must have had some trouble finding me, and I'm not a bit surprised. I'm not even sure where I am, really. All I know is that I'm in a place where they eat chips with vinegar and it's just a bit terrifying.
I'm sorry for not dropping a line as to where I am. I assume you thought me to be with Andromeda, hence the request, but it's obvious that I'm not. I did ask her to take me in for the summer but James insisted that I spend the hols with him, so I told her not to expect me. And then a great big load of crap started to rain, no, HAIL from the sky and down onto my life and everything just got shot to fuck. Funny how that works.
In a peanut, as Remus says, my current state of existence sucks Snivellus' bollocks, who is responsible for all the darkness and despair and bad hairstyles and dirty underthings in the universe. He should be the one washing dishes for a living. Merlin knows that'd be the most contact with disinfecting agents he'd have had in an age.
Yours,
Sirius
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Comments: Read 6 or Add Your Own.
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[Private]
If I don't eat soon I think I really shall keel over and be pecked to death by vultures. They do seem to have a horrid habit of showing up at the most inconvenient of times. I could transform and chase a rabbit or two, I suppose, but after the ordeal with the skunk I'm not too keen on the idea.
I'm exhausted. Even my bollocks hurt. This can't be normal.
What I'd give for a friendly face right now. Or ever.
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"Mr. Black. A word?"
Sirius turned back to where the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor stood beside the grand mahogany desk, smiling to the stream of students who had just taken the exam and uttering words of congratulations every now and again. She caught Sirius' eye as the last of her pupils fled from the room, and she gestured for him to close the door before he took a seat in the front row.
"Professor Nectrum, I swear I don't have the slightest about the missing vase. I imagine a student must've knocked it down accidentally and has gone off to fix it, as it's a triumph of interior decoration and would be a shame to have it broken, seeing as it's a testament of your brilliant taste and-"
The corner of the witch's mouth twitched. "I assure you Mr. Black, I have the highest confidence that you shall return it better than new." She took a seat beside him and folded her hands on top of the desk. "I was only wondering what you have planned for the summer."
Sirius sighed inwardly. It shouldn't come as a surprise that the faculty knew about his home situation, or lack thereof. "I don't really have plans, per se. James and I rarely ever do. We just get up in the morning and do what we fancy at the time. And if our actions happen to have consequences, well, we just get on our brooms and take to the sky. Only my broom was...she passed on - I don't really want to talk about it - and so I'll have to resort to Apparating, I guess. The burial's this weekend at the Potters, if you were interested."
( oxymoron )
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| Time: | 4:22 pm. |
| Mood: |  cranky. |
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...
Where is my hair gel? My eldest cousin bought it specially from a Muggle salon barber shop. I would hate to think that someone borrowed it without my express permission, as that would mean I'd have to make said someone realise the extent of their transgression, and it would not be pleasant.
In other news, the funeral service for my dearly beloved/departed broom is this weekend. All who share my loss are welcome.
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, June 10th, 2004
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| Time: | 2:20 pm. |
| Mood: |  curious. |
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The year is going to be over soon. This summer is going to be different, to say the least. Is anybody else feeling a little... strange about it all? My knickers would be in a right twist if I was a seventh year. I've not the slightest as to what I want to do after Hogwarts. I mean, what choices do we even have? There's the Ministry, the Quidditch League, the entertainment industry, or setting up your own business. There's being an Auror as well, which I hear some of you are going into. I might just be interested, actually, that is if I get tired of the stage, bright lights, and screaming fans anytime soon. ;)
So. What are you lot planning for summer hols?
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Comments: Read 23 or Add Your Own.
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Whap!
Sirius yelped and promptly fell off his chair, hitting his chin on the table in the process. There came a sound that was suspiciously like suppressed laughter, and he stood up clutching where there was a bruise forming below his mouth, which was busying itself in scowl. He took a seat, moving as a man mortally wounded, which he was, only it was his pride that took the beating.
"What was that for?" His expression was reminiscent of a betrayed puppy.
"You were falling asleep. Really, Sirius, can you not take your revisions a little more sincerely? Your parents would hardly approve of mediocre grades."
"It's a good thing they've disowned me, then." He flipped to a random page in his DADA text, a little too casually. "They don't have to approve of anything I do. And naps don't warrant whacks upside the head, I feel."
Bellatrix did not take her eyes off her own book. "You won't even try to reconcile with them?"
"Would you?"
The young witch looked up and held her cousin's gaze. In his eyes were years of suffering, anger, yearning, anguish, loneliness - all unspoken, all painfully clear for those who knew how to seek it. She knew there was nothing left for him at Grimmauld Place, and she had to wonder if her desire for him to come home was not entirely unselfish. She nearly scoffed as the thought passed through her mind. Of course it was selfish. Home was were comfort and familiarity resided, and Sirius was comfortable and familiar both. She wanted him there for her own purposes, but that did not annul the fact that she wanted him close.
"I guess not. They would never take you back anyway. You have been behaving somewhat atrociously, cousin mine, and I don't blame them the least bit."
( thunderstruck )
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| Time: | 2:24 pm. |
| Mood: |  energetic. |
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Just to inform you all that I shall be kicking arse out on the quid field today, and you're all invited to watch.
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Comments: Read 9 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, June 2nd, 2004
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Sirius set his guitar aside, giving up composition for the night. He was alone in the Room of Requirement, which suspiciously resembled his old room at Grimmauld Place at the moment. He sprawled himself on the almost-familiar material, telling himself that the comfort came from the uncanny ability of the room to give the occupant just what they needed - a nice, snug bed - and not the cozy dimness he was accustomed to in another life. The candles on the bedside table flickered as he unwittingly sighed for the third time that quarter of the hour.
Things were tense. His body, for one, he thought as he kneaded a stiff shoulder. He'd wanted to ask Remus for a massage earlier but it didn't feel like the right time. It hadn't felt like the right time for anything in a good while, actually, if he was going to be honest with himself. Sirius idly wondered what it was he had done to push Remus back to sleeping in his own bed. He scoffed half-heartedly. It was probably the things he didn't do.
Sirius knew he was being a selfish prick, and it would've been fine if he was only hurting himself, but that wasn't the case. Of the pair of them, Remus was the one with the right to close himself off to others, to push loved-ones away, to wince at too intimate a touch. And yet the boy never hesitated to give all he could offer to his friends, specially one in particular, to whom he gave himself wholly, or at least wanted to, if only the other boy would let himself trust and once again be vulnerable in another's arms.
Memories flashed behind closed eyelids, rendering Sirius' chest to feel as though a heavy weight had settled on it. Once again with the familiarity, once again with the comfort, though even he would admit this was a somewhat twisted habit if he ever let himself think about these things. But for now he would sleep, for such tiredness went beyond the physical, and he would cuddle a pillow as he might a lover, but perhaps never will.
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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH( . )
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Comments: Read 12 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, April 28th, 2004
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| Time: | 3:18 pm. |
| Mood: | curious. |
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I was running. So fast I could barely see what was before me. I remember cacti growing on either side of the path, and every once in a while my arm would get nicked as I flew past. And then I was falling, drowning in an abyss. There was an infant in the water. He took my hand and pulled me to the surface. I tried to stand but there was an excruciating pain in my abdomen, and I fell forward. My face was in the dust. Something was kicking my side. It kept on until I vomited a small red velvet box. I opened it and it was empty.
No more pie before bed, me.
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Comments: Read 63 or Add Your Own.
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| Time: | 10:04 pm. |
| Mood: | hopeful. |
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{Remus}
Moony, you there?
I'm serving my detention as I write. Well, I obviously can't be scrubbing stairs as I write, but I'm taking a brief break. The house elves keep wanting to take over for me, but I told them to go fetch me some blueberry scones instead so I could work in peace. They were only too happy to oblige, of course.
Can you believe that Ravenclaw bloke! Trying things with Hestia right in front of me. He won't have use of his right arm for a week, s'wot. I reckon I won't either, they're aching summat awful already. Do you still have some of that potion you use for after the full moon? Think you could spare some for your pained Padfoot? I imagine I'll need help putting some on later.
If it's not too much of a bother, that is.
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Comments: Read 10 or Add Your Own.
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| Time: | 1:00 pm. |
| Mood: | content. |
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wow
didn't think we had that much of a following
they're probably all after hestia, the bastards
i won't hesitate to hex any other gits who try anything else with her. "i just wanted her autograph!!" my flaming arse. nobody ever just wants an autograph. hestia, all men are hogs. don't trust any of them, except for me. i'll make sure you're safe from their clutches.
that encore tired me out
mmm sundays and staying in bed
i don't suppose i have any underpants left. my drawers do seem a bit ransacked. why don't our dorms have anti-female charms? oh praise the bloody double standards.
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Comments: Read 31 or Add Your Own.
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Tuesday, April 20th, 2004
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| Time: | 3:01 pm. |
| Mood: | energetic. |
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Happy birthday, Travis. Have you a smashing one. :D
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Comments: Read 1 or Add Your Own.
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| Time: | 1:56 pm. |
| Mood: | amused. |
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[London, Muggle café, Sunday afternoon]
Sirius strode as a man with a purpose towards the end of the block, for indeed, he was. He pressed through the crowded street, which was glutted with people looking for decent summer sales like vultures on the hunt. Dodging skillfully past the throng, he arrived at his destination, panting slightly, but as far as he knew, intact.
He was seated almost immediately upon his arrival at the recherché café, as his cousin liked to refer to it. It was definitely not the sort of place one would find your local labourers hanging about. He had taken the advice to come 'well-pressed and presentable', and as he sat at a booth by the window, he thought it odd that he'd feel almost as comfortable in an oxford shirt and trousers as he did wandering around in underpants. Almost, he thought, chuckling over his glass of sparkling water. Nothing quite like strutting starkers.
( I wish I could amuse myself )
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| Time: | 4:57 pm. |
| Mood: | impressed. |
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Anybody else still reeling from the quid match yesterday?
Quite a game, I have to say.
{James}
I'm guessing we should expect extra practices, then?
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Comments: Read 6 or Add Your Own.
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Thursday, April 15th, 2004
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Sirius tugged as his tie for what felt like the hundredth time since sitting down to his herbology task. His collar was unbuttoned, as always, and his tie looked like it had seen better, freshly-pressed days. He poked at his plant as if it were an afterthought; his gaze kept darting to a certain Hufflepuff a few tables over.
"All right. Out with it, then. Which one of the badger birds did you impregnate?"
Sirius promptly choked on air. Trying to recover, he coughed, protesting, "I didn't think it was possible to make a female up the spout without actual sexual intercourse, or some rather intricate magic work." He leaned to his right and put an arm around his best mate. "Not that I would know anything about such a thing," he muttered into James' ear, pouting.
( James laughed )
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| Time: | 11:43 am. |
| Mood: | chipper. |
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Oh thursdays, how I love thee. I would write an ode but I think my bandmates would rather I finish our songs first. We have another gig on the 24th, after all. Can I count on some of you lot to be there? It's one of the last few Hogsmeade weekends, after all. :D
Looking forward to Double Herbology with the badgers today. We're breeding sensilis blossoms. I think I recall Frank some of the sixth years last year coming out of this lesson in tears from too much exposure to the silvery powder that induces sensitivity. Wouldn't be caught dead sniffling in such a manner. I'll be very much alive, I reckon.
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Comments: Read 34 or Add Your Own.
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Wednesday, April 14th, 2004
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| Time: | 2:02 pm. |
| Mood: | hopeful. |
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{Lionel and Hestia}
Madame Puddifoot's asking if we'd be interested in putting on a full gig (meaning all three of us present) next weekend, on the 24th. It'd be after both your house teams' quidditch game. What say you? :)
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Comments: Read 2 or Add Your Own.
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I WILL NOT BE OUTDONE!!!!!!!!
When I eat a muffin
I am reminded of
The sunset in my best mate's back yard
After a long day of flying
and running away from his grandfather
who is slightly senile, I think
but he's still "rocking"...sort of
It's just that he wants to get in
on all that we do
and I'm all "James, he might break a hip."
And he's all "Um...let's run really fast and maybe we'll lose him"
but then we lose ourselves in a Muggle neighbourhood
and the birds are all "Ooh, look at their robes, they're so goth!"
Whatever that means
I thought that referred to a style of architechture
that's what we learned in Muggle Studies anyway
but that just goes to show that Profs aren't always right
Yeah
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Comments: Read 23 or Add Your Own.
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toujours_noir's journal
lazy.