Hand in auror evaluation report for Dennis Creevey (Due last month, might actually need to start on that today)
Reschedule curse break lecture
Buy a housewarming gift for Ginny and Luna
Ask out Draco sodding Malfoy because Seamus Finnigan hereby swears to Merlin’s dirty underpants that he will imperio you to kiss him if he catches you staring at his ass one more time without doing anything about it.
Tell Seamus to stay the fuck away from my to do list, and I don’t stare at Draco’s ass thank you very much
Stop lying to myself and my amazingly handsome friends and admit that I have a giant gay crush on the kinda sexy blond ministry potion master
Murder Dean in his sleep because I do not have a crush on Draco Malfoy I hate him (besides, you’re the one who called him sexy, maybe you should ask him out)
I only appreciate his aesthetic from an artist point of view, I wouldn’t leave Seamus for anyone, he’s way too cute
Tell Dean to stop crushing on his husband on my to do list because just looking at the two of you gives me diabetes already
Fuck off Fred
You too George
Tell Ron he’s the most amazing auror partner/best friend/brother from another mother evahhhh because he just faked your terrible handwriting and asked Malfoy out for you
You are stuck in roadworks. There were no roadworks yesterday. There will be no roadworks tomorrow, when you do not need to drive. You turn down another street, but there are roadworks here, too. There are roadworks behind you. Everywhere, the sound of jackhammers.
To get from home to work, you must walk uphill. To get from work to home, you must walk uphill. There are no downhills.
You cross a bridge. Below it is Edinburgh. Around you is Edinburgh. Above you is Edinburgh. Inside you is Edinburgh.
Outside it is raining. You look up and see sun and blue sky. At your feet is snow.
You walk into a building and cross over ot the window. You are six stories up. You return to the door. You are twelve stories up. You return to the window. You are in the void.
Your feet stick to the floor in Hive. You can feel yourself beginning to sink. You try to escape, but every door leads to another dancefloor. You sink into a sticky darkness where unseen figures gyrate against you. Shots are a pound.
Humans are seen bringing sticks and toys to Greyfriars Bobby’s grave. No human is seen removing them, but they disappear.
It is 12.59. You hear nothing. It is 2pm. No cannon fired and one o’clock did not happen.
You spit on the heart for luck. The heart beats. The city pulses. The city blesses you.
You wander down a side street. There is a statue of John Knox and a shop that sells only hats of many colours. Tomorrow you will return, and there will be a statue of Adam Smith and a cafe that does not serve coffee.
A tourist wants a history book about Princess Merida. A tourist tells you that William Wallace is only a movie character. A tourist wants to know why you do not know your own history. You weep that you only know the history of the reality that you are from.
You are cold and lost and alone in an unknown place. You find a bus stop. A 35 bus arrives. The 35 goes everywhere. The 35 can take you home. The 35 leaves without you because you do not have exact change.