Procrastonation.is.a.curse[Open]

[themarauder]

It's no surprise to me, I am my own worst enemy--

It was around One-Thirty in the morning and books, parchment, Ink, and empty candy wrappers could be found all around James. All weekend he had been so preoccupied with Quidditch, he had just sort of forgot about homework, and well he just didn't feel like doing it. He had better things to do. So this is why he was only halfway done with all his essays and practicing spells, all of which was due tomorrow. The last student he had seen had been over an hour ago, yawning and heading to their dormitories. He himself was fighting drowsiness and every moment it threatened to win their little war.

Normally, James was great at not getting tons of sleep and being able to walk around the castle at all hours, causing mayhem or just doing whatever. For some reason he actually felt tired this night. Maybe it was the homework, or the Quidditch practice that got him. As James fought back another yawn, he brought his hand up to wards his mouth, knocking over a bottle of ink which landed all over his half finished Transfiguration essay. "Bloody Hell" He muttered as he quickly reached to recover the bottle and groaned as he realized it was to late. The ink had already spreaded on parts of the document and he was way to tired to remember the charm that would clean it up. Even if he did remember, it wouldn't matter, he was horrible at cleaning spells.

James sighed as he sat back. He had come to the conclusion that he was a complete idiot. Why did he always do this and put everything off to the last minute. He was a legendary procrastinator. He rubbed his eyes, attempting to wake his self up a bit more. He tried to relax a bit, maybe if he just calmed down then he would feel alot better and be able to finish everything. Bad idea. He wound up slipping off into sleep as his quill slipped out of his right hand and his homework laid around him, still unfinished. James Potter was screwed.

cause every now and then I kick the living sh** out of mE

[Marlene McKinnon]

Tossing and turning in her bed was slowly, but surely starting to drive Marlene insane. She'd gone to her dorm around eight, trying to fight off the constant tiredness she'd been feeling recently, and now this...this was the result. So much for trying to do something good for herself without using magic. If that was the way her body thanked her for small favors, she could say goodbye to ever trying healthy things. Groaning in frustration she buried her face in her pillow and the yell she let out was successfully muffled. This couldn't be good for her beauty. Tomorrow she'd be up with purple circles underneath her hazel eyes and she would have to use twice the amount of Glamours she normally did. Now, that was a complication in itself, since she used the precise amount to keep herself looking natural without looking un-made. In the morning, she would be late for classes, no doubt, ensuring a detention that would make her hands grow harsh and brittle with whatever task they'd put her up to. Wrinkling her nose at the thought, she gave a heart-felt sigh and sat up, running a hand through her brunette locks. No point in trying to reconcile sleep now. It was obvious she was going to be up from now on so she might as well get up.

Waving her wand with an irritated gesture, her Lumos charm illuminated her face dimly as she walked towards the washroom, the only purpose to look at her face. Vain was always a good adjective to describe her, and personally, Marlene didn’t have a trouble accepting the fact. If that’s all people wanted to see in her, that was up to them. There was nothing she could do about it, and she wasn’t going to go around worrying about that. That only caused for unwanted lines to appear in her brows, so she let it go easily, as if she hadn’t heard it in the first place.

Deciding she was semi-decent, even if her mole was showing through, she sighed again and bit her bottom lip. What to do? It was good she had decided to get up and all but what was she to do? Surely she wouldn’t be sitting on the edge of her bed all night, waiting for the sun to rise? What a boring thought. The single reason made her frown, and with a huff she walked out of the washroom, decided to do something, for goodness’ sake. Going downstairs was step one. From the common room, she was sure inspiration was bound to hit. So she tiptoed out of the dormitory, making sure not to wake up her roomies and went down the winding staircase, her fingers trailing lightly against the wall. Her dainty slippers were soundless on the stone steps, and when she finally arrived, she was hit with something more—less?—than inspiration. For there was James Potter in all his sleeping and glorious stupor. A smile crept into her lips and she arched an eyebrow. Temptation was too hard to resist. With a simple wave of her wand, sparks flew out of the tip of her wand, a loud bang emitted with them.