All the requisite ines are present in the bloodstream; caffeine, morphine, theobromine, nicotine - and yet my brain resolutely fails to kickstart.
I must, and shall, write something today. Problem is, there are three versions of Draco's very-late-Friday-night/Saturday morning kicking around in my head, and I don't know which is the "correct" one, and I really really don't have time to write all three. I think I may go with the detail-light implicit and/or scanty revelations version, because otherwise poor Seamus will be waiting forever for his Joyce and Guinness :)
x_mass, I've just thought - I know, it should have been so bloody obvious, but something in my brain prevented it, and I can't fathom why - there's Punt!T00bage this w/e in Oxford (it's a UK HP-fandom meet), and rather than do two train trips in a day and possibly have to miss punting because I have to get home earlier rather than later, is there any chance I can crash with you on Saturday night? If not, don't worry, there'll be plenty of other weekends, but when you said how much you were missing me, and then cygnusfap posted this afternoon about lunch orders for Saturday, it went *click*. 