Oh James, you're more appreciated than you'll ever know. What's not appreciated is feeling the bed, so springy to begin with, begin vibrating in time with the gusto of Sirius' movements. Once, she'd watched him while he dreamt as a dog, laughing at the wiggling nose, twitching whiskers, and the manic sort of wiggle in his legs. She doesn't look at him now, but she can imagine it all the same.

Too bad she's much too tired to find the image cute this morning.

Lily tries ignoring it. It doesn't stop, though. Then James begins mumbling, and it still doesn't stop. So, with an incoherent grumble, she rolls onto her stomach in the hopes that if she's not right next to him, maybe she won't feel it as much. Which, of course, results in her half hanging off the mattress because the two of them are bed hogs and she's nothing more than an innocent bystander in this abuse. The absolute worst of the worst, they are. Wankers.

It's not the nicest of thoughts to have first thing in the morning, but she's also not a morning person. With a huff, she sits up, pushes her mane of red hair out of her face, and promptly smacks them both with her pillow. Right in the faces.