Everything in this story except the plot is J.K. Rowling's. Just saying.
"I'm trying to write. I'm trying to be real, and I'm trying to get everything I want to say on this piece of paper, but the problem is, I can't get anything on the paper because I don't know what I want. I hate you. I hate everything about you. Your greasy hair and your pale skin and those cold, cold eyes, and I wish you would just go away and stop all the nonsense. I hate it when you call me Mudblood, I hate it when you speak to me at all. Frankly, I wish you'd just quit speaking to me altogether. Yeah, that's it. That's what I want. For you to just give it up already and quit speaking to me. Besides, it's not like I need you anyway. Just another day, with another project, and you're just another partner who won't do anything. Bloody Snape."
Hermione snapped the journal shut and muttered the password to seal it. She couldn't believe Snape. How dare him! Putting her with that filthy, abominable, disgusting, utterly impossible...
"Mudblood, get over here," Malfoy ordered, glaring at her.
"What do you want, Malfoy," she practically growled. She was in the library. This was the library. Her place, her time. This was her time, and she wasn't about to let a prat like Malfoy ruin it for her.
He stuck one hand out, palm up, and extended his index finger. Then, he pulled it toward himself three times, in a very deliberate motion.
That arse.
She stalked over to him. "What."
"Ah, good little Mudblood," he sneered. "I knew you'd come when called."
She pulled her fists into tight balls of anger, closed her eyes deliberately, opened them again, and said through clenched teeth, "What."
"So, the project," he started, his voice still dripping with contempt. "I say we split the work down the middle. The less I have to see of you, the better."
"Agreed," she said quickly, tapping her foot in annoyance.
"Besides," he added sarcastically, "I wouldn't want to take any more time away from your precious diary, now would I?" He eyed the book in her hand cruelly, then glared at her again.
Her eyes were dark brown and flashing with anger. "Sod off, Malfoy," she growled.
A moment of tense silence passed between them.
Finally, she spoke. "Are we through?"
"For now," he responded, flicking his wrist toward her as though she were some pesky insect he wished to remove from his presence.
Slamming the door on her way out, Hermione stomped out of the library. She stopped just outside the doors, fuming and clutching her books to her chest.
This was going to be one long semester.
"That filthy, disgusting, irritating, utterly impossible prat!" she fumed, now screaming at the top of her lungs.
"Woah, woah," Ron said, touching her shoulders.
"Don't touch me," she growled, jerking sharply away from him.
His eyes went wide, and he took several steps back. He blinked a few times, but appeared downright afraid to say more.
"So what did he do?" Harry asked.
He didn't realize it would set her off again.
"What did he do? What did he do?" she shrieked. "What didn't he do?"
Harry took his cue from Ron and backed away.
"He bloody orders me around like I'm just another one of his bloody slaves, almost like he thinks I live to hear him call me over!" Her eyes were flashing even more now, and her breathing was coming rather erratically.
Ron and Harry exchanged a worried glance. Each motioned to the other, glancing wearily at the angry female. That was one thing, after all, both of them knew not to mess with.
Ginny came down the stairs to the common room, and Ron and Harry looked helplessly at her. Hermione was still fuming, pacing back and forth and looking about fit to kill.
Ginny approached her carefully. "Hermione?" she asked.
"What."
Ginny didn't speak for a moment. She took a breath and appeared to collect herself. "That bloody Ferret Face again, huh?" she asked knowingly.
Hermione just nodded, still glaring at nothing in particular.
"Forget about him," Ginny said simply.
Hermione blinked at her a few times in disbelief.
"Seriously, Hermione," she added, "he's not worth all this."
Finally, Hermione sighed and unclinched her fists. She was vaguely aware of the stinging sensation as her muscles protested. She glanced at her palms by way of distraction, noting the deep nail marks she had created in her fury. She briefly wondered when she had actually clenched her fists in the first place.
"I suppose you're right, Ginny," she said finally.
"Of course I am," the girl responded, patting her on the shoulder. "Now, let's go down to dinner. What do you say?"
"I guess I could use some food," Hermione admitted.
"Good." With that, the two girls exited the portrait hole.
The two boys, left alone in an empty common room, shook their heads incredulously.
"Now how the bloody hell did she do that?" Ron mused, almost more to himself than anyone.
"It's a girl thing, I guess," Harry replied, scratching his head.
"Dinner, then?" Ron said.
"Dinner," Harry replied quickly.
Then they, too, exited the portrait hole.
Yes indeed, it was going to be quite an interesting semester.
A/N: Hey everyone, let me know what you think. Does it seem like a good beginning for an at least semi-interesting story? Thanks!