"OH! My Dracooooo! I love you sooooo!" Annabelle sang.
"Annabelle, enough with the singing! You're embarrassing me!" cried Draco.
"Your apple isn't singing, Draco," said Pansy Parkinson. "And I don't think its name is Annabelle."
"Shut up, Pansy! She's not just an apple! Annabelle is my girlfriend!" insisted Draco.
"Your girlfriend is... an apple? You're such an idiot!"
"Go away! Annabelle is not just an apple! She sings to me and she loves me!" cried Draco.
"Whatever," said Pansy, and continued with her work for Potions.
"It is okayyyyy, you are my fayyyyyvorite boy in the whooooole wide wooooorld!" sang Annabelle.
"And you're my favorite girl!" said Draco.
"Oh Merlin, would you shut up, Draco? Honestly, that stupid apple is just sitting there! It's not singing anything!" said Pansy.
Annabelle sniffled.
"Don't cry, Annabelle! It's only Pansy, she doesn't mean anything!" said Draco to Annabelle.
"Yeah I do, I mean that you're a complete moron!" said Pansy. "And you too, you dumb apple!"
"Stop it, Pansy, you're hurting her feelings!" cried Draco, stroking Annabelle.
"Apples don't have feelings, Draco!" Pansy shouted.
"Well, Annabelle does! So shut up!" cried Draco.
"Don't bother defending me, Draco," said Annabelle. "I can't take it anymore." She rolled onto her side. She slowly and dramatically rolled closer and closer to the edge of the table.
"NO!" shouted Draco. It was too late. Annabelle had already rolled off the table and landed with a splat on the floor. Draco slammed his head on the table, crying. "ANNABELLE! NO!"
Just then, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle walked in. "Who spilled their applesauce?" asked Crabbe. He bent down and stuck a fat finger into Annabelle's guts. Draco couldn't bear to watch as Crabbe said, "Mmm!" and finished off the rest.
Draco bent over the floor where Annabelle had lain. He stayed there, mourning over his favorite singing apple, Annabelle.