Author's Notes: I suddenly came up with this idea half an hour ago, and this is the result. If you like it, maybe I'll continue. The name may change, just to warn you. I'm not a super big fan of Harry Potter, and it's been a while since I've read the books, so I apologize if they're out of character. But do read and review, if you can. Thanks for stopping by!

I hate her. I hate every atom of her being. I hate her frizzy hair. I hate her muddy brown eyes. I hate the scornful tilt of her lips whenever she sees misfortune befall me. I hate her know-it-all-ness. I hate how insolent she is. I hate how insufferably bold she is. I hate how she smells like a muggy, rainy, thunderstorm. I hate her more than I could ever put to words, more than I could ever convey, more than anyone has hated anyone.

She looks like a cheesy cartoon tonight in a long, flowing gown. There's that twitch, that smile, hidden in the corner of her mouth, and everyone's staring at her. I don't understand it. She's sickly pale. Her hair is sculpted with spray. She looks like something pretend, something mock, something plastic from a fairytale. I don't know why no one can take their eyes off her. I just have to glare, and glare, and hope I can wipe that happy smirk off her face with shear force of will. Wipe it off, throw it to the dirt, trample on it, and make it never, ever come again.

Maybe I should say something nasty. Unfortunately, I know better than to anger that Krum fellow. Insulting his date would be a sure way to do that. Why he chose her I'll never know. She's sappy sweet. Her nose is stuck in a book half the time. She won't shut up, and is always pointing out things' flaws. She always thinks she has a solution for them, too. And she always says it.

I hate her so much, and I can't bare to see how much she's enjoying tonight. I can't even focus on Pansy. She keeps trying to catch my attention, and I throw her a smile or a glare intermittently, frown and nod as called for. But this is more important. There she goes, off dancing, twirling, smiling, laughing. Look at all the fun the tramp's having, swinging through his arms, gliding in the air, laughing. Watch her spring about, her tamed main of frizz and fluff falling from its slick hold. And I can't enjoy myself. I can't, and it's not fair. I can't so long as she's grinning so much. I can't so long as she's sliding through Krum's grip, having such a marvelous night while here I am, steaming for her glee. How dare she ruin tonight for me? How dare she?

"Draco?" Pansy asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Pansy," I replied, somewhat exasperated. "I wish you would stop asking. That's the third time I've answered."

"You seems so distant."

"If you're so unhappy, find yourself another partner. I'm done."

"Draco, I didn't mean that – !"

"Well I did. Shoo."

I marched off before she had a chance to respond, grabbing some punch and trying to laugh as Longbottom stepped on his poor partner's toes.

Ha, ha, ha.

There go Weasley and Potter. There they go, talking to Granger... she'll just brighten up at their presence, be even happier, my dark enemy, and I'll be even more miserable, all alone at the punch table. I don't even have a dance partner, while she glows and glimmers in happiness. How dare she. She with her good grades – better than I, even, no matter how hard I try to beat her. It's not fair.

But wait. She's not smiling anymore.

I hate her. I hate everything about her, the filthy little mud blood. I hate how she's so close with so many people, how tolerant she is. I hate her so much, but I didn't get any satisfaction as she sinks to the floor in tears. I smile at first, but it vanishes into cold emptiness. I'm still alone, and I'm still here at the punch table, and she's still her, and I hate her just as much. I threw my drink on the ground, scowling as I stalked off looking for Crab and Goyle, throwing her uneasy glances over my shoulder as I went. This wasn't any fun.