Suddenly, it's almost time for exams.

Really? That's what you're going with?

What? It IS almost time for exams.

No lead in. Nothing happening in between. Just "time for exams."

Yes.

Wow. That is some SHITTY writing.

Fuck you, Seymour.

You know, that did actually happen.

...wait what.

In another story. I had sex. With the giant snake in the basement.

Oh yeah, I read that!

And are you not ashamed?

If I had any sense of shame, I wouldn't be writing this.

...see, I want to disagree, but you're absolutely correct on that count.

So anyway, it's almost time for exams. And, naturally, Hermione is freaking the fuck out.

Boo!

What?

Freaking the fuck out? Lame!

...is this your attempt at being the narrator again?

Here's your attempt at being the narrator: So lame. I am so lame. The Sorting Hat is much cooler than me, and it's just a piece of clothing. But that's okay, because all my clothing is much cooler than me. I should just go kill myself.

I–

God, you're so boring. Just, SO boring. Do you actually think you're smart? Or funny? Or interesting?

Well I–

Because you claim you're not in every way possible in this story. I mean, you're writing passages where the entire point of them is for your authorship to be insulted! But you know what, buddy?

JUST BECAUSE YOU ADMIT YOU SUCK DOESN'T MAKE YOU SUCK LESS.

That's the big secret, the thing you don't want to admit. That even if you point out you suck, well, that's not going to make anybody like you more. In fact, all it does is point out that you're wholly and utterly a piece of shit, because you're doing something you KNOW you're bad at and expecting people to love you for it!

If you suck at something, you should stop doing it. And you know what? You've never gotten that memo. You've continued to do stuff even when people warn you off of it gently, just nicely pointing out that maybe you're not that good, you're not that talented, no this isn't a good idea...no, you just keep on doing it anyway. And here we are today, you writing crappy fanfiction that nobody wants to read, but oh wait! You've noticed that you're not writing the most popular stuff in the world! It's decidedly third-tier when compared with everyone else's writing! But hey, there's an easy way around that, just admit you suck and maybe people will laugh at that.

You're not funny.

You're not smart.

You're not interesting.

And worst of all, you're not entertaining.

That's right. You're BORING.

You bore me. You bore your readers. You bore YOURSELF, which is why you constantly procrastinate on this story. On all your stories, really. And no, admitting you're boring doesn't make it better. In fact, it actually makes it worse, because then it can't be written off as 'oh, well, it's a young writer, they stand a chance of improving'...no. When you ADMIT you suck, you're complacent. You're apathetic. You're perfectly fine with it.

And you're never going to try and get better.

So yeah. Go fuck yourself. Seymour out.

...

...

...

...is he gone?

...

...

...

Uh. Okay then.

Ahem.

I had...well. Time to drown my sorrows in alcohol.

I'm back, and my sadness is masked with mood-altering substances. By which I mean peppermint schnapps. Which are cheap and get me drunk fast, so, y'know. A good deal all around. Except for my liver.

Anyway, when we last left off it was almost time for exams, and Hermione was freaking the fuck out...yeah, that is a crappy set of words. Yeesh. She was freaking out. Which she does. On a regular basis. When it comes to schoolwork.

"Hermione," Millicent says calmly. "You need to calm down. We're all prepared for the finals."

"Yeah," Blaise agrees. "Besides, everyone knows that none of this matters until fifth year. And then we just have to pass the standardized tests."

Hermione stares at them. "And it doesn't worry you that instead of actually teaching the material, the teachers will teach to the test with no regards for whether we actually learn anything or not?"

"To be fair, they wouldn't care if we actually learned anything in the first place," Millicent points out. "Standardized testing at least provides a baseline to find out whether children are retaining any information in the classroom and allows for a reasonably clear assessment of scholastic progress."

"It also interferes with allowing children to learn by forcing them to learn a set amount of information, often curated to reflect the viewpoint of the most powerful groups in society, and focus only on that instead of exploring more topics in more depth," Hermione shoots back.

Blaise groans. "Are we really going to have a debate over educational policy now?"

"Yes!" Hermione and Millicent say.

Blaise stands up. "Fine. I didn't want to do this."

"Do what?" Hermione asks.

"In fact, I got up this morning and said 'self,' I said, 'self, I really don't want to have to do this. Self, please don't do this. If Hermione and Millicent start doing a thing, self, just go along. Don't do this.' But gosh darn it, it's time! So, I'm going to do this. Even though I really don't want to."

"Do what?" Hermione asks again.

Blaise grins. "It's Thursday afternoon, right?"

"Right..." Millicent allows.

"Well, on Friday night, we're going under the trapdoor and seeing what's down there!"

Hermione gapes at him.

"That's right!" Blaise declares. "Once and for all, we're going to find out what's going on!"

Hermione continues to gape at him.

Blaise blinks. "Hermione? You okay?"

Hermione gapes.

"Uh, you might want to close your mouth. A moth could fly in there and–"

"ARE YOU INSANE?" Hermione yelps.

Blaise looks affronted. "No! Moths occasionally fly into cavernous spaces, such as your mouth, and then it might poop on your tongue, and that's just gross."

"Not that!" Hermione says. "Are you nuts? Now? We have exams coming up!"

Blaise rolls his eyes. "Exactly. And you're going to freak out over them for the rest of the weekend, not sleep at all on Sunday, and then try to do your exams while completely exhausted and get worse grades than you would have otherwise."

"That's not true!" Hermione says, offended.

Blaise and Millicent give her a Look.

"That's only partially true!" Hermione corrects herself.

Blaise and Millicent give her another Look.

"That may be true but that's not the issue!" Hermione says.

"Uh, yes it is," Blaise points out. "If we do it on Friday night, we'll probably finish early on Saturday morning, you'll collapse into bed and actually sleep, then you'll get up at like midnight, and then you'll be able to get a good night's rest on Sunday night because your internal clock is out of whack enough to let you fall asleep then, and then you'll be fully rested when exams do come along."

"SLEEP CYCLES DO NOT WORK LIKE THAT!" Hermione protests.

Millicent shrugs. "I dunno. That checks out pretty clean to me."

"Then it's settled!" Blaise declares. "Spread the word around, Millicent!"

Millicent looks doubtful. "Are you sure we should bring Neville? He's...really annoying."

"Plus he's been hanging around with those two idiots from Slytherin," Hermione points out.

Blaise looks disappointed. "Hermione. We're in the friendship house. We don't get rid of our friends just because we don't like their friends. Our lovers, sure, but not our friends."

"...what?" Hermione asks, confused.

"If you wanna be our lovers, you gotta get with our friends!" Blaise sings. "Make it last forever, friendship never ends!"

"Didn't they break up because the friendship between the members turned into a toxic pond of mutual loathing?" Millicent asks.

"Not the issue!" Blaise says. "We're going on Friday night!"

"Fine," Millicent says. "I'll tell Neville. But if this backfires horribly on us, I reserve the right to do the I-Told-You-So song and dance."

"Oh, don't worry," Blaise says smugly. "This'll backfire on us horribly for completely different reasons."

"That does not fill me with confidence," Hermione says flatly.