I was in a foul mood all week, thanks to the upcoming detention. Sue had tried cheering me up, but to no avail. Chris even told me that if I became "better", she'd let me snog her to my heart's content when we were older. That didn't even boost my spirit.

They threw a party for me, too, much to the displeasure of our Head of House, Professor Flint (also the potions teacher. He apparently had to redo a year during his time at Hogwarts, though I had no idea how or why he mastered potions, and I never really bothered to care).

Of course, nothing could cheer me up. I had to have detention with Weasley and James Bloody Potter, after all, and not even all the money in the world could make me smile again.

This was torture.

And when my much-anticipated Saturday midnight finally came, I took my time walking to the school entrance. Curse Weasley. I was thinking of spells in my mind and imagining their effects on her when I saw Filch heading toward me, leaving Weasley and Potter to wait by the double doors. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy," the squib sneered at me, "Your father will not be pleased if he heard of this."

"Don't you dare tell him, Filch," I spat, clenching my hand into a fist. Detention was worse enough. If Father found out, all hell would break loose.

I calmed myself down by thinking of Weasley being hexed by moi.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of telling him," Filch said immediately, though his sneer was still in place.

"And speaking of detention, do you have a place in mind?" I wondered, hoping it wouldn't be too bad.

He nodded. "I met that half-giant a few days ago, and he asked me if you could serve detention at his...place. Said something about pumpkins. Seems fitting, doesn't it, especially since that Weasley girl had stolen one."

I scowled, but didn't comment, as we had arrived at the designated meeting spot. Weasley, to my surprise, nodded to me before muttering something to Potter beside her. They laughed, but broke off abruptly as Filch and I joined them.

"Good thing you're here," Filch grunted, gesturing to me, "If I had to listen to those two's jokes any more..."

"You know you like them," Potter teased, and for once I didn't mind him. I never liked Filch too much. In fact, I was almost grateful that Potter was making fun of Filch. Almost. Weasley giggled in an annoying, girlish way. She stopped when I glared at her.

Filch led us out of the school, doing his best to ignore the unnecessary conversations going on behind his back.

"Where in Merlin's name are we going?" Weasley asked, shivering in the cold.

"Isn't it obvious, Weasley? We're going to Hagrid's," I growled, feeling smug for the fact that I knew something she didn't. Well, I did practically force Filch to tell me, but still.

"Mr. Malfoy is correct," Filch said, "You will be helping him plant pumpkins for next year."

Ah, so that was what it the part about pumpkins were. Planting pumpkins wasn't so bad.

Weasley glowered at Filch. "What?" she whined, "Why didn't you say anything earlier? If you had, I would've brought my cloak!"

Pathetic.

Hagrid's hound barked loudly as we arrived at his excuse-for-a-house. "James! Rosie! Oh, an' Malfoy, of course," the half-giant greeted us (mostly Potter and Weasley).

"I'm sorry for taking your pumpkin without permission, Hagrid," Weasley mumbled.

"I fergive yeh," Hagrid answered instantly, as he patted her shoulder, "Brings back memories of yer dad an' mum, eh?"

Aw, how sweet. Note to self: make sure to know the teachers very well so you can get out of all sorts of trouble. Isn't that a beautiful thing?

Weasley sneezed, breaking me out of my thoughts. How very rude of her. "I-It's pretty cold, isn't it?" She commented, her teeth chattering.

Ah, well, she deserved the coldness.

Though the sweet side of myself decided that she deserved a coat. That way, she would actually be able to fully-function during the detention, rather than complaining her arse off about the weather.

Weasley, freezing to death?

Weasley, in my cloak, actually doing her part of the work?

I decided on the latter, and took off my cloak and dropped—dumped it, rather—over her. If that was the key to stopping her obnoxious complaining, so be it.

"Y-You don't have a fever or anything, do you?" Weasley stammered, frowning at my act of kindness. Stupid Muggle superstitions about a fever being the cause of abnormal behavior.

"I can't stand your complaining," I responded with a shrug. Couldn't she just accept the bloody cloak like a normal person without causing such a fuss over it? I folded my arms across my chest. Now that the warmth from my cloak was gone, I felt my cheeks reddening in the cold.

And now that Weasley had stopped complaining—all thanks to yours truly—Hagrid gave us each a package of pumpkin seeds and we set off to work in silence.

A wonderful silence. One without Weasley making snide remarks every half-second.

All peace was never long-lived, unfortunately, as Weasley suddenly screamed and jumped backward from her row of pumpkins. She tripped over the one behind her (now we were even, to say the least). I so happened to be the nearest to where she was, and I reluctantly walked over to investigate what had caused our beloved redhead so much fright.

"Spider!" She shrieked, pointing at said poor spider who was unfortunate enough to meet a Weasley in his short lifetime. "Get it away from me!"

Now, don't get me wrong. Normally, I would never follow orders, and especially not from a Weasley. But in this case, she was ruining my cloak (she was still half-sitting and half-lying on the ground, and I was sure her arse wasn't about to move off of it unless the spider was no longer bothering her) by getting dirt on it.

"It's just a spider, Weasley," I said calmly, smirking at her and contemplating whether to save her or let her be.

"I don't care! Get it away!" She yelled, "James! Help!"

The thought of Potter being the heroic one actually angered me, and so, I pulled out my wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!" I said lazily, hovering the spider away from where it was only moments ago. "There, Weasley. Better?"

She shook her head wildly. What, for the love of Merlin, is her problem now? "It's still here somewhere!"

I was now becoming tired of all her complaining. I sighed and offered her my hand. "Come on, Weasley, let's just get the work done. I'm tired, and you probably are, too."

It took her a while to agree, but she did, "S-Sure." She accepted my hand and I pulled her up. She quickly brushed the dust off of her robes (including my cloak!).

Potter rushed over then to see what had troubled his cousin. Ha, too late! I rolled my eyes as I watched him fuss over her while she repeatedly answered his questions with, "I'm fine, James, how many times do I have to say it?"

So, what did we learn about our dear friend the Weasley today?

That she was obnoxious, whiny, a know-it-all (who was only useful in class. I mean, come on, we learn magic to use it in the real world. What good would it be if you forgot every spell as soon as you were in danger?), a prat, and an arse?

Ding! Correct!

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