"Don't be suchadrama queen," she told him. "It's unbecoming."

Nigel scoffed. He wasn’t becoming, in any way, ever, and he really wasn’t trying to be. Even if he was, he could not care less about her opinion. And he would like to see anyone be mellow while sleep-deprived, worried about the future, and buried under a landslide of extra homework. As for the other part of her intended insult, someone had to be the Gryffindor drama queen, and the duty seemed to have fallen on Nigel. He had accepted it and had moved past it. “Your point is?”

"If you want to be miserable, I can make you miserable."

“Oh,” said Nigel, in a monotone, “how did you know. That’s just what I’ve always wanted. You are ever so benevolent and kind to bestow upon me such a favour.” He could barely contain an eye roll. He could well believe that she was capable of making anyone miserable. Was he not the living proof? Though, he rather felt that his brain was slowly melting… so his death was probably more imminent than usual. He was beginning to think that there would be no escape from her, either. Even if he tried to make a break for it and run up to his room, there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t try to follow him.

“You arejustcomplaining to complain."

“So?” There was no law against complaining. Nigel had a right to complain, and he chose to exercise that right often and at length. And who was she to talk? “You’re just complaining about my complaining because it’s interrupting the complaining you did originally.”

"You needto CALM down."

“WHOA!” He scrambled backwards and jerked his face out of her hands. In about half a second, he was on his feet and his wand was in his hand. “Don’t ever touch me. The sitting by me and bothering me is annoying, but I can put up with that. Don’t touch me again,” he warned her. “I will not hesitate to hex a girl.” Though he spoke bravely and his voice did not waver, there was a slight tremor in his wand hand. It wasn’t that she was a girl. He had just never been very good at dueling… If she pressed her luck, though, he felt fairly confident that he could whip out a Leg-Locker, or something. Enough to buy himself time, anyway.