For about the 12th time in the last half-hour, Severus crossed his arms and glared across the large leather-bound tomb at his study partner. The best thing about working with Bathsheda was that she pulled her own weight. The worst thing was that she was always bloody contrary and refused to simply take Severus's word for it when he was definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent correct about something. As he was in this particular instance. (And most others.)
“Well I can't find the reference,” Severus admitted, making an irritated clicking noise with his tongue as he shoved parchment to the side with more force than strictly necessary. “But I remember it clearly. You're being ridiculous.”
They’d studied together regularly since term started,, so Severus couldn’t exactly say he was surprised they’d reached a parting of opinions as they had so many other times when it came to theoretical magics, but even so:
He liked Bathsheda. He respected Bathsheda. He was absolutely going to lose his patience and hex Bathsheda any minute now.
@belbabbling