Chucked at the head of one Draco Malfoy by one Ginevra Weasley in the middle of a detention period supervised by their mutual Transfiguration Professor:

Malfoy,

Stop glaring at me! I like the current holes in my head and needn’t any additional ones!

Ginny.

Charmed by one Draco Malfoy to buzz like an annoying fly around the head of one Ginevra Weasley for about ten minutes before it was swatted down with a loud thud by aforementioned Miss, earning her a scathing look from Professor McGonagall:

Weasley,

You have contaminated my personal space with that gaudy excuse of a parchment and now I’ll have to burn my desk, school books, robes, etc. I hope you’re happy. I would demand you to pay for it, but really… who am I kidding?

D.M.

Charmed by Miss Ginevra Weasley to repeatedly fly up Mr. Draco Malfoy’s nasal canals:

Malfoy,

I really hope you’re intending on burning your fingers too since they were holding my parchment.

Ginny.

Magically appeared in Miss Ginevra Weasley’s left ear:

Thanks for reminding me. I’ll have them amputated.

D.M.

Magically appeared in Mr. Draco Malfoy’s mouth, written on the same piece of parchment that was previously found in Miss Weasley’s left ear, causing uncontrollable gagging and choking from Mr. Malfoy upon realization:

Oooh, medieval punishments! Good for you, Ferret-Face! Give me an early Christmas present and use the srewthumbs.

Ginny.

Found between the pages of Miss Weasley’s Transfiguration book:

It’s thumbscrews, imbecile.

D.M.

P.S. – You will pay.

Appeared in the middle of Mr. Malfoy’s Transfiguration notes:

Really… who are you kidding?

Ginny.

Magically impaled itself on the tip of Miss Weasley’s quill, squeezing the ink out of it and leaving an ugly dark blue splotch in the middle of her Transfiguration assignment:

Keep it up, Weasley, and your hag of a Professor won’t stop me from hexing that lovely red hair of yours into a beehive.

D.M.

Charmed to spew the spilt dark blue ink onto Mr. Malfoy’s assignment:

You’ll be sporting bogey bats long before your fingers reach your wand, Malfoy. Don’t threaten a Weasley.

Weasley.

P.S.: You think my hair is lovely?

Charmed to spit dark green ink in the face of one Miss Weasley, earning another night of detention with the Gryffindor Head of House for the Slytherin Seeker:

One lucky shot and you think you can rule the world. One stupid hex does not qualify you for a Merlin’s Order, Weasley. Your skills with a wand – if you can even call that crooked twig “a wand” – compare to my skills with a spatula (whatever in the world that is).

D.M.

P.S. – Yes, as lovely as the residues of a decayed hyena in the middle of a heat wave.

Charmed to soundlessly laugh in the face of Mr. Malfoy:

World domination is your dream, Ferret-Face, not mine. I really don’t think one stupid hex qualifies me for the Order; however, aforementioned stupid hex so marvelously executed on a git as great as yourself, causing everlasting mental scars and years of psychological treatment even your father has difficulty sponsoring, surely does. And for your information, I could easily cause you similar damage with a spatula.

P.S.: You are gross.

Sent flying across the empty classroom with every intention of hitting Miss Weasley’s head, but instead getting stuck in the unruly waves of her loosely tied bun:

[Charmed to magically scribble itself on the sidelines of Miss Weasley’s parchment, causing a confused furrow to her brows as she patted her wild tresses until the present note was detected, following by a deep rouge blush:

For Merlin’s sake, Weasley! Pick up a brush once in a bloody while! ]

The only way you’ll be getting a Merlin’s Order is by valiantly/stupidly/Gryffindorly (circle whatever suits your fancy) sacrificing your life for a lost cause in a lost battle, Weasley – probably for the sake of your boyfriend (can you see me rolling my eyes? Because I am. Oh, how I am rolling them!).

P.S. - Oh please, do tell what distorted ways of humiliation that dirty-poor mind of yours could concoct.

Chucked at Mr. Malfoy’s head, missing it and simply sailing to the desk top in front of him:

Harry is not my boyfriend, you albino reptile! And the causes I choose to fight for are never lost, no matter what those short-sighted eyes of yours may see. I fight for what is right and therefore I will never lose, unlike you.

P.S.: Spanking is not a dirty word.

Thrown by Mr. Malfoy across the classroom in the direction of Miss Weasley, landing an aisle before the one she occupied, and salvage of which was spotted by the keen eyes of Professor McGonagall and prompted another night of detention for the Gryffindor Princess as well:

Well, the excessive groping and the sloppily awkward kisses kind of threw me off (can you see me rolling my eyes again? Because I’m also smirking!). And of course your bloody causes are lost! You follow foolish people who follow foolish values which sprung from foolish beliefs that all people are equal and deserve equal things.

People aren’t equal, Weasley. People are different. That is actually what makes us so damn interesting. You are familiar with this whole “Individualism” concept? This is just the ugly side of that coin.

P.S. – Please, Weasley, tell me you didn’t mean what I’m dreading to think you might have.

Appeared prancing around Mr. Malfoy’s desk, dancing out of his reaching fingers for a few minutes before aggravating the senior Slytherin enough for him to thwart it fiercely with a paperweight:

Your ‘excessive groping’ was actually a brotherly hug. And that the awk the kiss thi that thing at the Great Hall at breakfast was an unfortunate accident! He never meant for it to happen, he just sort of missed my cheek. Things happen! He’s like a brother to me, you big perverted idiot! Would you knowingly try to kiss your sister?! I didn’t think so!

Just because people are different doesn’t mean they are not equal and deserve equal chances and treatment! It is just like a stinking, hair-sleeking, people-hating Slytherin to think up something like that! “People are different, so they’re not equal”? That’s dragon dung and you know it, Malfoy!

P.S.: That’s for me to know and you to wonder forever.

Levitated onto Miss Weasley’s desk where a sketch of a badly drawn boy rolling his eyes proceeded to replay itself at least a dozen times before the charm wore off:

‘Brotherly hug’ my well-bred arse (refer to the sketch for the accompanying facial-expression). I can spot a frustrated bloke when I see one. And, ‘that thing’? Does Potter know you’re referring to his torrid attempts at wooing as ‘that thing’? Because if he did, I bet a whole shiny Galleon it would break his little bespectacled heart into tiny irreparable pieces. Can I be the one to tell him?

Oh yadda yadda, every person is a very special flower bud, glowing in its own very special light, spewing very special specialness. Did it take you long to think up those clever insults, Weasley? I think I could actually hear your grey cells strain under the pressure. I cannot fight such witty retorts, I relent.

P.S. – Take it easy with the exclamation marks. I think you almost punctured the parchment with that last dot! ………… See, like that.

P.S.S. – If you really think I would waste my valuable time wondering about anything that concerns you or your kind, you are greatly mistaken, Weasel.

Appeared atop of Mr. Malfoy’s desk, adorned with an illustration of a girl with waving long hair smacking a taller boy with sleeked-back hair with what appears to be a steak:

You are disgusting, Malfoy. Of course you would think an innocent accident to be something so… wrong! And no, I don’t say there’s something wrong with Harry, it is just that what you suggest is preposterous and quite appalling. I may have had a tiny awkward crush on him when I was tiny and awkward myself, but that was years ago and please do me a favor shut up!

And Harry sure as hell doesn’t look at me that way, so stop with the insinuations. He sees me just like he had always seen me – his little surrogate sister – and quite frankly, I am happy with the situation. The last thing I need right now is being constantly watched by his soulful puppy-eyes and scrutinized by my brother.

[The last sentence was so vigorously scribbled over and struck out, that Mr. Malfoy had to perform at least a dozen Clearing Charms on the parchment before finally deciphering the words. Words, which inadvertently brought a smirk onto his face.]

I’ll use exclamation marks as much as I want to! And if I want, I’ll puncture the parchment repeatedly as well!

PS: My kind? Malfoy, you are practically begging for a whooping!

Carelessly slipped into Miss Weasley’s backpack by Mr. Malfoy on his way out of the classroom at the end of their mutual detention session. Later that evening, discovered by Miss Weasley sticking out of her Potions essay:

Well, well, well. Who knew the littlest Weasley, Gryffindor’s Princess and the former president of Saint Potter’s Stalkers club was harboring a deeply hidden dislike for her previously glorified “Hero” (don’t think I’ve forgotten that Valentine, chit). So comforting to find out even his friends can’t stand him (you guessed right – I am smirking again).

I wonder what was it that earned Potter your aversion.

P.S. – As long as you’ll be using your spatula, I might be intrigued.

P.S.S. – A steak? You draw yourself hitting me with a steak?!

At the very bottom of the parchment – since the entirety of it was filled with various scribbles, leaving absolutely no vacant room – Miss Weasley had found a tiny additional jotting, as if added as an afterthought:

Write you next detention.