She was bored. So painfully, painfully bored. She'd got a book from Flourish and Blotts on painting wizard portraits just in case the portraits themselves couldn't help, but in the hopes that she would never need it. No such luck, alas.
Reading at home, however, posed a small problem; whenever she got to reading it, she fell asleep! Truth be told, at Hogwarts, she had always assumed that she disliked reading simply because the subject matter of the book wasn't at all interesting, or because what she read would never be applicable to real life, but that theory didn't hold up to her present case. This would be applicable to real life; in fact, it was needed. Still, there was nothing for it. She wanted to pitch it out the window through which she was looking, and set it aflame. Why couldn't they have invented a book to which you could speak and which would simply give you the answer?
The voice pierced through her thoughts, surprising Tracey who quickly turned to the speaker. "Oh! Oliver. Hi." Oliver Wood, very sexy Quidditch player who, for some unfathomable reason, dated and lived with her cousin, Jonathan. "Would you care to sit down? Join me." And save me from this wretched book, she thought, as she slammed it shut.