He was quite sure he was going to kill himself.

Antonin squeezed himself into the windowsill that looked out into the courtyard, shoes pressed against the stone of the opposite side, and back curled up uncomfortably. He had been on his way to the library, because whether or not anyone believed it, he actually did care about his grades and the upcoming N.E.W.T.s he didn't have the money to live frivolously off, and no matter what...acquaintances he managed to have after he left Hogwarts, it still wouldn't be satisfactory enough to support himself. His sister seemed to be doing fine, but Antonin wanted nothing to do with her type of business--maybe he did want to succeed on his own, but he was content with people thinking he didn't give a shit.

But, he was definitely going to end up killing himself if June didn't come faster. This Saturday was the final quidditch match, and while he'd been less than lackluster as a captain, something had shaken him up enough to drive his team into the ground. But now with Sloper's dad and the lack of a starting chaser (no, he was not allowing himself to think about Regulus, he couldn't let his mind wander in that direction, so Zach's dad was the biggest thing right now), Antonin was beginning to dread the upcoming match.

Right, morbid thoughts were quite counterproductive for a nap. His body had literally decided it could not make the trek down to the dungeons, and if anyone so much as brushed his shoulder as they passed, Antonin was going to end up---well. It wouldn't end well.