A Matter of Misunderstanding
A/N: This takes place in eighth year. Slash, Harry X Draco, One-Shot
Summary: McGonagall has a zero tolerance policy for fighting, particularly when it comes to Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I just like to torture her characters.
Headmistress McGonagall walked briskly down the corridor. The heels of her boots made purposeful little clicks on the grey stone floor. Just before she arrived at the entrance to her chambers, she heard the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle. She sighed. After such a long day, the last thing she wanted to do was discipline more students, but it couldn't be helped, especially if they were fighting. Tensions had only just started to subside after the rebuilding, but it wouldn't take much to make them flare up again.
As she followed the source of the sound, she heard the scrape of shoes against stone and assorted grunts of exertion. She quickened her pace, but didn't call out to announce her presence. She wanted the satisfaction of catching the recalcitrant students in the act. Rounding the corner of the hallway, she stopped dead in her tracks. One Mr. Harry Potter was sitting astride none other than Mr. Draco Malfoy, at the same time pinning his arms to the ground by the wrists. Malfoy was flat on his back, squirming and writhing in an obvious attempt to throw off his assailant. Potter's eyes glittered wildly as he restrained the other boy. His spectacles had been knocked off in the fight and lay a few feet away next to a pile of discarded schoolwork. Both of them were flushed and out of breath, with various bruises and marks. Judging by the state of their clothing, rips and missing buttons, this had been going on for quite some time. Was that a bite mark on Mr. Malfoy's neck?
"Gentlemen!" Her voice was not loud, but authoritative all the same. "You will cease fighting at once and explain yourselves."
Two heads snapped to attention at the sound. Both Potter and Malfoy had the decency to look extraordinarily guilty at having been caught. They sprung apart and leaned against the wall, chests heaving. Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, trying to straighten it. "But we weren't -" He was cut off a well placed elbow to the ribs on behalf of Potter.
McGonagall had had enough. She held them immobile with a wave of her wand. "I am thoroughly ashamed of the both of you. When we brought the eighth years back after the war, I knew we would have difficulties. Housing children of former Death Eaters beside orphans of those lost at the hands of the Dark Lord was going to be a recipe for certain disaster, everyone told me." She stepped forward with a ferocious look. "I argued on your behalf. I said that this school had the opportunity to be a beacon, to show the rest of the wizarding world how to forgive and forget. If we had any chance at moving past this horrible war, it would reside with our children and their extraordinary capacity for resiliency and forgiveness." Both boys cowered under her glare, trying unsuccessfully to shrink back further into the wall.
"Imagine how disappointed I am to realize that you, examples for the younger students and the very symbols of the conflict itself, cannot put aside your differences long enough to walk down a corridor with civility!" She waved her wand again, releasing them from their captivity. "What do you have to say for yourselves? Give me one reason why I shouldn't just expel you both right now."
Green eyes met grey in a silent conversation. Potter looked oddly owlish, his eyes somehow larger without his customary frames. He looked back at the irate Professor and slumped his shoulders. He gave Malfoy a barely perceptible nod.
Malfoy looked at him again, as if to ask if he was certain, but he didn't waver. Malfoy spoke up first. He straightened, trying to muster as much dignity as he could under the circumstances. Scarlet stained his cheeks. "We weren't actually fighting, Professor."
McGonagall crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. "Given the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I find that hard to believe. If you weren't fighting, how do you explain yourselves?"
Rather than saying anything, Harry simply took Draco's hand. He threaded their fingers together and stared back defiantly. McGonagall looked puzzled for a moment, waiting for him to speak. There was simply no way they could deny their actions; the mussed hair, ripped clothes, bite marks, compromising posit…
She flushed. "Carry on, gentlemen."
A/N: Thanks for reading! This is a one-shot outtake from a larger story, A Matter of Convenience, which will post soon.
