Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the storyline of it. That all belongs to the brilliant J.K. Rowling. However, the rest: the plot, and all my characters, really are mine. I own those. But that's about it.
A/N: please forgive all of my typos, spelling errors, grammatical mistakes, etc. I'm in a rush, and none of those skills were perfect, anyways. Also, please R & R!
Chapter 1
Closing the door to her room as she entered the Head's Common Room, she pointed her wand at the door, locking it so that only she, Hermione Jane Granger, could open it. Sighing, she let out a yell. "Malfoy, where the bloody hell are you? We have to patrol the halls in two minutes! Get down here, now!!" She heard him groan, then later, a door slam. After that, a slim, tall figure appeared in the opposite doorway.
"Let's get this over with, OK?" he spat. "I don't know how filth like you could ever have become Head Girl. Oh, wait; you're the best friend of the Golden Boy, who could forget? Since they couldn't have him do it, he's to busy saving the bloody world, and Weaselbee isn't smart enough, they figured they would let someone deserving -me- have the position, and give the other to well, you. Honestly, I should have gone to Durmstrang. But no, mother had to pu-" he was cut off.
"Malfoy, you're rambling and frankly, I don't care why. But don't insult my friends, or, I assure you, you will not be so conceited with your looks any longer. Am I clear?" Hermione took out her wand, waving it menacingly. "Why should I listen to filth like you?" Malfoy sneered.
"Because if you do not, then I will be forced to take House Points away, as will any other staff member who happens to be passing by. Since we know somewhat of your past history, we will be keeping a very close eye on you two. Professor Dumbledore and the other professors, including myself, all feel that you two are the most deserving of the Head Boy and Girl titles. Please, don't make us remove your badges. Understood?" came a clipped voice.
Oh, shit! McGonagall! thought Draco. "Thank you, Professor. We'll be sure to behave ourselves," Hermione smiled sweetly, "won't we, Malfoy?" "Of course, Mu-Granger, why on Earth wouldn't we?" Draco forced himself to say.
"Well, then. I must be off. 5 house points to Slytherin for Mr. Malfoy's civility, and 10 points to Gryffindor for Ms. Granger's display of immense self-control in not hexing Mr. Malfoy. Which, Ms. Granger, is something that I am sure I could have done in your situation at your age, at the moment. Good night, the both of you." and with that, McGonagall walked away, with a satisfied smile on her face.
They wouldn't actually get along, but they would have a facade. Which would soon be their excuse, when they fell in love. Oh, if only they knew what the staff had planned for the seventh-years. Such match-making had not occured in, well, ever. She chuckled to herself, and opened her door to her office. Flicking her wand, she had herself a roaring fire. Another flick, she had a steaming mug of soothing tea, with milk and sugar.
She removed her shoes and spectacles, her hair from its bun, and put her feet up on the coffee table in front of her. Slowly, Minerva began to relax. Until, "Mother! Oh, you'll never guess what's happened! He proposed to me! Finally! After all these years, Severus Snape finally proposed to me, and I said yes!" Minerva winced at the sound of her daughter's voice as it came through the window. Window? Yes, window; her daughter, Rowena Helene McGonagall was on a broom, yelling at her. Sighing, she got up from her chaise-lounge and transfigured the window into French double-doors. Opening them right as her daughter flew through.
"Honestly, dear. How many more clever entrances can you have to entering your mother's quarters? Wait; why are you here at Hogwarts, darling? I'm always happy to see you, but right now I'm in the middle of preparing to meddle in the love-lives of my favorite seventh-years. And if I mess this up, then they'll be miserable forever. What with the war and everything, everyone's all muddled up. Now tell me, were you visiting with Severus just now?" Minerva inquired of her daughter.
"Of course. No, I haven't quit the Ministry. However, I have been transferred. Because you insisted on my taking all those language courses, I am now the official inter-Ministry translator. Actually, I'm the head of International Ministry Relations. I was on my way to deliver a message to Dumbledore from Scrimgeour, who wants to ask Dumbledore's opinion of the latest message from the Ministers of France, Spain, Germany and Hungary. Oh, and the Russian Prime Minister wants to "borrow" Norbert, Hagrid's Hungarian Horntail, from England. Even though Norbert has been donated by Hagrid to the Romanian government, the Romanians want to know of England's opinion before they accept. Because Russia's hosting the TriWizard Tournament in 3 years, and it's got to be a smashing success. Now, can I have a cup of that tea, please? It looks lovely and warming, while I am freezing. I was helping Harry Potter train for his match against Slytherin out on the Quidditch pitch. Would you believe that Severus gives Draco Malfoy a note to give to whatever house team's captain that's using the pitch when the Slytherins want to practice? And it says, and I quote, "Please kindly remove yourself, your team in its entirety, and all your belongings from the Quidditch pitch so that my House, Slytherin, may practice for our upcoming match. If you do not comply, your entire team will be sentenced with detention with Mr. Filch for the rest of the term. Severus Snape." And Harry told me that Draco's got a note every time, and this has been occuring ever since Harry's been playing Quidditch, which is every year for seven years! So now I have to visit Severus again. I just stopped by to see you for a bit. How are you really doing, mother?" Rowena stopped chattering for a minute to drink her tea and catch her breath.
"Quite well, darling, thank's for letting me answer. Now, that's not fair. I'll have to give Mr. Potter a note to use to kick Slytherin House off of the Quidditch pitch when the Gryffindors "need to practice." Perhaps after the Gryffindors have been kicked off, and during the Slytherin rightful playing time? I typically don't approve of revenge. But this isn't revenge; it's following the Golden Rule. Fight fire with fire? No, indeed. After that, no. Now, I'll pay that visit to Severus with you, dear. I'm not fighting fire with fire, I'm fighting Slytherin fire with Gryffindor water. And we'll see which proves the victor, hmm? Come now, darling; we've got the longest walk to the dungeons on the other side of the castle."