.
Silver on brown.
Cold, unbending steel on soft, immovable earth.
Rebellious student against stern professor.
There was a Quidditch match in three weeks. Perhaps she could ban him from it? But no. His father would never allow such a thing, and it would just end up undermining her authority. Something that the boy could look to later on and say, 'She's just an old Professor. McGonagall can't do anything to me.'
She sighed inwardly, refusing to allow this spoiled child to believe he held the upper hand. Calmly, she stared up at this student, the silence in the otherwise empty room stretching to an almost unbearable point. She would wait as long as it took, however.
It was amazing how one's patience grew when becoming a teacher. Minerva had no idea she was this tolerant, until it had been put to the test.
And there were no words to express how far this particular child had tested it.
Finally, the pale boy gave in, rolling his eyes skyward, as if McGonagall had never been worth his time in the first place.
"How long are we going to be here? We both know you aren't going to do anything." Malfoy finally broke the silence, crossing his arms and smirking brashly.
How she wanted to rip that smile off his face.
"I believe you're a bit confused as to who has the power here." She almost hissed, standing from behind her desk to stand over the blonde, praying that she would retain this little nook of advantage until Malfoy graduated later that year.
She might have been imagining it, but she could've sworn that that wretch child muttered, "We'll see."
She said nothing to that, instead taking a deep breath to calm herself. The insolence. "One more foot out of line, Mr. Malfoy. One more display in my classroom, and I'll be forced to--"
"To what?" Malfoy almost laughed.
Her face somehow grew even more severe. "I believe you're aware of the Quidditch match later this month."
His face grew pale, and he didn't even bother to hide the sudden surge of apprehension. "You can't do that."
Desperately wishing to throw the boy's earlier comments back in his face, but knowing it was beneath a teacher, she just sat back down. "One more foot out of line, and we'll find out."
Lucuis Malfoy smirked, growing cocky once more. "My father won't allow it. This is what, your first year teaching? You'll be in the unemployment line before you can finish saying 'suspended.'"
Minerva was quite tempted to reach over the table and strangle the brat.
"I believe you're over-stepping your boundaries." She breathed, deathly quiet. "You either need to learn to control your temper, or learn when to keep your thoughts to yourself."
Lucuis' enraged sneer twisted his entire face, making him appear much older then he was. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the door flying open, and a few clumsy foot falls.
"Malf--" The dark haired child stopped short, and paled even more. "Oh. Sorry,"
"It's alright, Mr. Snape." Minerva said easily, turning back to the parchments strewn across her desk. "Mr. Malfoy and I are quite finished."
Lucuis was sure that he had won. With a smirk that was one inch from slicing his face in half, he all but strut from the room, turning to his friend. "What was it you wanted?" He asked, his voice the never changing, bored, drawl.
"Wait a moment, Malfoy." She said, then turned to the other student. "I need to speak with you."
Snape looked mildly annoyed at this, probably wondering how in an innocent search for his friend, he'd gotten roped into a grilling from a teacher.
Malfoy gave him a confident grin, though, as he strolled by, clearly showing the other that this professor was a pushover.
Minerva had to restrain herself from picking up her large, metal paperweight and throwing it at the little monster as he left the room.
Snape approached the desk hesitantly, as if McGonagall was going to attack -him- instead. She sighed, and forced herself to calm as the door to the classroom closed.
"I feel very strongly about the point I am about to make, so please forgive me if I'm a little blunt." She began, somewhat surprised at the startling difference between the silver irises of before, and the near black irises of the teenager facing her.
Snape somehow managed to look even more uncomfortable, now wondering what in the world Lucuis had gotten him into.
"Lucuis Malfoy is not a person that I would want anyone to be influenced by."
He looked shocked. "You're not allowed to say that about a student," He nearly sputtered.
"And that is how strongly I feel about it." McGonagall continued somewhat bleakly. "He cares only about himself. He does not appreciate anything that I'm sure he has you doing for him." His face turned sour. "He uses people like commodities and doesn't give a second thought to them once he's finished."
Snape backed away from the desk slightly. "And what would you know?"
Not really up for another battle of wills with a hardheaded adolescent, she reared up on the subject somewhat. Instead, she sighed, letting her exhaustion show. "Please just trust me. I know. I'm not asking you to avoid him; merely . . . keep in mind his true objectives."
The boy looked like he was sucking on something sour and trying to hide it (Minerva should know, enough students had tried to hide their lemonhead sweets from her during class).
"Right." He said, not bothering to cover his hostility. "I'll keep that in mind."
And in that one sentence, she knew that she had lost him for good.
She often thought back on that crucial day, so many, many years ago, the day she had tried so hard to save a soul, only to push him over completely to the dark side.
It was these times that McGonagall would have to restrain herself from picking up the heavy, metal paperweight and knocking herself out.
So many mistakes made in seven simple, well-meaning sentences.
Minerva McGonagall had burned the day in her mind, as a reminder, something that everyone should learn.
Do not meddle in affairs that you will only mess up royally.
How often she thought back to this occasion really should have prepared her when, as it almost always does, history started reoccurring . . .
Silver on brown.
Chilly, inflexible steel on muted, steady earth.
Rebellious student against stern professor.
Again.
There was a Quidditch match in about two weeks.
Perhaps she could ban him from it?
She sighed inwardly, refusing to give in to the childish game of a staring contest and turned to the parchments littering her desk. "You know why I kept you after class."
He shrugged carelessly. "And I'm waiting for you to do something."
The differences were subtle, but still made almost all the difference in the world. Pointed, defined features where his father's were stern, blocky and solid. Larger, more open eyes, where his father's were merely slits on the best days. Quite a bit shorter, but then again, his father was seventeen when this conversation took place, and he was only fifteen.
Setting her quill to the side and making eye contact, now that it wasn't a childish competition, she started, "You are very well aware of the rules in my classroom, Mr. Malfoy. You decided to pay no heed to them. I'm not as wide-eyed as to ask you why, but I am going to make sure that you face up to the consequences."
"That is what you're here for." Draco Malfoy scoffed, appearing very amused at his own wit.
She took a breath to continue, then stopped, her face perplexed, staring up at his gray eyes. Something was wrong. Something that should have been there . . .wasn't. Something was missing . . . it was unnerving. So unnerving, she really could not continue until she figured out what 'it' was.
What was it?
It hit her hard.
This was not the same situation as before, but oddly, exactly the same. There was no one she had to save from the child standing in front of her. There was no one who needed to be protected at all . . .
Except him. From Lucuis Malfoy.
Again.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she quickly snatched one of the many empty parchments from the left side of her desk. She scribbled down the note harshly and turned again to the boy, who was now looking extremely nervous at the sudden change.
"Is . . . something wrong?" He asked, looking hesitant to show worry or concern for the Headmaster of Gryffindor. He must've decided that it affected him enough, because he continued calmly. "Did you just realize something?" He prodded.
"Your punishment is simple." She said, and handed him the note. "Take this to Professor Snape."
He took it, read it over (for some reason, it did not occur to him that this was the slightest bit rude), and looked back at her as if she were completely mad.
"That's it?" He asked. "No apologies to that Ravenclaw? Nothing?"
"That's it." She said, almost chipper now. "Tell him that I thought it was best that he handle this situation."
Draco, who was now sure that McGonagall had gone completely off her rocker, but not about to press his good luck, started for the door. "Right. Sounds perfectly fair to me. I'm off, then."
The door closed and he quickly reread the note, wondering if there was something that he could've missed . . .
Severus--
I feel strongly that one should learn from past mistakes. Please, do not allow him to ruin another life, as you know, he cares only about himself. He uses people like commodities and doesn't give a second thought to them once he's finished.
Please trust me when I say that you should take care of this. I do not want to foul this up.
Minerva
Draco was sure the 'him' she was referring to was, of course, himself. But he honestly did not see how cursing the bloody girl's hair to change green could really ruin her life, or was using her has a commodity.
It was long, and very wordy, but he could honestly find no double meanings.
He wondered how long it would take Dumbledore to realize that McGonagall had gone insane.
.
a.n: out of all my other stories, this is my favorite. please, please tell me what you think of it. ^__^