Disclaimer: If I were JKR, I wouldn't waste my time writing something in
fanfiction prose...I'd put my ideas into the next book...
A/N: I think I've got something...watch for it in this chapter ;)
Chapter Three: The Unusual
Matters in the Transfiguration classroom were seemingly the usual. At least that was what Minerva thought the first time she looked up and stopped fixing her lesson plan and other school papers while she waited for the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins to finish the seatwork she had assigned to them.
Compared to any other classroom, hers was very well lit, with towering windows framed with dusty gold. The floor was a matching shade of brown, with small crevices in the stone. The blackboard was half-filled with the history of the spell they were taking up, complete with the exact wrist movements needed in waving one's wand.
Although normally an obsessive-compulsive person, Minerva's desk was quite filled with more bundles of parchment than usual. She had only managed to separate the test material for the seventh years from those of the fifth years when she spared another look at her class.
A frown appeared on her face, as she watched one Draco Malfoy, chin resting on his hand and with a nonchalant look on his face. On his other hand he held his quill, with which he seemingly doodled on his parchment. His reference book lay unopened in front of him, unlike those of his batchmates, who were busy jotting down as much information as possible from the book's pages.
Minerva's lip thinned, and she stood up and walked over to Draco, who, once again, showed contrast to those around him, who raised their heads the moment Minerva left her desk. "Mr. Malfoy, I would greatly appreciate it if you presented the work you've done. After all it seems like you don't think you need to sweat out doing the research?"
Draco regarded her with a small, surprised look at first, and the professor glimpsed a pair of eyes with dark circles underneath and a certain red haziness in them. Draco handed her the parchment and she scanned it quickly enough.
"Mr. Malfoy, unless you want only a half-term grade for this school year, I suggest you put more than half the facts and data about this spell." The boy stared at her, and then at his wand. He picked it up with a fair, slender hand. "I don't need to, Professor. The spell's easy enough."
"Which is exactly what you said in your fist year when you turned a piece of blue cloth into a huge bee instead of a piece of red cloth." Draco raised his eyebrows. "But professor, that was a long time ago. And surely my marks during the last test you gave us proved to you I know most of the things we are taking up already?"
Minerva opened her mouth only to hear the sound of the bell. Her nostrils flared, a sure sign of her irritation, but she decided to let it go. She would just have to talk to Severus about the boy.
She frowned at the rest of the class, who had been keen on her conversation with Draco. "Alright now, I shall see you all tomorrow, with a complete, no nonsense essay on this spell. Read pages nine hundred fifty-six to nine hundred eighty-seven. Next time I want you to pair up with someone to practice this spell. The outcome will be graded. Now hurry along to your next class."
Draco did not even have the patience to wait for Crabbe and Goyle. He marched right out with the usual proud gait of his, and was a mite bit pleased at the adoring looks other students gave him. However, a voice in his head reminded him he had been lucky to worm himself out of McGonagall's obvious wrath.
He shuddered. Charms had been the first class that morning, and something strange had happened. He had waved his wand to make a handful of leaves twirl in a complicated pattern, which was what Flitwick had assigned them to practice. He had said the spell audibly, waved his wand correctly, and concentrated.
He did it three times...but the leaves had remained there, lying on the tabletop. It had taken him five more attempts before the leaves started to move awkwardly from side to side, but that was all they did.
Before breakfast, he had summoned his books from underneath his bed, but it had taken him a full ten minutes before he managed to accomplish the spell: Oh yes, the books came...but crawling like snails one-by- one onto the common room where he stood, agitated.
Before McGonagall had even caught him a while ago, he had tried to do a spell while she wasn't looking. He had tried to turn his set of books into something simple: a plate of pancakes. They had learned that all the way in second year, and it had only taken him a short time to learn it then. However, when he tried, all he had succeeded in doing was turning the front cover of the first book on the pile red from green.
He glared at his wand as he marched to History of Magic. 'It must be this blasted thing. It MUST be.'
***@***
Harry looked up from the steaming cauldron in front of him. The potion had a sticky sweet smell and required maximum heat, therefore the atmosphere in the dungeon was heavier and drier than its usual freezing one since everyone had their fires blazing and sizzling as much as they could.
In between measuring his ingredients and stirring the potion, he had felt himself sweat not only from the heat, but also from fierce curiosity. Instead of sneering and insulting the works of the Gryffindors and practically worshipping the works of the Slytherins at the latest potion they were learning, Professor Snape had remained seated behind his table, arms crossed. His alert black eyes, though, were focused on only one person.
Draco.
He spared a look at the seemingly brooding professor as he measured a cup of crushed beetle wings and quickly looked away when Snape's eyes flickered to his face. He quickly resumed making his concoction as the Potions Master stood up and strode rather quickly to where Harry was.
He was just waiting for the harsh remarks to fall from the man's mouth when something crashed on the floor behind Snape. Everyone whirled around to find Draco, a startled look on his face as he looked down at a broken bottle of what used to be liquidized boar dung concentrate.
Harry thought he caught a glimpse of Snape raising an eyebrow at the boy before speaking. "Accidents happen." The professor said smoothly. "Draco, clean it up then resume making your potion." He looked around at the Slytherins and Gryffindors and frowned at the latter, which stared with contempt. If one of them had broken anything, it would have meant fifteen points for their carelessness. Meanwhile, Harry watched at the corner of his eye as Draco reached for a rag and started to clean the mess on the floor, crouching and avoiding the glass. Snape stayed close, a lone figure between Draco and Harry.
"What in the world do you think you're doing, Draco?" Snape's voice was a cold, low whisper that told Harry the statement was meant for Draco alone. Still, he strained his ears. Draco's voice was just as low. "Cleaning up my mess; isn't that what you told me to do, sir?"
"I meant with your wand, you little know-it-all."
Harry began to stir his potion as an excuse to be able to look up from arranging his ingredients. He only needed to lean back a little to see Draco's face, which was clouded with mystery. Draco shook his head just a little bit; Harry would have missed it if he weren't watching carefully. The Slytherin's eyes widened a centimeter. Snape's usually stiff, poised back and shoulders moved in a startled manner for a mere moment, and then went back to their normal position. "See me after class, Draco."
He whirled around and Harry quickly busied himself in making his potion, his mind still contemplating what he had just seen and heard.
***@***
Severus regarded the boy in front of him carefully after everyone else had gone. Potions had been the last class for the day.
"It's not the wand, Draco."
The boy's eyes met his just like they did so many years ago.
"I know; it's me, isn't it?"
A/N:
Ah. There you have it. I'm rather proud of it, but I still want to hear your comments and suggestions. Help me make this a good fic; I'd appreciate your reviews. See you all next time!!!
Oh, yeah...this isn't slash, by the way. *Evil laughter*
A/N: I think I've got something...watch for it in this chapter ;)
Chapter Three: The Unusual
Matters in the Transfiguration classroom were seemingly the usual. At least that was what Minerva thought the first time she looked up and stopped fixing her lesson plan and other school papers while she waited for the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins to finish the seatwork she had assigned to them.
Compared to any other classroom, hers was very well lit, with towering windows framed with dusty gold. The floor was a matching shade of brown, with small crevices in the stone. The blackboard was half-filled with the history of the spell they were taking up, complete with the exact wrist movements needed in waving one's wand.
Although normally an obsessive-compulsive person, Minerva's desk was quite filled with more bundles of parchment than usual. She had only managed to separate the test material for the seventh years from those of the fifth years when she spared another look at her class.
A frown appeared on her face, as she watched one Draco Malfoy, chin resting on his hand and with a nonchalant look on his face. On his other hand he held his quill, with which he seemingly doodled on his parchment. His reference book lay unopened in front of him, unlike those of his batchmates, who were busy jotting down as much information as possible from the book's pages.
Minerva's lip thinned, and she stood up and walked over to Draco, who, once again, showed contrast to those around him, who raised their heads the moment Minerva left her desk. "Mr. Malfoy, I would greatly appreciate it if you presented the work you've done. After all it seems like you don't think you need to sweat out doing the research?"
Draco regarded her with a small, surprised look at first, and the professor glimpsed a pair of eyes with dark circles underneath and a certain red haziness in them. Draco handed her the parchment and she scanned it quickly enough.
"Mr. Malfoy, unless you want only a half-term grade for this school year, I suggest you put more than half the facts and data about this spell." The boy stared at her, and then at his wand. He picked it up with a fair, slender hand. "I don't need to, Professor. The spell's easy enough."
"Which is exactly what you said in your fist year when you turned a piece of blue cloth into a huge bee instead of a piece of red cloth." Draco raised his eyebrows. "But professor, that was a long time ago. And surely my marks during the last test you gave us proved to you I know most of the things we are taking up already?"
Minerva opened her mouth only to hear the sound of the bell. Her nostrils flared, a sure sign of her irritation, but she decided to let it go. She would just have to talk to Severus about the boy.
She frowned at the rest of the class, who had been keen on her conversation with Draco. "Alright now, I shall see you all tomorrow, with a complete, no nonsense essay on this spell. Read pages nine hundred fifty-six to nine hundred eighty-seven. Next time I want you to pair up with someone to practice this spell. The outcome will be graded. Now hurry along to your next class."
Draco did not even have the patience to wait for Crabbe and Goyle. He marched right out with the usual proud gait of his, and was a mite bit pleased at the adoring looks other students gave him. However, a voice in his head reminded him he had been lucky to worm himself out of McGonagall's obvious wrath.
He shuddered. Charms had been the first class that morning, and something strange had happened. He had waved his wand to make a handful of leaves twirl in a complicated pattern, which was what Flitwick had assigned them to practice. He had said the spell audibly, waved his wand correctly, and concentrated.
He did it three times...but the leaves had remained there, lying on the tabletop. It had taken him five more attempts before the leaves started to move awkwardly from side to side, but that was all they did.
Before breakfast, he had summoned his books from underneath his bed, but it had taken him a full ten minutes before he managed to accomplish the spell: Oh yes, the books came...but crawling like snails one-by- one onto the common room where he stood, agitated.
Before McGonagall had even caught him a while ago, he had tried to do a spell while she wasn't looking. He had tried to turn his set of books into something simple: a plate of pancakes. They had learned that all the way in second year, and it had only taken him a short time to learn it then. However, when he tried, all he had succeeded in doing was turning the front cover of the first book on the pile red from green.
He glared at his wand as he marched to History of Magic. 'It must be this blasted thing. It MUST be.'
***@***
Harry looked up from the steaming cauldron in front of him. The potion had a sticky sweet smell and required maximum heat, therefore the atmosphere in the dungeon was heavier and drier than its usual freezing one since everyone had their fires blazing and sizzling as much as they could.
In between measuring his ingredients and stirring the potion, he had felt himself sweat not only from the heat, but also from fierce curiosity. Instead of sneering and insulting the works of the Gryffindors and practically worshipping the works of the Slytherins at the latest potion they were learning, Professor Snape had remained seated behind his table, arms crossed. His alert black eyes, though, were focused on only one person.
Draco.
He spared a look at the seemingly brooding professor as he measured a cup of crushed beetle wings and quickly looked away when Snape's eyes flickered to his face. He quickly resumed making his concoction as the Potions Master stood up and strode rather quickly to where Harry was.
He was just waiting for the harsh remarks to fall from the man's mouth when something crashed on the floor behind Snape. Everyone whirled around to find Draco, a startled look on his face as he looked down at a broken bottle of what used to be liquidized boar dung concentrate.
Harry thought he caught a glimpse of Snape raising an eyebrow at the boy before speaking. "Accidents happen." The professor said smoothly. "Draco, clean it up then resume making your potion." He looked around at the Slytherins and Gryffindors and frowned at the latter, which stared with contempt. If one of them had broken anything, it would have meant fifteen points for their carelessness. Meanwhile, Harry watched at the corner of his eye as Draco reached for a rag and started to clean the mess on the floor, crouching and avoiding the glass. Snape stayed close, a lone figure between Draco and Harry.
"What in the world do you think you're doing, Draco?" Snape's voice was a cold, low whisper that told Harry the statement was meant for Draco alone. Still, he strained his ears. Draco's voice was just as low. "Cleaning up my mess; isn't that what you told me to do, sir?"
"I meant with your wand, you little know-it-all."
Harry began to stir his potion as an excuse to be able to look up from arranging his ingredients. He only needed to lean back a little to see Draco's face, which was clouded with mystery. Draco shook his head just a little bit; Harry would have missed it if he weren't watching carefully. The Slytherin's eyes widened a centimeter. Snape's usually stiff, poised back and shoulders moved in a startled manner for a mere moment, and then went back to their normal position. "See me after class, Draco."
He whirled around and Harry quickly busied himself in making his potion, his mind still contemplating what he had just seen and heard.
***@***
Severus regarded the boy in front of him carefully after everyone else had gone. Potions had been the last class for the day.
"It's not the wand, Draco."
The boy's eyes met his just like they did so many years ago.
"I know; it's me, isn't it?"
A/N:
Ah. There you have it. I'm rather proud of it, but I still want to hear your comments and suggestions. Help me make this a good fic; I'd appreciate your reviews. See you all next time!!!
Oh, yeah...this isn't slash, by the way. *Evil laughter*