Reaching Maturity

Disclaimer: standard stuff – not mine, never will be, making no money from this

A/N: as of Tuesday Nov 9th, this fic is COMPLETELY typed up!!! Which leaves me with more time to write more!! (But of course, I will be good and do all of my essays and exam revision first!)

A/N 2: placement is brilliant!!!!!

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Chapter 5: DADA With Professor Figg

The next day there was a definite air of fear and gloom throughout the whole of Hogwarts. It was made worse by the removal of all the Hallowe'en decorations and the black, angry sky outside that dumped large raindrops by the bucketload on the school and grounds. There was no opportunity for any sort of Quidditch practice, partly because of the appalling weather and also because Madam Hooch had gone down to London for more supplies. Dumbledore had announced at breakfast that morning that there were to be no Quidditch practices unless a member of staff was willing to supervise – and, in this weather, none were forthcoming.

Arabella Figg, it transpired, was teaching the seventh-year Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson that morning. Although Lupin seemed to be doing most of the teaching, there were some things that Figg knew considerably more about than he did.

She watched the class file in, the room split perfectly down the middle, with Gryffindors on one side and Slytherins on the other. She cleared her throat pointedly and quiet settled on the room. "I understand you have done some work with regard to the Unforgivables in a previous year," she stated in her low, clear voice.

A ripple went around the class. What was she going to do with them?

She smiled. "I'm not going to put you under the Imperius again," she reassured them kindly, and they visibly relaxed. "You can defend yourself against two of these curses, if you are prepared and are heading into a situation where you may be facing them." Her smile disappeared. "Unfortunately, you cannot protect yourself from Avada Kedavra." She scanned the room with her keen eyes. "Does anyone have any ideas regarding how you could protect yourselves?"

Ron put his hand up. "Shields," he said confidently.

"Good. One point to Gryffindor. Now, effective shields are very hard to conjure, so I don't expect any of you to have done it by the end of today's lesson. The shield is invisible, and its purpose is to deflect unfriendly spells thrown in your direction, usually back at the person attempting to curse you. If you reach out, you cannot feel it, but you'll know if it's in place or not." She explained the incantation ('Protego') and demonstrated the wand movement. Even the Slytherins paid close attention to her (though Pansy Parkinson seemed more interested in her nails). After she had finished, she turned to face Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you would like to put my shield to the test with a Jelly-Legs curse?"

Draco stood and sauntered confidently up to the front of the classroom, and placed the curse on the teacher. As the curse hit the shield, purple ripples spread out across it, away from the point of impact – and suddenly Draco was suffering the effects. Figg ended the spell on him with a flick of her wand and he returned to his seat. The class looked suitably impressed. She smiled again. "Your turn now. I will come round and place a hex on each of you in turn. If your shield works, I suffer the effects. If it doesn't, you suffer. Now, begin – yes, Mr. Finnigan?"

"How long do they last?"

"Up to twelve hours, depending on how strong they are," she replied. "Begin."

The next half an hour was filled with seventh-years attempting to create protection shields, with Figg walking around the room correcting them when necessary. Finally, the allotted time was up and she clapped her hands sharply to get their attention. At some point in the last half-hour, Lupin had appeared in the room, specifically to perform counter-curses when it was time to test the shields.

"Miss Patil!"

Parvati walked up to the front of the room and Figg hexed her. The air shimmered for a moment, but Parvati's shield wasn't strong enough to withstand the hex. As Lupin removed the hex, Figg smiled. "Not too bad for a first attempt. Mr. Crabbe!"

Crabbe, Goyle and Neville's shields had not materialised at all. Pansy's shattered the moment the hex hit it, as did those of Dean and Millicent Bulstrode. Seamus, Ron and Hermione's all withstood most of the hex and they were barely affected. Harry and Draco's shields deflected the hex entirely. Harry's shield deflected the hex onto Lupin, providing much amusement for both class and teachers.

"Excellent, both of you! Five points each!" enthused Figg, beaming. Harry and Draco looked at each other, both thinking the same – if Lucius Malfoy were to try anything over the Christmas holidays, there was a strong chance that Draco would be able to withstand it.

Harry raised his hand. "Do shields work if someone tries to hit you?" he asked, fully aware of Draco's glare boring into him. "Physically, I mean."

"No. The shield protects against magical assaults only. They have to be extremely strong to withstand an Unforgivable. Any more questions? No? Homework is to read about shields and make notes. Pages two hundred and four to ten. Also, practise your shield-conjuring. As you practise, you should get better and be able to create an increasingly stronger shield. Professor Lupin will be taking you on Friday. Dismissed."

The class hurried out of the room, bound for the Great Hall for their lunch, joining other students as they headed in the same direction. Draco attempted to hit Neville with joint Leg-Locker and Jelly-Legs curses. Unfortunately for Draco, Neville moved and the spells hit Snape instead. He dropped his books and, arms flailing, grabbed onto the nearest object, which happened to be a suit of armour. Unluckily for Snape, the suit of armour objected to being manhandled in this way, and pulled free of him, clanking away down the corridor and sending the head of Slytherin tumbling to the floor. The crowd of students fell deathly silent. Several people had seen Malfoy perform the curses and even the densest student realised that the curses had not been intended for the teacher.

Snape's face darkened as he forced himself into a sitting position, pushing his dark hair from his face. "Who. Did. That?" he hissed furiously. His dark, piercing eyes scanned the crowd. "The perpetrator does realise that magic should not be used in the corridors, do they not?"

At that moment, McGonagall came round the corner. "What is going on?" she demanded sharply. Then she saw Snape, still sitting on the floor. "Severus?"

Snape's eyes narrowed to slits. "Some idiot decided to hit me with Leg-Locker and Jelly-Legs curses." His upper lip curled into its familiar sneer of contempt. "Oddly enough, I am not laughing."

"It was an accident!" Pansy cried defensively. Draco kicked her hard in the shins and the two teachers turned to look at her. She covered her mouth. "I – I – I mean, it wasn't me…" she spluttered.

A stick hit Draco on the head. "Ouch!" he cried, more startled than hurt.

"Peeves?" growled McGonagall. "Show yourself."

"It was him, Professor," the addressed poltergeist informed the Transfiguration teacher, cackling, as he threw another stick at Draco. "I saw it all."

McGonagall raised one well-marked eyebrow. "I see." She quickly performed the counter-curses and released Snape, who snatched up his books from the floor and swept off down the corridor, causing students in his path to shrink back against the wall. McGonagall turned to Draco. "Come with me, Malfoy," she ordered curtly. Draco knew better than to argue as he followed her to her office, almost running to keep up with her fast stride. He desperately prayed that his father would not be contacted.

McGonagall did not ask him to sit down. "First of all, I am taking ten points from Slytherin for the use of magic in the corridors. Secondly, I am taking another ten off for cursing a teacher – and I don't care if it was accidental or deliberate. I am assuming, though, that you did not intend to hit Professor Snape?" The corners of her mouth twitched slightly, with what might have been amusement.

Draco shook his head. "I meant to hit Longbottom," he muttered, staring at his feet as he spoke. "He moved at the last moment."

"Be that as it may, you still broke a school rule. You will see me here at eight o'clock tomorrow evening for your detention."

Draco looked up at McGonagall, a frantic look in his grey eyes. "Please say you won't tell my father, Professor!" he pleaded desperately. "He already hates me. He'll kill me if he hears about this!"

Privately, McGonagall agreed with him, though she did not let on. "Next time he will be contacted, though, so I advise you to mind the rules more in future. I shall be watching you closely and I will also be speaking to Professor Snape about you. Much more of this, and you will find yourself out of Hogwarts in disgrace."

"Wh – what do you mean?" demanded Draco anxiously.

"I mean," said McGonagall impatiently, "that you are very close to being expelled, Mr. Malfoy." Her words caused him to flinch. "Go," she ordered. "You're a disgrace, Malfoy. An absolute disgrace."

Draco had been walking towards the door as she said this, but the last sentence was too much for him to take and he spun round angrily, temper flaring. "Tell my father, then!" he yelled. "Tell him I'm a disgrace! You'll only be agreeing with him and serving to make him even more of an arrogant b –"

"Alright!" McGonagall cut him off. "Get out!" She watched him storm out and winced as the door banged shut violently behind him. Sighing, she went down to lunch, unaware that Draco had gone to his dormitory and not to the Great Hall, where he lay on his bed, staring up at the canopy of the four-poster bed. He did not turn up for lessons that afternoon and Harry couldn't help noticing at dinner that evening that he looked like he'd been crying. Surely Draco Malfoy's the last person to be crying, he thought in confusion.

Draco caught Harry staring at him as he sat on one end of the Slytherin table, and he promptly looked away. He hadn't wanted to come to the meal, given the state he was in (not that any of the Slytherins had noticed his red eyes, a fact for which he was grateful), but he had been too hungry to miss another meal.

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The next significant event to take place was the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, a fortnight before the Christmas holidays. Three-quarters of the school would most likely be cheering on Gryffindor, with Slytherin receiving only the support of their own House.

"Now," began Madam Hooch sternly, "I want a nice clean game for once." She looked at both Harry and Alistair Crowther, the sixth-year Slytherin captain and Chaser, pointedly, knowing full well the history of recent encounters. "Shake hands!"

Reluctantly, and glaring murderously at each other, the two obeyed for about half a second (Hermione reckoned that it was probably less).

"Take your positions!" Hooch threw the Quaffle into the air and the game began, with fourth-year Gryffindor Dennis Creevey on the commentary – he had taken over from Lee Jordan the previous year). "It's Dai Evans of Gryffindor with the Quaffle…to Ginny Weasley – oh, nice turn! – who passes it to Theresa Calderbrook…She's bearing down on goal, looks like she might score…OUCH! That must have hurt, Crowther barging into her like that! Surely that's not allowed! Slytherin now in possession, with dirty Crowther passing to Marcus Leigh, who shoots – but Ron Weasley is alert and it's an easy save for him. Gryffindor have the Quaffle. Ron Weasley to Calderbrook – that's a foul! Flint has just hit a Bludger at Evans; how his nose wasn't broken, I don't know! Dirty, cheating Slytherins!"

McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. "Creevey…"

"Sorry, Professor. Calderbrook advancing on the Slytherin goal – she scores! Ten points to Gryffindor!" He punched the air in delight. "Come on, Gryffindor! Slytherin have the Quaffle. Leigh to – nice interception by Ginny as Leigh is nearly knocked off his broom by a Bludger. Nimbus Two Thousand, very slow compared to the Firebolt, which continues to surpass all others on the market –"

"Creevey, the match! You are not meant to advertise broomsticks! You're as bad as Jordan!"

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Harry was watching the game from the edge of the pitch, where he was currently hovering. The Gryffindors had predicted dirty play from the Slytherins (Crowther's tactics were the same no matter who the opposition were), including Draco, but if Harry was honest, the blond boy was too distracted to even look for the Golden Snitch properly, never mind think about dirty play. In the meantime, the game was getting dirtier by the minute. Flint hit a Bludger directly at Seamus, so Dean hit the other Bludger straight at the Slytherin captain. The Slytherins were doing their utmost to injure Gryffindors (and vice versa). Crowther was encouraging his team to deliberately cause collisions and steer Gryffindors off-course by locking broom-handles with them (blatching and blurting, respectively, according to Quidditch Through the Ages). They were also attempting to slow the Gryffindors by hanging onto their broom tails. Madam Hooch awarded Gryffindor two penalties, both of which they scored. It didn't take long for Slytherin to pull three goals back.

And then there was the unmistakable golden glint of the Snitch, over by the Slytherin goals. Harry shot off in that direction. Draco was close behind, but not close enough. Harry carefully balanced himself as he leaned forwards and grabbed the small ball.

Draco pulled up beside him. "Well done," he muttered before heading down to land. Seconds later, the Gryffindor players surrounded Harry in a mob and all seven loudly celebrated in mid-air until Hooch ordered them down. The party in their common room went on until about one o'clock in the morning, McGonagall joining them before finally forcing herself to order them off to bed.

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TBC

Author thanks:

Lucidity: Do you really think I can answer your questions without ruining the whole plot??? They'll be answered in due course!! 32chapters, remember?!

MagickalStar135: I think one of the relationships is starting to become a little more obvious now. As for the other, you know which shipper I am! As for Cho, I make no comment (but bear in mind she is far from my favourite character…)

Dark Borg Drone: (blushes) There are a number of better authors out there than me. Hannon le for reviewing! Glad to see I'm appreciated! ;)

Scribe of Gryffindor: I rather suspect Pansy has bewitched her mirror so that it always tells her how gorgeous she is! And she's one of those people who follows six different fashions at once, thinking it makes her super-cool – but the results are disastrous! If you want a better insight into potential romantic pairings, read some of my other fics! Neurorehab is dealing with the brain (neurology is the field of doctors who deal with physical disorders of the brain). Most of the people we're working with are affected by strokes, multiple sclerosis, Parkinson's disease and motor neurone disease. I suspect you're getting mixed up with psychiatry, which is to do with mental health and wellbeing.

Samhaincat: give it time and Draco may open up to Harry a bit.

The Lady Quotes: have you recovered from having your cousins over yet? I'm not horrendously good at cliffhangers; I'm more of a drawing-to-a-natural-close kind of author. I need to work on cliffhangers. And using the phone to make contact with services (this is placement-related; I hate using the phone and talking to people I don't know).

TinorialPeredhil: I'm not used to such long reviews – from anyone!! Oh, I couldn't resist the whole thing with Snape and Flitwick; Flitwick just wants everyone to smile and be happy and do well in Charms. Perhaps I should send Sirius into hiding from you??? And Harry's suffering from the whole Gryffindor Quidditch Captain Syndrome (Madam Pomfrey has just informed me of this condition, along with its related strains of Ravenclaw and Slytherin Quidditch Captain Syndromes; there is also the Hufflepuff strain, but this is far milder and has very little effect on the sufferer).

Also thanks to rinkurocks