Minerva/Sinistra
The air was tense as Aurora Sinistra stormed into the room, her eyes narrow with a mean glint in them.
"You can't just call me into your office like I am some errant schoolgirl, Minerva!" she said aggressively, glaring at the aforementioned witch.
Minerva McGonagall, sitting at her desk, looked up calmly, but with a definite coldness in her already unforgiving features.
"In which case," the older witch said slowly, "I would suggest that you stop acting like one."
She rose, her standing height much taller than Aurora's. Though Minerva made an imposing figure, the younger witch did not back down.
"I can't possibly guess what you mean," Aurora hissed, putting her hands on her hips.
"Then I'll give you a hint," Minerva shot back, her words sharp and cutting, "It involves you sneaking off in the middle of dinner to a secret rendezvous in the woods with a visiting health inspector. It might also include you being spotted by a gaggle of Ravenclaw sixth years and returning to school in the early morning, slightly drunk and missing a shoe."
If any of that was true, Aurora did not look remotely apologetic.
"What I choose to do in my spare time is nobody's business," she said, in the voice of one holding the moral high ground.
Minerva continued to look at her coldly and said, "it's more a case of who you choose to do in your spare time. And where you choose to do it."
Aurora wasn't going to take that lying down.
"I know what this is," she said meanly, "You're just jealous because you thought he was more interested in you! You can't stand that he'd pick me over you; style over substance."
That last comment cut Minerva somewhere inside, the words seeming to embed themselves in her stomach, weighing her down. A foolish person may have pointed out the beginnings of tears in her eyes, but Aurora was not a foolish person. Nor was she entirely unkind; feeling a little guilty, the tension in her body slacken.
"I certainly don't feel that way," Minerva said, her voice hoarse.
Aurora opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. In a few mere seconds, the witch went through the emotions of guilt, confusion, anger and then, finally, spoke in what could only be described as burst of frustration.
"How am I supposed to know that, Minerva?" Aurora cried, "How is anybody supposed to know that? You never say what you feel, you never show anybody what you're feeling! I'd almost say you were physically incapable of letting people in!"
The younger witch was in tears now, shaking from the emotion. Minerva turned away, not wanting to face her. This, to Aurora, was a perfect example of what she had been talking about.
"Why do you do that, Minerva?" she said, her voice uneven as she cried, "Why?"
Aurora ran from the office, slamming the door behind her. Minerva stayed still for a moment, her eyes gently closing.
"Why?" she repeated the question to herself.
Then, like water bursting through the walls of a dam, Minerva gasped, tears falling freely down her cheeks. Her body doubled over in pain and she had to grab for the back of her chair to keep herself steady.
"Why?" she asked again, her eyes moving to spot where the other witch had stood, "Why can't I say I love you?"