For Draco (on hold)

Madison

“Miss Malfoy, I’m mailing this to your parents. It’s past due time something about your behavior should be done.” I stood behind my desk, acrylic-tipped nails tapping the wooden frame of my chair.

The piercing grey eyes of the young girl in front of me were wide with mock horror. She smirked, folding her hands neatly in front of her— posing for me. Her head tipped slightly to my left as she studied me. I waited for her response not because I was curious, but because I wanted her to spit it out.

I had never been a patient person. For the past few months— as Slytherin’s new head of house— I had forgiven Cissette Malfoy’s many indiscretions. Yet this particular incident had drawn too much attention to be swept beneath the rug.

 “Professor Clark, I don’t know what good that will do. A king gives his princess whatever she desires.” The ends of her lips curled up into a fond smile in response to the rolling of my eyes. I wondered in that instance why she only mentioned ‘a king’, as opposed to a mother and father that should parent her.

 “This isn’t a fairytale, Cissette. You’re not a princess,” I said harshly, “I have an obligation to my school and a reputation to uphold. No pureblood brat is going to get in my way. Do I make myself clear?” I tilted my chin up to take a shallow breath.

“By all means, Professor, do what you need to do.” She giggled as she fanned her arm outwards.

I glanced at the letter on my desk one last time before I handed it to my golden owl Leon. He took flight immediately, soaring out into the darkening evening to deliver my letter to the parents of the young Cissette Malfoy.

 “You’re dismissed,” I told her, flicking my hand towards the door.

 “Oh no,” she laughed, “I think I’d like to watch this.”

 “I’m grading essays tonight. Go back to your dormitory: it’s past curfew.” I gave her a level glare and she shrugged.

 “If you insist,” she replied, closing the door lightly after she skipped through it.

I picked up a textbook, glanced at the door, and felt the weight of the book offer an odd sort of comfort. I hurled it towards the door with a smile on my face. It felt good to let out some steam. I sat down at my desk, now ready to devote my attention to the parchments in front of me.

It took me ages to get through the stack I’d created for myself. As fascinating as simple hexes were, I made a mental note as I set down my quill to start skimming with the next batch. I had to force myself to finish, ignoring the lure of my own dormitory.  

I hurried through the corridors, knowing I wouldn’t run into anyone as I descended towards the dungeon. I passed the Potions classroom, and took the next left. Down the hall I heard the murmurings of sleep-talking portraits, and rolled my eyes to find that the painting covering my dormitory was the culprit. 

“Ech-hem,” I coughed loudly, giggling as my cranky wizard roused himself. He sighed, adjusting the dagger in his chest, as if it were a mere annoyance and opened his eyes.

“Password,” he demanded coldly. Sir Gandomiere had never liked me much, knowing I spent many late hours grading papers in my office, only to wake him at odd hours.

“Fatalius Diffindium,” I said, sighing with relief as the painting moved aside to let me in.

I tossed my bag upon the chair in my living room, heading for the bathroom, and tore off my robe two steps later. I undid the buttons of my blouse as I walked and let it drop to the floor behind me when I finished. My skirt was next; as I slipped off the silky material I took a freeing breath.