Hide & Seek

Chapter 4 - Pettifoggery

Chapter 4
PETTIFOGGERY

pettifoggery
(n.) a trivial quarrel

GEMMA'S eyes followed the patterns of swirling grey in the stone floor as she made her way down the hall behind Professor McGonagall towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower. The students were scattered, as they all headed in different directions back to their dormitories as instructed.

Gemma cast a quick wide-eyed glance at Harry and Ron over her shoulder, both of them giving her an over-enthusiastic thumbs up. Ron mouthed an exaggerated 'good luck', as if that would somehow lessen the blow of the lecture she was undoubtedly on her way to receive.

Harry nudged Ron lightly, and the pair turned to head back up the stairs before another professor or even Filch could find them still standing there.

Turning back around, the mess of blonde hair in Gemma's peripheral was walking alongside her. She didn't even want to look at him, her stomach still rolling with pent up anger that the argument had failed to release.

The hex had only managed to relieve a fraction of the tension Malfoy's insults had wound up, and Gemma had to clench her robes with her fists to prevent one of them from meeting his annoyingly pristine, porcelain cheek. Damn the twat and his perfect complexion. As if he needed anymore reasons to believe he was better than everyone else.

The least the universe could've done was make him ugly.

Unfortunately, the contents of a book don't always match it's outside appearance, and Gemma knew Draco was one revoltingly vile story on the inside.

Pity the pretty cover was going to waste.

As the three of them made their way through the castle, Gemma was relieved to find most of the hallways deserted. It was bad enough there had been an audience for their little quarrel, let alone for the walk of shame they were taking towards McGonagall's office.

The only movement came from the flickering of the lantern light against the dark, shadowy ceiling, and the few ghosts making the occasional appearance as they passed between walls.

When they arrived at the door, Professor McGonagall whispered a password that neither Gemma nor Draco could hear, and pushed inside.

The small room was cozy, with a cold fireplace, massive desk, and discrete door that assumably led to their professor's sleeping chambers. The towering windows on either side of the chimney gave way to a spectacular view of the training grounds, of which were swallowed by the inky blackness of the evening.

The diamond shaped panes reflected their faces back at them, Gemma's a mask of agitation, Draco's twisted in spite. Professor McGonagall rounded her desk, aiming her wand nonchalantly at the dry wood behind her with a swift incendio. Whilst she seemed to be in less of a fluster than when she had found them in the Entrance Hall, the obvious displeasure for their actions was still clear on her face.

She turned to face the two teenagers, peering down over the glasses balanced on the bridge of her slender nose.

"Take a seat," she spoke shortly, clasping one wrist with the opposite hand, still holding her wand.

Draco and Gemma stepped around front of the two comfortable looking chairs, each slowly descending into a bouncy seat. Neither spared the other a glance, both staring at the intricate carvings on the desks to occupy their nervous eyes.

The only sound echoing in the enclosed office was their shallow breaths and the occasional pop of the fire. Breaking the silence, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.