Debate, dicsussion.... whatever you like

Arthur finished the class and looked at Amelia. He nodded and went to McCoy's office. He left the professor a note he would use the office for a brief period. He walked coldly and calmly and opened the door. He went into McCoy's lovely office. It looked like a small apartment. You could live in it. He took a seat at his desk and waited for Amelia. He did not know if she was to arrive or not, but he took the risk.

Amelia was filled with tension and animosity as she swept her things into her bag. After her initial demonstration with Arthur at the front of class, Amelia had said and done absolutely nothing except sit at her desk with her eyes glued to the surface, fuming silently. The class period had seemed endless, what with Arthur walking around correcting the work of their peers, strolling around like the owned the place, like he had done nothing wrong.

Although she had been trying for the last thirty minutes to calm herself, Amelia was hardly calm as she strode to the front of the room, passing through the same door she had seen Arthur enter only a few minutes ago. She had given him a few minutes alone in the room, mostly so he could take in the scenery of Professor McCoy’s office before she knocked his lights out.

With that type of attitude, you’re likely going to regret this meeting, Amelia’s subconscious reminded her warily, knowing that with her temper already so heightened she was unlikely to be able to restrain herself once she was face to face with Arthur with no witnesses.

I’m likely going to regret this anyway, Amelia mentally retorted, fully inside the professor’s office now and seeing Arthur sitting smugly behind the large mahogany desk. The fact that he was sitting somehow set Amelia off, as though his being all too comfortable with this situation required her to make up for the antagonist he should have been.

“Are you going to stand up so I can hit you properly?” Amelia spat sarcastically, dropping her bag on the empty chair in front of McCoy’s desk and standing behind it, far too filled with electric tension to be sitting at this point.

And there she was. Arthur raised hid head slowly and looked at her, turning his attention away from the book he found on McCoy's desk. She was, as Wilson once mentioned, beautiful. But the thing he noticed in the first moment he looked at her were her eyes. Full of fury, full emotion. They were beautiful.

He smiled at her enter and stood up, slowly and calmly. This was the question, the innuendo he had expected from her. She was a strong personality and he would be an idiot to think she would not state her opinion directly.

He thought for a moment and then directed his look at her. He smiled once again. ''Well, here I am. I am up. Do you prefer any of the cheeks or did you have my nose in mind?'', he asked with another smile, although this one was not so intense and not so sincere as the last two. This was not a forced smile, though, it was only a reaction to a situation that he found interesting, but did not know how to react on it. He waited for her reply. ''Oh yes, you are free to take the seat.'', he added.

“I think I’ll stand, thanks,” Amelia snapped at Arthur’s offer. If his smiles had meant to placate or calm her, it wasn’t going to work. She had spent the duration of the class period working herself into a tizzy over what she perceived as an intentional wrongdoing on the part of Arthur. If anything, Arthur’s calm smile and demeanor were only making her more angry. She was fuming silently as he spoke, ignoring his sickeningly polite offer of which body part she wanted to hit.

I was thinking something more below the belt, Amelia’s subconscious retorted, though the redhead kept her lips pressed firmly together in a thin line that spoke clearly for itself: I am already pissed off, do not test me.

Amelia didn’t know why she had chosen to come in here in the first place. Generally, she was a non-confrontational person. If someone was bothering or annoying her, she simply removed herself from the situation. It kept her from saying all the spiteful things she was thinking – at least most of the time – or from getting caught up in the ties of her emotions, which were unreliable at best. Amelia preferred to think only rationally, and when she was frustrated or in a fury, as she was now, her thoughts were clouded by these emotions.

But yet she was here. Those emotions she had mentioned were probably to blame for that. She should have just packed her things and left the classroom, as she had earlier this week when professor Wilson had clearly overstepped his boundaries and attempted to play matchmaker instead of doing the job Hogwarts paid him to perform. This had been a long, trying week already, and it was only Wednesday.

“Why don’t you just say whatever you wanted to say to me so I can leave and you can keep your nose intact,” Amelia finally muttered, gesturing toward Arthur and giving him the floor. He had invited her here, after all, and she was hardly willing to believe that the sole purpose of this was to allow her to use him as a human punching bag. The quicker she got through this, the better off she would be.

Arthur sat on McCoy's desk and started waving his legs like a child. ''Well, I have honestly thought you were going to punch me or throw a curse on me. I guess I got lucky.'', he commented. He looked at her and then around the room for a few moments. This silence was relaxing. He took a deep breath and looked directly into her deep, beautiful blue eyes. ''You know, people say that blue eyes have the most beautiful sparkle coming out of them and that they are the most beautiful for watching.'', he commented. His eyes were also blue but they were not nearly as beautiful as her.

He then stood up and made a serious expression. He put his hand behind his back and started walking behind her. He looked like Porfiry Petrovich, a character from Crime and Punishment, a muggle book he had read and enjoyed with extreme delight. One of the best books he had read. Suddenly he stopped behind her. He directed his view to the floor. ''Since you have nothing to say... yet, I'll use my opportunity. What have I done to you that you antagonize me so much?'', he asked.

Lucky is right, Amelia thought in response to Arthur’s offhanded comment, keeping herself from snorting with sarcasm. Luck was just about the only thing keeping Arthur’s face in one piece right now. If Amelia were a weaker woman, she would have already given in to the urge to strangle Arthur, for that is exactly what her emotions were demanding of her. But some combination of luck and rationality were keeping Amelia rooted to the spot instead of launching herself at the unprotected boy in front of her.

The few moments of silence after Arthur’s initial comment allowed Amelia to reflect on the situation and tae a series of deep breaths. It really was ridiculous that she should be here right now. Arthur was clearly aware of her distaste for him, and yet he had requested this meeting. And the way he was looking at her, she couldn’t tell if he was constipated or deeply concentrating.

It turned out both were wrong, Amelia found out, when Arthur spoke again, his eyes meeting hers for far longer than the socially acceptable amount of time. He hadn’t been concentrating, he had been conniving. His comment on her eyes had been completely out of the blue, and she immediately rolled said organs in distaste. She wasn’t going to fall for this act, this sudden flattery. Arthur had never so much as spoken to her outside of class, so she didn’t have any idea what he might hope to gain through this vein of conversation, but she wasn’t going to play along. Instead, she focused on a spot slightly to the left of the older Gryffindor boy, a part of the desk on which something must have sat for a while but had since been removed, leaving a square of dust-free space.

Amelia could see out of her peripheral vision as Arthur stood up, but she did not meet his gaze. She could tell he was looking at her, but making eye contact would only do one of two things: infuriate her further, or give him what he wanted. Not particularly keen on either, Amelia kept her stare steadily focused on the desk, even as Arthur paced around her. Amelia could feel the change when Arthur’s eyes were no longer on her, the prickling feeling on the back of her neck gone just as he started to speak.

“I antagonize you?” Amelia asked in disbelief, turning on the spot to face Arthur, her redhead’s temper flaring again, “How do I antagonize you? I sit quietly in class, don’t say a word to you, and never go out of my way to bother you. How could that possibly fit the definition of antagonist?”

Amelia’s words came in a fury, dropping from her lips like sparks from a hot fire. She could have spat more at Arthur, but Amelia wasn’t one to rant. She was concise, even in her insults and arguments, at least out loud. Mentally, she was running through the train of sarcasm she could have thrown his way, each word barbed like wire.

Arthur smiled and nodded a couple of times. But, what was his goal here, actually? He knew he was not going to amaze her with one meeting, that much he was aware of. But what then? Was it victory over her? Was it finding out the reason of her behavior? Was it... no... but... was it just to be near her and speak to her? He got struck by this answer himself. Was it really that strong? Had his rational mind made a mistake somewhere on the road? He could be in the Library reading or contemplating in his Common Room. And yes, he is here, with her, leading a very slow and difficult conversation. He never lead useless speeches, discussion or... anything useless when you think about it. And yes, he had broken one of the most important rules of his rational mind - never do something that has no meaning, no goal or a chance for success. He sighed and went to the window behind McCoy's desk. He looked out for a few moments. He needed to compose himself. He was not capable of leading this discussion in that state. After about half a minute, he was ready. Still troubled by his own thoughts, but composed and ready to continue.

He turned around and looked at her. Oh, those eyes! He closed his and opened them in a second. ''Maybe I have used the wrong verb.'', he said waving his hands in the air. ''But, your reply proves my point. But still, let me correct the verb - why do you dislike me? And, please, do not insult my intelligence by trying to avoid the answer with that 'we have not spoken nor communicated in any way' phrase. You are not stupid. On the contrary, you are the most intelligent of my peers that I know and do not act unintelligent.'', he said, calmly sitting down. He looked at the desk for a few moments and then directed his view towards her.

The smile that kept creeping onto Arthur’s face, even in spite of her fury, was making Amelia more and more likely to simply turn around and storm out the door. She wasn’t required to be here, so it was just as likely that she would leave as stay. He was smiling and nodding as though they were discussing the events of their weekend or some concert they had both attended, rather than arguing about Arthur’s breach of her personal space and attempt to shine the spotlight he so often hogged for himself onto her, against her wishes.

Just curse him and leave, Amelia’s less rational side prompted, losing sight of the control she had hoped to maintain while here. She had known coming into the room that holding onto that small scrap of self control – though she usually had self control in abundance – that her anger had allowed to survive probably would not thrive under the conditions of McCoy’s office. Arthur annoyed her without even speaking directly to her; how had she managed to believe that would change when they were face to face?

Amelia was left to brood in her own thoughts while Arthur took in what she had said, contemplating quietly from his place on McCoy’s desk. The redhead was just about ready to leave from impatience when Arthur finally spoke, his words chosen distinctly for their purpose. Amelia crossed her arms across her chest defensively as he spoke to her, rather insulted that he would think her someone to beat around the bush when it came to answering his question. She and Arthur both knew that Amelia held no good feelings about him; it was rather obvious that she disliked him. What was not rather obvious was why he had chosen to compliment her intelligence when he was not likely to get a compliment in return, but Amelia brushed that aside in favor of giving Arthur the blunt answer he had requested.

“Why do I dislike thee?” Amelia echoed, “Let me count the ways,” she continued, sarcastically quoting from Shakespeare, “You are likely the most pompous and self-appreciating person I have ever had the displeasure to share a room with. Providing every answer in class, showing off with your fancy wandwork, proving to everyone just how much better you are than them – what purpose does it all serve? You could easily earn just as many house points by your talent alone, but that doesn’t seem to be enough for you. You have to grind it into everyone’s skulls that you are the best. You may have every teacher in the school falling for the charade, but I won’t. Couldn’t you share the wealth once in a while, let someone else answer or earn house points?” Amelia asked pointedly, giving him a stare that said, Blunt enough for you?.

Old English? Why would she use that? Strange, but still.... attractive in a way. Her reply was a bit odd, though. But still, nothing unexpected. Actually, when he thinks of it, listening to her, he had expected a much worse and much more... vehement answer. This was just a complaint regarding his intellectual and wizardry skills. Nothing he did not know about already.

''And that is the only reason?'', he asked. He directed a serious look towards her. ''Pompous? Self-appreciating? Well yes... you are correct... I do seem like that. But... it is hard to find adequate words. Let us be frank, shall we. I am like that in class, yes. That is true. But is it really my fault that the others do not take part in class? You seem to deserve your share, but I truly doubt that you yourself are worried. I doubt that I have mistaken myself in analyzing you, which means that you are not as, like you said, pompous and self-appreciating like myself. But... I can change. My activity only comes from my own will and I can shut it off when needed without a problem. I just need a motive. But, what is more important is not why you dislike my method in class, it is rather why you dislike me as a person? As you have said, we have not communicated once, which automatically means that you do now know me. Who says I am like that privately? Yes, I may be cold, sarcastic and not so sociable... but am I pompous and self-appreciating or am I perhaps more friendly?'', he asked.

((I really apologize for taking so long to write this. I kept meaning to get to it, but with mid-term exams I was really busy. I really am sorry.))

Amelia tried to remain patient as Arthur processed her response, but the mental outburst she had just gone through kept her on edge. He was silent for a few moments before his face turned from contemplative to serious, turning his eyes to her as he began his explanation. Her first response was to immediately block out everything he was saying, but before he got more than a few words in Amelia had already reassessed her position. If she wasn’t going to listen to anything he had to say, why was she in here? She could at least let him get a few words in edgewise. If nothing else it would just give her more ammunition for her sarcasm.

The redhead was surprised to find that Arthur did not hesitate to admit the qualities she had belittled him for. He did not seem at all oblivious to the fact that he was indeed all those things she described him as: pompous, self-appreciating, self-centered. But he didn’t seem ashamed of it. His logic as to why he behaved the way he did was flawed, but before Amelia could point this out he continued, causing her to close her mouth again and cross her arms over her chest as she waited out the rest of his speech.

After she was sure he was finished, Amelia took a moment to collect her thoughts. She had probably done enough trading for one evening, and she probably wasn’t making her points well if he thought she was just sputtering whatever , popped into her head. Instead, she blinked several times and inhaled deeply, filling her lungs to capacity several times before she was ready to respond.

“I do not dislike you,” Amelia finally stated, having decided upon this technicality in the last minute or so of thinking, “But you do annoy me. And, for all practical purposes, these mean the same thing. Both mean I do not wish to spend time around you, whether in class or outside of it,” Amelia said bluntly. She was never one to hide what she was thinking, though she was significantly better at hiding how she was feeling.

“I don’t mean you any offense,” Amelia said as a means of placating him, and to some extent by way of explanation, “Perhaps you are friendly and wonderful to be around in your private life, and maybe you could change and be like that all the time,” Amelia continued, though she didn’t truly believe it. In her experience, people never really change, they just become more of what they really are. But for the sake of argument, she would go along with his train of thought.

“But, as you said, you would need a motive. And I hardly believe that my annoyance with you is enough to motivate you to change completely. You seem rather content with the way you behave in class, and far be it for me to tell you how you ought to behave. But you cannot fault me for disliking it when you do,” Amelia finished, shrugging her shoulders as a way of ending her statement. There was really nothing more to say. She had said what she felt, and she doubted very much that anything Arthur said would change those feelings.