Thankfully the rest of the day had gone by without incident however the calm had allowed Connie's mind to wonder towards her meeting with Miss Scrimgeour this evening - the meeting she was now waiting for in her rooms, leaning back in her armchair, head propped up by her hand as she tried to ease away a headache and contemplated what she was actually going to say. The girl had misbehaved, that much was evident, and Connie was in no doubt that she was not the only one but Mr Urquart had been much more composed and the Ravenclaw boy was beyond her concern for now.

No, her attention had to be on Miss Scrimgeour and the very fact of that bothered her, though she knew it was an unfortunate way of life. Mr Urquart and boys like him would learn that the world forgave them anything whilst girls like Miss Scrimgeour got away with precisely nothing: surely the girl could see that well enough? Connie didn't care for society herself but she had not dedicated her life to education for nothing and if Miss Scrimgeour was to be a debutante one day then she would be the best and no one would say she had been incorrectly guided by the examples set for her.

"Come in," she called out, coughing to clear her throat and sitting up straight before the door opened, smoothing her robes across her knees and patting her hair into place. "Sit down Miss Scrimgeour," she gestured to the chair opposite her own by the fireplace. "I hardly need tell you why you're here."

Connie nearly snorted at the audacity of the response and quite how much it implicitly excused the girl from. Did she truly think all she had done wrong earlier was to speak out of turn? When she had arrived there had been clear signs that more than one spell had been fired, and that students were trying things well above their capabilities, a dangerous arrogance that no member of staff had ever been able to moderate entirely and not something that could be taken lightly.

Still, at least that particular crime had not been Miss Scrimgeour’s.

“And?” She said pointedly. She didn’t doubt that the girl would evade her again but if she could just make some headway with her it would be a start. Since the beginning of term it had seemed as though Miss Scrimgeour was determined to follow in the footsteps of Seneca Lestrange, which wasn’t a bad choice of role model really, but she was yet to be master her emotional control in quite the same way and whilst Connie was happy to encourage the friendship in the hope the older girl rubbed off on the younger it was far from fair to Miss Lestrange to put such responsibility on her shoulders.

A struggle though it was, it would need to be her.

Pursing her lips, largely to contain the urge to smirk at the sheer audacity, Connie breathed deeply as she settled in for what was clearly going to be an exercise in getting blood from a stone. It was not uncommon amongst her charges. Slytherins were, after all, rather better than most at self-preservation and a small part of Connie was usually proud of their determination to be evasive even in the face of overwhelming evidence.

It did make for long interviews though.

“I think we both know it was rather more than that Miss Scrimgeour,” she said pointedly, waving her wand to have the tea-set spring to life and pour itself. “But I have no wish to chastise you further. Your behaviour in the classroom today, at least what I saw, was no worse than that of Mr Blackwall or Mr Urquart.”

Mr Urquart, though undoubtedly as equally culpable, had taken the wise decision to keep his mouth shut at the critical moment and Connie wished she could explain that to Miss Scrimgeour without inadvertently giving her advice on how to break rules. It would hardly reflect well on her, even if it might mark an upturn in Slytherin’s fortunes in the House Cup.

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Connie insisted, before pausing for a moment to consider, and amending her statement. “You’re not failing at being a Slytherin, if that is what you’re concerned about. We do indeed have all those traits, but we also value cunning and we women have to utilise that a lot more than any man might.”

She pushed a cup of freshly poured tea towards the girl.

“You must learn to control your temper Miss Scrimgeour,” she said firmly, but not unkindly.

It was a small victory and one Connie immediately latched on to. She didn’t doubt Miss Scrimgeour would need more than one talking to before she manage to control her temper – it was rather endearing really and Connie was never opposed to seeing spirit – but at least this was a start.

“I know it is,” she replied in a low voice and a small smile on her face. She would make it easier for Holly in the long run, she refused to see another girl forget herself so much she was packed off to finishing school, or worse, married off before she was old enough to even think about what she wanted from her life. Miss Scrimgeour deserved to flourish, not have her wings clipped before they were even fully grown.

“But it’s not impossible. Believe me there are plenty of people I know that would like nothing more than to shout about injustice and fire off spells to their hearts content but they control themselves,” she added with a wry laugh at the thought of how many of those people resided in this very castle. “There are things I can teach you though if you’d like that?”

What she was, Connie immediately thought, was someone dearly in need of guidance and, she expected, rather overlooked in the grand scheme of her family. In her experience daughters without mothers always bore the brunt of the neglect, the oldest expected to look after the other children while the younger ones ran wild with their moods and tempers. Miss Scrimgeour had the added upset of losing half her siblings, a blow Connie could scarcely imagine though the only incidents she had witnessed had involved Holly lashing out rather than being sad.

Perhaps it would come with time?

“I believe that part of the purpose for your years here are to find that out for yourself. No one else can tell you no matter how hard they might try,” she replied with an encouraging smile that soon turned into a raise of her eyebrows. “All we can do is impart what we know and hope you have the wisdom to work it out for yourselves.”

Connie had seen enough of the Prophet, and watched as several eyes in the Great Hall had flickered in the direction of Holly and her sister over the morning paper and toast when each lurid article had been released, to know precisely what sort of girl Holly was referring to. She hadn’t had much to do with the older girl when she had been a student but Connie wasn’t sure simple misbehaviour had been the root cause of it all.

“That is an excellent attitude to take,” she said emphatically, smiling broadly at the girl, pleased she was getting through. Could it be this easy? A little talk and a genuine offer of help and Miss Scrimgeour would become a model student? No, that was ludicrous, frankly Connie would be astounded if they got to the end of term without having to have another sit down in her office, but it was progress of sorts.

One could no more reshape Rome in a day than one could build it.

“I think that’s enough for today Miss Scrimgeour and I hope you’ll think about what I’ve said.” She smiled and gesture for the girl to get up, not wanting to take up too much of her time and risk Holly becoming irritated with her. That wouldn’t do at all. “We can talk tomorrow after dinner but until then if somebody makes you angry, or you encounter Mr Blackwall again, then take a moment, take a breath, and consider what your instincts tell you to do,” she raised an eyebrow sardonically. “And then consider whether those instincts will put you back in detention.”