Minerva McGonagall had been teaching for a long time. Exactly how long, she didn't like to admit, but in her time at Hogwarts she had seen her fair share of teenage angst. The breakups, the makeups, the gossip, the name-calling: every student went through it, so much so that it wasn't worth it to even try to keep up. And her students often forgot that she, too, was once brimming with the same overabundance of emotions. Throughout her career, Minerva rarely involved herself in such petty matters, unless they were actively disrupting her class. She was not, after all, her students' mother.
Which was why she felt so conflicted over the deep distress she felt when the self-proclaimed "Marauders" shuffled into her classroom, unusually quiet and missing one of their group. The last boy did eventually wander in, dangerously close to being late, and sunk into a seat in the back of the room, far from the others.
Minerva frowned. Of course she knew what had happened between the boys; she had personally scolded Black, harshly, and had been the one to inform Lupin of what transpired that night, gently. Both tasks had been difficult in their own right, and the boys' devastated expressions had been uneasily similar. It was a given that Black's actions had caused a rift in the group—Minerva would have been concerned if it hadn't. This was no simple teenage drama. This was real betrayal.
Perhaps this was why Minerva was so disturbed by the situation—in a group as tight as theirs, she would never have expected that one would wrong another so thoroughly and thoughtlessly. Clearly, neither had they.
Still, Minerva did not like to get involved in disputes between her students. It was not her place. She continued her lecture as usual, as though she did not see Pettigrew glance at Black every few minutes or Potter steadfastly refuse to ignore him. She continued as though she could not notice Lupin staring into the same place on his notebook the entire lecture, unlikely hearing a word she said. She chided Black as she normally would for resting his head on the desk as he pretended to take notes, although she was not as harsh as usual. And she pretended not to notice Lupin flinch and Potter tense at Black's name.
Minerva was more than happy to dismiss the class; tension was not uncommon in her class, intimidated by her as her students were, but she much preferred it when she was the source of discomfort. The students filed out, chattering as they went, but Black hung back, eyeing Lupin, eyes filled with something akin to desperation. Head down, he slipped out the door without a word, smile, or anything resembling his former self.
With the class finally empty, Minerva let out a heavy breath. If she thought those boys were going to give her ulcers before, she could only imagine how her health—and theirs—would fail if this continued. She decided to occupy herself with something more useful, and sat behind her desk to grade the essays her third-years had handed in the previous day. She had only read the name of student on the first essay when she heard shouting in the hallway. Minerva had an idea of what was causing the commotion, and quickly left her classroom in search of the disturbance.
Pushing through the ring of on-looking students, Minerva was unsurprised to find her suspicions confirmed.
"—think you've done enough damage?" Potter raged, throwing yet another curse at his former best friend. Black was defending himself admirably, especially considering Potter was no amateur when it came to duels. Minerva saw Lupin and Pettigrew breaking through crowd across from her, Lupin's shoulders hunched and face read. Pettigrew kept a hand on his back as he quickly escorted him away. "You have some nerve talking to him after what you did, Black!" Potter spit out Black's surname as if it were one of the curses he was currently aiming at him.
Black's face twisted, but remained determined. "Shut your goddamn mouth, Potter," he growled. "Let him curse me if he wants to, he doesn't need you as his keeper—"
"Enough!" Minerva shouted, causing several students to jump. Black looked over at her quickly, too surprised to shield himself from Potter's final stunning spell. The boy was knocked back into the wall, expelling all the air in his lungs. Potter's eyes grew wide, as though he hadn't actually expected to hit him. Minerva stalked forward toward the two, fury in her eyes. "Potter, Black: my office, now." The surrounding students began murmuring to each other, pushing Minerva's anger even further. "The rest of you: I'm taking twenty house points from each person who is not in their next class within two minutes." It was an outrageous demand, one she would not actually enforce, but it had the desired effect. The remaining students scrambled away, leaving Potter and Black fixed in their places. Potter's face was still flushed in anger, but he refused to look up from the floor. Without her prompting, he stalked into her classroom, hands clenched at his side. Black, his breath back, followed morosely.
Minerva sat down behind her desk, and conjured an extra chair so that there were two facing her. Potter dropped into one with a huff, and Black gingerly lowered himself into the other. Neither would look at the other or their professor. Minerva regarded them both coolly. "I realize the…situation you both are in, and that emotions are running high, but I will not tolerate dueling in the corridors."
Black scoffed, mumbling, "He started it."
Potter's face became beet red once again. Turning to Black, he spat, "Oh, you really want to argue that I started it?"
"I just wanted to talk to Remus—"
"Remus doesn't want to talk to you!"
Black gritted and bared his teeth in anger. It was the first emotion besides sadness Minerva had seen on his features in a month. "Potter," he hissed, "he's the one I hurt, not you. This has nothing to do with you—"
"You think this has nothing to do with me?" Potter asked incredulously.
Black's face soured. "You're so fucking self-centered—"
"You did hurt me, you twat!"
The silence that followed was heavy. Black blanched and pressed his lips together. He furrowed his brow, started, stopped, and started again. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I don't know how to fix it. I want to, desperately, but I just…don't know how." He looked up at Potter. "And you won't give me the chance."
Potter looked away, clearly still unwilling to do as Black said. Minerva, who had felt invisible for the past few minutes, felt it was up to her to voice something that was faulty in both their arguments. "What about Lupin?" Both boys' heads jerked toward her, having forgotten the reason they were together in this office in the first place. "You're both hurting, clearly, and you clearly know that Lupin is hurting as well," she explained. "But in an attempt to alleviate your own pain, neither one of you are thinking about how you're affecting Lupin."
Potter ruffled. "That's not true, I'm keeping him away from him," he sneered.
"Yes, but you're causing scenes like you just did today," Minerva pointed out. Potter opened his mouth but no defense came out. "Your anger, while understandable, is not helpful." Potter had the good grace to look ashamed. "You're allowed to be angry, but not all the time. Otherwise you'll never move on, and neither will Lupin. You'll all be miserable until you graduate."
"What do you mean, 'move on'?" Potter asked, indignant. "I can't forgive him for what he did," he said of Black, as if he weren't there.
"I did not say that moving on necessarily entailed forgiveness," Minerva pointed out. Shifting her gaze to Black, she continued, "Which is something you may have to come to terms with, Black." At this, the boy shrank into himself in his seat.
Neither student said anything more. "I'm taking fifty points from each of you for dueling. It will not happen again," Minerva said, leaving no room for interpretation or argument. She turned to Potter. "Potter, you are free to go. Black, I want you to stay a few minutes more." Potter shot a sideways glance at Black before rising from his chair and leaving the room quietly.
Black remained hunched in his chair, eyes lowered, trying to make himself small. Minerva took the plate of biscuits on her desk and held them out to him. Black looked up at her offering skeptically. "Professor?" he asked.
"Have a biscuit, Black," Minerva said. "I know you haven't been eating lately." Black hesitated for a moment before reaching over to take the pastry on top. He nibbled on it uncertainly at first; suddenly, his hunger must have caught up with him because he scarfed down the rest. When he finished, Minerva gestured to the plate, and he took another, a pink tinge appearing on the tips of his ears.
"I know the past few weeks can't have been easy on you, Black," she started. Black looked up at her and swallowed the food in his mouth heavily. "Are you…well, to put it bluntly, are you doing alright?" She knew it was a stupid question, but she was unsure of how else to phrase it.
Black looked guarded. "Why?"
Minerva wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Why what?"
"Why are you talking to me?"
Minerva pursed her lips. "Well, I assume no one has really talked to you in the past month. It must be difficult." She paused. "You don't have to talk to me, of course. You're free to leave if you'd like."
Black didn't budge. After a long moment, he murmured, "Lily Evans talks to me sometimes."
Minerva smiled. "Evans is a kind girl."
Black nodded slowly. "I've told her not to though. James would get angry. Well," he half laughed, "angrier."
He sighed heavily, wiping at the crumbs around his mouth. "Sometimes…" he started. He sat back in the chair, looking far away. "I feel like I'm drowning and sometimes I wonder whether it would be easier to just…drown. Y'know, not fight it, let it happen." He shook his head almost imperceptivity. "I've done enough damage as it is," he said, mirroring Potter's words from earlier.
A small smile graced Minerva's face. "Sirius," she started, gaining his attention with his first name; she imagined he hadn't heard it in quite some time, had only been addressed by the name he hated. It worked—his eyes snapped to hers, almost child-like. "Don't you dare give up."
Black continued to stare at her in wonder, until slowly, slowly, a smile spread across his features. He nodded, rubbing at his face. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah. I won't."
"Good," Minerva said. "Now, you need to be getting to your next class; I'll write you a pass."
Black shook his head, his smile turning into the ghost of a wicked grin. "It's Binns—he won't notice."
Minerva nodded her head, conceding. Black rose from the chair and made his way toward the door. "Black," she called out as he reached the door. He turned around, eyebrows raised in question. "Make sure to pay attention next class."
The boy nodded earnestly, his smile unwavering now that his muscles remembered how. "Of course, Professor." She waved her hand at him and he disappeared through the door.
No, Minerva McGonagall preferred not to involve herself in her students' personal matters. Anyway, they could usually resolve their issues on their own. She wasn't completely cold, however; she hated to admit it, but she did have soft spots. And anyway, just because she was not her students' mother did not mean they were not her children.
