Sixth Year
James
Teachers are commanding of respect.
The swish of their robes, the flash in their eyes when you antagonise them, their angry red scrawl.
Every aspect of a teacher demands respect. They don't expect thank you's, at least, not from the students they teach, and it's their job to put you in place in your most unruly years.
Being a teacher is certainly not an easy job.
But there are times when a teacher does not command our respect, when they step over the line. It's hard to differentiate between a well-deserved slap on the wrists, and a completely unprecedented rant, but at one time or another, it's extremely clear when a teacher has crossed the boundaries.
This was one of those times.
It started yesterday.
Professor McGonagall ended the lesson by informing us of an end of module test, a tight-lipped statement met with groans of dismay, the loudest of which came from Sirius.
I was confused by this. Sirius was fantastic at Transfiguration, managing to ace every test because he was naturally talented at the practicals and already knew half of the theory, having picked a lot up in his Animagus research.
If Sirius believed he was screwed, then what the hell did that mean for me?
Sure, I defeated Sirius by miles in the theory, but he had the headstart of being part of a pure-blood family. So much was already ingrained into him.
This last round of Transfiguration ended a week of hell, of exams and aching wrists coupled with dark circles and stifled yawns. Sirius had over-revised in every subject; yesterday he almost set Professor Flitwick on fire with a few mis-aimed sparks.
He was stumbling around in a stupor, choosing studying over food and sleep, and seemed to be taking the brunt of the stress and self-doubt that arrived with exam week.
I felt sorry for him, but a lot of the misery he was inflicting on himself - if he'd only had a nap, maybe he wouldn't have nodded off in the middle of the Defence Against The Dark Arts practical and left a terrified Professor Fowler to deal with a boggart.
When we got back to the dorms, he went through the usual routine of pulling out eight more textbooks than necessary and settling into a nest on the floor, surrounded by his revision guides which he could hardly see through the yawn-induced tears in his eyes.
I ambled over and sat in front of him, lying back into his lap and staring straight ahead.
I saw his jaw tighten, and braced myself as he pushed me off, the shadows the fire was casting making his eyes look even more haunted and gaunt.
"Not now James." he muttered, returning back to his book.
I sighed, frustrated - I really fucking missed my best friend, and threw myself face down on the sofa, muffling a yawn.
A tiny dip of weight in the couch alerted me to a presence, and I groaned.
"He's just stressed out." came Remus' gentle murmur, and although I was still buried in the couch, I'm pretty sure Remus sensed my eye roll, because he retreated.
I spent a few minutes wallowing in self pity, and then sat up, resigned, and decided to scan for one Lily Evans.
To my annoyance, however, I saw Remus and Sirius huddled in the corner, books askew and forgotten as they had a serious conversation.
I heard Sirius' bitter laugh from across the room, and scowled as Remus soothed him, making his sarcasm melt into a genuine grin, one that until a few years ago, only I had been able to elicit from him.
I stormed upstairs at that point, annoyed at my own jealousy, but still noticed the lack of dark eyes that used to survey my every move.
Remus
"How many meals have you skipped?"
Sirius groaned, in the exact same manner as James had only moments previously, and shifted a few textbooks from next to him so I could sit down.
"Only one or two." he muttered in response.
"So that translated into Sirius means about a week's worth, with a snack here and there so you don't pass out?" I said, with forced politeness.
Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Whatever, like it-"
"How many nights of sleep?" I interrupted.
"What?"
"I said, how many nights of sleep have you skipped to study?" I repeated, leaning in a little closer.
"How did you-"
"I'm a book snogger, remember? I know exactly what you're doing."
Sirius stared at me for a few minutes, something dark passing over his eyes.
"It's not like it bloody matters anyway, I'm still failing in every subject."
He let out a loud, bitter chuckle which attracted the attention of everyone in the vicinity, including a frustrated-looking James.
"You know you're not failing, you idiot. Stop being so bloody miserable." I sighed, watching his expression under my eyelashes.
Annoyance mixed with guilt crossed his face, before a grin cracked across his lips and he laughed.
He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a fuming James storming past us, coupled with a slammed door moments after.
Ignoring this, he turned back to me.
"Thanks, Moony." he murmured.
"Anytime." I grinned, standing up and making Sirius wince as my knees cracked.
I smirked, bidding him goodbye, and wandered off across the room, in search of my own study guides.
Sirius
There's a certain point within sleep deprivation infused with caffeine where you reach a state of hyper-tiredness.
It's impossible to explain unless you've experienced it, but basically entails a huge surge of energy coupled with bones that refuse to comply with releasing it. It's bloody frustrating, I can tell you that.
I reached this phenomenon during the Transfiguration test today. My handwriting was shaky, worsening my messy scrawl as jitters ran up and down my arms like hands of the devil, and my accelerating brain spat out thoughts sluggishly.
I'd spent all night revising for this, eating only a piece of toast in the morning, and hadn't slept at all. My bloody stomach was making the most disgusting sounds - gurgling and whining as it begged me for food and I laughed at it's desperation.
I finished the test in record time, proudly handing it in to McGonagall, who suspiciously ran her wand over it to ensure it was valid, which made me chuckle. The woman is so suspicious, it's hilarious.
After the test, I headed straight to the library, unintentionally staying until closing time as I studied for extra credit, and then headed to bed for few hours sleep.
However, my stomach decided to punish me for refusing to feed it, and kept me up most of the night dashing acid up my oesophagus - not the most pleasant experience. Although I got two hours sleep at the most, and I was annoyed and frustrated at the situation, the test was never a concern for me.
The next day, the angry Professor McGonagall stumbled into the classroom, dumping down a hundred sheets of parchment right next to the open window, parchment which naturally blew all the way across the room.
It took ten minutes for her to retrieve them all and angrily slam the window shut, and she reached for her goblet, to take a sip of pumpkin juice, but in her anger managed to instead pour half of it down her front.
We all regarded her nervously as the launched the goblet halfway across the classroom, with enough force to make it shatter into pieces, and as her attempt at a Cleaning spell only succeeded in singing her already ruined robes.
At breaking point, she once again attempted it, her hair in disarray, looking like one more failure would result in someone being murdured.
I saw Rems draw his wand, counter-acting her spell and re-enacting his own, and her robes became as good as new.
The sneaky little bastard winked at me as he pocketed his wand, plastering on the fakest look of innocence I've ever seen, but that the teachers just ate up, and acted as though nothing different had occurred.
The flustered teacher hastily dusted down her robes, and seized the papers, anger still bubbling in her eyes.
She slammed parchment after parchment in front of the respective owners, nearly destroying the desks in the process, until at last her eyes rested on my cocky smirk.
She rammed the paper down excessively forcefully, allowing me to glance at the P scrawled at the top, just below my trembling name, and met my gaze.
"That's right, wipe that arrogant smile from your face!" she yelled, cheeks flushed and eyes burning with malice.
Disappointment welled up inside of me, eroding my success in previous tests and lobbing themselves against my vulnerable self-esteem.
"This is completely unacceptable, Black!" she screamed, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the eyes of everyone in the class landed upon us.
"Dammit." I groaned, trying to diffuse the tension by adding a joking edge, and she slammed a hand down, the other one on her hip, leaning over me threateningly.
"Do you think this is amusing?" she jeered, in a tone exactly like my mother used to use.
"No." I snapped back, and her eyes flashed dangerously.
"You insolent little brat." she muttered, almost under her breath, unknowingly mirroring my mother's favourite insult to throw at me, just before the threw a plate or an Unforgivable straight after.
Defensive anger coursed through my veins - I was more in control here.
"Old bat." I said simply, and she snapped upright, as though electrocuted, her gaze cold.
"Excuse me?" she said quietly, and I leapt to my feet, the chair behind me tumbling to the ground, regarded with shock.
"I said, old bat! I don't have to bloody take this from a miserable old bat!" I roared, getting as close to her face as I dared, and then grinned insanely and stormed out of the classroom and slammed the door behind me.
Remus
A shocked silence was left in the furious Sirius' wake, which sobered Professor McGonagall up and froze the rest of us in a perpetual state of immense disbelief.
She slowly made her way to the front, and sank into the seat, shock etched onto her features.
"Wait for it." James muttered, breaking the spell, and as soon as I exhaled I heard a tremendous crash, sounding very much like a door slamming. James made eye contact with McGonagall, who dismissed him with an absent-minded wave of the hand, still trying to process what had just happened, and James hurried away after his best friend.
Sirius
I've never been angrier than I was in the three minutes following the outburst between McGonagall and I. After I stormed away, I paced the corridors, adrenaline and rage flooding through my veins and encompassing my being.
I stormed up the stairs, desperate for a release, and seeing the first thing that penetrated my red-clouded mind, clenched my fist and hit it as hard as I could.
James
I found him on the fifth floor corridor, sat with his knees against his chest, cradling his right hand and grimacing in pain.
Not saying a word, I dropped down next to him, humming under my breath and watching the portraits in front of us whisper suspiciously to each other. I was relatively unfazed by the situation - Sirius had been due a breakdown any day now, and McGonagall had been way out of line. So I sat beside him, waiting patiently until he stopped glaring at specks of dust and glanced up at me.
"Y'okay?" I asked, and he nodded, albeit reluctantly.
I stood up wordlessly and offered my hand out to him, which he clumsily grasped with his left, and yanked him up.
We didn't say a word the entirety of the way back, but he nodded at me and I returned the gesture, pushing the door open and ushering him in.
McGonagall pointed at the back table, and we both took a seat, waiting somewhat nervously for her to approach. Anger was still radiating off Sirius though.
However, upon her arrival she simply manifested a towel wrapped around ice, and handed it to Sirius, murmured an apology, and walked away.
I took the opportunity to look down at Sirius' hand.
The knuckles were swollen and dark purple, puddles already forming although he'd only been injured for five minutes. His fingers were slashed, openly bleeding from the brunt of the force, and a pained wince crossed his handsome face as he rested the pack on his ruined joint.