Y'know, I keep trying and trying to get back in a rhythm. This one's been in process for ages and then finished itself completely last night at two in the morning. Maybe now's the time? How are we all?
7 June 1994
It was half-past one in the morning when it was all finally sorted out—as much as possible, anyhow. Kingsley Shacklebolt, who, once revived, proved to be uninjured (though he had no memory of Black's escape and suspected strongly that he had been Obliviated with his own wand), was dispatched to assemble his team of Aurors and coordinate the evacuation of all dementors in the area back to Azkaban. Macnair returned to the Ministry with him. Minerva, Pomona, and Filius recounted their utterly mundane and significantly unhelpful reports of the hour before midnight to Dumbledore, in the presence of Cornelius Fudge.
Snape, however, was conspicuously absent from these proceedings. Though Minerva was at first curious to find out what had transpired in the hospital wing after Black's escape, she found that after hearing Fudge bluster about the Daily Prophet's reaction and his embarrassment for the dozenth time, she had truly stopped caring and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. She'd finally drifted off around three o'clock, after awaiting a flash of fire—a sign from Fawkes, which Dumbledore had sent to indicate that he and Hagrid had successfully located Remus Lupin in the Forbidden Forest and brought him back to the castle.
She ought to have known, she thought later, that Snape's disappearing act was too good to last.
Minerva emerged from her room well after breakfast the following morning, having salvaged a few hours of restless sleep, punctuated with disturbing dreams of dementors and rats as she, trapped in her cat form, was chased by a hulking beast she couldn't see or outrun. Tea wasn't going to do the trick this morning, she thought, yawning into the back of her hand as she walked into her office—and nearly smacked into Charity Burbage, who was pacing the length of the room frantically.
"Oh!" she yelped, seizing Minerva's elbows and righting her. "Minerva—I'm so sorry, but the door was open, I thought you'd be back any moment—"
Charity's flyaway blonde hair and wide, slightly bulging eyes gave her a manic look under normal circumstances, but at the moment, she looked especially panicky.
"That's all right, Charity. I must've left it unlocked," said Minerva, stifling another yawn. "What can I do for you?"
"I—well—I didn't—I didn't know who to speak to—I didn't see you or the headmaster at breakfast, you see—"
"Ah—well, we all had rather a late night," Minerva told her. "I was going to call a staff—"
"I know!" Charity said unexpectedly. "Everyone knows! Sirius Black escaped again, even after being captured, but—"
Minerva sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. "Of course—the Daily Prophet—"
"Well, yes," Charity acceded, "but I was talking about—oh, maybe I—I could be wrong."
"I'm sorry? Wrong about…?"
Charity bit her lip, and then burst out, "Remus Lupin!"
Minerva stared at her, confused. "What about Remus Lupin?"
Remus's involvement in the evening's events had been carefully excised from the report given to Fudge, who was grudgingly accepting of the story that he had been there to save Harry, Ron, and Hermione from Black. Even Snape, after all, had not had sufficient grounds to connect him, even circumstantially, to Black's presence in the Shrieking Shack, and had been in any case far more interested in advancing his own heroism in capturing a notorious criminal in his account of the story.
"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Charity said, tears starting to fill her eyes. "The students know, Minerva—they know he's a werewolf! It's all round the school—"
"What? How?"
Charity pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "Well, I—I may be wrong," she said again, her expression miserable. "I just overheard a conversation—but they said—that is—I thought they said—"
"Which students?" Minerva interrupted, her teeth gritted.
Charity was wringing her hands. "I don't know their names—"
But Minerva realized she didn't want the answer; she was already halfway to the door before Charity finished the sentence.
"But Minerva—"
"Thank you for telling me," she said over her shoulder, as she practically broke into a run down the corridor, Charity scurrying after her, still distressed and apologizing profusely.
Minerva's mind was whirring, barely aware of what Charity was saying—one dark idea made her wonder, briefly, whether Remus had let his secret slip in some self-flagellating act of penance for allowing himself to forget a dose and transform in the vicinity of students—but she was all but certain that it wasn't him. It was possible, of course, that he'd recovered swiftly enough to start the rumor at breakfast—but not likely, and she was quite sure that Potter, Granger, and Weasley were all intelligent and compassionate enough to keep quiet on the subject of last night's revelation. Which only left…
She shook herself. What was the good in going there now? Ignoring the rumble of hunger in her stomach—and she certainly no longer felt any desire for coffee, her blood was pumping so hard—Minerva mounted the stairs two at a time.
Minerva knocked twice, and pushed open the office door, Charity bumping into her shoulder. Remus looked up from his desk, where he was sifting through papers and books. He was packing.
"Good morning, Minerva. Charity," he nodded, a sheaf of parchment in one hand. He looked terrible, but managed to give them both a wan smile.
It was Charity who recovered first. "Oh, Remus, I'm so sor—" she began, but then she seemed to choke on her words. She pressed past Minerva, who was rooted on the threshold, and moved around Remus's desk to take his hand. He accepted hers with a smile.
"It was my decision. The right choice," he assured her.
Charity smiled. "I do wish I'd gotten to know you better. Stay in touch, won't you?"
"Of course." Remus's smile grew brighter, and Charity nodded, before slipping out of the office past Minerva and leaving them alone.
Once she was gone, Remus's brave face fell away, and he dropped the parchment on his desk. He waited for Minerva to speak, his hands in his pockets.
"I'm not accepting your resignation," she told him quietly, closing the door. "It's not happening."
"You're about half an hour too late," he said, with a miserable sort of smile. "And, with all due respect, it's not your decision."
"I'll kill that old codger, you see if I don't," Minerva muttered.
"If it helps at all, he tried very hard to talk me out of it. And he nearly succeeded," Lupin gave a sigh and sank stiffly into his desk chair, a resigned look on his face. "But we both know it's no good, Minerva."
Minerva felt a lump of emotion rise and block her throat, and moved to sit across from him. "I don't believe that. I don't think anyone in this castle would, either."
Lupin raised his eyebrows and gave a hollow laugh.
"Clearly you've never seen me handle angry parents," Minerva told him coldly.
"It's not the parents I worry about," Lupin replied delicately. He blinked. "You know, Hermione Granger has known for months?"
Minerva shook her head, confused.
"Six months, I believe she said." He ran a hand through his graying hair. "She's Muggle-born—and a brilliant, brilliant young witch, of course—but even growing up outside of our world…" he sighed. "She knew from the moment she figured it out how imperative it was to keep the secret, for my sake. And she did. Even from her own best friends. What does that tell you about what she knows of our world?" he asked ruefully.
Minerva couldn't speak, her throat blocked again by emotion.
Remus went on, "And when she finally did tell them—she weaponized it, as a piece of proof of my… betrayal. Proof that I worked to help Sirius reach Harry. I don't blame her," he told Minerva, who had stiffened. "She's just as much a product of our society's mistrust of my kind as I am. As you are. You never imagined working at Hogwarts alongside a werewolf—"
"That's true," Minerva interrupted him, "but that doesn't mean I was right. And it doesn't mean that you deserve to be an outcast—"
"Who said anything about that?" he asked her, and for the first time, a real smile flickered in his features. "Haven't you heard? My oldest friend has been exonerated—to an extent. And one of my dearest friends, and greatest mentors has promised me a dazzling letter of recommendation to my next job."
Minerva felt the tears rise swiftly, burning her nose and eyes. Without a word, she stood up and came round Lupin's desk. He rose, and they embraced tightly for several long moments.
"Come on, now," he told her, drawing back and patting her arm. "It's not the last time we'll see each other. You know that."
She sniffed once and nodded. "Of course not. But until then…" she cleared her throat, "Do stay out of trouble, won't you, Mr. Lupin?"
Remus smiled. "I'll do my best, Professor McGonagall."
When Minerva left Remus's office to allow him to finish packing, it was with a profound weight slung about her shoulders. He'd been her first stop because—well, she simply cared. Her grief and desire to protect him overwhelmed her fury at the situation, and now she simply felt—sad. For a moment, she stood in the center of the corridor, gazing down at her own hands.
A cluster of students rounded the corner. They didn't seem to take note of her, nor she of them.
"Between that idiot Hagrid and his killer hippogriff, and the werewolf, I'll be amazed if the school governors allow Dumbledore to stay through the summer," a drawling voice from the center of the knot of passing students said loudly, as they passed Remus's door. "Firing the werewolf won't be good enough this time, mark my words—"
With a sudden, pulsing pressure in her temples, Minerva saw the white-blonde back of Draco Malfoy's head. She grit her teeth and stormed off in the opposite direction, flying toward the stairs.
This time, she didn't bother knocking, but flung the office door open with a sweep of her wand. It banged and rattled noisily off the stone wall.
Severus Snape sat behind his desk, beneath a shelf full of unpleasant-looking jars of preserved potion ingredients. He glanced up at her, and then back down at his pile of marking, idly flipping a page.
"Yes?"
"How dare you."
Snape did not look at her or say a thing, but his lips pursed. He scratched something out on the parchment before him and turned it over.
Minerva's heartbeat was thundering in her ears—she actually had pulsing lights hovering at the edges of her vision, she was so angry. She could barely force herself to form coherent words. "You—you're utterly heartless. Do you know that?"
Snape's black eyes flicked up to meet hers; she could see that he was quite as furious as she was, if not more so. Still, he didn't speak.
"What has Remus Lupin done to you, that you can't move on after twenty years—"
His lip curled. "I have no idea what you are—"
"Do not lie to me, Severus Snape," Minerva barked. He set down his quill and folded his hands, inviting her to go on. "I am putting you on disciplinary warning, effective immediately—"
At this, Snape cracked a lazy half-smile. "Do you really think Dumbledore will get rid of me?"
"I don't care what he does with you, so long as you stay the hell out of my sight for the foreseeable future—you arrogant, self-aggrandizing, inhumane coward," Minerva spat.
All traces of a sneer vanished from his lips. "I beg your pardon?"
"Then beg, you monstrous traitor," she retorted, her voice almost cracking on the last word. She stormed to the office door, where she paused briefly to look back at Snape's profile; he sat motionless in his desk chair, gazing at the spot she'd just left. "You know, you had me quite fooled—I truly thought you had become a better man than this."
He made a sound in his throat like a scoff, but did not reply.
"Disciplinary warning, one year, minimum," she barked back at him. "You'll have the formal paperwork this evening. Watch your step, Snape."