Chapter Eight
* * * * *
New Year's Eve was a clear and frosty night. There was no official school celebration: the Christmas decorations were already down and none of the staff were in the mood for another party. Instead, food for the few students still around was served to the House Common Rooms and the Heads of Houses were left in peace to celebrate in their own way.
That evening, like most evenings, the library at Hogwarts lay peaceful and quiet. The library was located on the second floor and occupied an entire wing of the castle. It was a massive space containing tens of thousands of books on shelves that were in places several storeys high – yet somehow it fitted neatly beneath the hospital wing above. Silencing charms had been placed on the floors, making it a favourite pastime of bored students to creep up behind their classmates and startle them into dropping their books so that they faced the sharp remonstrations of Madam Pince. Unfortunately the charms were effective enough that even Minerva's sharply tapping heels could not be heard. Quite a few points had been deducted from various houses whose students had been blissfully unaware of the deputy headmistress stood behind them as they misbehaved.
Minerva knew many of the students disliked the library and found its narrow passageways and constant near silence oppressive. To her, however, it was a comforting place: a place of peace and tranquillity though always with the soft murmur of voices in the distance to remind her that she was not alone. As a student she'd spent a considerable proportion of her free time here. She'd always been quite happy in her own company and knowledge fascinated her. If she didn't have homework to do she'd pick something from the shelves at random, perusing the pages with eager curiosity. The minutes would slip past unnoticed while she read. She'd often been late for Quidditch practice, much to the exasperation of her team mates who'd tolerated her frequent tardiness only because of her talent as a Seeker.
Now that she was a staff member Minerva maintained her own collection of transfiguration journals and books but often visited the library in search of wider reading. Once there she never found it easy to leave though her responsibilities now required her to. Only in the past few months had a greater attraction presented itself… an attraction that had been busy afternoon taking care of the Fwooper he had somehow managed to acquire for his third year class the following day and was now heading into Hogsmeade with the rest of the staff to see the New Year in.
But Minerva hadn't felt well enough to trek through the snow and ice to the village. Instead she'd taken advantage of his absence to visit the restricted section in search of some information on broomstick jinxing. Filius had begun work on Harry Potter's Firebolt and had invited her to join him the following evening. Minerva was determined to have the necessary knowledge at her fingertips.
As she passed the reading tables there was a sudden fluttering of pages and an abandoned copy of 'The Monster Book of Monsters' scuttled loudly across the floor and snapped its covers loudly. It startled Minerva more than she cared to admit and she shot a hasty stunning spell at it, calling an apology to Madam Pince once she realised what it was she'd hit. Honestly, as if the content of a book was not enough by itself. Why did so many inferior authors feel they had to resort to such pathetic ruses in order to sell their works? It was absolutely typical of Hagrid that he would find this amusing.
A sudden loud sniff from the corner caused Minerva to jump yet again. When she recovered her senses she took a tentative step in the direction it seemed to have come from. A moment later there was another, louder sniff and a hastily stifled sob. She strode silently around the corner and there, at the furthest end of the reading room, was the source of the noise. Books were piled high on either side of the table, almost hiding the student that sat there from view. Only a few strands of bushy brown hair served to identify her as Hermione Granger.
"Miss Granger?"
Hermione's head shot up in shock, sending several of her books tumbling off the edge of her desk to hit the floor with a resounding crash. At the same time her flailing hand knocked her ink well flying. A trail of black ink spots fell beneath it as it arched gracefully along its trajectory, only finally stopping when it met an impassable obstacle.
An obstacle that happened to be Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.
"Well," Minerva said brightly into the ensuing silence. "Never mind. No harm done."
Hermione slowly looked up.
The remains of the shattered ink well lay at Minerva's feet. Ink had covered the front of her robes turning the intricately embroidered velvet from emerald green to glistening black and she was certain some of it had splashed in her face.
Hermione gazed at her in horror, one hand covering her mouth. She looked distinctly as though she was about to burst into tears again.
Instead, much to Minerva's surprise, she hastily stifled a giggle.
With a sigh Minerva produced her wand, carefully vanishing the ink from her robes and face and the glass from the floor. Hermione's books rose gracefully into the air and stacked themselves neatly on an empty desk nearby. And finally, since after all she already had her wand out, a straight backed red armchair materialised from thin air and landed next to where Hermione was sitting.
Satisfied, Minerva sat down.
"Now," she said kindly. "Perhaps you would tell me why you've elected to spend New Year's Eve alone in the library crying?"
Hermione took a deep breath and tried hard to compose herself.
"It's nothing. I'm fine."
"Well if you're fine, why aren't you upstairs with Potter and Weasley? I'm sure that this" - she gestured towards Hermione's parchment – "can wait until tomorrow."
"I- I wanted to catch up on some reading," Hermione explained. "Professor Binns set us an essay on the 1932 goblin conspiracies and I-"
But twelve years of teaching had made Minerva an expert at spotting when she wasn't being told the truth.
"Hermione," she interrupted firmly. "The real reason, please."
Hermione stared blankly down at the desk. When Minerva leaned forward she could see the tears welling up in her young student's eyes, tears that Hermione could no longer control.
"Harry and Ron won't talk to me," she sobbed. "Because I told you about Harry's broomstick, remember? But I thought I was doing the right thing…"
Hermione broke off, shaking her head bitterly.
So, Minerva thought grimly. That explains it.
"You did do the right thing," she said gently. "What if something had happened to Pott- to Harry when he flew that broom? Mr Weasley would never forgive himself. And neither would you."
"I know."
"I expect we will have finished with it by the next match anyway. Goodness, it's more than a month away."
"It's not Harry so much, anyway. It's more Ron."
"Oh."
Minerva understood completely: years of being surrounded by adolescents had finely tuned her ears and she was adept at reading subtle undertones. She also knew there was no sense in trying to talk to either boy. Perhaps a distraction would help?
Aloud she said: "I have some new books to catalogue. It's rather a large task, I'm afraid. Would you be interested in helping me?"
Hermione nodded gratefully. Minerva passed her a handkerchief and waited whilst she quickly tidied her books away. Then she led the way downstairs to her office.
Unlike Filius Flitwick – whose unruly stacks of books doubled as a useful platform from which to teach his classes – Minerva kept the floor to ceiling bookshelves that filled two walls of her office fastidiously well organised. Her delivery from Flourish and Blotts had arrived the previous day and she hadn't yet had time to label them up and find places for them in her collection. Truth be told, she was quite glad to have company for this slightly tedious task. Remus had already refused to help, drawing the line at spending New Year's Eve cataloguing books. Once he'd realised that she wasn't going to join the rest of the staff at the Three Broomsticks he'd left her to it and gone by himself. But Hermione… well, she hadn't thought of asking Hermione until now.
Quickly she showed Hermione how her filing system worked and the two of them set to work with quills and magically sticky parchment in different hues according to the particular topic concerns. It wasn't long before Minerva could see she'd done the right thing. Hermione was completely absorbed in what she was doing, leafing through each book with wide eyed curiosity, occasionally asking questions about particular spells or transformations which Minerva was happy to answer.
When Hermione reached 'Modern Animagus Training' she seemed particularly reluctant to let it go.
"You can borrow that one if you like," Minerva said softly. "On one condition, that is."
"What?"
"That you promise me you'll do your best not to worry about Potter and Weasley and not work too hard."
Hermione nodded slowly as she put the book to one side.
"I'll try, Professor. But…"
"But what?"
"I wanted to ask you something," Hermione said hesitantly. "It's… it's about Sirius Black."
Immediately Minerva's heart sank. Hermione was a curious girl. Had she found out just how friendly Sirius had been with Remus and James? Had she guessed that Sirius was looking for Harry? It wouldn't take a genius to put it together. Perhaps Hermione had told Harry and that was the real reason why the two of them weren't speaking.
But then perhaps Harry deserved to know the truth anyway.
Minerva sighed.
"What do you want to know?" she asked resignedly.
"I overheard Professor Snape when I was in the library. He said Sirius once tried to kill him. Is that true?"
She hadn't been expecting that. She knew from her own time at Hogwarts that Severus had disliked Sirius. In fact she'd given both James and Sirius detention on more than one occasion for picking on him. But Sirius trying to kill Severus? Was that true? Perhaps Hermione had misheard.
"I expect he was… exaggerating," Minerva said aloud, unwilling to say anything more until she'd had a chance to investigate properly. "I really shouldn't worry about it, Hermione. And on that note it's getting late and you should be off to bed."
* * * * *
When Minerva finally arrived upstairs it was to find her living room empty and rather chilly. Quickly she lit a fire and went to shed her heavy winter robes in favour of pyjamas and dressing gown. She was still worried about Hermione. Weasley was stubborn, she knew, and Potter could be almost as bad. They wouldn't see that their friend had had their best interests at heart. It would be a few weeks at least before the broomstick was ready and Hermione was already struggling with a heavy workload without added stress from Potter and Weasley. Had she done the wrong thing in giving her the Time Turner? And what on earth had Snape been saying about Sirius? Weren't the students worried enough without him aggravating things?
Minerva was feeling increasingly tearful and wished Remus was back, knowing he'd give her the support and reassurance she needed. But the door remained resolutely shut. Instead she scolded herself for being so weak and decided the best thing she could do was to get some sleep.
* * * * *
The sound of the door banging noisily shut woke Minerva so suddenly she was upright and groping for her wand before she realised what was happening.
"Happy New Year!"
Remus beamed at her from the doorway, his face red from a combination of the cold and Madam Rosmerta's best Hogsmeade bitter, not to mention a round of champagne at midnight and a glass of cherry brandy for the walk home.
"Happy New Year," Minerva muttered weakly. "Honestly, Remus, did you have to wake the whole castle up? It took me long enough to get to sleep as it was."
"Sorry."
Hastily he removed his hat, gloves and travelling cloak and deposited them in an untidy heap on her dresser. Minerva was already starting to regret her sharp words. She watched him glance worriedly at her as he undressed and before she could help herself her eyes were welling up.
Instantly he was beside her.
"Minerva? What on earth's the matter?"
She reached out blindly through her tears and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close and rocking her gently in his arms.
"I'm sorry," she whispered after a moment. "I don't know what's the matter with me lately."
"You're not well," Remus said decisively. "That's what's the matter with you."
He frowned suddenly.
"Severus hasn't been upsetting you again, has he? Because if he has I'll-"
"You'll what?" she inquired icily, fixing him with the chilly stare she usually reserved for her students.
Remus shrugged cheerfully.
"I'll talk to Dumbledore. Maybe make a formal complaint."
"It's not Severus. But Remus…"
"What?"
"Why would Severus say that Sirius tried to kill him?"
Remus frowned, his eyes growing suddenly dark at the memory.
"When did he say that?"
"I don't know. Why? Is it true?"
"I suppose so. It depends on how you look at it, really."
And he told her the story of the trick Sirius had played on Snape the year after she had left Hogwarts. He hadn't been aware of it when it happened – he'd already been in the Shrieking Shack when Sirius, behaving in his usual impulsive manner, had told Severus Snape the secret of the Whomping Willow. It had been left to Peter to explain why James and Sirius weren't speaking to each other the following day.
Minerva listened in silence. She hadn't thought for a second that Severus had been telling the truth. But now that Remus had explained what had happened something else was starting to make sense.
"That was why you left, wasn't it?" she said at last.
"What do you mean?"
He got up from the bed and went to wash and change, leaving the bathroom door open so that they could carry on talking.
"When you left school. You went travelling, you said you wanted to find a cure."
There was a long pause from the bathroom and Minerva heard the sound of water running. She waited patiently until at last he emerged, shrugging his shoulders in defeat.
"Yes," he admitted. "That was why."
He extinguished the candles with a wave of his wand and climbed into bed beside her, pulling the covers back over them both and snuggling close.
"James and Sirius were particularly close. James said it was just a prank and no harm had come of it. But it wasn't so simple for me. Snape knew my secret and I could have killed him and James. Sirius was always irresponsible and didn't think about what might happen. He charged straight in. Up until then we'd been thoughtless. But I couldn't let go of it. Every time I saw James or Severus I couldn't stop thinking I might have been attending their funerals. So I left. I didn't want to be the one that wrecked our friendship."
"But you came back…" she whispered.
"Yes. When I saw Sirius again I realised how much I missed him. I missed them all – they were my best friends… my only friends. They stood by me despite what I am. And I realised it didn't matter any more. I forgave him… and then I found out the horrible truth."
Minerva felt her eyes welling up again at the thought of her beloved alone once more: two of his friends dead and the third a traitor of the worst possible kind. It seemed so unfair to her that Remus had been cruelly abandoned by the magical world for something that he had had no choice in and that had never caused him to harm another living being.
She felt her lover's hand reach out through the darkness to softly caress her cheek, stiffening suddenly when he felt the wetness of her tears.
"Oh darling, don't cry," he whispered. "It doesn't matter now. Not now I've got you. You're better than any cure."
His words and the warmth of his body against hers comforted Minerva considerably. She knew she couldn't make up for what had happened to Remus in the past, or predict what the future held for him, but she knew she'd do whatever was in her power to protect him.
"I love you," she said quietly. "I'll always be with you."
Remus said nothing but wrapped his arms more closely around her and nuzzled his head against her shoulder. She relaxed, feeling the tension drain from her body. She was tired and now - at last - she was drowsy.
From somewhere distant she heard Remus say: "There's something else I need to tell you about Sirius."
And then she fell asleep.
* * * * *
The new term began a few days later. Overnight the castle transformed, its silent, almost eerie corridors bustling once more with noisy activity. Fires were lit in the classrooms in preparation for lessons and their warmth pervaded the entire school, with the exception of the dungeons, which seemed as dank and gloomy as ever. Even the ghosts seemed in better spirits.
In the staffroom Minerva prepared for her first class with excitement. Even after a dozen years of teaching she still derived immense pleasure from her job. Her first class that morning was the Hufflepuff first year group who would no doubt have forgotten all they'd been taught the previous term in the excitement and festivities of the Christmas break and would be too thrilled about seeing their friends again to really concentrate on any proper work. Instead Minerva was planning a revision session. Transfiguring apples into toffees wasn't normally something she encouraged but as a one-off treat for the group she was prepared to make an exception.
"Where's Lover Boy this morning, then?"
Severus Snape's caustic tones cut through Minerva's reverie. She looked up to see him towering over her with his usual malevolent expression. The swelling and bruising to his nose had completely healed, aided no doubt by one of Poppy's mysterious ointments. She suspected, though, that the psychological wounds had not.
"I'm not his mother," she said aloud. "I expect he's probably upstairs getting his classroom ready, don't you?"
"Are you sure about that?"
Impatiently she gathered her lesson notes and stood to leave.
"As I have explained to you before, Severus, I love Remus. And part of loving someone is trusting them. A big part, as a matter of fact."
Severus scowled darkly.
"I wish you would not persist in talking about love as something only you have experienced," he said irritably. "It might surprise you to learn-"
"Severus?" Venus Sinistra called from the doorway, oblivious to their conversation. "Can I talk to you about this rota? Because I really don't think it's fair."
"It's perfectly fair!" he snapped impatiently. "Look, bring it here and I'll show you."
As he turned Minerva stopped him with a hand on his forearm.
"Learn what?" she asked curiously.
He held her gaze for a moment.
"Never mind."
* * * * *
By the evening Minerva was exhausted – not because her day had been unpleasant but merely from the effort of trying to make four groups of high spirited children calm down and concentrate on their work. Even at dinner the Great Hall had been unusually raucous, though Minerva had been a little concerned to see that Hermione, Ron and Harry were still not speaking. But before she could dwell on the situation her train of thought had been disturbed by Remus asking if the seat next to her was taken. They'd talked through most of their meal, having hardly spoken all day. Finally they'd finished dessert and he'd suggested an early night. She'd been only too happy to accept and had followed him towards the stairs as soon as the hall started to empty.
Just as they reached the fourth floor landing a sudden wave of dizziness overtook Minerva and she had to grasp hold of the banisters in order to stay upright. She could hear Remus shouting in the distance, asking her if she was all right. A moment later she felt his arms around her shoulders as he lifted her up and then there was only darkness.
When she came round she was lying on her bed. Remus was leaning over her wearing an extremely concerned expression.
"Thanks goodness," he said with obvious relief. "I was just about to fetch Poppy."
"I'm fine. I was just a bit dizzy – that's all."
"No," Remus said firmly. "This has gone on long enough. Minerva, you're obviously not well and I'm tired of watching you suffer. I want you to promise me that tomorrow morning you'll go and see Poppy and find out what's wrong. Before it's too late."
There was a distinct note of desperation in his voice and Minerva felt a sudden twinge of guilt. She was ill, she realised. And Remus was right: she needed to do something about it.
Gently she squeezed his hand.
"I'll see Poppy first thing," she agreed. "I promise."