A/N: Remus's time with Minerva! Thank you for all of the fabulous reviews.
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
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"Erm, good morning, Professor McGonagall."
She really shouldn't be doing this.
"Good morning, Mr. Lupin."
She really, really shouldn't be doing this.
"The weather is nice today, isn't it?"
This was definitely on the list of the top ten things that she should not do.
"It's uncommonly warm for March, isn't it?"
But she was, in fact, doing it.
She was interfering in students' love lives.
"Yes. We were—erm—discussing that yesterday."
She was interfering in Sirius's love life.
"So was—eh—I."
But it was all for the greater good, wasn't it?
Remus Lupin sat uncomfortably across from Minerva, his hands folded in his lap and his back straight. He was, obviously, confused about why he was in her office. She had seen the confusion flit across his face when she had requested that he come down to her office after breakfast. It was a sunny Saturday morning, and she knew that he and Sirius had been planning to spend the afternoon by the lake. (She wasn't sure if James and Peter were involved; she had only eavesdropped on the relevant bits.) She figured that she would be able to get in an hour before they departed, which was exactly what she needed.
"Professor McGonagall," Remus started, "would you mind, er, informing me why exactly I'm here? Not that I don't enjoy speaking to you, but I'm curious."
Minerva took a moment to be thankful for the fact that students like Remus Lupin existed. As much as she enjoyed (it would take a stampede of wild thestrals to force her to admit it) Sirius, Remus was his complete opposite—and wonderful, at that.
Remus was the sort of student that most professors loved. His work was always in on time, he didn't disturb class, and he actually did extra credit. He even called her Professor McGonagall. Amongst students, this had become a rarity. She was now known as "the Big McG". Always behind her back, of course, and "Professor McGonagall" to her face, although there were certain exceptions. James and Sirius called her Minnie (in class, Professor McG). Although she did rather enjoy the nicknames (again, wild thestrals), it was refreshing to hear a moniker of respect.
It wasn't exactly a new thing for Remus to be in Minerva's office. He had been reprimanded for pranks on many occasions, although it had been quite some time since he had been to her office when he was innocent. Through first and second year, though, Remus had visited Minerva every month. They had both pretended that they were just nice, casual visits, but they had known what the visits really were—counseling sessions.
Five days after the full moon, Remus would drop by and talk to Minerva about things like homework, essays, the moon, and, most importantly, how he was adjusting. Minerva could still remember their visit in November of first year. Remus had told Minerva, eyes shining, that he had three friends—Sirius, James, and Peter. She could remember her heart breaking and mending—if possible—at the same time as eleven-year-old Remus excitedly explained to her that these three boys were his first friends ever.
"And then Sirius said, 'What are friends for?'" Remus had recapped excitedly. "Friends, Professor McGonagall! He's my friend, and so are Peter and James!"
Their visits had slowly become shorter during second year, then diminished in third. It was because in second year, on a December afternoon, Remus had told Minerva that his three best mates had figured out that he was a werewolf—and didn't care!
"Sirius said, 'Of course nothing will change, you daft prat! You're still our same Remus. You just have a slightly…furry issue that appears for a few hours every month. We're not going to run for the hills because of that!'" Remus had laughed joyously, eyes shining. "James said that I was one of his best mates, and he would never abandon me because of my 'furry little problem', as did Peter. They know, Professor McGonagall! They know, and they don't care!"
After that, she supposed, Remus had found counseling in his friends—although she rather suspected that he was the best counselor out of the group. Still, he hadn't needed her anymore.
She could remember those times from first and second year. She could remember every hope, every dream, every small, seemingly mundane thing that excited Remus beyond belief.
Now, more than four years later, they were back in her office, this time for another reason.
She was going to advise him.
About his love life.
About Sirius.
About whom he should date.
About…he was gay, right?
That thought came to Minerva suddenly. Was Remus gay? She wasn't quite sure. Then again, she hadn't guessed that Sirius was gay (perhaps a bit curious, but never gay), so maybe she had no idea with Remus. She would have to approach the issue delicately, though, because this was simply something that professors did not out-rightly ask their pupils.
"I just wanted to"— Minerva cleared her throat—"talk to you about…life. We haven't talked in a bit, have we?"
Remus smiled in an odd, confused sort of way, nodding his head. "Yes. It has been a bit."
"So, how are things with you?"
"Fine. Just fine. You?"
"Oh, great."
"That's…nice." Remus's smile was still strained.
Minerva decided to get straight to the point…sort of. "How about…erm…a girlfriend? Have one? Broken up with one? Want one? Or, perhaps, a…erm…friend of the…uh…male persuasion..."
"Are you trying to ask if I'm gay?" Remus enquired, amused. His eyes seemed to be laughing, and the corners of his lips were tugged up in a genuine smile.
"Yes," Minerva admitted, deciding to be straightforward. "Was I that terribly obvious?"
"Terribly, Professor."
"Minerva," she said quickly. Remus cocked his head to the side, shooting her a confused look. "I'm sorry," she said in a rush, "but I can't discuss sexuality with a person that calls me 'Professor'. It's unnerving."
"That's quite alright, Minerva. Call me Remus in return. It's odd enough to be discussing anyone's sexuality, especially mine, with a professor who calls me 'Mr. Lupin'."
"Okay, Remus," Minerva agreed. "Now…?"
"Am I gay?" Remus supplied, his eyes still dancing. The light calmed, though, as his teeth sunk carefully into his bottom lip, thinking. "Yes," he said finally. "I am gay."
"Good," Minerva breathed, and Remus's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Minerva quickly bit her tongue, realizing that most students would think that it was strange for a professor to be so relieved that they are gay. Minerva coughed loudly. "I mean…er…good that you told me the truth."
"I wouldn't dream of lying to you, Minerva."
Minerva was fully convinced that Remus had spent too much time near Albus. His eyes were dancing in that bemused, smug way, and it was driving her mad, as it did when Albus did so.
"If I may ask, why do you want to know?"
"I'm just…naturally curious, I suppose."
"Really?" Remus raised an eyebrow.
Minerva had no idea how Sirius, James, and Peter were able to put up with Remus. He was so…omniscient. It was as if with the quirk of his lips and the lift of an eyebrow, he knew everything that she was thinking, feeling, and trying to push out of her mind. For Merlin's sake, he probably already knew that Sirius fancied him, and was just being a nice, good mate and not saying anything about it. The boy was probably a bloody mind-reader and was just humoring the rest of the world by pretending that he had no idea what they were thinking.
She made a mental note to not let Albus and Remus spend any time alone together. They'd rub off on each other, and make everything worse for her. For Sirius, too.
"And…I…erm…had my…eh…suspicions."
Okay, so it wasn't entirely true. Fine, it wasn't true in the least. But, really, what else could she say? Sirius and I spoke yesterday. Guess what? He's gay, and he's mad for you! So I decided to drag you down here and see if I can get the two of you together, because Albus won't get me cable and I care about you two too much for my own bloody good!
Oh, yes. That would go over well.
"Suspicions?"
Minerva noted with a slight bit of sadistic pleasure that Remus was no longer smiling and all-knowing and confident. His lips were pressed together in a thin line, and his fingers were interwoven. In a quiet voice, he asked, "Is it that obvious?"
Instantly, Minerva felt awful. Oh, what had she done? She was eavesdropping, matchmaking, conspiring, and worrying innocent people! This was not proper behavior, and she knew it.
…but why was it so impossible to stop?
"It—it isn't," Minerva quickly stuttered. "No, not at all. It's just…I'm your Head of House. I know these things. No one else does, though. So no need to worry."
She actually felt pretty confident that her nervous statements were true. After all, if Sirius hadn't known Remus was gay, who else would? She couldn't imagine Peter or James being any more perceptive than Sirius, who was, as he said, in love with Remus. Surely Remus's other two friends wouldn't have noticed anything more than Sirius, which meant that no one else—with the exception of Lily Evans, possibly—could know.
"Good." Remus slowly released a deep breath. "You sure?"
"Pretty positive."
"Good," Remus said again, nodding his head.
Minerva supposed he had a right to be nervous. She couldn't exactly say that everyone would be fine with Remus (and Sirius) being gay. Their close friends, of course, would accept them, and she was sure that most Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs would be fine with it.
Ravenclaws, on the other hand, would hate the Marauders no matter what they did. After the Great Library Stunt of '74 (which Remus hadn't taken part in, but was still held in account for, since he hadn't stopped them, although he hadn't known about the plan in the first place), the Marauders were forever blacklisted in the house of Ravenclaw. They even had a dartboard in their common room with a picture of the Marauders tacked to it. Sirius's face was covered with so many holes that you wouldn't have been able to tell it was him if you hadn't seen the original pictures. Gay or not, Ravenclaws were forever against Sirius, and, to a lesser extent, Remus.
Slytherins were obvious: they would attempt to make Remus and Sirius's lives miserable. It was in their nature. The homosexuality would just give them more ammunition.
"So…Remus." Minerva cleared her throat. "Do you, perhaps, fancy anyone? Any bloke?"
Remus looked at her strangely. "Yeeeees," he said slowly, drawing out the word. "I've taken a bit of a fancy to someone. Why?"
Fully aware of how ridiculous she was acting, Minerva crossed two fingers behind her face and thought Sirius. Sirius. Please let him fancy Sirius. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease. Remus and Sirius. Moon and star. Come on, they were made for each other! RemusandSirius RemusandSirius RemusandSirius.
She wouldn't really be very surprised if Albus brought in a few Healers from St. Mungo's to escort her to the psych ward. At this point, she actually thought that a week's stay would be good for her barely-intact sanity.
"You do seem to be awfully curious about many things, Minerva."
There it was again. Those laughing eyes, that lilting voice. He knew something. He probably knew everything. And, perhaps, if she could gather her wits and remember how to form proper sentences, she would be able to find out what exactly he knew.
"Who is he?" she blurted out.
What is wrong with you, Minerva? You've been teaching at Hogwarts for the past twenty-two years! Twenty-two! You know not to do this. Professors do not interfere with students' personal lives, they do not set up meetings to find out who students fancy, and they do not attempt to get students together! It's all really simple! WHY CAN'T YOU GRASP THAT?
Because I care about my students too much for my own bloody good! There you go! Now, leave me alone! This is hard enough; I don't need my conscience harping on me every few seconds. I can handle this!
Minerva's conscience pulled a face before turning on its heel and stalking away, leaving her mind in a slightly more peaceful state. Shaking her head, she snapped back into the reality of Remus's white hands and shocked expression.
"Do you—do you really need to know this?" Remus stuttered, incredulous. "I mean—is it really necessary?"
"Of course!" Minerva responded quickly. "It's for…Quidditch! Oh, yes, Quidditch! That's it!"
"You need to know…who I fancy…because of…Quidditch," Remus deadpanned. Minerva fought down a flush when she realized just how daft her excuse really was.
"Yes! Quidditch and such! See, erm, if the bloke you fancy is on the….er…Quidditch team, he might be…eh…uncomfortable, which would…eck…ruin his playing."
With a simple quirk of an eyebrow, Minerva immediately knew that Remus saw through her. Fortunately, he humored her by saying, "No, he's not."
She nearly smiled. This was a good thing. Sirius had been kicked off the Quidditch team in third year, after The Great Tsunami Incident. He was, in fact, banned from the pitch. That ruled out…four blokes.
Minerva's heart sank when she realized that it was true. She had only ruled out Xavier Jordan, Andrew Bell, George Wood, and James Potter. The other three players were female, and were off her list to begin with. Still, she supposed to scratching off James was a good thing. He and Remus were very close.
"Is he good with Herbology?" she asked.
Remus regarded her with a strange look, but answered, "No. He hasn't the patience for plants."
Again, Minerva felt like jumping up and dancing. There went Peter. He was ace at Herbology, his best subject and James and Sirius's worse. Sirius hadn't the patience for plants. She had heard him insisting that they were slow, dull, and mundane, or evil pods of doom. Either way, they didn't make pretty explosions, and, as he said, "had it out for him."
There went two of Remus's best friends, with only one left. She had a good feeling about this.
"Gryffindor?"
"Is this Twenty Questions?" Remus asked. "I'd like to know."
Minerva had the decency to flush slightly as she searched for a reply.
"Well, you see, I can just tell this is obviously burdening you, and as your Head of House, I thought that I could be of some service. If we could perhaps speak about it freely—"
"Sirius," Remus said abruptly, and Minerva was aware of her heart skipping a few beats.
"Repeat that?" she said quickly, wanting assurance for what she had just heard.
"Sirius. I fancy Sirius," Remus repeated bluntly. "I bloody well fancy Sirius."
Minerva had to admit that she was a bit shocked. She hadn't expected this. It was Sirius-like behavior, James-like behavior, Lily-like behavior, even, but she had never heard it from Remus.
He had just said bloody.
Get over that, Minerva! that irritating little voice in her head urged her. The bloke just admitted he fancies Sirius. I'm giving you permission to do a mental happy dance. Take advantage of that!
Minerva allowed herself a fifteen second mental happy dance before returning her attention to Remus, who seemed to be in a state of shock. Whether it was because he had frankly admitted that he fancied Sirius or because he had said a curse word in front of a professor, Minerva didn't know.
"I think," Remus said in a low, rasping voice, "that you just managed to convince me to admit who I fancied using terribly obvious persuasion methods."
"I did."
"Cor."
Remus and Sirius really weren't that different, were they? They both underestimated Minerva, and got quite a shock when she proved them wrong.
The fact that she had proved them both wrong completely by accident really didn't count.
"I really don't know why," Remus said, apparently over his shock. "I mean, this school is chock full of blokes. Handsome blokes. Smart blokes. Funny blokes. But, somehow, none of them are even close to Sirius. He's just so…beautiful. And clever. And witty. No one else can compare."
Oddly, Minerva could agree with Remus. Whilst she wasn't as willing to list Sirius's greater attributes, she would admit that no one could compare to Sirius. He was in another league; another category. He was just so wonderfully different.
"He's an oxymoron," Remus went on, "but when I tell them that, he gets indignant and tells me that he is not a moron, thank you very much. But he is. An oxymoron, I mean, not a moron.He contradicts himself in the most delicious way, and he's completely clueless about it.
"He has the worst handwriting of anyone I've ever met, yet he sits behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder whilst I'm writing an essay and points out that my 'i's are un-dotted and my 'a's look wonky and takes the quill from my hand and crosses every single one of my 't's so they don't look like 'l's. And he does it all with that distinct smile, not the one that he flashes his fan club or gives you, but that small, Sirius smile that he only gives me. And it makes me feel so…I dunno. Just so special. Because I have that smile, and no one else does.
"He probably has more family issues than the rest of Hogwarts combined. He laughs at the most inappropriate times, and he has repressed everything that remotely resembles a manner or politeness. He doesn't know what's going on half of the time, and the other half he's controlling everything. He loves eyeliner and spends hours trying to convince me to pierce my ears and has every Bowie record available, along with every Beatles record. He loves Muggle mystery novels, he is obsessed with that Muggle cartoon, Peter Pan, his favorite number is one hundred forty-seven, and he says the most random things at the most random times.
"Also—his arms. You've seen his arms. They're like the equivalent of parchment to him. He jots down notes and things to remember and interesting facts on his wrists, his hands, his forearms. And when you grab onto his arm, or wrist, or hand, you pull away with your hands darker, or with faintly smudged words on them. He'll write on other people, too; just grab their arms and write down a quote or lyric or word that he likes. I once went around a week with the lyrics to 'Eleanor Rigby' written on my right forearm, because he decided that it was his new favorite song. Then, the next day, he'll decide that he likes a Bowie song better, and I'll have 'Ziggy Stardust' written in circles around my wrists. He's just…great like that.
"He's moody, though. You know that as well as I do. When he's in a mood, he's horrible. He just barricades himself behind his bed hangings until I burst in with chocolate and an inordinate amount of patience. My mum used to say I had the patience of a saint, which really isn't true, because a saint would give up on Sirius before I do. I just sit there and wait for him to confess his problems.
"For the past three weeks, I've listened to every half-arsed excuse he's come up with. I've listened to every single lie, and I've smiled, nodded, and accepted it. Something is wrong with him, and I do admit, I'm bloody hurt, because he tells me everything that's wrong with him. Jim is his best friend, sure, but he doesn't know half as much about Sirius as I do. I know how to deal with him, how to take care of him, what to do when Sirius's face turns white and his hands start shaking.
"I probably even know too much about him, which is perhaps why I fancy him. Actually, I don't even think I really fancy him. I'm pretty sure I'm in love with him, and I have absolutely no idea how I'm able to say this so calmly, so don't ask me. But, that's probably it. Yes, I'm in love with Sirius Black."
Minerva wanted to smile. She wanted to smile, and dance, and sing, and possibly embarrass herself in front of the entirety of Hogwarts. She was just that happy. This was all good. It was a good thing; these were good things.
"You love Sirius," McGonagall repeated, pressing the soles of her boots firmly into the floor. "You do?"
"Yes," Remus clarified. "Yes, I do."
What could she say? Sirius loves you too! He told me yesterday! Now, go and snog by the lake.
She wanted to. She really, really wanted to. She would carry Remus to Sirius herself. But, somehow, she didn't think that either would take it too well. She would have to be more…crafty. So, instead, Minerva yelped, "Fantastic!" as she stood up.
Remus looked at Minerva, concerned. She ignored his look, grabbing his upper arm and hauling him out of his seat.
"It was very nice talking to you," Minerva said hurriedly. "Now, go and enjoy the rest of your Saturday. Have fun! Goodbye!"
With that, she shoved Remus out the door and slammed it shut in his shocked face. As soon as she heard footsteps disappearing down the corridor, she jumped up into the air and began dancing.
She had some scheming to do.