Hi there readers! I've always loved the Marauders from the beginning of my foray into reading fanfiction. So obviously, they will pop up in this fic. A note on this oneshot: It's four parts spanning Sirius' first year, fifth year, and sixth year at Hogwarts and how McGonagall's perspective changes. Let me know what you think!

-Cat

II - Snakeskin, Lionheart

(Minerva M. and Sirius B.)

Marauder Era, 1971-1976

She had never expected the Headmaster to say the words, "I want to accept a werewolf into Hogwarts this year." Minerva was stunned into silence, so the Headmaster went on. "He is, as I understand it, a bright young man. He deserves a chance."

"Okay." She hoped her expression was neutral. "What arrangements are we going to put into place?"

Through the whole conversation, she offered no argument. Because she believed that every person should be judged fairly. Students deserved someone who could believe in them. And she could not break that, even if said student was affected by lycanthropy.

Nonetheless, Minerva prepared for her code to be tested the year Remus Lupin came to Hogwarts. What surprised her was that Lupin would not be the one who tested her resolve not to judge. It would be the young boy who was striding straight-backed to the stool in front of the entire Great Hall. Black, Sirius. The heir of the ancient wizarding family. Of course, he would be a Slytherin.

He grinned brightly at her and sat on the stool. Before the hat slipped over his eyes, Minerva saw him wink at someone in the crowd of nervously shuffling first years. The hat deliberated. Within thirty seconds, it had a house chosen-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Black boy whipped off the hat and handed it back to Minerva, beaming. The smattering applause from the students was perfunctory, coming mostly from muggle-born students. The Slytherin table glowered. An unsorted first year boy whooped with glee. He was easy to spot, messy dark hair flopping all over the place, glasses crooked. A Potter for sure.

As for Minerva, she kept her face blank. Every person deserved a chance. Especially the ones in her own house.

By the end of the night, she had several new charges besides the Black heir, including the pale young werewolf. This was going to be an interesting seven years.

"Black! Potter!"

Minerva's sharp voice rang out across the Great Hall, not for the first time. Black had wasted no time in proving that he was the misfit of the family. The boy was a whirlwind of energy who defied authority and hated anything having to do with Slytherin or pureblood mania. He had struck up an immediate friendship with his dorm-mates and earned the admiration from his peers. But Minerva had definite reservations. He was careless, disrespectful, emotionally charged, and laughed at the detriment of others. Which was why he was in trouble now.

Minerva stormed down from the head table. The two boys were trying and failing not to giggle. Black was very red in the face and Potter looked like he might be choking. Next to them, Peter Pettigrew was wide-eyed and pale at being caught. Remus Lupin looked impressively innocent, eating his cereal, a transfiguration book propped against his tea. But Minerva knew better by now. These four would be the end of her sanity for sure. And it's only spring of their first year…

"Explain," she instructed coldly when she reached them.

"Well Minnie-" Black began. Potter snorted.

"Mr. Black," Minerva warned.

"My apologies. Minerva, you seem to have misinterpreted an act of mercy as something untoward. I assure you, our intentions are pure."

Lupin nearly lost his composure at this. But the only hint was a twitch of his eyebrow.

"There is nothing pure about your intentions, Mr. Black," Minerva said stiffly.

"Why, Professor, what on earth are you implying?" he exclaimed dramatically. There was a tittering throughout the Great Hall, but as Minerva glared around, it stopped abruptly. She exhaled sharply through her nostrils. Hopeless…

"Your prank was cruel and undeserved. Detention tonight, all four of you." Lupin sighed in resignation.

"But he looks so much better without his hair!"

"I'm sure Mr. Snape would disagree with you, Mr. Black. As for the rest of Slytherin house-"

"Their hair will return to their natural colors around noon," Lupin informed her.

Minerva sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was an impressive charm for first years, especially if it was timed. But she had learned to expect quite a lot from her boys. My boys? Shaking her head, she said, "I will tell you the time and location of your individual detentions in class today."

The rest of the day passed uneventfully enough for Hogwarts. Minerva taught her classes, dispelled three arguments, gave out two more detentions, deducted house points, added house points, praised a student for finally transfiguring a mouse into a matchbox...in the end, it was a blur. When there was a firm knock on her office door that evening, she had already forgotten about the detentions she handed out to the Gryffindor first years.

"Come in," she said without looking up from her grading. The door swung open.

"Good evening, Minnie."

She closed her eyes. Right. She checked a clock sitting on her desk.

"Mr. Black, I've been expecting you. You're five minutes late."

"Yeah," he replied without offering an explanation. He lounged in the chair across from her. "What am I doing? Lines?"

"No, Mr. Black, you'll be cleaning the cages."

"What?" His aura of aloofness faded into confusion.

She stood and lead him to a door off her office. The room was quite large and lined with windows. Rows of cages held mice, hedgehogs, guinea pigs, rabbits, various reptiles, and several species of birds. All were subjects of her transfiguration lessons.

"Whoa," Black breathed, seeming more awed than intimidated. She was beginning to feel apprehensive about setting the boy loose among her animals.

"Just the mice and the hedgehogs, Mr. Black. You may not use magic, as it tends to make them nervous."

"Okay." He immediately set his wand against the wall on the floor and rolled up his sleeves. There was no mischievous glint in his eyes, but Minerva was still rather suspicious. When she left, she kept the door open just in case.

Doing her best to focus on her work, she reshuffled the stack of pages on her desk and dipped her quill into scarlet ink. Her fifth year essays were comparing and contrasting the anatomy of a reptile versus a mammal and why it affects transfiguration spells. She read through them, making frustrated red marks. So far, only a few had given an acceptable explanation.

After about twenty minutes, her ears tuned into the background noise and heard Black's voice emanating from the room of creatures. This was odd. Even odder, instead of being very loud and brash, it was a gentle tone of conversation. She could not hear what he was saying, but it made her pause. With a small smile, Minerva realized that he was speaking to the mice as he cleaned their bedding. This was a side of Black she had never had the privilege to see (or hear). It nearly paradoxical compared to the bold, cheeky Black she knew. And yet, it fit.

Minerva found herself wondering, once again, how he had come from that family. She recalled with ringing clarity the howler Sirius received the day after the sorting. The boy currently chatting with her creatures next door was nothing like that raving woman. How had he escaped being ruined by her?

He was resilient. It was the only explanation. A boy whose character could not be crushed. For the first time, Minerva was very proud to have him amongst her Gryffindors.

She returned to making red marks across Gilderoy Lockhart's essay, strangely eased by Sirius' soft discussion with the little creatures. Perhaps not as hopeless as she thought. He was done in an hour and emerged, brushing sawdust from his robes and pocketing his wand.

"You've got a really grumpy hedgehog in cage three. I feel sorry for the poor sod that has to deal with him," he said with a wide grin. "That all Minnie?"

She felt a flash of irritation at the nickname, but it was not as strong as before.

"Yes Mr. Black. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Professor."

"Mr. Black? Your detention is not until tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know. I thought I'd just… get a head start I guess…"

He gestured vaguely in the direction of the room of creatures. Minerva delivered him a scrutinizing stare, which he avoided. He'd grown very tall, she realized. Her boys were all growing like weeds, nothing like the scrawny first years they used to be. And since then Sirius had become more boisterous, more antagonistic to the teachers, more outspoken, and very closely bonded to his friends. But he had not been himself since the fateful night two weeks ago. His recklessness had cost him. His proud shoulders were hunched, his hands were buried deep in his pockets.

She thought back to the detention years ago when she saw a side of Sirius she did not expect. It was the night she changed her mind about him. Then she remembered sitting in Dumbledore's office and listening to Sirius' confession. She had never been so disappointed.

"Why are you here, Mr. Black?"

He shrugged. "Nowhere to go," he mumbled. Minerva gave him another critical scan. He was pale and his usually well-kept hair was limp. Yes, he had disappointed her. But she was his teacher and Head of House. Which meant she also held the roles of parent, advisor, counselor, and consoler to each of her students. She fought the desire to curl into a ball and sleep for ages. Sometimes, this job took everything she had.

"Have a biscuit," she said briskly. This stunned him into looking at her. His dull blue eyes showed utter confusion.

"Huh?"

"Have a biscuit," she repeated, holding out the tin of ginger newts. Tentatively, he stepped all the way into her office. He took the smallest one. She gestured for him to sit, and he did. Then she waited without speaking. He squirmed in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. It was amusing how quickly silence could pressure adolescents into bursting.

"What I did was… really bad," he finally said, staring at his uneaten ginger newt. Still, Minerva said nothing. "I just… I was so angry and I lost control. I shouldn't have let him get to me. But what he was saying about Reg-" He cut himself off. Minerva was curious, but he moved on. "I betrayed Remus' trust."

That had been a shocking revelation, that he had known of Lupin's condition since second year. And yet not shocking at all. She had seen how sensitive the Gryffindor boys were to Remus' pre-moon illness, how they supported him and tended to him, how they split taking notes in their classes without complaining.

"What if he never speaks to me again?" Sirius asked.

It was time to answer. "He will," she reassured gently. "Remus Lupin will forgive you. He just needs time."

"I almost got him killed," Sirius growled, self-loathing seeping through his words. The ginger newt was crumbling in his grip. "I'm just as bad as the rest of them."

"The rest of who?"

"My bloody inbred family."

"You are nothing like them, Sirius," Minerva said firmly. The frenetic energy that was vibrating through the teenager's body drained, leaving him battered.

"How do you know?" he whispered.

"Because you are sorry. It's painful, certainly, but at least you feel it."

Sirius considered this for a long time. So long that Minerva went back to reading first year essays on match-to-needle transfiguration and correcting their grammar mistakes. After a while, he popped the ginger newt into his mouth. Minerva felt a small leap of triumph in her chest. He needed to eat. He had not been coming to meals lately. He stood and pushed the chair back into its original position.

"I guess I'll come back and start on those cages tomorrow."

"Actually, there's still a few birds that are stuck as half a goblet, if you don't mind fixing that for me before you leave, Mr. Black."

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "Okay." He went to the door into the creature room and paused.

"Why do you always seem to think that I'm capable of better than what I do?"

The question startled Minerva. She looked at her young charge, who was watching her with genuine curiosity. It was sobering.

"Because I believe that you are," she responded.

Sirius raised a dubious eyebrow.

"Some might call me reckless, but I am a Gryffindor, Mr. Black," she said sternly. "I prefer to be called hopeful."

Sirius barked a soft laugh then disappeared through the doorway.

A week later, the Marauders were together again, laughing and playing pranks on the Slytherins. It was strangely a relief after the three week silence. When the Slytherin table lifted off the ground, carrying their food far out of reach, Minerva actually enjoyed storming to the Gryffindor table. She handed out their detentions with the proper amount of scolding. If anyone noticed her wink at Sirius as she turned back to the head table, she would have denied it.

12 July, 1976

Dear Minerva,

I'm writing to let you know about a development of which I feel you should be aware as Sirius Black's Head of House-

Minerva stopped and re-read the name. Then she double-checked the signature. Why was Euphemia Potter writing to her about Sirius?

Sirius has permanently moved in with Fleamont and I. He ran away from home a week ago and turned up on our doorstep. When he arrived he was white and shaking and barely said two words before collapsing in our living room. He refuses to tell us what happened, but I am not sending him back to that house (I think James knows the details, but he will take Sirius' secrets to his grave).

He's recovered and acts like his normal self, but I can't help but worry about him. When he comes back for the next term, keep an eye on him for us. He's basically been our son for years anyway, it's about time we claimed him as our own. You can send his booklist to our residence from now on.

Hope that you are well and enjoying your summer.

Sincerely,

Euphemia Potter

Minerva dwelled on the letter for the rest of the summer. Without students to distract her, all she had was her private research into the atomic and molecular scale changes in transfigured objects. Her thoughts wandered too easily to the content of the letter. It lay on her desk, limp in the heat. To think that once she believed Sirius would conform to his role as heir to the Noble and Moste Anciente House of Black. Should she have noticed something sooner? Should she have been more concerned? Too late now, Minerva. What's done is done.

There were other things to worry about as well. Voldemort's actions against the ministry were escalating. Minister Minchum was rolling out new campaigns and programs against Voldemort and his followers. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had a new head, Bartemius Crouch, whose tended to curse first, ask questions later. Muggle-baiting increased, witches and wizards were disappearing, people were getting hurt.

The mood at the Opening Feast was subdued on September 1st. A fourth year Hufflepuff's muggle parents had been murdered the week before. She was not at the feast and the students under the yellow and black banner were pale-faced. Minerva scanned her Gryffindors as the Sorting Hat began to sing.

Sirius sat in his usual place between James and Remus. He seemed healthier than he usually did at the beginning of the year. He was speaking to Remus with a grave expression, but there was color in cheeks and his shoulders were relaxed. Satisfied that Sirius appeared to have thrived in his new circumstances, Minerva proceeded with the sorting ceremony.

The feast went smoothly and no major catastrophes occurred as students were making their noisy exodus. But as it always was with Hogwarts, trouble would brew eventually. Minerva stumbled upon it on her way to her quarters later in the evening. The stones in the walls had a way of carrying the sound of arguments to a teacher's ears. She could hear the tense hush of voices as soon as she reached the third floor. So instead of going straight, she turned left.

The two boys were standing nose to nose, deep in a hissed discussion. Minerva recognized the idential heads of dark hair and aristocratic profiles. Sirius and Regulus.

"-she burned you off the tapestry, Sirius! Why can't you just-"

"Just what? Bow to them like you do?"

"Siri-"

"No! Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into? Look at Elsie's family! Merlin, Reg, can't you see this is wrong?"

Regulus twitched as if Sirius' statement was an irksome fly. "You left us Sirius," he said, ignoring the question. "Does loyalty count for nothing? Have you no pride?"

"Ha!" Sirius' bark of laughter was harsh. "They can't make me like them. You call prejudice pride? Don't be an idiot Reg."

"At least I'm not a blood-traitor," Regulus whispered angrily. "You deserved what you got-"

Minerva had had enough. She cleared her throat and the brothers jumped apart.

"You should both be in your dormitories," she said sternly. "Five points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin. Regulus, I'll have a word with your head of house tomorrow. You can continue this conversation with your brother later."

"He's not my brother," Regulus said coldly. He spun on his heel and strode away. Sirius watched him go, looking stunned and hurt. But as soon as he noticed Minerva's gaze, he schooled a blank mask over his features.

"Goodnight, Professor," he said without expression. He made to brush past her, but she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Family does not always mean blood, Mr. Black," she murmured.

He nodded stiffly but did not speak, his face white.

"You did a courageous thing this summer," she continued gently. She did not know the full story, but she understood enough.

"I ran away like a coward," he spat.

"You stood up for what you think is right," she corrected.

He shrugged and started down the corridor again.

"You're not alone, Sirius," she called after him. "Your real brothers are waiting for you in the dormitory. You will need to keep them close in days to come."

"Yeah." He kicked at imaginary dust on the stone floor.

"If you ever need to talk…" She let the offer hang in the air. He said nothing, so she sighed and turned in the direction of her quarters.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks. For believing I'm good enough. It made me stronger."

He turned and walked away swiftly before she could respond. Minerva stood like a statue in the torchlight for a long time afterwards.

To my college advisor, who gave me a chance.