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“Mr. Black.” Professor McGonagall eyed the boy sitting across the desk from her carefully. Sirius winced. It was taking everything in him not to squirm in his seat; he’d outgrown her two summers ago, but somehow, her gaze still made him feel tiny.
“Minerva,” He bit back, voice cold and empty.
Her office was colder than it had been last May, Sirius noted. Even wrapped in one of Remus’s thickest jumpers- he always remembered to lend Sirius the warmest ones in the weeks after school breaks, after five years well used to the way his skin grew permanently cold over the summer in his family’s home- he couldn’t help but shiver.
A distant part of his mind wondered if McGonagall had taken to keeping the windows open, or if it was just the seasons changing, summer merging slowly into autumn.
Or maybe it was just him.
He was always cold when he came back from break. The two months in Grimmauld Place always did that to him, either from the blood loss, or from the weight he’d lost, or from the affection he hadn’t received. It had been years, he was used to that by now. But this time, no matter how much he ate, or how well he patched himself up, or how many nights he spent lying next to Remus in bed, long, gangly arms intertwined, the cold wouldn’t go away.
McGonagall sighed, rubbing her temples.
“Mr. Black, I don’t wish to have to tell you again not to call me that. It’s inappropriate, and I won’t have it.”
“Fine,” Sirius tipped his chair back, holding steady eye contact with her. “Quit calling me Mr. Black, and it’s a deal.” He was being disrespectful. He knew it, felt the guilt as the sneering words left his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
She stared at him, unblinking. The office fell silent, so silent he could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall behind her desk. As each second passed, he began to wonder if he really had crossed her.
“Very well,” She said finally, taking a sip of tea. “Sirius, do you know why you’re here?”
“I’m afraid not, Professor, but if James and his whispered conversation with you after transfiguration yesterday had anything to do with it, then I guess I have a suspicion,” He sniffed, rolling and rerolling the sleeves on Remus’s jumper up, refusing to meet her eyes, despite being able to feel hers boring into his head.
“Sirius, your friends are worried about you. And I have to say-”
“Slimy git,” Sirius grumbled. “I knew he would tell you. I knew he would. Always sticking his nose-”
“He’s concerned, Sirius. And I must say, I understand where he’s coming from. You’ve been quiet since the term started, you’ve barely been eating. You were limping when you came into my class yesterday-”
“Sprained my ankle on the staircase,” he supplied uselessly.
“-and he said you’ve started having nightmares again.”
Fuck. Sirius didn’t know James knew about that.
The nightmares he used to be tormented with had stopped years ago, just a few months into his first year, once the memories of Grimmauld Place lost their vividness to the warmth of his life at Hogwarts. The dreams (they always began the same, with her face glaring down at him, always ended the same, her lips moving to form that spell, and blood, and red hot pain, the old scars on his legs and back burning, screaming out without realizing, and being shaken awake roughly by James or Remus or Peter, or on the worst nights, McGonagall herself) slowly faded away, became something of the past, something that they didn’t talk about.
He had known that they’d come back, but for James to know?
That was too much to bear.
The dreams weren’t even that bad, he told himself. They lacked the sharp bite of realism that had cut him to the bone back when he was eleven. He woke up sweating and crying, but didn’t remember why anymore. The cuts and scars on his body ached, but it could have just been that they still hadn’t healed, the term had just begun after all. His heart raced in his sleep, and his mind turned itself in useless circles in the way that only one person could make it, but in his dreams, the figure was blurry, and when he woke up, he didn’t remember what had been happening.
He just remembered he’d been scared.
“What did he say I’d been-” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t know how to.
“Mr. Potter didn’t disclose much,” McGonagall met his eyes, connecting with a gentle warmth. “It seemed he wasn’t too anxious to share much about the… details of your issues with me. But he claimed that you had been screaming in your sleep frequently.” She pushed up her glasses, which had fallen to the end of her long nose, and continued. “He said you had been talking a bit as well, and that you sounded scared, but-” She smiled gently. “Well, seeing as he said you were speaking in French, Mr. Potter was unable to understand you.” A terrible thought struck him, sneaking up from behind.
“Have I been keeping them up? The others? Are they-”
“Sirius, I hardly think that’s the most of your worries right now.”
“But professor-” She wouldn’t answer his question. She wouldn’t answer it, she was avoiding it, she knew how he’d react; she wouldn’t answer him.
He couldn’t stop remembering first year, the dark circles around his friends’ eyes after long nights, the naps Peter would sneak in Charms, the guilt he felt waking up the dorm when Remus had just been ill, James’s tears on his bedsheets after he had to wake him up again, the shame of them all knowing how bad it was for him at home, of not being able to hide it-
“I need to know, Sirius. Did your mother do something to you this summer?”. He crossed his arms, mind racing as the truth dawned on him.
There was no getting out of this.
Sirius snorted. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, Professor. Just the same shit that happens every summer.” It was true, for the most part at least. Nothing new had happened over the summer. It was the same old curses and jinxes and days locked in his room. The only difference was how often it happened. “If you’d like all the gory details to pass on to Dumbledore, be my guest, but I really don’t think he’ll give a fuck,” He spat, anger getting the better of him. He watched as her lips tightened, preparing for her to scold him for his language, but the lecture never came. She sighed, and took off her glasses, releasing the tension in her shoulders.
“I know Professor Dumbledore hasn’t been able to do much for your situation, but-” Sirius tilted his head back, a genuine laugh escaping his throat. McGonagall stared at him in shock.
“Been able to? Professor, with all due respect, he’s the strongest wizard in the world. He can do whatever he wants, but he just doesn’t care. He could have gotten me out of there from the moment my mother sent that first Howler, the day after I was sorted. He could have gotten me out of there when I came back from Winter Holidays second year, and I hadn’t eaten since leaving school. But he really doesn’t care what happens to us, Professor. And I’m still-” His voice broke. He forced himself to look down as tears welled up in his eyes.
“I’m still stuck in there, and my father still can barely look at me, and my mother still hates me, and I still leave every summer all beat up, and I come back here, and everyone just acts like nothing happened! And then I go back home next holiday, and I do it all over again! It just keeps happening again and again, Professor, and I’m so tired of it!”
She looked at him, shock melting into concern as his shoulders shook.
Sirius Black had been in her office upwards of one hundred and fifty times since he’d arrived at Hogwarts five years ago.
Sirius Black had sat in that same chair dozens of times.
Sirius Black had laughed, and argued, and yelled, and had sometimes gotten a dazed look in his eyes when she spoke too loudly in that chair.
Sirius Black had never once in all five years cried in that chair.
His eyes were still fixed on his lap, face still hidden from her view, but despite his best efforts, there was no hiding the thickness in his voice or the tears that she could see rolling off his nose and into his lap. Minerva McGonagall was in uncharted territory.
So, she lowered her voice the way she had on that morning, five years ago, when one of her newest students had come to her office in tears after breakfast, begging to let him switch houses.
“Mr. Black? What do you need?”
Now, looking down at his lowered head, she spoke gently.
“That Howler your first year. Do you remember what happened that morning?”
Sirius barely shook his head, still refusing to look up, but she took the acknowledgement that she’d heard him as motivation to go on.
“If I recall, James was the first one at your side when it went up in flames.” She gazed at him, imploring him to look back at her. “That boy cares about you, Sirius. He would do anything to help you.”
Her words provided little consolation; if anything, his shoulders only shook harder at this. McGonagall sighed, taking her glasses off, putting them back on, and reaching an arm out across the desk, extending it towards him like a lifeline. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, a thousand times more gentle than it had been before.
“Oh, dear boy, what has she done to you?”
Sirius lifted his face, finally meeting her eyes. His face burned red realizing how he must look, tears streaming down his cheeks, chin quivering as he tried to speak.
“It really wasn’t that bad, Professor. I swear.”
“No matter how bad you feel it was, I would much rather have you talk to me about it than bottle it all up.” Sirius wiped his eyes.
“If I tell you, you’ll think I’m-” He stopped, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Disgusting? Impure? Broken?
Toujours pur, Sirius, something whispered in his mind. He shook his head to rid himself of his mother’s voice.
“Sirius, I assure you, there is nothing you could tell me that would change the way I see you.”
“You’re just saying that.” He whispered. “You don’t know what I am.” McGonagall sighed.
“I cannot make you tell me anything. I wouldn’t dare to try, Sirius, you know I wouldn’t. But no matter what you choose to tell me, or not tell me, I promise, I will help you to the very best of my abilities.” Sirius snorted again, thinking of Dumbledore, of what his idea of helping had been, his eyes still planted on the floor.
What have you got to lose? Something in his head murmured. This time, it wasn’t his mother who spoke. It sounded more like James.
James begging him to open up, James asking him over and over again to tell him how he really felt.
James going behind his back because he was so worried about him.
“Do you swear it, Professor?” He said, finally.
“I swear, Sirius.”
“Fine,” He said shortly. He wiped the last tears that lingered on his cheeks away, and forced himself to look at her. Not at her eyes- he couldn’t manage that, not yet- but on the bridge of her nose, the space between her eyes, an old trick his father had taught him to make it seem like he was holding eye contact, back when he wasn’t too ashamed to spare a glance in his direction. He stood up carefully, and gingerly rolled up the legs of his trousers, trying not to listen to McGonagall bite back a gasp as she took in the sight.
The backs of his legs were covered with long, deep cuts, crossing each other and scraping across different directions. Still red and raw, the cuts covered so much surface area that it was difficult to find a square inch of untouched skin.
“My mother- I’ve told you that she’s a Legilimens before, haven’t I, Professor?” Sirius pressed on, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary. Her eyes widened with shock, but she didn’t react otherwise.
“I- er- I don’t believe so, Sirius, but that’s alright, continue on.”
“She- she makes a habit of going into my mind from time to time. Just to check it out. Make sure I’m- er- staying out of trouble, you know?” He smiled awkwardly. “You can imagine how that goes, usually.”
“So she found out you’d been getting into trouble?” Sirius turned red.
“Er- no. Not exactly. That’s usually what happens, but this time, it was right after the full moon, and I was worried about Remus, and she went in, and all she saw was- was Moony and I,” He finished, if the words took him a lot of effort to say. McGonagall clenched her fists, knuckles going pale.
“Sirius,” She said finally, deathly quiet. “I need you to answer me honestly. Did your mother see anything in your mind that could- could tip her off about Mr. Lupin’s- er- condition?” He didn’t even need to think.
“No, Professor. She didn’t, I swear. I would have written Dumbledore immediately if she had, you know I would.”
“Of course,” She righted herself, letting out a breath. “But you see why I had to make sure, don’t you?”
“I understand, Professor. It would have been- if she found out, I-” He suppressed the urge to wince at the thought. “It would have been bad.”
“But if not that, what did she see?” McGonagall asked. “If not his lycanthrophy, what about our Mr. Lupin did she find so- hateable?” Sirius gulped.
Now or never, James’s voice whispered.
“She- she found out. About us. About- Moony and me. That’s why she hurt me.” He admitted, lowering his gaze. She blinked.
“Of course I’ve known your family upholds traditional blood purist values, but I see no reason for anyone to be so- intolerant over your friendship. You’re just boys, it shouldn’t matter if he’s a half blood, or if you’re a pureblood-” Sirius shook his head. She wasn’t understanding. He needed her to understand.
Merlin, how could he make her understand without just coming out and saying it?
“You don’t understand, Professor,” He tried again, growing desperate. “Remus and I- we aren’t friends. We’re- He- Remus is my-” He stopped, the words caught in his throat as he saw understanding begin to dawn on her face.
Merlin, what was he doing?
He couldn’t tell McGonagall, he couldn’t tell anyone, he had to stop, to take the words back, to-
She wasn’t speaking.
Merlin, why wasn’t she speaking?
Sirius looked down at his lap. He couldn’t look at her any longer. He couldn’t bear to see the disappointment that was surely spreading over her face. He wouldn’t let himself breathe. Couldn’t give himself that luxury.
Seconds passed.
The silence was stifling.
Please, say something.
Sirius wrapped his arms around himself.
“ I’m sorry, Professor, I’ll be leav- ”
“Wait, Sirius,” McGonagall spoke finally, her stern voice cutting through the silence.
“No, really, I ought to get going, it’ll be supper soon, I don’t want to miss that-”
“Sirius.” Her voice was stern now. “Listen to me.” He furrowed his brow, refusing to speak.
“When I was around your age,” McGonagall continued, “Maybe a year or two older, sixth or seventh year, I met a Ravenclaw here at Hogwarts. In my year, yet we’d never spoken- imagine that!” She chuckled warmly, and Sirius couldn’t help but feel annoyed with her. Why couldn’t she just get angry? He was disgusting. He was impure.
“This Ravenclaw- Sirius, look at me- this Ravenclaw ended up making me the happiest I had ever been. There are no words for the sort of bond we had. It was love beyond anything most could ever comprehend.”
Sirius glanced up at her, finally meeting her eyes, and flinched with shock when he realized that they had filled with tears. He shook his head.
“He sounds like a great guy, Professor, but I don’t see why-” McGonagall shook her head.
“ She, Sirius. She and I were- inseparable.”
Oh.
Oh.
Sirius felt his stomach lurch as she continued “Times were- they were different back then. They aren’t great for people like us today, certainly not, but when we were kids, there was no approval of our relationship to be found anywhere. We had to hide it, my father was a minister; he was very religious; he wouldn’t have approved, we could never- why- he still doesn’t know.” She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Sirius, I-” For a moment she hesitated. “This may hurt you to hear, but it may be that your family might never understand or accept what you have-” Sirius laughed, more to himself than to anyone else.
“I doubt they will, Professor, I mean, you’ve seen my legs, haven’t you?” McGonagall winced.
“That’s not funny, Sirius. If you are happy with Mr. Lupin, that’s the only thing that matters. And you-” She looked him in the eyes, and he couldn’t help but feel exposed, as if she knew everything that went on in his mind, everything that had ever occurred to him. “-Have nothing to be ashamed of. If nothing else, Sirius, I need you to know that, because too many people don’t. Too many people have to learn that themselves.”
If she saw tears welling up in his eyes, she didn’t say anything.
“Professor?” Sirius whispered, his voice cracking. “This girl- where is she now?” McGonagall blinked.
“The girl? She- why, she’s down in the hospital wing, Sirius. Where she has spent every day for the past 15 years. Probably tending to your friend Mr. Lupin, but I heard last night’s moon wasn’t too bad at all.” She smiled gently. Sirius stared at her, mouth agape.
“Madam Pomfrey, Professor? You- and- and her, you’re-?”
“Together. Yes, Sirius. Twenty years next May.”
Sirius’s face broke into a grin.
“That’s- that’s bloody brilliant, Professor; I had no- none of us had any idea! Merlin! And Moony and I, we thought we must be the only ones in the world, but the whole time, you- you were-” He stood up suddenly, excitement oozing out of him, and then sat back down hurriedly, wincing as the ever-present pain hit him. McGonagall watched him with a touch of something that he couldn’t quite place in her eyes.
“Does it hurt terribly?” She asked him, finally.
“It’s not so bad,” he murmured. “It’s just when I put too much weight on my legs that it-” She shook her head.
“If you don’t mind me suggesting, why don’t we get you down to the hospital wing now? . There’s still time before supper, and you’re in no condition… I’m sure Madam Pomfrey would be glad to help-” Sirius froze. He’d already told the whole story to one person today, he didn’t know if he could possibly handle another round.
“I don’t know, Professor.” McGonagall eyed him, smiling gently.
“If I recall, Mr. Lupin is in the hospital wing as well. In fact, I’d be willing to bet he’s just about recovered.” Sirius lit up at that.
“Alright, alright,” He managed a small smile. “But don’t tell him how I got all- all beat up. I’ll tell him later, but not yet.” McGonagall straightened.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sirius. What you’ve told me will stay between the two of us.” She creaked open her office door. “Can you walk?” Sirius rose to his feet. The pain shot up his legs, but he bobbed his head.
“I’ll manage. It’s not far.” Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, but she nodded, and led him off down the stairs.
“Very well.” She paused. “I do worry for your safety, Sirius. I hope you know that if you ever need anything, you have people who will support you.” Sirius grinned his old mischievous grin.
“Oh, of course I know that, Professor.” He quipped. “I mean, why else would you want to take me to the hospital wing?”
McGonagall squinted at him, confusion written across her brows.
“Whatever are you talking about, Sirius?”
“Nothing, Professor,” He beamed, throwing his hands up in mock-innocence. “Thought maybe you were just excited to see your girlfriend .” McGonagall lifted her head up, and smiled gently. Under any other circumstances, he would have just earned himself a detention, but right now, she couldn’t find it in her to be upset.
“Come along now, Sirius.”