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The first time it happens, it actually takes her a moment to notice anything out of ordinary.
Maybe it’s the way that they’re huddled close, practically in each other’s pockets. Or maybe it’s the way that they step in tandem, as if they’ve practiced this countless times before, a synchronised duo weaving their way through the crowd of students in the corridor.
It’s definitely not the bright, practically radiant, smile plastered onto the face of Regulus Black of all people. Because that’s actually the one thing that Minerva does catch, the one thing that causes her to pause and glance back in their direction as she watches over the students heading down for dinner. It’s not often that she’s seen the younger Black son smile, despite him having been here for all of five years.
It’s nice, she can’t help but think. A warmth spreading in her chest as she takes note of the softness around his eyes, the way that his whole face seems to light up as James whispers something for only the two of them to hear. He looks at peace, for once in his life, rather than shrouded in misery and stress.
And yet, that in itself isn’t actually the oddest part of this whole scenario.
Because, as she just pointed out, he’s walking down the corridor with James Potter. Notable mischief maker, loud and cheerful and always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, don’t get her wrong, she loves the young Potter lad dearly (despite what she might have everyone believing); he has ambition, and confidence, and the ability to charm his way out of almost any situation.
He actually reminds her a lot of a young Poppy, in that sense.
Whereas she sees a lot of herself in Regulus, she must admit. Quiet, sullen, engrossed in his studies.
Perhaps that’s why she becomes so intrigued by this unusual and unexpected new friendship blossoming before her. There’s just something to be said about a bubbly extrovert taking an obvious liking in a more solitary being.
°•♡•☆•♡•°
She doesn’t spot them together for another two weeks. Which is strange, she must admit.
It makes her wonder whether there’s a particular reason for that. Are they just simply not that close yet? Or is there another reason that they don’t appear to spend much time together under everyone’s watchful eyes?
From her own past experiences, and also from the way that they’d been leaning into one another the first time that she saw them, she’s more inclined to believe it’s the latter.
This time, when she sees them, they are actually away from the rest of their peers. Which is perhaps the reason that she even notices them in the first place, given the fact that it’s well past lights out and there shouldn’t even be any students outside right now.
It’s the dead of night, the stars littering the sky with a beautiful glow, and it’s relatively quiet. There’s the occasional hoot of an owl, the usual sounds of wildlife from the edges of the forest, and that wonderfully peaceful feeling of nature that she loves so much.
And then there’s a laugh.
Loud and unrestrained. It’s almost melodic in the way that it starts of gentle and then grows into something more powerful, unmistakable happiness dancing in the night air.
Immediately, she heads in the direction that it came from; there shouldn’t be anybody out here and she isn’t against dragging students back inside.
It isn’t until she gets to the outskirts of the Quidditch pitch that she realises who’s actually managed to sneak out. Up in the air, she spies to brooms swooping around after what looks to be an apple, of all things. Which would make sense, since the Quidditch equipment is locked up for the night, stopping the students from accessing it until the following morning.
What takes her by surprise, though, is how the apple is currently flitting across the pitch in a fashion almost identical to a snitch.
That’s not an easy thing to achieve. It’s not even like the apple has been transfigured into a snitch. It’s been charmed, in some way. It would take incredible skill to cast a spell like that.
Which makes her significantly less surprised to realise that one of the figures up there is the notoriously intelligent Regulus Black. If any of the students could cast such a spell, it would be him.
She is, however, still taken aback by the fact that Regulus is currently breaking the rules. Although, don’t get her wrong, she’s under no illusion that the boy is a constant rule follower. He is his brother’s blood, after all. And, if Sirius’ attitude is anything to go by, rules are simply something made to be broken.
The thing with Regulus is he’s smart enough to not get caught.
Tonight is clearly an exception.
But, when her eyes catch on a familiar head of messy black hair and glasses flying dangerously close to the young boy, she begins to understand the situation a little better.
“James, you absolute twat!” Regulus shouts, after having to grip onto his broom a little tighter to stop himself from toppling over due to the close proximity. James only laughs in response, turning around to pull a face at the younger boy as he continues his pursuit of the flying apple.
“Don’t be a sore loser, Reggie!” James calls back, as Regulus wastes absolutely no time in chasing after him. “Just admit defeat already.”
“Not on your life,” Regulus huffs, swerving with near to no concern of his own safety as he ducks underneath James’ broom and comes out in front of him. James makes a loud sound of indignation, but doesn’t give up the fight so easily.
Minerva finds herself watching them for a while longer, transfixed in their reckless yet skilful display of flying. She isn’t one to have favourites, because that would be unprofessional, but she can’t deny that she does enjoy when there’s a Slytherin-Gryffindor match; these two make for some of the best Seekers Hogwarts has ever had the pleasure to house. Their games certainly never lack entertainment.
And watching them battle it out alone, without the distractions of the rest of their teams (or even the audience, for that matter), is a whole other experience.
It’s also, possibly, the most relaxed she’s ever seen Regulus – aside from the times she catches him studying in the library, or occasionally hanging around his usual group of friends.
It brings a smile to her face.
“You cheated.” James sounds like he’s pouting, as he pulls his broom to a hover beside Regulus’, the apple now securely in the younger boy’s grasp. “Typical Slytherin.”
“I did not cheat!” Regulus retorts, “You’re just a big baby.”
James lets out an overly exaggerative gasp, hand clutching at his chest for that added Potter effect. “How dare you! I’ll tell my mother you said that.”
“Oh, please,” Regulus scoffs, pocketing the apple. It doesn’t try to escape. Minerva is, yet again, impressed. She didn’t hear him take the charm off. “Your mother loves me.”
It’s quiet for a moment. James seems to lean closer to Regulus. When he speaks again, it’s barely audible over the wind. “She does.” There’s a softness to his voice now, a raw innocence that makes Minerva feel as though she’s witnessing something that she most definitely shouldn’t be.
Before she can hear what Regulus responds with, she decides to turn her back and slowly walk her way back inside. She really should be telling them off, taking away house points and probably even sentencing detentions. But they weren’t really causing any trouble (a rare occasion when it comes to James Potter being out of dorms during the night). And, besides, it looks as if they’re finished now anyway.
She’ll let them off. Just this once.
Maybe she’s getting sentimental in her old age.
°•☆•♡•☆•°
Contrary to Albus’ belief, Minerva doesn’t spend all of her time at Hogwarts listening in on the latest student gossip. (If she happens to find out a lot more than he ever does, well, that’s just coincidence of course.)
It’s for that reason that, come the following September, she’s just as much in the dark as Albus himself is as they both stare over at the Slytherin table.
Classes returned a few days ago and the returning students are just beginning to settle back into their routines; the first years still stumbling around like little lost deer, looking at everything with wide, innocent eyes. Business as usual, she likes to say.
Except that there’s one thing that’s more than a little out of the ordinary.
Because, situated about halfway down the Slytherin table there is a flash of red.
Albus leans over her shoulder. “Is that-” She already knows what he’s about to ask.
“James Potter. Yes.”
“Sitting at the Slytherin table.” it isn’t phrased as a question. More like exasperated acceptance. It’s a tone she’s come quite accustomed to when it concerns the young Potter boy.
“Indeed.” she agrees, taking a careful sip of her tea. She may be a professor but that doesn’t mean she has to enjoy early mornings. Not without at least three cups of tea before classes start up.
Albus hums, settling back into his seat. He butters a slice of toast. Minerva watches as, across the hall, James Potter appears to be engaged in a rather heated debate, of whatever it is young wizards talk about nowadays, with a small group of sixth year students. If she squints, she thinks she recognises them as Regulus’ usual crowd of friends: Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch Jr., and Pandora Lovegood.
They’re a relatively good group. As far as a group of teenagers goes, that is.
She can’t decide whether adding James Potter into that mix is a good idea or not.
But, judging from the way that Barty seems to say something in rebuttal and James throws his head back in boisterous laughter, Regulus looking up at him with unhidden admiration, she’s more inclined to believe that it might be good. For both of them, hopefully.
She continues watching as James reaches over, swiping a slice of half-eaten toast from Regulus’ plate and taking a grossly large bite out of it. She’s almost certain he’s managed to smear strawberry jam across his face.
Regulus, true to his nature, swats James over the head and then proceeds to lean closer to the older boy in order to readjust his tie. James lets him, as if this is a practiced thing between them – perhaps it is. And, when Regulus then steals his breakfast back from the boy, James moves to plant a kiss to the poor Slytherin’s cheek.
“How long has that been going on?” Albus suddenly pipes up again, speaking around a mouthful of toast because, whilst he may be the Headmaster, he has no shame.
Minerva scoffs at him, something that goes either unnoticed or ignored by her friend. “How should I know, Albus?”
He shrugs. “You have your ways.” She hums. He’s not completely wrong.
That doesn’t mean she knows the ins and outs of all of their students’ relationships. She does have lessons to plan, after all. She can’t spend all of her time perusing the castle’s corridors. She tells him as much.
“Well,” he swallows, dabs at his mouth with a napkin, “let’s hope Sirius doesn’t find reason to cause a scene over this.”
It’s rather difficult for her to hold back her laughter at that. Somehow, she succeeds.
With a quick glance over towards the Gryffindor table, where Sirius Black is unsurprisingly very much distracted by his boyfriend, Remus Lupin, (a relationship that she, and the rest of the people in this hall, had no choice in staying oblivious to), she smiles. “I think he’s got other priorities, thank Merlin.”
Albus chuckles under his breath.
He raises his glass of orange juice between them. “To young love.” he declares.
Despite herself, she finds her smile growing. She lifts her cup to meet him in the middle.
°•♡•☆•♡•°
It’s funny how time passes by.
Some days it may seem to fly by, other days it can drag.
As a professor, Minerva often finds that she’s almost in some sort of neve-ending loop. Sure, the classes she teaches aren’t exact replicas of one another, and the students that come and go each year are unique in their own individual ways. But, after years of working at Hogwarts, she does find it hard to keep track of the years as they pass.
Which is why, when Albus introduces her to their new Potions professor she may have done a double-take. Or two.
“Good morning, Professor McGonagall.” a voice says, foreign to her ears and yet…strangely familiar. A pale hand reaches out and she takes it on instinct, her eyes travelling up to meet striking grey eyes. Thin lips curl up into a polite, yet clearly nervous, smile. Black curls frame a now chiselled face, the face of a grown man.
There’s no faster way to make one feel old than for an ex-student to suddenly become a colleague.
Although, as horrifying as the thought that she’s getting on in her years, Minerva can’t help but be overcome with a warm surge of pride. After all, becoming a professor at Hogwarts is hardly an easy feat.
She returns his smile. “Please, it’s Minerva now, Regulus.”
He chuckles, eyes crinkling slightly at the sides as he ducks his head. A loose curl falls out of place. “As you wish, Minerva.” and there’s a playful tone in the way he says her name that tells her their time working together will be far from boring.
Regulus has been working as a professor for almost a year now and, whilst they might not be considered close friends, Minerva has come to rely on him for a good conversation during dinner or the occasional break from essay reading to gossip about their fellow colleagues and students.
Which means she’s spent enough time around the young man to be able to recognise his face pretty easily.
So, when that morning’s copy of The Daily Prophet lands in front of her as she stirs a spoonful of sugar into her tea, it takes her less than a minute to pinpoint his distinctive features amongst the crowd on the front page.
It’s a picture taken after the previous weekend’s Quidditch game, Puddlemere United celebrating their first win of the new season. The title reads ‘Puddlemere United’s New Seeker Secures Win With Jaw-Dropping Manoeuvre’ and, standing right in the middle of the group, is none other than James Potter.
She’d heard of his new placement. How could she not, when it had become the talk of the school. Nothing creates a better morale boost than a former student making it in a big Quidditch team, and James’ legacy at Hogwarts only created more of a buzz. So seeing him there, and hearing that he’s already thriving, doesn’t come as much of a shock.
Seeing his arm slung around a certain Potions professor, though? Now that’s intriguing.
The rest of the team are dancing and cheering around their new seeker, sharing fist bumps and hugs as they each relish in the glory of their win. James accepts a few himself but, mostly, his attention is on the man beside him. He ruffles a hand through Regulus’ hair, earning him a signature Black eye roll. But even that doesn’t stop Regulus from beaming up at James with undeniable pride. They share a long look, and then the scene loops on itself.
It’s sweet. Minerva watches it play through again a couple more times before she shifts her gaze down to the end of the professors’ table, where Regulus is enjoying a cup of tea. He has a copy of his own, splayed out in front of him, and there’s a small, secretive little smile creeping its way across his face.
When she turns back to her breakfast, her paper has moved. Albus sits next to her, quickly scanning the front cover same as she did.
After a moment, he looks up and they share a knowing look.
°•☆•♡•☆•°
A deep laugh echoes down the corridor.
Minerva hears it immediately, already on high alert as she begins her trek back from the Slytherin Common Room after accompanying two third years down from the Astronomy Tower. She sighs, swivelling on her heels and following the direction that it came from; the Potions classroom of all rooms.
Regulus certainly won’t be happy if he wakes tomorrow to find that students have been causing havoc in his classroom, that’s for certain.
It’s happened once before, a few years back now, when he accidentally forgot to lock the room overnight and Minerva has no idea what he said or did to the guilty students but she remembers the look of pure terror on their faces when they slunk into the Great Hall the next morning. Regulus had followed them in shortly after, looking as cool, calm and collected as ever but there was a slight glint in his eyes and Minerva definitely gained a little extra respect for the young professor.
She’s distracted slightly recollecting the memory as she nears the Potions classroom, before realising she can actually make out voices drifting down the corridor now.
“Don’t you dare touch that! Or, I swear to Merlin, I will hex you into next year.” It’s unmistakably Regulus Black’s voice, sharp and authoritative. Minerva slows her purposeful stride. Perhaps Regulus has beaten her to the scene of the crime.
She lingers, though, a few steps away from the room; in case he needs the support of a more senior professor.
And, also, she’s slightly curious to learn what he’d said to the last unlucky souls to be caught messing with his potions.
Except the responding voice doesn’t sound like a student at all. It’s deep, and cheerful, and vaguely familiar. “You wouldn’t dare.” the other person, clearly a man, teases. “And miss one of the most important days of our lives?”
“Perhaps I should,” Regulus sasses back, and Minerva can hear the way he rolls his eyes, “Merlin knows you only bring more stress into my life. I should’ve taken Barty up on his offer when we were kids.”
There’s a scoff, and a scrape of a chair. “Please,” the other man says, “we all know he wasn’t exciting enough for you. Besides, Remus has told me all about your binder full of wedding plans. You’ve put far too much effort into this to call it off now.”
“Damn Remus.” Regulus curses under his breath and Minerva lets her curiosity get the better of her because wedding plans? She casts a wordless spell and is suddenly much closer to the tiled floor, her four paws barely audible as she creeps closer to the doorway of the occupied classroom.
The biggest advantage of her animagus form is that nobody blinks an eye at a black cat wondering the halls of Hogwarts. Giving her the best opportunity to listen in on interesting conversations such as this one.
Inside the classroom, Regulus is leaning against his desk, casual and effortlessly model-like (something she suspects is a genetic trait, having known both him and his brother). Across from him, perched up on one of the front row desks, is an all-too-familiar head of black hair.
James Potter.
Of course. She should have known.
She’s not even going to ask how he’s managed to get in here. If there’s one thing she knows about James Potter, it’s that he will always find a way to get what he wants. She would like to know why the now world famous Quidditch player is currently sat in Professor Black’s classroom, but she feels like she already knows the answer.
James chuckles, running a hand through his already messy hair. Regulus watches the action with sharp eyes. He continues to watch, not moving from his spot, as James slides off of the desk and begins a slow walk up to him, closing the distance between the two of them until he’s able to rest both his arms on either side of Regulus. Successfully bracketing him in.
Regulus blinks slowly, looks up that extra inch to meet James’ eyes.
“Not long now,” James says, voice barely more than a whisper. The corners of Regulus’ mouth twitch up into something resembling a shy smile. He hums, quiet and content, and leans into James ever-so-slightly. “It feels like I’ve been waiting an eternity for this.” James continues, reaching out to carefully tuck a loose curl behind Regulus’ ear.
“Yeah,” Regulus breathes out, rather uncharacteristically unintelligent of him. James smiles down at him, a fondness to his features that is almost too much to look at.
“It was written in the stars, after all.” James grins, gripping at Regulus’ tie. “My little lionheart.”
Regulus huffs, but he’s smiling so brightly. He places a hand over James’, leans up and mutters a quick, “Shut up, you idiot.” before closing the small gap that remained between them, their lips brushing together in a kiss that can only be described with one word: tenderness.
Minerva decides that she’s seen enough, even if she hasn’t really gotten many answers to the numerous questions currently running through her mind. She slowly backs away, leaving the two of them alone (even though, really, she should probably be kicking James out), and waits until she’s rounded the corner at the end of the corridor before shifting out of her animagus form.
She quickly checks the time. It’s not quite midnight yet.
With that knowledge, and a warm feeling in her chest, she changes her path back to her room and decides to pay a visit to the hospital wing.
°•♡•☆•♡•°
She knew it was a terrible idea to visit Diagon Alley this close to the start of the school year. Yet, here she was. Somehow, Poppy had convinced her that it wouldn’t be as bad as she was expecting it to be – which, in a way she was right; it’s worse than she expected.
Parents and young children alike whizz by, brushing far too close for Minerva’s liking as they try to get their last minute supply shopping done. The noise is constant, a never-ending spew of broken off conversations as the two of them push their way through the bustling crowd. They’ve barely been here long but she’s already regretting coming.
Unfortunately, she had a…mishap with her work robes involving her wife’s new experimental ointment for healing scars that ended in smoke and a robe that was most definitely not wearable.
So, Madam Malkin’s it was.
Thankfully, the shop was one of the quieter ones by the looks of it. There seems to only be two or three families browsing the different robes on offer. Minerva breathes a sigh of relief and she feels Poppy squeeze her hand reassuringly before letting go to marvel over the new range of dress robes.
Minerva decides she may as well have a browse herself since she’ll have to wait her turn to be served. With a quick glance back out to the street filled with determined shoppers, she finds that she doesn’t mind too much. The longer the better, frankly.
In the background, she can faintly hear a young boy being fitted for a fresh pair of robes. No doubt he’ll be one of the many new first years starting next month.
“Now, I know these are a tad long but a growing boy like you will find much more use out of them rather than a smaller size.” Malkin is rambling away. Minerva can just about make out their reflections in the shop window, Malkin flitting around the poor boy as she pins the robes up to fit him a little better.
“Unlike the pair your Uncle bought you.” a man standing to the side says, snickering.
The young boy laughs gleefully, waving his arms (sleeves hanging over his hands) around. “They were so long! Remember the bruise I got falling down the stairs?” He and the man both laugh, clearly sharing joy in the memory.
Besides the man, another man tuts, unimpressed. “You’re both hopeless.” he mutters, digging his elbow slightly into the other man’s side. “Our son could’ve been seriously hurt and you find it funny!”
The other man waves his arms around, a trait he’s clearly passed down to his son. “He laughed first!” The boy giggles and his father sends him a playful glare. “Stop it, you! You’re getting me into trouble.”
His son sticks his tongue out at him, saying, “You’re always in trouble with Papa, dad.” To which his dad responds by sticking out his own tongue.
The other, quieter and more reserved, man sighs. It’s a long, exasperated, and yet fond sigh. “Hopeless.” he repeats.
Malkin chooses now to finish her adjustments, standing up to face the boy’s parents. “So,” she starts, as she tucks her tape measurer behind her ear, “will we be getting these? They are a little more expensive than the regular ones but-”
“No worries,” the overly energetic man says, holding a hand up to stop her politely, “that won’t be an issue. We’ll take three, no doubt he’ll end up wrecking a pair by the end of his first week.”
“Hey!” the boy protests, but he goes unheard.
“Of course, of course,” Malkin chuckles, leading them over towards the counter so she can ring them up. “They’ll need adjusting to match this one, so they should be ready to collect in a few days’ time. Can I take a name for the order?”
The man leans casually against the counter as he says, “Potter-Black.” and it’s only in that moment that Minerva realises that she knows them.
Of course she does!
She has no idea how it hadn’t clicked earlier, she’ll blame it on the fact that her ears are still ringing from the amount of shouting parents outside. But, even then, she does work with one of the men and the other is a well-known name in the Wizarding World so she doesn’t think that’s a good enough excuse.
She watches with a touch more interest now as Regulus Black helps the young boy – his son, she hadn’t even realised he had a son – out of his new robe. The young boy looks up at him with unbridled excitement, and a fondness to his features that’s so eerily similar to a younger James Potter that she almost forgets that this isn’t James.
“Will they come with the Slytherin emblem on them?” he asks Malkin as he hops over towards the counter. Regulus follows after, laughing at the question as James balks.
“Oh, no, deary.” Malkin says, “You have to wait until you’re sorted into a house to get personalised robes.”
The young boy pouts. “But I already know what house I’m going to be in.”
“How can you possibly know that, Harry?” James snorts, ruffling the boy’s hair. It’s jet black and as equally messy as his own.
“Well I want to be in Slytherin.” the boy, Harry, says stubbornly, crossing his arms.
James flies a hand to his chest, forever melodramatic. “Why would you not want to be in Gryffindor, like your father!?”
“Well Papa was in Slytherin!” Harry argues back, “And he did better than you.”
“I’m a famous Quidditch player!” James gasps, clearly trying to hold back his laughter.
Harry rolls his eyes, sharing a meaningful look with Regulus. “Please, dad. You fly a broom for a living. Papa gets to blow things up!”
Regulus snorts, squeezing his son’s shoulder. “I’m glad someone appreciates my work. See, James? I am cool.”
James finally breaks, a wide grin splitting across his face. He pulls on the lapels of Regulus’ jacket, bringing him in for a chaste kiss. “You’ve always been cool, babe.”
Between them, Harry gags. “Gross. Keep it for when I’m in bed.”
James swats his head lightly.
“So,” James begins as Malkin takes a payment from Regulus. “Is that the only reason you want to be in Slytherin?”
At this, Harry’s face flushes a light pink.
“Well,” he fiddles with a loose thread on his jeans, “Draco said he’s gonna be in Slytherin too so-”
“Ah!” James cries out, “I knew it!”
Behind them, Regulus thanks Malkin and then turns to begin ushering his two boys out of the shop. “James, stop teasing him would you? It’s not like you were any better when you were his age.”
James puffs his chest out, smirking at Regulus. “I was the embodiment of charm and confidence. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Regulus fixes him with a look. “You once fell into the Great Lake trying to catch up with me.”
James’ smirk only grows wider. He reaches out and runs his finger over the silver band that’s been residing on Regulus’ left hand for well over a decade now. “It still worked though, didn’t it?”
Regulus huffs. “Shut up and get moving. We still have five other shops to go to.” There’s a soft smile on his face, though, and he leans into James’ side as they exit the shop.
Minerva smiles to herself. They seem like good family. She’s happy for Regulus; it’s what he deserves.
“Was that Regulus?” Poppy asks, suddenly appearing behind her and almost frightening her to death. Once her heart rate has slowed back down, she nods. “Huh. I didn’t know he had a kid.”
“Neither did I.” Minerva admits. She supposes Regulus has always been fairly private about his personal life, even if he’s always open to chatting with all of his colleagues. It’s surprising, really, considering his husband is constantly in the spotlight.
Poppy hums thoughtfully. “Good for him.” she eventually says, and Minerva couldn’t agree more. And then, before she can think too long on it, she’s being dragged across the shop to take a look a rather stunning robe that Poppy had fallen in love with.
A few weeks later, when the young Harry Potter-Black gets sorted into Slytherin, Minerva doesn’t miss the proud smile that settles onto Regulus’ face. Nor does she miss the mischievous look that flashes over a certain Draco Malfoy’s face as the boy comes to sit beside him, and she sighs internally as she realises that this can only end in chaos and mayhem.