"Minerva," Sirius forced himself to use her first name. "Welcome to Grimmauld Place."
She gave a curt nod, and crossed the threshold. "Thank you, Sirius. It is good of you to let the Order use your house as its Headquarters."
The meeting went well. Allies old and new descended on the fusty old townhouse, and what with Molly's cooking and the children's laughter, it began to feel a bit less dank and oppressive than usual.
Afterwards, Sirius cracked out the drinks cabinet. There were some bottles that hadn't seen the light of day for decades; it gave him a perverse pleasure to pour them in generous slugs to people of whom his mother would have thoroughly disapproved. "Who'd like to try the Scotch from 1875?" he yelled. Unsurprisingly, there were quite a few takers.
The evening wore on late, and they had far more of a laugh than you would have expected, at the start of another war. After a while, people began to peel off, though: Albus bid everyone a good evening, claiming work to do; Molly and Arthur went to check on their offspring; Remus collapsed in bed, feeling sore from the last moon; Mundungus had drunk so much he fell down comatose; and Snape never stayed longer than he had to in the first place, thank God.
That just left Sirius and Minerva. Had someone asked him beforehand, Sirius would have said the conversation at that point would be awkward. 'Being left alone with your old Head of House in the parlour of your Dark family home, having just escaped from prison,' didn't sound like social dynamite, after all. But as it turned out - it wasn't a problem; not at all.
When off duty, Minerva's sense of humour was surprisingly irreverent. She made a number of shrewd observations about their colleagues, and even shared some gossip about the school that made Sirius take a sharp breath. The things kids get up to, eh? "I'm sure my lot were better behaved than that."
Minerva snorted. "The Dementors must have softened your memory, then."
Sirius tried to look mock-offended, but actually he just laughed. "Luckily, dogs don't have to worry too much about memories."
"It can be useful; I agree." Minerva nodded in acknowledgement, understanding his meaning straight away. "Just not having to think for a while - or not think like a human, at least."
Suddenly catapulted back to when he had first seen it, Sirius had a vivid picture of Minerva in cat form. "Your animagus transformation - bloody marvellous, it is! It blew me away, when I was a lad. That first lesson - my eyes were out on stalks, and I remember thinking: whatever magic she's got, I want some of that."
Minerva smiled, a little smugly. "And indeed, you did get some. A very fine animagus form of your own, if you don't mind me saying so."
"Thanks." Sirius grinned. Being praised by your favourite teacher never got old, it seemed.
He felt warm, and surprisingly chipper. Sirius' mind was drifting back to good old times, and the combination of company and firewhisky had made him pretty relaxed. "I always had a thing for you, you know... when I was a student."
"Did you, now?" Minerva's eyebrows raised, and then she looked studiedly down into her swirling Scotch.
Sirius cursed himself for ending the conversation - him and his big mouth. She would certainly up and leave now, and probably wouldn't talk to him again for a few months, which would be nice and icy at Order meetings... oh bloody hell...
It took him a moment to register Minerva's next words; slow and measured. She looked up once again and locked Sirius' gaze, the smallest of smirks playing at her lips: "Do tell me all about it."
"Minerva," Sirius forced himself to use her first name. "Welcome to Grimmauld Place."
She gave a curt nod, and crossed the threshold. "Thank you, Sirius. It is good of you to let the Order use your house as its Headquarters."
The meeting went well. Allies old and new descended on the fusty old townhouse, and what with Molly's cooking and the children's laughter, it began to feel a bit less dank and oppressive than usual.
Afterwards, Sirius cracked out the drinks cabinet. There were some bottles that hadn't seen the light of day for decades; it gave him a perverse pleasure to pour them in generous slugs to people of whom his mother would have thoroughly disapproved. "Who'd like to try the Scotch from 1875?" he yelled. Unsurprisingly, there were quite a few takers.
The evening wore on late, and they had far more of a laugh than you would have expected, at the start of another war. After a while, people began to peel off, though: Albus bid everyone a good evening, claiming work to do; Molly and Arthur went to check on their offspring; Remus collapsed in bed, feeling sore from the last moon; Mundungus had drunk so much he fell down comatose; and Snape never stayed longer than he had to in the first place, thank God.
That just left Sirius and Minerva. Had someone asked him beforehand, Sirius would have said the conversation at that point would be awkward. 'Being left alone with your old Head of House in the parlour of your Dark family home, having just escaped from prison,' didn't sound like social dynamite, after all. But as it turned out - it wasn't a problem; not at all.
When off duty, Minerva's sense of humour was surprisingly irreverent. She made a number of shrewd observations about their colleagues, and even shared some gossip about the school that made Sirius take a sharp breath. The things kids get up to, eh? "I'm sure my lot were better behaved than that."
Minerva snorted. "The Dementors must have softened your memory, then."
Sirius tried to look mock-offended, but actually he just laughed. "Luckily, dogs don't have to worry too much about memories."
"It can be useful; I agree." Minerva nodded in acknowledgement, understanding his meaning straight away. "Just not having to think for a while - or not think like a human, at least."
Suddenly catapulted back to when he had first seen it, Sirius had a vivid picture of Minerva in cat form. "Your animagus transformation - bloody marvellous, it is! It blew me away, when I was a lad. That first lesson - my eyes were out on stalks, and I remember thinking: whatever magic she's got, I want some of that."
Minerva smiled, a little smugly. "And indeed, you did get some. A very fine animagus form of your own, if you don't mind me saying so."
"Thanks." Sirius grinned. Being praised by your favourite teacher never got old, it seemed.
He felt warm, and surprisingly chipper. Sirius' mind was drifting back to good old times, and the combination of company and firewhisky had made him pretty relaxed. "I always had a thing for you, you know... when I was a student."
"Did you, now?" Minerva's eyebrows raised, and then she looked studiedly down into her swirling Scotch.
Sirius cursed himself for ending the conversation - him and his big mouth. She would certainly up and leave now, and probably wouldn't talk to him again for a few months, which would be nice and icy at Order meetings... oh bloody hell...
It took him a moment to register Minerva's next words; slow and measured. She looked up once again and locked Sirius' gaze, the smallest of smirks playing at her lips: "Do tell me all about it."