Happy springsmut, lyras! Author:lee_west Recipient:lyras Title: Forbidden Rating: R Pairings: Cygnus/Minerva; Sirius/Minerva Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Summary: Minerva must make tough decisions between what's right or wrong for her. Warnings: Cross-gen. There are also precocious boys engaging in things kids their age shouldn't be doing – and we all know they don't, right? Word Count: ~5,800 Author's Notes: According to the Black family tree, Cygnus Black (1929-1979) is the youngest brother of Alphard and Walburga and the father of Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa. He married Druella Rosier.
A million thanks to my anonymous beta.
His fingers are like feathers on my body, the touch light and insistent at the same time. I feel each one of the caresses; my skin is sensitive as if burnt, as if a full layer has been peeled off, leaving only the raw flesh. He's started with my feet, which he says he's always loved, nipping and sucking at my toes, the sensitive arch, and then slowly licking up my calf. While his mouth and tongue drive me to ecstasy, his hand and fingers mimic the sensation on the other leg. Soon he's moved to the inside of my thighs and gently spreads my legs wider. I hear his breath hitch when he sees me open to him and that, in itself, is almost enough to bring me over the edge. I love that he feels like that about me, that I have the power to tantalize him like that.
He knows what I like and, with his tongue and fingers he brings me to an orgasm like only he can. He hardly waits for me to be done: while I am crying out his name, he moves quickly and enters me, filling me with himself.
Soon I come again, this time with him, biting my tongue to prevent me from saying the words I shouldn't say.
*** Spring 1943
Minerva clutched the books to her chest and set off for her room. The heavy library door closed behind her, with an impatient clang. She rolled her eyes, knowing that the inanimate door was only mirroring the feelings of the old librarian, who was probably eager to close down and go to bed herself.
It was way too late for Minerva to be out, but N.E.W.T.s were approaching and she used all her free time to study as hard as possible, especially for Transfiguration. She needed top marks in the subject so she could become a professor at Hogwarts and, furthermore, she was well on her way to successfully becoming an Animagus.
She was so immersed in her thoughts about the exams that she passed the little dark alcove without noticing anything unusual. She had only gone a few steps further, though, when she heard a strangled gasp. Ever the conscientious Head Girl, Minerva went back to see what was going on.
She dropped the books with a clatter and put her hand needlessly on her mouth to stifle a surprised cry: inside the alcove she saw a girl, a Slytherin whose name she couldn't remember, her robes open in the front, revealing a nice naked body. Two hands cupped her breasts from behind, kneading them and pinching the nipples. The hands belonged to another Slytherin, a boy whom Minerva knew quite well: Cygnus Black, younger brother of Walburga and Alphard.
The girl gasped louder when she heard the crash and tried to move Cygnus's hands away. He, however, grasped her tighter, making her whimper with the unexpected pain. With an insolent look, he smirked at Minerva and told the girl, "It's all right, Druella. Go back to the dormitory. I'll talk to Minnie here."
Minerva opened her mouth to retort. Nobody – and she meant nobody! - called her "Minnie." But she quickly closed it again: no point in saying anything. Druella – Druella Rosier, she remembered now – got dressed quickly, looking downcast, and rushed away. Cygnus, still smirking, crossed his arms and drawled, "Did that turn you on? Do you want to feel how good it is? I'll show you."
Minerva had a sharp tongue and was never at a loss for words, but in fact, Cygnus had a point: she was definitely turned on, as proven by the wetness between her legs. So it took a little while for her to answer the petulant boy with the piercing grey eyes and the good looks of his older brother, on whom Minerva had a slight crush. In her sternest tone, sure that she sounded like an old schoolmarm, she said, "Cygnus Black, I will report this to the Headmaster. Firstly, you're out of your room after hours. Secondly, you're not of legal age to engage in...in such things."
Cygnus's reaction was not the one Minerva had expected; normally the students were terrified of being caught in a compromising situation, because Headmaster Dippet invariably sent an owl to their parents.
But Cygnus, instead of cowering, actually laughed. "Come on, don't be a prig. Such things are part of life."
He took a couple of steps toward her, and Minerva realized she couldn't move: she felt as if her feet were nailed to the floor. He put his hand on her braid and, in one deft movement, untied it, letting her hair cascade down her back. "Hmm...sexy Minnie," he said, his lips grazing her neck.
Now his hands were moving down her back and he cupped her buttocks, whispering, "I've always thought that you were sexy, and probably wild, too, just like a tigress that needs to be let loose. I want you, Minnie. I want to be your first – you are a virgin, aren't you? I want to unleash the animal in you. I want to show you how good it is. Trust me."
Minerva wouldn't admit that she was a virgin and she wouldn’t have trusted Cygnus if her life depended on it, but then he pulled her closer against him, and she felt his erection pressing against her lower belly and his mouth, hot on hers. It was definitely a wonderful sensation, and it would be so easy to let him go on…
No, it would be foolish and wrong! What was she thinking about? She was Head Girl! She was hoping to be a professor at Hogwarts. She had an example to set. Gathering all her strength, she pushed Cygnus away. He stumbled, hit the back of his head against the opposite wall, and exclaimed, “Damn!”. He rubbed his head, wincing at the pain. "Sorry to swear," he mumbled, which struck her as strange: here he was, propositioning her in a most debauched way and yet apologizing for the use of a bad word.
She cleared her throat and straightened out her robes. "Go back to your room, Cygnus. I...I won't report you to Professor Dippet, but you have to promise me this won't happen again."
He stared at her for a minute. "You want me to promise what won't happen again? If it's my little...rendezvous with Druella, you don't have to worry about it. I can restrain myself, and you scared her anyway. She won't risk being caught a second time. But," he continued, smirking again, "if you mean that you and I won't happen again, then I'm sorry, but I won't promise that."
"You're insane, Cygnus," Minerva exclaimed, trying to sound authoritarian, but knowing that the boy was not impressed. "And you’re only a child," she added, hoping he would be insulted.
"I'm less of a child than you are. I certainly have much more experience."
"It doesn't matter," she answered angrily, her face red. "You’re much younger than me and I consider you a child." She did her best not to pout or tap her foot.
"What's age, Minnie? Only a few years? It doesn't make any difference. Unless," he said, shaking his head, "you prefer my brother? I’ve seen you looking at him a few times." He made a mocking face. "But I think it's a lost cause, Minnie. I don't think Alphard likes girls."
"Don't call me Minnie," she retorted, surprised at the revelation about Alphard. She would never have guessed. He looked so...manly.
"Why not?"
"Nobody calls me that."
"But I will." He approached her again. "I'll call you Minnie from now on." He bent down – why were those Black boys so tall, even at that young age? – and whispered in her ear, "I'll call you Minnie when we're making love, when I make you lose control, and you'll love it. You'll ask me to call you Minnie."
***
"Minnie, Minnie, I love you."
The words I didn't want to say. I don't want to tell him that I love him, too, that I have loved him for so long. Not that he needs to hear it – he knows it already, I'm sure. He knows I'm powerless against him, that I will do almost everything he asks of me.
He's not satisfied with the "almost." He wants it all. He collapses on top of me and, after he regains his breath, he looks at me with those incredible grey eyes. He's waiting for me to say it, so he can insist, make me do the only thing I don't want.
I pull his face towards me and I embrace him. His sigh shows a bit of frustration, but he loves to hide his face between my shoulder and my hair.
I buy some time.
*** Winter 1946
Of all the wrong things she'd done in her life, this was by far the worst, Minerva thought, as she fastened her robes without looking at the naked body sprawled on the bed.
Yet it was also the best. After years of fending off Cygnus's not-so-subtle advances, Minerva had caved in. Or rather, fallen prey to a devious plot, of the kind that could only be concocted by a Slytherin. It happened towards the end of the term, before the Christmas holidays. After one of her seventh-year Transfiguration classes, Cygnus had stayed behind.
"What do you want, Cygnus?" she asked, rearranging the parchments on her desk so she wouldn't have to look at him.
"I'll be eighteen on Christmas Day," he said happily.
She lifted her eyes to him. "Well, happy birthday," she said curtly.
"Eighteen should be old enough, even for you," he said.
"Old enough for what?" She immediately regretted the question. During the past three years she'd managed to let him know that nothing would ever happen between the two of them, counting the reasons on her fingers: he was far younger than her, he wasn't of age, he was her student…
When she finished Hogwarts, she thought that Cygnus would forget her; after all, there were the summer holidays and, when she returned, she would be a teacher and he a student. But when the autumn term began, Cygnus seemed more interested in her than ever. To make matters worse, he came back looking even better than before – he was more of a man and much less of a boy. It was hard for Minerva to resist him, so she set up rules: he was in no circumstance allowed to touch her or try to kiss her. But she couldn't prevent him from constantly trying to be around her, sometimes under the guise of asking for help with homework. He was by far her best student, but she was painfully aware that he was watching every one of her movements in class.
She couldn't prevent him from telling her, in a whisper, that he loved her and he wanted her more than anything else in the world. And that it would only be a matter of time until she was his.
"I will never be yours, as you put it, Cygnus."
"Aw, Minnie, don't say that," he answered with mock disappointment.
"And don't call me Minnie. I'm Professor McGonagall."
"Hmm...Minnie! How deliciously perverted! If I'm a bad student, will you punish me? Put me over your knees and spank my bare buttocks? And then kiss them better?" He grinned and winked at her. "We live and learn. I didn't know you had those marvelous deviations in you! That makes it even more interesting."
She hated the way her nipples hardened and she became wet just from hearing Cygnus saying such things. "Go away, Cygnus."
"Not until you tell me you'll give me a gift for my birthday."
"I won't give you the gift you want."
"And what's that?"
"You know." She finished arranging the parchments and started walking toward the door. She had some time between classes and she was planning to go to her room to take care of the demands of her body. She would do it thinking about Cygnus and spanking his bare, firm buttocks, but he didn't have to know that.
He blocked her way. "Tell me again," he asked gently. "Maybe I have something else in mind."
She sighed. "It's what you always ask: you want to sneak into my room for a night."
"Aha! I knew you were wrong. That’s not what I want, Minnie."
She opened her mouth to tell him not to call her Minnie, but she knew his standard answer would only make her already precarious situation worse. Right at that instant, she still had the strength to go to her room and masturbate. But if he started again telling her how she would love it when he called her Minnie in the throes of passion, she might lose her resolve and fuck him right there in her classroom. 'What do you want, then?" she asked wearily, wishing to end the conversation.
"Tell me first you'll give it to me."
What could it be? Maybe a kiss? She could do that, she supposed. She was dying to kiss him again, since that first and only time when she’d caught him with Druella. Besides, it had been months since she last kissed anyone, a man she'd met on a trip, who did her the favor of ridding her of her virginity without any emotional involvement. She'd done it because of Cygnus. She sensed that her resolve was eroding, and, if it ever happened between them, there was no way she'd give him the pleasure of having been her first. Besides, she had been almost twenty-two and very curious. She thought the experience, while not disagreeable, was not all it was cracked up to be. But she was left wondering what it would be like with Cygnus.
She shrugged. "Fine. As long as it doesn't involve you sneaking into my room to spend the night."
He grinned widely. "Thank you!" He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a piece of parchment, which he handed to her.
"What's that?" she asked.
"My gift. Open it."
Inside. Minerva found a confirmation for dinner and a room for two at the Hog's Head, for the first day after the Christmas holidays.
She tried to cry foul, but, in reality she admitted to herself that it would be good to have done with it. After that night, Cygnus would leave her alone.
***
I comb his black hair with my fingers while I look at the ceiling of the room at the Hog's Head, deciding what to do next. He's almost asleep, or pretending to be, face down on my shoulder, half of his body on top of mine. He's beautiful like that and I know all I have to do is to say what he wants to hear – and I'll have him with me every day. Living together, sharing a life.
And why not? He says he loves me. He doesn't need to lie – I've never asked him to tell me what he feels for me. He says it because he wants to, because it's the truth.
His hair is smooth as silk under my fingers; it was a bit long, but I told him I preferred him with shorter hair and he immediately cut it. I think he'd do anything I wanted. I'm sure he'd marry me if I only suggested it.
It would certainly make life simpler. People would frown, of course – I am older than him and I'm his professor. Maybe we can wait until he finishes school, because then nobody will have anything to say about my teaching him, marking his papers and tests.
But I will still be the older woman. That will never change.
People will talk.
I shouldn't care about people and what they'll say. Not when he starts nuzzling my neck, ready to start again.
*** Summer 1947
Minerva was waiting in the room where she and Cygnus met. He was running late, and she wondered what had happened. He was usually early, waiting for her with an eagerness that the months together hadn't erased. In fact, he seemed to want her more, to love her more, as time passed.
Term had ended one week earlier, and Cygnus had some family events to attend. That was the longest they had been apart since his birthday celebration in January, and Minerva was feeling nervous about the delay. Maybe Cygnus had found someone else?
She was half-convinced that he would never return to her when the door opened and Cygnus came in bearing a huge bouquet of flowers. He opened his arms and she rushed into them. He gallantly offered her the flowers and then, from his pocket, he took a small box. In a move that surprised her, he knelt in front of her, offered her the box and said, "I'm no longer your student. Now I am only the man who loves you more than life. Minerva McGonagall, will you marry me?"
She opened the box and saw a large emerald ring, almost certainly a Black family heirloom. Perplexed, she didn't know what to say. Cygnus stood up and gently tried to slide the ring on to her finger. Minerva pulled her hand back.
"What're you doing?" he asked, confused.
"I...I can't accept this ring, Cygnus. It looks ancient, like a family jewel."
"It is. It was my grandmother's and it's supposed to be worn by the bride of the oldest male in the family." He raised his hand to stop her from saying anything. "What I suspected about Alphard is true. He's left the family and is living with another man. So the ring should go to my bride. You, darling."
"But Cygnus, we can't get married!"
"Why not? I love you and, although you’ve never said it, I'm sure you love me, too. You show it to me in a very clear way when we..." He looked at the bed. "And I want you next to me, Minnie, for the rest of my life."
"But your family will never approve."
"I don't care. It's my life. I should be able to live it as I want."
"It's not that simple," she said, crossing her arms and walking to the window.
"Of course it is. Frankly, the only thing they would care about is that I choose a pureblood, and you are, so, there’s absolutely no problem."
"There are ideological differences between your family and me, purity of blood aside."
Cygnus chuckled. "Oh, here's my tigress coming out of her cage. I can see what fun our Sunday dinners will be, with my bride and parents arguing about the future of Wizarding Britain and the infestation of Muggles into our society."
"I don't think they would be happy about this, Cygnus. I know how your parents are. How your whole family is. I teach – or taught – some of you, remember?"
He approached her. "Yes, Professor McGonagall, I remember fondly all your lessons." He stroked her face and pulled her close for a kiss. "Don't worry about my family. Even if it's awkward in the beginning, they will accept you."
She let herself be kissed. When they disengaged and he showed her the ring again, she pulled him to the bed. Cygnus fell on top of her, laughing. "Minnie! You wild woman. I almost dropped the ring."
"Put it on the bedside table," she said, bringing his face close to hers. She heard the soft clank when he laid the ring down and shivered when he said, in a low, expectant voice, "Today you'll tell me you love me, won't you? Please?"
***
It's hard for me to control myself this time. He seems to have sensed something, because this time it's even better than all the times before. When we finish, he kneels on the bed between my legs, holds my hands and tells me he loves me.
He waits to hear me telling him I love him, too, but I don't. I just stare at him.
It's my last resistance, and it almost shatters when he asks me to marry him.
But I can't. I won't, and I tell him.
He asks me why. I can't bring his family into this discussion, so I tell him it's the age difference. He says he doesn't care about it. That I am the only person for him, the only woman who can make him feel complete as a man.
But he's not a man; he's barely out of boyhood. I insist that age is the reason, and he shakes his head, gets upset, tells me that if he doesn't worry about it, why would it even matter?
Unless I don't love him?
I can see the hurt in his face. It would be so easy to lie and tell him that I don't love him. He would give the idea up, and find a girl his age to marry and have children with.
I open my mouth, but I can't lie.
*** Summer 1950
It was one of those lazy summer Sundays. Alone in the cottage she'd rented for the holidays, Minerva made herself a nice cup of tea and opened the Daily Prophet. She tutted at most of the news, especially the articles by that Skeeter woman. The paper was really bad, but that Sunday morning she had plenty of time and she'd decided to read it all. Even the society pages, which had never held any interest for her.
On the first page there was a huge picture of Cygnus, looking dashing in dress robes, next to a woman Minerva recognized, but couldn't place. The caption informed her that Cygnus Black, youngest son of Orion and Irma, had just got engaged to Druella Rosier.
Druella. The naked girl in the alcove. Minerva studied the picture carefully. Druella was still pretty, her breasts probably every bit as pert as they were the night Cygnus was kneading them. The thought of Cygnus and breasts brought back the memory of his hands on her chest, and how gentle they had been. Even when he was going over the edge, he'd been careful not to hurt her, ever.
She sighed and read the article: the happy couple was supposed to get married in December, on Christmas day, the day the groom would turn twenty-one. A gala was being planned, and the reporter indicated clearly that the cream of Wizarding society should expect an invitation.
Minerva turned the page. She obviously wouldn't be invited. Firstly, she was definitely not part of the "cream" of Wizarding society. And, secondly, the last time Cygnus had talked to her was that fateful day he proposed to her; the day she told him she wouldn't marry him regardless of his family or her age. She wouldn't marry him because she didn't love him. She liked him, she was very attracted to him and he was a great lover. But she had no passion for him.
The lie had hurt him immensely, and he'd left the room with his clothes in disarray. In his haste, he forgot the ring lying on the bedside table.
The next day she sent an owl to Cygnus, carrying only the ring. No words. No apologies. She'd tried to write something, but she'd smudged all the letters with her tears. In the end, she gave up. She never heard from him, but she hoped he'd got the ring back.
It's better this way, she thought as she turned the page of the newspaper. She'll be a good wife to him, give him children and make him happy. She doesn't have the issues I did; his family would accept her easily - she probably shares their beliefs, in a way I never could. And she never was his professor: I can't imagine what people would say, knowing that I was old enough to teach him. But she couldn't read any more, and her tea got cold as she stared in the distance.
Just before she threw the paper away, Minerva glanced at the picture again. And only then did she notice the heirloom emerald ring on Druella's finger.
*** Spring 1974
Sirius followed Minerva docilely, cool as a cucumber, obviously not worried at all about having being caught snogging the seventh-year Ravenclaw prefect in an alcove at midnight. The girl had shrieked when she saw Minerva's stern face staring at the two of them, and pushed Sirius away. As a result, her naked top half was in full view of Minerva, who shook her head and murmured, "Not again!"
Just as dismissively as his uncle, Sirius shooed the prefect back to her Common Room and told Minerva that he was the one to blame and he'd take the punishment by himself.
At least he's not calling me Minnie, Minerva thought as she directed him to her office. She opened the door and Sirius bowed his head, saying, "After you." Inside, he sat comfortably in front of her and stared at her, his face serene, with a little smile, as if it was the most common thing in the world, to be caught as he'd been.
"Mr Black," Minerva started sternly, "you know that you were doing something very wrong."
"Excuse me, Professor McGonagall, but it was not wrong. Maybe not sanctioned by the school, but there was no harm done. She was as willing as I was."
"Mr. Black! It was definitely wrong! You are too young, to start with." The words sounded stale and they hurt. It didn't help that, right in front of her, was a perfect copy of Cygnus, with the same build and features and with an identical smirk on his face.
"I'm fifteen!" Sirius exclaimed, scandalized.
"Correct. Too young."
Sirius bent forward a little, his brows furrowed. "Professor, fifteen is not too young. Do you have an idea of how many fifteen year olds in this school have...you know?"
Minerva drew a deep breath. It was the seventies, after all, and the liberal mores of Muggle society were permeating every aspect of their world, including the school. She knew he was right: just a few years before, Hogwarts had started offering sex education courses, after a flurry of unexpected pregnancies. Minerva was sure that the current record of zero pregnancies had a lot to do with the fact that Poppy freely distributed contraceptive potions. The courses promoted abstinence as the only foolproof method, but that hadn’t gone down very well.
"Well, whatever the case, this is a school, you were out after hours, you are under the legal age to be engaging in sexual acts and your partner is not. It was very noble that you took the blame, although you’ve told me that both of you were willing. Just the sheer fact that you are a minor and she's not is enough cause for her to be prosecuted as a child molester.”
"CHILD MOLESTER?" Sirius shouted, standing up. "What're you talking about? She was not molesting me. We were just snogging, that's all."
"I know it was mutual consent, but in the eyes of the law you're still a minor."
"Professor, please don't do anything against her. She's... she's a nice girl, we get along fine and I don't want anything to happen to her. You can send an owl to my parents; they'll probably be upset, but only because she's a half-blood."
"You like her, don't you?" Minerva asked, her voice softer.
Sirius shrugged. "I don't love her, but I like her all right." He smiled a bit mischievously. "I like older women."
Minerva froze, but didn't say anything. Sirius continued. "I think it's a family trait. The men in my family tend to fall for older women. My dad. My uncle Cygnus. Even my uncle Alphard, though he fell for an older man."
My uncle Cygnus. That was right: Druella had finished school before Cygnus, actually the same year as she, Minerva, did.
Unfazed by her lack of response – or possibly encouraged by it – Sirius continued. "In fact, I like much older women. If you’ll forgive me, Professor, I think you're pretty hot yourself."
That brought Minerva down to earth. "Sirius!" In her outrage she even forgot to call him by his family name. "This is highly inappropriate. I am your Professor, not to mention your Head of House."
He lifted his hands, palms outward, in a placating gesture. "I know, I know, you're not a child molester. But I'll be of age one day, Professor, so don't forget it."
Minerva sent him away without a punishment. She only wanted him out of her office. After he left, she sat down for a while, thinking that she was definitely a pervert. She was at least thirty-five years older than the boy. The boy! A handsome, cocky, self-assured boy!
Once more, Minerva spent the night tossing and turning in her bed, unable to sleep. The faces of Cygnus and Sirius meshed in her brain and, when she finally fell asleep, she dreamed she was making love to one of them.
When she woke up, she couldn't remember which one.
*** Autumn 1977
After almost three years of being courted by Sirius, both with innuendos and frontal approaches, Minerva decided she wouldn't fall for the same sort of sneaky trick Cygnus had played on her. The fact was that she was very attracted to Sirius, who, if possible, was even more handsome than his uncle. Besides, she rationalized, their world was on the brink of a serious war, and who knew whether either of them would survive? So, for Sirius's eighteenth birthday, she booked a room for them at the Hog's Head – the same room she and Cygnus had used.
When he undressed her, she was proud that her breasts were still firm and her stomach flat. There was a bit of extra skin under her chin, but, on the whole, she was a very attractive middle-aged woman. Sirius obviously thought so, too, and she confirmed he'd not been lying about his older woman fetish. He was just as skilled a lover as his uncle had been, but, for Minerva, it was better still. She loved Cygnus, she was only slightly older than him and, if she hadn't been so worried about her status as his teacher and of marrying into the prejudiced Black family, the age difference wouldn't have mattered. But, with Sirius, it was only fun. He was too young to even entertain thoughts of marrying her, of making their relationship public. She had nothing to fear. All she had to do was to enjoy this beautiful young man making love to her.
They would never fall in love with each other. It was impossible.
***
I close my mouth again, and he insists on an answer to his question. Don't I love him? Is that it? He tells me he doesn't want to hear any bullshit about age difference. He doesn't care. In fact, he loves it. He loves that I'm older, that I don't play young girls' games. That I’m a real woman.
What can I say? That I’m old, too old for him? That he'll look his best when I am declining? That I can't give him the children he may want? I know he'll have an answer for each of those objections, and he'll kill my resolve.
Because there's nothing else I want more than to say yes. To be his bride. To care for him during the day and to melt my body with his every night. To protect him as a mother, to hear his secrets like a friend, to be his support like a wife and to fuck him like the lowest whore. I want to be everything to him.
All I have to do is say yes, I love you. And give my hand to him, knowing that he'll take it proudly.
My body wants it. My heart wants it. But my conscience rebels. I will be able to be his wife and be happy with him when we're together. But I won't be able to face the world. I will be the old woman who married the young man. People will smile at us when we pass by, and then talk about how repugnant I am. How could I? Can't I see that I'm destroying his life?
He leaves the bed and punches the mattress. I can feel his anger, his frustration. I hate to see him like this.
"Minerva!" In his wrath, he doesn't call me by the nickname I’ve come to love. I'm not Minnie now.
"Minerva!" he insists, and I look at him. "Tell me NOW! I can't stand this any more. It all depends on you, on what you feel for me. If you love me, we'll get married and we'll be happy together, the two of us, regardless of what anyone else thinks about us. That's all I need to know. Do you love me, Minerva, the way I love you?"
I make up my mind, and, once again, I lie, even though I know the consequences.
"No, Sirius, I don't love you."
*** Summer 1979
Minerva opened the Daily Prophet, skimmed through it and put it down beside her chair. She was just about to get up and go for a swim in the lake when she saw the notice with the black border – and the Black crest. She read it and crunched the newspaper into a ball, her eyes wet with tears.
Cygnus Black, loving husband of Druella and father of Bellatrix and Narcissa had passed away.
*** November 1981
There was no need to read the newspaper – word had already spread through the Wizarding world. Minerva transformed into a cat and went to Privet Drive, to wait for the arrival of the only surviving Potter.
The roar of the bike brought a pain worse that she'd ever felt. Sirius's toy, the one he loved to show off, on which he looked like a Muggle movie star. She'd seen the bike many times, outside the Order’s meeting-place and, she was sure, hidden in the bushes by the cottage she rented every summer.
For some time, she’d hardly talked to the owner of the bike, nothing more than the usual polite greetings. She often sensed him looking at her, but she didn't return his glances. A few times she considered telling him that she'd lied that day in the Hog's Head, that she had loved him immensely, and still did. But she never quite managed it. What was the use? Why start something she would be unable to finish?
Standing in front of 4, Privet Drive, watching Dumbledore carry the baby to the door, Minerva wondered ruefully if she could have made a difference. Had she admitted her feelings for Sirius, married him, made him happy, would he still have betrayed the Potters?
That was something she would never know. But it was certainly another item to add to her list of regrets.