Marauder crack

More observation theories

On Tuesday morning, in Transformations class, Minerva McGonagall decides that her seniors have a knowledge of magic that would not even be enough to transform an orange into a tangerine, so, in a fit of academic frustration, she forces them to spend the rest of the day in the library, studying with their ears tucked into the books to see if, forced to press their noses to their scrolls, they learn anything useful. Her surveillance is so thorough that when James gets up to go to the bathroom she gives him three minutes of time.

- or I assure you that I will send Mr. Filch after you with the order to bring you back with a chain tied to a place more painful than the neck.

James loses various shades of colour.

- Crystal clear professor.

He runs off in the direction of the boys' bathroom. McGonagall follows him round between the seats where the students take great care to not lookup. The only one who dares to seek a little respite from her iron discipline is Sirius, who has the brilliant idea of ​​putting one foot on thechair and bend the knee.

- Mr. Black, sit down with at least some composure. This is not a rock and roll concert.

He lowers his leg without daring to complain. It can't be said from Remus's damned letter that McGonagall has much of a waist with him. Too many words and you will face epic punishment. At Remus instead, she gives him a considerably kinder look, looking down and scrolling over him making mutterings of acceptance with just a few words.

- Go on like this, Mr. Lupin.

When she walks away towards a group of girls who murmur at the back tables, Sirius takes out his magic pen and writes "Remus" on the sheet. Once his name is gone, he writes a message down.

"McGonagall wet her panties for you, Moony."

-I'm going to ignore that I just read that- whispers Remus.

Sirius glances at the table in the back. McGonagall is still engaged, watching like a bird of prey any movement in the corner further from the windows.

- How can you deny it, Moony. It is clear that she likes circus monkeys, young, and obedient.

- I fulfil the last two and you the first two. Maybe she likes yours. Who knows, she may still have your letter, Sirius.

- It just wasn't my letter, if I remember correctly.

-But for her...

His eyes smile and Sirius mutters "bastard" under his breath. He lets it go for a while but has been studying for too long - or pretending to study, because he already knows by heart the enchantments in his book. He knew it before he started the punishment, actually. He gets bored and there are no teachers around. Just Remus. Liquid, languid, Remus.

- Not to mention Miss Pomfrey.

- What's wrong with her? - He asks, overcome by curiosity.

-Come on, Lupine- Sirius whispers. - That woman is butter in your hands. You are her favourite recurrent patient.

- Possibly because I am the only recurrent patient of hers. Besides, she's young. She only has patience.

Sirius ignores the comment and continues.

- The good woman likes to take care of you. Play doctors, Muggles say. I don't know if she would like more to lower your fever or for you to raise it. And as you say, not a significant age gap if you ask me...

- I would like to know what curious phenomenon has led you to the absurd conclusion that everyone wants to sleep with me.

Before he answers, McGonagall walks up to them again, stabs them with a deadly glare, and they have to take great care to continue the conversation.

With the magic pen, Sirius writes "Moony" and ponders what reply to the last comment from him. He writes "I don't understand why someone wants to not to sleep with you." He added to it, "I've slept with almost half of the magic world and still, I can't stop thinking about you."

Remus wears his tie slightly unbuttoned and takes a deep breath, balances the quill between his fingers, looks at him with heavy lids, above that very long nose. He is lost.

"When this torture is over, the second-floor broom room."

Remus does not vary in expression. He would think that he hasn't read it, and less he answered it. Except, that half an hour later (twenty-nine minutes, to be exact), the elves who pass the small room on their way to the kitchen see the closed door and hear a series of repetitive knocks on the wooden surface. Like two bodies colliding with it, trying to find a way to fit against each other.