The Sound of Silence
Minerva always had a soft spot for Potter. Maybe that's why when it was time to choose a Head Boy alongside Lily Evans, he was was clearly the only option--- A series of vignettes of James and Lily's seventh year through McGonagall's POV.
AN: Posting this one a day early because I won't have time tomorrow (sorry) Written for Jily Week 2024, Day 5: Matchmaker (hosted by @kay-elle-cee and @sunshinemarauder)...Fully dedicate this one to the many teacher meetings I've sat through where we all devolve into gossiping about students. AO3 Link Here
I.
They sat around a circular table which always reminded Minerva of a story she heard as a child. Her colleagues had shuffled in slowly, still rosy with summer and the ever rejuvenating feeling of silence after a school years worth of endless noise.
Filius sat next to her, pulling out a pipe and stoking it with a flame emitted from his short stubby finger. He sighed and a puff of smoke wafted into the middle of the table.
“Here we are again—” he said to no one in particular. Minerva just clasped her hands on the table and waited for the final stragglers to trickle in.
Albus sat on the other side of the sphere and regarded his staff with half-amusement. Many of them had been long friends—giving centuries of their lives to the school. How many powerful witches and wizards had they watched slip out of these doors with their collective spirit within them? If the thought wasn’t so saccharine, Minerva would have perhaps felt a little proud.
Albus cleared his throat and the staff settled. At this point they needed no commencement speech on why they all were called from their little parts of the castle to assemble, nor did they want one. The golden rule was short meetings were the best ones.
Horace spoke first. He always did.
“Obviously I think there’s no arguing that Lily Evans should be the first pick.”
There was a rumble of agreement. Even Filius made a reluctant nod. He never willingly wanted to agree with Horace on much of anything.
“That’s a fine choice Horace, but are you not worried about the matter of her blood status? I’m sure you are not ignorant of the current news and I can imagine your house is quite…vocal about these happenings.”
McGonagall heard a snort from Filius which was hard to miss seeing as it bounced his whole body slightly off his chair.
“Oh, Albus, must we always make these things so political,” Horace whined, “Evans is a brilliant witch…the best of her year—I’m sure we can—we can—” He teetered off, not knowing how to finish. It wasn’t a secret that despite his affinity for the muggleborn, his house was not so keen to accept her. They all would be idiots to disregard the dangers of putting someone of her status in charge in the current climate.
But Albus didn’t press further. It was never his nature. “Then it’s settled. Lily Evans is Head Girl.” There was another mumbled agreement. Horace’s face was pink and slightly sweaty, but he nodded all the same.
“So onwards to—”
There was a shuffle of teachers. Sybill spoke first:
“Oh, Oh! I choose the Delile boy. His tea leaves have always shown potential.” A couple seats down, Pomona snorted.
“Colin Delile? That boy tried to eat a handful of nightshade thinking it was mint last year—”
“Well, I vote for Ambroise Cunningham: smart, good quidditch player (“mediocre quidditch player,” Minerva thought) and has a good head on his shoulders!” Interjected Rolanda.
There were some nods in agreement but Filius started to tut.
“Are you all forgetting that Cunningham and Evans dated two years ago? They’ll kill each other!”
“Oh, I would hardly call that dating,” Horace scoffed.
“They certainly looked like they were dating when I found them in the charms broom closet that October!” Filius shot back.
He had a point. She wouldn’t call Filius her friend per se but she had a fond appreciation for him being insightful when it came to the students’ lives. He was very discreet, perhaps with the help of his size, but he always was up to date on each of their lives.
Minerva mulled a thought around for a minute while drowning out the verbal quidditch that was occurring for the rest of the staff. It was a gamble, certainly. But she had never been the one to shy away from a challenge.
Raising her voice above the riffraff she called out, “I say James Potter should be Head Boy.”
The room went silent. Around the table, every set of eyes peered at her with mixtures of shock.
Chaos erupted.
“Potter can’t keep himself out of detention to save his life,” screamed Aurora.
“That and his little group were growing muggle drugs in the west greenhouses!” Pomona chimed in.
Albus didn’t even try to get order. He just continued to stare at her with an expression that twinkled beyond the room.
Minerva huffed. “Well, can any of you deny that he is brilliant?” Everyone paused. A wave of indecision rushed through the group.
“And we know he’s a good leader. The Gryffindor team has won every year since he became captain.” Horace grumbled something under his breath but she ignored it.
“---And, we are going to need someone who is willing to help, Hecate forbid, if there is an attack of some sort due to all this Dark Lord bunk. He might be scrappy and a fool sometimes, but he’d be able to hold his ground for the others.”
There was a hesitant noise of agreement around the table. People shifted in their seats, not able to find fault in her logic but also not enjoying its outcome.
“And what about Evans then?” Horace had his arms crossed against his chest. “Potter has been tormenting the poor girl for years. They would be rubbish, absolute rubbish—”
“Ah, shut it Horace,” Filius scoffed, “We all know those two have been clouding up this school with sexual tension for a better half of a year now.” More nods all around.
Minerva had hoped that no one would make the romance argument, but it couldn’t be helped. Potter and Evans had been making all of their lives unbearable, with their oblivious pining and rowing. It was like watching an ouroboros eat itself the way the two provoked each other. There was a small part of her that even hoped that matching the two together would end their purgatory.
“Ah, the ancient magic of young love,” Albus mused to himself, stroking his beard. “I won’t deny that I like the idea. Are there…any others who seriously denounce the decision to make Potter Head Boy?”
Horace made a few grumbles, but ultimately kept quiet. He knew once Albus made a decision, he wasn’t easy to sway.
“Then it’s settled, Lily Evans and James Potter.”
“Hecate help us,” Pomona mumbled under her breath.
II.
She watched as they shifted next to each other uncomfortably. Both of them dawned golden badges with encrusted initials on them that looked too heavy to be pinned to their robes. She had honestly expected more hiccups on the first day back, but something had already seemed to have shifted between them. Evans actually smiled when Potter offered her some dessert, took it from him and blushed when their hands grazed. She said something and James let out a laugh that made her smile as well.
“Now, that’s interesting.” Filius whistled, sitting next to her at the great banquet. “Maybe your little matchmaking stunt was unneeded.” He side-eyed her and she didn’t entertain his amusement.
She looked back at the young couple. Potter had begun to explain something with extreme animation. He waved his hands around and Lily actually laughed at his antics. When he finally finished whatever he was saying, his hand rested on the bench between them and Minerva swore she saw Evans place hers on top of his.
“Oh Merlin, what have I done.”
III.
“I think we have Miss Evans to thank for his rehabilitation. That girl can do anything,” Horace chortled at lunch a week later.
“What are you talking about? He blew up the Slytherin bathroom just yesterday.”
“Well—he would have done it six more times already if it wasn’t for her influence!”
No one could argue that there was a great change between the two Heads. Horace wasn’t wrong, Potter was being better behaved this year and in turn Evans had started to cozy up to him more and more. Even at that moment, they entered the great hall together. Potter had both of their bags slung over his shoulder and his eyes were glued to her. As they sat, Evans pulled his glasses off in a fuss, cast a cleaning charm on them, then put them back on his face. Her hand lingered to push some of his unruly hair away and he made a dopey swooning smile.
“It's like watching a dead body be reanimated,” Filius nodded towards the two.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Don’t act like you aren’t seeing this. At this rate they’ll be married by graduation.”
She looked over again. They were sitting so close that their shoulders were touching. Black was engaging them in conversation with a lively reenactment of some muggle movie they had watched, but the couple seemed to be hardly listening. Slowly, like attempting to touch fire, Evans leaned her head onto James shoulder—slightly hovering it in indecision for a moment before putting her weight fully on his. Potter perked up, then dared to place an arm around her waist.
Filius let out a low whistle. Horace moaned.
“I was really hoping she would get with one of the Black boys..” Horace mumbled, “ blood purity aside, I do think they would be better suited…”
But he got cut off by Pomona who came half sprinting down the table.
“Are you seeing this?? Potter! Evans!”
VI.
Christmas break was already upon them, which meant all of the professors were stretched too thin to think. Heads of house always had the worst of it. On one hand that meant she didn’t have to see Horace chortling around the castle half as much, but on the other she now had the Gryffindor house and the two Head students to preside over. As she walked, she mumbled to herself about how she would never offer up a Gryffindor into the Head position again.
She mounted the stone steps towards the Heads’ office, trying to balance all the rolled parchments in her arms. Entering the small elaborate passage, she could see the light of the office was on.
As she approached the image of them became more clear. Potter was elongated over the couch with his feet dangling lazily over the edge of the armrest. Evans laid between his splayed legs and over his torso. Using her forearms, she propped up on his chest and seemed to be drawing small circles into his shirt. Potter fiddled with her hair, twisting it through his fingers as though it was a snitch evading being caught.
They spoke in low tones so she could hardly make out what they were saying. Potter said something to make her laugh tinkle into the cavernous room before tugging lightly on her to become eye level. Minerva watched with a sinking feeling as her two Head students locked lips, and proceeded to not break away from each other for a long time.
She stood there in the passage, feeling a bit sorry for herself for being in this position: busy, overworked, trying to teach a class while helping Albus get a counterforce together...and now apparently being too sheepish to tell her Head Students to stop snogging long enough to take some of the work off her hands.
With a little shriek from Evans, Potter flipped them over so he was now hovering over her while a hand disappeared somewhere Minerva did not want to guess. Admitting a sort of defeat, she spun on her heel and left the way she came.
V.
The morning of the last day of school started like all of the other 200 times she’d done it. She woke up, made herself some tea, shifted into her cat form and curled around her bedroom window.
A knock rattled the door. She lifted her head and hoped that whoever was bothering her would take the hint. Another set of knocks, and distinctly not Albus’ typical rap. She did a cat’s equivalent of a sigh and changed herself human again.
She opened the door to find Potter looking out of breath and somewhat sheepish. Not a good start.
“Good morning Minnie,” he beamed at her.
“Mr. Potter, can I help you? It’s 6am…”
Potter ran a hand through his hair. On a glance over he looked suspiciously put together for the time of day.
“Er, yes actually. I’m hoping I banked enough goodwill with you to ask for a favor?” Even he sounded unsure of himself. She didn’t know what it was about him, but he always knew how to hit her soft spot.
“I don’t know about this goodwill, but I’m listening.”
He let out a relieved huff then suddenly became very animated. “Brilliant—ok. I can’t really tell you right now, because it's kind of a secret, but I would really really love it— and be forever grateful to you— if you kept students away from the lake this afternoon.”
Minerva blinked at him. There was no bone in his body that was not being sincere, she could see that, but how often had he looked the same when he wanted to do one of his little stunts.
Seeing her pursed lips, he continued. “I swear. I solemnly swear it's not a prank. Just please.”
“Ok.”
“Wait, what?” he blinked at her like she had grown two heads.
“Don't make me regret this decision Potter.”
“I won’t— would never. Ah, Thank you Minnie! You’re a doll!” He turned and bounded down the stairs.
XXX
It turned out to be quite difficult to keep students away from the lake, but she managed. The clock was ringing 3pm and she was starting to wonder how long she was supposed to keep things up when she spotted them. Potter and Evans were walking hand in hand. They both hadn’t changed into their regular clothes yet and Evans was talking softly. Potter looked like he wasn’t hearing a word of it. Honestly, he looked wrecked. Whatever was on his mind was clearly eating him alive—not at all the same collected boy that had knocked on her door that morning.
The lakeside was cleared as promised and they walked beside it before stopping and looking out at the mountains far away. It struck Minerva this would be the last time she would see these two in this setting. The next time they would meet they would be equals, fighting what now felt like an impossible war. She savored the moment of seeing two people in love, unaffected for perhaps the final time by death and sadness.
Potter turned to Evans looking like he was about to combust. Evans must have noticed because her brow furrowed and she placed a hand on his chest, which he immediately grabbed and held in both hands. Very shaky, he lowered himself onto one knee.
She waited for noise. For some sort of big show that Potter and his mates set up for the occasion, for students to come bursting at the seams of the castle to ruin the moment, for even just the sound of a yes.
Instead, there was silence. A blissful, pure silence. She must have blinked and missed it because Potter’s arms were wrapped around her now, lifting her off the ground. Tears poured from both of their eyes as they in turn tried to wipe the other's face—opting finally for kissing each tear off each other’s cheeks. There was no noise—just sweet relief.
For a split second, the two reverted back into their eleventh year selves. Small, unsure, and holding onto each other tightly against the weight of a world still unknown to them. It was the first time in a long time she wanted to cradle something in her arms. To tell them it was going to be alright; to keep them whole.
