Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter—no copyright infringement is intended. Rated T for cursing and some sexual/suggestive language (it's a story about a group of teenage boys, what else do you expect?). Ye've been warned.

Without further ado, here's Baby, I Mean It. Enjoy.

Chapter One: Retribution Rears its Ugly… Pacifier?

Professor Minerva McGonagall prided herself on her ability to remain calm under even the most alarming of circumstances. Needless to say, a little bit of self-control went a long way in sorting out mishaps. And mishaps she did sort. Partial bodily transfigurations, hex damage, errant love potions… she dealt with accidents daily, which, though they grew predictable, never grew dull. Such were expected in a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Merlin knew what else one should expect when the very concept of Hogwarts included magical, hormonal children in a confined area. It was like putting a litter of Kettleburn's fire crabs in Slughorn's potion storeroom. Accidents were bound to happen.

For the number of disasters that came her way, Minerva was proud of her ability to quickly and efficiently resolve them. A cool composure and strict words were often enough to solve a conflict, but when stricter discipline was necessary, such as when Benjamin Grey began smuggling flobberworms in bulk or Marissa Martin and her boyfriend snuck out after hours, she dealt it out accordingly. Discipline was healthy for students: it gave them direction and an opportunity to reflect on their mistakes, especially when their hormones drove them in the opposite direction. She felt a keen sense of satisfaction watching students learn as they grew, so that by the time they had graduated, they were more knowledgeable, mature, and responsible than they had been when they first walked into the Great Hall. After all, education was more than just about knowledge. It was about helping students learn and grow into driven young adults.

And for the most part, Minerva's students did learn and grow. Some went through rough phases, some of which lasted longer than others. Of course, she nearly always had to deal with one Slytherin utterly determined to reject guidance from the Gryffindor Head of House, or one hopeless airhead from Hufflepuff, or one Ravenclaw who thought she knew better, or one Gryffindor who took more than a few punishments to learn his lesson, but even they moved on, eventually. Minerva felt confident that, despite some of the less-than-stellar decisions her students made, the students she sent off into the world could better care for themselves than they had been many years before. Most of them.

Of course, there was also Sirius Black and James Potter.

Minerva swore on her Scottish heritage (which was only used for severe swearing, mind you) that if not for those two smirking Gryffindors, Minerva would not have so many gray hairs. Until they had arrived at the school with their custom theatrical bang, her perception of herself was that of a careful, unwavering, conscientious, and unbiased professor. Now… well, let's just say that the mere sight of the pair evoked worse reactions. Detentions in the first week as first-years! Minerva had never witnessed such a thing! The little horrors! If only then she had realized just the amount of grief she would suffer. It had been six years of disaster, and the pair was no different than how they arrived. Brothers, they were. She knew they were very intelligent. But they were just as insufferable, inseparable, and impish as they had been at age eleven.

Minerva had once sat them down for a severe talking to at the end of their fifth year, in the concern that they were not driven enough. She had dealt with many unmotivated students throughout her teaching years. But there was something especially shameful about watching such talent go to waste. Two boys from her own House—utterly brilliant and gifted. How many times had James Potter won her team Quidditch victories or Sirius Black managed to transfigure above and beyond his peers' abilities? She knew that they had it in them, but the most frustrating aspect was the fact that they made no effort to think about their lives at school.

"Glad to know you care about our academic future, Professor," James Potter had replied when she had scolded them for not taking their lessons seriously. The insufferable boy had the audacity to smirk at her, ruffling his offensively black hair.

"Not your academic future, Potter," she had corrected him, looking over the rims of her glasses. She knew the action intimidated most students, but James and Sirius only grinned at her. "Rather, your ability to self-discipline yourself. Your grades are above average, but I find, as many of your other professors have in the past, that the irresponsible nature of your behavior reflects a serious lack of judgment – oh, for goodness' sake, Black, wipe that smirk off your face or you will land yourself a month's detention."

"I can't help it, Professor," the boy had said. He gave her a dashing wink, and Minerva briefly wondered how many girls he had managed to snag with his easy charm. "I have a serious problem with keeping my face straight."

Minerva glared at him for a long while.

"Can we have a biscuit before we leave?"

Minerva had learned something that meeting. Instead of causing trouble for trouble's sake, she now suspected that they did it solely to drive her up the wall. From pranks to harassment to destruction of property, she knew very well that they recognized the error of their actions. She knew they were extremely intelligent and talented individuals. It had showed in their O.W.L. performances, in the ease with which they performed magic and completed schoolwork. But as hard as Minerva tried, they would not take responsibility for their action. It was like they didn't care. It was like they didn't want to grow up.

She had written to their parents, and though both couples promised a talking-to, neither Potter nor Black changed. If anything, they grew more reckless, as if to prove they were not threatened by their superiors' authority. She had even spoken to Dumbledore about it, but when the man had cryptically suggested they needed to be given more responsibilities, she had quickly shut down the idea. No matter how brilliant the Headmaster was, Minerva could only recoil at the idea of Potter and Black with more responsibilities. More responsibilities, imagine that? The thought practically gave her dragon pox.

Despite her doubts that they should advance to their sixth years, their grades were good enough and she allowed them to advance. She could not hold them back based on behavior, anyway; there were no rules in Hogwarts for extended behavior infractions, unless they expressly violated the lives of other students. Potter and Black were smarter than that. They were too smart for their own good.

It was a Tuesday morning in the beginning of November when her long-awaited retribution began. She had spent the entire morning trying to teach her seventh year N.E.W.T. students to transfigure mature rabbits into baby dolls. The transfiguration was complex and difficult, one of the most difficult that she taught, but Minerva looked forward to it every year. It marked a large step for future N.E.W.T. students; most students struggled with the age gap, others with the size of the objects, still others with transforming a living thing into an inanimate object, but when they accomplished the transformation, it gave Minerva the confidence that they would continue to succeed. That wasn't to say that the lesson was learned in a week, or even two. It took much longer than that, and cauldrons of patience. The latter was something she needed right now.

"Mr. Wilkes," Minerva interrupted as she noticed the Slytherin student jabbing his wand into his rabbit's side, his face narrowed in frustration. "Please refrain from harassing your rabbit. It is not a pincushion."

She did not wait to observe his sour look, instead continuing her walk along the tables as she surveyed her students. Nearly all wore expressions of intense concentration, but none had yet completely mastered the transformation. The farthest the class had gotten so far had been with a rabbit-eared baby doll, which, though encouraging, was still not as far as she would have like to have been by now.

"Miss Vance," she said as she passed by a young Ravenclaw and a hairy, morbid, half-cross lying on her table. "You need to clear off all of the fur before you attempt to alter the shape." She waved her wand, and a tawny rabbit appeared on the girl's desk.

Vance looked up at her in exasperation, to which Minerva replied with a stern look. It was just about the end of the period, and Emmeline Vance, like many of the others, was quickly becoming frustrated with the lack of progress. But Minerva knew from numerous years of teaching that continuing to try was the only way they would succeed. And that was not just a lesson needed in Transfiguration.

She soon became aware of nagging whispers behind her, and turned to see Bertram Aubrey and Moran Fletchley leaning in towards each other, talking rapidly and shooting glares at Alice Bigelow, a Slytherin girl sitting a few rows up. Minerva knew Horace Slughorn had just sorted out a large fight between the three, and suspected that Aubrey and Fletchley were up to no good.

"Gentlemen, do you have something you would like to share with the class?" she asked them, fixing them with a look. They both looked up and paled. The rest of the class turned in their seats to look at them, including Bigelow, who glared at both. "Aubrey?" Minerva prompted.

"No, Professor," Avery mumbled.

"Then return to your rabbits," she said. "Perhaps if you were paying attention to classwork, you would not need to be told that your rabbit prefers a cotton diet."

Avery pulled his arm away from his rabbit, and sure enough a hole had been nibbled in his sleeve. His face dropped in anger, but before Minerva could cut across what she knew would be words of frustration, a sudden wail resounded through the classroom.

"GRAARGH!" shouted one of the Ravenclaw boys in the front, as he stood abruptly in his chair. Minerva glanced over in shock, but she only had a glimpse of something squirming on Belby's desk before the other Ravenclaws beside him quickly came over to look.

"Ew, ew, ew! Is it alive?"

"Ugh, that's freaky!"

Minerva hustled them out of the way, and when they cleared she was able to locate Belby's transfiguration attempt squirming on the desk. It had features like a baby doll, but was breathing. Belby had not successfully managed to convert his object from being to inanimate, and so the object had the characteristics of a living baby doll. Rather unsettling, and extraordinarily like a human child, except less appealing.

"Ugh, it's alive!" shrieked one of the Ravenclaw girls as the baby doll—rabbit-baby—thing began to wail again.

"Kindly retain a calm manner, Miss Lawrence," snapped Minerva, though she waved her wand to silence the disturbing object. Meanwhile, the Slytherins from the back of the room drew up to join the Ravenclaws at Belby's desk. They began pressing the crowd, eliciting a few rude words from the Ravenclaws that Minerva chose to ignore. "Mr. Belby," she said loudly over the growing chatter. "Would you care to explain to the class what was wrong with your transfiguration?"

Belby looked a little gray as he watched the thing squirm on his desk. "I, um…"

The thing opened its mouth to let out a silent wail, and the class erupted into more cries of disgust. Lawrence let out another shriek.

"Miss Lawrence!" snapped Minerva, but when the class didn't seem to want to settle, she called, "Silence."

They stopped talking, but the uncomfortable glances towards the silently screaming baby did not stop.

"Mr. Belby."

His eyes did not leave his transfigured objected as he answered, "I, um, I didn't alter its inanimate state first."

"That is correct, Mr. Belby," Minerva said, but when she soon realized she had lost the complete attention of the class—they seemed way too distracted by the excitement of it all and the approaching end of the period—she saved her lengthier explanation for later. "The rest of the class will care to take note of this. It was a good start, Mr. Belby. Five points to Ravenclaw."

Belby and the other Ravenclaws did not seem particularly thrilled with their points; they only continued to chatter amongst themselves as they stared at the disturbing partial transfiguration. One of the students reached out to poke it, but Minerva interrupted him before he could.

"That's enough, Mr. McKillan," she said sharply, and the student quickly withdrew his hand. To the class, she instructed, "Return your transfigured objects to their appropriate cages, and you are dismissed. I want three feet of parchment next class on the correct order of this particular transfiguration."

The students scattered, each returning to their desks to retrieve their transfiguration attempts and put them back in their cages. Minerva soon became aware that Belby was reaching for his own transfigured object, but she stopped him before he could pick it up.

"I will take care of it, Belby," she said. A look of relief spread across the boy's face. He had always had a weak stomach for those sorts of things. "Head to Potions now or Professor Slughorn will take points."

He didn't protest, just thanked her and quickly gathered up his books before he and his friends left the classroom. After all the students had cleared out, Minerva turned back to the half-transfigured object. It was disturbing, certainly, and she somehow didn't think it was appropriate to put it back in a cage, being so like a human baby. With a wave of her wand, she transfigured it back into a rabbit, and then placed it safely in with the other rabbits. It was a start, she supposed, but still not where she'd wanted her Transfiguration class to be.

"And lay it sideways!" James Potter hissed at Sirius Black. "It won't fit in otherwise."

"Oh Merlin," Sirius whispered, levitating the sleeping lion so it would fit in the broom closet. "This is gonna be brilliant."

James grinned in anticipation. It had been a lot of work, transfiguring Mr. Filtch's cat into a lion, but he knew it would be worth it. When it awoke in ten minutes' time, all the Houses would be in for dinner, and the Slytherins would receive a pleasant surprise. They had bewitched the cat to chase after anybody wearing green.

Remus standing nearby, watching them doubtfully and glancing every other minute down the deserted hallway. He shifted uncomfortably as he watched Sirius take out his wand and put the final touches on the paint on the lion's side. It read Go Gryffindor in large red letters. "I'm not so sure-"

Sirius cut him off with a sharp, "Oh, sod off, Moony. Stop worrying about everything."

"It's pretty obvious that we're behind this-"

"Moony, no one's going to figure it out."

"It says 'Go Gryffindor'. I'd say that at least narrows the field of suspicion. Plus after the firewhisky incident last week…"

"Hmm," Sirius said. He stood to survey the letters on the lion's flank. "Well, it took too long. We're not changing it now."

Remus looked extremely uncomfortable. "I'm a prefect…"

James reached forward to adjust the lion's mane. "No, really, we hadn't figured that out."

Remus shifted and glanced down the hallway again. "You don't understand. I could get in huge trouble for this…"

His discomfort increased when Sirius and James didn't seem to be paying him any notice. They simply continued their work.

"Professor McGonagall specifically said-"

"No offense, Moony, but we don't give a shit," Sirius said. "We're not taking off the letters."

"Yeah, they look too good anyway," said James. "All I have to say is that this charm better work. We've spent way too long on this gig. I don't think I've even started my Charms essay…"

Remus groaned.

"Hmm," said Sirius, frowning at the speckles on the lion's side.

"Or my transfiguration essay, for that matter."

"Is that a transfiguration error or do some lions have spots?"

"Huh? Oh, I dunno," said James. He looked over at the short, blond boy standing beside Remus. "Pete, the tie."

Peter Pettigrew handed him a red and gold striped Gryffindor tie.

"Dear Merlin," Remus groaned as James fixed it on the lion's head.

"If this doesn't work, we should make a run for it," Sirius said.

James sniggered. "From McGonagall or from Filch?"

"Or the lion," Sirius said, grinning.

"You think the cat would go after us?" Peter asked worriedly.

"Nah," said James.

"Even if we get detention, it'll be worth it. This is Gryffindor Quidditch pride we're talking about," said Sirius. He straightened and backed away. The cat—or lion, rather—looked peaceful lying there on the closet floor, but James knew looks could be deceiving. It would be awake in only a few minutes.

Sirius made a move to close the door, but James' shoe shot out to stop it.

"Wait, his tail!" James said. He reached in to toss the lion's tail out of the way. "Okay, there. Don't close it all the way or he might not be able to get out."

Sirius closed the door most of the way, and when they were certain that the lion would be able to easily open the door when it woke, he turned away, grinning madly.

This was going to be a good one; he knew it.

James felt his muscles bunch with energy, and he punched Remus in the shoulder to release some.

"Merlin's balls," he said as they headed towards the Great Hall. "This is going to be brilliant."

Sirius grinned widely. "I can't wait to see the look on the Slytherins' faces."

"I know," said James. "Serves them right for jinxing us."

"James," Remus said suddenly, his eyes fixed on a point near the entrance to the Great Hall, where a stern-looking witch in tartan robes was standing there, waiting for them.

"Right on to up the Gryffindor pride!" said Sirius.

"Maybe we should set him loose on the Quidditch field too!" James said. "Can you imagine?"

"James," Remus said warningly, nudging James in the shoulder. "Sirius, stop."

"I think Talkalot would flip!" said Sirius.

"Not as much as Vanity would have!" said James. "Ah, it's a shame she left! Remember her face when we pulled that aging charm?"

"Guys," Remus hissed. "Guys, McGonagall!"

"She looked like she had been shagged upside down-!"

"Sirius, James, shhh-"

"That girl had about as much control over her Quidditch team than you did with that muggle girl… oh, what was her name…?"

"If you're referring to Melinda, I deny ever loosing control-"

"Shh-!"

"Really? I heard she shagged you so hard that you couldn't walk the next day."

"Guys-"

"She did not!"

"Well, it was your first time, Padfoot-"

"It was the other way around! She was getting so randy she was practically begging me to shag her-"

"Mr. Black!"

Sirius' head snapped up, and James coughed.

"Shit," muttered Sirius. Both turned around to see Minerva McGonagall scowling at them.

"Mr. Black, I would hope by your sixth year of Hogwarts that you would have something more original to talk about," she said, and James stifled a snicker. McGonagall shot him a look. "Black, Potter. I would like a word. Lupin, Pettigrew, please excuse your friends for a moment."

Remus and Peter looked extremely uncomfortable, both knowing what was lying ahead, but they did not question McGonagall's instructions. They passed them sympathetic glances, and both slipped into the Great Hall, leaving Sirius and James behind.

"Well, Professor," said James, giving her a lopsided grin. "I assume you're going to congratulate me on Gryffindor's recent win over Hufflepuff-"

"On the contrary, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, looking severe over the rims of her glasses. Her lips were straight and firm, and they did not even twitch in amusement; whatever they had done had made her very displeased. "I am not here to further inflate your opinions of yourself. I think you'll soon find that the world around you is larger than your performance on the pitch."

Sirius frowned, and though it looked as though he might open his mouth, a firm look from McGonagall effectively silenced him. He winked at her instead.

"It has come to my attention a few moments ago when sorting sixth year papers that both your essays are, once again, absent," she told them, coolly. "I'm here to warn the both of you that if either of you fails to turn in another one of my essays, I will be forced to dismiss you from my class."

James stared at her. Sure, she'd docked points and put them in detention before, but she'd never made such a severe threat. "We both got outstanding on our O.W.L.s"

McGonagall's gaze hardened. "O.W.L. grades regardless, Mr. Potter."

Sirius shook his head and grinned. "We're your best students!"

McGonagall's brows rose dangerously high. "Mr. Black," she began, her nostrils flaring. "Do not be so entitled to think that your performance on the O.W.L.s, however respectable, will excuse you from the demands of my class. I require satisfactory performance from all of my students, and if you fail to meet these standards, as you repeatedly have, I will be forced to dismiss you."

"Oh, Professor…" began James with a smirk.

"Potter, I don't with to hear excuses," said McGonagall. "The wizarding world does not revolve around your whims."

"Professor, you not going to dismiss us," James scoffed.

"When even was the essay due?" Sirius asked her.

McGonagall's brows rose higher. "Monday, Black."

Monday? Wait, wasn't it due Wednesday?

Sirius snorted. "It's only a day late-"

"As I recall, Black, all students are expected to abide by classroom rules. I assure you, your high opinion of yourself does not excuse you from the rules implemented on your peers."

"Professor," Sirius said, with a dismissive gesture. "Wouldn't you say that this is slightly ridiculous?"

"I assure you, I am taking this all very seriously," McGonagall told them, her lips hard. "This is only a warning, but I assure the both of you that if you do not start taking responsibility for your actions, I will be forced to follow through."

"We're your best students!" James scoffed. "You wouldn't dismiss us-"

It was the wrong thing to say. "Mr. Potter," McGonagall snapped, and both James and Sirius recoiled as her voice began to rise and her Scottish accent began to emerge. "Your ignorance is astounding, but as sure as Merlin is-"

A sudden roar from down the hallway drowned out the latter portion of her sentence, and James and Sirius froze. Then, as a second roar echoed down the hallway, they shared a gleeful look. Their prank was going as planned!

Well, technically, the lion was not supposed to regain consciousness yet; the spell was supposed to hold out for a full forty minutes, in which James and Sirius would have taken shelter amongst the Gryffindor table. Instead, it had been thirty-five. But neither bothered too much. At least it was working.

James could not help it; he and Sirius began to snicker. What a shock the Slytherins would soon receive. "And Gryffindor scores!" he whispered to Sirius, and the two chuckled harder.

McGonagall's furious gaze swung toward them, and James felt a very brief urge to run far away. She seemed to know exactly what was going on here. James half-expected her to disintegrate them on the spot, but when she opened her mouth, she didn't even yell. Her voice was low and controlled, but James knew it would combust if she was pushed much further.

"Would either of you care to explain the origins of that noise?"

Sirius and James stifled smirks.

"An escaped manticore?" Sirius offered.

"Nothing to do with us?" James suggested.

Suddenly, there was a screech from farther down the hallway, and a Slytherin fifth-year came running into the Great Hall, a giant lion on his tail. Go Gryffindor flashed in gold and red on the lion's flank.

"My office," snapped McGonagall as she hustled off after the Slytherin. "Now."

It took McGonagall fifteen minutes to sort out the complex animal transfiguration and care for the terrified Slytherins. By the time she reached her office, Sirius and James had been sitting there in the chairs before her desk for twenty minutes, laughing about what must be going downstairs and scheming about how they would worm out of this one. When the slammed door signaled her return, however, they immediately quieted. Though they were having fun, they knew she wasn't. And when McGonagall wasn't having fun, it was better for everyone to tune things down a bit. So instead they still watched her with identical grins, trying to loosen her stony expression.

She seated herself behind her desk, and only then did she look at them. Her gaze was severe and cold. When the silence extended uncomfortably and her gaze did not break, Sirius winked at her. McGonagall's lips didn't even twitch. When she spoke, her voice was terrible.

"Did you or did you not transfigure Mr. Filtch's cat into that lion?"

"Did you like it?" James asked her.

"It's for the coming Quidditch match," said Sirius.

"It took us an age to get the lettering right."

McGonagall looked dangerous. "Four Slytherins," she said. "I sent four Slytherins to the Hospital Wing. And two Hufflepuffs."

"Merlin," said Sirius. "Only four."

"They could have been seriously injured," she snapped. "Of all the utterly senseless things to do-"

"Professor, the transfiguration was genius!" said James. "Did you notice? That's N.E.W.T. level work-"

"Potter," McGonagall snapped. "Be silent, for once, and recognize the seriousness of this situation. They could have been mauled. Do you not understand the severity-"

"Professor, honestly, no one was hurt," said Sirius. "It was a joke. We had fun."

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "Do the both of you not understand that this little prank of yours could have hurt others?" she barked. "When have either of you looked beyond yourselves and your friends and taken others' well-beings into account?"

Sirius and James fell into a silence, glancing at one another. Neither of them knew what to say to that.

"There is a line between innocent fun and dangerous fun, and you both have crossed it this morning," snapped McGonagall.

"Honestly, Professor, it wasn't that big of a deal," James said, trying to brush off her serious words.

"You never stop to consider the consequences of your actions," McGonagall snapped. "This is a continual cause for concern among the staff of this institution. If you continue to fail to learn this lesson, I'm afraid that you will go out into the wizarding world and suffer many disappointments."

"Professor…" began Sirius, with a small smirk.

"I don't want to hear it, Black," snapped McGonagall. "It's time the both of you learned a bit of responsibility. It's time the both of you learned how to look after someone else's needs."

"Professor-"

"Forty points will be taken from Gryffindor," said McGonagall.

Sirius and James frowned. Both of them knew that that wasn't bad at all, considering how upset she seemed.

"We get detention?" Sirius asked her.

McGonagall smiled thinly. "A week," she said. "Nine o'clock each evening, starting tomorrow. I will add on a day for each time you come late."

James' jaw dropped. A week? He had arranged a whole set of Quidditch strategy practices in those evenings. "It's Quidditch season, Professor-"

"Then I suppose you'll have to cope, Potter," she snapped.

"But I'm captain, I can't miss-"

"I haven't forgotten, Potter," she said. "I'm not changing my mind. The team will have to cope without you."

James might have argued with her, but one sharp glance was enough to make his jaw clamp closed. It was no use. Arguing would only make things worse.

"And there's another part of this," McGonagall told them.

"Another-"

McGonagall interrupted Sirius' protest by standing abruptly and making her way over to where there were cages of rabbits. She removed one of the rabbits and set it on the desk before her. James and Sirius stared at it for a moment, wondering if she had gone off her rocker, but soon, McGonagall waved her wand. The rabbit disappeared, and in its place was a crying object. It squirmed on her desk, its feet and chubby hands waving in the air…

"Is that… is that a baby?" asked Sirius, looking horrified.

"You are close, Mr. Black," McGonagall said, raising an eyebrow. "It is, technically, a baby doll. Although you will find that it has a physical appearance and mannerisms of a human child, and requires care just as any human being."

Sirius stared at the baby, mouth open. "That's disturbing."

McGonagall just pursed her lips. She waved her wand again, and a pair of pajamas appeared on the child. "Since the both of you seem to be lacking some vital qualities such as selflessness and responsibility, I believe it's about time that you learned some."

James stared at the baby. No, no, no. He knew where McGonagall's mind was going, and he didn't like it one bit.

"You will be caring for this baby for a month," she told them. "You will take it to class with you, feed it, change its nappy, care for it as you would a child. If the baby is healthy and content by the end of the month, you two will be off the hook. If not, then I'm afraid that I will have to find other methods of punishment, including possible expulsion from Quidditch and release of Hogsmeade privilege. Do not attempt to transfigure the baby back into something more manageable. It will not work, and I will know."

They could barely understand her words. They simply stared at the baby in shock. How could they even expect to care for it? They couldn't very well put it under their beds for a month! McGonagall would find out and James couldn't even bear the thought of missing out on the Quidditch season, not when their team was so promising!

"Congratulations," McGonagall told them with a humorless smile. She handed the child out for Sirius to take. "It's a boy."