Thanks a million to everyone who reviewed last week: SporkGirl, NightShade, Chocolate369, wolfstreak (wow, i'm surprised someone noticed, haha), CoolFanfictionLover, and gunsnroses007 .nj. Thanks so much for your support and enjoy this final chapter! Love you guys!

Chapter Six: Insufferable, Inseparable, Impish

The punishment had done them some good.

Minerva watched Potter and Black filter into her classroom with their limpet in tow. It had been four weeks since the boys had been given the transfiguration mishap, and the two of them looked like naturals. They had their bag of toys on an arm, their food stash on another, the baby balanced on a hip, bookbags over their shoulders, and they still managed to jinx Marcus Grenly's hair pink when the Ravenclaw had turned his back. All in all, they looked like they had been doing this for a long time.

That wasn't to say that they wouldn't slip up now and then—have to take the child out of the classroom, have to call their house-elf friend with a desperate request—but what was different now were their actions. Their attitudes were the same—Minerva was not certain that would ever change—but it was their treatment of their responsibilities that was different.

After the first two slips of detention, the two managed to remember to attend every single one following. They continued attending classes, perfected keeping the child quietly contained during lecture and safely entertained during spell practice, and still managed to get superior grades in all classes aforementioned. Potter even managed to uphold his duties as Quiddich captain. The staff's complaints of class disruption went down after the first week, and though the kitchen reported numerous breaches and severely diminished food supplies, Minerva excused it when she saw how the boys were turning mistakes into lessons and growing proficient with their responsibility. The baby was healthy, entertained, and happy, and Potter and Black were treating him as simply an addition to their routines. They had managed to accept the responsibility and move on to balance the other parts of their lives. They had accepted the responsibility and grown from it.

And of that, Minerva was proud. Very proud indeed.

Though she was becoming annoyed with the number of quasi-enlightened individuals congratulating her on the prodigious talents of her "nephew". She had lost count of the number of well-wishers who looked upon enlightenment as if a kneazle had swallowed their tongue… She supposed it was a lesson in telling tales, if nothing else. After all, there was nothing like the manticore getting a taste of its own stinger.

She watched Potter and Black set themselves up in their customary classroom seats, way in the back. Although their friends Pettigrew and Lupin preferred to sit a bit further up, the two boys seemed to enjoy the certain advantages that came with the full visual scope of their classmates. Minerva knew that both enjoyed pranking from back there, where they believed there was no one who could see it coming. Except Minerva, of course, who was able to identify a Marauder prank when she saw one.

They seated themselves and spread their bags and the baby over their desk, taking care to cast their customary protective charms over the floor and desk, and placed the baby via sticking spell on Sirius' transfigured bag. This had been their pattern for the past four weeks, and though Minerva's appreciation of their transfiguration talents had long faded, her amazement at their continual care had not.

She didn't know if this was another side of them she was seeing, but she was impressed. The care they had shown had brightened her opinion of the boys.

And she was not the only one.

She had noticed the increased number of heads turning now when Potter and Black were near. Professors, students, classmates… all seemed to regard the two Gryffindors differently now, as less of public menaces and more of fun-loving pranksters.

There had also been a particular increase in the number of female admirers over the past few weeks—well, and male admirers, for that matter. Though Black and Potter had never usually been without their aficionados in all their time at Hogwarts, Minerva noticed there had been a direct increase since the baby's introduction… due either to an altered perception of the troublemakers, an increased appreciation of a baby in Potter's Quidditch-sculpted arms, or a newfound courage old admirers had summoned up under the pretext of friendly inquiry. Minerva was not sure, but either way, the Marauders were now—more than ever—the buzz of the school. Their attention was in demand like never before. Watching it was like watching Potions students vying for a vial of liquid luck, except that the vial of liquid luck didn't give a damn who it was bestowed upon, as long as it was esteemed and its Quidditch drills were taken seriously.

Sure enough, Minerva could see eyes turning as the boys seated themselves. Rose Xavier looked positively breathless. And Ernie Posvar… yes, there was his usual blush. In the recent days, the most interesting development was among the young Gryffindor ladies. Marlene McKinnon was not known to be one who closely guarded secrets, and Minerva noticed that lately she had become a particular tease to her friend Lily Evans, especially whenever a certain Quidditch captain was nearby. The development was interesting to Minerva—she had seen the way Potter gawked at the girl over the past six years; how he had pulled her ponytails and jinxed her and stared helplessly in her direction each time she walked by, wishing he could find a way to connect. Now that those feelings had begun to be reciprocated… well, Minerva supposed things were about to become interesting. If Potter caught on to Evans' feelings, that was. The boy was a bit daft when it came to reading others. She suspected it had something to do with one too many bludgers to the head.

Not that she could say the same about Remus Lupin. He had caught on to the Miss Evans' development, that was for sure. He and Pettigrew had both seemed to read the glances Lily Evans was passing in Potter's direction, and were amused enough by the latter's ignorance to keep silent on the matter. They were smirking at each other at the moment, both calm and collected—and vastly entertained—sitting a few rows up from their other Marauder half. Minerva had noticed a change in Lupin and Pettigrew as well over the past month. Lupin and Pettigrew, though Lupin especially, were looking brighter and more laid back than they had three weeks ago, when black circles and rumpled clothes had been a daily occurrence. Though Minerva had no way to prove it, she suspected that Lupin and Pettigrew had put up with more than early-morning wakeups. She was relieved to see that that had changed after the past few weeks. Otherwise, she would've had to have a major talking-to with Potter and Black…

The class was just settling, and Minerva drew her thoughts away from the Marauders to tap her wand to the blackboard. Today she'd be teaching them bird-conjuring charms. It was near N.E.W.T. level material, and she suspected they'd have a couple of disasters before the end of the class. It'd certainly be an interesting lesson. She'd better begin, so they could get as much practice in as they could. The incantation Avis traced itself on the board, and Minerva began.

Through the class period, as she continued lecturing, she was amused to observe the activity in the back of the classroom among Black and Potter. Toy hippogriffs were being hurled, boxes upturned, cushions abused…

And yet no one in front was noticing. The number of silencing, recalling, and padding charms the two had cast were restricting the disasters to a contained area, allowing the class to remain peacefully ignorant as silent chaos unfolded behind them. From Minerva's perspective, the scene had a strangely boxed feel, similar to one of those old silent muggle comedies. Merlin, it was like a scene straight from one, and Black and Potter were the characters frantically struggling to keep a brimming disaster from being noticed by the blissful majority.

Minerva forced herself to retain a closed expression, though she could feel her amusement bubbling. She would have to speak with Potter and Black after class. She thought it was due time that their punishment was lifted; they had learned their lesson. It seemed Dumbledore was right all along—adding responsibility to their lives had done the trick.

There was a collective sigh as Minerva put an end to the lesson for the day. She had had enough explosions for the day, and, as it seemed, so had her students. The sixth years immediately set down their wands and practically catapulted themselves over their desks to gather their books. Minerva tried to impart them with last instructions for their upcoming essay, but soon the growing rustling proved too much for her to speak over, and she settled for letting it be. Instead, she quickly scanned her students' heads to try to locate Black and Potter before they fled the classroom.

She located Potter's hair near the back of the classroom, and when the students had parted to give her a full view, she saw that they had just finished removing their charms and were now shoving everything back into their bags. Minerva raised her voice to draw their attention over chatter of students around them. "Potter, Black!"

The two glanced up midway through shoving what looked like a garden gnome into their bag. They had to have cast an undetectable expansion charm on their bags—there was no way that all of that stuff could fit in there otherwise.

"If I could see the both of you," she told them.

She saw them pass each other dubious looks, but they quickly collected the rest of their things and began moving upstream towards Minerva's desk. Minerva could see Potter's eyes darting to Evans' form across the classroom as they approached; he seemed disappointed that he would not have the chance to approach her. The girls seemed to be moving slower than usual, which would have given Potter a nice opportunity; they were clumsily assembling their belongings, and though their gracelessness could have been attributed to McKinnon's bag spill, Minerva suspected that Evans was drawing out her time. The girl had behaved rather oddly all class—from explosions to accidental stinging hexes—and all attributed solely to the fact that Miss Evans could not concentrate on the work in front of her. No, her eyes had certainly been fixed elsewhere.

"Professor?" Black asked her expectantly when they had finally reached her desk. Potter promptly ruffled his hair, as if to put thoughts of Evans behind him.

Minerva took time to straighten her desk papers, formulating her words. The rest of the class was thinning by now, and she was relieved that she no longer would have to raise her voice to address them. "Yes, Black, Potter-"

The baby squirmed in Black's arms, whining to be set down. It looked like a tantrum was imminent. Minerva could see his eyes screwing shut, his chin twisting. But just as the baby opened his mouth to draw a gusty breath, Potter promptly stuck a pacifier between his lips. The baby's eyes grew wide, and Potter and Black looked expectantly at Minerva. The baby blinked a few times to shake off his surprise, but there was no explosion as he began chewing on his pacifier. Minerva blinked a few times, taken aback by the adept avoidance of the tantrum and the normalcy with which Potter and Black were watching her. Her train of thought momentarily vanished from her mind.

"I—I think I have been rather harsh on the both of you this past month," she continued when she had recovered it, "keeping you in from your nighttime activities, burdening you prematurely with the responsibility of a child—"

"Professor," Black said, aghast, "We've enjoyed every moment spent with you."

Minerva had to applaud his consistent application of humor to any situation. "I could reply the same, Black," she replied dryly. "Especially because it means less cigarette smoke in the dormitories and fewer jinxes to right."

Black just winked, and though the action seemed to consistently unsettle other professors, Minerva wasn't fazed. She hadn't expected him to be intimidated—it took a much heavier threat for either to grow concerned. And she was much too used to this treatment from them.

"I feel that it's time to lift your punishment—"

"Thank Merlin," Potter breathed.

"Great Agrippa," Black praised.

The look of relief on their faces was highly amusing, but Minerva knew she could not tolerate their interruption. She fixed them with a stern look. "—And allow you to resume your normal routines."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Evans and McKinnon, now the last students to leave, exit slowly from the classroom. Evans gave one last glance at Potter's back before she left, and Minerva stored it in the back of her mind for the time being. These were interesting developments, interesting indeed.

With Evans and McKinnon out of the classroom, she could now speak openly. "Although I remain wary of your attitude towards this school and its students, I do feel that you have learned some responsibility from this exercise—"

"Certainly," said Potter.

"We're now fully equipped to deal with childcare," Sirius informed her, shifting the baby on his hip.

Minerva wondered suddenly if it had been a mistake to entrust them with a baby, of all things. She hoped that they had not grown too attached to the thing this whole while—it was, after all, a partially transfigured rabbit. "I do hope you won't be terribly broken to part with it."

"Him," Potter corrected her. "And we've named him Quaffie."

Quaffie? "At least it's not Celestina," Minerva commented dryly. Somehow, a good portion of the professors in the break room had come under the impression that the baby had been named after the ear-grating pop diva. Minerva knew she didn't have to look far for the source of that rumor.

"It's short for Quaffle," Potter informed her with a wink. "He's our Quidditch charm."

Who had come up with such an abysmally unoriginal name as Quaffie? Minerva considered inquiring further, but she was certain that that twitch in Potter's cheek meant mischief, and either way she thought it best to retain her measure of growing regard for the two. She raised her brows at Potter, whose irritatingly wide grin didn't falter.

"We haven't named him Quaffie," Black assured her, and Minerva passed him a relieved look. So the future of the wizarding world wasn't at stake. "We haven't really given him a name, to tell the truth," he admitted.

"I should hope that you haven't grown too attached to the thing," she remarked.

Black laughed. "More like fondness, like a pet or something," he said, looking at the baby in his arms. "We reckoned he was happier as a rabbit."

Potter grinned and ruffled his hair. "Think we're just about ready to let him go," he told her. "We're kind of tired of all the nappy changes."

"We reckon he's in your hands now," Black said, a crooked smile putting dimples in his cheeks. "He's your nephew, after all."

"Yes," said Minerva wryly. "I suppose he is. I've heard the most interesting things over the past month."

"Only the best, for our favorite professor," Potter told her, grinning. That boy had a lot of teeth, and though Minerva was quite certain his charm did not work on her, the twitch of her cheek betrayed her amusement.

She flicked her wand at her second-years' essays on her desk, and they assembled into a neat pile. Then, approaching Black and motioning for the child, she lifted the baby from Black's arms and set it on her desk.

"I think it's about time this rabbit returns to its natural state, don't you?" she asked them, and the boys both grinned at her.

Minerva removed the anti-transfiguratory charms she had placed on the rabbit and reversed the transfiguration incantation. With a whirl of brown and black, the baby's forelimbs shrunk and its legs thickened. Brown and black fur sprouted over its body, and where its ears had been stretched two fuzzy ears. Its nose scrunched, whiskers twitching as it scouted its surroundings. The poor thing was still clothed in pajamas.

"Quaffie," Potter said affectionately.

Minerva vanished the pajamas. "Much better, I think." She picked up the furry animal, which squirmed a bit in her hands, and lifted it back to the cage with its fellow rabbits.

"We'll have to come visit him every day," Black told her when she had secured the cage. The rabbit looked happy inside, as all of the other rabbits scampered to greet him. "And see you too of course, dear Professor. You'll both probably get lonely without us in detention all the time."

Minerva hid a hint of a smile as she restacked her second-years' essays. "Even more so if you turned in your Transfiguration homework on time," she informed him dryly.

"Professor," Potter said fondly. "We always knew you cared."

"Don't you both have somewhere to be?" she asked them. Another professor was due to be graced by their presence. "Potions, perhaps?"

Black waved his hand dismissively. "Slughorn doesn't mind if we're late."

Minerva fixed him with a look. This was the type of behavior she didn't encourage. "Shall I assign you another week of detention?" she threatened.

"On second thought," said Black to Potter, "we'd better head over, Prongs."

"Was just thinking that," said Potter.

Minerva shook her head in exasperation, though another unbidden twitch disturbed the corner of her lip. "Move along, then," she told them.

Black passed a final wink towards Minerva, and then the boys shouldered their bags and headed back through the desk rows. They were almost through the door when Minerva called, "Potter?"

Both turned, and Minerva fixed Potter with a knowing look and a small smile before telling him mystically, "Spare Miss Evans a moment or two? She seemed to be having difficulty with the summoning charm."

Potter looked confused for a moment, but he graced her with a smile as he replied, "Sure, Professor."

She nodded her approval, and, as the boys turned and continued their way from the classroom, she watched them go. She could remember their first years at Hogwarts—two youngsters speeding through the halls and levitating Pomona's puffapods over unsuspecting victims. They were almost grown up now—certainly taller than she was now—and it was strange to think that they had only one year before they would fully enter the wizarding world. She didn't know how she would fill her days without their mishaps to sort, and she had to admit that somewhere—deep, deep inside of her—she appreciated the humor they brought to the school, the intelligence they brought to their studies, the amusement they brought to her days… Perhaps she was fonder of the two than she liked to admit.

The boys reached the door of her classroom and Minerva caught the last piece of their conversation as they pulled open the large wooden door and made their way out.

"What'dya say, Prongs?"

And the familiar chorus:

"Mischief Managed."

Hey guys! Thanks so much for all your support! Of course, special thanks goes to my beta, TheGraySpecies. She's been fantastic through this whole process. Thanks for being that second pair of eyes and putting up with my craziness!

Please review this final chapter and let me know what you think (that means you, my beloved lurkers). Stay in touch for future stories by following me, and check my profile for information on future stories. Best wishes, SphinxScribe.