hiiiiii i'm gonna share a little pointless scene that ultimately got cut from 'touch and go' but i still love because i just adore james and mcgonagall
James jolts, though his body barely seems to follow the command. His cheek is still pressed awkwardly to the wood of the desk, one arm folded beneath his head, the other dangling uselessly at his side.
“Wha—?!” he manages, dragging himself up with effort that feels disproportionate to the act, prying his eyes open. His temple throbs where his glasses have been digging in at an angle.
Professor McGonagall swims slowly into focus across from him, her mouth set into a thin, unimpressed line.
“Really, Potter,” she says, voice sharp with disapproval, “I leave you alone for twenty minutes and this is how you choose to use your reading time?” She gives a small, disdainful tut. “We may be in a magical school, but books do not, in fact, read themselves.”
He pulls his glasses off, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye, trying to scrub away the fog of sleep still clinging to him. “Sorry, Professor,” he manages, his voice sounding scratchy. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was—” He glances down at the open text in front of him, the words swimming uselessly. “I was reading Hauser, and…” His shoulders drop, resignation settling in. “I really am sorry.”
“I haven’t invited a student to complete independent study with me in more than a decade, Potter.”
“I know,” he says quietly, guilt settling heavier in his chest.
“I do not enjoy wasting my time.”
“If I give you a task, I expect you to complete it,” she continues, each word precise. “Your understanding of Transfiguration has already exceeded the limits of our standard coursework, but if you intend to sit here and idle your way through the additional material I have selected—”
“I’m sorry, Professor,” he cuts in, more urgently now, straightening properly in the chair. “It won’t happen again. I swear.”
She studies him then, properly, and the silence stretches just long enough to make him shift in discomfort, already nervous about whatever's she's about to say.
He blinks, caught off guard, and shakes his head quickly. “No, Professor.” He swallows. “I just—I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Have you gone to see Madame Pomfrey?” she asks, brows drawing together faintly. Then, with a slight scoff, “Surely your own father could send—”
“He did,” James says, a little too quickly. “It’s just… it doesn’t help much.”
That isn’t entirely true, and something in her expression suggests she knows it. She watches him for another moment before moving around the desk and taking her seat, folding her hands neatly in front of her.
“If this is all too much…” she begins, tapping her fingers lightly against the wood. “I have been pleased with your captaincy thus far, but you are carrying a significant workload as it is, even without the addition of our sessions together.”
“That’s not it,” he says immediately, sitting forward, more awake now if only out of sheer determination. “I like to stay busy.”
“Hm,” she tuts to herself, watching him over the rim of her glasses. “Very well.” She pushes the book toward him. “I’ll extend our time together today so you can read this.”
He sighs. “I’m grateful for that, but… I’ve got Defence.”
“I’ll send a note to Professor Wiggins excusing you for the day.”
James perks up. “Really? You’d do that?”
“How long will that text take you?”
James looks down. “Twenty minutes or so if I take notes as I read.”
McGonagall seems to think for a moment, then nods, standing back from her seat. “You’ve got two hours.”
James looks up in confusion. “Two hours? But—”
“Read the text first,” she says sharply. “Then, sleep.”
James’s jaw drops to the floor. “Are you…” He looks at her suspiciously. “Are you having me on?”
“It does me no good to have a pupil who can’t keep his head up. Or a Quidditch captain who is at risk of falling off his broom.” She sweeps toward the door. “This is a Transfiguration independent study. I expect you to restore whatever furniture you modify for your sleeping purposes.” She stops, her hand on the door. “And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, Potter… I’ll deny it and spend the rest of our one-on-ones making your life completely miserable.”
James doesn’t doubt that for a moment.
He nods dutifully. “Yes, Professor.”
