A/N: This ties into my story, Daphne Greengrass and the 7th Year From Hell. Rated T for slightly mature themes. Minerva and Severus have a strictly platonic personal/professional relationship. Thank you to an eagle-eyed reviewer (Kelly Chambliss) for pinpointing a flaw in some dialogue--it's been fixed!

1998

Minerva McGonagall opened the door to the chambers for the Aurors. They floated the corpse in front of them.

"Ma'am, we can give you only a few min—"

"In here, please. You will give me my time with him, Jacob. Alone." She reminded him about her request and sod how long she took to say goodbye!

She has known the lead wizard, Jacob Abernathy, since he was a nervous and pimply student back in 1970. And she also knew that he had no love the dead figure Levitated in front of him.

But he was an Auror. And he had a job to do.

Abernathy nodded to his small team and they found a bare table, trying to avoid the grim tableau of casualties of war surrounding them. They placed the body on the table, and with brief, respectful salutes to the stilled forms of Nymphadora Tonks and a few of their brothers and sisters that had fallen, they shut the door behind them.

Minerva pushed the images of the other dead away; the fact that she was now so close to the now harmless shell that was You-Know-Who startled her for a few moments.

But she remained focused on the black-robed corpse, lying on the table.

"We do sort too soon," she whispered, her voice finally cracking.

1972

Minerva had it up to here with Black and Potter's idiotic horseplay. In the middle of her lesson, no less!

She slapped her hand on the desk. "Mister Black! Mister Potter! I don't care that you're Gryffindors. Detention. Tonight. Both of you."

Sirius Black rolled his eyes, and James Potter looked at her, annoyed. In the back of her mind, she thought that one of the best qualities about Gryffindor House was also one of its worst.

Courage.

Of course, there was a difference between pluck and brazen arrogance. Not that Potter or Black had yet learned that important lesson. More often than not, those two little monsters thought they could get away with far too much in her classes because she was Head of their House.

Sitting next to Darius Mulciber was young Severus, who flashed a grin at her for punishing the two boys. She raised a bemused eyebrow; it wasn't the first time that she had garnered respect from a Slytherin.

But perhaps it wasn't entirely surprising. Severus, after all, had an unusual friendship with Lily Evans. And Lily was a Gryffindor.

Maybe there was hope?

Minerva sent back a small smile. Given the growing tensions in the wizarding world, she hoped maybe that small gesture might mean something more for the young Slytherin.

1981

"I do trust him, Minerva."

"Well, that's just wonderful, Albus. Do you want a lemon drop for your impeccable judgment?"

Minerva pinched her eyes; even with them shut, she could feel Dumbledore peer at her with steely, sharp blue. She hated that he knew all, making her feel rather stupid.

She wasn't. She was perfectly secure with her talents, her intellect and her magic.

But insofar as knowing the war, knowing whom to trust, whom the players were, she felt so naïve. As long as she could snap at someone, she felt marginally better.

"I saw his Mark, Albus. He took – the – Mark! For me, there is nothing else that matters! And you're going to allow him to teach at Hogwarts? To be around children?"

"Minerva, it wasn't so long ago that you thought Severus a decent person. That he showed promise."

She pursed her lips together. "A lot can change in nine years."

Dumbledore smiled. "Not as much as you think."

The meeting had ended with Dumbledore's insistence that she shake Severus' hand. Which she did, with tight-lipped indignation and disgust.

Severus merely bowed his head, keeping his hands folded. She noticed he wore black robes with black fabric wound tightly around his arms.

He caught her looking at them. "A problem, Professor?"

"No," she said, her voice steady. "None here."

A few weeks later, she received a note in between her classes. On it was a simple message.

"Not to alarm you, Professor, but I've observed our practice. Slytherin will have your lions for pudding."

There was unfortunate truth to that statement. Seeker Adam Pucey, and Beaters Morgan Bole and Harvey Hall were cutthroat, ruthless in pure Slytherin style.

But that Severus had chosen, of all things, to message her about Quidditch made her draw her lips together to stifle an involuntary laugh.

1995

They were at Grimmauld Place for an Order meeting.

Minerva spied Severus, sitting across the table from her. He looked as though he had just smelled something foul.

She thought it was because Remus Lupin was talking, and Sirius Black was staring arrogantly at him.

She shook her head. Some things will never change.

"Perhaps it would be appropriate to find out more about what You-Know-Who's forces are currently doing, how much they actually know, and what their recruiting capabilities are."

All eyes turned towards Severus.

"Yes, Snivellus. Please enlighten us."

Minerva shut her eyes so no one would see them rolling. She loved Sirius, but he could be such a child.

Severus clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Do you have anything to offer, Black? I wouldn't want to tread on your dangerous missions, sitting here, in your old manor every day, giving your all to the Order."

Sirius pounded his fists on the table; Severus smirked.

"Did I touch a nerve?"

Sirius bolted up from the table. "Are you implying that I'm a coward?!"

"Padfoot, calm down," Remus said, trying to placate his tempestuous friend.

"I'm not going to let Snivellus the Prick make accusations about me! Not after what I've been through in Azkaban." He leaned across the table, jutting his face towards Severus. "Twelve years, you bastard! You wouldn't last one minute in there!"

After the meeting disbanded, Minerva found her colleague standing by himself.

"You shouldn't have pushed him, Severus."

"Black deserved it."

She pressed her mouth into a thin line. "You know about the hell he went through. The things the Dementors made him feel, made him think. Sirius can't change what happened to him, just like he can't change that he's now a prisoner in his own home."

Severus merely looked at her, his face mild, his tone even, but thick with scorn. "There are other prisons, Minerva. Not just Azkaban."

He spun around to Apparate to his next mission before she could respond.

1976

She hated turning her ire onto students in her own House. But there was no excuse. Sirius and James deserved punishment for humiliating Severus Snape, just as Severus deserved punishment for calling Lily that foul word.

Minerva knew she was going to hear excuses and rubbish and whatnot, but regardless of whatever names Sirius, James, Remus and Peter decided to call her in their common room, she had a job to do.

"I derive no satisfaction in punishing all of you!"

"All of us?! But it was Sirius and James who—"

"Enough!" She held up her hand, silencing Peter. The other boys glared at him.

"All four of you will have detention for the remainder of this week. And the next. Every night!"

It may have been excessive, but it was close to the end of term. And all four boys needed to be taught a lesson. At some point, they would have to grow out of this nonsense.

There were shouts of indignant protests. Remus, though, had the decency to look contrite.

"Professor! You weren't there. Snivellus—"

"His proper name is Severus Snape!"

"He called Evans a 'Mudblood'!"

"Before or after Mister Potter started hexing him?"

Her sharp question was met with a weak silence.

"The Head of Slytherin House will punish Severus," Minerva said, knowing full well Professor Melwood Starkey would do no such thing. "I would be far more concerned about your detentions. Oh yes, and twenty points from Gryffindor. Each!"

She scribbled on a piece of parchment. "Take this to Hagrid straightaway. Your first detention will be tonight in the Forbidden Forest."

The boys left her office, grumbling and swearing under their breaths. McGonagall followed them as far as the entrance to the courtyard, making sure they went directly to their punishment.

She stated back to her office when a dark figure, lingering in the shadows, caught her eye.

"Mister Snape?"

Severus glowered at her. She steeled herself.

"Mister Snape, I know what happened after your O.W.L.s. I want to assure you that James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew have been punished."

His face softened, but only barely. "I saw the gems come out of the Gryffindor hourglass." His voice remained as sullen as ever.

"This does not excuse the fact that you used a one of the most despicable, foul words known to wizards. And you called Miss Evans that word when she was trying to help you!"

Severus ducked his head more, hiding behind an oily mass of straight black hair. Minerva thought he saw him blush, but reckoned that she was mistaken.

"You're only concerned about her because she's in your House," he mumbled.

"I'm concerned when any student uses that word against another student, regardless of House. Severus—"

"You're not Professor Starkey! You can't call me that!"

She glared at him. "I can call you whatever I like! Miss Evans did not deserve to be insulted in such a horrific fashion. Just as you did not deserve being hexed by James and Sirius."

There was no mistaking it; this time Severus did blush, and his chin trembled slightly.

"What concerns me is that you think it is acceptable to call people that word." She chanced putting a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it away. "I worry about who's influencing you. I thought you and Lily were friends."

She tried to make her voice softer, but it always managed to sound severe and chiding.

"Were friends. Lil-, I mean Evans and I were friends."

She straightened up. "Well, it's not too late, Severus. Apologize to her."

Severus looked at her for a moment, his small black eyes round. She thought she saw a glimmer. Of hopefulness or—

But it passed. What returned was the glowering expression he had worn earlier. He spun away from her and stalked towards the dungeons.

1993

Minerva and Severus walked through the halls, looking for Sirius Black. The tips of their wands were illuminated; they shushed the indignant portraits that had woken up from their slumber.

"So, Severus, how are Draco Malfoy's injuries? He should be healthy for the first match of the season, I assume?"

She shined her wand on Snape right as he raised his eyebrow. "Always the Gryffindor, Minerva."

"Excuse me?"

"Your . . . subtlety. Or lack thereof."

She pursed her lips together. The only secrets that Severus guarded more than his Death Eater past — or whatever it was that Lily Potter had meant to him — was the strategy of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

He let slip a grunt. " . . . should just let Black have the boy!"

"Severus!"

"Sorry," he replied, clearly not sorry at all. "I didn't realize I had spoken out loud. By the way, is 'Gryffindor' contagious?"

She glared at him. "Harry Potter's been at school for three years—"

"Three years too many!"

"And you tell me, Severus; at what point has Harry ever been anything other than a decent boy?"

He creased his brow. "Knock me over with a feather. The Head of Gryffindor House defends The Chosen One? Are pigs flying?"

"Even when he has caused myself and other professors headaches, he has been nothing but a good student."

"He has Granger to thank for that."

Minerva ignored him. "He doesn't bully others."

"Allow me to celebrate his virtue," he drawled sarcastically.

"And he has kept his head about him, even after seeing horrific things."

Severus paused, swallowing. "Still doesn't change who his father was."

"I'm shocked! Surely you see more of Lily in him than James."

He stayed silent.

"He is every bit his mother's son."

There was a pause. "Only his eyes, Minerva."

She sensed that this might be the right time to try again. "You know, Severus. You and I have been colleagues now for over a decade—"

"Twelve years in September."

"Yes, and if you want to talk about what happened with you and Lily Potter—"

He stared ahead, impassive, his face like a rock. "Children, foolish, stupid children, grow up, Minerva. I am no exception. And neither was Evans."

"Lily Potter."

"Whatever."

She took a deep breath through her nose and continued patrolling the halls with her colleague.

1979

Minerva stared at the wall ahead of her, her hands folded primly in her lap.

If they hadn't been, she was afraid she might punch through the stone walls of her office.

She had hoped it wasn't true, that Alastor or Remus or the Order had made a mistake. But since Dumbledore seemed to already know it, it had to be true. Because in matters like this, Albus Dumbledore's judgment was not to be questioned.

The Death Eaters had recruited a new class of followers, strengthening their numbers several fold.

Among those confirmed—

Darius Mulciber. Benjamin Wilkes. Jonas Avery . . .

And Severus Snape.

"Dammit." She poured herself a small glass of firewhiskey and stood at the window of her office, sipping her drink. Over the past seven years, Minerva thought she had been right on the verge of saving the lad by being a good influence. Someone outside Slytherin (and a Gryffindor, no less!) who did look out for him, or at the very least made sure there was a sense of fair play.

She heard the ice in her glass clink and she smelled the pungent amber liquid as she took another large gulp.

Dumbledore had just left her office. "You mustn't blame yourself, Minerva."

"That's rich, Albus! Coming from you. I'm sure you've been thinking exactly where you went wrong."

He had smiled, although sadly. "You are, as always, perceptive in your observations."

"Do you think he might still be saved?"

He had peered at her over his spectacles. "I hold that hope for any who cross over to the other side. Time shall write that particular story, though."

"And until then?"

"We fight." He had opened the door. "We continue to fight them wherever they wage war on us. And we will do so until we win."

She remembered Albus' parting words as she took another sip. But she simply did not share his same optimism about their former student.

1989

There was a knock on Minerva's office door.

"Come in."

The door opened, practically on its own. McGonagall looked up to see Severus standing, his arms crossed, peering at her.

She sucked in a breath. She knew exactly why he was here, because he had done the exact same thing for the past five years.

"Yes?"

That she drawled like him whenever he was in her vicinity somewhat surprised her. But they had their little back-and-forth, and the drawling and sarcasm was to be expected.

"I was just wondering, Minerva . . ."

Her nostrils flared. "Spit it out, Severus."

"I was wondering whether you knew where the Quidditch Cup was? Presently?"

She dropped her quill and propped her head on her fist, exasperated. "Presently, it's in your office."

"Oh?"

"Where it has been for the past five years."

He grinned smugly. It was the same expression he had a full week after the final game of the term.

For the past five years.

"Yes. Indeed." He reached for the doorknob and shut the door, leaving Minerva wondering just how the hell Gryffindor was going to wipe that smug grin off of his face next year.

1996

"Typical Potter! He says it, so it must be true. Stupid, arrogant brat!"

Minerva pinched her face, puckering like she had just eaten something sour. "I did explain to him that Mister Malfoy had detention with me, so it was impossible for him to have given Miss Bell that cursed necklace."

His pallid complexion grew more and more fiery. "He is a presumptuous toad who delights in nothing more than making foul accusations, torturing my students. And me!"

"Oh yes, Severus. I daresay that the boy's solely preoccupied with making your life a living hell. In between duelling You-Know-Who and his servants!"

He drew his face into a sullen expression, looking away from Minerva's penetrating stare.

"Don't you think this has gone on far too long? Harry is almost of age and you're a grown man. It's foolish to keep this feud going, especially since it's with Harry's father."

"Some wounds do not heal, Minerva."

She clicked her tongue in a scolding manner. "You know," she said in a low voice that could be heard only by him, "you have managed, over these fifteen years, to surprise me."

"Flattered, I'm sure."

"I remember when you were a student here," she said, her voice lighter than it usually was. "I remember thinking to myself how unusual! How promising! Seeing a Slytherin and Gryffindor as the best of friends."

"Spare me the sentiment."

"I don't know what happened between you and Lily. Nor do I know why you assist us in the Order with no questions asked." Minerva continued walking with him. "You and I have worked side-by-side at Hogwarts for fifteen years. I feel I know you better now. You have grown in many ways, Severus. And yet, you remain stagnant in so many others."

He continued walking with her, but in silence. She took it to mean he would not entertain this particular line of conversation any further. When they began discussing Quidditch for the year ("Perhaps a convenient detention for the Chosen One will fix things." "Severus!"), their dialogue flowed with ease and little effort.

But in June the following year, Minerva found herself in Dumbledore's office just after his murder, on the verge of losing it. She felt like she was falling, her mind and her heart careening downwards, emptying her until the only thing that could fill her back up was her despair.

She somehow managed to meet with the Minister and Board of Governors, to field numerous requests for parents to pull their children out of school early, to address the student body about the details of Dumbledore's funeral.

She managed to do her job.

For five minutes the day after his death, she found a quiet corner of the school. She lowered her head and wept, and it surprised her that her tears fell as much for Severus' transgressions as they did for Dumbledore's death.

1997

She was all that stood between the Headmaster's wand and her students.

Hers.

Not his. Never his.

These students, even the ones that followed Carrow and Sev-, the Headmaster, into the darkness, were hers, and she would do whatever it took to protect them.

"Stop this! They are innocent!"

"INNOCENT? I am not – an – idiot, Minerva."

"Don't call me—"

"I – will – call – you – anything – I – damn – well – like! I am the Headmaster here."

The Headmaster stared at her with such rage and hatred. Even in the past, even before he was Hogwarts' Potions Master, Severus never looked at her like this. It shocked her, made her stomach turn and roil with motley emotions—

Mostly sadness and fury at what he had become. How their friendship had become so corrupted and vile. And how nothing from their past seemed to be evident in him any longer.

Quidditch and banter and conversation. Meaningless in a war.

Minerva spied the large sign hanging above the teacher's table. Her thoughts turned away from the Headmaster and she remembered why she had stood up, feeling pride, mingled with fear.

"WE FIGHT FOR HARRY POTTER!!

WE FIGHT FOR DUMBLEDORE!! NOT HIS MURDERER!!

DOWN WITH SNAPE!! DOWN WITH SNAPE!!"

In the face of all the courage, the defiance that her students showed, Minerva found hers.

She knew what she needed to do.

"Then torture me if you must. For allowing that sign to be hung. But do not hurt the children!"

She held her hands up, desperate to quell the outraged throng surrounding them. There was only herself and the Headmaster.

That same smug grin, but one that now chilled her bones, spread across his face. "You tempt me far too much, Minerva!"

"Do it! Strike me down and spare them!"

He raised his wand, his free arm stretched out, his fingers pointed at her. "I've waited a long time for this."

Minerva shut her eyes, remembering the little Slytherin who had smiled at her so long ago, the colleague who had spoken to her about Quidditch work and life, the fellow soldier who worked for the Order and did things no one else could—

The man who had killed Albus Dumbledore.

She heard the intake of breath; she knew he was about to utter the incantation—

"HEADMASTER!"

Minerva's eyes flew open, and she watched in horror as Amycus Carrow flung a bloodied and bruised Terry Boot into the hall, and laying the blame of the sign wholly at his feet.

1996

"Ma'am," the nurse said, peeking into her room, "you have a visitor." Her brow darkened. "You might want to tell him to be a bit nicer to our staff."

Minerva sighed. "Tell Professor Snape to come in please."

He entered the room, looking as bat-like as ever. She fluffed her pillows and drew her blanket up around her dressing gown. She might be in St. Mungo's, but she still had a need for decorum, to preserve her propriety as a mature woman and a professor at Hogwarts.

And she already felt foolish enough that she had allowed Aurors to attack her under Umbridge's orders without putting up more of a fight.

"Take it easy on the staff, Severus. They aren't paid enough to deal with your sunny disposition."

He said nothing, but stood staring at her, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

She kept her voice mild. "Well, I'm happy to see you too."

"I thought you a Gryffindor, Minerva. And yet you just let them strike you down?"

"What else was I supposed to do? Allow our teachers to be taken to Azkaban? Myself? Those Aurors are still Ministry employees, regardless of whosever orders they're following. And I wasn't going to let Umbridge have total run of the school!"

"Yes. By the way." Snape canted his head and grinned sardonically. "How's that going for you?"

She glared at him. "Not well. Are you here for a nice social visit, or a thorough critique of my idiocy?"

Severus blinked, but his face remained expressionless. "I am . . . glad that you are all right, Minerva."

"Thank you. I appreciate it." Her face softened. "How are you doing?"

"Fine."

"After what happened to Sirius—?"

"He was a fool! Not to mention impetuous, stupid, and an idiot!"

"Three of those words mean the same thing."

"It bears repeating."

"Severus, I know you and Sirius didn't like each other, but he's fallen. He was a colleague of yours and Harry's godfather. He was a friend of Lily's."

"And Potter's!"

"I'm not going to pretend that there's not a part of you that didn't feel something when he died. I've known you far too long to know there is far more to you than those years at Hogwarts when they taunted you." She gave him a meaningful glance. "You are human. I'm fairly certain of that."

He stared at her for a very long time before he responded. "Always the Gryffindor, Minerva."

1998

The battle was over.

They had won.

As much as one could win in a war.

Minerva climbed the stairs to the Headmaster's office. She thought of the fallen, the bodies all young and old, Death Eater and student. Family and friend and enemy. They were all in that chamber room now, lying prone and lifeless, their souls belonging to the ages. They were frozen in time, and she, Minerva McGonagall, had survived to start rebuilding. She would live and she would die at a natural old age, not from any violence wrought by wand, by witch or wizard.

She crossed the threshold to the office. She had been here so many times this year, countless attempts — all fruitless — as she pleaded, bribed, and finally demanded Severus to put an end to the punishments, the torture, the whippings the students endured for even the slightest indiscretions.

None of it had swayed him at the time.

But then Harry Potter gave his speech to the Great Hall. He told You-Kn- . . .V-Voldemort that Severus had been Dumbledore's. And not just Dumbledore's, but Lily's. Lily's the entire time! He was never Voldemort's.

In the all the murder and destruction and war that had ravaged the last two decades of their world, Severus had managed to remain good. Imperfect. Fallible.

But good.

She stopped and looked around her. That Severus had not changed much in Dumbledore's office, save for removing the strange silver gadgets that Albus had possessed suddenly resonated on a far deeper, far more meaningful level for her—

"Ah! I wondered if I'd be able to see you tonight, Minerva.

She spun around, her tension falling at the sight of Dumbledore's portrait. "You scared me, Albus."

"Quite a benefit of having no legs or feet on which to sneak up and surprise old friends." He smiled at her. "You did wonderfully, Minerva."

"I assure you that I was not the only one fighting tonight."

"I am not talking about the battle."

She pressed her mouth tightly. "Does being a portrait make you suddenly telepathic?"

"I do not know about telepathy, but it does give one a unique opportunity to observe the world, Minerva. And he considered you a friend. He had nothing but the deepest respect for you, even when the both of you were at odds."

She crossed over and stood in front of the portrait. "But he never confided his feelings for Lily to me. How deep they were! Or anything else about his past."

"Because he could not." Dumbledore looked at her with remorse. "I was his confidant in matters personal to him, but I also knew that it cut him deeply to lose your friendship. Indeed all the relationships that he built over the years teaching at Hogwarts."

"He must have been so alone." Minerva spoke softly, almost to herself.

"He did have me, but a portrait is a poor substitute for human contact. If you choose," Dumbledore gestured behind her, "there is my Pensieve."

She turned to look at the device.

"Harry used it to view Severus' memories. And if I'm not mistaken, those memories are still in there."

Minerva walked slowly towards it, catching a glimmer, a swirl of incandescent light. She spied the briefest glimpse of Severus' face in the shimmering pool, glaring at another person. No doubt either Dumbledore, Harry, or one of the Marauders.

"Go on, Minerva," Dumbledore's portrait said. "You should."

Minerva took in a deep breath . . . and she dived in.

When she emerged, she had to compose herself, to wipe her cheeks and suck in her sobs. She hoped that, perhaps in the middle of her weeping, she had managed to wipe away the soot, dirt and blood of battle.

"Professor McGonagall."

She straightened her back and turned to Auror Jacob Abernathy, who had just popped his head into the open office. "Yes?"

"We've retrieved the body. You wanted to have a moment with him before we transported him to the Ministry?"

She swallowed and nodded. "Yes. The chamber in the Great Hall will suffice, Jacob. Privately, please. And then he's yours."

Abernathy gave her a final bow and turned around. Minerva could hear him barking orders to his team.

She straightened up, tugging on her robes, and walked towards the door.

"Did you find what you were looking for, Minerva?"

She stopped and looked back at Dumbledore. She gave the portrait a small, watery smile.

He grinned. "Go and say your peace. And tomorrow we start rebuilding."

"Yes we will. Headmaster."

Minerva bowed her head, turned, and made her way downstairs to give him the proper goodbye that she couldn't before.