A sharp knock came on Minerva's chamber door. If it had been a different year, when Hogwarts was a different school, under a different lead, she wouldn't have been as surprised as she was at the disruptive sound. If indeed it had been a different time, then Minerva would have expected to open her door to a smiling Albus, he, prepared for their weekly nights of chess. He would have entered in his pajamas, she already clad in her night gown, and together they would have passed the night in a rousing round of their favorite game followed by a bottle of fire whisky.

But, those times and those days that she so yearned to bring back were gone. Albus was dead, murdered in cold blood by Severus Snape, a tragic flaw in the old wizard's plan for the 'greater good'. There would be no more late nights, no more laughter as they drank a little more than they should have, and no more memories to make. No, good things always came to an end. It was time for war, and Minerva had seen enough of war to know that it most certainly wouldn't endure the sharing of small moments with friends.

A single hand shook as her fingers gripped to the door know, creating small, but permanent nicks into the wood. Since Albus's passing she hadn't had any visitors, not Poppy, nor Filius, nobody. No matter how great of a façade she was able to put up, deep down the thought of revealing one of the Carrows frightened her. Slowly and cautiously she opened her door, finding the newly appointed Headmaster stood before her. Through all her hatred and all her anger, Minerva saw, even if she'd never admit to it, for a split second, the young, shy and desperate Severus she had met when he was an eleven year old boy when he had come knocking on her door after James had bullied him for the first time. Of course that child was gone, corrupted by a choice he had made in full awareness of the consequences. For years Minerva had been living, under the influence of Albus's naivety, believing that Severus had reclaimed himself. But, she had been wrong, Albus had been wrong, and in turn a life had been lost.

Minerva was the first to speak, her voice clipped with irritation which only masked the pain lying beneath. When she looked at him, the usually stern Potions Master was staring at the floor, obviously avoiding looking her in the eye. Coward, she thought. "Headmaster, is there something I can assist you with? Otherwise I would prefer to return to my chambers."

Wringing his hands, Snape raised his head, revealing the face of Albus's killer and the biggest traitor the school had known. "I'm sorry to disturb your evening Professor, however I have information I feel will concern you dearly. Though it may not pertain to the current moment, I assure you that as this war takes its course, you may find yourself heeding what I intend to communicate to you."

And yet, despite everything that he had done, it was all Severus Snape: the way he spoke, his clear annunciations, small pauses between the words he used, and the way he used only the exact phrases to make his point limpid. In one sense, he hadn't changed.

But, alongside the parts that were Snape, there was something else in his eyes. To Minerva, his eyes had always seemed a stone black, but that night she saw that they swelled with something else. If one ignored the way he carried himself and looked only into his eyes, then perhaps he wouldn't have come across as a man worthy of so much hate. Yet, Minerva found that she was unable to allow herself to think about him in that light. He was a murderer. He had murdered her best friend. She could never forgive him for that.

"What is it that you wish to tell me," she asked coldly.

Snape made no movements when he spoke again. "May I come in?"

Appalled at the idea of him entering her private rooms, the same rooms in which his victim had once spent his nights, she reluctantly stepped aside to permit his entry. As he walked inside Snape didn't look around her rooms which didn't surprise her much for he had seen them a number of times in the past.

If she once more allowed herself to think of the days of the past, an action she couldn't depict as right or wrong, Minerva would know that Severus had indeed been inside her rooms not as an enemy but as a friend. It had occurred only a handful of times, but there had in fact been days where the heads of rivaling houses had put aside their differences and shared a cup of tea over light conversation. They had talked of little things: Quidditch, star students, troubling students, and topics related solely to school. However, Minerva had never dreaded those afternoon cups of tea, in fact, at the time she had rather enjoyed his company.

Snape didn't ask to take a seat, nor did she offer him one. Once she had shut the door, Minerva had leaned against the wooden frame, shaking slightly in his presence. "Whatever it is that you wish to discuss, I suggest that you tell me before I send you away. Despite what you wish to think, these are still my rooms."

The wizard took a step towards her, no emotion of any sort present on his face except his usual scowl which had deepened at her words. "I'm afraid that you have forgotten who is Headmaster, Professor McGonagall. I am the Headmaster here, and if I wish to remain in your rooms, then I will do as I see fit. You wouldn't want another run in with Amycus Carrow, would you?"

Minerva felt her heart stop, swallowing back the bile in her throat. Her legs weakened and she almost felt herself sink to the ground. The door behind her was just enough to keep her standing. Her thighs shook, thinking back to her run in with Amycus Carrow just days before. The Death Eater had cornered her in the halls and lifted up her skirts. If it hadn't been for her quick reflexes with her wand…she shuddered at the thought. She didn't want to think about what would have happened to her. Snape had administered no punishment when he heard of the incident.

"You headmaster," she scuffed, laughing bitterly as she curled her hand tighter around her wand. "You're no Headmaster. Albus Dumbledore will always be the Headmaster here. How have you so quickly forgotten him?"

She had struck at something. His eye twitched. The corner of his mouth moved just the slightest. Minerva watched intently as he gathered himself enough to speak. His body didn't move an inch towards or away from her. He stood firmly in his place, his slight facial movements the only indication that she had gotten to him. "You report to me," he replied, annunciating each syllable carefully. The small statement made her blood run cold, but she refused to show his effect on her.

Over the years, having already lived through one wizarding war, the witch had become quite skilled in burying her emotions even when she was most frightened. Being the Head of Gryffindor had taught her that bravery, above all other attributes one could wish to have, intimidated an opposing force the most. If the enemy was convinced that you were not scared or moved by them, no matter their size, ability or power, then in some cases, you were able to turn the struggle in favor for yourself.

On the other hand, Minerva was a realistic woman. She knew there were always wizards who would be more powerful than herself and be unmoved by her idealistic Gryffindor qualities. Though there were still indeed men at the lower ranks among the enemy who would be frightened if their opponent did not find them frightening. It took sharp skills to determine one type of man from another; skills even at her ripe age, Minerva had not begun to master. As it came onto her, Severus Snape did not, contrary to what she had immediately believed, seem to care at all for her sharp tongue, nor did he seem the least bit intimidated by it. She silently cursed herself.

For the first time that night, Minerva brought her gaze up to his, staring at him intently. She would not fear his eyes. In that moment two of the most powerful wizards stood before on another, neither making a move at the other. Neither held the upper hand.

After a few moments of silence, Minerva took a step towards him, her robes brushing against the floor. "After all that Albus did for you…you repay him with death."

"The Dark Lord insisted that you would be a problem," he replied, lowering his voice. "And I insisted on keeping you alive, an act you should be very much grateful for. One slip Professor," he added, stepping closer to her so his face was inches from hers. "One slip and you would find yourself dead before you can even reach for your wand. But there are fates worse than death; things that will make death seem like a walk through Diagon." She cringed as he came closer to her face, less than an inch away. He ran his fingers over a gash which lay on her face, another indicator of a run in with the Carrows. Minerva slapped his hand away from her face. "Professor, you would be shocked just how many ways a Death Eater is taught to torture besides the Crucio curse. There are rapes, beatings-,"

"Is that a threat?" she hissed, breathing deeply. "Why don't you kill me right here? Like you did Albus." Snape made no reply. "You're too much of a coward to do it, aren't you?"

Snape pulled out his wand, and she pulled out hers. "Do not call me a coward," he hissed, holding his wand to her throat. His hand was shaking; she could feel his grip wavering against her neck. The smooth wood of his wand was cold against her skin.

"You killed my best friend."

Suddenly, he pushed her against her door, causing her to drop her wand. Her heart raced rapidly as she felt his body weight against hers. She couldn't move. "Minerva, listen to me." Her breath caught in her throat. He hadn't used her first name since he had returned as Headmaster. "I don't expect you to go down without a fight. No, that's not anything like a Gryffindor and after all you're Godric Gryffindor, am I right?" He sneered at her, his lips curling at the sides, making her return the sneer. "And I don't expect you to trust me, but I need you to listen." The last was desperate and she looked directly into his eyes once more. "Please, no matter what happens, just, just keep yourself safe." Minerva felt her entire body freeze, her heart stop beating and her chest stop heaving. "He's powerful, and he's growing more and more powerful as each day passes. The Carrows are dangerous. You've survived them twice. But that doesn't mean you will again. Put aside your damn Gryffindor pride. Death Eaters aren't intimidated by a woman who bleeds red and gold, they are going to kill you either way. Protect yourself. I trust you're smart enough to know when the time comes that you need to run and get yourself out of this damn place." He loosened his grip and she was unable to move, speechless.

Severus looked away, unable to meet her glance. "Severus I-,"

"Don't say a word," he warned. "We have no time for further conversation. No if you'll allow me." The man before her, slightly trembling, unable to look at her, motioned towards the door. Cautiously, Minerva moved from in front of the door and they stood in silence for a few moments before his eyes met hers, him gripping the doorknob. "Goodnight, Professor."

"Severus-,"

"Please, Minerva." This time his voice cracked slightly. "Goodnight." He opened the door and slammed it shut behind him before she could speak another word.

Later that night, as she lay in bed, her black hair fallen across her shoulders, she would replay the events of that evening in her head. Even the devil, she would, was human. And somehow that was enough.