If she were ever asked to remember exactly how this particular tradition had begun, Minerva McGonagall would have to admit that she couldn't remember.
But, almost every night he had to go to a certain staff meeting - the ones not of the Hogwarts variety- she waited patiently at the entrance to his chambers.
He would normally manage to get himself that far before requiring any assistance.
It didn't really matter what it was - finding a potion in his supply, tending to his cuts, making sure he had salves prepared beforehand - she was quite willing to help. She even got a chance to use Transfiguration from time to time.
He never asked her why she persisted in such a manner, why she insisted on helping him in recovering from the labours of his "night job".
That was simply because they both knew this was her way of reassuring herself that he was still alive.
...
A/N: Would you believe that this drabble was inspired by a frivolous game?
Neither did I, until I started writing it.
