As always - everything belongs to JK Rowling.

Chapter One
Picking up the Pieces

Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was many things. A fighter and survivor of both the First and Second Wizarding War. A recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class. A member of the Order of the Phoenix. A fierce believer in right and wrong, and of law and order. And also, a woman who had loved and lost.

She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on her breathing.

In. Out.

And then she focused on the small crowd before her.

A dozen folding chairs had been conjured up and placed in a half moon circle before the dais at the front of the Great Hall, and the people currently sitting on them looked tired and worn. Tired and worn but with a glint in their eyes. McGonagall had seen that glint before. It had many names, but survivor's fire was perhaps the most fitting. She supposed she had it too. That burning yearning to be a part of something that would make her feel whole again. They were all there to mend some part of themselves, in whatever way they could.

Neville Longbottom sat next Luna Lovegood and, a little surprisingly, her father. Filius Flitwick fiddled with his moustache, whispering something to Pomona Sprout, who nodded gravely. Hagrid took up two chairs at the end, glancing around the Great Hall, teary-eyed. McGongall briefly met Poppy Pomfrey's gaze. The matron gave her a half-smile before turning to Hagrid, telling him something McGonagall couldn't make out and then patting him on the hand.

Harry Potter sat beside Ginny Weasley, and next to her was Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, holding hands. All four of them looked up at McGonagall expectantly. She let her eyes wander to Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Cho Chang.

A warm breeze came in through one of the broken windows, ruffling McGonagall's hair. It was the beginning of July. Two months had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, and the last time she had seen all of them together had been at Remus Lupin's and Nymphadora Tonk's funeral.

McGonagall fought off another wave of emotions and shook her head slightly. She clapped her hands. "Settle down, please," she said, a slight tremble sneaking its way into her voice.

The crowd immediately faced forward and a heavy silence fell over the room.

"I have invited you here tonight to start off the–" she glanced around the hall "– quite immense task of restoring and rebuilding Hogwarts."

"I won't lie to you," McGonagall continued. "It's not without difficulty … seeing all of you. In this place. Again."

She heard a couple of sniffs, and in the corner of her eye she saw Xenophilius Lovegood put an arm around his daughter.

"This very hall is filled with memories. Horrible memories," she said. "But also, happy memories. Good memories. We must let those memories live on. Hogwarts must live on.

And we owe it to–" her voice broke "– all of the ones we have lost to make that happen."

She paused, frowning. "But heaven knows how we're going to be able to open the school again in just two months."

"Don't ye worry, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid burst out, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his moleskin coat. "We'll spruce this ol' place up in no time. You'll see!"

"Right you are, Hagrid!" said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. "No time, at all!"

McGonagall looked both pleased and slightly annoyed at the same time. "Right. Thank you," she mumbled. "Good. Then I suppose we'll just …"

She gestured towards the rubble and scraps and bricks and stones and broken windows and ripped hangings and dismembered armor. "Sort this mess out."

ooo

Not knowing where to begin herself, McGonagall stayed in the Great Hall, tending to the large glass windows behind the staff table. She muttered an incantation under her breath and the small glass panes reformed, one by one. Waves rippled through them, and then stilled, as the pieces slowly came together. She was nearly finished when a voice in her ear made her jump.

"How may I be of assistance, Headmistress?"

"Severus!" McGonagall spun around. "What are you doing out of bed?" she said sharply. "You should be resting!"

"I have done enough resting for a lifetime," said Snape, with a slight curl to his upper lip. "Give me something to do, or I shall go mad."

"Spare me the dramatics," said McGonagall. "It hasn't even been a fortnight since you woke up from—"

"Nevertheless," Snape broke in. "If I am well enough to be walking around, then I am well enough to be put to use." He pulled out his wand, finishing the last window panes.

McGonagall arched an eyebrow, watching his wandwork irritably. "Who said you were well enough to be walking around?" she asked, not trusting this new information at all.

"Poppy," said Snape. "This morning."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Really?"

"You are free to cross-examine her to your heart's content, Headmistress—" he made a mock bow "—but as of today, I am free of the Infirmary." Snape grimaced slightly as he put away his wand. "If I never see those walls again, it will be too soon."

McGonagall peered over her glasses, contemplating him. "You're a grown man. If you say you're fine, that is good enough for me."

Snape shot her a sideways glance, and for a second McGonagall thought she saw a trace of agony in them. "I need to do something," he said quietly. "Anything."

"Fine." McGonagall spread her arms. "I do have something that cannot be left unattended for much longer," she said, motioning for him to follow her.

"The castle's wards need to be restored where they've been penetrated and broken," she told him. "And that's in quite a few places. Especially in the courtyard. I'm not even sure if we are completely invisible to Muggles anymore."

She stopped in front of the double oak doors leading out to the Entrance Hall. One of them had almost been blasted off its hinges, and was leaning dangerously forward. "Unbelievable," she muttered. "There is so much work to be done. But no rest for the weary, I suppose."

Snape nodded. "I'll start right away," he said and made to walk away, but McGonagall gripped his elbow, forcing him to a sudden halt. "Maybe I was unclear?" She gave him a pointed look. "You most certainly will not do it alone."

ooo

Hermione Granger watched her two former professors from afar as she levitated wood and rubble into a pile. They seemed to be arguing over something, and McGonagall was holding onto Snape like her life depended on it. Snape had his trademark sneer plastered on his face and was glaring at McGonagall.

Hermione turned her attention back to the pile and mumbled Evanesco, making it disappear.

She glanced over at Snape again. He was as pale as she remembered him, and thin, wearing his usual black frock coat and billowing robes, even though it was a warm summer's day. His hair was at shoulder length and as greasy as ever. The only thing disturbing his otherwise familiar appearance was a thick bandage wrapped around his neck. It looked uncomfortable, sticking out from underneath his collar.

Hermione knew he had survived Nagini's attack and that he had been hospitalized, first at St Mungo's and then at Hogwarts. It was strange and … frankly, a little unsettling, seeing him again. She shuddered, as horrible images of him lying on the dusty floor in the Shrieking Shack, bleeding and dying, flooded her mind.

McGonagall suddenly moved away from Snape, her eyes sweeping the room, and before Hermione could look away, the Headmistress called for her.

"Ah, Miss Granger!" She waved impatiently. "Will you come here for a minute?"

Hermione smiled uncertainly, not really wanting to go over there at all. She moved across the floor, stopping in front of them.

"I'm fairly certain I can take care of it myself," said Snape to McGonagall, as soon as Hermione was in earshot. "There is no need to call in a … war hero," he drawled.

Hermione felt a pang of irritation. "I think that title applies to you as well, Professor Snape," she said. "And hello. I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight. I'm a little surprised, to be honest. You look rather well."

Snape shot her a look of disgust.

"Sir," Hermione added quickly.

"Let the girl continue with whatever inane task she was doing," said Snape to McGonagall. "I assure you, I—"

"That's enough," McGonagall cut off. "You're barely back on your feet, and Miss Granger is more than capable to assist you."

"I beg to differ," Snape ground out.

McGonagall fixed him with a stare. "I am not arguing with you on this subject, Severus. You are wasting my time, and everyone else's. You will either accept help, or leave."

Snape looked like somebody had just slapped him in the face. He gave McGonagall a stiff nod.

"Good," said McGonagall, turning her attention to Hermione.

"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about," said Hermione, making the Headmistress chuckle.

"The wards need to be restored," said McGonagall. "They are fairly straightforward. The trick is to figure out where they have been broken, and then pick up the threads from there. It is almost like stitching, you patch them up as you go along. Severus knows the procedure. Once you have found the cracks, he'll show you how to repair them."

And with that, Snape turned on his heels, stalking away from them, leaving Hermione no choice but to follow.

She caught up with him at the entrance to the courtyard, just as Harry and Ron passed by, carrying a large cage of owls between them.

"Hey!" said Ron, looking from Hermione to Snape, then back to Hermione. "Where are you two going?"

"To restore the wards," said Hermione, and shook her head in a 'let's talk about this later'-kind of way.

"You and him?" said Ron disbelievingly, adjusting the weight of the cage. "Then we'll come too."

"I think not, Weasley," scoffed Snape. "One third of the Golden Trio is quite enough."

Hermione shot him a glare. "Don't call—"

"Come on, Ron," said Harry impatiently, sweat beads forming on his forehead. "I'm losing my grip here."

"But—" Ron began, trying to talk over the loud hooting coming from inside the cage. "Bloody owls," he said. "We'll catch up with you later, then!"