A/N: This is a little plot bunny that has been hopping about in my head since Severus Snape's birthday. On Alan Rickman's birthday, I decided to put fingertips to the keyboard. It's a oneshot, but I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling, and they do not belong to me. If I were, and if they did, Severus Snape would be alive and well.

- Darkest Before The Dawn -

"Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray." - Lord Byron

Minerva shivered as she stepped into her Hogsmeade cottage. Tightening the bundle she held under her arms, she pulled the door shut with a click and made a brief stop in the kitchen to offload before climbing the creaky staircase.

The rustling of curtains drew her into the nearest bedroom where the window stood wide open letting in the frigid air. With a frown and a flick of her wand, it slammed shut and locked.

"Damn it, witch!"

Minerva turned to face the man who sat in an armchair in the corner of the room. "It was freezing in here, Severus."

"Hardly," he scoffed.

Smirking, she flicked her wand once more to light the lamp beside him. "I see. And that is, I suppose, why you are sitting there wrapped up in your winter warmest. Because it was not freezing in here."

Severus scowled at her before shoving out of his chair and stalking over to the window. When he attempted to open it once more, the witch gaped at him in disbelief.

"What the hell is wrong with you? It's January! You don't open the window in January."

The wizard whirled about to face her when he could not overcome her locking charm. "Open the window, Minerva, or so help me, I will forcibly eject you from this house."

"You will do no such thing!" she snapped.

A deep frown settled on his face as Snape stormed past her, thundered down the stairs, and threw open the front door with a loud bang.

Her stomach dropping, the witch hurried after him. "Severus, you ridiculous fuckwit! Get back in here before the Aurors –"

She paused suddenly at the bottom of the staircase upon noticing the man slumped in the open doorway, his arms wrapped about himself. Since he had not actually crossed the threshold of the house, McGonagall relaxed and came to kneel beside him.

"Severus," she said gently. "You cannot leave –"

"I know that!" he hissed.

"I know," Minerva reassured him. She blew out a deep breath and cautiously stroked his shoulder. "It's cold, Severus. Come inside and shut the door."

"I'm fine," the man snarled, jerking away from her. "Just leave me be, witch!"

"You realize you cannot actually cast me out, don't you?"

Snape huffed and pulled his cloak tighter. "I would not require magic to physically chuck you out on your arse."

"This is my house, young man!" she chided with a shake of her head. "I volunteered to shelter you, so don't you dare –"

"Because you felt guilty for attempting to kill me!" He turned his head toward her. "Repeatedly, I might add."

"It was not repeatedly!" the woman protested. "One time, Severus. One time!"

A glare was his only reply.

"Alright, fine. Twice. But I scarcely meant the second one."

Sighing, Severus returned his eyes to the dark front yard and muttered, "You have to mean it."

Minerva grimaced and let out a mournful sigh before tugging on his arm. When he snatched it from her grasp, she groaned. "Alright. Why, exactly, are we freezing ourselves to death instead of sipping hot drinks in front of the fireplace?"

The wizard gave her a mulish look. After a moment, he shrugged. "I needed air."

"Air? There's a whole house full of air. Warm air!"

Snape closed his eyes and again turned his face away.

Watching his hair flutter in the breeze, the witch finally realized what he was trying to say. "You mean fresh air."

The man shifted uncomfortably, but remained silent.

With a weary sigh, McGonagall rose to her feet, feeling her bones creak and joints crack. "I'm sorry I didn't understand. Come. I'll open the garden doors in the sunroom. It makes me nervous you being this close to the wards."

When he still refused to meet her eyes, she patted his shoulder in encouragement.

"Up, up. And tip this way if you would. I don't want you accidently toppling through, because I rather doubt they'll believe me if I tell them it wasn't an escape attempt."

Severus muttered darkly under his breath, but begrudgingly scooted back further into the house before slowly standing.

Flashing him a grateful glance, Minerva swiftly locked the door and then strode down the hall to the sunroom. She whisked the white dust cloths off of the furniture, lit the lamps, and then pointed to the wicker sofa. After telling him to take a seat, she unwarded the glass-paneled doors and propped them open.

"There. A bit more out of the wind on this side of the house. That should at least prevent hypothermia from setting in."

She tugged her cloak tighter around her frame before discretely casting warming charms on her clothes, the sofa, and his cloak. The wizard snapped his eyes to her, but made no verbal protest. Offering him a tense smile, the woman sank down beside him on the sofa.

The howl of the wind was the only sound to fill the room until Snape finally spoke. "Why are you here? Don't you have a school to mismanage?"

Snorting softly, the Hogwarts Headmistress touched his arm. "Oh, they can muddle on well enough without me for a night."

"Rather optimistic of you," he murmured.

"Filius will send a Patronus if he needs me."

Severus folded his arms to his chest. "That does not answer my first question."

She quirked her lips. "Have you forgotten what day it is?"

His eyes pinched in concentration before a grumbling sigh escaped his lips. "Given that it is January, and New Year's has already passed, I presume it must be the ninth."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "You hadn't realized it was your birthday?"

The man shrugged. "Just another frigid day spent in a useless existence. I see no point in celebrating just because it happens to be the anniversary of the day my mother shat me out into the world."

"Remind me to speak to Poppy about adding health and development to our curricula," Minerva jibed. "It seems to be woefully inadequate."

"I did not mean it literally," he argued.

"Well," she smiled, "perhaps some of us are glad you joined the world."

Severus lifted one lip in a sneer. "Oh, yes. I'm certain they're just pissing all over themselves in eager anticipation of wishing me birthday tidings."

"When you're this delightful, who wouldn't be pissing themselves?" the witch retorted. When he offered a smirk in recognition of her remark, she pushed herself up from the sofa. "You must be getting hungry. I suppose I should see to supper."

The wizard remained stiffly staring at the open door until finally the sound of pots and pans clanging drew his attention toward the kitchen. After taking in one last breath of cold air, he closed the garden doors and crept down the hall to investigate.

"You're not cooking?"

Minerva glanced up from the vegetables she was chopping. "Well, I'm not prepping Pepper Up."

He continued staring at her in shock. "I thought you meant you would send for the elves per usual."

"While I may not be Molly Weasley, I can hold my own in the kitchen." As she turned back to the stove, she explained, "I used to assist some of the church women in the kitchen when I was a young girl. We'd put on breakfast and lunch most Sundays for some of my father's congregation. Holiday dinners were quite the production, as well. I didn't get to eat much of it - I was feeding my soul more through serving, my father liked to say – but what I did, I remember fondly. Don't tell Molly, but I have yet to find its equivalent in the Wizarding realm."

When her story was met only with silence, McGonagall peered over her shoulder. The wizard had perched himself on a stool at the counter and was watching her intently. In her mind's eye, she saw a flash of him as a small boy watching his mother move about the kitchen. Her stomach then clenched with pain for she knew it was unlikely such a thing had occurred in his childhood. Recalling the sullen teen in her classroom, she doubted he had ever known what it was like to be properly cared for.

"Do you require assistance?"

Minerva startled at the question, realizing she had paused cooking during her wool-gathering. Clearing her throat, she shook her head. "No, no. I was just… considering what I need to do."

"Ah," Snape mumbled. "Probably best."

The witch just managed to hear his utterance and looked back in time to see him self-consciously removing his hands from view. Years of the Cruciatus curse, Nagini's venom, and Azkaban had worked together to leave his hands prone to occasional tremors and spasms. She had spoken to Poppy regarding them, and though the Healer was confident they would fade with time, they were presently preventing him from brewing.

She had no wish to humiliate him by drawing attention to his hands, so she decided to keep her conversation with Poppy to herself for the time being. It relieved her, however, when the curious expression reappeared on his face, and he returned to monitoring her cooking.

Several minutes passed in companionable silence until Minerva removed the pan from the heat. "So, what have you been doing to keep yourself amused?"

Severus grimaced and dropped his eyes to the countertop. "Nothing worthwhile."

Besides his periodic tremors, the Ministry had forbidden him from using magic for the time being as part of the conditions of his transition from Azkaban to house arrest. As such, he had been relegated to finding more Muggle means of passing the time.

"Did you finish the books I brought you last week?" When he nodded, she added, "I can bring you more tomorrow, then."

The wizard rolled his shoulders noncommittally.

"Have you thought at all about my suggestion?"

Sighing deeply, Severus folded his arms atop the counter. "I'm not a competent brewer any longer."

"Writing a textbook does not require physically brewing anything," she countered. "You've been correcting published brews for more than twenty years. Put that knowledge and experience to good use."

He shook his head and slid forward, resting his chin on his arm.

The Headmistress pinched her lips into a thin line. "You know, Potions OWLs and NEWTs have been falling steadily since you stopped teaching."

"But class scores have increased, I'm sure."

"Those aren't what matter most, however, to future employers or entities responsible for evaluating educational institutions." She exhaled slowly. "We've dropped below Ilvermorny the past two years. That hasn't happened since quite early on in your tenure."

The Slytherin winced. "Tell me we're still leading Beauxbatons and Durmstrang."

"For the moment," the woman replied. "Although, Redfern Academy is creeping up on us. If things continue as they have, they'll surpass us in a few years."

Surprised, he snapped back into an upright position. "How is that even possible? They've been abysmal in Potions for half a century at least."

Minerva turned to grin at him. "They hired one of your former students – Hannah Rutledge?—a few years ago. She's been revising their curriculum based on your work more than likely."

"Miss Rutledge was an exceptional student," he admitted.

"I remember," she nodded. "I tried recruiting her, but she claims she's happy in British Columbia."

Rubbing his forehead, Severus sighed. "It would be irresponsible to write a text without verifying its contents."

"So hire someone to test them for you," the witch suggested. "You can delegate things, you realize."

"Hire whom?" he grumbled. "And with what money? The Ministry confiscated all of my assets, meager as they were."

"I know, Severus. I know." McGonagall set down her spoon. "I'd happily lend you the money to hire someone and for the initial publication expenses. Your textbooks would sell exceptionally well, so I don't doubt you'd be able to pay me back soon enough."

The man wiped his face. "You shouldn't waste your money on me, Minerva. Housing and feeding me should be enough to assuage your guilt."

"Oh? And on whom should I waste my money?" she asked. "I have no children or grandchildren. I but rarely see my niece and nephews, and my brothers have always been better off financially than myself. Besides which, I am looking to use your Potions brilliance to regain the standing of Hogwarts under my leadership. My reputation is at stake, Severus, so I have a vested interest in seeing this through."

"Careful, Minerva. Your Slytherin is showing."

The witch pointed the spoon at him. "Bite your tongue, you."

Snickering, he leaned against the counter.

"As for who could brew for you," Minerva mused. "Well, you could always ask Hermione Granger. Even you've agreed she's more than competent at brewing, and she's always sought your approbation. She's just finishing university. Or perhaps Madam Rutledge would be willing to work with you via correspondence. Knowing your perfectionist tendencies, however, I'd imagine you'd want to breathe down their necks while they work."

Snape cracked a small smirk and nodded.

"Well, if you can't manage to deal with Hermione, Draco Malfoy likely could stand some employment. The Ministry has yet to allow him to sit the NEWTs, and they seized everything but Narcissa's dowry. While quite substantial, it's hardly enough to support a family and provide an inheritance."

His eyes widened noticeably. "You would personally fund Draco Malfoy's employment?"

The witch shrugged while picking up a plate. "I suppose my inner Slytherin comes out when I'm around you."

"That is positively Hufflepuff, madam."

Chuckling, she set the plate in front of him and then moved to pull down two wine glasses from the cupboard.

"Minerva," he warned when she uncapped a bottle and began to pour. "I can't."

"Hush," she replied, setting one glass and the bottle in front of him. "Not a stitch of alcohol in it, so the Ministry can stuff themselves."

"Non-alcoholic," Severus read the label. "Then what's the point?"

Minerva laughed as she claimed the stool beside him with her own plate and drink. "The point is to mark the occasion of your birth in whatever manner we can without bringing the Aurors crashing down on your head."

He grunted quietly and took a hesitant sip. "A bit sweet, but easier to choke down than pumpkin juice."

"A glowing recommendation if I ever heard one. They ought to put that on the bottle. Then again, it is a Muggle beverage, so I doubt they'd understand the bit about pumpkin juice."

"I don't understand pumpkin juice," the wizard sputtered as he tucked in to his meal. "This…is very good, Minerva. Thank you."

"You're more than welcome," she smiled.

They ate together in silence for several minutes before McGonagall dabbed her mouth with her napkin. "So… what do you think about the textbook idea?"

Snape slowly chewed and set down his fork. "I admit it has some merit… but I cannot hire Draco."

"No?" she questioned, surprise evident in her tone. "I guess I just assumed you'd prefer him, but I do realize you've sacrificed more than enough for that young man."

He sighed and picked up his glass. "I would prefer to work with him, but any contact with former Death Eaters, and the Aurors will have me shoved back in Azkaban faster than Weasley scarfs down biscuits."

"Bollocks," the witch grimaced. "I forgot about that. Well, your monitoring and house arrest will expire come October. Between now and then, you could work on planning and putting together initial protocols. If you wanted to start some of the testing, you could hire Hermione for the time being. Then, in nine months, you'll get your wand back, be free to go wherever you want, and consort with whomever you damn well please."

"Then I'll sack Granger and replace her with Draco," he sneered.

"I know you're just saying that to try to get a rise out of me, Severus. I wager you won't sack her. I think you'll find she's much outgrown her annoying tendencies."

"She's a Gryffindor. They don't outgrow them."

"Severus Snape!" Minerva scoffed. "After I made you supper?!"

"If I'd said it before, you wouldn't have fed me."

A bark of laughter escaped her. "Oh, I've missed your sparkling wit at the dining table. Staff meetings are dreadfully dull without you, you know."

"Well, that's entirely on you seeing as you're the one at the helm now."

"I suppose so," she murmured. "Speaking of dreadfully dull meetings, Kingsley had us all for an Order meeting last week."

Severus shook his head. "I don't want to know anything about it."

"Then I won't say anything. I won't even tell you that Hestia was asking about you."

He slowly swallowed the sip he had taken. "Curious over whether or not I've offed myself yet?"

Minerva swatted his arm and held up her pointer finger. "Don't even joke about that! And, no. She wanted to know that you were adjusting well."

"Adjusting," he repeated. "To being universally detested? To yet another form of imprisonment? I adjusted to that by the time I taught myself to read."

The woman pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. When she could trust her voice again, she rested her head on one hand. "I think she might have feelings for you."

He shot her a glare. "I highly doubt they're positive ones."

"I disagree. You may have been the spy, but I'm the one who noticed her eyeing you with interest during many an Order meeting."

"I was her professor," Snape huffed with a shake of his head. "You're mistaken."

McGonagall grinned. "Oh, and no 17-year-old witch has ever developed an attraction to her 26-year-old professor? Come now. She's attractive, intelligent, and compassionate. She can hold her own in a duel. You could do worse for yourself."

He rolled his eyes. "You're embarrassing yourself, witch."

"Am I? I'm not the one who's blushing." She chuckled when he turned away from her, and reached to touch his arm. "Oh, don't get upset now. I just want you to be happy, and I'm fairly certain Hestia wants that, too."

With a long, suffering sigh, Severus finished off the last few bites of his supper. After a minute, he sneered, "Well… do I get cake?"

The woman snorted and stacked their empty plates. "Did you want cake?"

"Of course not."

She quirked a wry grin as she carried the dirty dishes to the sink. "So, if I were to invite Hestia to accompany me for supper one night, would you behave yourself?"

Groaning loudly, the wizard rubbed his face. "You're going to keep nattering on about this, aren't you?"

"I believe I shall, yes."

"Goddamn Gryffindors," he sputtered.

"Hestia was in Hufflepuff, if you recall."

"Small comfort," Snape grumbled, slipping off his stool and heading toward the hallway.

"Where do you think you're going?" she called out.

"To bed!" he snapped. "Dealing with your constant pestering is exhausting."

"But you can't go to bed without cake!"

Severus spun slowly back to face her. He stared at the cake, frosted in green and silver, that she held in her hands. "You're jesting."

"I don't jest about cake," Minerva retorted. "I do confess, though, that the elves are to credit for this bit. I didn't have time to bake.

"Well, don't just stand there, you pillock. Sit down."

Snorting under his breath, Severus sank back onto the stool while she plated him a piece. "You are absolutely ridiculous, woman."

"Ever so charming, you are," she teased, setting the cake in front of him and holding out a fork. When he moved to grab it, however, she pulled it back. "You haven't answered my question."

"Fine," he huffed. "If you manage to drag Hestia Jones with you, I promise not to bite."

"Good." Minerva handed him the fork. "Unless she wants you to, in which case, I only ask that you wait until I leave."

"For fuck's sake!" Severus snatched up his plate and stomped out of the kitchen.

"Happy birthday, you ungrateful prude!" The witch shouted after him.

As she set about tidying up the kitchen, Minerva chuckled to herself and then breathed a sigh of relief. It had been three months since the man had been released into her custody, and finally it seemed as though the old Severus – the one she had considered her friend for many years – was beginning to reappear.

Severus Snape was not a man made to be idle. He needed a purpose, and she had spent weeks trying to engineer something that would keep him occupied without drawing undue attention from the Aurory. She was convinced that developing his own series of textbooks would be a productive enough use of his time. It would engage his intellect, allow him to occasionally berate someone other than himself, and go a long way to reestablishing himself as a positive force in Wizarding society.

And as much as he pooh-poohed the idea, she was also certain Hestia Jones could provide him much needed companionship. Perhaps it might not blossom into romance, but it would, at the very least, provide him with another friend at whom he could rail whenever she could not get away from Hogwarts. Hestia was a Hufflepuff – the man could stand some decent nurturing – and she had a constitution strong enough to withstand even his temper. After all, she had personally guarded the Dursleys for nearly a year without so much as hexing one of them. Even the Weasleys had not managed that.

The sound of something shattering drew Minerva from her reflections and sent her scurrying into the hall. Severus stood rigid at the other end of the hall; his cake plate broken into half a dozen shards on the hardwood at his feet. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides as he stared down at the floor.

"Oh, Severus," she whispered, realizing a hand spasm was likely to blame. When she strode forward, he attempted to skirt past her for the staircase. "Severus, stop."

The wizard tensed as she grabbed hold of his arm, and refused to look down at her.

"It's just a plate, Severus. I'll Reparo it in a moment, good as new."

"It's not just a fucking plate," Snape hissed, tearing his arm away from her.

The witch sorrowfully watched him disappear upstairs and flinched at the sound of a door slamming. After magically repairing the plate, she sent it and the fork into the kitchen sink for washing.

"Merlin help me." McGonagall took in a fortifying breath before mounting the steps herself. The bedroom door was closed, but not locked, so she entered without knocking.

Severus sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He did not immediately acknowledge her presence.

Sighing, the woman moved to sit beside him and placed a hand on his knee.

"Just go, Minerva."

"Unless you're prepared to physically throw me out into the snow and find some way to bar my entry into my own house, I'm not going anywhere."

He exhaled loudly. "You cannot fix me, so why waste the effort?"

"Now, there's something. I hadn't thought to try a Reparo on you."

The wizard shook his head. "That only works if the item is not irrevocably damaged."

"Perhaps it might work, then."

Dropping his hands, Snape glared at her.

"Severus, things are not going to get better unless you first believe they can." McGonagall took hold of his hand and clasped it between both of hers. "You cannot give up now. You've made it through too much to let this stand in your way."

His jaw tensed as he listened and then shook his head. "What the hell am I supposed to do if I can't control my own bloody hands? Even if I did attempt writing, it would no doubt turn out a nonsensical, unintelligible clusterfuck of ink splatters and blots."

"I did think about that," she admitted. "Quill and ink doesn't seem a practical method to me to begin with. A dicto-quill is out of the question for now since you can't activate or cancel its charm. So, I thought I might purchase you a collection of Muggle pens and notebooks. They're cheaper than quills and ink, won't snap as easily as a quill, and won't splatter ink everywhere if you do continue to have tremors. My father also had a typewriter he used for the final drafts of his sermons. I'm fairly certain my brother Robert has it tucked away in a closet somewhere, so I could procure that for you. Or if he did pitch it without telling me, I'm sure…"

Minerva trailed off upon noticing the stricken expression on his face. "Severus?"

The man swallowed heavily, then closed his eyes and hung his head. He inhaled sharply before whispering, "No better than a fucking Muggle now."

"I understand that, for the next nine months, it might seem like it," she reasoned, "but you and I both know that isn't true. You are one of the most talented wizards I've ever met, and you're not even fifty yet! Your potential is astronomical."

"You know no such thing, nor do I," Severus stated dismissively. "I haven't used a wand since the Battle at Hogwarts. I haven't attempted wandless magic since my first few months in Azkaban, and even then it was to pathetic success. For all anyone knows, I won't be able to summon anything more than trouble when the Aurors finally release me from my restrictions."

The Headmistress shook her head. "There is no reason to fret over such a thing. Losing magical ability is extraordinarily rare –"

"My mother lost hers."

Minerva choked back the rest of her words at his quiet statement. "What?"

"She could still manage simple spells when I was young, but by the time I went to Hogwarts…" He shook his head. "It was her wand I used as a student because she had no use for it, and purchasing my own would have left us without food and my father without booze for a month at least."

Blinking back tears, the witch began stroking her thumb across his knuckles. "You're concerned you could suffer a similar fate."

"She had her wand; she used it with some frequency, albeit secretly; and she still wound up a fucking Squib!" Ripping his hand out of her grasp, Snape stood and began to pace. "It's been years, Minerva! Years since I used any sort of magic. What if it's gone? What if… what if her weakness is hereditary?"

Minerva briefly closed her eyes and then rose to intercept him. Before he had a chance to realize her intentions, she threw her arms about his noticeably slimmer frame. When he finally calmed, she drew back slightly, cupped his face with her hands, and stared into his eyes.

"You are not weak, Severus Snape, and you will be fine. Forgive me for saying this, but I did teach your mother her last few years at Hogwarts. She was not nearly as adept at magical practice nor did she understand magical theory half as well as you when you were a student. I can count on one hand the witches and wizards I've instructed over the past 46 years that could have rivaled you. Even Hermione Granger didn't manage to beat your overall NEWT score."

An unmistakable glint appeared in his eyes.

"Ah, did I forget to tell you that?" she chuckled.

The man offered her a tiny smirk. "Must've slipped your mind."

"So if you've somehow managed to misplace your magic, Merlin help the rest of us," the woman quipped, patting his cheek with affection. "Don't worry about that now. I have no doubt you'll be right as rain, but if you do encounter difficulties with your magic, we'll deal with it then. I could find you a tutor, perhaps. I'm certain Hermione –"

"The fuck you will!" Snape snarled, pulling away from her.

McGonagall chuckled as he dropped back onto the bed, folded his arms, and petulantly glared at her. "Oh, don't pout, Severus. You know I'm only teasing. I wouldn't divulge anything about you to anyone without your explicit permission, and I damn sure wouldn't trust anyone but myself to assist you."

He breathed slowly and relaxed his posture. "I still don't understand why you'd agree to all of this."

"Because…" She stepped forward and pushed the hair out of his eyes. "Because it's about time you had someone looking out for you. And because, frankly, you're the closest friend I've ever had."

Severus snorted in disbelief. "That, madam, is the most pathetic thing I've ever heard."

"I don't think so," she argued. "But remember that, will you, when you're a famous author, happily married to a Hufflepuff with dark, curly-haired children running amok on your last nerve."

"Ughhh, sod off, you obnoxious hag!" he cried, flopping backward on the mattress. "Azkaban has little to recommend it, but at least it offered a respite from your ceaseless badgering."

Cracking a wide grin, Minerva patted his leg one last time. "I'll let you be, then, for the night. If you need anything, though, or want to talk, I'll just be next door."

Severus rolled his head to the side to look at her. "What? Did they give you the sack?"

"I told you Hogwarts would keep for the night without me."

"I didn't realize you meant overnight. Merlin, those little shits will burn Gryffindor Tower down by daybreak."

"I appreciate your concern, as ingenuine as it may be," she laughed. "However, I'm not going to pass on the chance to say that Severus Snape had a slumber party for his 43rd birthday."

With a loud groan, he swung his long legs onto the bed and draped his arm over his eyes. "I honestly despise you."

"I know." Minerva continued smirking as she dug in the pocket of her robes. Producing a small stack of birthday cards, she set them on the nightstand before moving toward the door. "Good night, Severus."

"Good night," he mumbled.

"Sleep well," she stated, pausing in the doorway. "And remember: tomorrow is a new day."

"I am aware of that fact, yes."

Minerva cleared her throat. "I'm glad for that, Severus. I was worried you had lost sight of it."

"Only temporarily," Severus sighed, lowering his arm and glancing toward her. "Thank you, Minerva."

"You're welcome, love."