I was inspired to write this story after thinking about the scene between Harry and McGonagall in Half-Blood Prince - how he walked out on her after she said she'd be there for him if he needed to talk. But what if he did want to talk? What would happen then? This is my take on that possibility, resulting in a new friendship for Harry and McGonagall.

Destiny is written in the stars… what rubbish.

Although he never had placed his faith in the planets, tea leaves, or anything else Sibyll Trelawney had tried to teach him, Harry Potter loved to gaze up at the stars. While they told nothing of his destiny, Harry knew the stories they told of a glorious past long forgotten – of a winged horse, ancient gods and goddesses, and heroes slaying chimaeras and other monsters. He loved the fact that while they were ancient mythology to Muggles, those tales were true in the magical world; scenes from ancient wizarding Greece. Winged horses were cousins to hippogriffs, chimaeras were dangerous creatures – one had been slayed by a Greek wizard riding a winged horse – and the gods and goddesses had been a group of Greek witches and wizards who, upon facing exposure by Muggles, had found it safer to declare themselves gods rather than face death, and chosen Mt. Olympus as their safe haven. From that time on, they kept watch over the people of Greece, aiding them on impossible tasks.

The ancient Greek wizards and witches watched over their people, and their stories live on in the stars. Everyone needs someone to watch over them, but what happens when that someone dies? Do they still watch over you even then? Who could ever replace them, guide you, love you? Can love live on after death?

While the big questions were flowing through his mind with the speed of a rapid river, Harry's thoughts turned to everyone who had ever watched over him, how they had loved him… and how much he missed them. His parents, who had given him life, loved him with their very souls, and gave their own lives to save him. Sirius, who had been a second father to him and proved to him that he wasn't evil. Dumbledore, who had been his headmaster, mentor, protector, and friend, who had given him advice, guidance, and strength… and the key to Lord Voldemort's defeat. Now they were all gone, taken by unspeakable acts of evil: his parents, murdered by Voldemort; Sirius, slain by his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange; Dumbledore, killed by a man he had trusted – Severus Snape. Guiding lights, all snuffed out… or did they still shine on?

Are you still watching over me? Harry asked on a prayer, searching the stars for some form of answer. I feel so alone, so empty. Everyone who ever guided me is dead. How long will it be before I lose someone else I love? Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, or…

"Potter?"

Her voice came from behind him so softly that Harry didn't even start – a good thing, considering that he was leaning against the railing of the Astronomy tower. Six years ago, he would have been stunned that his Head of House's voice could be so gentle, so warm. Now, he knew that Minerva McGonagall, behind the fierce looks and the icy blue eyes, was a loyal, loving woman and a powerful witch – a Gryffindor lioness to the core. Harry had come to the Astronomy tower to find answers and solace, but now he realized he was glad to see her, to have some company. He turned around and there she stood, curiosity on her face and compassion in her eyes. "Professor McGonagall, what are you doing up here?"

"I could ask the same of you," she replied, stepping forward to join him. "But I have the feeling that we both have the same reason."

A half-smile crossed Harry's face. "Am I that transparent?"

"Clearer than crystal. Myself, I've always been a harder stone to polish." Professor McGonagall rested her hands on the railing and raised her eyes heavenward. "It's a beautiful night. I can't remember the last time I saw this many stars."

Harry returned his gaze to the sky. "As many as there are, I was hoping that… maybe they could give me some kind of answer to my questions."

"What questions, Potter?"

For a moment, Harry stood on the brink of telling her everything; the questions all but ready to spill forth. But a fresh wave of pain surged through him at the very thought of recounting so many memories. "Nothing," he said quietly, avoiding the sharp azure gaze trained upon him. "Nothing, Professor."

The answer did not fool Professor McGonagall. "Mmm-hmm. I've learned that with you, nothing usually means something," she said, not unkindly. "I'm here, Potter. You can talk to me."

You can talk to me… the words stirred up feelings of guilt in Harry's heart as another memory surfaced. Just yesterday, Professor McGonagall had come to him in Dumbledore's office and said the very same thing, the huskiness of her voice telling him that she was hurting just as much as he was. But Harry's pain had gotten the better of him, and he had stalked out of the office without saying a word to her – a regret that now gnawed at his insides with a vengeance. She offered me compassion, and I threw it in her face. That's not me at all; why would I do that in the first place?

Because you turn into a selfish prat whenever disaster strikes too close to home, that's why, Harry's conscience chastised. You shrink up like a moke whenever somebody comes near, and near your heart at that. You're terrified of letting anybody else in because they might touch your heart, and after all, it's the ones who've touched our hearts that we love the most. You've grown to love McGonagall every bit as much as you love Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and the Weasleys, because whether or not you care to admit it, she's touched your heart.

How?

Don't be stupid. You know how. You might like to tell her just how. Talk to her. Don't be afraid to let her in.

I won't. And I know just how to start. Taking a deep breath, Harry finally met Professor McGonagall's eyes. "Professor… I'm sorry for the way I treated you in Professor Dumbledore's office last night. It wasn't right of me to just storm out and leave you there like that, not when you were trying to help me."

Professor McGonagall's reply made Harry wish she'd snapped at him instead. "Potter, it's quite all right," she said, the note of forgiveness in her voice twisting his heart with guilt again. "You were upset and you wanted to be alone; I should have realized that."

"It's no excuse, though," Harry said, unashamed to admit it. "I know you and I haven't exactly been close over the years, but that's no reason to treat you like you don't matter to me."

Professor McGonagall was silent, but her eyes were saying everything for her. That was one of the more remarkable things that Harry had discovered about her as the years went on – that even when she couldn't put her feelings into words, her wide blue eyes conveyed a world of emotions. "Do I really matter to you?"

"Of course you do!" Harry said, the emphatic yell inside him coming out in a soft affirmation. "Professor, when you were attacked by Umbridge last year and taken to St. Mungo's after, I didn't know what to do or what to think. You've always been here, ever since the day I came, and if you'd…" He swallowed and bowed his head, not wanting to voice the terrible thought – or Professor McGonagall to see the tears that had gathered in his eyes.

A gentle hand on his shoulder made him look back up, tears be hanged. "But I didn't," Professor McGonagall murmured. "I'm still here."

Harry shook his head, messy dark hair flying about his ears and forehead. "Professor Dumbledore isn't. Neither is Sirius." A quivering breath shook his body, but he continued on, unfazed by the sob's betrayal. "And my parents have been gone for years."

"Is that what you've been thinking about?"

"I've been up here for almost two hours thinking about how I've lost them all. They all had one thing in common: they loved me. That's why Voldemort killed my parents, that's why Bellatrix Lestrange killed Sirius, and that's why Snape killed Dumbledore. They all got too close to me. They guided me and loved me, and now they're gone. Everyone's gone, Professor."

Professor McGonagall's hand slid around to grasp his other shoulder, so that her entire arm was now wrapped around him, holding him in a loose but furious embrace. "Harry, look at me," she ordered; just the use of his Christian name was enough to make Harry's gaze snap back up to hers. "Nobody is gone as long as you remember them, and certainly not if you loved and were loved in return. If someone loved you with all of their heart, their love for you will still live on long after they're gone. And not everyone is gone. Who's still here for you? Tell me."

Harry took a deep breath, just preventing another sob from quaking its way through his body. "Ron. Hermione. Fred, George, and Ginny. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Hagrid. Remus Lupin."

Professor McGonagall squeezed his shoulder in a gentle prompt. "Anyone else?"

Against his will, a tear coursed down his cheek as he finally admitted what he'd known all along. "You."

"Yes, my boy. You've always had me, and you always will."

"How do you know that? There's going to be a war, Professor; anybody could die at any time."

"Stop it. As long as I'm here, I'm not going to let anything happen to Hogwarts or the students and staff within its walls. And Harry, you must give me some credit. Contrary to some students' collective belief that I'm an old bat, I am more than capable of defending myself in a crisis. I am rather good at magic, you know."

Harry let the chuckle that arose escape, yet tried and failed to muffle the sniff that forced its way through his nose. She was right, but then again, Professor McGonagall was almost always right. And it had taken him all this time to realize that she was right about another thing: that she had indeed been watching over him all the while. "Professor McGonagall, I have to tell you something. And this time, I do want to talk."

Professor McGonagall released her grip on him and stood back a step, allowing him room. "I'm listening, Harry."

Harry took a breath and released it slowly, searching for the right words to say. "I've been an idiot. Hear me out," he said when Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to object. "You've been here for me ever since the day I came to Hogwarts, and I've never once thanked you for everything you've done. I mean, you got me on the Quidditch team and bought me a broomstick for it, believed in me when nobody else would, and you even promised to help me become an Auror if it was the last thing you did."

"I'm sorry I haven't yet made good on that promise," Professor McGonagall said with an apologetic smile. "But I swear that the first spell I teach you will be one to turn Dolores Umbridge into the toad she looks like."

"Excellent. But really, Professor, it's taken me six years to realize that all this time, you were – are – watching over me. And honestly, now…" Harry took another deep breath, unsure of how she would react to the news he was about to drop. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, too, because you're like another mother to me. I don't know for sure if my own mother is still watching over me; how will I know that you'll always do the same?"

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes. When she opened them again, their blue depths were shining with unshed tears – and with new love. "Harry, look up there," she said, pointing back up to the stars they had both been gazing at just a short time ago. Harry followed her finger and heard her continue, "My mother once told me that the ones we love are always watching over us, and they're always guiding us until the day we join them again. Your mother has always been looking out for you, Harry, as will I. You don't have to be afraid to come to me, because I'll always be here."

Harry smiled. "That's good, because I'd miss you barking at me in Transfiguration if you weren't."

"Oh, you cheeky boy!" Professor McGonagall cuffed him on the head gently before cupping his chin in her hand. "I have no doubt you're tired of hearing this, but every time I see your face, I'm reminded of James. However, I see Lily in your eyes. She lives in you, Harry, because you have her spirit." Her hand slid downward to grasp his shoulder. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"When you were first born, your mother asked me to watch you from time to time. I loved the time I had with you, every minute, until that horrible night…" Harry waited for her to steel herself. "I was with Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid that night, when we left you with your relatives. I'd been watching them all day as a cat and I was horrified, as you can well imagine, but Dumbledore insisted that you would be better off with them, because of the protection offered by your mother's blood. Blood wards or no, if I'd had my way, I would have taken you myself, because I thought you deserved a better life than that. I wouldn't blame you if you're angry with me for not speaking up."

Harry thought about that. It was a daunting prospect, the thought that someone else could have raised him, taken him from a horrible life with the Dursleys, but after a moment of consideration, he realized that he harbored no resentment toward Professor McGonagall. "No, I'm not angry. As mad as it all sounds, you probably would have been killed by Voldemort's followers if you'd taken me in."

"I couldn't go against Dumbledore's orders, but after he and Hagrid left, I came back to the house. I transformed back into myself and just sat there holding you for the rest of the night, because I knew that would be the last time I would see you until you came to Hogwarts. The night you did, I wanted to hold you again, and so many times after. Last night in Dumbledore's office, all I wanted to do was hold you."

Warmed by the love held in the long-concealed secret, Harry offered his teacher and friend a smile. "You still can." He closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, catching the happy sigh that escaped her as her arms came around him. Now this was more like it. He couldn't remember feeling this good in so long.

"Oh, my boy." Professor McGonagall loosened the hug slightly to meet his gaze. "Now that I've got you, I'm tempted never to let you go."

"I'll be fine, as long as I've got you to watch over me."

"You can count on it." She smiled. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you too, Professor."

"Minerva."

Harry's eyebrows all but flew up into his hair. Had he heard her correctly? "Are you serious?"

"That was your godfather, Harry. You heard what my name is."

Unable to stop himself from laughing at the remark, Harry grinned at her. "I love you too… Minerva." Someone to watch over him and love him really did feel wonderful.