Harry stood at the entrance of what was left of the Great Hall and watched the scene before him, tears falling freely down his cheeks. All of the deceased were lying on cots, their friends and family holding one another as they stood around them. Everyone was crying, but there was a sort of silence that was eerie. Nobody sobbed or talked; they only stood in the silence and cried without a word. Never once had he felt more alone.

He had friends, of course; they had been there for him, fought for him, and some even died for him. Guilt overtook any sense of pride that defeating Voldemort had brought him. This guilt, he knew, would lessen as time went on, but it would never truly disappear. Ever since he was a boy he had longed for his parents to be around, but now as families stood together, he had never wanted them more. He had seen them and talked to them right before he had met his death, but that hadn't been enough to satisfy a quench lasting seventeen years.

His thoughts were interrupted when a hand touched his shoulder. Harry jumped, for he had thought that everyone was standing in front of him. Slowly he turned and met the familiar eyes of the new Headmistress. She smiled, a sad, lonely smile, and squeezed his shoulder. "Potter," she said hoarsely. He watched her as she swallowed hard. "Would you like to get out of here for a while?"

Minerva McGonagall was a very reserved woman; he could tell that just from her classes. She rarely opened herself to show fear or pain, and so her offer was something he couldn't refuse. He nodded and moved her hand from his shoulder, moving it so they could link arms. She twitched a little at this, otherwise didn't protest. "Yes. Thank you," he replied, beginning to walk with the older witch from the Great Hall. Neither looked back.

They began their walk in silence, but the silence wasn't eerie as it was in the Great Hall. This silence was one in which he felt comfortable, and he was sure she did to. McGonagall had done so much in the battle, and Harry realized that as a child he had never truly appreciated just how powerful of witch she was. Everyone spoke so highly of Dumbledore, but he knew the Deputy Headmistress was just as powerful as she had clearly demonstrated the past few hours. He had to smile ever so slightly to himself as he thought of the way she'd stood in solidarity with the students during Umbridge's time at Hogwarts. She had been the true voice for the students in that time, and she had certainly paid the price. If it hadn't been for her, then Hogwarts would have never stood a chance against Voldemort's forces. If it hadn't been for her, the dead would still be scattered across the courtyard. If it hadn't been for her, he'd still be standing alone.

He casually glanced beside him. Her face was scratched with cuts that still bled, although he was sure that she'd never go to Madame Pomfrey for help. She was far too stubborn. Dirt mixed with the blood and was hardening slowly. Her hair was long fallen from its usual constraints, and she seemed to be in no hurry to pull it back up. It was an odd picture to see his normally well put together teacher so disheveled. Her hair which was scattered across her shoulders was jet black, but a good amount of gray was mixed with it, and until that night it had never looked so gray before. Despite her age, he'd never thought of her as an old woman, she had served as his only maternal figure for all his school years, but the lines under her eyes revealed her age.

She was the first to break the silence as they walked past the ruins of the bridge and the stone fighters. "Potter, I, I um…thought that you might like to get away from all of that." Her voice was soft, and it had lost almost all signs of McGonagall's usual sharpness.

"Everyone seems to have family, some sort of family," he admitted. "I mean, I have the Weasleys, but sometimes they need time alone, without me butting in. They've done so much for me already." She simply nodded, not surprised by his words.

"Poppy is like a sister to me. Albus was the closest thing I had to family, and he's gone," she replied steadily. McGonagall didn't look at him, he suspected she was embarrassed. "It hurts. Times like this we are meant to be clinging to the ones we love, but when the ones we love are gone, or have never been there, it's hard." She said it as it was. There was no use in sugar coating anything. He had always admired that about her.

"Were you and Dumbledore um…together?" he asked without thinking. Her eyes widened at the question and he panicked, feeling like a child. "I'm so sorry…there were always rumors. I shouldn't have asked…"

"We were nothing of the sort," she replied, chuckling lightly, lighting the mood between them. "Albus was gay, but, we were best friends, and I think that sometimes that is a bond stronger than marriage can ever be. We spent a few holidays together, we'd play chess at night, and we did things that normal friends do. But, we had fun." She smiled sadly, lowering her gaze to the ground. "I always had fun with him. He was great deal older than I was, but age never mattered." She sighed, rubbing her temples. "But, Albus was out to save everyone with his plan for the 'Greater Good', and sometimes I think it did more damage than good. That made our friendship rocky towards the end. That, and the fact that he kept so much from me after the Umbridge incident. I used to tell him that, and we'd argue about it, but we always made up in the end." Once more she sighed, but this time she paused for a moment, staring at the ground for a good few moments until she muttered, "Merlin, I miss him."

"Professor I-,"

"Call me Minerva."

"But-,"

"Potter, you're hardly a child. You've seen things at ages that nobody should ever witness in a lifetime. I do believe that by now we are on a first name basis." Her voice was scolding, and, in a way, almost like her normal self. He found the switch rather comforting. It almost felt as if things could return to normal. "You're an adult, a man, and you may use my first name."

Harry nodded. "And yet you've still called me 'Potter'."

The corners of her mouth twitched as she laughed lightly and continued walking. "Force of habit I suppose." She rarely laughed, and he was glad that she was somewhat light spirited, well, as light as one could be after a war.

They continued to walk, both looking at what was left of the castle, neither talking, but he found that he didn't feel awkward. The silence was oddly relieving. They were together, and he knew that if he wanted to speak, she'd be there to listen. "Minerva," he began breaking the silence this time. Using her first name felt so odd. For seven years she had been Professor McGonagall. Now she was Minerva; now she was his equal.

They continued to walk in silence for a few moments, the sounds of concrete from the parts of the destroyed castle hitting the ground making up the background noise of their stroll. Harry couldn't stop thinking about what she had been through. Her and Dumbledore had been through two wizarding wars together and it had always been clear they were close. She'd lost her best friend. Harry knew what that was like. As much as it still pained the boy to think about Sirius's death, at least he knew he died a hero. He bit his lip, realizing McGonagall had no idea what had truly happened to Dumbledore. And though he wasn't sure if they had ever been friends, she deserved to know the truth about Snape. Everyone did. "You deserve to know about Dumbledore's death," he said breaking the silence.

The woman next to him exhaled deeply and a scowl overtook her face. "I am quite aware of what Snape did, Harry. Clarification is hardly necessary."

Harry stopped their movements abruptly, knowing that the man deserved his name to be cleared. He had no idea how he was going to do it, but he figured McGonagall was the best start. "Snape didn't do it," he said, his voice cracking. "I mean he did it…but…Dumbledore…he asked him to."

Minerva had walked slightly ahead of him, but at this she stopped dead in her tracks and turned around. She wrapped her arms around herself, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Harry couldn't ever remember seeing her cry. "What?" was all she managed to ask, her voice quiet and weak.

Harry took a deep breath and knew he had to explain it to her. His memory was still foggy from the trauma of the day, but he wanted to make sure he remembered everything about Snape. The man may have made his life hell, but he was a damn brave man and somebody needed to know- somebody important, like McGonagall. "Snape died at the Shrieking Shack during the battle. Voldemort killed him because he believed that Snape held the power of the Elder Wand since he had killed Dumbledore."

"But he did kill—,"

"Yes, but Draco disarmed him that night, so before I later disarmed Draco, the wand was his. It never belonged to Snape." Taking a pause, Harry watched as she processed what he was saying. "Snape was never truly loyal to Voldemort. Since right before my parents' death, he was working as a spy for Dumbledore. Snape had been in love with my mother, you see. He agreed to it to protect her, but…it didn't work." His own voice fell at this, thinking about the warmness he had felt right before he had sacrificed himself- the warmness of having both of them there, talking to him. He longed for it back.

Minerva sunk down onto a remnant of what had once been the bridge. "I remember that night. I remember seeing Severus that night. I was with him; he was so distraught. I always knew he had loved Lily…we all knew. But, I had just thought he'd changed sides…you're saying he was a…double agent?"

"Yes. Dumbledore was using Snape for information from Voldemort. Snape continued to pledge his allegiance to Voldemort for-,"

"The greater good," Minerva finished bitterly. "God damn that man and his greater good bullshit."

Harry could sense that she and Dumbledore had had it out about this before. Unsure of what else to say, he continued. "About two years ago Dumbledore tried on the ring Horcrux of Tom Riddle. This put a curse on his hand, and he would eventually die from it. Snape was able to slow the curse, but not prevent death. Meanwhile, Dumbledore found out that Draco was sentenced to kill him, and he asked Snape to do it. This would ensure that he had the full trust of Voldemort and that Draco wouldn't have to live with that death." When he stopped talking, he looked over at Minerva and tears were running down her cheeks, her hand covering her mouth as small sobs came ever so softly from her.

The former student felt awkward, but he sat down next to her and put an arm on the small of her back and began to rub small circles. He couldn't imagine the last time anyone had been there for her. She was always the rock for all of them. Until she sat, crying before him, he had never truly appreciated the strength in her. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," she managed to squeak out through her crying which was now mixed with hiccupping.

"Don't be sorry," he assured her, reaching out and moving his hand to her arm.

"I'm so sorry you are seeing me this way," she replied quietly, her sobbing beginning to subside. "I'm Head of your house, I need to compose myself."

"I thought that we were equals? You said it yourself, and as equals I do believe that we can both seek help when we need it from each other."

She made no reply to this, pulling slightly away from Harry. Her cheeks had blushed red. "Merlin…Severus," she mumbled. "I can't believe that I never knew…all the things I said to him…the pain he must have been in all this time with nobody to talk to…"

"You didn't know. Nobody knew," he reassured her.

"Quidditch rivals or not, we truly were friends," she admitted. When he was younger, Harry had always just believed the two Heads of houses hated each other. But, as he matured he could tell that there was some sort of friendliness between them. Snape had been the one there when he had returned from St. Mungo's. "The man was acting out of bravery and I'm afraid I've disgraced him."

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. "You were defending yourself, and most importantly all of us. Nobody blames you, and I'm sure Snape would never." Silence fell between them. "You know, as a kid, we always assumed you two hated each other. It's nice to know that there was a friendship there…as weird as it is to think from a student's perspective. He wasn't exactly the nicest person. You two aren't what I would think of as friendship material."

"Albus trusted Severus ever since he came back to teach, and so naturally I believed his judgment. It took me quite a long time to trust him again, but in time, I did. Severus was a very complicated man to work with. At times he could be so very stubborn and sarcastic that trying to get a word in was nearly impossible. There were other times, however, where clashing heads with him was quite enjoyable. We had our Quidditch banter as I'm sure you witnessed on many accounts, but that was all in good fun. He was a very private man and for one to get into his trust enough for him to open the door to his world his hard. But, once he found you suitable, he would open the doors wide. I was one of the ones lucky enough to know him for what he was.

"On occasion we would have tea and talk about students, and testing, and school matters. But, there were other days when we would simply sit and play chess. We talked often, and he was very pleasurable to sit with. I know he was never pleasant to you, Harry, but to me he was a friend I could always count on. I think that at one point I could even say that I truly loved him, on terms of friendship of course, but, believe it or not I cared a great deal for him." A few tears slipped her eyes, but she simply wiped them away. "When I thought that he betrayed Albus, I just couldn't handle it. This was a man whom I had grown to care for, and he was a traitor. And now, you tell me different, it's so hard." Harry was sure that she was going to cry once more, but the Gryffindor restored as close to her normal composure as he was sure she could. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she insisted, sniffling slightly.

Harry smiled slightly at the thought of Snape and McGonagall having tea together. He wondered what the teachers talked about behind closed doors, especially the likes of those two. The Transfigurations professor was an interesting woman. "I'm sorry to drop all this on you…I just…I want his name cleared," he said, with the most confidence he had the entire time.

"Yes, Potter, as it should be." The elder woman stood and offered him a hand to do the same which he gladly accepted. "That shall be one of our first orders of business as we clean this place up."

A huge relaxation fell over Harry as she began to talk about plans to rebuild. Minerva McGonagall being in charge and keeping things together was familiar. It was a sign of normalcy beginning to return. Though, things would never ever be the same, he thought maybe they could be damn close. As the witch began to walk towards the demolished school, Harry grabbed her arm lightly to pull her towards him. "Professor-, Minera…thank you."

She nodded. "Anytime, Potter…Harry." They both chuckled. "Merlin, it is impressive what a good cry can do. I trust that you can keep this conversation to yourself?"

"Of course."

"Shall we make our way back and begin to assess the damage?"

"I'd like that," he agreed.

Offering his arm once more, Harry found she took it and he began walking back towards the Great Hall. Their walk back was silent. Both were beginning to take in their surroundings, calculating what was going to need to be done. The young man looked forward to rebuilding the school with one of the strongest women he had ever met.