Disclaimer: Property of J.K Rowling.

Summary: 'You believe in no one.' 'I believe in you.' After becoming Hogwarts' Headmistress, Professor McGonagall and Mad-Eye Moody have a talk.

Pairing: Gen, but if you squint really hard it could be McGonagall/Moody because I'm weird like that.

Spoilers: Up to Half-Blood Prince – but honestly, who hasn't read it yet?

Grain of sand

The still waters of the lake glimmer under the last rays of sunset, the green leaves of the trees in the forest tremble softly in the evening's breeze, a lonely star sparkles in a distant horizon. Night is descending upon the castle and its grounds. The beauty of it is simply breathtaking. The sight is so perfect, so peaceful, that whomever contemplates it can forget there is a war raging outside, taking the lives of dozens, tearing families and friends apart. One could forget there is a war that is burning to ashes the world that took them so long to rebuild.

Minerva McGonagall can't forget.

She sinks down in the chair that still does not feel quite hers, just like this office doesn't feel quite hers, even though the gargoyle has let her enter and even though portraits and teachers follow her commands, this position doesn't feel quite hers either. During the day she pulls through stoically, reassuring her students, guiding her subordinates, attending to the castle's every need. At nightfall, though, her iron armour starts to creak around the edges as doubt and fear creep their way in.

'I don't think I can do this.'

The words that have been pounding in her mind since that fateful night, when everybody turned to her for support and guidance, the words that she's tried to erase so fiercely, the words that fill her nightmares are finally out there in the open. For a moment she hopes that saying them out loud will at last lift the heavy weight that has set on her shoulders since that terrible night, that it will bring her some relief.

It doesn't.

'Nonsense. There's no one better than you for the job.'

She looks at the man standing by the window, his strange, desfigured profile outlined by the dying light pouring through the glass, half of his face obscured by shadows.

'You know I am not him.'

'You don't have to be.' He turns his head towards her: his blue eye twists in its place, staring at only Merlin knows what, but his black eye makes contact with hers and there's a fierce intensity in that dark gaze that cannot be easily matched. 'You have what it takes.'

She sighs, tired. She would like to believe his words. She can't.

'I am not as powerful, nor as wise as he was. Half of the time I feel like I'm walking in the dark, not knowing which way to turn. He… he always knew what to do.'

'He made mistakes too, Minerva.'

His words feel like a slap across her face and she leaps to her feet, her breathing ragged and her eyes flashing.

'If you're talking about Snape…' She spits the last word with venom, her tone corrosive because there are certain wounds that cannot heal. 'If you're saying he made a mistake by trusting him then I'm no better than Albus, because I was foolish enough to believe in Snape as well.'

Every word she says it's true and it feels like poison scorching through her veins. Because in spite of his past, in spite of his obscure ways and his relaxed morals, she believed in him. Not only because she thought Albus had an iron-clad reason to believe in him, but because through the years she had learnt to respect the twisted, dark man who was willing to go to any length to accomplish what needed to be done, who would sacrifice anything for the cause. A man who, in spite of being bitter, resentful and unkind, still was in their side. A man she could trust.

A man who had betrayed them all and who she shall never forgive, as she will never forgive herself for being so blind.

He shakes his head slowly and takes a step towards her, his expression displaying a softness most people would never associate with him.

'You weren't the only one who was fooled by his double-act. Everybody believed him.'

'Not you.' She nearly spits the words in anger, but she can no longer tell who is her fury direceted at. At him, for being right when they were all wrong, at Snape, for his betrayal, at herself, for her foolishness, at Albus, for his need to believe in people despite all proof to the contrary. Perhaps that is the reason the following words escape her mouth before she can stop them.

'But then, you believe in no one.'

She wishes she could take those words back as soon as they leave her lips, but it's too late. Silence stretches between them as he stands very still for a moment, until his blue eye turns round and fixes upon her.

'I believe in you.'

Her eyes widen, surprised beyond words at the burning sincerity she sees in his eyes.

'Why?'

She can't honestly see why he, who sees conspiracies everywhere, who trusts nobody, would believe in her, when most of the time she is questioning herself. As though he could hear her thoughts, he walks towards her, circling the desk, and takes her hand between his.

'I believe in you because you're strong, even though you don't see your strength yourself. I believe in you because you keep your North when everybody else is lost. You put things in perspective and are able to make the right choice even though it's the hard one.'

The intensity in his eyes burns holes in hers, but she cannot look away.

'You distinguish between right and wrong and you're not afraid to follow the path you must. You listen to people and you're able to guide them in their hour of need, you're compassionate and firm, your heart and your head are in the right place…'

He holds her hand tighter, and the warmth his calloused skin gives her seems to spread through her body.

'You are you, and to me that's more than enough.'

Their eyes are locked and she finds that it's easier to breath, that her chest no longer feels constricted by fear and self-doubt, that the heavy weight she's been carrying since Dumbledore's death, even though it hasn't been lifted off her shoulders, is now bearable. Her hands turn and she interwines her fingers with his.

'I believe in you too, Alastor.'

He looks surprised at first, but then something that to most people would look like a grimace but she knows it's a smile lits up his face.

Their hope might be a grain of sand in an hourglass where time is slipping away too fast, their efforts might be as insignificant as the flickering light of a candle in the middle of the fiercest storm. But even the faintest light shines intensely in the darkest hour and they don't let go of each other as night falls around them.