I feel like this is kind of short, but oh well. I think it's coming along nicely. I want to say a very amazed thank you for all the reviews, C2 communities, favorites and alerts that this story has been subjected to. It's delightfully overwhelming for such a new story!

Disclaimer: The standard one applies. No, really.

Minerva McGonagall was a stern, stately woman.

She was known for being a no-nonsense teacher and administrator in her position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had guided generations of students into illustrious (and not so illustrious) careers. She was, for all intents and purposes, second in command at Hogwarts. She had power, and she wielded it with responsibility that is rare in any society.

Which is a good thing, because the first in command at Hogwarts was Albus Dumbledore, and he was a little barmy.

It was a couple of weeks into the summer break at Hogwarts, and McGonagall was worrying herself over the youngest member of the Hogwarts staff: Severus Snape.

"Albus," she said unhappily at lunch one day, "did Severus happen to tell you why he chose to go home for the summer this year?"

"No, my dear." Dumbledore replied cheerfully. "Perhaps he wanted some time to himself?"

McGonagall frowned. Snape wasn't fooling her—she knew he hated the house he had grown up in, and only kept it because he was too frugal (read: cheap) to buy a new house on his Hogwarts salary. He rarely went there at all, and he hadn't spent more than a week there since he had been a student at Hogwarts himself. It had only been a couple of years since the young man had been released from his stay in Azkaban for being a Death Eater, and he had been prone to bouts of depression lately in what was presumed to be a side-effect of exposure to dementors. McGonagall was, to be honest, a little worried that his depression had turned into something a little more harmful.

"Have you thought to check on him? Perhaps give him a firecall and see how he's doing?"

"I'm sure he's fine, Minerva. He's quite old enough to take care of himself, don't you think?"

Actually, McGonagall did not think so, and immediately made plans to drop in on Spinner's End and make sure her former student was all right.

When she arrived at the house (equipped with her world-famous tea biscuits as a peace offering), she was surprised to hear what could have been…happy noises coming from inside. She made a snap decision to forego knocking and instead let herself in quietly. The sight that met her eyes was one that she would probably never forget, and also one that she would probably never stop giggling at.

In her mind, of course. Minerva McGonagall was a very stately, stern woman, and she did not giggle. Out loud.

Inside the small house, Snape and what looked like a miniature James Potter were, to take words from Snape's mouth, "waging a glorious war on dirt, dust, and grime".

Snape and little James were wearing identical white aprons and were both clutching dust rags and spray bottles of what appeared to be cleaning solution. On their feet, in a manner that would have made Bugs Bunny proud, were attached giant sponges that also happened to be sopping wet and very soapy.

McGonagall stared in open-mouthed disbelief as Snape glided in front of what could only be Harry Potter and punched his dust rag-laden hand into the air. "Tell me, little person, what characteristics are we trying to achieve?"

"Dedication, loyalty, and hard work!" little Harry cheered back, waving his dust rag happily at Snape.

McGonagall knew she had to be hearing things, but she could have sworn there was what sounded like an epic orchestral movie soundtrack translated to men's humming chorus playing in the background.

"That's right," praised Snape, "very good. And do you know what we're going to do now?"

Little Harry beamed. "Take out the oppressive underbelly of the cleaning world and make our way into a bright new future!"

"Yes! And extra points for under the furniture!"

"Extra points for under the furniture!" echoed Harry eagerly.

"Tally ho!"

"Let's kick some dirt bum!" squeaked Harry excitedly, and zoomed off on his sponge skates to eliminate some scum.

"Oooh, I like that one. Kick some dirt bum…" Snape muttered to himself thoughtfully as he turned to tackle the stack of dishes in the kitchen sink, which appeared to be pulsing.

As he turned, he happened to catch sight of McGonagall, who had managed to get her mouth shut but still looked a little stunned.

There was an intensely awkward moment during which the two adults just stared at each other, not unlike the stare a deer and the headlights of a car might share.

In the end, it was Snape who broke the silence. "I suppose you want to know why I've got the spawn of James Potter running about in my house?"

Somewhere in the Great Beyond, James Potter scowled. "Harry is not my spawn! He's my son!"

"Hush!" snapped his wife.

"Yes," said McGonagall, "I would rather like to know that." Then, as an afterthought, "I brought tea biscuits."

"Delightful!" gasped Snape.

It was at this point that McGonagall realized that Severus Snape was not the same as he had been two weeks previous.

And she wasn't entirely sure it was a bad thing.