Barring unforseen issues arising in the writing of the next chapter, it shall be the last one, with perhaps an epilogue. Thank you so much for all of the faithful readers who have followed this story! I am also spending some time contemplating my next story. :)

Snape dismissed his last class, wondering how Harry was going to be with him that afternoon. He had an hour before Harry was done with classes for the day, and he found himself at a loss. Harry had been wooden and frozen still in class, not looking at anybody and not paying attention either. The only response he got out of the boy was a slight nod when he reminded him to come to his quarters after his last class. Would he have to resort to consulting a mind healer for the boy?

"Professor Snape," he heard a stern Scottish voice rap out. "I wish a word with you."

"Of course, Professor McGonagall," he replied, his voice overly polite, though he was surprised to see her. "Would you care for tea?"

"That isn't necessary," she told him, nodding curtly. "But appreciated. I assume you have a moment to chat?"

"Of course," Snape agreed, his wonder at what brought her to his classroom overcoming his lack of desire for social contact. "I will call the elf."

"Good," she agreed. "I am sure you're wondering what brings me here."

"I do find myself wondering a bit, Professor," Snape admitted, seating himself by the small table that was suddenly burdened with a teapot and a plate of biscuits. The Hogwarts house elves were nothing if not incredibly efficient. "You have never sought my company like this before."

"Perhaps not," she agreed. "But I do think there is a story you are overdue to hear."

"You have my complete attention, Madame," Snape nodded at her.

"Perhaps tea first," she directed, her voice having just the slightest tone of criticism. "We are civilized, you know."

"How do you take your tea?" he asked her calmly, forcing the curiosity out of his mind and voice.

"White with no sugar," she told him, watching him pour the tea as if they had tea together every week. "Sugar ruins the flavor."

"With the niceties attended to," he told her with slight sarcasm, passing her the cup that was ridiculously painted on the side with violets. Truly, did the house elves have no decorum? "Perhaps we should get on with it?"

"It has to do when you were in school," the Professor began, smiling slightly at his honesty. Pomona would never believe that she had a polite afternoon tea with the snarly, snappy head of Slytherin. "It has to do with the time that Sirius Black played a very cruel joke on you, one that could have ended in your death had it not been for the timely intervention of James Potter."

"I believe that I remember the incident," Snape answered, his eyes flashing. Of course he remembered, that was the pinnacle of their cruelty to him. It also left him with a great fear of werewolves; Professor McGonagall wasn't kidding in that the incident could have ended in his death. And it still rankled a bit that James Potter was the one that had saved him as well, it had given him less ammunition for his hatred of him.

"I believe I told you previously that I did punish the Marauders on occasion, but I would like to give you more details into that particular event," she told him. "Unless you'd rather not hear?"

"I believe I would be interested in this information," he responded, finding himself intensely curious. He sat back with his own cup of tea, black with two lumps. He normally took his tea like Professor McGonagall did, not liking sugar much himself. But at her prim comment about sugar in tea he felt a perverse urge to have his tea opposite to the head of Gryffindor. However, now he regretted it a bit, the sickly sweet of the sugar really did overpower the taste of the tea.

"After the . . . incident, Sirius black was quite upset," she explained. "Albus gave him a proper scolding the night of the incident, but had decided to leave the consequences up to his head of house. Sirius knew that I was going to discuss his discipline the following evening, and that entire day he spent frozen and unfeeling. I believe that a large part of what led to him being in this state was his guilt."

"Guilt?" Snape asked, incredulous. "I thought it would have been his disappointment that I wasn't torn limb from limb or perhaps turned into a werewolf myself."

"And what would have happened if you had been?" she asked sharply. "His best friend would have been arrested and likely executed. Let alone himself – there could have been a verra good case made for aiding a murderer. Had James not actually worked out the cause and effect in the situation, his best friend could have faced death and his other best friend could have faced Azkaban. All for a prank."

"It was bad enough to hardly be called a prank," Snape agreed darkly.

"I agree with you," McGonagall nodded. "But even without Legilimency, I can tell a lad that is lying. And it was verra clear that he meant to scare you, not kill you. It was a cruel and dangerous prank that could have had far worse implications than he had anticipated. James Potter dressed him down harshly when he returned to the dorms, and when Remus awoke the next day Sirius' actions were felt by him as a very deep betrayal. Remus was crushed by the actions of his friend, and worse yet Sirius knew he was right. In the span of less than a day Sirius Black received censure from the people that he would wholeheartedly say that he loved the most."

"And so you punished him?" Snape asked incredulously. "I would think you would have given him a cuddle if your precious Gryffindor was so upset. He must have had quite the time of it, trying to kill someone and getting scolded for it."

"He needed a punishment that fit his actual crime, not the unintended consequences," she replied firmly, ignoring Snape's sarcasm. "If he had gotten the one he perhaps deserved for where his actions could have led, he would have been in Azkaban. But I gave him the one he deserved for his intentions, as I believed was just."

"How is that different?" Snape asked venomously.

"You more than anyone should know the answer to that," she quipped. "I believe you have punished yourself for years due to the results of your actions rather than your intentions."

"How much has that bloody old coot told you?" Snape blazed.

"It doesn't take a Legilimens to see these things," she quipped. "It just takes a keen eye and some applied logic. Both of which I possess; Dumbledore rarely finds it necessary to tell me much at all."

"So what good does it do to punish the intention?" he asked, sounding for the first time a bit unguarded.

"Intentions are what we control," she answered. "I could invite dear Pomona Sprout to tea, and my intentions would be to have a nice chat with an old friend and enjoy some biscuits together. But what if she encounters something harmful along the way, and perhaps breaks a bone? Am I responsible?"

"Of course not," Snape replied, understanding.

"Of course not," she agreed, taking another biscuit. She enjoyed matching wits with such a worthy adversary. "I meant only good to my friend, not harm. Though it is true that she would not have been hurt had I not invited her to tea, her being hurt was clearly not my intention. Even if I had meant some harm, and was inviting her to yell at her or to play a mean prank to her, I am still not morally responsible if something other than my intentions happened accidently. Nobody can predict the hundreds of actions that could befall someone in those circumstances."

"I understand," Snape nodded slowly.

"And a hug would hardly have sufficed for a lad feeling that guilty," she admonished, addressing his earlier comment. "He knew he deserved punishment, and so I obliged. I believe he felt much better afterwards, or at least after a bit when he could sit comfortably again. And it helped him make it up to his friends as well, I believe they felt some sympathy for him after he received his due."

"The cane?" Snape asked acerbically.

"No so cruel as that," she gave a quick shake of her head. "I have never used that on a student. He got the strap."

Snape sat on that information. In reality, it surprised him; he had not realized that McGonagall would take such a strong line with her pupils. Although it shouldn't have surprised him as much, remembering the incident in which he had pretended to cane Harry last year and she gave him her approval. "You said he was like Harry? In shock?"

"Yes, he was," she nodded. "But all the coddling in the world would not have helped. The child knew he had done something wrong, and he couldn't cope with that. I helped him cope with the guilt."

"Are you saying that's what I should do with Harry?" he asked, surprised. Just when he thought he had this woman figured out.

"I will not interfere with a man and his ward," she told him briskly. "But anyone can see that he needs something."

"He does feel guilty about going, even when I had told him not to go," Snape realized. "He knows that if he hadn't gone against what I had ordered then Sirius Black would still be alive."

"But that wasn't his fault," she agreed. "And I would also tell you, Severus Snape, that I also did comfort Sirius Black afterwards. He was afraid that he was evil; that the incident was his true nature and the nature of his family coming through. He thought that I would not want him in my house anymore."

"But that man is . . . was a Gryffindor if ever there was one," Snape shook his head.

"Which is exactly what I told him," she nodded. "Children feel most vulnerable when they are being disciplined, especially if they deserve it. He needed the discipline, surely, but he needed the reassurance more than anything. But he couldn't hear the reassurance until after he felt as if he'd paid for his misdeed."

"I see," he replied.

"You also have to think about what you could be communicating if you don't discipline him," McGonagall told him firmly. "Perhaps that he's too delicate? That there aren't consistent boundaries? That you can't be trusted?"

"I see what you're saying, and I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention," Snape told her, setting down his teacup. He was beginning to formulate a plan for how he was going to interact with Harry this evening. "And I thank you for your sound advice."

"Thank you for being receptive," McGonagall nodded, setting her teacup down as well. "You may not believe this, Professor, but I was very gratified when you took my advice, quite belatedly, and became Mr. Potter's guardian. He has done well under your care."

"Thank you, Professor," he told her sincerely as they both got up. "I can tell how much you care for the boy as well."

"Yes, well, I'm sure you have a busy afternoon ahead of you, I won't keep you," she straightened her skirts and headed for the door with a twinkle in her eye. "We should have these chats more often, Severus. I find myself enjoying your company."

And with that, the head of Gryffindor left the room, leaving the head of Slytherin very taken aback indeed and not even being able to formulate a reply until she was well away. Did she say such outrageous things just to get a rise out of him? How dare she suggest that they have regular tea parties! The very idea!

But in all seriousness, he did have to deal with Harry. He knew Professor McGonagall well enough to know she was probably right, that Harry was in a frozen state induced by guilt, much as Sirius Black had been. And she was probably right about the cure as well. He had to admit to himself that he would just rather focus on helping the child grieve, but what if she was right about what he would be communicating if he didn't address this with Harry? Could him accepting censure for his actions actually help him grieve? He felt a little overwhelmed by how much this parenting thing really did differ from being a head of house.

. . .

Snape watched Harry enter his quarters that afternoon with no trepidation at all, just wooden motions. Harry sat himself on the sofa, looking down, as if waiting for the world to fall down around him. Snape could see that it might have to.

"We have several things that I want to discuss this afternoon," Snape told him firmly. "And also more when your friends get here after dinner. Do you have any preferences on where to start?"

Harry shrugged his answer, not looking up.

"Would you like to discuss the Dark Lord possessing you? The revelation that Sirius Black killed Umbridge? The duel between the Dark Lord and Dumbledore?"

Again, he got another shrug. Professor McGonagall was right, though Snape would have much preferred a discussion first. But Harry was in no place for that discussion now.

"Very well, perhaps we should start with your direct disobedience in going to the Ministry," Snape sternly rapped.