A/N I forgot a disclaimer earlier. I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, their universe, or the plot of JK Rowling's wonderful books. ….Or the movies.

Please review and let me know what you think.

McGonagall gave the password to the statue guarding the Headmistress's office stoically, "Serpens." After sensing Draco's confusion, she added, "Severus's idea of a sound password, may he rest in peace. My first order of business, after our meeting, is to change the password, and move all my personal items into the office."

Draco nodded to show he was listening, but didn't feel he had much to add to the conversation. He followed her up the spiral staircase, through the door and sat himself down in the chair opposite the large desk.

Draco had briefly been in the office very early in the year, on Death Eater business. Death Eater business, to him, meant that his father felt like a chat with Snape and forced Draco to tag along. Anyway, Draco recognized that the office had changed very little since Dumbledore's reign. McGonagall noticed as well.

"He seems to have kept things mostly as Albus had them, which works well for us, because that means I'll know where everything is."

She wasn't bothered by Draco's non-response. "I'd offer you tea, but I haven't quite figured out how to make it in here without resorting to asking the house elves. Unfortunately, they've all been given the year off. Too much temptation for them—they'd want to right the school, but wouldn't understand that magic must not be used."

That made sense to Draco. House elves were forever feeling guilty for leaving things unfinished; they would feel obligated to try to help fix the school.

"So, where should we start Professor?"

"First of all, let's begin with first names. Here it is just the two of us, and I'd like to feel like we are equals. Neither of us is going to have any friends to talk to—we'll only have each other. In this case, I'd like it if you would call me Minerva."

Draco tried to hide his reaction by examining his fingernails, a fact that didn't get passed McGonagall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile fondly at him. Since when did McGona—Minerva—ever smile fondly at him?

"Alright. You've already been calling me Draco, anyway, so I guess I can call you—erm, Minerva."

"Good. Moving on, we both have places to sleep so we don't need to start there. However, we also have no house elves which means we're going to have to start with the kitchens. The magically filling storage cabinets will most likely still be working, I doubt if any of the fighting got that far into the school."

"Seems a little ridiculous to tickle the pear in the middle of a battle, anyway." Draco agreed.

"Yes, certainly. So let's begin there. Now, following the kitchens, we'll need to sort out the Great Hall. That's where most of the damage is and will probably take us the longest. What are your thoughts, Draco?" She asked, as he had begun getting a bit antsy and had something to say.

"I was just thinking we should add a memorial to the fallen, and maybe even a death plaque. All the people who died deserve for posterity to know why they died." He stated as though he were defying someone, which in a way he was.

He hadn't looked at her while he said it, though, so when he looked up a few seconds later to see how she took it, he was surprised to see that fond smile again.

"You know, Draco, it would have killed me during your tenure here at Hogwarts to admit that you were one of my two favorite students, but when you start saying things like that it's harder to care what the other houses would say at a Slytherin being my favorite." She said.

Was this whole surreal experience ever going to snap back into a normal universe? "Shh, don't tell anyone though."

Draco just gaped at her. To overcome his embarrassment, he doubled back to their plan. "After we've finished the Great Hall, we'd have to do student dorms. I hear Gryffindor and Ravenclaw in particular are pretty messed up. Then, students can't come back until the classrooms are finished, otherwise, where would they learn? So, those would follow." He really started to get into it then, and rode this train of thought. "After that, we'd need to do the auxiliary learning things, like the greenhouses and the library. After that'd just be whatever else needs to be touched up. Then you can re-apply the wards."

"Sounds good to me, Draco. Now, on to another topic that needs to be discussed. What are you planning on doing after the school is finished?"

"Erm, I guess I hadn't thought that far ahead, Headmistress."

"Minerva."

"Right. Minerva."

"And why haven't you? You need a plan, boy."

"Well, I guess because my plan consisted of me staying out of the Dark Lord's way while he rose to power and trying to stay alive as long as possible while inflicting as little pain as possible."

"Yes, well, that's no longer in your future thanks to Mr. Potter."

"I've only had a few hours to let it soak in, you know. Give me a bit to think on it."

"Fair enough. I'll ask you again in a week."

The two then spoke a bit longer about the logistics of cleaning house. How they would physically place the heavier items where they needed to go. Minerva looked at his sickly thin frame and suggested that maybe they look into muggle means. Draco took slight offense to that, but couldn't disagree. Minerva was too polite to come out and say it, though both of them were thinking it: Draco would not be strong enough to life the thousands of stone bricks that needed to be replaced back into the walls.

A few hours later found them knee deep in debris in the kitchens. Though their assumption that no one had broken into the kitchens was correct, the kitchens' re-stocking storage cupboards were organized so willy nilly by the house elves, that they would never be able to find what they were looking for. Thus, the two had spent the better part of the afternoon organizing the cupboards and trying to figure out how to cook the items.

"Look." Draco said, "This one says 'just add water.' But, how are we supposed to know how much water to add?"

Minerva shrugged, her own background giving her just enough knowledge to visit muggle-born students' parents but not enough to survive without magic.

"I guess we'll figure it out." She replied, too blasé for Draco's tastes.

"Won't that be quite the adventure." He mumbled under his breath.

A while later, a thought jumped into Draco's head. Why hadn't he thought of this before? "Minerva?"

"Yes, dear" He heard coming from his right, the older woman in the middle of trying to determine the difference between milk and condensed milk.

"Why can't we use magic to make the food? If the wards are only affected by magic used to alter the structure of Hogwarts, why can't we use magic to cook the food? Food doesn't have anything to do with walls."

The Headmistress looked thoughtful for a moment. Draco was still taken aback that she was taking his opinions and suggestions into consideration at all. No other adult in his life thus far had truly given him the respect of considering what he was saying. Everyone from his parents, to his godfather, to the Dark Lord, to his other teachers just pretended to listen and then did whatever they were going to do anyway. McGonagall, however, was actually listening to him. She would use her own way if she truly thought it was better, but gave credence to his thoughts as well. If his idea was the better, she was not afraid to admit it. He admired that about her.

"Yes, dear. You know, I hadn't even thought of it like that. I guess I got a bit excited about learning to do the cooking without magic, that I got a bit ahead of myself." She gave a quick laugh, and rolled her eyes at herself. Draco had never seen her this relaxed, and that of all that had happened in the last few h ours with her, made him the most uneasy. McGonagall was never relaxed.

"That's quite alright." The something in him that wanted to please her then spoke without his permission. "If you want, we can probably find time to cook it the muggle way every once in a while."

A true smile spread across her face then. It turned her strict, prim face into that of a completely different woman, a woman about thirty years younger.

"You're absolutely right, Draco. I would love that. We are never too old to learn something new. Remember that."

And that was the first of many lessons she taught him the first year.