A/N: Avid Readers, so sorry. I got distracted by the latest chapter of my other story, Saving Him, and then got lazy and forgot about this little piece. I'll keep more regular updates from now on. Promise.

I don't own anything. So don't sue.

Also, please put up with the shenanigans of Minerva and Draco, but their friendship needs to be well established for the rest of the story. Don't worry, we're about to get a peek at what old Hermione's been up to, also. Next chapter.

Months passed in that fashion. In the early days, they took breaks from their manual labor to research into muggle ways of fixing walls. Draco even went so far, at Minerva's insistence, to volunteer for a muggle construction company in order to be sure that they knew how to do it properly. He spent the entire week in equal parts fear and awe. He avoided giving himself away by playing the silent stranger part. Though he burned to ask questions—thousands of questions—about what they were doing, why, how it worked, he kept silent and acted like he already knew.

But when he got back to Hogwarts, he exhausted the meager Muggle Studies section of the still blemished library searching for his answers.

Once the two of them got the hang of it, Draco and Minerva spent hours together in the kind of quiet companionship that came from years of knowing each other. Not that they spent all their time in silence. Oftentimes, they could be found discussing Transfiguration Today, their favorite Transfiguration magazine. Occasionally they even delved into theory-based assumptions of combining the principles of Transfiguration with the other subjects—Potions being their favorite to discuss.

Minerva knew a surprising amount about Potions. Draco could never quite bring himself to ask her if she was interested in the subject, or if she took the "know thy enemy" approach with Snape a little too far. He wouldn't put it passed her.

During mealtimes, Minerva's own concoctions slowly getting closer to edible, they practiced for the upcoming N.E.W.T.s. Draco had until the first of February to prepare. That gave him a little under seven months to learn everything from his sixth year (that he barely remembers due to stress and apathy) and his seventh year.

They both felt he would ace his Transfiguration and Potions N.E.W.T.s already, with little guidance, but his Charms work was deplorable. In a fit of inspiration, Minerva made him eat entirely with his wand. He had to charm the food into small enough bites, then levitate it to his mouth. While this was ghastly for someone growing up in a very strict household where manners were revered even above the Dark Lord, Draco succumbed and eventually began to have fun while Minerva challenged him in different ways.

One memorable lunch, she had charmed all his food to be the wrong color, among other charms. Before he could eat, he had to identify each of them and tell her what he had eaten.

If he had told anyone that story, it would have sounded so ridiculous that they wouldn't have believed him. He wouldn't have believed him. But, somehow Minerva's stern-side had eroded away and he couldn't help but laugh at her "games."

Quickly she was becoming a beloved maternal figure—one that his own mother could never quite achieve. Whether that was due to Narcissa's inherent inability, or the dark cloud of the Dark Lord hovering over their Manor was up in the air.

But, regardless, Draco found himself depending on Minerva in a way he hadn't depended on an adult figure for years. He enjoyed knowing someone was watching over him—a keen eye meticulously tracking how many vegetables he was eating. No one ever cared if he had eaten enough broccoli. Though a large part of him knew he should hate the demotion of independence, the other part of him basked in it and said to hell with independence, for now.

The two of them were healing—slowly—and right now she was all the help he had, more than he thought he'd wind up with when he was up on the Astronomy Tower so many hard months ago. She fussed over him, challenged him, wound him up, and there was no denying all that. But she was also there to catch him when he fell.

It was her maternal embrace that comforted him after his nightmares, it was her flattery that coaxed his ego back into place, and it was her encouragement and belief in him that kept him getting up in the mornings. Not to mention the whole harboring-him-illegally thing.

Yes, Minerva was his entire support system. But it went both ways. Draco saw more of her emotional side than he thought anyone had…possibly ever. Minerva McGonagall was well known for her propriety and straight-laced attitude. She fought voraciously for her 'cubs,' as Dumbledore called her charges, but she hid her surplus emotions just as well as the most stoic of Slytherins.

In that way, Draco could definitely relate to her. Thinking of her suppressed emotions as a Slytherin trait allowed him to figure out a good way of helping her release them. He knew she was hurting over the war—losing so many good friends. Not to mention the guilt of treating Snape so horribly the entire last year when he was almost single-handedly winning the war (well, Potter did help a little, he supposed). All the guilt and grief were building up inside her and she wouldn't let them out for months.

Draco knew from experience that those emotions would eventually explode out like a volcano, all toxic fumes and rock so hot it was liquid. Theodore Nott was once such type that suppressed emotion. One day in fifth year, he had kept so many things inside for so long that he ended up destroying the Slytherin Common Room and half of his own sanity. He still tried to talk to his socks sometimes. Draco would not let Minerva McGonagall end up talking to her own socks just because she couldn't allow herself to let go of some of her pain.

A month before his upcoming trial, he could sense her unrest rise exponentially and decided it was finally time to act. But she broke before his plan could even be put into action.

He met up with her in the kitchens, already laid out with their usual fare—he had cooked her eggs himself. She walked in a few minutes later than their usual meeting time. Draco immediately knew something was up with her, something was…off… about her aura.

She looked up into his eyes, and his heart broke for her. The pain built up too much and seeped insidiously into her grey eyes. Her grief was tangible. Without much forethought, Draco bounded across the large kitchens to grab her into a hug. She put up no resistance, melting into his embrace, almost as if he had granted her permission to break down by acknowledging her weakness. She sobbed.

He had never had to comfort a sobbing woman before in his entire eighteen years. But this was Minerva, and so he followed her example. When she had found him sobbing earlier in their adventure, she had comforted him excellently—no false platitudes or unwanted advice. She was just there for him, so now he would be here for her.

"Remus and Tonks… th-th-they're gone. Just gone." She choked out, unaware she was even talking. "And the Creevy boy. And F-F-Fred. Oh, Fred! I n-n-n-never told h-him, but I a-a-adored his j-j-jokes. Called me M-M-M-Minnie, he d-did." She went on, lamenting the dead, freeing them by talking about them.

He ran his hand over her back soothingly, whispering anything that struck him. Phrases like "Cry for them, Minerva," and "let it out, you're all right with me" flew off his tongue in a manner that surprised him. He actually sounded soothing.

A minute, an hour, or a day went by until she began to calm down. "I feel the worst about S-Severus, Draco."

"I know you do, Minerva." She looked surprised.

"How could you know that, boy?"

"I know you." She gave him a half-hearted glare that did nothing to him, her tear soaked face wasn't menacing in the least. But, he did feel a bit sorry for her right now so he gave in. "And I've been observing you. There's not much else to look at and take notice of here, you know. You may not even notice some of the things you do, but they say a lot about your thoughts. You go out of your way to avoid talking about him. Even when we talk about my school days, you say 'your head of house,' or some other way of saying his name. 'The Potions Professor.' But, what really gave you away was how you fixed his spot in the Great Hall. You'll remember that I left you to sort the Head Table, while I began the House Tables. When you did the repairs to his chair and spot at the table, before he was Headmaster, mind, you did it with such reverence and guilt on your face. I wasn't even aware that combination could occur. The things you teach me, eh Minerva?"

She looked sheepish, "You're a lot smarter than you put on, Draco."

"But you already knew that." He responded with a smile, finding them easier to come by as time went on.

"Come along boy, let's eat. Then we have work to do." And just like that the fearsome Headmistress was back.