DISCLAIMER: see earlier parts.

A/N: This is it! Thanks to everyone who stuck through to the end. I hope you enjoyed it. There will likely be a lull for awhile while I try to sort through my notebook and find a scribble that I want to expand on, but I'm still here!

Stocktonwood: Thank you! I hope I can manage to convert you; McGonagall is a wonderful character.

Mon, Morothewolfgod, lilyqueen777, LinZE, Lilith11, bookwmnjan: Thank you.

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Just before dinner that day, I reclined on a chaise in my bedroom to examine my seventh years' final essays. They had secured my spirits somewhere above the Tower, as well-written assignments did. Nothing convinces a teacher of her potency like students who do their work with heart. Nothing reassures me that I've made the right choices in my life like a thoughtfully penned footnote. My chest felt much better, and though my leg still felt like a hippogriff was sitting on me, the feeling had begun to return. So I considered it a good sign.

I was so caught up in the elation of banality that I was unaware that Severus was standing behind me until he said, "You cannot possibly be so engrossed in... Michael Doyle's essay."

Most other people would take offense at that, the tone and the words. But I had spent enough time with Severus, especially of late, to catch the underlying note in his voice, not elation or ecstasy, but perhaps satisfaction. It was a strange emotion for him, of all people, for as dearly as I held him, he was fastidious to a fault, especially regarding his own work.

"I hate to disappoint you, but I am," I replied, but I set it aside to placate him.

"I will have to reintroduce you to the research journals, I see." He sat in my desk chair with a wan smile, rubbing long, aristocratic fingers together, savoring the simple sensuality of the contact. "You know I was with Potter just now?"

His mentioning Harry at all suggested the gravity of our impending discussion, as, despite appearances, he really does think about the boy as infrequently as possible. "Were you? What on earth could you have to do with that brat?"

His glare was all the acknowledgement my teasing received. "After the debacle last week, I could not, in good conscience, ignore him any longer."

It was all I could do not to point at the altruism of this act. He would not appreciate it, and I was unwilling to insult him when I knew it must be difficult for him. I had seen what Legilimency did, after all, and I could only imagine the strain weekly lessons must put on his magic and his fragile mind.

The best I could do, as Albus had said, was to be his friend. "How did it go?" I asked kindly.

"He was late," said Severus, again as cheerful as ever. "He had been speaking to Lupin, so I only gave him one night's detention."

"That was generous of you," I said, stifling a laugh.

Severus gave a shallow bow from his seat and continued. "It went on as it always does for the first half hour or so, but then... He managed it, Minerva. Oh, he has the subtlety of a shovel to the skull, but he sent me flying out of his mind and halfway across the room."

"Oh, Severus!" I exclaimed delightedly. No wonder he sounded so pleased with himself. Teaching Occlumency, especially to someone as blunt as Harry Potter, was a laudable accomplishment. "Severus, that's wonderful. I'm so pleased."

"Yes," he said softly and simply, "so am I."

"Were you very badly hurt when he threw you?"

Like I had just asked him what purpose a bezoar served, he raised an eyebrow at me. I matched his gaze with one I've been repeatedly told is equally severe until he looked away and said, "Hardly at all. I caught myself just before I hit the ground."

"I hope Mr. Potter appreciates what he has done?"

He smiled wryly. "I am uncertain. He began to cheer rather vivaciously when I fell, but that may well have been..."

"Because you fell. Yes, I see your quandary. I suppose I ought to him regarding it."

"I imagine that you will impress the importance of it better than anyone else," Severus smiled, and I think he was mocking me.

"Will he accomplish it if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named makes another attempt to enter his mind, with the distance?"

He replied, "I cannot say for certain, but I suppose I am optimist-"

Across the sweeping property, the clock chimed six times to call the castle's inhabitants to dinner. Chatter and exclamations from Gryffindors (who are, even I will admit, the most boisterous house) interrupted our conversation almost at once, and we sighed in almost perfect unison. Albus had deemed attendance at meals compulsory, as he considered it an opportunity for us to set another fine example for our charges. I secretly supposed that he used it as an opportunity to eavesdrop on those staff members for whom he was concerned, but I could never find any evidence to support my supposition, save that Severus and Remus agreed with me when I mentioned it to them (separately, as I'm sure that one would have disagreed just to be contrary to the other).

"-tic. Will you be joining us this evening?"

"Yes. At least, I will join you for the meal," I replied quietly. I had not put in enough appearances, and I imagined that the children would want to see me well.

We walked to the Hall together with Severus moderating his usually long strides to accommodate my cane-aided hobble. The meal progressed normally. With NEWT and OWL testing over, the seventh and fifth years had begun the semi-hysterical rejoicing that followed months of constant stress. They brought their classmates with them. I watched Severus grasp his utensils so tightly that the bones stuck from beneath the translucent skin, and for once, I understood his discomfort.

Before I could reach across the aisle to comfort him, the doors opened at the end of the hall opened. I rose to castigate whichever miscreants chose not to observe the strictly imposed mealtimes, but I fell immediately back into my chair with shock when I saw the entrant.

Albus.

After months without a sign, without a word, without a glimpse, he stood in the Great Hall where he belonged in all his glory. In those unmistakable purple robes that swept the floor behind him and shimmered in the early summer sunlight from the ceiling.

"Good evening, children," he said, as nonchalant as if he had just encountered them on a stroll.

A few students replied in awed whispers; even the teachers sounded mildly overwhelmed as they rose to greet the Headmaster. When he reached the Head Table, he started at one end to greet his faculty. He reached me and smiled gently. "Minerva."

"Albus," I said, and to my disgust, my voice was choked.

"You, my girl, are a marvel." I would have turned anyone else into a teacup for addressing me so, but from him, the endearment only made me laugh and shake my head. He kissed both cheeks, and I felt my face flame that he should be so affectionate before the entire school.

In a voice barely a whisper to hide the quiver, I said, "I'm so glad you've returned."

He graced me with a smile, and eyes twinkling, he moved on across the aisle to where Severus stood. Albus's approach altered his usual imposing stance. Before the Headmaster, he seemed smaller than he had all those nights in our apartments, like he had made himself seem smaller to accommodate Albus's hugeness. For long moments, no words were exchanged, for no words could encompass the emotions telegraphing like mad between ice and sea. They were in one another's minds, I realized with a start, showing one another what the weeks' separation had brought. For almost a minute, I thought I was jealous, but I could not chase from my head the image of Severus broken in my apartment, the spell careening through him like a cursed broomstick. No. They could have their bond. I did not want that responsibility.

Albus's hand came to rest on Severus's cheek, but he dropped his gaze immediately at the contact. They had done.

"You've succeeded?"

"The boy has succeeded," Severus replied softly. Not correcting Albus, just self-deprecating, as usual.

Now, Albus's voice shook; he made no attempt to conceal it. He spoke only four words, words that echoed through the entire hall, a benediction to those who understood and an enigma to those who did not. "Thank you, my son."

There was a beat of silence during which he could not speak. I watched Severus's throat work convulsively in unison with his fingers. "Yes, sir," he managed, a vaguely appropriate response.