Just a small one-shot that came to me this summer.
Please give me feedback on this, I'm not quite sure how I feel about how it turned out.

Under the Stars

Minerva McGonagall looked out onto the shores of the Black Lake, which glittered onyx as the wind touched the surface, from the steps leading into the Entrance Hall.
Her nightly rounds always ended here, and she wouldn't have had it any other way. The castle by night was even more magical than by day, the turrets striking in the moonlight, the fire from inside the walls dancing out the windows. You could tell where each common room was by the dieing reds and yellows that came out of the windows. Even the Slytherin common room was identifiable, thanks to a faint green glow to her right, seeming almost to come from under the castle.
A shadowy figure on the grounds caught her eye.
The silhouette was lying in the grass, staring up at the dark sky. The Professor wandered over to them, almost sure of whom it would be.
"You shouldn't be out here, not at this time of night. Albus wouldn't have approved, and you're still a student."
It was just one week after Dumbledore's death, the day before the funeral, the day before the students were due to go home.
"Yes, I know," came the reply, "but I'm your daughter! Surely that grants me some sort of immunity. Besides, I'm a Prefect! Though I daresay it's favouritism…"
"Being Head Girl wouldn't grant you immunity, much less being daughter of a member of staff."
"Or two." Grinned the young Gryffindor.
"Or two." Agreed her Head of House.
"Sit with me mother," offered the girl, "it's quite peaceful out here, at such a time of night."
Minerva set herself down, knees bent, next to her not-so-little girl, who still lay gazing at the stars.
Quietly, the girl moved to face her mother.
"Where are they going to bury him?" she asked softly.
"Over there," the Professor replied, pointing, "near that patch of trees. We used to sit under them to discuss things, during the summer. In most holidays, actually. It's mostly occupied with fornicating teenagers in term-time."
She stopped, taking off her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose.
"I'll miss him… he always knew what to do. And now I suppose I'm Headmistress."
She sighed, "I miss him so much already."
Her daughter pulled herself up and hugged her tightly, "You can cry, Mum, I won't think any less of you. I've been doing not much else for days."
Minerva pulled back from the embrace to look the girl in the yes, her own still moist.
"Were you told who? Who did it?"
"No… everybody whispers, but no one knows, not for sure."
The Professor's voice was cold and bitter as she spat the name out.
The girl reeled in shock, "Professor Snape? We all wondered… but he trusted… always… Snape… I can't believe it…"
"I know, I felt the same. Albus insisted, he always seemed to be so certain, it took me some time to come to terms with it too."
"Snape!" the girl was livid. "Oh, I hope Potter finds him and wrings his greasy, murdering neck!" she seethed.
Her mother raised an eyebrow, "So you won't go after him?"
"No," the girl shook her head, "he'll be with Volde- sorry," she corrected when Minerva flinched, "sorry, You-Know-Who, by now, and I would never be able to find him. Besides, it's not really my fight. But when he comes to Hogwarts, I will be here. They will not take over my home, the school. I won't let them."
That said, she collapsed backwards, returning once again to gazing at the stars.
Her mother didn't follow suit.
They stayed like that for a long while.
"I'll go to bed now, Mum." Said the Prefect, getting up and dusting herself off, "I've got a train to catch tomorrow after all. I'll apparate into Hogsmeade in time for supper. I might spend some time in Muggle London, alright?"
"Fine, dear. Owl me if you're going to be late."
"Yes Mum." She smiled.
Before turning back towards the castle, she looked oddly at her mother.
"Lie down, Mum. You'll see them better."
Minerva shook her head, "I don't want to. I used to a lot, but now… I just don't feel like it anymore."
The young girl sighed.
"It's nice, sometimes, to just sit and watch the stars. They have some interesting stories to tell."
Minerva gave a small smile, "You sound just like a centaur."
"No, said the girl firmly, turning back to walk to the castle, "I sound just like my father."
As the stars overhead glittered and shone, Minerva nodded.
It was true. It did sound exactly like something Albus Dumbledore would have said.