Disclaimer: Well...uh, unfortunately Jk Rowling owns Harry Potter and all of its many wondrous characters, and last time I checked I wasn't she. I can check again, if it would leave your mind more at ease.
runs over to mirror and looks at the (somewhat horrifying) appearance staring gormlessly back at her

Nope, I'm not Jk Rowling. Damn it. I guess that means I'll have to go back to school on Wednesday.

Fun in the Sun, eh, Minerva?

Chapter 1:

Thank the good Lord for summer!

"Ahhh" Minerva sighed a deep, contented sigh as she lowered the cup of tea from her lips and set it down on the table in the staff room.
Not particularly caring what her colleagues thought, seeing her in such an unprofessional and informal manner, she kicked off her slightly uncomfortable (though entirely practical and sensible) footwear, rubbed her lower calves (which had suffered far too much walking over the past few days) and leant back in her chair, valiantly trying to ignore the numerous images that swarmed her mind each and every time she closed her eyes. Fortunately, (or perhaps that should be unfortunately?) Minerva hadn't had all that much free time in which she could close her eyes for more than two minutes at a time. Luckily, (unluckily?) the last day of term was always an exception from the rule, and so pictures buzzed and flitted, much like an unwanted wasp at a picnic, through Minerva's head. Cedric Diggory's body sprawled across the ground as Harry Potter lay nearby, sobbing. Mr and Mrs Diggory clutching each other, almost hysterical in their grief, as poor Pomona Sprout attempted to console them. Various students either crying in hallways or patting Harry Potter on the back or, as was the most frequent case, looking nervously around, very pale and shaken, as if they hadn't slept a wink.

This was true with most of the students at Hogwarts. For a great number of reasons, some slightly more equitable than others, but all still valid.
For the younger students, it was merely seeing a dead person for the first time in their life that had scared and shocked them.
The slightly older students, it was more of the idea that somebody had been killed by Lord Voldemort/suffered a tragic accident/cruelly murdered by Harry Potter in his desperate attempt to win the Triwizard Tournament (the story changed depending on who you spoke too, and whether or not they were sober.)
The top of the school, students who were doing OWLS and NEWTS, it was simply because one of their friends/classmates had died.
Minerva must admit, despite all appearances, she had been thoroughly shaken by the whole ordeal. It wasn't that she particularly liked Cedric, true he was a pretty decent Transfigurer, ('was that a word?' Minerva pondered. She decided it probably wasn't, but would use it anyway, as it would take too long to figure out the correct word she was searching for.) But it was more of the fact that he simply hadn't needed to die. It wasn't necessary. But then, she thought, what death is necessary? Really?
Deciding to leave this truly philosophical internal debate as something she could carry on over the summer holidays, when her brain would hopefully hurt a little less, she began to think of the only other students whom she had seen were having trouble sleeping.

Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.

However, this was perfectly understandable, after all, who wouldn't have difficulty catching a few zzzz's when you thought of all the anxieties they must be feeling? First there was the whole, Voldemort-back-alive-thing which was really quite a predicament, even if those morons at the ministry didn't realise so. Then of course there was the, Cedric Diggory fiasco, which Minerva imagined must lay heavily on Harry's shoulders, despite it not even being slightly his fault. In addition to that, as well, there was problem the small problem of just-how-much-Transfiguration-homework-they'd-been-set over the holidays.
Exhaling slowly, feeling slightly ashamed, Minerva took another sip of her tea and vowed to go easier on the three of them next year.

Needing to distract herself, Minerva glanced around the room and was actually quite surprised to see so many teachers present. Naturally she had expected for there to be more than a couple of professors, considering it was the staff room, but by the looks of things, the entire army of teachers had felt compelled to congregate in there, and honest to god, on some days, it did feel like an army. Teaching at Hogwarts was greatly reminiscent of what Minerva thought working in the military would be like, more so, in fact, than it was similar to what all conventional teaching/educational careers were, supposedly, like.

Nodding off, by the fire, was the dear old Muggle Studies professor, bless her, Minerva often wondered why she had chosen to work in Hogwarts. As kind, knowledgeable and caring as she was, Professor Burbage was somewhat lacking in the disciplinary department, which often lead to students taking advantage of her sunny disposition...and then almost instantly feeling guilty for manipulating and cheating such a sweet, old lady and ending up either owning up to what they did or donating money to charity or generally doing something good for man-kind...
But still...

Right on the other side of the room was Filius, reading what appeared to be a very old, dusty book, of which Minerva couldn't make out the title. If she had felt so inclined, she may have gotten up out of her chair to see what book it was, as she would most probably have read it, and if she hadn't she would most certainly like to...in all her free-time, right?
But as the situation was, it seemed to Minerva, to be an awful lot of effort simply for a few hundred pages that had been bound together and had words printed on to form a book.

On the sofa nearest the kitchen, sat the youngest member of the Hogwarts staff; Professors Vivian Vector and Auriga Sinistra. Vivian Vector was very sophisticated and glamorous, she had attended Beauxbatons and, thanks to connections with her boyfriend, always had the latest fashionable robes. Auriga Sinistra however, had a slightly (and by slightly, Minerva meant very) ditzy disposition. Although incredibly bright, passing most of her subjects with flying colours, with the clear exception of Transfiguration, Minerva thought bitterly, Auriga also had a slight tendency to run off on a tangent and ramble, especially when she got flustered, which seemed to happen quite a bit when around Severus Snape, who she was currently glaring at with a hatred that Minerva had previously only contributed to the creation of low-fat milk and decaffeinated-tea.

The two of them (Auriga and Vivian, not Auriga and Severus, you understand) reminded Minerva strongly of two teenage girls. The two BFF's you always see in American movies. Except they weren't American, and Minerva liked to think that they had deeper conversations with more substance than what Celestina Warbeck was doing for her third wedding or which member of the Weird Sisters were cuter. As Minerva shuffled forwards slightly, in her chair, trying to hear snippets of their conversation, she came to the conclusion that perhaps they didn't.

"Oh, for god's sake, Auriga, why don't you just jump him already, you know you want to!" Vivian Vector exclaimed, gesturing towards the heap of grease and black material that was Severus Snape, seemingly unconscious, after who knows what kind of torture he had put through, on behalf of the Order, by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Auriga gave an anguished gasp and then proceeded to go on a half-an-hour long tirade as to why that was "simply not true!"
Minerva, on the other hand, had to restrain herself from nodding at Vivian's comment. It had needed to be said, and thankfully, Minerva had been spared the chore of actually having to do it herself. She hadn't wanted to, not only because of the way Sinistra would react (indeed, Vivian looked like she would rather be dead at that precise moment, Minerva wondered briefly if she should remove Vivans wand from her pocket, as Professor Vector's hand continued to twitch towards it with a mad suicidal gleam in her eyes. But she decided it was far too much bother, and if worst came to the worst, she could always just disarm the foolish woman) but she had also not wished to inform the oblivious Auriga, because every time she had thought, privately of course, that Sinistra and Snape would be cute together (in a totally dysfunctional and psychotic way) in tended to lead to really unfortunate mental images that Minerva could live a long and happy life without.
Yeuch!
Yep, there they were. If Minerva were that type of person, she would've openly shuddered and, quite possibly screamed (you can't quite imagine just how horrific these images were,) but she wasn't that type or person, so she didn't.

The saviour from these "daydreams" or, as most people referred to them as "nightmares" came in the form, not of her cup of now tepid tea - where it usually came from, but in the form of Pomona Sprout, who had just come bustling in through the door. Slightly pale, Minerva noticed, with red puffy eyes that didn't look like they had just been from over-tiredness.
"Pomona" Minerva greeted kindly, as the aforementioned Professor flopped down on the armchair opposite McGonagall, looking utterly frazzled "I was on my way down here when I bumped into the poor Cho Chang girl, crying her eyes out she was, genuinely heartbroken, it seemed, thoroughly inconsolable." Minerva nodded sympathetically.
Admittedly, she couldn't stand Chang, but it didn't mean she couldn't pity the devastated young girl. Also, she couldn't help but admire her friend, for despite the insane amount of stress she must have been feeling, not to mention the amount of pressure and obligation she had to help all the Hufflepuffs' pull through (the most sensitive house, who had, obviously, been the most upset) but Pomona had also managed to find the time, and patience, to help other students, who were not her immediate responsibility, to 'pick up the pieces' as the saying goes.

'It is truly a testimony to Hufflepuffs everywhere. You can't find a better friend than a Hufflepuff,' thought Minerva. 'Indeed, she probably would even go and cheer up a 'depressed' Slytherin, or maybe even a Weasley twin.'

True, she would probably check her pockets and make sure nothing was on her back afterwards, but that is just common-sense.

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At least 3 hours later, Minerva and Pomona had exhausted all possible topics for conversation, from lamenting the ridiculous Rita Skeeter and all trouble she had caused, the idiocy of Fudge, the truly laughable antics of Sinistra and Snape this year, which in turn led them to talk of which students would end up 'going out' next year, this particular topic ended up with Pomona calling Hermione and Ron the "new Lily and James" and of course, finally, the question of who the next year's defence teacher would be and how long they would last with it being the Weasley twins final year. Pomona had guessed at about 9 months. Minerva, knowing the Weasley twins slightly better, estimated 6 weeks, if that.

Then, deciding that 11 o'clock probably was a good time to go to bed, considering the early hour they would be required to wake up at, the following morning, and knowing full well that they would need all the energy they could muster, as young children and teenagers alike tend to be quite excitable at the prospect of seeing their families again,( and hyper young wizards and witches are a force to be reckoned with, especially with the ALWAYS noticeable lack of coffee at hand in the staff room and at the breakfast table on the last day of term. Really, Minerva would have to speak with the house-elves next year, something HAD to be done,) they probably wouldn't have time in the morning to wish each other a good holiday, and so they did it then. Both making plans to meet up over the holidays, and both knowing that they would never follow through with them.

Minerva because of business with the Order. Pomona because she was able to discern that Minerva was busy with the order and therefore didn't want to cause a fuss. In case it hasn't already been made clear, let us just establish something; Pomona Sprout is the nicest person you will EVER meet. She may just be the sweetest person on the planet.

'Still,' Minerva said to herself as she made her way through the castle, back to her private quarters, 'no matter what problems I'm faced with due to the Order, they can't possibly be as bad as the ones I'm faced with on a daily basis at Hogwarts!'
Just as she had finished thinking that, indeed it seemed just to spite her, she rounded the corner to where her quarters ought to have been. But as one final hardship before she left for the summer, it seemed, Hogwarts had decided to move all the staircases and floors again.

Minerva began vehemently cursing (out loud or in her head she couldn't tell you) Rowena Ravenclaw and all her stupid wisdom (and yes, Minerva was perfectly aware that was a contradictory in terms, thank you) as she made her way around the castle, just trying to find a place to sleep. The cold, stone floor was actually steadily becoming more and more comfortable looking, oddly enough; at the same rate that Minerva's eyelids kept feeling heavier and heavier.

"Thank the Lord for the summer holidays" she found herself saying. "The good-lord I mean, not He-Who-Has-No-Sense-Of-Proper-Social-Conduct."
At about that exact moment, Peeves whizzed past singing "Ooo-hoo-hoo, let's cause some trouble! Down to the Potions room, hubble-bubble!"

Minerva was stuck between her desperate need for sleep and her duty as a teacher to stop whatever Peeves was doing, despite how much fun it might have been to laugh at Severus expense.

Groaning audibly, Minerva changed route and followed Peeves mad cackling down to the dungeons.

The Summer Holidays could not start a second too soon.

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So, I rather hope you like that. I'm not quite sure why I wrote that. I keep meaning to update Secrets of a Self-confessed Sanctimonious Slimeball and Morning, Sunshine! Updates are on the way, I promise. But I figured that this seemed like a good story, and some writing (even if on another story) is better than no writing at all, right? Right? Wrong? Meh.

So, this is the part where I say pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease review. I have to back to school in two days to start GCSE work; nice reviews are the only thing that can get me through. Honest. I am that sad. Take pity on me. M'kay?

Au Revoir, mes amis!