A/N: Thank you all SO much for the wonderful reviews, I appreciate it more than I can say! You've officially broken my record for Reviews, go you! I had told several of you that this wouldn't be out until tomorrow morning, but I decided to give it to you a few hours early. I hope you enjoy it!

"Hey Hermione!" A voice whispered, and she cringed, "Hey Hermione!" It repeated, and she turned over to face the wall, "Hey Hermione!"

She groaned loudly, "Harry James Potter," she whispered, "What have I told you about waking me up like this?"

"Only if Voldemort has found a way to resurrect himself again, and I am in need of you goddess-like abilities to save the world," he recited cheerfully.

"And is that the current situation?"

"Er—No."

"Then why are you here?" she croaked.

"Because it's Christmas!" He whispered joyfully.

"No, it can't be Harry. You must be mistaken," she argued, "Today is 'Hermione gets to sleep all day' day."

"No such luck," came another voice from the door, and Hermione tried to stifle the smile which bloomed across her face.

"No fair," Harry pouted, "I wake you up, and you grumble at me and try to deny Christmas—she walks into the room and you become a silly little ray of sunshine."

Hermione tried to contain her blush, but there was no point, "Well, that's only because she's prettier than you."

Harry grumbled audibly, as Minerva hopped over Hermione and onto the corner of the bed, "Wake up!" she said with a giggle, "You're not leaving me alone with all of these nutters!"

"Hey!" Harry argued.

"These nutters—and Harry," Minerva corrected.

"Thank you."

"Can't they wait another hour? Or six?" Hermione groaned, "Someone kept me up half the night debating house-elf rights."

"It's not my fault you held unrealistic beliefs about the ways of achieving house-elf equality," Minerva argued.

"Oy!" Harry yelled, "Are you two really going to sit here debating house elves, when there is a perfectly delicious breakfast down stairs!"

"Well it really is quite an important issue, Harry," Minerva defended.

"Alright Hermione 1 and Hermione 2," He said, rolling his eyes exasperatedly, "I'll see you both downstairs."

Hermione rolled over and uncovering her head slightly, "Morning," she croaked.

"Morning," Minerva greeted.

"I find that you are far more pleasant to wake up to than Harry," she groaned, and Minerva grinned.

"Sorry dear, I tried to get here first, but he's faster," she said shrugging, "Just be glad that it wasn't Fred who woke you up. He wanted to, but Harry stopped him."

Hermione groaned again, "My hero."

Minerva laid down next to Hermione, their bodies close, but never quite touching, "We really should get up," she whispered, kissing Hermione shyly and causing a whirl of butterflies to flutter within her chest. "They're all waiting for us."

With one last groan, Hermione sat up, forcing her feet from the bed, "The greatest Christmas present in the world would be three more hours of sleep."

Minerva kissed her cheek, "Well, I suppose you will have to be thankful for the second greatest Christmas presents then." Leaving Hermione red-faced and drowsy, Minerva flounced from the room, and Hermione could hear her traipsing down the stairs.

Shaking her head slightly, she smiled, "Since when is she a morning person?"

Hermione untangled herself from the remaining blankets, and made her way downstairs as well, "Morning Weaselys," she called.

"Morning Hermione!" was chorused back at her, along with a flurry of Christmas wishes. Hermione couldn't help but blush, she didn't realize quite how long she had slept. The entire family was already here, including Percy, Charlie, Bill and a very pregnant Fleur.

"Sorry I took so long to wake, usually I'm the first one up," she laughed awkwardly as she swiped a muffin from the table and threw herself into her customary chair next to the Christmas tree.

"It's fine, dear," Molly clucked, bringing her a cup of tea, "Goodness knows you deserve some rest—you work so hard at school, not like the rest of them," she added glaring at her youngest children. Hermione smiled brightly at the mother.

Hermione's parents had not received their memories back kindly, and while she was still writing to them on occasion and attempting to mend the rift which the war had caused, progress was slow. Her family had always accepted her magic, but it was no secret that they didn't understand it, and that they feared it—not that she could blame them, what with their only daughter being petrified, scarred, tortured, persecuted, and forced to fight in a war.

Nonetheless, over the last several years, Molly had become a second mother to Hermione, and she couldn't have been more grateful, "Molly, why don't you have a seat, and open the first present," Hermione said kindly, "Open my gift, it's the shiny red one."

Molly beamed at Hermione, "You know you didn't have to get me anything!" she chided, but allowed herself a moment's peace as she picked up the small package.

"Well, I know you usually prefer something more practical—but I broke that rule this year. I think every now and then you just deserve something pretty," Hermione said excitedly, she desperately hoped that Molly liked the gift.

Molly carefully opened the package and found a thick wool scarf, currently in Gryffindor Red, "Oh Hermione! This is beautiful, and I'll have you know it's very practical, it will keep me nice and toasty!" she gushed.

Hermione smiled, "Well I also charmed it! A fun bit of magic, actually. It will change color depending on what you're wearing, and thickness depending how cold it is."

Molly jumped out of her seat and rushed towards the girl, hugging her tightly, "Thank you so much, dear, it's beautiful!"

After that, gifts began to be passed about. For Ginny, Hermione had charmed a bottomless bag, much like the one that she had carried for all of those months. "Oh Hermione, you should sell these!" For Ron and Harry, a study booklet for the Auror academy entrance exams—and a large amount of Honeydukes candy. For Arthur, a pair of light-up muggle sneakers, which delighted him to no end. Fleur received another bottomless bag; this one styled more like a baby bag, and already filled with various infant supplies. Her newly pregnant hormones caused her to burst into tears at the sight of the thoughtful gift.

The list went on, but every member of the family seemed incredibly happy with the gifts she had made or found, and Hermione was beaming. She really did enjoy making her friends happy. Minerva was sitting on the floor near Hermione's chair, and nudged her knee lightly, handing her a medium-sized package.

"To: Hermione, From: M.M.," she read, and smiled. Unwrapping the box carefully she found a newly released book on charm-theory, namely creating your own. She grinned at the book, it would certainly be useful. From underneath the book, Hermione saw a small bag peeking out of the box, with a note attached:

"Floo Powder—My library is yours, use it whenever you wish. – M.M."

Hermione beamed and threw her arms around Minerva, "Thank you!" she squealed, drawing the attention of several of her friends.

"Jeez, what did she get you?" Fred asked, "I never get that kind of reaction from my gifts!"

Ron snickered, pointing at the book, "A book, what else does Hermione ever get excited about?"

Minerva smirked, "Perhaps you just haven't done anything which excites her," she joked, causing his brothers to laugh loudly.

Hermione pulled her final package from under the tree, handing it to Minerva, "Pour Vous, Mon Petite Chou!"

Minerva laughed out loud, "Your little cabbage?"

Hermione grinned, "It's a term of endearment!"

"I'm not a vegetable, Hermione," she said with a poke to Hermione's leg. Taking the package, she carefully pulled away the wrapping paper, and pulled the lid off of a long box. Inside, was a set of thick wool tartan robes, and a note which read, "McSweeney Tartan Robes, since you outgrew your old set…"

"They are charmed to be waterproof, and to change thickness, much like Molly's scarf," Hermione explained.

Minerva grinned widely, "Thank you, Hermione."

Ron chuckled from the other side of the room, "Hermes, you messed up. Those aren't her family tartan."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows convincingly, "What?"

"That's the same tartan McGonagall always wore—you got her professor's robes!"

"Oh!" Hermione cried, a look of embarrassment on her face, "I'm so sorry, Mary—I can charm them to the correct tartan!"

Molly laughed out loud, but then clamped a hand over her mouth, "I'm—I'm sorry, Hermione," she covered, "I shouldn't laugh at your mistake."

Hermione pretended to look mortified, as Minerva smirked at her, "Thank you nonetheless, Hermione. They're lovely."

It was hours later that Molly bustled into the living room, holding an envelope out for Minerva, causing the young witch to furrow her brows in confusion, "Letter for you, dear. Odd—Christmas day and all."

"Thank you," she said quietly, taking the envelope in her hand. It was addressed to Mary McSweeney, and Minerva wasn't sure which name would have surprised her more at this point.

Hermione looked at her oddly as she excused herself from the room, opening the envelope as she walked.

Dear Minerva,

Yes, I know who you are. I'm sorry to write to you today, of all days, but the matter simply couldn't wait. The daily prophet received communications last week from an unnamed source—a student at Hogwarts, who is in contact with a portrait—who disclosed the fact that you have been "de-aged". She apparently plans to inform several other major members of the Wizarding media, in hopes of gaining some small notoriety herself.

There is

nothing I can do to prevent this story from running, I apologize, I really did try. Unfortunately, this is too big—both as a gossip piece, but also because of the magic behind it. You have ultimately been doused with the fountain of youth!

The best I could do was inform you before printing (the 1st of January) and write the story myself—cast you in the most positive light possible. I really am sorry, Minerva. I would never do such a thing to harm you, or your reputation. You have all of my respect.

If there is anything you require from me, please feel free to send an owl. And feel free to contact me if you would like to contribute a quote.

Respectfully,
L. Lindinbush—Daily Prophet

Minerva's legs shook as she leaned against the staircase wall, she had been found out.

Hermione sat in the living room, trying desperately to maintain her patience. Minerva had left the room nearly twenty minutes ago, and she hadn't come back. Everyone else may have thought that the young witch had just received a Christmas card from a distant family member—but Hermione knew otherwise.

If either Minerva or Mary was receiving mail, that meant something.

She fidgeted with her fingers, trying to concentrate on the game of chess which Ron and Ginny were playing. It had surprised everyone when Ginny had suddenly picked up a talent for Chess, but Ron loved it. He finally had someone who was fairly evenly matched against him—even if that was his little sister.

Glancing back towards the dining room again, Hermione decided to go check on Minerva.

"I'll be right back," she mumbled towards her friends, but none of them took any notice. Slipping into the dining room, she silently made her way to the staircase, assuming Minerva had retreated upstairs.

As she reached the second landing she found Minerva, sitting in the small corner, legs crossed, and eyes devoid of any emotion. Hermione kneeled down next to her, "Minerva? What are you doing here?" she asked gently.

Minerva just shook her head numbly. Hermione kneeled down, "Minerva," she whispered, "Can you make it upstairs with me?" Minerva nodded lightly, and Hermione helped her up the stairs and into the room Hermione was sleeping in.

Minerva just slouched blank-eyed onto the bed. "Minerva," Hermione tried again, "What's going on?" Minerva shook her head for a moment and then handed the slightly crumpled letter to Hermione.

Reading it over quickly, Hermione's eyes widened, "Bugger." She glanced back towards Minerva, who was still staring blankly into the wall, "Who is this woman? Can she be trusted?"

Minerva shrugged, "She was my student," she said, her voice raspy, "It's been years since I've spoken with her, but she was always a nice girl—very respectful. She graduated at the end of your third year."

Hermione sat heavily on the bed, "Well, I suppose that's a good thing."

"Hermione—everyone is going to know. By the time we're back from the Holidays, that article will have been read by every student at that school, by all of my colleagues."

Hermione frowned, "Well, you had planned on telling them at the end of the year," She said softly, "I suppose this just speeds things up a bit."

Minerva snorted, "A bit."

"It really isn't as bad as you think."

"Hermione—this is a dangerous potion, if nothing else, I'm concerned about that. But the original plan had me having graduated, again, and therefore not living with my students. Now, I have six months to deal with!"

"It won't be all that bad," Hermione argued.

"Despite your enormous respect for me, most of your classmates don't feel the same," Minerva argued, "They think I'm a cold-hearted bitch, only slightly preferable to Professor Snape. Now how would you react if Professor Snape had been living in your dormitory for several months without your knowledge?"

"They don't see you that way, Min. Sure, you're tough, but they know that you care—that you have a lighter side. Everyone knows that."

"It won't change their reaction."

Hermione frowned, "Well—there isn't much we can do about it now, can we?"

"No," Minerva said, running a hand through her hair.

"So, you should just decide whether or not you feel like sending a quote to the daily prophet. And—and how you are going to tell our friends, assuming you would prefer to be the one to break that news."

Minerva shut her eyes tightly, "Tomorrow," she croaked. "It's Christmas. We'll tell them all tomorrow."

The rest of Christmas day weighed heavily on both Hermione and Minerva—they tried to keep up the cheerful smiles and laughter from before the letter had arrived, but they knew that anyone who watched closely would see through them. Molly had already approached Minerva once, and Harry was watching Hermione closely throughout the day, but neither discussed it.

Not on Christmas.

That evening, once their friends had finally gone to sleep, they sat quietly on the couch, staring into the light of the Christmas tree. Hermione had her hand wrapped around Minerva's, and Minerva rested her shoulder on Hermione's.

"Hermione," she whispered.

"Hm?" Hermione answered lightly, opening her eyes to look at the green eyed woman next to her.

"I don't know that we should do this after all," Minerva sighed, her heart breaking at the words.

"Minerva," Hermione started, a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

"No, please listen," Minerva interrupted, and Hermione quieted. "I care about you, I do, and that's why I don't want you to have to deal with all of the backlash of this. We would have gotten enough attention as is—but now you're dating your old professor, I'm dating my ex-student. People will not understand the science behind my condition—they'll think I'm some sort of pedophile. They'll also suggest that this was going on far before I was transformed. I'll be painted as the villainous old predator, and you as the victim—or worse, as the 'brilliant' muggleborn who has been sleeping with her professor for an A."

Hermione blinked tearfully, "We're both highly respected members of the wizarding community. I helped vanquish Voldemort—you hold an order of Merlin!"

"And they won't care about that, not if there is a good bit of gossip available."

"What if I don't care? To hell with my damn reputation! If it's that easily thrown in the dirt, what do I want with it anyways?" Hermione argued, causing Minerva to sigh.

"Hermione, you know exactly how much good you could do for our society if given the opportunity. You can't throw that all away for some relationship."

"Fine—fine," Hermione tried, "Then we keep it a secret. We're friends, that's all. It may not be ideal but—"

"We spend nearly all of our time together, they'll find out!"

"So what, you want to just stop being friends all together? Couldn't the same ramifications befall Harry or Ron, or Neville? Are you just going to cut everyone out of your life?" Minerva was silent, and Hermione's eyes widened, "That's exactly what you're planning!"

"You don't understand," Minerva tried desperately, "This could ruin your lives too—I can't be responsible for that!"

"Dammit Minerva—don't pull a Harry on this. People are responsible for their own damn actions. You can warn us, and maybe some people with scamper, but I'm not going anywhere. I can't force you to be in a relationship with me, but you still live with me, you still have classes with me, and you're not going to be able to stop yourself from being friends with me," She ranted, "And besides, I'm actually the least likely to be accused of having a relationship with you—no one has ever suggested that Minerva McGonagall is gay, remember?"

Minerva sighed, "I'm just trying to protect you."

"I don't need protecting. What I need is free-will."

Minerva glared at the other woman, she knew that Hermione wasn't going to be swayed on this matter, and loathe as she was to admit it, she had a point. They were going to be together all the time no matter what, so unless she wanted to be downright rude to her, Minerva might as well be her friend—and if she was going to be her friend…

Minerva groaned, "Are you sure about this?"

Hermione smirked slightly, "Of course I am—don't you think I thought about all of that to begin with?"

Minerva just nodded half-heartedly, "Of course you did, who did I think I was talking to?"

Hermione wrapped her arms around Minerva, "I really do understand the risks, Minerva—they terrify me, and infuriate me. But the press has been after me for years now, and I refuse to let them dictate my choices in life. I have to live for me."

Minerva gave a small smile, "You always seem to be switching roles one me. Every time I think that I've reclaimed the role of professor, you just completely overtake me."

"In your defense, you taught me for years, so it's only natural that I already know what you're going to lecture me about," Hermione grinned.

Minerva groaned, "You're going to be the death of me."

The following morning Minerva sat at the Weasely table with all eyes on her, quickly realizing that there was no possible way that this conversation wouldn't be awkward.

Minerva had just spent five minutes stumbling over her words, and not making any progress whatsoever. She had stuttered out that she wasn't who they thought she was, but that was as far as she had gotten before losing her train of thought entirely. How was she supposed to explain all of this?

As Minerva struggled to find words, Ron interrupted her, and for once his lack of manners was a godsend. She didn't know what she was saying, or where she was going, and she couldn't help but hope that maybe he could actually lead her in the right direction.

"What are you talking about?" he said, his entire face a picture of confusion.

Minerva sighed. No help from him then. Glancing around the table she caught Hermione's eye, and the younger witch must have seen something there, because she quickly cleared her throat, "What Mary is trying to say, and stumbling over painfully, is that her real name is not Mary. That was a cover story for her last minute induction into Gryffindor."

"Then who is she?" Charlie asked, a small smirk in place. He wasn't nearly invested enough in Mary's life yet to really care who she was—and obviously Hermione wouldn't have brought her to the house unless she was safe. So he was just amused by whatever was going on.

"I'm Minerva—er, Professor McGonagall," she said finally, blushing furiously and staring at her fingers.

"Gasp," Harry said blandly, chuckling to himself,

Minerva raised her eyebrows at him, "You knew?"

Harry shook his head, laughing, "Why is it that everyone always assumes that Hermione is the only smart one?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Ron interrupted, his face paler than usual and his ears red, "You're telling us that you aren't actually 18 year old Mary McSweeney—but 70 year old McGonagall!?"

Minerva was about to answer, but Hermione cut in, "Well, she's both, Ron. She was hit with a de-aging potion. Therefore she has existed for 65 years—but she has the body, and all of the emotions of an eighteen year old."

"But—but—but—she's McGonagall, that's what you're saying?"

"Geez Ronnikins, it isn't that hard to understand!" Fred said rolling his eyes.

"And really, you should have noticed sooner," George added in.

"Preferably before you spent several months hitting on her," Ginny snickered.

"Boys, be nice," Molly interrupted.

"Well I wouldn't have hit on her if I had known that she's—that she was…I wouldn't have!" he shouted over the table, causing Fred and George to start laughing loudly.

"It's okay Ron, it's perfectly normal for boys to have crushes on their teachers!" Charlie snickered, causing Ron to get more upset.

"How is this not against the rules? She lived in our dorm, and went to classes with us, and is on the Quidditch team—how could she do all of that without telling anyone?" He asked desperately.

Minerva had her head in her hands at this point, just trying to block out the sounds of the Weasely brood, groaning she explained, "I was instructed by Professor Dumbledore that I shouldn't tell anyone, Ron. The potion I was hit with could be extremely dangerous in the wrong hands, so he was waiting until the potion had been made safer, as was originally intended."

"Which brings up the question," Fred started.

"Why are you mentioning it now?" George finished.

"As far as we knew, that potion is still incredibly dangerous, and has another six to eight months until it will probably be safe for human consumption," Fred said, his eyebrows furrowed in an uncharacteristically serious expression.

"Hold everything," Molly interrupted, "How do you two know so much about the potion which hit Minerva?"

"Er—"

"Um—"

"I mean—"

"What we're really trying to say is—"

"Oh goodness gracious," Hermione interrupted, "They were the ones who created the potion. A nasty student decided to steal it from their lab, and drench a muggleborn with it. Minerva jumped in front of the potion, hence being de-aged. For once, it wasn't their fault; they had taken all the proper safety precautions."

Molly glared at her sons, obvious disapproval in her eyes, "Molly, give the boys a break. It was an honest accident—and frankly, their invention is brilliant. Also, they've spent nearly all of their time working with Severus to try and reverse the potion."

Molly softened somewhat, as Harry asked, "Is there a reverse potion?"

Minerva sighed, and both twins blushed. In the end it was Hermione who answered, "No Harry, she's going to be staying this age."

Harry shook his head, "I'm sorry professor, this must be ridiculously difficult for you."

"Difficult for her?" Ron quipped, "That's a laugh. She gets to start life over again, and play quidditch, and beguile her unsuspecting students!"

"Ronald Weasely!" Hermione snapped, her wand suddenly pointed at him, "How dare you!"

Minerva rubbed her temples, "I never tried to beguile you, Mister Weasely. In fact, I believe Hermione and I tried rather desperately to get you to leave me alone. It is your own stalker-like tendencies which have ended you in this situation. I was more than content to be your friend, and teammate, but I never did anything to indicate a romantic interest."

Harry smirked towards his friend, "If I recall, she mentioned something about detaching your cock…"

Minerva turned beat red, "Er—my temper sometimes gets away with me, a bit."

Hermione burst into a fit of giggles and sat down, as Ron glared at the two women. "As fascinating as all this is," Fred interrupted, "I'm still trying to figure out why you're telling everyone."

"Because someone discovered my secret, and shared it with the Daily Prophet," Minerva sighed, "It will be in the newspaper in a few days, and I wanted to tell you all myself—especially you- Harry, Ron, and Ginny. You have all been wonderful friends to me, to Mary, and no matter how upset you may be, I wanted to tell you personally."

"Minerva—can I call you that?" Harry asked timidly, and Minerva nodded, "I can't speak for everyone, but I've had a suspicion for a while now, and I have no problem being friends with you. I know this wasn't your choice, and I don't see why we should punish you for something which was out of your control."

"Thank you, Harry," Minerva said softly.

"I'll admit, I'm a bit weirded out, and I hadn't realized it, obviously, but you're a nice person. I don't really care who you were as long as you're good to me and my friends now," Ginny said with a shrug, making Hermione smile.

"I told you they would be fine," she said, smiling brightly.

Arthur had been silent throughout the conversation, knowing of Mary's identity, and not wanting to involve himself in the politics of his kids, but now he felt the need to speak up. "Minerva, what are you and Albus planning on doing about this story? I mean, as you said, this is dangerous information, and it creates a substantial risk to you, Fred and George."

Minerva frowned, "Honestly, Arthur, I'm not sure. I received the letter yesterday, and I've yet to correspond with Albus. I don't think we have a lot of options though. The story will run, and we just have to see what happens from there. I don't believe that anyone knows that it was the twins who created that potion, so that should be of some help."

"We haven't mentioned it to anyone," George said quietly, "At this point; we've worked on several more dangerous inventions, several of which were directly requested by the Ministry. I'm sure that if it came down to it, we would be offered some level of protection."

"Besides," Fred added, a small smile on his face, "Who would want to risk annoying us?"

"Just be careful," Molly said, wringing her hands slightly, "All three of you."

Thank you so much for reading, please shoot me a review, if you have the time! The next chapter is a ridiculously fluffy one, so keep your eyes open!

A couple of specific review responses, because neither of you have accounts and I wanted to respond personally:

Chelsea: Just so you know, I was having a dreadful week as well, and you jump started my writing bug. I've written three more chapters since reading your review, so thank you very much for that. It makes my day to know that you not only enjoy my story, but that it gives you such a happy buzz. Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you enjoy the rest of the story!

Joefelldown: Thank you so much for your review. All of the things you mentioned were parts of that chapter which I loved writing, but was really worried about how they would be received. Thank you so much for letting me know that they worked! I really hope you continue to love the characters (as I've written them, obviously we love the characters as Rowling wrote them!) as much as I do.

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