A/N: You wanted fluff? You've got it! Sorry to those of you who saw my promise of an update last night on Twitter. Something was up with this website and it wouldn't let me load. :-( But it's here now, and I'm planning another short update later today.
One of my reviewers asked a good question, and I wanted to answer it here. They asked, wouldn't the student Minerva protected be able to testify that Minerva's transformation was an accident? Great question. I had thought I mentioned this in the first chapter, but apparently I hadn't. My apologies, but there isn't really a way to sneakily add this in at this point. Both of the students involved were not aware of the effect the potion had on Minerva, only of the accident. But nonetheless, their memories of the accident were altered. Dumbledore's fear of this incident being made public outweighed the moral implications of modifying someone's memory. So unfortunately, neither student is available to testify to what happened.
Even if they were available, I don't think it would have helped all that much. The media seems to love listening to the gossip of teenagers when it helps their story, but we all saw how many times the Prophet and the Ministry painted Harry as a deranged young boy. For the most part, teenagers are assumed to be lying most of the time.
Enough of that though, Enjoy the update!
Hermione couldn't help but smile as she climbed the stairs to her room, it was the third day of classes after the winter break, and things were going wonderfully for her. She had just finished Muggle Studies, and had earned a whopping 20 points for Gryffindor. It seemed she was, as usual, the only student who had actually done her reading over break. Now she was going to pick up a few books for her afternoon classes, and then have lunch with Minerva.
Entering the room her smile was quickly replaced with a frown when she saw the aforementioned girl laying in her bed, head firmly tucked beneath her pillow.
"Minerva?"
A muffled reply came from her pillow, and Hermione fought back a small smile, "Min, I can't understand a word you're saying," she chuckled. Then, adopting a more serious tone of voice, she asked, "What's going on, why are you here?"
The older witch rolled over, now staring at the ceiling. "Well there isn't really a point to my being in class, now is there?" she grumbled.
"Graduation? Success? Keeping yourself busy?" Hermione listed.
"Listening to the rumors which are circulating about myself…observing the perplexed faces of my colleagues when I turn in my homework," Minerva finished. "There's no point, Hermione. I already did this. Everyone knows I already did this. I might as well quit while I'm ahead and take advantage of some extra time for napping."
Hermione frowned, sitting beside Minerva on the bed. "Has it really been that bad?" she asked.
"Well you were there for potions," Minerva groaned. "You heard the rumors firsthand, got to see the snickering when Severus took points from me. That was a lovely start. After that I went to the library for my free period, and Irma outright asked me, in front of everyone, why I was masquerading as a student. She told me it was uncomfortable for everyone involved."
"Oh, Min," Hermione sighed sympathetically.
"I stayed after that, despite the ridiculous staring. I don't know exactly what I was trying to prove, but I worked on my essay for Filius. I was alright until Study Hall started. That was when Harry and Ron refused to sit or speak with me."
"What?!" Hermione exclaimed. She thought that the boys had settled all of that before returning to school. Harry certainly hadn't held any ill will towards Minerva, he had apparently guessed around the same time Hermione had, and had even known when he suggested that Minerva had feelings for Hermione.
He was just happy to have his suspicions confirmed.
Ron had been less easy. Despite Minerva obvious disinterest, he had genuinely felt something for her, and had fed himself some sort of delusional hope that she was interested in him. He felt betrayed, humiliated, and less than slightly disgusted. It certainly hadn't helped that his siblings had teased him relentlessly throughout the week following Christmas.
Eventually he had calmed down enough to be in the same room as her, he had even debated the Cannon's newly drafted keeper the day before they returned, but apparently something had changed.
Minerva just sighed, "I think Harry wanted to talk to me, he looked sorry," she explained, "But Ron refused, and then he started gossiping about me to Seamus and Dean."
"That stupid pig-headed git. I'm sorry, Min. He doesn't think sometimes," Hermione huffed.
"I think that people have been giving him a hard time. I mean, he wasn't exactly subtle about his interest in me."
"That doesn't excuse his behavior, you haven't done anything wrong!"
Minerva just shook her head, "I don't blame him. I had thought you would react similarly when you found out. It is uncomfortable. Everyone acts as if I don't realize that. I'm a 65 year old woman living with a bunch of teenagers. That's horribly uncomfortable! But what am I supposed to do?" Minerva asked, clawing her fingers through her hair, "Albus wants me to continue on, he's concerned that because of my technical age I could have difficulties finding employment if I don't complete my NEWTS again. He said that the board of governors would argue against my employ, which is ridiculous on its own. I just don't want to be here anymore, I can't seem to make myself care."
"Minerva," Hermione said gently, "I know you want to give up, but you have to keep fighting."
"I know, I just don't want to. Unfortunately, if I'm going to be stuck in this damnable body, I'm going to have to completely start over again."
"Hey," Hermione smiled, running a hand through the distressed girl's hair. "I happen to be rather fond of that damnable body."
Minerva smiled lightly, "At least one of us is."
"I'm sorry today is so terrible, Minerva," she said quietly.
Minerva rolled over quietly, kissing the palm of Hermione's hand before holding it firmly. "It's not your fault; you're one of the only people who isn't causing me problems."
"I could talk to Ron," she offered.
Minerva just shook her head, "It wouldn't help, he'll come around or he won't. Ron was always a good kid, and we had certainly become friends, but we weren't close. I don't really miss him; I would just like it if one less person was wandering around quoting that damned article and talking about me."
Hermione cringed, "They've been quoting it?"
"Oh yes," Minerva said with pursed lips, "Not to my face, of course, because I'm still their petrifying hag of a professor, but from behind bookshelves in the library, or in the bathroom, they have no problem rambling on about me."
Minerva laid her head back against her pillow, sighing heavily.
Hermione didn't know what to do. The articles hadn't been that bad, not really. Fred and George hadn't been mentioned, and the potion was discussed as some light hearted prank gone wrong, rather than the powerful elixir that it was. Still, none of that changed the fact that Minerva had been "masquerading" as an eighteen year old girl, and living among her students for months. They felt violated and betrayed, and none of them were comfortable being around her.
Simultaneously, the professors didn't know how to react. They were awkward in their classes, and seemed to feel as if they were going to be judged on their teaching. They looked at Minerva as if she was a spy, and they all felt that Dumbledore should have trusted them enough to inform them of the fact that Minerva was present in their classes.
Minerva didn't know it, but several of the quidditch players had even approached Harry, trying to get her banned from the team. Thank goodness Harry had more sense. He had told them off, telling them if they wanted to have a winning team, they needed Minerva, and to get over themselves. They didn't argue too much after that—granted, rumor had it that the Harpies were interested in recruiting her, so the other players really couldn't argue her talent.
Lavender had tried to approach Hermione, apparently not realizing that her quotes towards the press would aggravate her so much. She had left with a black eye. The bint had actually had the nerve to ask Hermione if it "hurt her feelings that an old hag like McG could get guys, but she couldn't." Hermione couldn't say that she was exactly proud of hitting Lavender—she had been raised not to use violence as a solution to a problem—but it had certainly felt good. Nearly as good as punching Malfoy in her third year.
When she had told Ginny about the conversation the youngest Weasely had been overcome with giggles—whether this was because Hermione had hit someone, or because Ron's interest in Minerva had been mentioned, Hermione didn't know. But Ginny did tell her that she should be proud, and that "that cow has been looking to be punched for years now."
Minerva had been promising wonderful vengeance on the empty-headed Gryffindor, but she hadn't yet had the opportunity to implement her plan.
Hermione wanted to find some way to cheer Minerva up, and suddenly and idea came to her. It wouldn't be easy to do on a day like today, but it would be worth it in the end. "I have an idea," she whispered after a moment, she was sure that she could pull it all off. She wasn't considered the smartest witch of her age for nothing. "Grab your cloak."
Minerva groaned loudly, "Hermione, you're wonderful, really, but I don't want to do anything. Can't I just lie here for a while?"
"Nope," Hermione said with a hopeful smile, "We have Charms in an hour, and that should be a good class. Professor Flitwick recognized you right away, remember? So he won't be treating you any differently, and we're doing Protean Charms, so neither of us will be having any difficulty. Until that time, we're going to have an adventure."
"Hermione," Minerva whined, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from laughing.
"Are you, the great Minerva McGonagall, really going to run away from a possible adventure?" Hermione asked, causing Minerva to glare at her, "It's not really an adventure, more of an outing really."
"You're not going to leave me be, are you?" Hermione shook her head, and Minerva sighed. "Fine. Lead the way Granger."
Hermione grinned, "Meet me in front of the Great Hall in five minutes, alright?" Minerva nodded, and Hermione shot off down the stairs, causing the older witch to chuckle.
When Minerva arrived at the Great Hall, she found Hermione waiting for her by the doors, bouncing lightly on her feet and holding a large picnic basket. "Are you ready?" she grinned.
"What exactly are you planning?" Minerva asked, following Hermione out the front doors.
Hermione laughed as she plowed through the thick snow on the grounds. "I feel like the basket should have made that fairly obvious."
"Well, I was assuming that you weren't planning a picnic in three feet of snow," Minerva said with a laugh.
"Are we witches, or aren't we?" Hermione asked, her smile never fading. "Honestly, I just thought you could use some time away from all of the other students and the whispering, and I would love a chance to show you a smidgeon of affection outside of our room. It's winter and, as you pointed you, a person would have to be barmy to be wandering around in this mess. Sounded like the perfect opportunity for me."
Minerva just shook her head, "You're insane."
"You have no faith in me!" Hermione laughed as she trudged through the blizzard. After five minutes Hermione stopped. "Close your eyes," she requested, and Minerva did so without question.
She listened as Hermione lightly weaved magic around them, her voice melodious against the harshly blowing wind. When asked to open them again, Minerva couldn't stop a gasp from escaping.
Hermione had put them into a snow globe—or at least that's what it felt like. She had created a space about the size of a small room. A light shield surrounded them, keeping the wind and snow from entering, and yet they could still see the snow falling quickly around them and the ice moving on the surface of the lake. Hermione had even cast a soft warming charm, making the entire area feel as if it was early in the fall, rather than the middle of January.
In the middle of their sanctuary, Hermione had laid out a large red blanket with gold and orange embroidery, ever the Gryffindor. At each corner of the blanket sat a jar containing one of Hermione's famous bluebell flames, and in the center of the blanket sat a small feast of sandwiches, crisps, fruit, and cider.
It certainly wasn't fancy, but it was the most singularly romantic thing that Minerva had ever seen. All this to cheer her up? To give them a moment alone?
"Hermione," Minerva gasped, glancing towards her worrying partner.
"Do you like it?" she asked nervously, and Minerva's smile grew.
"I love it."
"I know it isn't anything fancy, I didn't have a lot of time, but I knew the spells and I thought—"
"I love it," Minerva interrupted.
"Really?"
Minerva turned towards Hermione and grabbed her hand, pulling the smaller woman towards her. She kissed her softly, sighing as Hermione wrapped her arms around her neck, pulling them ever so slightly closer. "Hermione," she whispered, her arms wrapped firmly around her waist, "This is perfect, and romantic, and more than I could have hoped for. Thank you."
Hermione leaned her head against Minerva's smiling intoxicatingly, "I just wanted to cheer you up. You haven't been smiling nearly enough lately."
They pulled apart slightly, but their hands stayed carefully weaved together as Hermione pulled Minerva towards the blanket, "Technically, there are several more sandwiches in the basket—I wanted to make sure there was something you liked," she blushed.
Minerva shook her head slightly, "You really are perfect, you know that?" Hermione just blushed in response as they dished out the food.
"It's not perfection, it's effort. Trying is such a rarity these days, that everyone mistakes it for perfection."
"Perfection." Minerva insisted. Hermione huffed slightly, but smiled nonetheless. "Speaking of being too perfect, wasn't I supposed to be the one taking you on a date, Miss. Granger?"
Hermione blushed darkly, "I didn't mean to do that, you know this doesn't have to count as a date. I really was just trying to give you some space to breath for lunch."
Minerva kissed Hermione again, "It's a date, a perfect date."
She smiled at the look of ridiculous cheer on Hermione's face, "You really do want to date me," she said quietly.
Minerva nodded, "You're only just figuring this out?"
"No," Hermione said, a small smile in place. "But I'm still surprised by it."
Minerva snorted, "You think you're surprised."
Swatting her lightly Hermione grinned again, "You know what I mean. You could tell from the second day that I was hooked; it wasn't as if I was overly subtle. But you—I never thought you could see me that way, ever. I just feel very lucky, Min."
Minerva nodded; she understood what Hermione meant perfectly. She had certainly never expected to be in this situation. And yet, she really was happy with Hermione—indescribably so. Her older self was voicing its objections far less often, and her younger self seemed far more content. While she was obviously having trouble dealing with the ramifications of being outed, she was genuinely alright with being this age. She was even finding it easier to control her temper and her constantly fluctuating emotions, now that she wasn't fighting against her hormones.
Things were far from perfect, but Hermione was.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the fluff. If you are interested in hearing more about updates, other things I'm working on, my writing process, or discussing the story with me personally, consider following me on Twitter. LadyChristineM There is also a link on my profile.
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