I promise, I'm not quitting the Lost Founder Series. I just have a bit of writer's block on it at the moment, greatly due to how heavy the content is as the war picks up. I was in the mood to write something more light in mood, and this is what started to spill out. I will try to finish it with one or two more installments, but as my primary focus is to get back to work on Seeking Time, I make no promise as to when this will happen. I will *cough* say that reviews are highly inspiring to me, so if you want to see more of this story sooner rather than later, do let me know!

1. Go to Hogwarts and find a way to fit in.

Hermione Granger, nearly twelve years of age, had only been at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for a matter of hours. That said, she'd already learned that her Head of House, Severus Snape, was generally not considered to be a kind man, even to his Slytherins. This was why she was sitting in his office presently, staring at him with wide eyes. "Say again?" she breathed, stunned at what he was saying.

"Miss Granger, as it stands, only myself, the Headmaster, and the Deputy are aware of your parentage. It is most unusual that a muggleborn witch or wizard is sorted to Slytherin. It hasn't happened in over a hundred years, as a matter of fact. Given the political climate at the moment, your blood status could put you at risk within your own house, and thereby I am offering to claim you as my daughter, to spare you the ridicule you'd surely face otherwise. I will claim that you are a product of my coupling with a muggle woman, with whom I was not further involved after the fact. You would simply need to claim that your muggle father is actually your step-father, and in conjunction with my claim of you, your blood status would be listed as half-blood. While not favorable, it is acceptable, and will give you no reason to hide your knowledge and appreciation of the muggle world, and yet offer you some protection. Having you claim to be my daughter will offer you further protection given that any member of Slytherin House would know it rather foolish to cause harm to their Head of House's child."

"You're completely serious, aren't you?" Hermione concluded. She was shocked he'd offer, but having read half the textbooks in full before she'd arrived here, she was well aware that a muggleborn in Slytherin was likely to be bullied, or worse. While she hated to lie, she also didn't want to get shoved down a flight of stairs.

Snape nodded. "Given that I have no living family to dispute the claim, I make an ideal candidate for this arrangement. I am also the only fully human male on staff that is the appropriate age."

"Professor Quirrell seems to be close to your age," Hermione countered, going over the Hogwarts staff in her mind.

"I'll be surprised if he lasts a single year at Hogwarts," Snape replied curtly. "And as you will be here for seven, that will do you no good. Further, I do not trust him, and as your Head of House, you are my responsibility in any case. Now, Miss Granger, do you agree to this arrangement or would you prefer to disclose to your fellow Slytherins that you are what most of them consider to be unworthy to own a wand?"

Hermione sighed. "I'll agree to your plan. Given that you are supposedly my father, am I to address you as such?"

"Outside of class only," he agreed. "Even if you were my daughter, you'd be required to address me formally in class. I will not show favoritism."

"I understand," she said. "Anything else?"

"I suppose for good show you might join me for supper in my quarters now and then," Snape suggested. "Perhaps on Saturday evenings?"

"That sounds good," Hermione replied, thinking that perhaps when things were more settled, she could take advantage of Professor Snape's father role in her life, and get him to work with her on more advanced Potions. She hadn't even had her first Potions class yet, but she had the first year textbook memorized. None of it seemed very difficult, and she did like to be challenged.

2. Make friends in each House.

Snape had been giving Hermione lessons on pureblood behavior since term began, and he'd finally taught her something that she thought would help her make friends. Within her own House, she'd become friendly with Draco Malfoy, and with her dormmate Pansy Parkinson. Both Slytherins were pureblood as they came, though they seemed not to mind her diluted blood. Hermione knew it would be a different story if they knew she was muggleborn rather than half-blood, and while that hurt, she appreciated the budding friendships with her Housemates all the same. Now, she just needed to make friends with other Houses.

Within weeks of term starting, she'd managed to get friendly with a couple of Hufflepuffs, Oscar and Natalie, who appreciated her hard working nature, and with a Ravenclaw, Paul, whom she'd met via an argument over which of them would be able to read the newly released Charms book that the Library had just acquired. Hermione, true to her Slytherin nature, had agreed to let Paul read it first, on condition that she could call in a favor some time in the future. Paul agreed, and she was still sitting on an I owe you.

Gryffindors were harder. The rivalry between them and Slytherin House was legendary, and members of either would be hard pressed to speak to the other if not with the inclusion of insults and hexes. Hermione, however, had an unusual trump card that she could use to at least get a Gryffindor to consider speaking to her, and she intended to use it on Harry Potter. Given his fame, if she became friendly with him, in theory the rest of Gryffindor House might be inclined to lessen the rivalry.

"Potter," Hermione called after Transfiguration class, signaling him to wait before exiting.

He came over warily, and Hermione knew the only reason he'd not ignored her outright was because his own Head of House was still standing at the front of the room, watching the scene play out with interest.

"What's up, Granger?" he asked.

"I have a proposition for you," she said. "I'd like to be your friend."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You do know I'm a Gryffindor, right?"

Hermione shrugged. "I nearly was as well. The Sorting Hat thought that, while I'd have done well in Gryffindor, that'd I'd do better with the challenges that being in Slytherin would present me. Had I gone to Gryffindor instead, you and I might already be friends."

"I don't know…" Harry said skeptically. "Your father hates me."

"I'm not my father," Hermione countered. "And anyway, animosity between Houses is what led to the war against the Dark Lord - the reason your parents are dead. I think that if we, our generation, promotes unity between houses and people of different blood statuses, it might prevent a future war. Wouldn't that be a great way to honor your parents' memory?"

Harry looked intrigued now. "Maybe," he said. "I guess I'd be willing to give it a go. Worst case, we don't get along and that's that. And really, the fact that we're even talking is a bit Gryffindor of you. No offense."

"None taken," Hermione replied with a bright smile. "I'm not saying it will be easy, but I think in the long run, it'll be worth it. We can influence others - I can work on Draco and Pansy's tendency to automatically loathe anything not pureblood, and you can work on Weasley and Longbottom and their tendency to assume all Slytherins are going to grow up to be Dark Witches and Wizards."

"Might take awhile," Harry commented.

"We have nearly seven years," she countered.

The dark haired boy cracked a smile. "I'm in."

"Thanks, Potter."

"Harry," he corrected. "And thank you, Hermione."

Knowing it was too soon for them to be seen smiling as they walked side by side, she nodded at him to leave first, and resolved to wait a minute before following.

"Miss Granger?"

Professor McGonagall, whom Hermione had nearly forgotten was standing there, was approaching her position near the door to the classroom. "Yes, Professor?"

"Twenty points to Slytherin, for promoting House unity," the older witch said, smiling. "I've heard you've become friendly with some Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw, but I didn't think you'd have the nerve to have a go at collecting a Gryffindor. You were smart to go for Mister Potter first - he's a very open minded and accepting young man."

"That was the impression I got as well, Professor," Hermione replied. "The way I see it, if someone has the power to effect change, they have the responsibility to do so. I am a muggle-born in Slytherin, as you know. While Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws tend to get along well enough, Slytherins are usually at the head of a conflict. If Slytherins were friendly with other Houses, I think that perhaps they'd be less inclined to cast blanket judgments. I know I'm a child but childhood is when people are most impressionable. Change has to start with us. When we grow up, perhaps we will all be able to work together for a better, united future."

"You are a wise young lady," McGonagall praised. "If you require any assistance in your endeavor, I'd be happy to help."

Hermione looked slyly at the Deputy. "Well, it wouldn't hurt if you and Professor Snape were seen talking to each other in a friendly manner. Show your Gryffindors it's okay to be friendly with Slytherins."

McGonagall laughed. "I suppose you'll be wanting me to pass that thought onto Professors Sprout and Flitwick as well?"

The young Slytherin smirked. "You're the one who offered to help."

"Indeed I was," McGonagall agreed.

3. Pull off a prank that furthers goal of House unity.

Hermione had been planning this for months. The idea had come to her only a week into second year, when she'd been reading a Charms book she'd gotten over the summer holiday. It was rather advanced knowledge, but she'd practiced the charm she'd need and had managed it after only two attempts. No, the charm was actually pretty easy, but on a mass scale, triggering at the same time for each instance… that was the tricky part. Hours and hours of research later, she'd finally found a spell used to transport mass casualties in the case of emergency. It was perfect for what she was planning.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned around to see Professor McGonagall looking curiously at her. While she liked the Gryffindor Head of House well enough, Hermione was more than aware of the fact that McGonagall liked her less and less with each prank she and her friends pulled off. Harry, Ron, Neville, Oscar, Natalie, Paul, Draco, and Pansy often took part in Hermione's pranks, and as McGonagall put it - 'Large scale pranking was not what I had in mind when I agreed to help you promote House unity.' In Hermione's opinion, teens wreaking havoc together had become an invaluable tool in her efforts to get Slytherins included in groups of friends from other houses. Draco and Pansy, while hesitant to be seen with those of less than pure blood, were happy to set aside that prejudice in favor of helping to plan Hermione's first prank, mid way through their first year, which had resulted in each member of the staff being charmed to only be able to talk in rhyme for half a day. Hermione still giggled when she thought of McGonagall's effort to confront her on the matter.

'I may not have proof but I know without doubt,

It was you and your friends who brought this about.

Detention, Miss Granger, each Friday night hence,

Till you are prepared to bend knee and confess.'

Professor Snape had gotten her out of the indefinite detentions, citing that McGonagall truly did not have any proof that Hermione had been responsible, and as such could not punish her. McGonagall had refused to reward her any points for the rest of the year, but Hermione thought it had been worth it.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked with a smirk.

"I know that look, Miss Granger," the Deputy Head accused, frowning. "Whatever it is that you are getting ready to do, I implore you not to do."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about, Professor."

"I'm rather sure you do," McGonagall grumbled. "And I also expect that I will be unable to find evidence that you are responsible for it, and more the shame for that. With your intellect, it's a shame you insist on wasting your time and effort on pranks."

The second year just smiled at her. "If I were responsible for any pranks, which I am certainly not admitting to, then I imagine I'd hold the belief that it's better to tie people together, people from different Houses and walks of life, with memories of fun than memories of helping one another with homework."

"There are other ways to have fun than pranking," the older witch argued.

"Perhaps that's true," the younger conceded. "But, if I were pulling off any pranks, I think that I'd enjoy combining fun with the intellectual exercise that comes along with planning one."

McGonagall sighed. "I am suddenly quite glad you were not sorted to Gryffindor. I don't know how Professor Snape puts up with you."

"You'd have to ask him," Hermione shrugged, trying to appear as though McGonagall's comment had not been hurtful. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Professor, I'd like to get to the Great Hall for lunch."

McGonagall nodded curtly, and Hermione bounded off, stopping off at each other table before taking her seat at the Slytherin one. She leaned over to Draco and Pansy, telling them the same thing she'd just told Harry, Ron, Neville, Oscar, Natalie, and Paul. "Prank impending. Go with it."

Draco grinned. "How pissed is McGonagall going to be this time?"

Pansy laughed. "If I didn't know any better, 'Mione, I'd think you do all these pranks just to get her attention. She's always the first reaction you look for."

"I couldn't care less what she thinks of me," Hermione stated. It was a lie, but lies were told for reasons. Besides, she couldn't explain it to herself, so how could she explain it to her friends, that she felt this odd draw to the woman who seemed to like her less and less as time went on. A part of her wanted to stop pranking so McGonagall wouldn't be so cross with her all the time, but she was afraid that without the pranks, McGonagall wouldn't notice her at all, and that was not alright with Hermione Granger.

Ten minutes later, the whole of the student and staff body was seated and waiting for the Headmaster to issue the order for food to be served. Hermione watched him carefully - timing would be everything - and as soon as his hand waved and food began popping onto the tables, Hermione whispered under her breath: "Portus magnus."

In an instant, staff and students alike were transported into different seats. No student from any one house sat next to someone of the same house, though they did seem to be mostly clumped by age group, with the exception of the Professors. Where once Hermione's friends were scattered across the Great Hall, now all nine of them, including herself, were sitting at the end of what used to be an all Ravenclaw table. Hermione, unable to help herself, glanced around the room and spotted McGonagall sitting between Luna Lovegood and Percy Weasley, and opposite her was Blaise Zabini and Ernie Macmillan, along with Professor Snape.

McGonagall's gaze met Hermione's, and the older witch glared. She looked about ready to get up and outright hex Hermione, though the second year was saved by the Headmaster, who was now seated with Madam Hooch, Ginny Weasley, Gregory Goyle, and Susan Bones. "Well isn't this a splendid change!" his jovial voice carried over the hall. "I trust that each of us might make a new friend as a result of this unexpectedly altered seating arrangement."

Hermione hoped as much. The reason this prank had taken so long to put together was because she'd been carefully gathering a personality profile for each person in the castle, student and teacher alike, hoping to transport people next to others they genuinely had a chance of becoming friends with. It really bothered the second year that people seemed to just assume that if a person wasn't in their House, they were unlikely to find anything in common at all. That couldn't be further from the truth.

"You're a bloody genius, Hermione," Paul praised as he began filling his plate. "This one will go down in Hogwarts history."

"The idea is that the impact of the prank, people making friends outside their houses, will change the course of history," Hermione stated. "The actual prank is just a tool to facilitate the possibility."

"Yo, 'Mione," Ron said, mouth half full. "You might want to not go anywhere alone for a few weeks. Pretty sure if looks could kill, McGonagall would be doing you in right now."

"I'm not worried about her," the Slytherin witch shrugged. "She doesn't really hate the prank. She just hates that she can't prove I'm responsible for it."

Harry laughed. "She just hates that you're smarter than her. I think she's used to being the smartest witch in any given situation, and you're just a kid and showing her up. Worse, you act like it's easy."

Neville shook his head. "Watch it Harry. 'Mione might be able to retreat behind Professor Snape, but we still have to deal with McGonagall. Being friends with her is not doing us any favors."

Hermione knew Neville was only teasing, so she teased right back. "Am I worth the trouble?"

"Yes!" the three Gryffindors agreed, getting the Slytherins, the Hufflepuffs, and the Ravenclaw to all crack up.

4. Get Dad to stop hating Harry.

Hermione entered Professor Snape's quarters on a Saturday evening, just as she had for every Saturday evening at Hogwarts, during the last year and a half. "Dad?" she called.

When Snape had first approached her about claiming to be his child and sparing her the ridicule of being a mudblood in Slytherin, Hermione had expected him to be decent enough about it, but she'd never expected that the both of them would actually begin to relish in it. Snape had taken to being a father like a duck to water: fair but firm, not overly mushy about it, but still caring in his own way. She'd called him Father at first, feeling odd to call someone other than John Granger Dad, though at this point she just kind of accepted that she had two Dads. She certainly didn't love her real dad any less, but he was muggle, and she was not. Snape filled a parental role in the wizarding world which had made transitioning into life as a witch much easier.

She imagined that had she not had that support system from day one, she'd have probably taken ages to make any friends at all. She'd have remained the outcast she was in her muggle school, and probably criticized for her brains rather than praised. Hell, if she'd been sorted to Gryffindor, Harry, Ron, and Neville would probably have been her only friends, and that would have been dependent on her finding the nerve to ask for friendship in the first place. Likely, they would have had to have done something ridiculous like fight a mountain troll together to bond them.

No, Hermione was glad to be a Slytherin. She'd grown more as a person in the last year and a half than she had in the previous twelve.

"Hermione, in the Den," Snape called from the adjoining room. "How was your week?"

"Tensions are pretty high with all the attacks on muggleborns," Hermione replied. "Honestly, I'm a bit worried that whoever is doing the attacking might learn the truth about me."

"Hopefully not," Snape replied. "I do not wish to lose you. You've been a surprisingly pleasant addition to my life."

"Thanks, Dad," Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes.

They chatted mostly about school work while they ate dinner, but after they were done Hermione decided to broach a subject that had really been bothering her. "Dad, why do you hate Harry so much?"

"Potter?" Snape asked, as if there was another Harry she could possibly be talking about.

"No, Houdini," she snarked teasingly. "Yes, Potter."

Snape sighed. "Long story short, he is the product of the woman I have loved all my life, and the man who bullied me all through Hogwarts. I admit to being rather bitter about their coupling."

"So you hate his parentage, I get that," Hermione said. "But Harry is not James, and he is not Lily either. He's his own person and deserves the chance to prove himself before you cast judgment based off your history with his dead parents. I mean seriously, Dad, your behavior towards him rather undermines my efforts to promote House unity."

Snape had the good graces to look thoroughly chastised. Hermione was well aware that she was probably the only person other than Dumbledore who could rebuke Snape and live to tell the tale, and the Headmaster tended to be more kind in his criticisms, according to the Potions Master. Alas, they were both Slytherin, as she'd told Snape once, and there was no need to mince words between them.

The dark haired man sighed. "Fair point. I will make an effort to see young Mister Potter for his own merits and failings. I am not promising to ever like the boy, but for your sake and the sake of your blasted plans, I will try to be at least civil with him. Why choose now to confront me about it, though?"

"He's got enough going on right now without you bullying him," Hermione replied. "He keeps saying he's hearing voices claiming to kill or attack, but none of the others have heard a thing. He worries people think him a liar, and while I do trust Harry, it does seem far fetched."

Snape frowned, and then got up and reached for a book on an upper shelf. "Hermione, have you done any research regarding petrification?"

She nodded, not following the change of direction in the conversation, but giving her mentor the benefit of doubt. "Yes, from what I can tell there are only a few means, and all of them are creatures. We've all assumed the Heir of Slytherin would be directly attacking muggleborns. Creatures that could petrify would be impossible to control."

"What is something that Potter and the founder of Slytherin House have in common?" he asked, snapping the book shut after browsing for only a few minutes.

Hermione thought for a minute, and as soon as she had the answer she understood the turn their conversation had taken. "A basilisk," she whispered. "Salazar Slytherin and Harry were both Parseltongues. There's a giant, bloody, killer snake in the school. But how on earth could it be getting around without being seen? I mean, it would be rather hard to miss."

"I'd be willing to bet that Potter has been hearing the voice from within the walls," Snape replied, reaching for his cloak. The pipes in this castle would be large enough to accommodate a basilisk. Please go directly back to the common room. If you see any students en route, tell them to return at once to dorms, and to pass the message along to anyone they see. I'm going to find the Headmaster. With luck, the danger to this school will be over by breakfast."

"Assuming you can even find it, how will you get into the Chamber of Secrets?" Hermione asked.

Snape paused, and then turned back and picked a vial off a dusty shelf. "Parselpotion," he explained. "It's dreadfully expensive and hard to brew - my own creation - but will make someone a Parselmouth for an hour. I keep it on hand because I have a few books in my personal library that one must be a Parselmouth to read, and I don't like having to stop researching to brew if I find need of one of those books."

Hermione nodded, "Good luck. Be safe, Dad."

"I will," he promised. "You be safe as well."

5. Get McGonagall to lighten up.

It had not been difficult to talk Snape into authorizing a Time Turner for Hermione. She would, of course, only be using it for studying and getting to all her classes. She had to keep a logbook of how many hours she redid, at her dad's request. He wasn't overly concerned about her using it for things she shouldn't, though he did say that war was likely to come sooner or later, and that every hour would count on her magical signature, adding to her age. The more she used the Time Turner, the quicker she'd come of age in the magical sense. Though her body would remain as though she'd not gained age, the laws pertaining to underage restriction were linked to her magical signature, and thus knowing precisely when she'd magically come of age would be helpful if it came to all out war.

Thus far, she'd accumulated nearly two months worth of time added to her magical signature. It was only four months into term. The whole castle was on edge with the still at large Sirius Black, and Snape was no exception. She found his mood irritating of late, and thus didn't spend much of her spare time in the dungeons with him. McGonagall, who had nearly always been snappy with her, was more so than ever and Hermione decided she'd had quite enough of that. The woman needed to lighten up. The young Slytherin hadn't even been pranking much this year - with the troubles with Black Hermione knew her pranks might be interpreted as attacks from him, and she didn't want to add to the rising panic.

Over the last six weeks, Hermione had been using an hour here and an hour there - hours not recorded in her logbook for her dad - to follow McGonagall around, trying to get a grasp on her routine beyond her class schedule. After supper each day, the Gryffindor witch went to the Library and spent an hour doing research for whatever paper she happened to be working on. She usually checked one or two books out, and then she returned to her quarters. Thanks to Harry's invisibility cloak, Hermione was able to sneak into McGonagall's personal rooms behind the elder woman. She'd only done it five times, however, given how she was pretty sure that her Transfiguration Professor would murder first, ask questions later, should she catch the fourteen year old Slytherin.

Witnessing McGonagall behind closed doors had been enlightening for Hermione. The stern expressions eased away in the comfort of the older woman's quarters, allowing the younger to see a different side. The first thing McGonagall always did was mark any homework which she'd not gotten done during her breaks between classes that day. Hermione watched her groan over some, furiously scratch over others in red ink, and rarely, one would make her smile. She had a fourth expression, Hermione noted, that only came up when she came to one of Hermione's essays. First came a sigh of exasperation, then came a comment about that bloody girl, and then to Hermione's surprise five times over, the expression that settled over McGonagall's features while she actually looked the work over was one that clearly spoke of mixed feelings. She'd subtly asked her Dad about it after the third time - obviously not telling him when she'd seen this expression - and according to him, McGonagall likely felt a certain level of respect toward The-Girl-She-Half-Wishes-Had-Been-A-Gryffindor, but at the same time, was the sort of woman who only offered respect once there was equality, and she was likely confused as to how she was feeling such things for a student, who was decidedly not her equal.

The other unsettling thing that Hermione had discovered as she'd watched McGonagall was how beautiful the older witch was. She really didn't know how she hadn't noticed it before. Behind closed doors, the stern Professor would take off her outer robe to show a figure that was surprisingly athletic in build, though not lacking in curves. She tended to talk to herself, mimicking conversations she'd had with other staff members as they frequently asked her for things. "Minerva, can you cover my patrol tonight? Minerva, can you come down to the greenhouses later and transfigure some pots for me? Minerva, can you finish up that letter to the Board about next term's budget? Honestly Albus! All you had written down was To Whom it May Concern!"

Hermione giggled at the memory, as she brushed her teeth on a Saturday morning, ready to execute her plan for getting her Transfiguration Professor to relax. It was rather simple, really. All she needed was… time.

The other evening, when Hermione had most recently been secretly in McGonagall's quarters, she'd noticed a list of things that the older woman intended to do come Saturday. She'd even made notes as to what time of day she'd do them. So, Hermione decided that she was going to beat Minerva to the punch. She'd transfigure some pots for Professor Sprout first, and then on and on with the rest of the requests that her other teachers had made of the Gryffindor Head of House.

After McGonagall had gone to bed last night, Hermione had gone ahead and finished the letter the Headmaster had asked her to write to the Board of Governors, using a handy spell - manum exemplum - to go as far as to mimic McGonagall's penmanship. She'd learned that spell ages ago so she wouldn't get caught helping her various friends, mostly Ron, in doing their homework. The Deputy had already compiled all the information to be added to the missive, so it really had only been about two hours worth of work to organize it and put it into letter form.

Having repeated the hour between seven and eight in the morning six times to accomplish all of McGonagall's tasks for the day, Hermione headed down to breakfast after turning back for one final time. By this point, she was rather hungry.

"You look beat, Hermione," Draco commented when she took a seat beside him. "Did you not sleep well?"

"Just a rough morning thus far," she commented, filling her plate. "I slept enough, though maybe not as much as I should have. I may take a nap later."

"You look like you need it now," he said.

Hermione made a mental note to stop by the hospital wing after breakfast. She could get an Invigorating Draft from Madam Pomfrey, and that should get her by for the rest of the morning at least. She'd turned back enough already today, and didn't want to do so again if she could help it. She could nap after lunch, but she needed to execute phase two of her plans for today yet, before she could sleep. "I'll be fine," Hermione promised Draco.

"Morning Draco, Hermione," Pansy greeted with a smile. "Oh, hell, what are you up to 'Mione? I know that look."

"What look?" the curly haired brunette inquired, sounding bored.

"It's the 'I've keep glancing at McGonagall and I'm pretending I'm not' look. It usually means you're about to pull a prank," Pansy informed her dormmate.

"I'm not... fine," Hermione said, seeing Draco raise his eyebrow in a way that told her he was siding with Pansy. "It's a side project, nothing life altering or prank like."

"But it does have to do with McGonagall," Draco said pointedly.

"Yeah, what of it?"

Pansy smirked. "You're totally crushing on the Head of Gryffindor House."

"I am not!" Hermione yelped, startled by the accusation.

Okay, fine, maybe not that startled. It wasn't as though the concept hadn't crossed her mind the minute she'd caught herself thinking that her Transfiguration Professor was beautiful. Of course, she wasn't stupid enough to admit that to a couple of her fellow Slytherins. As much as she liked Draco and Pansy, she would not put it past either of them to use the information against her, should it suit them.

"If you say so," Harry Potter said, joining them at the Slytherin table to the annoyance of many of the upper year Gryffindors. Most of the third years and below were joining in Hermione's crusade for House unity, but there were fewer older students who could claim the same. "Though I'm with Pansy. You've totally got a thing for McGonagall."

"You're all daft," Hermione huffed. "And I have better things to do than listen to this insanity."

At that, she stood, and made her way out of the hall, smiling as she saw McGonagall leaving as well, obviously headed toward the Greenhouses. Hermione followed, keeping out of sight. The older witch did not seem surprised the task she'd been set to do was already finished - likely Professor Sprout had made a point to thank her over breakfast. No, at this point McGonagall was playing Sherlock Holmes, searching for clues as to how now two of her tasks for today were already done.

Hermione winced as her foot fell on a twig, alerting McGonagall that she wasn't alone. "Who's there?" the Professor demanded, wand drawn.

"Jumpy much?" the Slytherin drawled, trying to sound casual and hardly interested. Good lord, Draco Malfoy was rubbing off on her!

McGonagall relaxed. "Miss Granger. What are you doing down here? I was not under the impression that Herbology was a favorite subject of yours."

"I don't dislike it," she replied with a shrug. "Though Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration are where my passion is."

"I'm flattered," McGonagall offered with a roll of her eyes. "Not that you appreciating my subject makes you any better behaved in my class. A student correcting a teacher, Merlin! Never in all my years of teaching have I had a student correct me. Not until you, and you do it all the time."

"I've only corrected you twelve times in the last three years," Hermione said. "I would know, I keep a tally. Of course, an average of four instances a year is hardly all the time."

"She keeps a tally…" McGonagall sighed. "Of course she does."

"She is standing right here."

"So I've noticed. I don't suppose that go away will actually inspire you to leave me alone, would it?"

"More likely to inspire me to stick around, actually," Hermione said, grinning wickedly. "Honestly Minerva, I would think you'd know me better than that by now."

The Scottish woman raised an eyebrow at the informal addressment. "I do not recall giving you permission to call me that."

"I don't recall you telling me I couldn't," Hermione countered.

"Ah, how remiss of me. You can't call me Minerva."

"Of course we know how often I actually listen to you," the younger witch said with a little sigh. "And of course, now that you've specifically said I can't, I'll obviously be calling you by your given name every chance I get."

"Oh bloody grand," McGonagall, or rather, Minerva said. "I would give you detention, but I know you'll either get Severus to get you out of it, or you'll do your time and keep calling me by name anyway."

"That about sums it up," Hermione agreed. "Though if it makes you feel any less inclined to give me detentions all the time, I could compromise and only call you by name when we're alone. But that would be under the condition that you don't give me detentions for calling you by name outside of class."

"How very sporting of you, Miss Granger," Minerva sighed. "Fine, we have an accord."

"You might as well call me Hermione," the younger woman offered cheekily. "Since you're being so kind as to allow me to address you informally and all."

Minerva paused, considering before she replied to the young Slytherin. "I'm not sure what's wrong with you, Hermione, but I bet it's hard to pronounce."

"I hardly think there's anything wrong with being one of a kind."

"Perhaps not," Minerva conceded. "And you are that."

Hermione smiled, knowing that at this point, her mark was primed for the punchline. "You should take advantage of the fact that you have nothing you have to do today, and relax," she commented.

"I have a list of things to do, however much I'd love to be curled up by the lake, reading a book," Minerva groaned.

With an eye roll, the young Slytherin reached into her pocket and handed Minerva the very book she was in the middle of reading. "Your list is done. All of it. You looked like you needed a day off, so I arranged for you to have one."

For the first time in the history of their interactions, Minerva McGonagall was speechless. Hermione smirked, stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the older woman's cheek, and bounded off toward the Dungeons, hopeful for a nap before lunch.

As always, PLEASE REVIEW! I covet your thoughts!