Not sure where this idea came from, but basically it's a MM/HG, told from neither of their perspectives. Each section is from another person's point of view, when those particular people found out about their relationship. Thus the title "Found Out".

NOTE: This fic disregards the fact that Hermione altered her parents' memories.

Harry Potter looked intently at the Marauder's map with a look of confusion on his face. After their sixth year Transfiguration class this afternoon, Hermione had disappeared. They had just gotten back from Christmas break, so he didn't imagine Hermione was already retreating to the Library, but she'd been nowhere else to be found, so he'd made his way down there. After still not finding his friend, Harry had resorted to the map, and where he found the dot labeled Hermione Granger was causing him a lot of concern.

She was in Professor McGonagall's quarters. Not her office. Her quarters. As a matter of fact, the dot marking Hermione and the dot marking Professor McGonagall seemed to be regularly overlapping in one section of the room. Why would the dots me on top of each other?

Harry gasped, realization dawning on him. That section was where the bed was. Hermione was in bed with Professor McGonagall. And she was on top of Professor McGonagall. And, oh, fancy that, Professor McGonagall was now on top of her. "Bloody hell," Harry muttered to himself, closing his eyes tightly. "Mischief Managed", he said, tapping the parchment with his wand.

A few hours later, Hermione snuck into the Gryffindor common room, where Harry was still waiting. Ron and everyone else had gone to bed at least an hour before, but he had elected to stay up and confront Hermione.

"Harry?" Hermione said, noticing him sitting by the fire.

"Hermione, would you like to tell me where you've been all evening?" he asked, "Or should I just make assumptions based on certain dots they I noticed overlapping on the map?"

"Shit." Hermione squeaked.

"So you and Professor McGonagall?" he whispered, losing all hope that his assessment had been off base. "Are…involved?"

Hermione nodded timidly. "Please don't tell anyone, Harry. She could get in such trouble…"

"I won't," Harry assured her quietly. "I just wanted to know…do you…er…love her?"

"Very much, Harry," Hermione replied.

"How long have you two been…together?" was his next question.

"Since last Christmas, when you had that dream about Mr. Weasley," Hermione replied. "You and Ron and the rest went to Headquarters that night, and I didn't go until a few days later, remember? Dumbledore asked Minerva to keep a close eye on me during those couple of days, and well…"

Harry nodded. "Well, I guess just let me know when you're going over to her quarters, so I can make sure I'm not looking at the map with Ron while you're there."

Hermione hugged him. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry just nodded and watched as she walked away, towards the girls dorms. He wasn't mad – he understood why she had to keep it all a secret. He wasn't freaked out either – okay, so maybe a little because it was McGonagall, but not about Hermione liking girls. Harry shuddered as he started to make for his own dorm. It was just weird to think of a girl who was like a sister to him, having sex with their much older female teacher. Seriously, how much more awkward of a mental picture could he have thought up?

Ginny Weasley almost jumped out of her skin when she heard a loud bang coming from the broom closet she just happened to be walking by. She had just finished with her OWL exams for the day, and was headed to the Lake to get some fresh air. Most others had retreated to the common rooms, but…

BANG!

Ginny stopped at the second loud thud against the door, unsure if she should stay still or run the other way.

"Oh god! Hermione, that feels so good!" an accented voice said through the door.

Ginny's jaw dropped. There was only one Hermione at Hogwarts. A moment later, Ginny realized that the accented voice was female. "Hermione you lesbo!" the young red-head quietly laughed. Who would have thought?

Ginny stood there listening for a few more minutes, listening to the exchange, but unable to identify Hermione's apparent lover. She elected to hide around the corner, and wait for them to finish, before 'accidently bumping into them'. After a bit, she heard the door open, and Hermione spoke.

"I'll go this way, you go that way," Hermione instructed.

Ginny wondered which of them would be headed her direction. If it was Hermione, then she would not be able to find out who the other woman was. A moment later, a tall, dark haired woman rounded the corner. She had green eyes and wore robes of nearly the exact same color.

"Professor McGonagall?" Ginny yelped.

The older woman looked at her curiously. "Can I help you with something, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny's temper got the better of her about ten seconds later. "HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER! YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT THIS SECOND AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF!"

"Oh, dear," Professor McGonagall muttered.

Hermione rounded the corner a moment later, having obviously run back. "Ginny?"

The red-haired girl looked from her friend to her Professor, back and forth for a moment. "Are you guys shagging?"

"That is the last time I indulge one of your fantasies, Hermione," Professor McGonagall hissed to the older of the two Gryffindors.

"You seemed to be enjoying it," Hermione replied with a goofy grin.

"Oi!" Ginny yelled. "I CAN'T KNOW THIS!"

"Sorry, Gin," Hermione apologized quietly. "Yes, Minerva and I are involved. No one knows except Harry, and now you. Please, for me, keep this to yourself."

Ginny sighed. "Course I won't tell, 'Mione. Just damn, I am scarred for life. No more random broom closets."

"Thank you," both Hermione and Professor McGonagall said.

"Oh, and Professor?" Ginny said.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"I am, admittedly, impressed," Ginny said with a grin.

"GINNY!" Hermione rebuked, blushing.

The younger girl just kept grinned. Shock having worn off, Ginny did understand how these two witches could be good for each other, weird as it may look from first glance. She had promised not to tell, but there was no way she wasn't going to use this to tease the hell out of Hermione for the foreseeable future.

Ron Weasley grumbled to himself. He and Harry and Hermione were out hunting for Horcruxes now, and it really, really sucked. Not much to eat, cold, and no place to take a decent bath. They'd just moved camp, and Hermione had gone to set the wards half hour ago. According to Harry, it only usually took her fifteen minutes to do it, so he'd sent Ron off to go make sure she was alright while he finished putting up the tent.

Lousy as things were, he'd already ditched on Harry and Hermione once, and he was not going to do it again.

Ron stopped in his tracks when he saw Hermione sitting on the ground, bawling her bloody eyes out. "Hey, Hermione," he said, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Hermione quickly wiped her tears on her sleeve. "Nothing, Ronald. Did Harry send you to find me?"

"Yes he did," Ron admitted. "But you don't cry like that for no reason. What's up? You can talk to me, you know."

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "I'm just missing someone, Ron. On top of which I have an upset stomach."

"Were you seeing someone at school?" Ron asked, scratching his head.

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "We've been together since middle of fifth year."

"How come you didn't tell me and Harry?" Ron wanted to know, trying to keep his temper under control, despite feeling a bit annoyed. "Who is the lucky bloke?"

"It doesn't matter, Ronald," Hermione replied with a sigh. "I'm just being overly emotional. I don't know why –"

"Oh, blimey," Ron said suddenly, a lightbulb going off in his head. He pointed at Hermione with his wand and muttered a spell. Nearly at once, Hermione's abdomen began to glow white, with two smaller blue spots moving around inside.

"Shit!" Hermione said, smacking her forehead with her palm. "I am such an idiot!"

"You're pregnant, 'Mione," Ron said in disbelief. "You're like, six months pregnant. With twins."

Hermione started laughing hysterically. "She's going to kill me."

Harry, who apparently had gotten tired of waiting for them to return, joined them. "Who's gunna kill you, 'Mione?" he asked.

Hermione kept laughing. "Minerva," she replied. "Harry, I'm pregnant. I can't believe I didn't realize. I mean, now that I think about it all the signs are there, and I do know that my mum was practically ready to give birth and hardly showed…"

Harry got a very screwed up look on his face. "I do not want to think about what was involved with how you got pregnant by Professor McGonagall."

"BY WHO?!" Ron snapped, totally thrown. When Hermione had said 'Minerva' a minute ago, he thought she just meant that their old Professor would be concerned that she was on the run like this while expecting a baby. Not that she was the…er…other parent, of said baby…no, scratch that, babies. "Somebody better tell the what the bloody hell I'm missing!"

Harry put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Short version is this; Hermione and Professor McGonagall have been shagging like cats in heat since the Christmas your dad got hurt."

"I'm gunna be sick," Ron said, turning green. He then turned the other way and promptly threw up what little was in his stomach to start with.

Poppy Pomfrey looked up from her desk when she heard a tap on her office door. "Hello, Minerva," she said. "What can I do for you?"

"I need a stock of pre-natal potions," her longtime friend said softly, blushing. "Enough to last three months, at least."

Poppy dropped her quill. "Minerva, are you…?"

"Not for me," Minerva replied quickly.

The Hogwarts Matron looked at the other woman skeptically. "Then why are you blushing?" she inquired.

"I've just received a message from my lover," Minerva explained, grinning sheepishly. "It is she who is pregnant. With twins, it seems.

Poppy stared at her longtime colleague and shock. "She?"

Minerva nodded. "She."

"Pregnant?"

"Yes."

Poppy racked her brain trying to think of who Minerva might be involved with. No one age appropriate came to mind. "She should come in for an exam," the Matron said, subtly prodding for details. "At her age, pregnancy could be quite difficult."

Minerva looked a bit uncomfortable. "She cannot, as she is on the run. And she's plenty young to have children, Poppy."

"How young?" Poppy demanded, getting a sneaking suspicion she was not going to like the answer.

"She's um…" Minerva stammered. "Eighteen?"

"Merlin's beard!" Poppy yelped. "You bedded a student, Minerva?"

Minerva frowned. "Yes, Poppy. I did. I feel guilty enough about that as it is. Don't rub it in."

Suddenly a name came to Poppy's mind. A girl she knew was on the run, who was eighteen years old, who she grudgingly admitted was exactly the kind of person who Minerva would gravitate toward. "Granger," she muttered softly. "It's Hermione Granger."

Minerva nodded. "Yes."

"When this mess of a war is over, you better damn well make an honest woman out of her," Poppy determined, standing and walking over to her potions stores. "She's got too much going for her to have it ruined because her teacher knocked her up."

Minerva had the good grace to look ashamed of herself. "The pregnancy was not planned, Poppy, and yes we should have been more careful. It's killing me to think of her out there with Potter and Weasley, living in harsh conditions, carrying my children. God knows what she'll do if she has to give birth before this war ends. She said they are getting close to finding what they need to destroy You-Know-Who, but she's due the first week of May. That's not too long."

Suddenly, the strong, stoic woman that Poppy had always known melted into a puddle of panic. Minerva's eyes got wide, and she seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack.

"What if something goes wrong?" Minerva asked, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. "What if one or both of the babies die? What if Hermione dies? What if all three of them die? What if I get killed and Hermione is left to raise our children alone? We're not married! She won't have any claim to my Gringott's accounts at all, and will be doomed to poverty! What if…"

Poppy handed Minerva a small vial. "Calming drought. Drink up," she instructed.

Minerva downed the potion in one gulp, and a minute later her shoulders stopped shaking. "I love her so much, Poppy."

"I can tell," the matron whispered, continuing to gather various potions that would assist Hermione through the remainder of the pregnancy, as well as some of what she'd need for giving birth, should it come to that. "We'll take care of her, Minerva. Don't worry."

Molly Weasley pulled Hermione Granger into a hug, and was surprised to realize that the baggy sweatshirt that the girl was wearing was actually concealing a rather sizable bulge that seemed attached to the young Gryffindor's stomach. "Hermione, what's under your shirt, dear?"

The eye of the storm was upon them now, as Voldemort had called back his forces and allowed them to bury their dead. Molly's son, Fred, was among those lost tonight, but Molly was trying not to think about that. There'd be time for mourning later.

"My stomach," Hermione replied, looking like she was in a good deal of pain. "My very pregnant stomach."

"Who's the father?" Molly asked, wondering if her younger son, Ron, had done this to Hermione. He was in for one hell of a lecture if he had. The middle of a war was no time to have babies.

"Oh no," Hermione suddenly moaned, leaning forward and clutching her stomach. "I think my water just broke."

Molly wasted no time. She knew what having babies was like better than most, and war or no war, this birth was happening now. "Let's get you to the Hospital Wing," she said, coaxing Hermione out of the disheveled Great Hall.

"MINERVA!" Hermione suddenly screamed.

Molly patted Hermione's back, confused as to why Hermione would be calling for her own longtime friend. "I'm sure Professor McGonagall is quite busy right now, young lady."

"Not too busy for her," a brisk Scottish voice said. Minerva had apparently rushed over after hearing Hermione scream.

"It's really hurts," Hermione muttered, looking up at the battle worn witch. "And I'm blaming the poor timing on you."

Minerva chuckled. "I'll take her from here, Molly."

Molly had always known Minerva to go out of her way for others, but this seemed a bit odd. The Weasley matriarch knew she was missing something, she just didn't know what. Speaking of missing, Molly realized that the bloke about to be a father should be here as well. "Hermione, who's the father? I'll go find him and meet you up in the Hospital."

"No father," Hermione grunted. "Rather, a second mother."

Molly stood there, brain registering what Hermione had just said. She must have looked rather confused, which she was, because Minerva proceeded to clarify.

"She's talking about me, Molly," Minerva said, continuing to urge Hermione forward. "Hermione is my lover. I am the one who fathered these children."

Molly stood still as Hermione and Minerva continued to press forward towards the Hospital Wing. Minerva was the father of Hermione's children…wait! Children? Twins? Minerva and Hermione? Lovers? Hermione was a lesbian? Minerva was a lesbian? Minerva had bedded someone who was her student?

When Molly finally found her tongue, she could only think of one thing to say. "Son of a bitch."

Jean Granger was surprised to hear a knock at the door. It was a bit late in the evening for anyone to be calling. Regardless, the muggle dentist walked to her front door to answer. She was rather stunned at who she saw. "Professor McGonagall?"

Jean had met Professor Minerva McGonagall a couple of times over the course of her daughter's education at Hogwarts, and every single time the woman had seemed the very picture of 'put together'. Today, however, she had various abrasions and bruises on her visible skin, her hair was, rather than up in a tight bun, haphazardly pulled back in a long ponytail that ran nearly all the length of her back. She was wearing a much more casual robe than Jean had ever seen on her before, and she looked absolutely exhausted. After thirty seconds of taking in the woman's image, Jean realized that she wouldn't be here, like this, if something wasn't wrong.

"What's wrong with Hermione?"

Minerva smiled. "Nothing, per say. She is in labor, and asked that I come and fetch you. Actually, she ordered me to do so, and do so immediately, so I apologize for my unseemly appearance."

Jean was startled. "Labor? As in, pregnant? As in, having a baby?"

"Twins, actually," McGonagall sighed. "She couldn't possibly have just had one. Typical Hermione, always doing things more than one hundred percent. I should have known."

Jean looked curiously at her daughter's Professor. For a teacher, this woman seemed awfully…privy to the details of Hermione's life. Regardless, she had no reason not to trust what this woman was saying, so she decided to leave questions for later, and just go with it. "Let me go get my husband," she said.

The muggle woman nodded for McGonagall to step inside while she collected her purse and her husband. "John! Get your stuff. We're going to see Hermione!"

John bounded down the stairs with a concerned look on his face, the expression become more pronounced when he saw the witch standing in the kitchen. "Is 'Mione okay?"

"She's apparently about to give birth. How she managed to go nine months without sending a note to let us know she was even pregnant, I'd love to know…" Jean grumbled.

"She didn't realize herself until she was nearly six months along," McGonagall said.

"Carried small like me, eh?" Jean asked, still puzzled at why this woman had so many details.

"That was what she said," the witch replied.

"Okay, let's go, ladies," John said, grabbing his coat. "We going to that castle?"

McGonagall nodded. She touched each of the muggles, one hand on either of their shoulders, and a moment later they were all three standing at the Gates of Hogwarts. "What the bloody hell was that?" Jean asked, gasping.

"Apperation, sorry," McGonagall said. "This way, as soon as you've found your footing. Hermione promised to wait till we got back, but babies seldom cooperate with their parents' wishes."

Jean and John followed their daughter's teacher up the path to the school, and directly into the Hospital Wing. Jean shuddered as she thought of the last time she'd been here, when Hermione was twelve and had been…what was it called…petrified. She'd been scared to death, despite assurances that the cure was being made as soon as possible.

"Mum, dad!" Hermione called. "Over here."

Jean and her husband walked over to the bed their daughter was resting in, obviously drenched in sweat from the effort of labor. "Oh, honey. Why didn't you tell us you were pregnant?"

"Honestly?" Hermione huffed, biting her lip as another contraction came. "I was a bit busy fighting a war, I couldn't exactly stop by for a visit. I couldn't send a note, either, because the mail was being intercepted everywhere and I couldn't let anyone find out I was pregnant – those who would want to hurt me, that is."

Jean nodded, understanding. Hermione had offered to set her and John up with some protection and hide them from the war, but they had refused, saying that they would rather take their chances than uproot their lives indefinitely. "How's that war going, anyhow?" she asked.

"It ended a few hours ago. Voldemort is dead. I picked the middle of the final battle of the war to go into labor," Hermione said cheekily.

"Who knocked you up, 'Mione?" John suddenly inquired.

"John!" Jean said sharply, elbowing her husband.

"What?" he said. "I just noticed there's no bloke here holding my baby girl's hand while she goes through this, so I was wondering whose ass I need to be dragging over her."

Hermione sighed. "Daddy, I appreciate the heroics, but if you notice, someone is holding my hand."

Jean and John both looked to the side of Hermione's bed, and realized that the woman who'd come to fetch them was sitting beside their daughter, holding her hand tightly.

"Ohh…ow, ow, ow, ow, ow…" Hermione suddenly muttered, having another contraction.

"I'm here, baby," McGonagall said softly, holding Hermione's hand.

Jean stared at the scene before her. Was she seeing what she thought she was seeing? No. It couldn't be. McGonagall was just stepping in as a surrogate mother to Hermione in the wizarding world. That explained everything about why she was so close to her daughter. Baby didn't have to mean 'Baby, oh baby', or whatever.

"I love you, Min," Hermione whispered through the pain.

Jean shifted uncomfortably at her daughter's words, but still held tightly to the idea that this McGonagall was a mother figure.

Suddenly, the Hogwarts Matron, Madam Pomfrey, came over. "Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Welcome back to Hogwarts."

"Thank you," Jean said, nodding politely.

"Minerva, move it." Madam Pomfrey snapped, trying to get close enough to Hermione to cast diagnostic spells. A moment later she spoke again. "Do you want to know he sexes? It's going to be another couple hours before the birth," she said. "You could spend that time picking out names."

Jean watched as Hermione and her Professor looked at each other, seeming to confer with each other telepathically.

"Yes, we would," McGonagall finally said.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Two boys," she said. "I'd like to start getting the paperwork done while we wait. Will these two boys be Grangers or McGonagalls?"

Jean gulped. The axe had swung. Despite every denial that the relationship between her daughter and Minerva McGonagall was platonic, there was only one possible reason why Madam Pomfrey would ask that question.

"McGonagall, of course," Hermione laughed. "You did make her promise to make an honest woman out of me, didn't you? When we marry I'll be a McGonagall too, so why make them Grangers for a short time?"

"That was a crappy proposal, my dear," Minerva pouted.

"I was not proposing," Hermione clarified. "I was merely expressing that I expect to be proposed to, at some point in the future."

"Eh-hem," Jean said, finally past the point of holding back her questions. "Hermione, dear? Is there something you would like to tell your father and I?"

Hermione stared dumbly at her parents for a moment before it clicked. "Oh, right. Mum, dad, I believe you've already met Minerva. She is my lover."

Jean sighed. Well, so much for that mother-figure idea.

The birth announcement for Malcolm and Hugo McGonagall knocked Voldemort's demise off headline news of The Daily Prophet as soon as an unknown source told Rita Skeeter about the event three days after the twins were born. The gossip circles had barely calmed down about it when Minerva McGonagall and Hermione Granger were married just ten days after the birth of their sons, reigniting the wizarding world's interest in the love affair of the century. It wasn't until twenty years later that Dennis Creavy wrote a biography about the couple that he admitted to be the one to inform the newspaper about the twins' birth. He dedicated the book to his late brother, Colin, who had appearently known about the affair all along, having witnessed their first kiss, though they never knew he'd been there. Colin's memory of the event had been given to Dennis, who locked it away in his Gringots vault. What had happened to bring the two witches together was something nobody would believe, and did not need to be shared.

"Hermione Granger what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" a furious Minerva McGonagall shouted upon finding her sixteen year old student in the Headmaster's tower, standing over the Pensieve, apparently in some of Minerva's memories. It was not only against the school rules to break into a professor's office, but it was a gross violation of privacy to be in someone else's memory without permission. Like forced Ligitimancy, many witches and wizards considered it a form of rape.

Hermione turned to her teacher and grinned. "Getting your attention."

Minerva sputtered. "Well you have it, Miss Granger! Now what do you have to say for yourself?"

The teen had shrugged, as if what she was about to say was no big deal. "I'm madly in love with you, and I'm pretty sure you feel the same. I was going to let you continue on with pushing me away and then pulling me back in, but I decided that as a Christmas present I'd let you fuck me blind, instead."

Minerva stared, jaw dropping.

"Yes, Minerva. I know you fancy me. You've been found out." Hermione said calmly, stepping closer to the oldwitch. "Now are you going to kiss me or not?"

Five seconds later, Minerva kissed her.

I'm not sure if I'd call this one of my best, but I'll leave judgment up to you guys. This is another edition of "MNA loves you so much that she types up oneshots during breaks at work on her tablet. Very slow work, I tell you." Please review!