A/N: Hello All! I've been working on this story for a while, and am a good ways into writing it. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I've been enjoying writing it. Please review and let me know what you think! More updates soon!

Vibrant colors danced before Minerva's eyes as she fought desperately for consciousness. Her arms and legs weighed heavily against the bed, begging her to continue sleeping, to stay still. It was as if she had decided to drink an entire bottle of Skelegrow on a whim. Her body felt as if it was several sizes to small, her bones moving stiffly and painfully, stretching her skin unpleasantly.

Blinking painfully she forced her eyes open, furrowing her eyebrows at the incoming sunlight and the bright color scheme of the Hospital Wing. The hospital wing—she should have guessed as much. Her eyes adjusted painfully as she scanned the room for Poppy. As if hearing her thoughts, the mediwitch suddenly appeared from around the corner, carrying a tray full of colorful potions.

Rounding the corner, she caught Minerva's eye, "Oh, thank goodness you're awake. I had worried this may be more troublesome than planned. Take these potions," she ordered, handing over three different vials, each in a vibrant shade. Drinking the potions quickly, Poppy smiled. "It's so nice when you aren't being argumentative."

Minerva rolled her eyes lightly, and then paused to chuckle for a moment. She had broken her eye-rolling tendencies years ago, where had that urge come from?

"Poppy," she asked carefully, "What exactly happened? Why am I here?"

Poppy sighed softly, her mouth forming a thin line of disapproval, "I'm sorry, Min, but Dumbledore insisted on explaining it to you himself. Rest assured you're entirely alright, there's just a bit of…unusual activity going on."

"Poppy—" she tried again, but the mediwitch firmly shut her mouth and walked away, hands in the air. Minerva frowned, something wasn't right; otherwise she would already have her answers.

She felt the potions take effect, one of them obviously being a pain potion, and sighed happily at the results. While her body still felt unfathomably strange, she was no longer in pain, and the dreadful headache had gone away. She shut her eyes for a moment, enjoying the silence.

Opening her eyes again, she found Albus standing just outside of her curtained off area, "Good Morning, Minerva. I hope that I'm not disturbing your rest, Poppy had sent a patronus to alert me to your waking, and I assumed you would be curious."

Minerva smiled, "Curious, that's a good word for it. What the hell is going on, Albus?" She found herself surprised, and blushing lightly. Much like her habit of rolling her eyes, after years of teaching, she had almost entirely given up on swearing—yet there it was.

"I will explain everything, if you will just give me a moment. Please, Minerva, allow me to tell you everything I know before asking any questions."

Minerva nodded nervously, her eyebrows once again furrowing. Something was definitely not alright.

"Two days ago you were subject to a rather nasty prank—it was apparently aimed at a muggleborn student, but you got in the way," he explained. "Misters Weasely, I've been informed, have recently been working on a new potion which causes a temporary de-aging. They mean to put it in candies, much like their Canary Creams. Unlike other aging and de-aging potions, the one which they are designing will only last for five to ten minutes, thus creating no real danger."

"Albus," Minerva started suspiciously, but he held up a hand to silence her.

"Please, Minerva, let me finish," he said politely, yet firmly. She shut her mouth, glaring at him slightly. "They have not yet perfected their potion though, so they haven't been using human test subjects or selling the products, obviously. Apparently a young Slytherin heard them discussing it while perusing their shelves, and took it upon himself to steal a sample from their store room."

Minerva's eyes widened—a potion like that, untested, could be incredibly dangerous.

"The Slytherin attempted to douse a muggleborn student with the potion, and you stepped in the way. Minerva, you very likely saved the girl's life, you should know that," he informed carefully, "But you were covered with a substantial amount of this potion."

Minerva could no longer hold in her questions, interrupting Albus quickly, "Are you telling me that I have been affected by an untested de-aging potion?"

He nodded uhappily, "Severus, along with both of the Weasely's are working tirelessly to find an antidote—but at the moment, we don't know how long the potion will last. It may wear off after several days, or it could be a permanent change."

Minerva shut her eyes tightly, "Albus, how old am I?" she whispered.

The heavy sigh which he let out would have told her enough, even without the simple answer which followed, "Eighteen years old, Minerva."

Her green eyes shot open, "Eighteen?! Albus, I cannot be eighteen years old again!"

"I know, Minerva, I know. We are doing everything we can to fix this—but in the mean time you have to make do."

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, attempting to calm her temper. There was nothing which could be done at this point in time, so she would simply have to accept it. She was Minerva McGonagall, she could handle anything.

"Alright," she said quietly, "What's the plan then, I'm assuming you have one."

He looked at her closely over his spectacles, scrutinizing whether or not she was truly alright to continue. Apparently finding what he needed, he nodded carefully, "We have found a replacement for your classes for the time being, and a rumor has circulated about your needing to leave the country due to your health, you're supposedly staying with your brother Malcolm. Only two students were witness to your injury, and both are convinced that the results were what caused you to leave the country," Minerva nodded, all of this made sense. "While we search for a cure, you will need to be nearby—for testing, as well as observation. Should your health change in any way, we need to know that."

"Naturally," Minerva confirmed.

"During that time," Albus paused, almost looking nervous, "During that time, I believe it would be best if you played the role of a seventh year student."

"A student, Albus!" she exclaimed, "I can't possibly pretend to be a student; I'm well on the verge of elderly."

"I know, Minerva, but I can find no other reason why a woman of your age would be living in the castle—I'm sorry."

Minerva closed her eyes, and attempted to calm her temper again. It wasn't working, but she knew they needed to continue. "Tell me the rest, Albus."

At that point he continued without pause, simply giving her the information she needed. She was appreciative for his straight-forwardness. She couldn't have handled an afternoon of sympathetic glances.

Her name would be Mary Margaret McSweeney, the initials making it easier to remember her new name. She would be a home-taught student, until her parents were killed by death-eaters. Also easy to remember, as her parent's had been killed by death eaters—though that had been twenty years earlier. She would be in Gryffindor, and would be assigned a student to 'show her around' for her first week.

At that, Minerva had snorted unattractively, though she agreed with Albus that any normal new student would require that sort of assistance.

"Take the rest of the day to rest, Minerva. Your body has been through quite a bit of stress recently. Tomorrow is Sunday, take the morning to go gather any supplies you may need from Hogsmeade, and meet me at the doors at 1 p.m. From there I will accompany you to the Gryffindor tower, and introduce you."

"Albus, are we quite sure that it's necessary for me to do all of this pretending? I know that there is some danger, but wouldn't it be much simpler to just alert the students to the mistake and continue on as if nothing has changed?"

Albus sighed unhappily, "Unfortunately, this is a severely dangerous potion—had it been used on the student, she would have died due to her inability to de-age any further. We cannot let others learn of it while it's still in this stage," he explained, "Beyond that, we still don't know all of the effects this potion has had on you, and until we know that you are entirely stable we should be quite wary."

Minerva nodded, "Alright, Albus. I suppose you're right."

The headmaster stood up, grasping her hand lightly, "I really am sorry, Minerva. We'll sort this out as soon as possible."

The following morning, Minerva had to stop herself from hexing Albus as they stood in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. She could see the laughter in his eyes as he explained the password to her—the password she had set not two weeks before.

"Panthero Leo," he said finally, watching as the portrait swung open. He stepped through first, having to bend to stop his head from hitting the doorway, and she followed just behind.

Entering the common room with Albus was an interesting experience—partially, she was relieved because all attention was focused on the Headmaster. It wasn't every day that he entered a common room, on the other hand—as soon as they noticed the small woman beside him, all attention moved straight to her.

For the first time in many years, she found herself self-consciously staring at her feet, and tugging her skirt nervously. Were the skirts always this short? They couldn't have been—and since when were her legs quite this long?

After years of being primarily attached to the adjective, formidable, she didn't quite know what to do. She was obviously not formidable in her eighteen year old body, and she didn't know what else to be.

"Gryffindors," Albus introduced kindly, "If I may have your attention! I would like to introduce Miss. Mary McSweeney, she is joining us for the remainder of her schooling, and I expect you will welcome her entirely."

The students simply stared at her, some with welcoming smiles, others with unmasked curiosity. A few even had the nerve to look at her with, if she was not entirely mistaken, something akin to lust. This was not going to be fun.

As Albus slowly crossed the room, the students went back to their previous activities—or made an attempt to look like they returned to them. They were rather obviously whispering about their newest student, not that she could blame them. "Miss. Granger," Albus said kindly, causing Minerva to look up quickly. He couldn't possibly—"Miss. Granger, this is Mary, the student I talked to you about yesterday." Yes… yes he could.

"Mary, this is Hermione Granger, she is Head Girl this year, and one of the brightest witches Hogwarts has ever seen. She has agreed to show you around for your first few days."

Hermione blushed scarlet at the introduction, "It's a pleasure, Mary," she said, holding out her hand.

Minerva took it quickly, "Thank you, Miss. Granger. I appreciate your help."

It took Minerva a moment to realize why Hermione looked so confused, and then she started laughing, "Oh Mary, you simply must call me Hermione. Only the professor's call me Miss. Granger."

"I'm sorry, Hermione." Minerva laughed awkwardly, "I don't know what came over me."

Albus clapped his hands joyfully, "Well this seems to be working out wonderfully. If you need anything, Miss. McSweeney, don't hesitate to ask. And thank you again, Miss. Granger."

"Anytime, Professor," she smiled as he made is way out of the common room.

Minerva found herself staring at her feet again, another bad habit she was picking up from her adolescent body. "If it isn't too much trouble," she asked, "Would it be possible for you to show me where I'll be rooming? I would like to get settled in…"

"And escape as well," Hermione said knowingly, glancing around at her staring classmates. "They can be a bit much. Follow me."

Hermione led her up past the 7th year dormitories, and Minerva had to stop herself from asking why—Mary wouldn't know where the 7th year dormitories were, would she? Minerva furrowed her eyebrows when she realized where Hermione was taking her, what on earth was going on?

Hermione opened a door at the very top of the stairs, and beckoned Minerva inside.

"Usually," she explained, "You would be staying a floor below, with all of the seventh years. But it's a very large class this year, and you would be rooming with eight other girls. I thought—I mean, if it's alright with you—I thought that after so many years living at home, that may be a bit of a shock. So I convinced Professor Dumbledore to allow me to split my dormitory, so you would have a bit more privacy. My room is larger than most, being that I'm head girl, so there's plenty of room. It's not perfect, but it's better than living with the eight of them." She said this all very quickly, and Minerva found herself smiling at the nervous antics of Hermione Granger.

She had just willingly given half of her space to a complete stranger, and yet she was still convinced she would be rejected in some way. "Hermione, that's wonderful, but you really don't have to."

Hermione just shrugged, "I get bored living on my own anyways—after living with Lavender and Pavarti for years, I don't remember what quiet is anymore."

Minerva grinned, knowing full well what it must have been like to live with the two Gryffindor gossips. "Not that I'm loud, mind you. I'm just not bothered by noise—if you're noisy, not that I think you will be," she rambled. "Oh bugger, I'm just messing this all up, aren't I?"

"Not at all," Minerva responded finally, "This is far too generous of you, and will certainly make me feel more at home. I was rather dreading the living arrangement here, but this seems far more to my liking."

Hermione beamed at that, happy to have helped. "Well, I'll just leave you be to settle in, shan't I? If you want to meet us downstairs in a little while, you can join my friends and I for dinner. They won't ogle you as much as most."

Minerva nodded, "That would be lovely."

With a small wave, Hermione left the room, and Minerva sunk down on the bed. She glanced around the room, and smiled. Of course Hermione didn't know that Mary had been Head Girl herself, many years ago. And she didn't know how at home Mary would feel in this room—but it did help, it helped so much.

She felt terrible for encroaching on the young witch's space, after so many years fighting, Hermione deserved the reward of a private room and bath, but Minerva simply couldn't tell her no, especially after Hermione had obviously gone to quite a bit of effort to perfect the room.

The room was painted a pale gold, with a richer shade of curtains. Hermione had obviously lined the room with bookshelves, as those had never previously been there, yet she had cleared off several on Minerva's side of the room. There were two full sized beds, each with a deep red comforter and sheets. A wooden dresser stood next to her bed, and her trunk had already appeared at the foot.

Yes, she could certainly live here in peace. And living with Hermione as a roommate was all the better. She was one of Minerva's favorite students, and Minerva knew her to be fairly quiet when she was on her own, and exceptionally organized. There was no reason why their living arrangement shouldn't work out splendidly, except for one fact—she was Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age—brightest witch of any age. She was bound to find out exactly who Mary Margaret McSweeney was before too long. What was Dumbledore thinking? He had to know that the girl would figure it out, was that his hope? That perhaps through Miss. Granger she could have a friend and confidante during this difficult time?

Whatever the reason, Minerva would have to be careful. It wouldn't do to have her students finding out exactly who their new dorm-mate was. Heaving one last sigh, Minerva began to unpack her belongings.

It was several hours later before Mary came down from their room, and Hermione watched closely as she peaked around the corner into the common room. The poor woman looked like the zebra in the lion's den. Hermione chuckled lightly; poor woman.

"Mary," she called, "You should come sit with us, if you'd like."

Mary smiled thankfully and made her way over to the group near the fire, waving awkwardly before sitting in one of the chair. "This is Harry and Ron," Hermione introduced, "And that's Ginny, and Neville."

"Pleasure," Minerva said quietly. She had brought a book with her, and quickly lost herself in it. Hermione gave a small smile, that's exactly what she would have done.

"Oh No," Ron joked, "It looks like we've found another Mione."

Hermione laughed quietly, "Oh shut up, Ron. Just because you can't read…"

"I can read!" he argued, causing her to roll her eyes.

"I suppose choosing not to read when you are entirely capable of reading, is actually worse than not being able to at all," Minerva said quietly, a small smile playing around her lips.

Hermione and Ginny laughed out loud, and Harry just exclaimed, "Oh Merlin, you are like Mione. We're going to have to watch out for her."

"Good, maybe she can convince you to do your own damned homework," Ginny laughed.

Minerva snorted quietly, "I wouldn't say that doing your homework is overly important," she smirked as she read, "There are so many options in wizarding society today, that homework is almost entirely unnecessary. For example, I believe that a Mr. Filch I met earlier is looking for apprentices, perhaps he can hire you when you fail to graduate."

Hermione stared at the girl in shock for a moment, then upon looking at Harry and Ron's faces she started giggling madly, "Oh that sounds like a lovely idea, Mary."

Mary smiled to herself, but continued to read.

"So why did you decide to start at Hogwarts now, Mary?" Neville asked politely, and Hermione smiled. Neville could always be counted on to make someone feel welcome.

Mary paled slightly, "I had been home schooled, but my parents, well they were attacked some time ago, and so I've come here to finish my education. Homeschooling is not recognized by the ministry unless there is a NEWT certified witch or wizard available to supervise."

Hermione frowned deeply, and the rest of their group grew silent. They had all been affected by the war, and they felt for the witch. Hermione's parents had both been murdered while she was on the run, so she could certainly sympathise, "You know, Mary, if there's anything we can do to help, don't hesitate to ask," she offered, her friends all nodding their support.

Mary smiled lightly, "Thank you, Hermione. But I think the best help anyone can do for me, is to not treat me like I'm some breakable doll. We've all lost people in the war, and we all must move on with our lives. Are we Gryffindors, or aren't we?" she laughed.

Her friends agreed whole heartedly, and Hermione smiled as she studied the younger witch. Something about her seemed familiar, but she couldn't place her finger on it. Shaking her head slightly, she decided it was none of her business. "Should we make our way to dinner then?" she asked her friends, and Ron was the first to jump up, Harry, Ginny, and Neville following closely behind them.

Hermione smiled, they were a predictable bunch, if nothing else. Hermione walked slightly behind the rest of the group, wanting to talk with Mary, "So what courses will you be in?"

"Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic, Herbology, Defense, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes, I believe."

"Oh wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, "You're in my classes—I'm also taking Muggle Studies, Astronomy, and Care of Magical Creatures, but I tend to overdo things a bit."

Mary smiled warmly at Hermione, "I think it makes sense to get as much out of your education as possible—once you graduate it's so much more complicated. I would have taken on more, but I didn't want to overwhelm myself—entering the semester late and all."

"Thank you, Mary! I keep trying to explain it to my friends, and they think I'm simply barmy, it's wonderful to know someone else who values a proper education!" she exclaimed, "And I wouldn't worry too much about catching up, we're only two weeks into the semester, so you should be alright. You seem clever, so I don't think the material will be overwhelming for you."

"I certainly hope so," she said quietly, she seemed to ponder something for a moment before asking, "I heard you have recently acquired a new Transfiguration professor—how are they? Transfiguration is one of my favorite subjects."

Hermione frowned, "It's one of mine as well," she answered, "The professor is alright, I suppose. She bores me, but then again, she isn't Professor McGonagall—oh, Professor McGonagall was the previous professor, she's taken a brief sabbatical, I do hope she returns soon. Anyways, I wouldn't worry about doing well, it isn't nearly as challenging of a course now."

Mary frowned, "That's disappointing, you would have thought they would find a better replacement. Transfiguration is such a fascinating subject, but it can be made boring so quickly by the wrong teacher."

"I'm sure that Professor McGonagall will be back before too long, and you'll absolutely adore her. She is one of the most passionate professors I've ever seen," Hermione gushed. "She's been giving me extra assignments since I was in second year—don't mention that to Harry and Ron, they would torment me mercilessly. I guess I just got bored with the work we were being assigned, so I've been doing separate assignments. I love it; I've been working on things in the last few years, that most students don't work on until they are pursuing a Mastery."

"That sounds wonderful," Mary grinned.

"It really is, and it's all because of Professor McGonagall. I do hope she'll be alright, I'm rather worried. I had hoped that before I leave, I could convince her to stay in touch—perhaps be my friend in the future, but that seems unlikely if she's gone now."

Mary glanced towards her feet again, "Things like that have a way of working themselves out, if it's meant to be."

Hermione nodded, "I'm sorry if I'm talking to much, you just—well you seem interested in a lot of the things I am, and I guess I got excited. Please feel free to tell me to stop, everyone else does," she said with a blush.

"Trust me, Hermione, I understand what you mean entirely. I used to be quite a bit like that, my friends would pick on me for being such a swot. "

Hermione was just about to ask her about her friends, when they entered the Great Hall, and she thought better of it. As Hermione guided Mary towards the Gryffindor table she heard a whistle from the Hufflepuff table and grimaced, she had wondered if this would be a problem. Hermione wasn't afraid to admit that Mary was an exceptionally attractive witch.

She was tall, taller than average but not unattractively so, and most of the length came from her legs. She had the build of an athlete, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Mary had ever played Quidditch. Yet despite the slim and muscular build, she also had very clearly defined curves, which Hermione herself was trying not to focus on. Her face held all the elegance and intelligence of a much older witch, and her green eyes sparkled with mischief and knowledge.

Hermione shook herself from her thoughts, 'highly inappropriate thoughts,' she scolded herself.

The point was, Mary was far more than attractive, she was stunning—add that to the fact that she was brand new, not one of the girls which the boys had known since they were eleven and awkward, and she was undeniably desirable.

So far, Hermione had been able to steer her away from the worst of the Gryffindor staring, but now it was dinner time, and that meant open season on attractive women.

When the first whistle was let out, Hermione had sent a glare towards the Hufflepuffs, quickly quieting them. The Hufflepuffs were easily intimidated by the Head Girl, but the other houses wouldn't be so easy and the first whistle had already grabbed their attention.

Hermione cringed for the woman next to her, and selfishly thanked Merlin that she had never garnered much attention from the boys of her school—she didn't think she would be able to handle it all that well. Glancing at Mary, Hermione noticed she was blushing darkly, but also muttering curses under her breath. Chuckling to herself, Hermione leaned over and whispered, "If you point them out to me, I'll take away points later on. I know the handbook backwards and forwards and can promise you that they will slip up soon enough."

Mary laughed, and Hermione couldn't help the warmth which filled her chest at that moment. As another whistle permeated the air, she called behind her, "Robert Finchley—10 points from Ravenclaw for being a Chauvinistic pig—also because your tie is not tied to regulation dress-code standards. Appearance matters, Mister Finchley."

The groan which arose from Ravenclaw was enough to make her dinner wonderful, but the laughter which erupted from Mary made it all the better.

"You don't have to do that, you know. I'm sure you're breaking Head Girl rules by taking points in such a manner," she explained. "I would be fine."

Hermione just shrugged, "Most of the professors would agree with me—technicality or not. And they were being rude; you deserve more respect, Mary."

Mary blushed deeply, "Thank you, Hermione."

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!