Just a fluffy oneshot, per a request from two of my favorite ladies. Paige, Holli, here you go!

Hermione Granger didn't know when things had changed between she and Minerva McGonagall, but they had. For eight years, Hermione had looked at Minerva has nothing more than a teacher – a mentor. After that had come the years of friendship, coming to a pinnacle when Ron had died in the line of duty, leaving her alone to raise Rose and Hugo, now nine and ten respectively. That had been three years ago, now.

After Ron's death, Minerva had become an even more active part of Hermione's life than she'd ever been before. Last year, she'd retired from her post at Hogwarts, handing the position off to Severus Snape, insisting that the only reason he'd not had the position directly after the war was because the public had not been ready to accept that the man who their children had lived in terror of that last year of the war was worthy of the post. Time healed many wounds, so Minerva had opted to leave the school that had been her home for decades.

Since then, she'd been at Hermione's flat more often than she was at her own small cottage, to such a point that Rose and Hugo had opted to combine their rooms about six months ago, assuring their mum that they didn't mind in the slightest, especially if it meant that Aunt Minerva would be spending more nights there, rather than leaving late each evening to return to her place, only to return first thing in the morning. Actually, Hermione didn't think Minerva had been back to her cottage for more than some clean laundry in over two weeks. She'd all but moved in.

Mind, this didn't bother Hermione at all, and the more she thought about it, the more she felt like it would be a profound loss if Minerva ever began to spend less time with she and the children. For her, Minerva was a treasured friend and confidant, and one of the few people in her life that wasn't urging her to start dating again. For the children, she was apparently a surrogate parent, despite the aunt title. That, right there, was the issue at hand.

This morning when she'd dropped the kids off at school, the teacher had pulled her aside to ask her the strangest question. Mrs. Weasley, she'd said. I was looking over your childrens' records last week and noticed that we don't have a contact number for your wife. Is there a reason she's not listed?

Hermione had dropped her coffee in surprise. "My what? I was widowed a few years ago, I haven't even started dating again, much less gotten remarried!"

The Teacher had looked at her, perplexed, and then expressed that they'd been talking about geography in class a few months prior, and Hugo commented on how while his mum was from London, his mother was from Scotland. She also related that weeks after the fact, Rose had be overheard bragging about how her mum worked for the Ministry, and her mother was a teacher.

Hermione had instantly realized that the children regarded Minerva as far more than a friend of their mum's. Of course, by implication of the title they seemed to have chosen for the woman who was so often at their house, the teacher had assumed that Minerva was Hermione's partner. Her lover. The younger woman in question had been a bit surprised to find that she welcomed the idea of the elder in that context. A few hours later, as she sat at the kitchen table with some tea, having fire-called off today, Hermione realized that she had unwittingly fallen in love with her former professor.

How had she not realized before now? How were the children accepting of Minerva in that sort of role without either of them knowing? Hermione knew without a doubt that had Minerva been aware the children referred to her as such, she would have brought it to the younger woman's attention. Minerva was just… honorable like that.

The bigger question here begged to be asked. Hermione's own feelings on the proverbial table, what did Minerva feel? Hermione already knew Minerva was attracted witches. As Hermione had been widowed by Ron's death, Minerva had been widowed by the loss of Amelia Bones during the war. So, was Minerva in love with her?

As if on cue, the Scottish woman entered the flat via her key, laden with a few sacks from the grocery. "Hermione," she said. "Are you well? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Called off," she said. "Had a conversation with the kids' teacher that sort of changed my day a bit."

Minerva instantly looked concerned. "Rose and Hugo aren't causing trouble, are they?"

"Of course not, at least…" she paused, knowing she and Minerva needed to talk about this before the kids came home this afternoon, but was unsure of how to broach the subject. "…at least I hope not," she muttered, hoping that this conversation didn't scare Minerva off. That would be trouble.

Minerva finished putting the perishables away in the icebox, and set the other items to the side, joining Hermione at the table. "What did the teacher say?" she asked quietly, pouring her own cup of tea and raising it to her lips, taking a sip.

Well, there's an opening. Hermione thought. "It seems that Rose and Hugo have been referring to you at school as their mother."

Minerva spit the tea back into the cup, a bit dribbling on her chin, which in her shock she did not seem to be noticing. Hermione leaned forward and handed her a napkin. "But you're their mother!" Minerva exclaimed after wiping her mouth. "You're a wonderful mum and I'm astounded that they'd try to…"

Hermione quickly realized what Minerva was assuming. "No, Min," she corrected. "They refer to you as their mother, and refer to me as their mum. It's not a replacement, it's an addition. Further, the teacher concluded that in a household where the children refer to two women as parental figures, that said two women are… er… married."

"Oh my," Minerva whispered. "I…I don't quite know what to say."

Hermione laughed a little. "Nor did I."

"Of course, we'll need to correct the children…" the older woman stated softly.

"Do we?" Hermione asked, trepidation in her voice, and the air of a lingering question hanging between them.

Rose Weasley waited for her brother outside of his classroom, expecting him to file out any moment, which of course, right on schedule, he did. "Hugo," she greeted.

"Rose," he said with a small grin. "Teacher talked to mum today. Pretty sure she finally brought up what we've been calling Minerva."

The elder sibling nodded. "Finally," she said. "I was beginning to think our plan might not work at all."

Hugo huffed. "We're Weasley's. O'course our plan was going to work. Mum will have gone home, called in to the Ministry, and spent the day talking to Minerva about the problem, and if we're really lucky, at least one of them will get it through their thick heads."

"It is obvious, isn't it?" Rose replied. "That they're in love."

"I think Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry suspect too, but Aunt Ginny won't say anything, because dad was her brother, and if she was helping mum to see Minerva like that, it would be like betraying his memory to her, I bet," Hugo reasoned. "And Uncle Harry, of course, would be too scared mum would flay him for suggesting anything improper."

"Which is why we've got to make this work," Rose agreed. "It really is rather lucky that mum is so predictable. Never fails, does it? We get in some sort of trouble, she takes the day to sort it out with mother."

"You're really starting to see her like that, aren't you?" Hugo asked. "I mean, I know we only started calling her that around the teachers to get them to bring it up to mum…"

Rose sighed. "Yeah I guess so. Though it really wasn't still after we decided how great her and mum would be together that I started to see what she could be to us, as well. I mean, I loved dad, but…"

"But what?" Hugo asked skeptically.

"Well mum's always been in charge, even when he was alive, hasn't she?" Rose tried to explain. "My friends, they have a mum and a dad who actually talk to each other about things like where to go on holiday, or what sort of punishment is called for when they misbehave, you know? Mum never talked to dad about those things, but she doesn't so much as move the sofa without talking to Minerva!"

"Suppose that's true," Hugo replied, as the pair began walking to bus that would be taking them home.

Back at the flat, Minerva was shifting uncomfortably under Hermione's stare. The two had been discussing what the children were apparently now seeing her as a second mother, and between Hermione's question of if they should correct the children or not, and the fact that Rose and Hugo were Weasleys – and Minerva knew Weasleys – she did not doubt for a second that the two children had it in their minds to hook them up. Hermione, it seemed, was not entirely objecting of the idea.

"Hermione, what are you suggesting?" she asked carefully.

As for herself, her own feelings had been acknowledged, denied, accepted, and dwelled on for quite some time. When she'd retired, she'd started coming out to see Hermione and the children more often, hoping to be a friend to Hermione in her grief over the loss of her husband – a sort of grief Minerva was well acquainted with. She's also hoped to be a support to Rose and Hugo, though at the time she'd hardly known them.

Since then, she'd fallen utterly in love with not only Hermione, but with the two children as well. More than that, she'd been welcomed into their family. For Merlin's sake, Minerva practically lived with them, and it had been an unasked for privilege. The children had instigated the addition of what had become 'her room', though Minerva knew that Hermione would have vetoed the idea had she not been keen on it as well.

"I'm suggesting that perhaps we've been blind idiots," Hermione replied. "Or at least one of has, and the other has not spoken up."

"Well neither of us are particularly shy," Minerva replied carefully. "What reason could we have to not express how we truly felt on a matter?"

"Fear," the younger witch replied. "Which for the record, I believe is unwarranted."

"Really?" the elder asked, looking hopeful as she reached out and touched Hermione's hand. "Truly, Hermione – are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"If you think I'm saying that I've somehow fallen in love with you, then yes," the other said, gripping Minerva's hand tightly. "What about you?"

Minerva nodded. "Likewise, and you are right – I've not said anything before now because I feared that should you not feel the same, that you'd push me away. Not only does it terrify me to think of losing you, but Rose and Hugo as well. I love all of you."

"WELL, KISS ALREADY!" Hugo and Rose's voices shouted in union.

Minerva and Hermione both turned toward the front door, where both kids were standing looking all manner of pleased with themselves. Minerva chuckled at the confirmation of her theory. "We've been set up, my dear," she said to Hermione.

The other woman looked stunned. "You PLANNED this?"

The children smiled sheepishly. "Maybe," Hugo replied sheepishly.

"And you're both really okay with Minerva and I being… together?" Hermione asked.

"One condition," Rose said suddenly, hands on her hips.

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "That would be?"

"We move to a bigger flat," Rose said promptly. "Hugo and I don't mind sharing a room in the short term, but if… mother moves in officially then that means all her stuff comes, which means you guys will need to use one room for a small library, and that still leaves us one room short, assuming, you know…"

Rose started blushing and Hugo just looked at the floor trying to hide his laughter. Hermione was rubbing her temples and Minerva was sure she appeared as mortified at Rose's comment as she was feeling.

"Yes," Minerva mumbled. "I think a bigger place would be ideal. Hermione?"

"Most definitely," the younger woman agreed readily.

"So did our plan work?" Hugo asked. "You gunna be together now? Kiss and stuff? Now? Please?"

Minerva offered the boy a stern look. "Hugo Weasley, it takes two people to kiss, not four. If you and your sister would be so kind as to go to your room and start on your homework, I'll see what I can do about convincing your mum to keep me around."

The children grinned, and without another word slung their bags over their shoulders and made quickly toward their bedroom. As soon as the door closed behind them, Minerva turned back to Hermione, who was shaking her head incredulously. "I cannot believe they did this," she whispered, blushing lightly.

Minerva laughed. "Hermione, my love, they are your children. I'm not surprised in the slightest."

"They're our children," the younger woman correctly softly, leaning toward her companion.

"Our two rugrats," Minerva agreed, closing the gap and sealing her lips against Hermione's at long last. She sighed contentedly at the taste of her future finally arriving.

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