A/N: Hey y'all! This was requested by lucky1961. Per the request, Minerva returns home unannounced around Christmas and they talk about Tom. I made it in second person. Enjoy!
1951
You are happy to be home, you decide, even though you're still at the apparition port in Scotland and home is a fair ways away. It's crowded at the stop, and since your final destination is in a Muggle neighborhood in Caithness, you still have a cab ride ahead. If you could have your way, you'd apparate straight into your house, and give them all a pleasant surprise, but you know your mother would have spells in place to prevent intrusions like that. You miss Tom already, you discover. You're unsure how they'll take the news that's almost sure to come up.
The cab ride is long enough for you to collect your thoughts and you clasp and unclasp your purse idly as you think about home. You find it odd, calling the house in Caithness "home." London is your home now, with its smoggy streets and bustling nightlife, and the two bedroom apartment on the corner just past Diagon Alley. You feel a bit disloyal thinking of calm, quiet Caithness in that light.
"We're here, Miss," you hear the driver say, and you can't get out of the car fast enough, forgetting about the snow. You nearly forget your trunk and in your hurry you levitate it behind you, forgetting all discretion in your eagerness. You remember and turn back after taking a few steps, but the cab is gone. You push the worry from your mind and press on. The snow is deep, and even though it's only a few more yards to the front door your wool skirt is soaked through by the time you reach it, your legs red beneath it from the cold. You don't want to use magic to melt a path... not after the near miss with the driver. Snowflakes catch in your hair, lingering ice crystals forming a hairnet on the black. You flounder to the door, throwing your weight against it and dropping your trunk on the porch with a resounding thud.
"I'm home," you cry, your voice half-swallowed by the howling wind as you let the knocker fall three times. You glance around hurriedly when there is no reply at the door, and let the knocker fall again, while casting a protective bubble around yourself. The door opens at last, and after you tumble inside your spell ends, and the wind's howling fills your ears for a moment before the door thuds shut behind you.
"Minerva!" Malcolm exclaims, and in half a moment you're in a warm embrace from your little brother, now in his sixth year of Hogwarts. When did he get so much taller than you? you wonder.
"Hi, everyone," you say, and in the clamoring Scottish voices that fill the house you notice that the sound of London has stayed in your voice.
"Minerva!" your mother bursts out, embracing you. "I thought you were staying in London for your Christmas holidays-"
"I thought so too," you say, grinnign as your mother casts a warming charm on you and points her wand at the fire, and she instantly feels the room heat. "But here I am. Don't tell me you aren't thrilled to see me," you add, letting your frozen cloak fall away from your body.
"We are thrilled, of course," she says, beaming, and you feel more warmed by her smile than the fire. "Your father will be overjoyed, I'm sure, he was just saying how different Christmas will be without you this year."
"Yes, where is he?" you ask, looking around and noticing his absence for the first time.
"He's out paying the McGregors a visit," she says. "Maybe you should too... Dougal has missed seeing you, you know, you haven't visited him in nearly four years now-"
You wrinkle your nose. "I think I'd better not, it'd be awkward all around. Besides, I don't think Tom would like that."
That naturally piqued the interest of everyone in the room. Typical. "Who's Tom?" Malcolm and Robert asked in unison, slow smiles spreading over their faces.
"Didn't I mention him at all, in my letters?" you ask feebly.
"Are you kidding, Min? You've been really distant ever since February," Malcolm said.
"Not even in my last one?" you say, feeling silly. "Surely I mentioned something in my last one."
"Minerva darling, why don't you tell us about him," your mother says, patting the seat next to her on the hearth.
"All right," you say, not knowing quite where to begin. "Um, you know about Tom Riddle. Remember, he was a year below me, and he got that award for clearing up that Chamber of Secrets fiasco..."
She frowned. "Tom Riddle? Surely not the same Tom Riddle you called the... what was it... the 'self-important twat'?"
You blush. "That was during school, Mum."
"So what's changed all of a sudden?" Malcolm said, still smirking.
"Oh, he's actually really nice," you say, wondering if now is a bad time to mention that you've practically moved into his flat. "Much more mature."
"Uh huh," Malcolm says, unconvinced. "How long have you two been shagging?"
"Malcolm!" your mother says, and this time you know you're blushing furiously.
"A lady doesn't kiss and tell," you say at last as Malcolm and Robert roar with laughter. "And you wish you could have someone half as often."
"She didn't deny it, mate," you hear Robert whisper, and you resist the urge to hex them both. To think, you missed that while you were away.
"All right, boys," your mother says sternly, "that's enough. Minerva," she adds, turning back to you, "how did you meet?"
"Oh, it's not like we didn't already know one another," you say. "We were set up by a mutual friend. You remember Lizzie? You know, I attended her wedding to that Greengrass fellow, and it turned out he knew Tom?"
"Oh yeah, the one boy you said wasn't a sexist bastard," Malcolm observed.
"Must you remember everything bad that I say?" you demand, rolling your eyes. "Sure, that's the one. Anyway, she set us up and things sort of progressed from there."
Your mother nods. "And you've been together for how long, then? When did Lizzie introduce you?"
"Oh, around a year ago," you say. "Maybe a bit over a year." You aren't too keen on celebrating the anniversary of first dates and things like that.
"Ah." You wait, feeling anxious when silence fills the room, only broken by the crackling fire.
"Shall I invited him over?" you supply tentatively to fill the silence. "If you want to meet him...?"
"I'd love to," she replies, "but it's rather short notice, don't you think?"
You don't feel like telling her that it really wouldn't be an issue for him to get there, but instead he'd be reluctant to come. "I suppose so," you say.
"Visit us any old weekend, or bring him for New Years if he can make it," she continues. "I'd like to meet him."
Your father returns shortly afterwards, and the premise of the conversation is repeated for his benefit. Once you close your lips, you feel uncomfortable by how he stares at you.
"A year?"
"A year... maybe more."
"And are you living with him?"
"Certainly not," you say. Surely a change of clothes in his closet and your most basic toilettries for those increasingly frequent stays over didn't count as that.
"I want to meet him."
"Why are you so sharp, all of a sudden?" you ask, feeling indignant. "You weren't like this when it was Dougal."
"Uh, we're going to go..." Robert says awkwardly, and slips out of the room.
"Minerva, you still don't understand that that whole business with Dougal could have been avoided if you didn't just rush into an engagement like that!" He shook his head. "I want to meet this Tom before you pull a stunt like that again. I know you all can travel instantaneously, I want to see him. Now."
You flush. "Well, I'll... I'll floo. Excuse me," you say, and sidle off to your old room. It looks completely unchanged; even the jar of floo powder looks as though it hasn't been touched since your departure. The fireplace crackles to life, and you're on your knees, face in the green sulfurous flames, suuppressing the urge to cough. "Tom?"
His back is to you, and he starts suddenly at your voice. "Evening, darling. Couldn't stand to be away from me for even twenty-four hours, I see."
You start to smile. "Hey, I know this is last minute, but Dad wants to meet you."
Tom groaned. "Good God, Minerva, what did you tell them about me?"
"Nothing!" you say, petulant. "After Dougal I just have a bad track record with the parents regarding men."
"You were eighteen," he says dismissively. "You didn't know how bad your taste was."
Now you're openly grinning. "How do you know I still don't have crappy taste? And just visit, okay? Get them off my case, you know how to be... you know.."
"Suave? Charming?" he supplies, dropping to his knees in front of his fireplace. "And anyway, I'll pass. I'm not fond of meeting parents. What's in it for me?" He turns back to whatever he was doing.
"Me, for starters," you wheedle.
"No, I already have that," he says, turning back to you and smirking, "and I daresay I'll have that even if I don't bail you out. How important is this to you?"
"Very. Dad asked if we were living together."
He arched a brow. "Well..." He disappears from your line of sight and returns with a nightgown and one of your brassieres. "This isn't mine, of that much I'm certain."
"I don't live here so that's irrelevent," you say. "Get your sorry ass in here right now, Tom Riddle."
"Where are you now, exactly?"
"My bedroom... why?"
"Happy to oblige." Within five minutes he's dusting himself off in your room. "Evening again, Minerva. You look bloody awful."
"Asshole," you reply, crossing your arms.
"Now, now, don't deny it," he says, gathering you up to his chest and pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Pity I'm in your parent's house, or I'd definitely take advantage of the location." He looks at you carefully. "You're soaked. Change before you catch pneumonia."
You raise a brow and smile flirtatiously. "I can't change, Mr. Riddle, there's a man in my room."
"As if that bothered you before."
You stick your tongue out at him, and after laying out a fresh tartan gown you turn your back to him and undress, the cold air on your wet skin electrifying. You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you glance back quickly. Naturally Tom's leaning against dresser, hands in his pockets, eyes unabashedly fixed on you. Even when he realizes he's been caught staring, he just smirks and says nothing. The cold is a good motivator, though, and you're dressed again in seconds. "Now behave yourself," you say in a warning voice as you take his arm.
"When do I not?" he says as you open the door.
"Mum, Dad," you call, "there's someone I want you to meet."
A/N: Hope y'all liked it! I always thought after the whole Dougal fiasco her parents would be on their guard whenever Minerva gets serious with a man again. I guess I've made this a two-parter... and I'm not sure if I took the sort of approach you wanted, lucky1961. I'm feeling like the next chapter should be humor. Stay tuned! And leave me a review, everyone! :D
