A/N: Hey guys! I dedicate this to my wonderful teacher, Dr. G. I wrote this while listening to Bernini's Angels, which is perhaps responsible for the combination of breezy and subdued voice in this piece. I enjoyed writing it... so I hope you all enjoy reading!

Minerva McGonagall was not accustomed to failing in areas where she exerted her best efforts. There was a reason she excelled in transfiguration to the point that Professor Dumbledore had offered her an internship immediately after her graduation later that year. There was a reason she had been named Quidditch captain at the start of her sixth year at Hogwarts. There was a reason that she was the most effective Head Girl that Hogwarts had seen in quite some time. Once she committed to something, she saw it through to the end, and she watched in satisfaction with a stern set of her jaw as the end unfolded precisely as she wanted it to.

But now here she sat, alone in the prefect meeting room, the others long gone, a sense of unfamiliar disappointment and petty indignation stealing over her. Above all that though, she felt surprise. For the first time, she felt that she would not get the outcome she expected and wanted.

Minerva was not wont to trouble herself with the fragments of gossip that made their way to even the most incurious of social circles. She was still less likely to waste precious mental capacity on the gossip specifically pertaining to who was seeing who, and even less likely to concern herself with whichever poor boy on occasion happened to take an interest in her. Her affection was hard won, and was bestowed with even more difficulty. The first time Tom Riddle crossed paths with her, attraction was the last thing on her mind, and functionality was the first. She knew enough about him from his celebrity status in the school that he might prove difficult to command, which pushed her a bit closer to bias against him before prefect duties even began. He was almost inconsequential during that first meeting, remaining silent for most of it and offering a viewpoint contradictory to her own as the meeting was winding down. She pushed his suggestion aside with no equivocation in her voice, a polite and stern authority palpable to all assembled. And she suspected dislike was newly lodged in his gaze towards her; a mild buzzing of disapproval and disinclination was directed at her. At first, it was exiguous in importance, but somewhere between his transfer to NEWT level transfiguration with her and the autumn break, she found herself drawn to his surprising level of magical maturity and his remarkable aptitude in the dueling club. And after a conversation with him when they were the first two students to arrive at Dumbledore's classroom, she found the oddest flutterings rising up in her typically clear mind. Suddenly she laughed a bit too much, smiled a bit more than usual, and left her usual seat to take the vacant one by him.

Over the weekend back in Caithness she meandered through the fields, sometimes with her brothers and sometimes with Dougal, where little talk of magic fell from her lips, but Tom's name slipped out a number of times. Her brothers didn't seem to notice the frequent mention of her newest acquaintance, she was relieved to observe, but Dougal seemed a bit put off by the topic. It didn't trouble her at the time. She was in a giddy state completely unfamiliar to her, and she intended to either ride the feelings out or see which direction they would take her. With all this at the back of her mind, she was more eager than she had reason to be to return to Hogwarts at the conclusion of the break, and looked forward to transfiguration and prefect meetings more than ever. From mild dislike she was now at an almost childlike fondness, and she made her sentiments so obvious that twice she noticed Dumbledore regard them with an odd expression when they paired up for two-person practices. Their conversations increased in number, even if they remained strictly academia related, and her liking increased in intensity. Minerva conclusively found herself the victim of a schoolgirl crush.

"Why do you suppose a Patronus is the same animal as your Animagus form?" she said, homework completed, prefect duties attended to, and absolutely no reasons remaining to detain him any longer.

"How do you mean, 'why do you suppose'?" Tom said, one eyebrow cocked. "It's part of the fifth law of human transfiguration. Do I have to quote it to you?"

"Oh, of course," Minerva said, biting her lip. "How embarrassing for me to forget that." She waited for a reply, perplexed when he was silent. "So... how have things been going with those advanced DADA classes for next year? Any progress?"

"Not particularly," he said with an edge to his voice. "Dumbledore advises Dippet a bit too much for something like that to go over with little difficulty, I'm afraid."

She was beginning to feel as though he expected only her to maintain the conversation, but she pushed the thought aside and asked another question, wondering if she appeared aggravating as she did so. "Why not just get an internship over the summer? Go straight to Professor Merrythought and see if she can set you up."

"I've considered that," he said slowly, "but I'm not entirely sure yet. I don't want to appear as though I have an unhealthy fixation with the subject. It's better that I appear more... well-rounded."

"I should say you are well rounded," Minerva said brightly, earning a smile from him that disarmed her more effectively than any of his jinxes could. "But," she added, frowning, "I do get a bit of an impression that you have a penchant for the subject, Tom. Any particular reason? Or am I not allowed to ask?"

She was all too aware of his carelessly brushing against her as he packed his bag and stood, looking down at her in the dimly lit library with torches casting their hazy glow upon his sharp-featured face. "Not allowed?" he said, corners of his lips quirking upward as he smiled again. The shadows danced across his face, a thousand expressions framed in those flickered shades of light and dark, and she felt a bit displeased, as though he were laughing at her. "I suppose it's a bit of a dark necessity," he said,

"Bit dramatic, don't you think?" He didn't answer, and the contact between them was broken as he made to leave. Without returning her call of goodbye he had disappeared down the black hallway to the stairway that led to his common room, and Minerva leaned back in her chair, simultaneously pleased and disappointed.

Her invitation to prepare for the impending exams in their shared class went unacknowledged, to her consternation. The second time, he slyly told her of his confidence in the area and inquired as to whether or not she needed assistance with the more complicated magical theory. In a moment her old authority was back as she reprimanded him for hinting of any incompetence on her part, but it was not received as it used to be. His smile said more than his gilded tongue ever would, and it vexed her even as it sparked those damned feelings of attraction and admiration. The third time, he flatly turned her down, saying that he'd "rather not, if it's not of tremendous importance to you."

"Not at all," she said coolly. "I just get a bit more out of it if I study with someone."

"I wasn't aware of that before now."

"I would hope you weren't," she said, a treacherous blush tinting her cheeks. "Well..."

"Yes?"

"If you have such an aversion to reviewing with me... perhaps you'd be more suited to an afternoon of scintillating conversation?" She couldn't keep the smile off her face, and was conscious of what an atypical proposition she had just given. He began to return her smile even as he turned to go, and heartened, she took his wrist in her hand to impede his departure.

"High opinion you have of yourself."

"Surely all your necessities can't be dark," she wheedled, ignoring him. "Everyone needs a few moments of prattle now and again."

"Perhaps," he relented, "but I can't say that I'm in the category of everyone, Minerva."

It was the first time he had spoken her name, she realized, and she grew annoyed with herself for enjoying the way it sounded formed by his lips. It seemed to hover in the air between them in the empty meeting room, darkening to pitch black as Tom systematically extinguished the torches. "You didn't give me a yes or a no," she pointed out as he gently extricated his wrist from her grip.

"That was intentional."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," she said carefully. "You're being awfully cryptic, you know."

"Am I?" he asked, and she could swear she saw him smile, even though the sliver of moonlight the thin windows allowed was insufficient to make out his eyes, irises dark as the night sky they both turned to gaze at for a moment.

"You are."

"You're a smart witch," he said, his voice low and mocking as he patted her shoulder. "You'll figure it out." He seemed to melt into the darkness in the room, the starched white collar of his uniform and the shiny prefect badge the only distinct parts of his person in the night.

"Maybe I'm not," she snapped.

"Well then-" He took her hand in his briefly, elongating her arm as he backed away, grip loosening as he did so, "maybe you're not." She didn't realize it until he dropped her hand and disappeared through the dimly lit corridor. Frowning, she sat in the nearest chair, alone in the darkness.

"Overtly dramatic prat," she said aloud, and a pout upon her lips, she sat for some moments longer in the room, ignoring the fact that she was out far past curfew and wondering instead if perhaps she was the one with a dark necessity.

FINIS

A/N: So... what did you guys think? :D Go listen to Bernini's Angels right now. DO IT. And while you're at it, drop me a review. :)