Clever Girls

Minerva McGonagall

It started with one mistake. It always does. Love. The ultimate weakness. And she fell in love with the one man who had the power to destroy her. Perhaps she was not such a clever girl, after all.

And her choice led to a life of loneliness, fear and heartache...

O O O

I grabbed his arm.

"Let go, Min," he snarled viciously at me, his dark eyes flashing dangerously. I saw his other hand flick to his robes, no doubt to draw his wand. He did not care for duelling a girl; he knew we were even on such a battlefield.

"Tom," I whispered brokenly. "I don't understand..."

His handsome face scrunched up in hatred and he seemed to forget that we were standing in the Transfigurations corridor at Hogwarts in the middle of the night. He would never let his carefully controlled features get the better of him with anyone but me. I had always thought that his guard lowered around me. I was wrong. It was higher; not merely a defence, but a diversion.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Min, I just don't love you. I don't love anyone and I don't plan on changing that any time soon. Get off me!"

I could feel tears beginning to roll from my dark navy eyes. Seeing this, Tom sneered. "Stop crying, Minerva. You're better than that. Don't lower yourself."

I sniffed and wiped at my eyes, hating the feeling of being inferior to him. We had been equals... once.

"I don't see how it lessens me, Tom. Emotion is not a weakness..."

At this, he threw his dark head back and laughed, the pale skin of his firmly chiselled jaw glinting in the torchlight. "Ahh, very wise, Minerva. Must be derived from your name, I suppose? The Roman Goddess of Wisdom. How... interesting. Unfortunately, I do not give a damn. So, if you will please leave me alone now, consider it much appreciated."

My brows furrowed and I reached to tuck a lock of stray raven hair behind my ear. I had not followed him down here to be rejected. It was the last night of our Seventh Year; I had not intended to spend it crying.

Tom raised a delicate eyebrow at me, obviously expecting me to argue with him. Disappointed (he could always count on me for a good heated discussion), he turned and walked off.

I stayed. I shouldn't have. I should have followed after him. But I stayed.

I stayed for so long; minutes grew into hours and eventually I sat down, settling myself in the middle of the Transfiguration corridor, holding my knees to my chest and sobbing.

I was a seventeen year old girl who had fallen in love.

And Tom Riddle was a difficult man to love.

I didn't care that my feelings were not reciprocated; I did not care that he could not find it within himself to love me. I only cared that he was about to leave the school and go down a destructive path that I didn't want him to.

Evil...

I had always seen his dark streak, I had respected it. From darkness comes power, for those strong enough to wield it. But I was not sure that Tom had that inner strength. I knew his weaknesses and he had told me his faults. I knew that he would be consumed by lust for power. I knew, but let him aim for it anyway.

I could not stop him. I did not think anyone could.

"Minerva?" I heard a voice from just behind me. I didn't look around, thinking that if it was that little (or rather, particularly large) Hufflepuff boy I helped earlier, Rebeus Hamrid, or whatever his name was, that I had best ignore him. "Miss McGonagall?"

Now it sounded more like a teacher. Where was I? I pondered, sitting up. Transfigurations corridor. Ohh...

"Professor Dumbledore?" I responded, turning around and standing up.

My favourite teacher (Transfigurations) was standing at the doorway to the classroom, a pensive frown on his face. His long, ashy-grey beard was tucked into an indigo belt that was clasped around offensively bright magenta robes. "Are you alright, Minerva?" he enquired politely, stepping forward.

I nodded, hoping to Merlin that my eyes were not red and puffy. "Yes, sir. I was just... having a think."

Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Invasive thought comes in the strangest of places, doesn't it? Just the other day, I was meandering down near the Quidditch changing rooms and felt that I just needed a little ponder in the empty locker room... Quite delightful when things come to you like that."

I blinked, processing my kooky teacher's words. Dumbledore was brilliant, but strangely mental at the same time. Still brilliant though. "Yes, it is."

"Is there anything you would like to talk about, Minerva? The Head Girl should not be thinking alone after curfew on the last night of the year. Is something wrong?"

I swallowed. No, I just confessed my love to a boy who is apparently incapable of emotions other than hatred and aggression and watched him walk away from me forever... Nothing wrong at all. "No, sir. I just had a conversation with someone that really should never have occurred in the first place."

Dumbledore nodded. "I see," he replied softly.

"Well, good night, sir. Thank you for... everything, I suppose," I smiled brightly at him, my favourite teacher, thinking to myself that Albus Dumbledore was someone to aspire to.

He chuckled. "Oh no, Minerva, no need. It is a pleasure to watch students like you go through these halls... it makes it worth it. I look forward to watching your life progress. Such a wonderful thing... time."

I grinned at him and turned to walk away, sensing an end to the conversation.

"Oh, and Minerva?"

I turned, looking at him quizzically. "Yes, sir?"

"Just remember, that although someone might not feel something for you, knowing that you felt something as powerful as love for them might just save them during a difficult time in their lives. You should be glad that you can offer solace. That you have the ability to give such a gift to a person you care for should comfort you in a very dark time. Remember that."

I thought for a second, analysing his words. He had heard my confession to Tom? "Thank you, Professor."

I turned and walked away, a soft frown on my delicate features, freeing myself of the pain I had felt for four years.

Dumbledore's words made sense to me, I realised upon entering the Gryffindor Girls dormitories. The others were asleep; it was well after midnight.

Tom Riddle was going to suffer his entire life, I knew it. He was not yet aware of the repercussions of his sinister choices, but I was. He was only going to discover pain and loneliness on his quest for domination and immortality.

But one day, probably in the far future, when he was alone and unhappy, a broken man beyond repair, a soulless person, he would remember that someone had loved him and maybe that would bring him some peace.

That was all that I could hope for; that my love for Tom Riddle would one day give him peace in the sense that he knew that someone, even if it was only me, a mere girl of seventeen, had once loved him.

O O O

Sighing, Minerva McGonagall stared down at her aged, wrinkled hands. She was sitting in her office before a heartily crackling fire, drinking a cup of finely aged mead. Her eyes drifted closed behind her spectacles, and she sank down in her chair, lost in thought and memories.

Today had been horrible for her. The final battle, the end of Voldemort. It had been awful. All those lives lost...

She couldn't help but feel partly responsible. She had allowed Tom to leave, she had let him, knowing that he would no doubt persue a life of wickedry and hatred. And he had. He had caused all this.

This inexcusable loss of life.

She felt a twinge of shame, for ever considering to love him in the first place.

But she couldn't help it. She still couldn't help it.

Love was a funny thing and so was time. Both as hard to hold on to as smoke, but as consuming as fire.

Minerva McGonagall had loved Tom Riddle for nearly sixty years. Even after everything he had done, the atrocities he had committed, the lives he had ruined.

She hated herself for it.

And as such, she had lived the life that she had predicted for him. Her life had been lonely, fear filled, painful. She had endured what should have been his. And it was all because of one mistake.

Despite Albus' teachings on love being a wondrous thing, in her life, it had been a mistake. It had had been an error. A single blunder that changed her future. And not necessarily for the better.

Love had destroyed her.

No, she corrected herself, her navy eyes snapping open. Tom Riddle had destroyed her.

And yet, Minerva McGonagall loved him anyway.

AN: Ahh yes, let's not hate me for getting distracted from darling Violent. It's coming, I promise.

So this is the first in a three shot that I have had sitting, collecting dust on my desktop for a while now. So this was Minerva. And I think (for those of you who remember my tormented ANs from Violent Deception/Deliverance) I think I finally cracked the character of Albus Dumbledore. Gosh, that man gives me grief. I can never get him to be appropriately wacky and yet still very, very wise, but I think I managed to in Clever Girls. Correct me if I am wrong, though (in a review ^_^ ) I shall most likely be posting a banner on my profile very soon, so if you're into that, keep an eye out.

Next up, we have Lily Evans (for all those James/Lily shippers out there, yes I know they're, like, the most adorable couple in the world) and finally Hermione Granger.

Go on, tell me that you're looking forward to it!

(Oh, and some shameless self-advertising while I am, in fact, here: I will be posting a short story very soon. Very unique, I promise. The two mains are Lily Potter II and Bellatrix Lestrange. Yes I know, it's a strange character set, but it works, I'm telling you! It's called Afterimage, so look out!)

xx (apologies for the hideously long AN)