A/N: Hey, everyone! I apologize for my not updating for a while, but I've been really busy with finals, and the week following finals was very difficult for other reasons. I also apologize for the lack of humor in this chapter. But I'm back and ready to write more for you! Thank you to everyone who favorited and especially to Sachita and Sherbetkitty who left such kind reviews. There will be a Miss Jean Brody reference again, by the way, a shamelessly large one. On to the fic!
Following The Incident, it became rather obvious that something had happened between the transfiguration and DADA professors. Riddle and McGonagall were certainly warmer with each other than before, but gradually any semblance of caution disappeared. It was only a matter of time, Riddle decided, before Dumbledore reached the breaking point and called them in to interrogate them again. He had taken care that no one, save Slughorn, had actually managed to witness anything. Slughorn was enough, but due to his loose-lipped nature, nothing would remain under wraps for long.
A rumor spread among the students, likely Slughorn-instigated, that something delicious had happened between their two youngest professors. The conspiracy theorists speculated that it was a calculated move to throw them off and make them so distracted that they would fail their classes. They were the two least lenient professors after all, and would stop at nothing to make life still more difficult for their students. The normal children, not destined for careers as Aurors or in magical law, thought it was "sooooo cuuuuute!"
All in all, the fairly dull lives of the slandering students were significantly brightened by the affair. The younger children simply found it amusing, but the elder ones exchanged snide, significant looks and comments in their common rooms, analyzing each visit and every word exchanged. The student body single-handedly blew the romance to such epic proportions that in time a great deal was myth, and as much was truth. Naturally, Riddle was aware of this but was not about to stop any of it, so long as it served his purpose.
But that all came much later.
Naturally, Minerva had misgivings about the whole encounter the morning after, despite her initial reaction. The fact that it was Tom Riddle was reason enough to behave with a little more composure and guarded suspicion. Nearly ten years of my life were dedicated to building that ice-queen demeanor, she thought ruefully, and now it's all gone, for the likes of Tom Riddle. She also was livid that Slughorn had walked in and caught them unawares. Naturally he would tell Dumbledore, and it was disgustingly plausible that he'd exaggerate what he'd seen to something truly scandalous. Minerva McGonagall was a progressive woman, but she still would consider it an insult to her character if Slughorn let on that anything more than an innocent -or perhaps not so innocent- kiss had transpired.
She mused about the effectiveness of a memory charm on the man, and was shocked at herself for the thought.
And then of course there was that small issue of facing Tom at breakfast... with Dumbledore present...and Slughorn as well.
Riddle was questioning whether he had been too thorough in removing evidence of his and Minerva's tryst. On the one hand, he didn't want Dumbledore's suspicions to be too aroused at this point. On the other hand, people needed hard evidence if they were to believe anything. And of course, it wasn't as though two young, single, attractive professors could go about romantically involved, and not incite interest and amusement in the students! There had to be a way that would endear the idea to the students -and therefore endear himself to them- as well as serve his greater purpose, the makings of an army. But what would work?
He considered potential methods over breakfast in the Great Hall, blanching inwardly when Dumbledore -damnably politely, of course- asked that he please pass the grapes, of all things. The man never ate grapes. No, he must be paranoid. Soon he'd be exclaiming "constant vigilance" like that nutter Alastor in the Ministry. He made a mental note to dispose of him once he rose to power, or at least do something about his abominably huge nose. A non-existant nose would be a better alternative to that monstrosity, he decided. The pleasant scent of Minerva's perfume wafted across to him as she took her seat beside Slughorn, breaking him from his reverie and causing him to stealthily look in their direction. Minerva was beginning to flush pink as her conversation with Slughorn progressed -much like she had in his office, Riddle thought with amusement- as he doubtlessly subjected her to the third degree. Her expression was earnest, and she tried in vain to retain the icy composure for which she would later be renowned for. A quick charm allowed him to hear their words.
Fast-forward
"Fred, look at this!"
"What is it?"
"Some chap made a spell that lets you hear conversations you aren't privy to!"
"Blimey, George, do you have anything better to tell me?"
"Remember your idea for extendable ears, and how your charm wouldn't work?"
The revelation dawned on Fred Weasely, as he stared at the faded parchment scrap in Umbridge's desk, lost for decades. "George, I think it's time we pay tribute to all the great pranksters who walked-"
"-through Hogwarts' hallowed halls? Couldn't agree more, mate."
Resume story
Riddle promptly cast the spell, and returned to looking innocent, an act he had taken to practicing in front of his mirror after his first date with Minerva, as he ate breakfast.
"...really nothing, Professor."
"My dear, what I saw was certainly not 'nothing.' I, for one, find you both to be a lovely match. You know, I was just saying to Dumbledore, I said-"
"You can't have told Professor Dumbledore," Minerva said tersely, cutting Slughorn off mid-sentence. "I'm quite certain there are strictures in place against the sort of thing, and you are too fond of Tom to..to..."
"You worry too much! And this isn't unheard of you know," he said, eyes twinkling. "You both aren't the first and I doubt you'll be the last. I'll call him over." Minerva's protestations fell on deaf ears, as Slughorn reached around the astronomy professor to tug on Dumbledore's sleeve. "Albus, did I tell you..?"
With that, Riddle ended the charm, satisfied. If Dumbledore didn't call them in for questioning, he would be very disappointed. Almost on cue, just as the meal ended, Dumbledore beckoned to him; he observed that Minerva was already standing. "Meet me in my office, Tom," Dumbledore said. "Minerva has already consented to join us."
Riddle inclined his head, narrowing his eyes at Dumbledore's retreating form. Thinks he's very clever, that one...
"Are you coming, or not?" Minerva asked, standing a few feet away, hands on hips. "He's waiting, you know."
Riddle walked towards her, falling into step with her as they approached the staircase that led to the headmaster's office. He moved in so he was uncomfortable close, allowing his hand to brush hers, causing her to casually hide it in the folds of her tartan skirt. Riddle concealed a smile. "What do you suppose he's going to...interrogate us about, ma minette?"
"Interesting term of endearment, Tom. Don't you think you're getting your hopes up rather quickly?" Her tone was waspish.
"You can't honestly think you haven't given ample room to do so."
She blushed, though whether it was from embarrassment or anger he couldn't tell. "I don't usually do that."
"Ah, so I'm an unusual case for you. Doesn't that give me all the more reason to think-"
"You're being ridiculous."
"You're raising your voice..." Minerva looked taken aback and lowered her tones. "...minette."
Her face snapped up to meet his, and her eyes expressed annoyance and humor. "How many times must I tell you, mon cher, that I-"
"Clearly a thousand more times, so I can hear more French endearments from you, though I'd hoped for a more creative one."
"Don't grow accustomed to it." She arched a brow. "Why 'minette' of all things?"
"Because, mon mimi, you're rather cat-like."
"How so?" she said, ignoring his next attempt.
"Not important. Intuition. Call it what you may."
"That's your answer to everything, isn't it? Intuition? How much of your supposed intuition is glorified snooping around?"
"I refuse to answer that, as it will irritate you more." This prompted a smile from her.
"Why are you so fond of French? At least tell me that."
"Do you not find it a lovely language?" Riddle said nonchalantly. "It's also wonderful when one is in search of a good anagram, or perhaps a method of kissing."
"Hmmm. Depends on who's speaking it." She ignored his last remark.
"And if it's me?"
She laughed. "Your accent is nearly perfect."
"I would love to discuss your obvious aversion to your still more obvious feelings for me -don't try and deny it just yet!" he said, laying a long finger across her lips as she opened her mouth in protest, "-but we're at Dumbledore's office, and I don't think he'd approve of this conversation when he likely has something different in mind."
"You are so full of yourself." She addressed the gargoyle. "Oh, damn. What was the password again?"
"Licorice snap, unless I'm much mistaken."
Once inside, they settled into the two comfortable armchairs Dumbledore had already conjured. Riddle noticed the liquor cabinet, sadly devoid of any absinthe, and likely stocked with oak matured mead and gin in its place. Clearly, Dumbledore was a man of less refined tastes, though the plethora of silver instruments and finery in the room was evidence to the contrary. Overcompensation, perhaps?
"Tom, Minerva, please take a seat." Dumbledore sat down behind his desk, eyes twinkling merrily as he popped three lemon drops into his mouth.
Riddle exchanged a look with Minerva. "We're already seated, Dumbledore, but thank you for your... hospitality."
"Ah, yes. Forgive me, I'm accustomed to being seated before others walk in, but there's actually a wonderful story as to why I wasn't today." Dumbledore steepled his fingers and was silent for a few moments, apparently reminiscing.
"...Are you going to tell us the story?" Minerva asked.
"Oh! Certainly, if you're interested."
"We really aren't," said Riddle, but Dumbledore continued as though he hadn't spoken.
"Fawkes was upstairs, and the window was open because he had just returned from a morning flight. Marvelous birds, phoenixes." He paused again.
"Go on," Riddle said through clenched teeth.
"Ah yes, forgive me," Dumbledore continued. "Just as he returned, a toucan flew in after him! Now, I spent some time studying tropical birds in my youth, and I knew this was no ordinary phenomenon. Either this is an extraordinary toucan, or the result of some extraordinary magic." Minerva and Tom exchanged looks again. "But the reason I was delayed is, to put it simply, Fawkes and the toucan started to cuddle, and it was perhaps the most darling thing I've ever seen. So naturally I did what any sane man would do: take photographs of Fawkes and his new friend." He paused, beaming at them. "And that's why I was late."
"That's...very interesting, Professor," Minerva said politely. Riddle sighed audibly and rolled his eyes.
"No, Minerva, you found it boring, as did Tom, but that's quite all right. I think he wants to get to the reason I summoned you both."
"Yes, please do," said Tom, the ire in his voice obvious. "I have a class in ten minutes."
"I'm aware."
"As omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."
"Thank you." He looked at the pair intently. "Care to explain why Slughorn informed me of 'quite the delicious scene,' to use his words?"
"To explain that to you I'd need to know what you were informed of," Riddle said, his hand straying to Minerva's as he did so. She tensed, tendons and bones standing out on her slim hand, but she relaxed, letting him take it in his.
"You were -again, using his terminology- 'getting intimate' in your office, Tom." Dumbledore chuckled. "Forgive me, I just had a funny thought. Unrelated, of course."
Minerva blushed, and started to speak, but Riddle again interrupted. "Is that an accusation?"
"No, no. But if claims are made about you, Tom, I would think you'd prefer to know what was being said." Dumbledore was once again using his name more than strictly necessary, Riddle noticed with irritation, and was making accusations in such a roundabout way so as to avoid admitting to accusing him of anything afterward. It was very much his style, and if it were anyone but Dumbledore, Riddle would have appreciated it.
"Sir, we had tea in Tom's office, and we happened to kiss, and Slughorn walked in. It was completely innocent, I assure you." Minerva felt as though she was lying by omission, but she wasn't sure she could handle an indefinite period of back-and-forth between the men. "As far as I know, there's no policy forbidding it, though if there is..."
"Thank you, Minerva. I should like it very much if you would inform me should anything indecorous occur. There are young students in Hogwarts after all." Dumbledore's voice was gentle.
"Of course," she said softly.
"Minerva, you may go. Tom-"
Riddle was not in the mood for questioning, not when he had several of his own that he knew would not be answered. First of all, how the hell did Mr. Lowther befriend Fawkes? The last thing he needed was for his own creation to turn into a spy for Dumbledore. And second, there was that double standard again! Minerva would leave, and Riddle would get any consequences associated with Dumbledore's knowledge of The Incident, which was likely far worse than the truth, considering the information came from Slughorn. Naturally, Dumbledore was right to have a double standard, but it made things difficult for him, and Riddle preferred convenience. So he did the only thing he could: a righteous display of anger.
"I won't be accused in this manner," he said, tone wounded with an undertone of danger. "I am a teacher, first, last, and always. You should know better than anyone else, Dumbledore, how much this school means to me." He turned to where Minerva sat. "If you want slander, I'll give you all the slander you need and save you the trouble of supposing and creating events-" and he drew McGonagall up from her chair, kissing her forcefully, though toning it down in comparison to The Incident. He broke away, even as she responed, holding her in place by an arm wrapped firmly around her waist. "When my class begins, my students will find me composed and ready to reveal to them techniques for casting nonverbal spells." He turned to leave in a dramatic flurry of robes and overacting.
Minerva looked stunned, extricating herself from Tom's embrace and hurrying to the desk. "I'll calm him down, Professor."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Tom always was quite the actor. Be careful, will you, Minerva?"
"Certainly." She hurried after him.
Once the door closed behind her, Dumbledore summoned the toucan. "I need a spy," he began.
Minerva hurried into the DADA classroom, finding Riddle preparing for the class. "What is the matter with you?"
"Whatever do you mean?" Riddle inquired.
"Do you want to get us both fired?"
"He won't fire you, and if he tries to fire me, he'll have a difficult time going about it." His head snapped up from his papers. "Did you know that Dumbledore studied tropical birds? Because I certainly didn't." He wondered if Dumbledore had found his book.
"What? No, but that's not the point! It doesn't appear proper for us to-"
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'd like to do it again." He stopped speaking as the class filed in. "And if you share the same sentiments, you need only say so," he added in a low voice.
Minerva turned to leave, not wanting to interrupt. "I would prefer ma mie, if you are so fond of French."
"Excellent," Riddle said with a smile. "I'll expect you after my last class."
"I'll be there." Once the door shut behind her, he stood up and addressed his students.
"What do you all think of starting a dueling club?"
A/N: I hope y'all like it! I wrote this for you lovely people during the wee hours of the night, fell asleep, and finished it as soon as I woke up! And if anyone has suggestions for where this story can go, leave them in the comments; I'm losing my train of thought. Cookies to anyone who found the Miss Jean Brodie reference!
