Hi, Megii of Mysteri Ous Stranger, Sarafina , Ijoan and EmilyScarlett! Thank you very much for your reviews! Hope you like this chapter, too. Sorry for being a bit brief- it's late and I am not even supposed to update this - because I really have lots of things I should rather be doing, but oh well. Please tell me what you think ;)

Sachita :-)


Chapter Ten

Scotland, January 4th, 1941

Father had, in a rare show of affection, allowed them to borrow the family sleigh. It was an old sleigh and a beautiful one, with intricate carvings on its sides and red upholstery.

Father had even transfigured a pair of mice into two stately horses. Tom and Minerva had watched in impressed awe. Transfigurations of this magnitude were always a hard thing to accomplish. Minerva had been secretly proud of her father, but when she had smiled at him, he had merely cleared his throat and looked away, ignoring the way Minerva's face fell.

But those gloomy thoughts were far from her mind now as they chased across the endless white landscapes, snow whirling and glistening all around them in the clear cold air. There were no clouds on the brilliant blue expanse of sky. The consequent cold that bit into their faces was barely alleviated by the weak winter sun, yet Minerva didn't mind it. She just huddled deeper into her winter coat and rubbed her hands against each other, sometimes smiling at Tom who was sitting next to her, clad in a similar fashion.

On a snowy hillock, sheltered from the harsh winds that howled over the Highlands by a few boulder rocks, they settled down for a short break. The horses were tiring and their pink nostrils widened with each harsh snort that left white clouds in the frigid air.

Minerva took a look at the snowy expanse in front of her and laughed in delight. The snow came up to her knees and she eventually allowed herself to fall back in the white mass, feeling as if she was nine again. Tom stayed next to the sleigh, watching her in silence.

He looked at her, how she fell back in so dramatic a pose, dark hair scattering all around her in the snow and green eyes alit with mirth as she gazed up to him, all flushed cheeks and snowflake-dusted eyelashes.

Tom felt an odd sort of possessiveness rise up within him. He would be great one day, for sure, admired and feared both- but no matter what, he'd keep Minerva. She was his and would be his in the future. And no one, no one, least of all that villager, was allowed to lay a hand on her or do anything to hurt her. Unconsciously, he clenched his fists.

His plans had become a lot more coherent and she would be a part of them. By his side forever. She was nearly as smart as him anyway so it wasn't as if he wasted his time on a pair of pretty eyes, like the other boys did. He snorted. He wasn't like the others and he knew it. He was better and he would show them all. She, she could be a valuable asset. His queen. A slight smile graced his sharply-cut features. He truly approved of this part of his plan.

"Tom!" Minerva's voice shook him out of his thoughts. "Tom," she repeated, dismayed at the way he stood there with that odd expression, as stiff as a board.

"What are you waiting for, silly?" she called, giggling at his scowl. Not even Tom Riddle's mood swings could make her good mood vanish on this day.

"I just don't see how deliberately allowing oneself to be soaked to the bone can be considered an activity worth pursuing," replied Tom airily.

"Have you never done this when you were small, Tom?"

Normally any reference to his childhood was designed to get a rise out of him and Minerva cringed inwardly. She did not want to ruin this day, for in spite of his current stillness, she had rarely seen Tom so carefree and relaxed as on this day. Part of her was actually tempted to think happy, remembering his genuine laugh at a joke she'd told earlier that day, but she didn't truly know whether he was happy or not being here with her.

During her ponderings, he had finally moved from his position next to the sleigh and had come to stand next to her. She sprang to her feet and nearly teetered of balance in the snowy slew, but Tom was quick to steady her.

"Thanks," she said a little out breath.

"You're welcome," was his smooth reply. "To answer your earlier question," he continued seamlessly, "No. If it snowed in London, it was never as pure as here. The cars and carriages muddy the snow quickly. It was never as pure and clean and never as beautiful as here in Scotland."

He carefully moved a strand of her hair out of her face, his cold touch startling her for she hadn't noticed him being so close out of the sudden. Minerva blushed. This thing between her and Tom hadn't been clearly defined yet and she couldn't help but feel very awkward at the touch of his long fingers.

As if he had read her thoughts, Tom moved away and flashed a sly smile that had Minerva itching to hit him. Instead, she gritted her teeth- that smug smirking Slytherin- and came back with a very belated reply: "Are you trying to tell me that you have never made a snow angel?"

Tom looked doubtfully at the shape Minerva had created with very vigorous movements of her limbs while lying in the snow. "If you ask me," he said drily, "It looks more like a snow witch."

"Tom!" cried Minerva in outrage. Tom laughed at her. His amusement, combined with the biting cold that had infused his pale cheeks and nose with red made him seem more animated than she had ever seen him. "A really odd witch, I might add," he went on. "Look at the odd shape of the head."

He was of course referring to the odd shapes that her long hair had left in the snow.

"You make a horrible angel," Tom told her, still smirking. Minerva's indignant mask cracked and she couldn't hold back a smirk of her own. "I suppose you are right, Tom. Why don't you try and see if you can make a snow angel?"

Dismay flashed across Tom's face but it was gone before Minerva saw it. "I'd make a horrible angel, too, Minerva," he answered shortly. "Besides, I told you already that I have no desire to get soaked to the bone." With that he strode towards the sleigh. Minerva looked after him, her merriment slowly fading. A sharp breeze from where they weren't sheltered by the boulders made her shiver, even though objectively nothing had changed; still, the sun was shining and the snow was glittering.

Minerva however wrapped her coat around her thin frame and hurried after Tom.


The sleigh ride home was silent. Minerva didn't know what she had done wrong, but she felt that it must have been something. Looking over to Tom, she saw that he was resolutely looking at the wintry landscape flying by. Squaring her shoulders determinedly, Minerva followed his example and looked in the other direction.

"I would make a horrible angel. They used to call us little angels," Tom said suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"In the orphanage. The visitors who came to see if they would adopt someone always called us little angels. They never chose me, of course. The Muggles"- and he spat that word out- "would call us angels, even if they didn't care for our existence. We are orphans. The Nameless. The ones who won't be missed, the ones who won't be mourned if they were wiped out by some German bomb. How hypocritical. It's the same with the wizard community though. You don't exist for them if you don't have some age-old pureblood lineage card stored away somewhere."

Minerva had been listening to him in wide-eyed silence. She didn't know why he would divulge all this.

When their looks met, she was surprised to see that he did not look dismayed about his revelations to her, but rather composed as if he had become so used to living with the things he had just enumerated that it wasn't as if revealing his secrets meant exposing himself to her anymore. It was as if he had rather converted his vulnerabilities into a shield that left the other at a loss instead. Minerva was impressed by his tactics.

"Why are you telling me this, Tom?" she asked slowly, all words of comfort that she might have thought up stuck in her throat for she had understood some time ago that Tom hated being pitied.

The look of Tom's dark blue eyes was nearly hypnotising.
"It's," he began, "something like an introduction to something else that I wish to know. You are from a Pureblood family and your family has enough riches so that you also have a place in the esteem of the consumer society of the Muggles. As such you seem to encompass exactly what I've just mentioned. So I am asking you, Minerva. Would you stand by my side? Or would you look down on me just like the others do?"

Minerva frowned at the question and wondered whether he hadn't really forgiven her for that moment in the park half a year ago after all. The answer came to her readily enough, it was a simple answer, yet things were never simple with Tom and who knew – maybe he was waiting for another answer entirely?

With an impatient gleam in the eye, Tom urged: "Come on, Minerva. I am waiting."
"Why, yes, of course, "Minerva snapped in faint irritation. "What do you want from me, Tom?"

He didn't reply directly, instead smoothed his fringe of way hair back from his forehead. There was a feverish, nearly fanatical glint in the depths of his eyes.

"Even if it was Professor Dumbledore?"

At her confused look he said heatedly: "He looks down on me just the same. Do you know how many times I've tried to gain his approval, something that seems to come so effortlessly to you? Do you know hard I tried doing my first year at Hogwarts to win his recognition? But all he did was look at me as if I was an insect to be squashed, something disgusting…"

Tom sneered, his voice dripping with derision and his face contorted to a hateful mask. "He looked at me as if I was something dangerous. Something to be locked up. Just like the people in the Orphanage looked at me my entire life. As if I wasn't worth their appreciation, because I am a freak."

He clenched his fists, a wild angry look in his eyes that burned like fire but when his gaze met Minerva's there was surprise and dismay in his look, as if he had only just realised that he wasn't alone. She knew in that moment, that his words had come unchecked and that he had said more than he had initially wanted to.

Tom's tall frame was trembling after his outburst and his hands were white-knuckled as he clung to the red upholstery of the sleigh. Carefully, Minerva put a soothing hand on his arm.

She felt her heart beat to her throat because she knew that her next words would in some sense be decisive.

"I would even stand by your side against Dumbledore," she replied eventually, but added firmly, " Only if he did something unjust, of course."

But that second part didn't seem to deter Tom. With a quick movement he covered the distance between them and in a rare show of affection, crushed her against his side with a strong grip. "Thank you," he breathed and there was genuine gratitude in his voice.

Nearly smothered against his side, inhaling the smell of winter, books and clothes and something that was uniquely Tom, Minerva couldn't help but feel uneasy about what she'd just agreed to. Still, this was Tom, her Tom whom she held dear even if it was for his darkness and his twisted way of thinking, Tom who had endured so much in his life which maybe explained the way he acted and Tom who she didn't want to lose because he meant already too much to her.

The only thing she'd done after all was to affirm that she would stand by his side and defend him against clear injustice. The nagging inward voice wouldn't shut up though and only later, much later in her life did Minerva realise what the problem had been.

The definition of injustice varied after all from person to person.


Hogwarts, February 14th, 1941

"A bouquet of roses for the Lady," Peeves simpered some way ahead of her and a Hufflepuff Third Year shrieked as the poltergeist proceeded to let foul-smelling flowers rain down on her. A few Slytherins laughed at her misfortune.

"Minerva!" A fellow Gryffindor Prefect called James Taylor had spotted her and made his way over to her hurriedly. "Please stop him. You are the only one he sometimes listens to."

Minerva sighed and nodded her acquiescence. "I'll try." Walking over to the unfortunate Hufflepuff and her companions briskly, she barked a harsh: "Peeves!"

The poltergeist froze in midair, his mouth comically half-opened and just in the process of throwing another bouquet of foul-smelling roses at the girls. "Peeves! Don't you remember our little conversation from a few days ago?"

Peeves looked defiant, but he slowly dropped the bouquet and floated away, muttering rude words about "Evil Minnie Mouse spoiling all the fun!"

"I wish I'd know how you do it," James said in awe, his blue eyes wide with wonderment.

Minerva merely smiled and nodded at him, then walked away. She wasn't about to divulge the little advantage she had over Peeves out of all people to James who could never keep his mouth shut.

Poppy caught up to her when she was on her way to the Great Hall to get some lunch.

"Min," she greeted cheerily.

"Hello Poppy," Minerva replied. "Are you going to accompany me to lunch? "

"Sure." Poppy leaned closer with a playful gleam in her brown eyes. "I heard you had a run-in with our resident poltergeist today."

"How did you come to hear that?"

Poppy laughed. "Why, our resident press reporter of course."

"James," Minerva guessed and when Poppy nodded, she was instantly even gladder that she hadn't told the boy anything. He'd ruin everything.

"You could tell me why Peeves obeys you and I promise I won't tell a soul," Poppy whispered.

Minerva smirked. "Well, he is a male poltergeist and after I threatened to…well, let's say, hex a few important parts…of course it's not possible, mind you, but he doesn't know that. I merely said I was resourceful and he believed that."

Poppy nearly fell over with laughter. "Merlin, Minerva!" she cried in exuberance. "I wouldn't want you as my enemy!"

Minerva snorted and held the door open for her friend.

The Great Hall was filled with bustling owls, more so than usual.

Also there were pink translucent hearts floating in the air and there was a lemondrop on each plate. She looked suspiciously to the teacher's table just in time to see Professor Dumbledore smile at her, his blue eyes twinkling madly behind his half-moon glasses.

Minerva returned his smile and then looked to Poppy on her right side.

"So…have any Valentines today?"

Poppy blushed instantly and Minerva couldn't help but rib her on a bit. "Maybe from a certain Ravenclaw Fourth Year called William Thornton?" Poppy's blush intensified. "He sent a card and flowers," she replied with a little happy smile. "What about you, Min?" she asked with a mischievous grin.

"Well, I-"Minerva started but broke off as they approached their usual places at the long Gryffindor table. There was a bouquet of red roses at her place as well as a bar of white chocolate. Minerva hated white chocolate with a passion. When she looked over to the Slytherin table, taking care not to look too noticeably, Tom merely shook his head, but he was glaring. Minerva frowned at him and stared again at the bouquet. Maybe it wasn't for her? No, it was for her. There was a small envelope tied to the roses, saying "Minerva" in bold letters.

"How romantic," Aimee sighed. Minerva shot her a look and moved to open the envelope. Her relationship with the girls in her own year had improved somewhat ever since she had befriended the cheerful amicable Poppy who helped mend some bridges, but Minerva had no desire to go beyond that. She had Poppy's friendship and via Poppy had also made the acquaintance of a few other Fourth Year Gryffindor girls and she had of course Tom.

Tom, who still hadn't told her, what she was to him now, but who was glaring holes into her back over from the Slytherin table. She could see it out of the corners of her eyes. Ignoring him- he hadn't thought to send her anything today after all!- she unfolded the letter.

Roses are red, Violets are blue, Sugar is sweet and so are you- guess who.

"How imaginative," Poppy sniped.

Minerva looked up from the card to gaze around the Great Hall. To her astonishment, Jonathan Davies, an Irishman in Ravenclaw whom Elma had once, years ago, decided to be amongst the most handsome boys of the school winked at her.

He was handsome, no doubt there, with his brown hair that had been rakishly combed to one side and his clear green eyes...

In spite of herself, Minerva blushed.

But…she chanced another look at Tom, who was looking absolutely livid. If he didn't even bother to show his outward stoicism she knew it had to be really dreadful.

Suddenly concerned for Jonathan's safety, she scribbled a return note and handed it to Hannah, a First Year, one of the students who she tutored. "Could you please give this to Jonathan Davies?"

"Certainly," Hannah beamed and Minerva felt a little guilty for exploiting the girl's affection. She decided to be extra thorough in her tuition session next time and see that the girl learned even more.

Jonathan's face fell when he received the note and he turned away from her, but Minerva felt immensely relieved.

"What did you write to him?" Poppy asked in surprise.

"That I don't return his affections," Minerva sighed.

"What?" Elma asked loudly, her policy of not talking to Minerva apparently forgotten. "How could you? He is one of the best-looking boys at the entire school! Any girl would be lucky to have him!"

"I do not recall asking you for your opinion, Elma. Also, I have my reasons," was all Minerva said to that. Poppy next to her positioned herself between the red-haired girl and Minerva, deliberately ignoring the former.

"If you want to talk, you know where to find me," she said softly. Minerva felt an unexpected burst of warmth at Poppy's words, happy to have found such a good friend. After she'd come to thank her for telling Professor Dumbledore about her whereabouts when Accuratore had attempted to silence Tom and her, Poppy had also asked very little questions. She was not naïve and probably knew more than she let on, but she was too loyal to Minerva to ask.

William Thornton, tall, dark-haired and suave, chose that moment to approach their table. "Might I persuade this Lady to have her lunch with me over at the Ravenclaw table?" he asked and smiled at Poppy, who blushed and took his hand. Minerva looked after them in fondness. They made a good couple, she thought, both of them having warm-hearted dispositions and a talent to cheer their classmates up whenever one of them was down- not a rarity in these dark days. War was after all still looming over them.

For a second she wished Tom would just stop the secrecy and she wished that they could be like Poppy and William, departing the Great Hall hand in hand with only eyes for one another.

Free of the talk that this action would arouse, free of the disdain of the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike. Just her and Tom and the entire world open to them. For a moment she wished they could embark on a journey to see the entire world, just the two of them, free of preconceived notions, societal rules and regulations- visit India, Africa, the Americas, see New York and all those places her brother told her about. Her heart sank as she thought about all the reasons why this wasn't possible now and would probably be never possible for the two of them.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she looked again to the Slytherin table. Tom, much to her surprise, was not at his usual place. Quickly, she looked over to the Ravenclaw table. Jonathan, however, was still there and looking at her accusingly when her eyes fell on him.

Minerva quickly looked away and sat down to have lunch, ignoring Elma's incredulous stares, who after a while tired of being ignored and looked away.


After Transfiguration, Minerva was walking out of the door of the classroom, chatting with Professor Dumbledore about the Fifth Law of Elemental Transfiguration, something that interested her immensely, when they came upon a very strange sight.

Minerva gasped and a hand flew to her mouth. She didn't even notice that she had stopped talking in the middle of a sentence.

Jonathan Davies, face pale and a bruise adorning his cheek was being led along the corridor by none other than Tom, who appeared composed and a little concerned as he helped Davies hobble along. Davies was visibly swaying and having trouble concentrating on his steps. His immaculate hairdo was all over the place and there was a strange, wild look in his eyes.

Minerva couldn't do anything but stare in shocked silence. When she met Tom's eyes he looked unperturbed at her horrified look.

"Mister Riddle, Mister Davies," Dumbledore said in obvious worry, "what happened?"

"I found Jonathan like this when I crossed a corridor to get to the Common Room, sir," Tom explained seriously, every inch the model student. Oh, and he had his act down to a tee. Everyone would believe this handsome boy with the earnest blue eyes, but Minerva had seen how he had glared over to Jonathan at dinner.

The Professor didn't seem to be entirely convinced either. The quick thoughtful look he shot at Minerva had her thinking that maybe he suspected more than he let on, too.

"Very well, Mister Riddle. Do you have any idea who might have done this to him?"

"No, sir." Tom shook his head, a perturbed look on his face. "I would have brought them to see the Headmaster otherwise, sir. But there was no one."

"Mister Davies," Dumbledore said after a short pause, "what can you tell us?"

Jonathan seemed barely coherent, hanging there in Tom's grip. His words were slurred. "I dunno, sir. Don't remember- just remember Riddle helping me."

"Alright. I shall accompany you to the hospital wing. Miss McGonagall, we will continue our discussion as soon as possible. I find the topic extremely important."

"Thank you, sir," Minerva said and watched the little procession. Before they rounded the corner, Tom turned back to her and she was sure that she could read a "Later" on his lips.


Indeed, he found her later, as she was attempting to enter the Great Hall. She was late for dinner, almost too late, but she hoped she could grab something quick to eat nonetheless.

That was when he came from seemingly out of nowhere and grabbed her upper arms harshly.

"Tom!" Minerva cried. "Let me go!"

He did let her go then and brushed a hand through his raven locks, visibly upset. "The nerve of that Davies," he seethed. Abruptly his look shot to her. "Did you encourage him?"

"What," Minerva cried, "no, I did not! What did you to him? What did you do, Tom?"

Tom smiled sickeningly slowly. "I didn't do anything, Minerva," he drawled calmer.

"What did you let your- your minions then do to him?"

"No one harms what is mine, Minnie," Tom explained tersely.

"That's not a reply to my question! And I shall have you know that I am no one's, least of all yours, Tom Riddle!"

Tom gave her a look that bordered on wry amusement. "I thought that I am your gentleman friend, Minerva," he said softly. "Isn't that how they call it nowadays?"

Earlier that day she would have been delighted to hear him confirm it, delighted and slightly apprehensive at the same time, but in that moment she only felt anger.
"That doesn't give you the right to harm an innocent, Tom!" she snapped crossly.

"Oh Minerva," he breathed and crossed the distance between them, "You are beautiful when you are agitated."

Before she could have reacted, his lips were on hers.

In the same moment, the doors of the Great Hall opened as dinner was now officially over and Minerva and Tom found themselves facing the looks of the entire school as they still stood there lip-locked.

Minerva pushed away from him. She only saw Poppy's surprised and slightly betrayed look in the mass of Gryffindors and oddly enough, Professor Dumbledore's surprised and dismayed expression from the teachers table.

Then she turned around and ran.


Poppy found her that evening, sitting alone on the floor of the Astronomy Tower.

"I wouldn't have said anything, you know," she said quietly.

"I know," Minerva answered and she was horrified to hear that her voice was cracking.

"Oh Minerva," Poppy said softly. "You don't have to be made of stone all the time."

That did it- Minerva found herself suddenly breaking out into great, gulping sobs that left her breathless for a long time, sitting there on the cold stony floor, Poppy's warm hand on her shoulder her only comfort.


Hogwarts, Early March 1941

"You need to wave your wand a bit differently. Watch me and see how I am doing it."

"It's so hard!"

"You just have to try," Minerva gave back in frustration. She had been attempting to teach the spell, a simple levitation spell, to Myrtle for an hour now and there was no progress because the girl was as stubborn as a mule.

"Minerva….can I ask you something?" There was a hopelessly lost look in Myrtle's wide grey eyes behind her glasses that had Minerva sigh.

"Yes, Myrtle?"

"Are you and Tom…is he your gentleman friend?"

Minerva looked at her for a second. "That is none of your business, Myrtle," she replied none-too-unfriendly, but with firmness.

"Because I saw you and him kissing. But Olive Hornby- although she is mean to me-" for a second Minerva feared the girl might start crying- "said that he does strange things. She says the Slytherins follow him. Sometimes he and some of the older students disappear for hours. Olive has watched them, she told me. She says he is wrong. But he is such a gentleman! And so handsome!"

Myrtle looked tearfully at Minerva for a second, shaking her long braids, before stammering: "But he isn't wrong, is he? Olive is just being mean? You would know wouldn't you?"

Minerva felt a jolt go through her at Myrtle's words. She wasn't so sure that Olive Hornby hadn't been telling the truth about Tom getting up to something with his fellow Slytherins. The girl was dim-witted and mean and embodied only the bad traits of the Slytherin house, but Minerva knew that she also possessed an uncanny attentiveness.

"I am sure she is wrong, Myrtle," she replied shortly. "Now concentrate on your wand movements."


Professor Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts, March 1941

"Are you well, Minerva?"

Minerva had been brooding for weeks over Myrtle's words at that point. Tom had several times attempted to talk to her, but she would have none of it, as hard as that was at times. Word had been going round that they had a row and so Minerva was the recipient of many looks, some smug, some pitying. The looks she received from many girls were filled with plain dislike though.

But they all had no idea of what Tom could be like. Jonathan Davies hadn't looked at her again after his release from Madam Yuhe's care and there was an odd kind of terror and nervousness to him that hadn't been there before.

"I am sorry, Professor," she replied after a short pause. "I got lost in thought. I am fine, thank you."

Dumbledore eyed her thoughtfully over his steaming cup of tea. They were having one of their regular meetings over a cup of tea. Normally, Minerva enjoyed these meetings a lot for the Professor was her role model and a highly intellectual interlocutor whom she could learn a lot from, but the thoughts of Tom kept nagging at her.

"I couldn't help but notice that there seems to be something wrong between you and Mister Riddle," her favourite Professor pressed on. Minerva looked up and caught a very concerned look from him.

"It's nothing," she replied quickly. Her problems were her own and she didn't like to accept help from the outside.

"Of course," the Professor said politely. "I have here, however, a book that you might enjoy."

He handed a thick volume with a green cover to her. Minerva read the intricate golden letters on it with great surprise.

"The process of becoming an Animagus," she read out loud and then looked up. "Professor, why did you give me this book?"

"I have found it to be an interesting read, Minerva," was all he would say. "Take a look at it, will you? I should very much like to discuss the section on elemental transfiguration processes mentioned in chapter three with you when you come around for the next round of tea."

"Of course, Professor," Minerva replied mechanically and put the book away. Even if it was something that would have very much interested her on any normal day, now she couldn't fake interest. Tom and his group of Slytherins kept nagging at her.

"May I be excused, Professor?" she inquired finally. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow and it's getting late."

"Of course," the Professor replied considerately. "Please, just promise me something," he said and Minerva wouldn't ever forget the intent expression on his wise face on that day.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked curiously.

"Be careful," Professor Dumbledore said and leaned back, regarding her with an inscrutable look. "Be careful whatever you do."

Minerva looked at him in puzzled silence for a moment, but she nodded and got up finally, wishing him a goodnight and heading towards Gryffindor Tower.

The idea came to her as she was walking back to the Common Room. It was a risky idea, but she knew that otherwise it would never leave her alone.

Only later, much later, did it occur to her that it was exactly because of this idea why Professor Dumbledore had given her the book on Animagi.


tbc