A/N: Thank you to , mewmewvern, Sachita, Aquitane, and Slightly procrastinating. You guys are the best. Also, to my friends who are reading this, you have no idea how much I appreciate you dealing with my incessant reminders to read my crap. You guys are the best. Now on to the fic!

Riddle woke up with a peculiar soreness in his neck, which he only exacerbated when he curiously rotated it. He clapped a hand over his neck scowling, wondering how he could have sprained it. His eyes fell across the papers on his lap, the quill which had left a large inkblot on his sleeve and hand, and Minerva, still asleep against his shoulder. And that explains everything, Riddle concluded as he continued to massage the sore muscle, exhaling slowly as he did so. Clearly, he had fallen asleep sitting up at some point while grading, and she just hadn't bothered to leave. Gingerly, he moved his shoulder away, working carefully so as to not disturb her, and set about organizing his papers and safely hiding the books Cygnus had sent. He had been finished for a while and was at his desk, all grading newly completed, when Minerva finally stretched and opened her eyes, heavily lidded from sleeping. It was reminiscent of a young kitten one of the children at the orphanage had, Riddle thought smilingly. Except that he had deliberately made the kitten walk into a nearby pond to its fluffy doom, when he was still finding out about his powers and wanted to try them out. Perhaps that wasn't the best comparison.. Oh well.

"What time is it?" Minerva stretched, again reminding Riddle of a cat, and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"Probably eight, or eight-thirty at most."

Minerva dragged herself up into a sitting position. "Finished yet?" She waved vaguely towards his papers.

"Nearly ten minutes ago."

She collapsed into the pillows again, face first, her black hair puddling around her and obscuring her face. "I'm tired."

Riddle laughed. "I know."

She made a muffled noise that he took to be her reply, rounding and straightening her back as she did so. Turning her head, she repeated more clearly, "Would you object to me using your shower?"

Riddle was surprised, finding her behavior most uncharacteristic, but acquiesced. "Go ahead."

She stood, still bleary-eyed. "It's the only thing that'll wake me up." She set off for the bathroom, missing the door and nearly walking into the wall. Riddle hastily stopped her.

"Watch where you're going."

"Whatever," she retorted, making it into the bathroom safely and locking the door. Ten minutes of hot water and a much clearer mind later, Minerva realized she had forgotten something very important. "Tom," she called with trepidation, "could you get me-"

Riddle rolled his eyes and left before she could finish her sentence, returning with her clothes. "I'll wait outside," he told her through the door. "Your things are on my bed."

"You're a saint, darling," Minerva replied. "No sarcasm either, promise."

Riddle felt conspicuous, standing outside his own room in such a disheveled state. Of course, only one thing could make this turn of events problematic, but what were the odds of Slughorn showing up at these hours? The man hardly woke up before 8:30, and that was on school days. Naturally, despite his newfound sainthood, luck was not with Riddle that morning, as Slughorn, wearing a ridiculous velvet robe and slippers, waddled down the hallway. Riddle leaned against the wall casting his eyes skyward in disgust, banging his head against the doorframe as he did so. "Why does this always happen to me?" he muttered.

"Tom! What are you doing up like this?" Slughorn's eyes took in the rumpled shirt, the inkstain, the mussed hair, and the obvious red mark across the side of his face, likely the result of Minerva's head on his shoulder for a prolonged stretch of time. In fact, the only thing Slughorn didn't take in was the murderous ire in Riddle's eyes.

"Just waiting," Riddle said blandly. "What are you doing up before nine?"

Slughorn ignored the veiled insult, or perhaps was too thick to comprehend it. "I went to bed early last night. I can't say the same for you, though. Where were you all day?"

"Avoiding you." Riddle said quite seriously, smiling when Slughorn's grin seemed to waver. "Joking, Slughorn! I had business in London."

Slughorn relaxed, clapping Riddle on the shoulder. "Of course, dear boy, of course." He looked at Riddle curiously. "But why are you out like this?"

Riddle shrugged. "My room is occupied at the moment." He rapped on the door sharply with his knuckles. "Are you nearly finished?"

"Almost!" was the faint reply.

Slughorn's grin began to widen. "Who's in your room, Tom?"

Riddle gave Slughorn a pointed look as the door opened and Minerva stepped out, hair still damp. "All right, the shower is all yours... oh. Hello, Professor." She threw Riddle an irritated glance, returning her attention to Slughorn. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Slughorn's eyebrows were making themselves insufferable yet again, and he made no effort to restrain himself. "I already explained that to Tom here." He paused, apparently trying to form words through his glee. "So, ah... what exactly... um.."

Ignoring him, Riddle twined a damp lock around his finger. "Trying to catch pneumonia?" he asked her.

"Yes, yes I am." Minerva snapped his wrist with her fingers. "Stop that."

"You didn't have a problem with it last night."

"Tom!" She looked scandalized, eyes flicking towards Slughorn. "Excuse us, Professor." Smiling fakely over her shoulder, she dragged Riddle away by his shirt front, stopping a few feet down the hall. "What the hell, Tom. What happened to 'I'm imagining Slughorn's face and that's reason enough to keep things private'?"

"Sorry, minette," Riddle said. "Lost myself there for a minute." They both glanced toward Slughorn, who seemed unfairly amused. "You really should go dry your hair, though."

"I thought you preferred it damp."

"I do. Do you want me to keep my hands out of it, or not?" He gave her a significant look.

She nodded as comprehension dawned on her. "Fair enough." They returned to Slughorn. "Sorry about that," Minerva said casually.

Slughorn mercifully didn't comment on the little display, instead reaching into his robe pockets, pulling out two invitations. "You know what these mean," he said in a sing-song voice.

Riddle ignored the outstretched invitations, instead wrapping an arm around Minerva's waist. She tensed, momentarily, but quickly relaxed against him.

"Give me one good reason to attend, and I'll...show up." He looked at Minerva. "Guest in tow."

"You don't speak for me," Minerva returned. "This isn't the nineteenth century."

"Touche. Well, Slughorn, still waiting on a reason...unless you don't have one," Riddle said fairly insolently.

Slughorn frowned, thinking. "There'll be absinthe?"

"Not good enough."

"There'll be the head of the Department of Mysteries?" Slughorn supplied. "We're friends from long back. I know how much interest you've expressed in that department, Tom."

Riddle considered. He was quite confident that he could gain something from this connection if he was careful. "Perhaps." He took the invitation. "How about it, Minerva?"

"You're so easily influenced Tom, it's not even funny anymore."

Riddle's hand, unseen by Slughorn, lightly trailed down her back. "Hypocritical of you to say that." Lightly, he reached around to her wrist and slid his hand up her arm, slowly and deliberately. He felt goosebumps erupt under his fingers. "I'm going to ask you again. I'll even say 'please.' Well? What do you say?"

"Fine," she said flatly. "No guarantees, though, in case I suddenly change my mind."

"There won't be any of that!" Slughorn said happily, giving her the invitation. "Now, why were you in Tom's r-"

"Say one word more, and I'm tearing this up."

"Fine, fine," Slughorn said laughing. "Calm down."

"Well." Riddle let go of Minerva, handing her his invitation to hold. "I'm going to go and shower now." And that he did, taking far longer than was strictly necessary, savoring the solitude as long as he could. Though he was starting to enjoy -rather than tolerate- Minerva's company, he still preferred to be left to his own devices more than anything else. It was fortunate that the object of his supposed affection was fiercely independent; it saved him the trouble of being overtly attentive. Stepping out, Riddle realized he had missed breakfast, and then found he was too lazy to do anything about it. He had intended to bypass the Great Hall entirely, and instead go straight to the Chamber, but to his dismay, he was accosted by Minerva, Lowther perched on her finger.

"You!" he exclaimed, surreptitiously reaching for his wand. "Minerva, why are you fraternizing with the enemy?"

Minerva laughed, tapping the toucan on its beak. "But he's a cutie." Riddle's eye twitched involuntarily. "Oh, darling, don't be jealous." She stepped forward to kiss him, but Riddle leaped backward.

"No! Nothing in front of that...thing," he spat, keeping his wand trained on the animal. "I told you, Lowther. I won't have you spying."

"Tom, what is the matter with you?" Minerva demanded, shielding the bird with her body. "You're acting crazy. Stop it."

"Minerva. Do you care about my sanity?"

"I- of course, but-"

"Then give me that damn bird and leave me alone." Lowther tried to fly away, but Riddle immobilized him wordlessly, turning back to Minerva and grabbing her shoulders. "Give me the bird. This has to be dealt with."

Minerva recoiled slightly, fear beginning to rise. "Tom, relax. You're not yourself right now."

"Don't make me do something to you I'll regret later, Minerva." His grip on the wand tightened. Minerva could have sworn his eyes flashed scarlet.

"That's what I'm trying to do!" Minerva was against the wall now, and denying that she was afraid was officially useless. "Tom, you're starting to scare me. Let go."

Riddle released her, forcing himself to calm down.. "The bird, ma minette." Gently, he brushed his lips to her temple as his free hand stroked her cheek. "I'm sorry if I frightened you," he whispered against her hair, rolling his eyes as he did so. Merlin, the cheese.

"Take it..." Minerva said, still unnerved despite the gesture. "Merlin, Tom, don't do that to me again!"

"I won't. In fact, I'm about to get rid of any possibility of it happening again." He looked darkly at Lowther, picking up the bird by its feet with obvious distaste.

"What are you going to do to him?" Minerva asked. "Albus won't be amused; Fawkes and Lowther are friends."

"I won't do anything unless it's absolutely necessary," Riddle said. "You have my word. Do you trust me?" He tried to convey sincerity with his eyes. He did pretty well, too.

"Of course I don't." Apparently not well enough.

"Sounds fair," he conceded nonchalantly. "I'll fix that with time." He pressed a hurried kiss to her cheek and left, pace redoubled as he headed to the Chamber entrance, Lowther swinging comically from his hand.

Minerva leaned against the hallway's stone wall, stunned and still a bit shaken. I think I see why Albus told me to be careful...

Chamber of Secrets

"Finite Incantatum," Riddle murmured. "Back up, I can't see what I'm doing with your shadow," he said to the basilisk in Parseltongue, who was watching curiously over his shoulder.

"Sorry," the beast replied, and slithered backwards. The sound of its scales sliding over the stone floor, littered with the skeletons of small rodents, made an unpleasant grating noise.

Riddle gritted his teeth at the din.

"Now Lowther," Riddle said dangerously, "I'm going to interrogate you with something more effective than torture. And if I don't like what I hear, I will have nothing more to do with you. And I'll achieve this by getting rid of our interaction in the most permanent and effective manner possible. Understand?"

The bird nodded. Riddle pulled the vial of Veritaserum from his pocket, and forcibly emptied the clear, water-like contents after forcing Lowther's beak open. Riddle was disappointed; Lowther had made no effort to resist. The bird seemed to have given up and resigned itself to its unhappy fate. It was a pity. Half the fun in operations such as these was the gradual destruction of the victim's defenses. Rather like his scheme involving Minerva... wait, how had she entered the subject at hand? She was starting to enter his thoughts a bit too often for his taste...

"Hold him," Riddle ordered the basilisk, and before long the trembling bird was ensconced between massive coils of dingy green scales. "Now. Was your ridiculous story about the... Order of Sentient Magical Beings, was it? Was that story true?"

"Yes."

"Really?" Riddle was surprised. "Do you have any rank in this organization?"

"Yes."

Again, Riddle was surprised. "...what is your rank?"

"Supreme overlord." The birds eyes were demonically glowing again; they seemed to do that when Lowther was angered. Riddle decided to ask more calculated questions.

"Are you helping Dumbledore? If not, elaborate."

Loathing in his eyes, Lowther answered. "My organization is allied with the goblins and the dementors. We tire of wizards presuming to be the sovereigns of the magical world. A rebellion is currently underway, and I hope to get information on Dumbledore through Fawkes." His expression became still more malevolent. "You aren't the concern, Riddle. Dumbledore and the one rumored to challenge his power, Lord Voldemort, are. I'm only pretending to spy on you to appease the old fool. He seems to find you a threat."

Riddle kept his face impassive at the mention of the name 'Lord Voldemort,' but he was significantly shaken. He was annoyed as well by Lowther's implication that he wasn't a threat. "And why have you taken the name Mr. Lowther? Or is that coincidence?"

The bird shrugged as best as it could, wings pinned down by several pounds of basilisk as they were. "My actual name is Gordon. I went along with Lowther because I'm a huge fan of 'The Prime of Miss Jean Brody*.' It's my private shame." It appeared to smile, despite the situation it was in. "Your girlfriend looks a lot like the lady on the cover."

Riddle didn't bother to ask how exactly the toucan learned to read, nor why a toucan from the Amazon had a name of Scottish origin, and was living in Britain. There were more important matters to focus on, such as how the toucan got its information. But there was potential here...

"Lowther -or Gordon, as the case may be- I want nothing more than to see Dumbledore taken down a notch."

"Do you now."

"Yes," Riddle said, mind racing. "But as I've proved multiple times, you're making an enemy of the wrong man. You haven't stopped your meddling, and I doubt you ever will learn. So I'll give you a reason to obey, even if you won't remember it once all this is true." Wordlessly, he cast the Cruciatus curse again, his smile twisted in the dim lighting of the Chamber. Lowther's screams had an eerie, raw, animal quality about them, something very different from the too common screams and pleas from the numerous humans who had been in his place. Riddle ended the spell and Lowther made no effort to move, lying prone on the Chamber floor, blending in with the dark rubble that surrounded him. "And here's another reminder for you," Riddle said still more softly, smile turning still more sadistic. "I am Lord Voldemort."

Lowther's eyes widened in fear as the horrible realization dawned on him, and Riddle laughed mirthlessly. "Yes, Lowther, you're messing with the wrong man. But of course, you know too much, and I can't afford you letting something slip to Dumbledore. Poor little bird," he sneered, drawing his wand again. "You really shouldn't interfere with wizard matters."

"Are you going to kill me?" Lowther gasped.

"Kill you? No, no. You may prove useful later. I'm going to modify your memory. Obliviate!" Riddle smiled cruelly as the charm's force put the bird in a dead faint. "Give him air," he told the basilisk curtly.

Lowther's speech, though alarming, had provided Riddle with valuable insight. An alliance with the goblins probably wasn't worth it, but that Order was onto something if they had allied themselves with the dementors. He would have to look into this. He could also begin an alliance with the giants in the north; he was quite certain that was unprecedented by wizardkind. He related these thoughts to the basilisk, who listened in amicable silence. "So...what do we talk about now?" the basilisk asked once Riddle had finished.

"Well… you could listen while I complain about lady problems," Riddle said with a frown.

"I'm listening."

Riddle sighed, leaning against the basilisk's coils. "You're a good friend."

Hogwarts Grounds

The soft carpet of grass was blanketed in snow, but it was no longer the pristine white sheet it had once been. It was trampled in many places, and littered with the smashed remains of snowballs from countless snowball fights. The sunlight gave the sparse patches of unmarked snow a twinkling sheen, casting an almost blinding white glow on the snowy expanse. Riddle and Minerva made a stark contrast as they walked through the snow, Minerva warmly attired, Riddle in only his shirtsleeves, heads together in conversation. Minerva's hair blew out behind here. The winter wind had made short work of unraveling her bun, and Riddle had helped it along by stealthily pulling out hairpins. By the time Minerva finally noticed, it was too late, and the rippling black expanse streamed out behind her. (A/N: Dear lord that was a prosy paragraph.)

"Aren't you cold?" Minerva asked curiously, her gloved hand through Riddle's arm.

"Not in the slightest," Riddle said. "I've developed quite an admirable cold tolerance from the days in the orphanage."

"Ah." Minerva blew a piece of hair from her eyes. "What was it like?"

"Developing cold tolerance? It sort of just happens, it isn't very noticeable-"

"No, what was it like, in the orphanage?" She realized the moment the words left her mouth how insensitive she might appear, and backtracked. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Riddle shrugged, indifferent. "No, it's all right. It was rather dull... it was fairly crowded as well. Not my choice of home, at any rate." He looked at her. "What about you?" He imitated a Scottish accent.

"Not bad at all," Minerva laughed. "Quite good, for a Londoner. Well, let me see. We're from Caithness -the outskirts of Caithness, anyway. Father was a minister, and Mother was the witch." She smiled fondly. "Apparently I would make the cat do things when I was a baby."

"Did you? I had a reputation for making animals do what I wanted without training them as well."

"Really?" She leaned against him. "Which animals, snakes?"

How did she know? Riddle wondered. "Yes, actually. Was that more stereotyping against Slytherin?"

"So what if it is?" Minerva said playfully. Her tone became serious. "I'm going to miss this."

"Miss what?" Riddle inquired. The wind blew again, and the air around him was infused with her scent. He found himself thinking citrus in summer to be an extremely pleasant fragrance.

"All the free time. Though why I enjoy spending it on an emotionally unstable, violently angry wizard I'll never know."

Again, Riddle wondered how she knew. "Kidding, Tom," Minerva said laughing. "Stop taking everything so seriously."

"I wouldn't call myself emotionally unstable," Riddle said quite seriously. "Just.. prone to violent outbursts."

"Don't worry, darling," Minerva said, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I find it intriguing... provided they aren't directed towards me." She gave him a pointed look. "Like this morning."

"Minerva, let me be honest with you." Selectively honest with you. "Lowther is not to be trifled with. I have reason to believe he's quite the dangerous toucan."

"You honestly expect me to believe that?"

Riddle feigned a hurt expression. "Why else would I get violently angry at you?"

"All right." She kissed his cheek, balancing on her tiptoes. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, ma minette. Suspicion is only natural." He paused, pensive. "I wouldn't respect you if you were naively trusting."

"Tom," Minerva said, concern creeping into her voice, "I don't mean to be... overbearing, but you didn't have breakfast, and you missed lunch. Not to mention you hardly ate yesterday. Why don't we go to Hogsmeade and get something?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Minerva."

"You're getting dark circles."

"That's from being a terrible insomniac. My thoughts keep me up." He sighed. "I sometimes feel there isn't enough time to do everything I have planned out."

"That's why you prioritize, and spend time on what's most important to you." Minerva leaned her head against his shoulder. "That's what I do."

"Oh god."

"What?" Minerva asked, offended. "This is where you pour your heart out and share in the cutesy intimacy of the moment, Tom."

"No, not that. Slughorn just took a picture from the window."

"Oh..isn't that stalking?"

Riddle frowned darkly. "He's setting himself up for a horrible New Year's party."

"Let's give him something to photograph," she said mischeviously, and before Riddle could protest, she had thrown her arms around his neck, raised herself to her toes, and kissed him, feeling his hands instantly find her waist and lift her up just a bit.

"You're really not helping keep things private, you know," Riddle whispered against her lips without breaking the kiss.

"I know." She pulled away. "I can't help it, your indifference to gossip is rubbing off on me."

"Well, let's do that again, because I certainly wasn't complaining." Riddle lifted her up again, kissing her breathlessly even as Slughorn continued to watch. He hadn't anticipated this degree of...directness with Minerva. He'd rather expected her to have a more timid approach, but as she reciprocated his attentions, he lost himself a little. Minerva pulled away again.

"You're not really going to ruin the party, aren't you?"

Riddle smiled deviously. "It's a definite possibility."

A/N: Heeeey guys. This was written for y'all today, so thank for that. Just a couple of things. The italicized dialogue in quotation marks was supposed to Parseltongue, hope y'all caught that. Also, the book "Miss Jean Brody" was written in the '60s, but this is fanfiction so I can do what I want! Just putting this in there in case anyone knows and wants to call me out for that.

Now. I'm continuing with the romance because it was well received, but I hope you appreciate it, because it's so damn hard to write! So Sachita, that was for you.

I won't update til New Years, so we'll have cute timing for the next chapter. And happy holidays everyone!