It seemed the moment October turned into November, the weather decided to just give up. The first week of the second last month of the year was just dreadful. The air was frigid, yet not chilly enough to fully freeze the rain that pelted down from the sky. Therefore, they were stuck in some strange weather limbo at Hogwarts. It wasn't quite winter yet, but it was no longer fall. In Minerva's opinion, the weather was simply dreadful. It made the Great Hall look miserable, as Albus wasn't one to change the enchanted ceiling back, and it was useless weather for Quidditch. She dragged herself to one practice that week, but as the players were nearly knocked out of the air by chunks of ice, she was forced to end it early for their own safety. None of them had brought goggles, and she wasn't about to have them lose an eye on their watch. Some of the team protested, but Roger Wood was quick to put them in their place. She was a professor, after all. Mind you, they probably stopped seeing her as a professor when she stepped onto the pitch with them. Minerva dressed in her old Quidditch uniform, shouted directions like Wood, and made mistakes just like the rest of them. Like the weather, Minerva was stuck in a Quidditch limbo too. Not quite a part of the team, but still not a professor. It wasn't a position she was comfortable in, but she made do for now.

Finally, the dreaded exam period in October had come to an end. Minerva slacked on her Tom Riddle assignment with Dumbledore's blessing in order to get everything graded and back to her students in a timely fashion. She was still a little behind on the homework corrections, but now that she wasn't stuck grading essay exams, she knew she would have the appropriate amount of time to get everything done. All in all, her students did adequately enough on her exams. Some struggled terribly, but most were students who hadn't signed on to continue with Transfigurations after their fifth year. At that point, she knew they wouldn't be back for a following year of torture. She learned last year that those who weren't good at Transfigurations, or had no desire to be good at it, simply needed to get the appropriate amount of information to pass their examinations at the end of the year, and the be done with it. Minerva may have been tough on her students, but she respected those who knew what they wanted to do after school. If her lessons had nothing to do with their interests, then it made perfect sense to her why their effort was less in them. After all, she thought Divination was an absolute waste of space and time, and put the minimal effort into it during school in order to get a passing grade and be done with it. She wasn't about empathizing with her students, so long as they weren't blowing off her coursework.

Tom Riddle remained more of the same as the week carried on. She felt a little uncomfortable monitoring him after the Halloween dance. It had been a success in that no one spiked the punch, all students were in bed by midnight, and it only took a half an hour to clean up once they were gone. Minerva spent most of the night dancing with Tom Riddle, who kept asking her to show him different steps whenever the style of music changed. She didn't know many, but by the end they were dancing with Slughorn and Pomona, who were much more skilled dancers and taught the younger couple a few older moves. It was actually a pleasant time. Tom was a little sarcastic, but it was nothing Minerva couldn't handle. When the night came to a close, he offered to walk her back to her room, but she told him she was going to do an hour's worth of grading in her office before bed. It was a bit of a lie, as she walked back to her room by herself to snuggle with Gus and a good book. Well, it was a downright lie. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she didn't want Tom walking her anywhere. She wasn't particularly sure what he would expect when they finally got to her room. Minerva wasn't about to invite him in, and because she had little to no trust in him, she wasn't sure how he would react to a dismissal.

Otherwise, the week passed without a hitch. Minerva found herself a little bored in Tom's lessons now, mostly because he had behaved like a perfect professor would. He corrected assignments quickly, admonished bad behaviour, and even eased off on his previous blatant prejudice toward Slytherin students. All in all, Tom Riddle was shaping up into a fine professor. Minerva expressed her findings to Dumbledore on the Friday night of that week in hopes that he might take her off this ridiculous venture. However, while he was pleased that she was back to watching him, Albus informed her that she had to stick with this schedule until at least the Christmas holidays. Apparently, Tom was a man who knew how to behave for authority. According to Dumbledore, he was adept at putting on any act that individual wanted to see. Eventually, he grew tired of it, and his true colours would appear. If he knew so much about Riddle, Minerva almost asked why he didn't monitor the class and spare her the time. Naturally, Minerva already knew the answer to that. Albus was too busy and certainly too important, genuinely, around the castle and in the school's affairs to sit in once or twice a day to watch Tom Riddle. She couldn't attend all of his lectures, but they both figured the number of times she visited during the week – somewhere between five and ten times – would be enough to keep Tom on his toes and in line. So far, she thought they succeeded.

Now, there were other events at Hogwarts aside from mandatory classroom time, Tom Riddle and Quidditch. Hogsmeade weekend ventures were in full swing, and Minerva had the glorious task of approving everyone's permission slips back in late September. There were still a few stragglers who had a little trouble convincing their parents to let them go, and occasionally a student would appear in her office with one freshly signed. She had to ensure it wasn't a forgery, and then add their name to the roster of students allowed to visit the village on weekends. When she had the time, Minerva generally marched down to the village with whoever on staff was attending, either for fun or as a supervisor, and joined them for a nice warm drink at the Three Broomsticks. It was always nice to relax for an hour or two, with or without company. Sometimes she brought a good book, usually fiction, and sat in the corner, a warm cup of tea and a biscuit to nibble on and let the afternoon roll by. Of course, that wasn't something she let happen often, but she learned last year that it was necessary to have personal days in such a strenuous profession. If one didn't, they'd go mad.

That kind of day was exactly what Minerva had in mind. She borrowed a fiction from the library, gathered up some papers to grade when she started to feel guilty and bundled up for her trip down to the cosy little village. Pomona planned to drop by their usual pub for dinner, so she had the majority of the afternoon to herself. Normally they couldn't justify spending money on food when they had a regular gourmet meal daily, but sometimes they needed to eat elsewhere. Until Pomona arrived, Minerva had every intention of hiding herself away in some comfortable corner with her book and her assignments, and give anyone a hard enough look should they try to engage her in conversation. Not that she wasn't normally friendly, but she wanted time with her book, damn it.

She smiled kindly at students as she passed them in groups. Some were already on their way back, seemingly sick of the miserable weather before the afternoon was out. It had startled to drizzle halfway to Hogsmeade, but Minerva wasn't about to go back. She transfigured a book into an umbrella and trekked onward, gritting her teeth against the cold. All she had to do was think of the glorious cup of tea that awaited her, and her usual private corner with the comfortable armchair. All in all, the trip down to the village would be worth it.

"Professor!"

Minerva paused and looked over the shoulder. She could tell it was Roger Wood long before he came into focus, and she finally spotted him nudging his way through a group of girls with massive umbrellas.

"Hello, Wood," she greeted with a friendly grin, holding her black umbrella over his head to spare him from the rain. "What are you doing in this weather without some sort of protection?"

"I thought I could outrun it, to be honest," he admitted with an impish shrug. "Sort of wish I brought my umbrella with me."

"Are you on your way to the village?"

"Yeah, meeting up with some friends at the pub for tea," Roger replied. His eyes flickered upward only slightly at the umbrella, and Minerva realized that she couldn't send him off on his way when they were both going the same direction. She wasn't particularly comfortable with how close he was standing, but that couldn't exactly be helped in the given situation.

"Perhaps next time you could think of a particular charm to get you out of the situation," Minerva sighed, rolling her eyes a little, "but for now, you can share my umbrella."

"Thanks, professor," he grinned, brushing some water droplets off his cheeks. "I'd probably be sick by the time I got to the village if I kept on like this."

"Really, Wood, so inconsiderate for yourself," she mused, shooting him a bit of a scolding look before returning the grin. He was a good boy, this Roger Wood. Certainly too young for her, but a good boy regardless who knew how to be polite to just about everyone. Young men of his calibre were dwindling, in her opinion, and she feared for the future.

"So," Wood started, shoving his bare hands into his pockets, "any big plans for the weekend?"

"I beg your pardon?" she said quickly, a little thrown by the personal nature of the question. He shrugged again.

"I dunno, what do professors do for fun when the weekend hits?"

"We don't do fun, Wood," she remarked briskly. "We do our jobs… It's a seven day a week career."

"Oh, come on," he chuckled. "I'm sure you do something for fun sometimes."

"Well…" she started cautiously, "There's Quidditch-"

"Doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"It's associated with school," he informed her. "What do you do that's not related to academics and mandatory volunteer hours with us?"

"It's not… It's not a mandatory thing," Minerva argued, tightening her grip on the umbrella as the wind picked up. "I coach Quidditch with you because I like it."

"Oh. Well, I like it too."

Minerva cringed a little when his tone softened, and was quick to change the subject, "Otherwise, I like to find a nice quiet corner somewhere and get into a really good book. That is my plan for the day… Some quiet time with a book."

"Sounds great… Maybe I'll pull up a chair and do some homework with you," he suggested as they finally entered the village, marching past The Hog's Head and into the heart of it. She said nothing at the suggestion, mostly because she found herself distracted by someone else.

Her mind was so used to looking for Tom Riddle that it wasn't difficult to spot him, even in the rain. He was standing with another man under an awning in front of a plant store. They stood close together, and Tom seemed irritated with his companion. Dumbledore told her early in the year that Tom wasn't allowed to have visitors near the students, but he was vague on his reasoning. Perhaps he associated with the wrong sort of crowd outside Hogwarts, a notion that wasn't altogether surprising. Minerva wasn't about to question Albus either, so when she saw Tom associating with a man who wasn't from the village, nor did he belong to any department of the Hogwarts staff, she knew it was something to question.

"He's a bit of a funny one, eh?"

"Sorry?" Minerva asked, shaking her head a little as she watched the stranger give Tom Riddle a file folder, which he slipped inside his cloak, "Did you say something?"

"Riddle," Wood repeated, nodding at the man, "I think he's a bit off."

"I happen to agree with you," Minerva muttered, glancing over her shoulder to ensure there were no groups of students lurking nearby. She then turned to face Wood and looked pointedly at the Three Broomsticks, "I remember that I need to ask him something… Why don't you run along?"

"Is everything all right?"

"Fine, Wood," she snapped. "Have a nice afternoon."

It was dismissive and curt enough to get her point across. She wasn't in the mood for any other conversation, especially when she saw Riddle spot her, and then disappear into a small alley between the two buildings with his strange companion. Pursing her lips, she left Wood without a farewell. It had to be clear that something else caught her attention. She saw his vague outline in the window reflection as she marched away. The boy stood still for a moment or so, and then turned away painfully slow and strolled toward the pub, glancing at her once or twice over her shoulder. Rain and sleet pelted at her thin umbrella as she rushed down the alleyway. Perhaps this was the moment where she could finally catch him in the act! Something shady had to be in that file folder; otherwise Riddle would have had it sent to the school via regular post. What didn't he want everyone else to see? She was always sure he was up to something, but this could turn into her moment to finally put a good dent into that mystery.

Minerva stumbled a little when her shoe slipped. The puddles were so deep and frigid at this point that her shoes were completely soaked, right through to her actual skin. She quickly rounded a corner and found herself in the back area of all the buildings. A small fence stood between her and an open field of nothingness. The tree line started perhaps a few hundred meters out, but otherwise there was nothing else of interest out there. Smoke swirled from the chimneys of the buildings behind her, and she marched along the row quickly, examining nooks and crannies in the buildings themselves. Had he apparated away? That was something he wasn't allowed to do either. She knew he could only leave the grounds with permission from Albus. If he left now, he was breaking his contract, and would have to be removed from his position at Hogwarts. Was he willing to risk that just because she spotted him doing some crooked dealings? Maybe. Minerva fumbled for her wand awkwardly, her umbrella knocking about. The rain slowly became so heavy that it was a little difficult to see much of anything. The wind beat at her lean frame feverishly, as though she had transgressed against it somehow, and she struggled to keep her footing.

"Homenum Revelio," Minerva hissed, hoping to draw Tom out of his hiding place. However, when no human came charging out of the shadows, she frowned. Had he managed to evade her that well? He might have been smart, but his companion seemed a little slow, judging by his previous irritation.

Finally, the wind managed to get the best of her and tore her umbrella right from her hand. She gasped a little in shock at the temperature of the rain that now hammered down on her exposed head. Everything was soaking wet. Her shoulder bag with all her papers probably suffered the most, as she hadn't thought to cast any sort of protection over it before she set out. Hopefully the assignments were all right. It was too thick with rain and sleet for her to see her umbrella, and she summoned it with a flick of her wand. It came zooming back to her, as it should, but she groaned loudly when she saw the wind managed to break it in the process. Considering this had once been her beloved fictional book, she realized it would take a lot more than a few quick spells to fix everything, dry it out, and turn it back into something readable for the afternoon. It was at that point she decided to give up on her search temporarily in order to dry off. Once she had herself sorted, Minerva would head out again and search the village for Tom and his little friend.

She managed to navigate her way back to the heart of the village, and eventually got into the Three Broomsticks without any further damage. Stepping into the small doorway, she could hear it was abuzz with students, and would probably have to find a seat in the upper levels if she wanted any quiet. Shaking out her broken umbrella, Minerva stepped into the pub, her eyes fixed on the umbrella. It seemed more damaged than she anticipated. This was a disaster and a half.

With her attention fixed on her umbrella, she wasn't watching where she was going, and ended up walking smack into someone making a beeline for the second floor of the establishment. They actually collided so hard that she felt a drink spilled on her. It wasn't scalding, thankfully, and she was soaked enough for it not to make a difference, but someone still needed to suffer for their lack of care. She couldn't be to blame; clearly she was distracted.

"My, you're a mess."

Minerva's head snapped up from her newly butterbeer drenched front to glare daggers at Tom Riddle. Her irritation hid her bewilderment. How on Earth did he manage to get in here and order a drink? Had she really been gone that long?

"That's not much of an apology, Riddle, but I suppose I'll take it," she snapped softly, brushing off some foam. "You've got some explaining to do."

"Really, Minerva," he groaned, rolling his eyes a little, "I honestly didn't see you. I just wanted to grab a seat upstairs before the students migrated there too."

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it," Minerva whispered heatedly. She opened her mouth, ready to challenge him right then and there, but she was interrupted by another familiar voice.

"Professor, are you all right?"

"Fine, Wood," Minerva said quickly, her cheeks tinting when she saw Tom smirk smugly. More than a few students had paused their conversations to look at the tense interactions of their professors, and Minerva really wished they could just keep their focus on their own drama.

"Why don't you go upstairs and I'll order us something to drink?" Tom suggested, "Tea? Two sugars and milk?"

"I… What… No," Minerva managed, a little stunned that he knew her order. However, he was already gone back toward the bar. Conversations around her resumed now that the situation had diffused, and she glared at his back.

"What happened to your umbrella?" Roger inquired, ignoring the dismissiveness of her previous tone. She sighed noisily.

"The elements did," she told him. "Excuse me."

A part of her wanted to follow Riddle to the bar, grab him by the ear, and drag him outside where they could have a proper conversation. However, he was too quick, and it seemed only seconds later he sauntered back over to her with a tea in one hand and a new butterbeer in the other.

"Sweet of you to wait for me," he told her, not pausing in stride as he continued toward the thick staircase. "Come on, Minerva."

She ignored the look Roger gave her and hastily scurried up after him, hating the way her drenched skirts stuck to her legs. It was almost impossible to walk without looking like an idiot in this outfit. As she suspected, the upstairs was empty. Most students weren't even aware it existed, as they were usually ushered down by the bartender whenever they set foot on the stairs. Usually, during the school year, it was reserved for adults in an attempt to give them somewhere quieter to enjoy their drink. Tom set their drinks down on a random table and she marched after him.

"He's got such a little crush on you."

"I beg your pardon?" she snapped as she dumped her belongings on a nearby table. He arched an eyebrow and she quickly took off her thick, soaking cloak and set it down next to her bag.

"Roger Wood, your Quidditch friend," he sneered. "You can't imagine how many times I've caught him looking at you when you monitor my class… It's some feat, seeing as you sit nearly four rows behind him."

"Don't be absurd," Minerva scoffed as she began drying her belongings, running her wand along them until they were back to their pre-rain state. Once that was accomplished, she quickly dried herself off, sighing a little when her undergarments and skirts no longer stuck uncomfortably to her skin.

"What, you don't think a student can fancy a professor?" Riddle challenged, grasping the little round tray her tea rested on and pushing it across the table to her. "You can't be that naïve."

"I am hardly naïve," she remarked stiffly, "but it's not something I wish to discuss with you."

"Come now, we're colleagues," he argued. "Maybe even a few steps closer toward friendship-"

"That involves a higher degree of trust than I have with you," Minerva reminded him plainly. "Now, what I wanted to discuss… Who was the man you were with earlier?"

"Always straight to the point," Tom chuckled as she sat on the bench across from him, not touching the tea he purchased for her. "How do you know I was with anyone?"

"I saw you."

"And you are sure it was me?"

"I know what you look like, Riddle."

"Been paying extra close attention then?"

"Stop trying to avoid giving me an answer," she ordered, her eyes narrowing. "I saw you with a man and he gave you a file. Who was he, and what was in that folder? You know as a stipulation of your contract with Albus-"

"Minerva, honestly," Tom groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in what she perceived as exasperation. "You need to give it a rest… I met up with an old school friend who I haven't seen in years for lunch today."

"Where did you run off to behind the florist?" she demanded. He had seemed to be in a pretty big hurry to get out of there once she spotted him.

"I showed him to a good apparation point, and then he left. I came back here before the rain became too much. Clearly you did not share my good sense."

"And the folder?"

"What folder?"

"The one your friend gave you."

"He didn't give me a folder," Tom replied, opening his cloak for her to look. She saw no pockets, and no protruding sheets of paper. "You must have been seeing things."

"Anything can be hidden with magic."

"Would you like to do a thorough search, just to be sure?" he asked, taking a quick sip of his drink before standing up. "I'll give you full permission… Look anywhere you like."

Minerva stared at him for a moment, debating whether or not to actually perform a magic or physical search on the man. Her debate was quickly over; it would be highly inappropriate to do either. Regardless of her suspicions, he was a colleague, and she had to give him a little bit of respect. A magical search of his person would be highly intrusive. Perhaps necessary, but Minerva would never allow someone to do that to her, regardless of whether she was hiding something or not. As far as a physical search… Well, she wasn't about to do that, either. Minerva was a lady, after all.

"Really, this paranoia regarding me needs to stop," Tom insisted as he sat back down, no doubt taking her silence as a rejection of his offer. "What have I done to warrant it?"

"More than enough," she replied frankly. "Need I bring up various incidents where I've caught you in Myrtle's lavatory?"

"I have a perfectly legitimate reason for being in there and you know it."

"Hardly."

"Honest and true," Tom started, sliding around the corner of the table so that he was closer to her, "I've been nothing but a good professor since we started. No complaints from anyone but you. Doesn't that say something?"

"Maybe no one knows you like I do," she reasoned, slightly uncomfortable with the look in his eye. As usual, everything on his face appeared friendly, but his eyes were distinctly cold. They were the real reason she couldn't trust him. He ought to look the same everywhere.

"Oh, I don't think you know me at all," he murmured, holding her gaze as defiantly as she glared back.

"Tell me what I'm missing then," Minerva urged. She then smirked a little, and spat, "Don't you want to be friends?"

"I want…" he trailed off, and then suddenly snatched her wand away off the table before she could stop him, "for you to stop being so tense around me. Really, I haven't done anything to you personally that would warrant this kind of suspicion."

"Give me back my wand," Minerva demanded, slightly baffled by the irony of his statement. She reached out to snatch it back, but he caught her by the wrist, his long, slim fingers wrapping around it firmly.

"Only if you promise to put it away," he told her as he held it an arm's length away. "Do you promise, Minerva?"

"Don't speak to me like I'm a child-"

"I could hang onto it then-"

"Fine," she all but shouted, "I promise."

"I just want us to have a conversation where we're on equal terms," he insisted, handing it back to her after he let her go. She wanted to ram it into his face and demand the truth out of him, but she decided in the end to make good on her promise. She tossed it on the table behind them, on top of her discarded cloak, and arched an eyebrow at him.

"See? Nothing's happened."

"You're impossible," she sighed without meaning to. Honestly, he was like a little boy. Worse than some of her first years, she decided, but too skilled not to be taken seriously.

"I'd like to think so."

"Do you enjoy infuriating people?"

"Not everyone," he replied. "I think you're an exception."

"Excuse me?"

"Drink your tea, Minerva, or it'll get cold."

"Look, Riddle-"

"Just drink your tea."

She pursed her lips, and then grabbed her delicate cup. Minerva wasn't about to just do whatever he wanted her to do, but if he was going to fixate on her tea, she figured it was a way to appease him and make life easier on herself.

"How is it?" he asked as she took a sip. Aside from it being a little on the sweet side, she decided it was just as good as the tea she would make for herself at the castle.

"A little sweet-"

"The bartender put in three cubes instead of two," Tom told her, rolling his eyes, "but I've seen you drink it like that before, so I figured it would be fine."

Minerva stared at him blankly, running over the amount of times they had eaten together, and how he could possibly know that much about her tea drinking habits. Was he watching her more closely than she thought?

"How do you-"

"What's in your bag?" he demanded, cutting her off noisily as he nodded toward her discarded.

"Assignments."

"Oh, I've brought some with me too," he said suddenly. Tom stood and stepped over the bench, "I've left them downstairs. You've just reminded me… We can do some grading together."

"But I…"

She trailed off as he walked back towards the stairs and disappeared. Honestly, this man was probably the most confusing one she had ever met! What was his angle? Despite the fact she had seen something worthwhile today, she was no closer to actually figuring anything out that would be worthwhile to Albus. This was going to be a very long term.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

LOL WUT. I love Tom being all, "What have I done to make you hate meeee?" Such a little jerk.

OMG WHAT IS IN THE FOLDER? Right now, I don't think Minerva will actually find out. You'll discover it in the next Voldemort POV chapter, but for now I'll leave it up to you to decide.

Sorry for the long stretch between updates. I'm back in uni now that the term has started, and it's hard to update as frequently as before while I'm in school, working, book writing, and updating other stories. I will TRY my hardest to keep up a weekly thing for this story, particularly since the muse is so strong.

I felt Tom was marginally OOC in this chapter. Maybe just a little… maybe not OOC, but clearly playing with different parts of his personality. I tried to bring him back, but this was the way it flowed. Hope you enjoyed! Longest chapter so far!