Minerva felt like a total mess ever since Beatrice had been attacked. She kept going over the incident in her mind, wondering if she might have heard something in the hall sooner that would have allowed her to catch the mysterious attacker. Perhaps if she hadn't spent so much time putting perfume and other ridiculous outfits on to look lovely for the Christmas feast, she might have intercepted the attack before it happened. She knew it was useless to blame herself, and she couldn't change the past, as Albus reminded her firmly several times, but she still felt somewhat responsible for the horrible condition Beatrice was found in. Although she attended the feast with everyone, a happy smile on her face while the cheers to a wonderful feast, she was a disaster inside. The food barely had a taste as she shoveled it in, only partially listening to the conversations around her. The students were a buzz, though she could tell several other members of the staff were on edge too. Afterward, Tom escorted her and Pomona up to the Hospital Wing so that she could stay there for the night. He would have stayed, but Albus pulled him out within ten minutes of leaving the feast. She was fairly sure the headmaster was going to ask him the same question; where had he been when Beatrice was attacked?

His alibi was spotless, unfortunately. Although she wanted to trust him, she still pulled Hagrid aside the next day and asked if he had run into Tom on the way back to the castle. He said he did, though he seemed incredibly uncomfortable about it, and it was then that she noticed the extent of his discomfort regarding anything to do with Tom Riddle. They apparently had a history, but Minerva decided long ago that it wasn't her place to ask either to divulge the details. If they really wanted to tell her, she was sure they would at some point. She thanked Hagrid kindly for the information, and then spent several of the following days in the staff room correcting exams. She was still on edge, unfortunately, so it was difficult to concentrate. In fact, she recalled going over one exam after she had marked it and realized she should have deducted at least six more points from the student's essay, changing the mark considerably in the end.

It was hard to focus when someone from her old house was in the hospital after such a horrible ordeal. Naturally, she had complete faith in Poppy. The woman worked magic with her mere fingers alone, and by the next day all of Beatrice's physical wounds had healed. When Minerva visited, she almost seemed like her usual, bubbly self. However, when she conferred with Poppy privately, the woman expressed a worry that some sort of magic had traumatized her on a deeper level. She planned to confer with the healers at St. Mungo's, and insisted Beatrice remained in the wing for the rest of the holiday. Thankfully, she allowed visitors for longer hours than usual, and Minerva grinned knowing that there would be people there to keep the girl company.

When she knew Beatrice was almost back to normal, Minerva felt a little more at ease. Tom had been shocking spectacular ever since their previous little tiff in the lavatory. He even met her one morning outside her room with a nice cup of tea, insisting he wanted her to start the day off better than her previous sullen mornings. A part of her wondered if he thought she might invite him in. It seemed inappropriate, but she thoroughly appreciated the thoughtful gesture. They did a lap around the castle together, sipping their tea and chatting about a recent Ministry scandal regarding the Minister and several of his secretary's. Tom seemed immensely pleased in the man's embarrassment, while Minerva thought all of it was a load of rubbish concocted by the newspapers to sell more stories. The way he laughed at her and kissed her temple almost felt as though he was patronizing her, and she had to firmly remind him that she had worked in the Ministry for the better part of her life, and she was well aware of the sort of man the Minister was, which meant her opinion on the matter was perfectly valid. That seemed to keep that gleam out of his eye, the one he donned sometimes when someone said something ridiculous in one of his lessons. She certainly didn't like it directed at her.

Otherwise, Tom had been an absolute gentleman. As promised, it seemed he wasn't interested in her for intimate relations. Well. He might be. Actually, he probably was, but as they spent quite some time together doing anything but touching one another physically, Minerva came to realize that he might just enjoy her company. Anything beyond that would be a bonus, she decided. It felt so strange being this familiar with him, considering she spent most of the term trying to oust him and whatever ridiculous plan he seemed to be unfurling. However, the more time she spent with him, the more she started to think she and Albus were too quick to judge the man. He seemed focused on getting his exams marked, held the duelling club for students who wanted to attend during the holidays, and found time to bring her tea in the morning. He certainly wasn't the man she expected. Although he was full of surprises, Minerva still had a bit of a wall up. She kept deeply personal information to herself, like her family background and her private estate in Scotland. They had talked about a number of issues over the days between Christmas and New Years Eve, but she was still sure to keep some things private, and she was sure he had done the same. There was a small trust growing between them, but she still knew neither was one hundred percent accepting of the other on all levels.

Now, New Years wasn't actually a holiday that Minerva really cared too much about. She understood the symbolic associations it carried, and it was always a good way to start things fresh with whatever had bothered her over the course of the year. Otherwise, she really didn't see the need for people to rush out and drink to their heart's desire, and do foolish things… In all honesty, to Minerva it was simply another night. When the next day arrived, it would be 1958 rather than 1957, and everything would be the exact same as it always was. She knew the rest of the staff were going to use it as one last hurrah before the students returned. After all, it was only four more days until the term started fresh, and she was sure no one was ready to give up their hard-earned freedom after only two weeks. But, alas, they all knew the end was near, and they were going to use any chance they got to celebrate like a bunch of loons. Minerva decided she didn't want to drink to the point of excess like she had the first night she kissed Tom. Instead, she would have one glass of champagne, as Slughorn had boasted about ordering it in specially for the night, and then off to bed at a reasonable hour.

That morning, Tom had suggested ringing in the New Year in the Astronomy tower. It would be the best place to watch the fireworks Albus had prepared, and Minerva suspected he was looking for a little privacy. Well, if he had wanted that, he certainly shouldn't have said it in front of Pomona. Seconds later she had spread the word through the staff table, and everyone was abuzz with the thought of turning the classroom into a wonderful party room. Sinistra seemed slightly put off, another young professor only a few years her senior, but she eventually agreed to donate her room for the festivities. Tom had seemed momentarily put off with his plans spoiled, but he bounced back quickly, and offered to meet her at the base of the tower that night around half passed eleven so they could at least walk there alone. Meanwhile, Pomona suggested they get ready together and help one another select outfits for the night. Minerva was less than keen on the idea, and she had a sinking suspicion that her friend was on to her secret relations with Tom, but she eventually gave in and decided they could meet at eleven to get ready, but then arrive separately sometime at the tower around quarter to midnight. It wasn't as if she didn't want to spend time with the woman, but Tom had asked her first, in all fairness. Therefore, she owed it to him to follow through on their plans.

She spent most of the day marking exams. It was such a hassle, but after many long days of reading essays thoroughly, and checking back over some of the ones she had done under her Beatrice-funk, Minerva was almost at an end. Soon there would be more to mark as the first round of assignments for the new year went out, but she wanted to have a few days of nothing before the term started again. So, she toiled endlessly, it seemed, and by the time dinner rolled around, she was nearly finished. A quick bite to eat, a few more essays, and Minerva gasped when she realized it was almost eleven. Abandoning her scattered papers for now, she set about discarding her clothing and slipping into a house coat. Pomona ought to arrive sometime soon, and they were going to pick through Minerva's wardrobe to find something suitable for the party that evening, apparently. It seemed that her friend was hell-bent on getting her out of her usual clothing, even though Minerva thought there was nothing wrong with the usual garments. Besides, it wasn't as though Pomona was rolling in the latest fashions from London. Sure, she dressed up noticeably for parties and staff events, but otherwise her professional and causal wardrobe was fairly similar to her own. Pah.

Sweeping a piece of hair behind her ear, she studied her closet carefully in an attempt to scout out the dresses that would have Pomona's approval in advance. However, a light knock at her door drew her away. Gus stirred somewhat from his seemingly permanent position at the foot of her bed, but settled back down as she walked by him, the tips of her fingers lightly brushing his ear as she went. She leaned heavily against the door before pulling it open, fully expecting to see Pomona standing outside with some obscure bottle of wine. However, she ended up face to face with Tom instead, smiling handsomely at her in his well-coiffed suit.

"Tom," she gasped, hiding herself behind the door just a touch to keep him from poking fun at yet another flannel housecoat. "Weren't we meeting by the tower?"

In a half an hour. Like they had planned.

"I thought I might drop by and surprise you," he replied with a grin. "Apparently I've come too soon."

"Oh, well… Yes, I was just getting ready-"

"Why don't I help?"

"That's really not… necessary or… proper," she stammered as he invited himself in. "Tom!"

He slipped passed her with a smirk on his lips, and she let out an exasperated sigh as she shut the door. There was no way she could kick him out, mostly because she was sure he wouldn't go without some sort of a fight, and there probably wasn't time for it anyway. Although she was less than comfortable with him in her private chambers, she was fairly certain that he wasn't about to try to initiate something inappropriate. She was hardly put off by the fact that he had seen her in what she considered "private" clothing. After all, people seldom looked attractive in their robes for teaching, so she wasn't about to bemoan over the fact that Tom had now seen her in ordinary, plain robes as opposed to something glamorous. She was many things, but vanity never held a pointlessly high place in her persona. It was there, and it slowly grew whenever a man like Tom eyed her appreciatively, but that was so seldom that she barely paid any mind to it.

"I had a sinking suspicion all our rooms looked the same," she heard Tom mutter as she stepped out of her thin hallway and into her main quarters. He seemed to be giving her room a once over, neither impressed or put off by it, and finally shrugged.

"It's only fair, is it not?" Minerva inquired, "Why should some of us get larger rooms?"

"I always assumed seniority warranted something," he replied, staring down at Gus. The feline was now on his feet, tail flicking side to side irritably. Without another word, Tom reached out, almost as if to stroke him, but Gus tore off into the lavatory soundlessly. Minerva frowned. It was a fairly strange reaction for her typically mellow cat, but she shrugged it off. Despite his loving disposition of Minerva, Gus was usually coolly aloof to visitors, aside from Dumbledore, and it made sense that he wouldn't want to be touched by a stranger.

"He's shy," she mused as she returned to her closet, attempting to keep her composure. She certainly didn't want him to think that his invasion of her personal space made her feel on edge, despite the fact it did. "Now, I don't know what you're expecting, but-"

"Oh, calm down, Minerva," he sighed noisily as he leaned back against her bedpost, arms crossed. "I thought this was going to be a pleasant surprise, not one that would put you in a sour mood."

"I'm not in a sour mood," she snapped as she flicked through her dresses. "You've just spoiled my plans, that's all. Pomona will be here soon-"

"I wouldn't count on that."

"Oh?"

"Spotted her and Horace strolling along into his office when I left dinner this evening," Tom informed her. She glanced back over her shoulder and noticed he was picking at his nails, apparently bored, "I suspect she'll be preoccupied with him until they show up drunk to the Astronomy tower."

She pursed her lips, not wishing to think of her friend doing such a thing, but half-heartedly agreed with his prediction. Those two had certainly amped up their relations over the holidays, from what she had heard from the gossip pool – heard, not participated in, mind you – and she couldn't blame Pomona for wanting to spend her last few days of freedom with her man.

"I suppose you'll have to help me find something suitable to wear," Minerva replied after a few moments of silence. "That was her job tonight, but I suppose you'll do."

"Oh, how kind of you," he purred as he joined her in front of the closet, a hand on the small of her back. "You know, I've never had a problem with your fashion choices… Aside from… well, this."

He pinched at the fabric on her shoulders, looking down distastefully at her flannel, and she swatted his hand away. It earned her a bit of a chuckle, "It's just so horribly unattractive, Minerva."

"But warm," she countered defensively, "and appropriate should I ever be called out of bed for something official."

He rolled his eyes, "How often has that happened?"

"I'm always prepared, Riddle," she remarked curtly, flashing him a bit of a cheeky grin as she pulled out a flattering blue gown her mother bought her last winter. Before she could ask him what he thought, he placed his lips next to her ear, breath tickling her as he spoke.

"Don't you have something better than that?" he whispered, "You are always so cumbersome in your dresses, Minerva."

She frowned, "Cumbersome?"

"So much material," he clarified. "You make it terribly difficult for any man to want to take on the challenge of peeling it all off."

"Tom!" she gasped, looking back at him, eyes wide and scandalized, "Don't say things like that!"

"Why not?" he laughed, cupping the tip of her chin firmly before nudging in front of her, rummaging through her dresses himself, "I'm sure you know that thought has passed through my mind… more than once."

Her cheeks tinted and she looked away, a hand pressed against them to will them back to normal, "It's inappropriate."

"Even in private?" he asked, pausing at something, "There aren't any students hidden behind all these dresses, are there? Dumbledore isn't living under the bed?"

"Tom," she chided, a little exasperated with his tormenting. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm hardly the one being ridiculous," he insisted as he pulled a garment out, "just honest."

Minerva laughed loudly, a little more so than she intended, and he looked back at her, an eyebrow cocked. She couldn't quite explain the sheer irony of his honesty without upsetting him, so she merely turned away to set her choice to the evening on the bed.

"I like this," he said finally. Minerva turned back around, and then rolled her eyes. He had rummaged through her wardrobe and found the one winter dress she actually disliked. It was black, fitted, and went to her knees. The sleeves were full-length and came to a point at her middle finger, and it had the dreaded square-neck styling that seemed to be in fashion. A cousin of hers worked at a retail store in Dublin and had the audacity to send it to her this Christmas with a bit of a joke written in the card. It was so completely opposite to her fashion that, apparently, it seemed hilarious to give it to her.

"No," Minerva said firmly, shaking her head. "Put that back."

"Oh, come now," he chuckled, holding it up against her with a critical eye. "If you're going to be coming to the party on my arm, I think you should look as ravishing as possible."

"I think your expectations for tonight as a little high," she droned, swatting the dress away. "By the time we get there, I predict half of them will already be drunk, and the other half will be fighting each other for the best possible seat in the tower to the watch the fireworks."

He opened his mouth to fire back what would no doubt be some witty retort, but she held up her finger, "Also, I'm not going on your arm. We're going in together as… friends and colleagues."

"Is that what we are?"

"I don't really want to have this discussion again," she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. "We already talked about our behaviour in public-"

"Have I given you any reason to suspect I will behave poorly?" he asked coolly, the mirth slowly leaving his eyes.

"Honestly?" she droned, arching an eyebrow at him. She wanted to call him on some slightly ridiculous, though irrelevant, behaviour from the term, but she decided against it, "No, I suppose not."

"Good. Now, put the dress on."

"No, I don't like it," she argued. "I'm just going to wear the first one."

"No," Tom said suddenly, stepping between her and the bed. He shoved the dress into her arms, and then turned her around forcefully toward the bathroom, "I'm filling in for Pomona, and you know she'll be so displeased with me if you turn up looking as you normally do-"

"But she doesn't even know you're helping me-"

"So, you will put it on and when we've had a proper look at it, we can decide that you're going to wear it," he informed her as he walked her masterfully across the room and gave her a nudge into her bathroom. The lights flickered on just as he shut the door, and she glared at it for a moment. She wanted to be bitter and march right back out there, throw the dress in his face, and then send him on his way. Who did he think he was? He couldn't order her around in her own room!

This was ridiculous.

However, she knew she couldn't win an argument like this with Tom Riddle by throwing a hissy fit. He would call her out on it, and then look horribly superior. If she wanted to win, she had to prove that he was incorrect. So, she stripped out of her housecoat and pulling the dress on over her head, loosening her bun in the process. Once on, she kicked her housecoat the side and stood in front of her mirror, scrutinizing herself. It certainly showed off more of her figure than usual, but she still wasn't a fan, and she was going to need a pair of stockings to cover her pale, bare legs. Smoothing her hand over her slim stomach, she made a face in the mirror, still put off. This was surely going to persuade him. Giving Gus a bit of a look, shaking her head at his current location behind her toilet, she opened the door and stepped back in her bedroom, hearing a drawer shut and spotting Tom standing beside her bedside table.

"Were you going through my things?" she demanded.

"Yes," he remarked, hands folded together neatly in front of him. "Are you surprised?"

The question took her off guard, and she faltered for a moment before gathering her bearings, "No, not really."

"As I expected," he grinned, eyes wandering over her body. "You look lovely, by the way. Very modern."

"I don't like it," she insisted. "It's not appropriate for Hogwarts."

"Well, we'll have to get some stockings to cover those little legs of yours," Tom mused as he looked her over thoughtfully, "and we'll get your hair down."

"You aren't in charge of the way I look," she fired back, shifting her weight uncomfortably between legs as he took a few steps toward her, closing the space between him. "I'm going to wear the other one."

He cupped her cheek suddenly, sliding his hand back along her neck and into her hair, "I suppose you could… I'll just have to spend the rest of the night picturing how you look right now. You really do look… ravishing."

"Ravishing?" Minerva snorted, rolling her eyes a little. "Come now, Tom, don't use words you don't mean."

"I'll say whatever I please," he whispered, his grip tightening on her a little as he leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Wear this one for me. We may only be standing next to each other tonight, but I'd like every man here to be jealous."

She swallowed thickly, unable to push him away as her body prickled at his closeness, "I don't… think they'll be jealous."

"You really should give yourself more credit," he told her as he pulled away. "Your intelligence isn't the only thing that makes me desire you."

She flushed again and looked up at him, trying to decide if his compliment was genuine, or he just had an innate desire to win by getting her into that dress.

"Why don't you do your hair and I'll find you some stockings?" he asked, sauntering toward her drawers innocently. Her stockings were in the drawer with all of her other unmentionables, so she quickly hurried across the room and grabbed his hand.

"Why don't you just sit on the bed and I'll finish getting ready?" she suggested instead, making him smirk triumphantly. She didn't particularly want to wear the damn dress, but she also knew he wasn't going to let it go until she gave in, and it was already almost half past eleven. If he said she looked presentable, then she had no reason to not believe him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

ARGH. I wanted this to be a two-parter, but looks like News Years will have to continue into a third part in the next chapter. I'm just about to start exams… tomorrow, in fact, and can't devote as much time to writing as I would like. I also can't force myself to stay up super late if I want to be functional to study. SO. I apologize, but to make up for it, the third and final instalment for this "chapter" will be a combination of both Voldemort and Minerva's points of view. And someone is going to get a bit handsy, but no telling who! So. Get excited!

Hearing Tom say 'ravishing' in my head makes me all giddy, but also for the LULZ because snake!Voldemort would probably have tea with Dumbles before he calls someone ravishing. Yeay for pre-snake versions of dashing!Tom.