Voldemort woke with a start when he felt Minerva bolt out of her bed, knocking him a little in the process. He kept his eyes closed as she rustled about, and then the lavatory door slammed shut. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair and sat up a little, squinting at the small clock on the nightstand across from him. It was only nine in the morning… on a Saturday. Was she insane? He was all for rising at a reasonable hour, but on the weekends he usually liked to sleep in until at least ten or eleven. Mind you, he had been up about an hour ago to use the facilities. Her bloody cat was still skulking around behind the toilet when he stumbled in groggily. The creature hissed at him and bolted out of the room. From what he assumed, the thing was now hiding under the bed after his initial hiding spot had been spoiled. Stupid creature. After relieving himself, Voldemort crawled back into bed sometime around seven, wrapping an arm around Minerva's thin waist. The woman hadn't even stirred at the movement; apparently she slept heavy. However, when she woke, she woke with such a start that it roused Tom quickly from his sleep.

While she might have felt embarrassed for the previous night's behaviour, Voldemort was perfectly happy with it. Everything had gone exactly as he wished. Actually, things had gone better than he had predicted going into the night. Although most wizards couldn't see the point in knowing how to pick a lock, he had learned that skill when he was only a child. He found it quite beneficial whenever he wanted something out of the locked rooms in the basement of his old orphanage, which were usually filled with cookies and other delicious sweets that the children were deprived of. His lock-picking skills became a little slack when he started to develop his magic, but he brought them back up to standard after he graduated from Hogwarts and away from Dumbledore's prying eyes. Whenever something was robbed, authorities tried to detect the most recent spell used in the area: no one ever thought to check the condition of the lock, which he usually left damaged. Naturally, he was a little more careful with Minerva's, but he left it in a state that would be easy to pick should he ever need to in the future.

When he arrived last night, her place was immaculate; that was to be expected. Everything was in order, just as he had remembered, except for the file folder he bought her for her birthday. That was strewn across her bed, no doubt forgotten on her way to Quidditch practice. As her bloody cat scampered into the bathroom, where he would remain for the whole duration of Minerva's absence, Voldemort settled onto her bed and went through her notes unceremoniously. Half of the papers had to do with her own lessons, which he didn't bother with, but when he stumbled upon the section where she kept her notes on his lectures, he paused. Most of them were only hastily scribbled pointless notes about him staying on schedule until he reached that day's section. She was very diligent in recording all the spells they discussed, and all his reasons for possibly using Dark Magic in an everyday setting. He knew the lecture would get him into trouble, but he had to find some students who were open to the idea in a more relaxed setting. Over the years, he learned that some of his best followers were those that had a free and easy opinion on using all sorts of magic, whether society deemed it unacceptable or not.

Surprisingly enough, it was a meek, small Hufflepuff girl that was willing to go the furthest with the darkness to save the people she loved. It was a different angle, but it was certainly something he could work with in the future. It was always good to know the perceptions of the youth. With each upcoming generation, the attitudes changed, and if he wanted to recruit for the next decade or so, Voldemort was fully aware that he needed to appeal to those most impressionable. However, Minerva seemed to become highly objectionable as the lecture went on, evidenced by her hasty notes and the progressively thinning line her lips became during the class.

Thank Merlin she had Quidditch to go to, otherwise he would have found himself in trouble again with her after he had already sorted them out. No, he couldn't have that. He also couldn't have her keeping her notes on file. So, as he sorted through her belongings, he took the second page of notes from that 'dangerous' lecture and set it on fire. He kept the first one in there, so suspicion wouldn't come up immediately if she quickly skimmed through it. However, page two had the juiciest details of his discussion, and that was the one that vanished without a trace. The cat seemed particularly upset with the fire in his territory, and Voldemort was fairly sure he heard a hiss from the bathroom as the paper went up in flames.

From there, he left, locked the room up, and set about on his initial plan to make up for the potential distress he may have caused her earlier in the day. Although Quidditch would be a fine distraction, as the woman seemed to have quite the affinity for it, he knew she would start to stew at some point that night over his classroom transgressions. So, he grabbed a bottle of wine from his office, one he had intended to drink on New Years, and scrounged up a few candles to set some sort of 'mood'. From there, he returned to her room and set to work, decorating it like any woman would fantasize about. However, when he had finished, he realized he had only killed about a half hour, and he was sure Quidditch wouldn't be done for another hour at best. So, to kill some time, he grabbed the paperback off her desk and sprawled across her bed, which had far too many pillows to his liking, and set about reading some slightly trashy fiction novel regarding the Goblin Wars.

When Minerva finally returned to her room, soaking wet and freezing, Voldemort realized tonight would go better than expected. While she was highly suspicious of him at first, he could tell she was so exhausted, not only by the look in her eye but by the way that she walked, that he had a chance to have the upper hand all night. After relieving her of her sodden clothing, which was more fun than he had anticipated, they crawled into bed and she practically fell asleep in her wine. This meant no talking, no arguing, no forced apologies… All he had to do was let her sleep, and in the morning everything would be forgotten.

However, as he stared at the closed bathroom door, lips pursed, he wondered if he might have overestimated just how much a good night's sleep would do for the woman. There was a great deal of splashing about, a toilet flush, and some sort of rummaging somewhere. He hadn't taken Minerva for a vain woman, but perhaps everyone felt a little bit uncomfortable waking up next to someone new. Running a hand through his hair, Voldemort assumed he looked the same as always; it certainly wasn't a concern, anyway.

Sighing, he snuggled back into her pillows, pushing a thicker one out of the way unceremoniously, and closed his eyes. Maybe if he pretended to still be asleep, he could get another hour or so in before he had to wake up. Unfortunately, that seemed unlikely when he heard the door open once again and a bit of a huff come from across the room. He braced himself, eyes still shut, hoping she would think he had gone back to sleep.

"You stayed the night."

But alas, all hopes were dashed. Sighing, he shifting up onto his elbow and looked at her, deciding she didn't seem as unimpressed with him as he had expected. Clearing his throat, he raised his eyebrows at her, "I did."

"Why?"

"Because believe it or not," he started, sitting up a little more into a comfortable position, "I was tired too. I can't believe how much teaching takes out of me… Normally after duelling is finished on Friday nights I go straight to bed."

"Well, why didn't you?" she asked, arms folded across her chest. His eyes narrowed a little, irritated with her tone, but he tried his best to brush it off.

"Are you cross I stayed over, or is it something else?" he inquired, trying very hard to keep his tone even. "I was nothing but respectful last night, so unless you're upset I saw you without make-up on, I think you should just come back to bed and sleep for another hour."

He watched her lips purse together, thinning into that little line that usually appeared whenever she was immensely displeased with him. Much to his surprise, however, she stalked across the room and slipped back under the covers. She didn't quite settle down. Instead, she sat straight-backed against her headboard, arms folded across her chest still.

"It was too soon for you to stay over," she told him just after he shut his eyes again.

"Can't seem to do anything right, can I?" he mused grumpily.

"No, it was my fault too," Minerva said suddenly, which made him glance up at her, a little skeptical that she would take some share of the blame. "After all, I could have easily told you to leave. I was tired, not unconscious."

He blinked a few times, forcing the sleep away for good, and then rolled onto his side to observe you. She was remarkably level-headed about so many things.

"You continue to surprise me, Minerva," he informed her. It was high praised, indeed, though he was sure she wouldn't understand why. Voldemort did not give it often.

"Why?"

"I suppose I expect every conversation about conflict to turn into a fight where I am immediately the villain," he said, reaching out and curving an arm around her slim waist. When she didn't object, he nestled a little closer, knowing that with each moment, he was closer to a victory. Suddenly, there was a hand in his hair, and he smirked against her. There it was. Success.

"I have always been known as strict, but fair," she said quietly. "I suppose it's only reasonable that you should expect that in our…"

She trailed off, though she continued to massage his scalp. Was she unwilling to say what they were becoming? Her discomfort was delicious. He wanted to drink in it.

"Our relationship?" he finished, holding back his smile when her body stiffened.

"I… suppose, yes, that's what we should call him."

He wanted to burst out laughing, but somehow he restrained himself. Instead, he cracked a sarcastic quip, "Well, seeing as we've spent the night together-"

"Tom," she hissed, giving his neck a sharp pinch. "Don't go around telling anyone! I don't want people to get the wrong idea."

"About us?"

"About me," she said firmly. "I'm not that type of-"

"Oh please, Minerva," he groaned, glancing up at her as he prodded her to keep massaging his head. "I don't think anyone will ever, ever think you're that kind of woman. Bossy, sharp, abrupt… Yes, they will think that, but never that type of woman."

"You always seem to have something to say, don't you?"

"The same can be said for you," he muttered, stretching leisurely as he relaxed in her capable hands. "But let me ask… If something had happened last night, would you have been upset with me?"

"Of course," she said quickly. "You know where I stand regarding…that."

"Sex?"

"Yes, Tom," she snapped, making him chuckle.

Most men would have been highly disappointed to have been rebuffed sexually. For Voldemort, it had never been an issue, as he so rarely sought it that to be denied was of little importance to him. It took him quite some time to understand why anyone would want to be so close to another person like that. Yes, it was pleasurable, but there were far too many other complicated emotions that went along with it, almost to the point where the pleasure was overlooked. However, with Minerva, he knew that the physical act itself would be enough to break her hold over his life completely. It wasn't going to be awful, but it was going to take some seriously hard work to get them to that stage, and sooner rather than later. If she trusted him implicitly enough in an act that she couldn't even say out loud, he was in the clear for anything and everything he wished to do at Hogwarts.

"Tom?"

"Hmm?"

"I think we should talk about yesterday."

"Didn't we already?" he mumbled. Suddenly, the massaging stopped, and he felt her shift a little.

"No, I mean your lecture," Minerva started. "I think it's really important that you understand why I'm singling it out."

"I fully understand," he argued as he sat up. "It wasn't in the syllabus and it was technically inappropriate for the age group-"

"Technically?"

"It was a spur of the moment thing," he told her. "Magic isn't good and evil… There are so many intricacies that these students don't become aware of until much later in their studies. I think they should know it sooner."

"An interesting theory, but it isn't your decision," she explained, reaching out to touch his arm lightly. "There are a number of things I want to teach in my classes, and countless more that could lean on the darker side of magic that I would deem… useful. However, we do not decide what we teach. We are given strict criteria, and you know we have to follow it."

"Don't you believe in bending the rules a little?" he cooed, cupping her chin and attempting to flash a charming smile. When she didn't melt under his touch, he retracted, his gaze hardening a little, "I suppose I should have known the answer to that."

She smirked a little, "Yes, you should have."

"All right, all right, I'm not awake enough yet for this conversation," he grumbled, taking his small defeat in stride (considering his earlier victories, and all), and then sat up. "Why don't I fetch us some tea and breakfast and we can discuss the merits of rule-breaking."

"I don't think it'll be much of a discussion."

"Humour me," he insisted, leaning forward and giving her a hard peck on the cheek. "Maybe it will be enlightening."

She laughed a little as he rolled out of bed and slipped into his shoes. Before he got something to eat, he might pop down to his own room and change into something different… It always felt a little off wearing the same clothes two days in a row.

"Do you want me to grab you the usual?"

Eggs, side of brown toast and jam, fruit cup.

"Yes, please."

"I'll be back in a half an hour or so," he told her as he started toward the door. "You might want to console your cat… I think I gave him a bit of a fright this morning."

"Are you sure you're going to be able to carry everything back?"

"I am a wizard, am I not?" he laughed coldly , not bothering to turn back and face her. What a ridiculous question. He didn't hear her response, and wasn't even sure if she gave one. Instead, he shut the door loudly behind him, and gave another stretch. He hadn't actually slept with someone for an entire night in such a long time… He forgot how stiff he always felt afterward.

The halls were empty that morning, and almost unbearably cold. It seemed that the temperature in this place got worse and worse as the winter wore on, and only let up once spring hit. As he recalled from his school days, it was awful to wake up on a winter morning in the Slytherin dormitories had one of your dorm mates not kept the fire going from the night before. No one wanted to start the day by feeling like hypothermia had set in in their appendages.

"Did you spend the night with her?"

He came to a sudden halt, his heart leaping from his chest when a voice came out of nowhere. He whipped around, livid as he stared down at Evelyn Cross. Her eyes seemed red, though she did not appear to have slept in the same clothes she had been wearing the day before, which had to mean she hadn't been camped outside the room all night.

"What did you just say?" he hissed, eyes narrowing at her.

"You heard me."

His lip twitched, fingers inching toward his wand, but he managed to keep his composure, "You have no business asking that question."

"I feel like I do-"

"Then you are gravely mistaken," he snapped, the urge to shout at her almost more overpowering than anything he had felt that morning.

"I saw you go in last night… and then I saw her-"

"If you continue to snoop around a professor's personal chambers, I will have to bring it to the attention of the headmaster."

Her eyes narrowed, and suddenly she planted her hands on her hips, taking a daring step forward, "Then I feel I might have to bring the subject of our late night discussions to his attention too."

Blind fury. Rage. It took every ounce of self-control he had to not grab her head and slam it into the nearby wall. Instead, he glared at her, hands shaking. How dare she threaten him?

"I think we might have an understanding," she murmured with a shrug. "I feel like we haven't had a real lesson in a while… Perhaps if you were spending less time with Professor McGonagall and more time with me, I wouldn't feel so out of practice."

He stood before her, saying nothing; for if he opened his mouth, the killing curse may have slipped out before he would care to stop it.

"Why don't we meet up tonight?" she suggested, her tone a little lighter now. "In your office… Let's say at eight. Sound good?"

"Yes."

"Good."

She gave a grin, one that in any other circumstance he would have been proud of, and then marched off with a confident stride in her step. He stood rooted in his spot for quite some time, raging over what had just transgressed. This could not stand. It would not stand.

A thought occurred to him, and he suddenly smiled a very horrible, awful smile.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I apologize for the delay! I was in midterm season for the spring, and it sucked majorly. Exams went all right (minus one stupid one which I continue to stew over), and I feel like I was only writing my Christmas ones last week. Ugh, depressing. So, writing got put on hold for all fronts, but now I have a week off and I'm going to try to catch up on everything. No promises, mind you. Whenever I promise to update more, I tend to get super lazy and not do anything. SO. I'm just going to try my best!

Oh, Evelyn. Green isn't a very becoming colour, even when it has to do with Tom. Definitely the wrong move. I also tried to keep Voldie and Minerva cute, but to a point. I don't think either of them are really the lovey-dovey WON-WON types.