A/N: I'm back, on schedule! I'm not going anywhere this time around. Please R&R, and I hope you enjoy!

For the disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Twelve: Autumn Term, 1942, Pt. II

Three weeks after what Minerva mentally referred to as the incident, her meetings with Albus had taken an odd turn. Albus was content to be his usual merry self, albeit distant in his interactions with her. On the other hand, Minerva was not a fan of the "sweep everything under the rug" method to which her professor seemed to ascribe. Every time she tried to clear the air, Albus kept distracting her with work. He didn't even offer her tea anymore, a fact that would much upset her mother's polite sensibilities. To make matters worse, Minerva had been coping with the disgusting Mandrake leaf in her mouth for the last three weeks. She didn't like the plant any more than she had when she was in her second year.

Minerva had thought she was getting away with the colossal leaf in her mouth until Harriet pulled her aside one afternoon after Herbology.

"Can we talk for a second?" Harriet pulled on the older girl's arm, walking away from the greenhouse and sitting on a windowsill. "Minerva, I don't know what's going on with you, but something's clearly not okay."

"Speak plainly, Harriet," Minerva rubbed her forehead. "I have no desire to guess what you're getting at."

Harriet held up her hands in surrender. "You've been speaking funnily for the past couple of weeks. It's like you've developed some sort of lisp all of a sudden. Aidan thinks your secret boyfriend is really doing a number on your lips, but us girls aren't fooled by any of that. Not to mention the foul mood you've been in for the last little while. And," Harriet added for good measure, "your breath stinks lately. Do you even brush your teeth anymore?"

"You try brushing your teeth with a goddamn leaf in your mouth," Minerva muttered under her breath, trying to smell it for herself.

"What was that?" Harriet shook her head. "Look, we're worried about you. Rowena stopped by; she says she hasn't seen you in ages. You're run off your feet with these secret rendezvous liaison meetings, Prefect patrol, and Quidditch-"

Minerva exhaled. "I get it, Harriet. I've been busy. I'm fine, though." She gave a tight-lipped smile and squeezed the girl's arm. "I appreciate that you care enough to ask."

"Of course," Harriet said uncertainly. "I can't help with much, but I am here to talk if you want. Or if you want a breath mint?"

The stress left Minerva's body as she laughed, holding out her hand. "Thanks, Harriet."

"Aren't you going to eat it?" Harried gestured towards Minerva's open hand.

Minerva grimaced, not wanting to fully open her mouth in such close proximity to the girl's prying eyes. "Yeah, in a bit. I'm going to go see Madam Prewett first, get a Pepper-Up potion. My head feels like it's been sucked through a vacuum."

"A what?" Harriet's face contorted in confusion. "What's a vacuum?"

"I, I'm," Minerva sighed deeply, "I have a headache. I'll see you later tonight, alright?" Harriet nodded before leaving her alone in the corridor. Minerva pursed her lips, then attempted to chew the mint while keeping the leaf safely glued to the roof of her mouth. "Fuck, this is disgusting." She gave up, spitting the mint out and Vanishing it. It was almost time for her lesson with Albus, and she was not going to face him with a half-chewed mint stuck to her teeth.

Two hours later, Minerva had managed to haphazardly brush her teeth, see her friends at dinner, obtain the Pepper-Up potion, and was now waiting patiently at Albus' door. As expected, it opened of its own accord at their scheduled meeting time. Not a minute earlier. That was just another one of his changes.

"Albus," Minerva nodded in greeting, sliding down into her chair. "How has your day been?"

"Fine, thank you, Miss McGonagall," Albus nodded back. After the incident, he had reverted back to addressing her by her title. She refused to back down and call him Professor again. Not after what she had seen. "How were your classes today?"

"Completely normal," Minerva rolled her eyes, thinking about how boring her lessons were today. "Nothing of interest to report."

"Well, let's remedy that!" Albus clapped his hands merrily. Minerva wanted to slap him.

"What's on the syllabus this evening?" Minerva asked politely.

"Permanent transfiguration of body parts! Obviously, becoming an Animagus means you can transform your entire body at will whenever you wish. There is growing research in the field that if we consistently have the ability, throughout our entire lives, to change our entire bodies, then we may have the power to change certain aspects of our physical selves, forever."

"So, for example, if I wanted to change the size of my feet, I could maintain that transfiguration for the rest of my life?"

"That's an odd example, but yes." Mirth lined his eyes that she hadn't seen in weeks. "The most recurring themes in the research are eye colour and shape, hair colour, height, et cetera."

"I have abnormally large feet," Minerva muttered, frowning. "Wouldn't a regular glamour spell take care of that? Glamours are common for changing someone's face."

"Not for extended periods," Albus countered. "A glamour needs to be consistently reapplied. A permanent change to a body part is magic akin to muggle plastic surgery. Barring any complications, the change is forever."

"Essentially, it's a half-version for people who want to change themselves, but don't want to deal with an animal self. Or," Minerva snorted, "a disgusting Mandrake leaf in their mouth."

"One more week, Miss McGonagall," Albus smiled. "One more week."

"Anything else I need to know about this expanding field of research, Albus?" Minerva asked.

"No, not unless you're planning on delving into the land of soul bonds, but that's mastery-level theory. Right now, you just need to be aware that there may be ways for those with significant transfiguration prowess to achieve such magic." He opened his bookshelf and floated a few textbooks over to the desk. "Take a look at these, and take some notes. I think a foot or two of parchment would suffice." Albus turned away from her, picking up some correspondence.

Minerva, knowing the conversation was over, sighed and picked up the books. Albus tended to avoid talking to her under the guise of letting her work, and she set herself to the task of learning as much as possible while she could.

Sometime later, Albus cleared his throat lightly. "Your hour is up."

"I still have fifty pages to read! I've only just cleared the chapter on facial transformations. I haven't even hit the foot part yet," Minerva whined, somewhat petulantly. "I haven't written very much at all."

"You can finish back in the common room. Patrols will be starting soon, and it wouldn't do for a Prefect to be caught out after curfew."

"It would hardly be a problem if you walked me back to the Gryffindor common room."

"Miss McGonagall, surely-"

"My name," she hissed, "is Minerva. Have we suddenly time-travelled back to last month?"

"I believe I made my views on your insolence quite clear," Albus steepled his fingers and looked down at them.

"It's not insolence, Albus, it's frustration!" Minerva leapt up and began to pace across his office. "I am quite capable of understanding that whatever it was that we went through last month was a traumatic experience. It brought up many painful memories. I apologize for viewing what I did. It was an honest mistake, a gut reaction! You pushed me," she was breathing quickly now, "and while I understood that you would and hold no ill will against you for it, that was my defence. For all of your talk about establishing trust, you're absolute rubbish at dealing with the aftermath when your great mind didn't have the wherewithal to consider all the consequences!

"I am your student. I'm sure you didn't expect me to fend you off like that, but I did. You can't erase what I saw. At least, not legally," Minerva amended hastily, in case he had mind to do just that. "I am sorry for the way I acted afterwards. It was admittedly childish. I just wish you would talk to me about it, instead of hiding your feelings and trying to alter what I was thought was becoming a friendship. And as a friend, I'm here to tell you that you are horrible at handling emotions, especially the unexpected."

"It is not your job to handle my emotions."

"In this instance, it damn well is, Albus! I have to look out for yours and mine. It's not like you've asked me how I felt. How I feel. You presumed that I was angry with you for doing your job, and you trucked on like your plan was the only one that mattered!"

"Are you quite finished, Miss McGonagall?" Albus yelled, and at that moment, Minerva knew she had crossed a line. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your obscene insubordination."

She thought she might faint and gripped the back of her chair. "Albus, what are you playing at?"

"I'm not playing at anything, Miss McGonagall. I am your Professor, and I am Deputy Headmaster of this school. I will not tolerate being addressed in such a manner, particularly not by a Prefect." Finally, for the first time in three weeks, Albus looked into her eyes. Minerva gulped. She didn't like what she saw, and she liked what he said next even less. "As you've said before, I do believe that if I left you to your own devices, you would be able to continue with this transformation on your own. I'll send you the proper materials as you need them. If you fail, you can return them to me at your earliest convenience. I think we've finished with the theory part of this process."

"You're just going to leave me to it, then?" Minerva fell into the chair, aghast. "You told me it was too dangerous to be done alone!"

"Yes, well," Albus spat, "you've certainly proved yourself to be powerful enough to handle anything you put your mind to."

"What about marking? I like grading for you, Albus..." she trailed off, grasping at straws.

"I thank you for your assistance, but I think it's time I take over my own responsibilities again. It wasn't fair of me to expect that a student could handle that much extra work," Albus said coolly.

The insinuation there struck Minerva like a punch to the gut. A tear escaped her eye, but Minerva was nothing if not professional. Adopting a collegially polite tone, she said, "Well, then. I appreciate the energy you've put into my career development thus far. I'll be sure to let you know how it progresses."

Albus faltered, about to say something, but she didn't give him a chance. For the second time in less than a month, Minerva ran out of his office. If the first fight between them had been an incident, this was a full-on debacle. The tears were streaming at this point, and she kept moving until she found her way into the Prefects' bathroom. Sobbing, Minerva peeled off her outer robes and made her way into the steam room, letting it calm her down.

"Minerva? Are you alright?"

A familiar voice shook her out of her reverie. "Riddle?"

"Yeah, it's me. And it's Tom, remember? Are you okay? You don't sound normal." He leaned over, and Minerva was shocked to see he almost seemed concerned.

"Wondering if it's because there's another boy you can scare away?" Minerva asked, more snippily than she had intended.

He shrugged off her tone. "Minerva, none of these boys is good enough for you. Don't you see that? No one here can match your power. And no one else would have noticed you were upset."

"How did you know? It's too steamy in here to tell."

"Unlike a lot of the pure-blooded prats prancing around the halls, I've," Riddle hesitated, swallowing. "I've not had the best upbringing. I actually know what it feels like to feel pain, suffering, loss."

Minerva looked at him, taking care to actually see him. "Is that why you acted like a right git for the first few years?"

"I'd never seen love or friendship before I came here," Riddle leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. "I grew up in an orphanage—a Muggle one. Obviously, no one understood the whole magic thing, so I didn't have any friends. I didn't know how to love, so I showed my emotions by hurting people. I was jealous. I wanted to fit in. I'm not necessarily proud of it, either, but I don't know how to stop the thoughts in my head sometimes."

"What do you mean?" she asked him softly. It struck her that, for some reason, the mark on her arm wasn't hurting. Minerva thought idly about mentioning it to Albus and then achingly remembered that they weren't on good speaking terms.

"I want to know how my parents could just give me up! I need to know why love isn't powerful enough to make you realize that giving your kid up to an orphanage without magic is a bad idea!"

"Maybe they couldn't care for you," Minerva offered helplessly. "Maybe they couldn't support you?"

"Right, because a Muggle orphanage was so supportive," Riddle scoffed. "I never want to feel that insignificant again. I want people to know who I am, to remember me. I want people to know that I changed the world, somehow."

"Why are you telling me this, Riddle?"

"Because I think you can help me, Minerva! For all your reticence at my helping you, giving you things, or trying to keep you safe, you actually strike me as a decent human being. You have knowledge and power, and you understand the world. You want to create a change. And," he flashed her the charming smile that he had honed so perfectly, "you're beautiful, too."

In her later years, Minerva would hate herself for blushing so deeply at those words.

"Riddle, stop with the flattery," Minerva tried to play it off, thankful it was warm enough that she could blame her red flush on the heat. He met her eyes, and she knew he knew that those words had stirred something inside her.

"I don't think you want me to," Riddle murmured softly. "I think there's a reason you haven't hexed me for getting rid of Longbottom, or any of those other idiots."

Before she knew what had happened, he was beside her, and her head was in his hands. Minerva's mouth parted ever so slightly in shock, and Riddle took that as his cue. His lips were on hers, gentle but firm, and she leaned into him, letting her hands rest on his chest. This was infinitely better than that kiss she had shared with her Muggle neighbour, Dougal McGregor, last Hogmanay. Minerva had just wanted that over with. This kiss, on the other hand, was making her stomach knot and her lips tingle. His hands were in her hair, scratching at her scalp. Riddle's hands were magic, Minerva decided, feeling free and allowing her hands to run up and down his torso. He groaned, pulling her closer so she that she was almost sitting in his lap. His tongue probed at her lips, and she moaned, granting him entry. Her hands wrapped around his neck as their tongues battled, and then something tasted oddly metallic-

"Minerva," he pulled away, "what the fuck is that in your mouth? My tongue feels like it got raked across sandpaper." He touched his tongue, and his finger came away slightly red. "Christ, that's blood."

Minerva reached her hands up to her mouth in horror. Thank Merlin, she thought as she felt to make sure the leaf was still in place, that he has control over his tongue. She didn't much fancy the notion of having to explain to Albus that she needed another leaf because Riddle had Frenched it out of her.

"That's embarrassing," Minerva muttered. "Sorry about that, do I need to, er- heal your tongue?"

"No, I think I'll leave it," Riddle smirked. "It'll be a reminder of just how much more I have to find out about you."

She could see the thoughts roll through his head, his eyes glinting possessively. There was no doubt that he really thought of her as belonging to him now. That thought, along with the not-quite-dealt-with anger and hurt directed at Albus, made her remember who she was kissing, and why she had taken care to stay away from him. The emotions of the night manifested in her arm, making her grimace. "Oh fuck, now?"

"Minerva? Are you okay?" Riddle looked at her again. "Can I help you?"

The pain worsened. "No, I'll be fine." Minerva smoothed out her under robes. "Riddle, that can't happen again."

"Why, because you liked it? Or because you seem to have a weird kink with keeping shit in your mouth?" Riddle challenged.

"It can't happen again because I'm not looking for a relationship," she replied firmly, wondering when she had gotten so good at compartmentalizing her emotions. "I'm also under a lot of emotional duress at the moment, and that was a lapse in judgement. And I don't make a habit of kissing boys who feel the need to interfere in my love life." She added dryly, "You were right, though: I did like it. You'll make someone very happy one day."

"Do you really mean that?" Riddle asked, almost hopefully. She realized that all he really craved was true companionship, and while he was fixated on her, he'd get past it. She hoped.

"Yes, I do," Minerva said gently. "You'll find someone who understands your past. They'll want to hold your hand and kiss you all the time, not just because they're weeping in a bathroom and need comfort."

He smirked. "Right place, right time on my part. Although I should apologize, I guess. I don't want you thinking that I took advantage of you just now. And if it truly bothers you, I'll stop chasing the other lads off. I've changed, and I need to act like it. Besides, maybe once you've seen how awful they are, you'll want me of your own accord."

"Riddle." Minerva groaned, not really in the mood to discern if he were being truthful, or was simply the biggest charmer to ever walk the earth. "If that ever happens, I'll give you a Hippogriff. Try to find another girl, someone who is available and wants you without you having to hex away the competition." An idea popped into her head. "Do you still have that diary you tried to give me?"

"Of course. My name has never looked so beautiful," Riddle smiled charmingly.

"Use it, then. Write out your feelings, create a space for your thoughts. Talk to yourself. Really figure out who you are and what you want, okay? I don't think you know enough about love to truly want it if you think it's lesser than power. You can't love if your soul isn't whole."

His eyes lit up wondrously at her words, and she left the bathroom, taking care not to get caught on her way back to Gryffindor tower. Her emotions were starting to bubble underneath the surface, not to mention her thumping arm, and it simply wouldn't do to collapse in a corridor.

"Hey, McG! Where've you been? Harriet thought she upset you, something about a mint-" Aidan stopped himself as she entered the room. "Are you okay?"

"I, uh," Minerva stammered, forgetting how to think. A sob escaped her lips. "He hates me, he was filled with so much anger, and then he kissed me, and I wasn't supposed to like it, but then I did, but I suppose it doesn't matter because then I told him off..."

Aidan's eyes widened. "Did he hurt you?"

Minerva thought about her arm. "I think so? Aidan, I don't know anything anymore."

"Min, I need you to concentrate. Did this boy," Aidan spat the word, "hurt you? Should we go to Dumbledore?"

Hearing Albus' name caused the night's events to crash into her, and she couldn't stop the wail that left her lips. "Since when do you call me by my name?"

"Since I thought I might need to shoot an Unforgiveable someone's way," Aidan told her seriously. "Min, what happened?"

All she could do was throw herself into his arms, tears flying down her cheeks, seeking comfort in the only reliable male she had left in the castle.