A/N: This chapter cost me one of my nine lives. Enjoy!

For the disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Fifteen: May 22, 1943

"Alright, everyone, listen up!" Minerva bellowed at her Quidditch team, causing them all to come forward and huddle around her. "We are the defending Cup champions for four years running. We will not lose to Slytherin today. You all know what to do. Clear passes, smart strategy, avoid their bludgers," Minerva counted on her fingers, "and for the sake of Quidditch, Moriarty, catch the damn snitch as quickly as you can. We're ahead; we don't need the points. We just need to win."

Liam Moriarty, a fifth-year, wasn't as risky as his predecessor Parvati Lupin, but he was faster. Much to Minerva's happiness, he was also a lot better at avoiding bludgers. "I'll do my best, Captain."

"See that you do," Minerva nodded briskly. "Seeing as the Slytherins are a nasty bunch, we'll probably need to be a lot more defensive than we're used to. Let's just get out there, have fun, and beat the hell out of them."

"That's the competitive Min we know and love," Michael teased cheekily. He had joined the team as a beater at the September try-outs, his interest piqued by Minerva's evident love for the game.

Their captain rolled her eyes and motioned towards the brooms sitting on the benches. "Get ready, folks. The whistle is about to go, and I have no desire to be given a penalty for showing up to the pitch late."

They got in formation, and sure enough, Madam Finch's whistle blew shortly thereafter. Michael smirked at her before flying slowly into the air, waiting for her lead. Minerva flew them out of the dressing rooms and on to the pitch. She breathed in deeply, loving the smell of the freshly cut grass as the wind whipped around her. The crowd screamed loudly for them, red and gold penchants waving through the air. She rolled her neck and prepared to chase the quaffle.

"Surely I don't need to tell you two," Madam Finch narrowed her eyes at Minerva and Katrina, who was Slytherin's captain, "but we play fair, understood?"

"Yes, Madam Finch," they said in syrupy synchronicity, and had it been anyone else, Minerva was sure she would have laughed. Katrina glared at her before flying up to the Slytherin goalposts. Before Minerva knew it, the quaffle was released, and it was in her hands.

Minerva could hear Aidan's voice narrating the scene as she wove around bludgers and Slytherins, passing the quaffle off to Amelia Spinnet. He was almost a more enthusiastic commentator than Jordan had been, and he was definitely more colourful. Shaking her head back into focus, she extended her fingers, barely catching the quaffle again before tossing it past Katrina through the middle hoop.

"10-0 Gryffindor! That's my friend, you know, our very own Minerva McGonagall," Aidan announced into the microphone. "LET'S GO GRYFFINDOR!"

And "go" they did. The Gryffindor team was soon up 70-30, but Moriarty didn't seem to be anywhere near catching the snitch. She could tell from Aidan's worried voice that Malfoy, the Slytherin seeker, had come close a few times, but other than that, she couldn't discern what was going on around the pitch.

There were too many godforsaken bludgers coming her way.

Minerva didn't know why they were coming at her repeatedly from all angles, but they were. She had to perform unbelievable acrobatics just to get her hand on the quaffle. As soon as she had it, she had to pass it off again, maneuvering out of the way of the bludgers.

"Christ, why are they all over you?" Amelia yelled as she flew under Minerva to catch the quaffle. "We can't bloody do anything!"

Minerva spun around, receiving a pass back from Amelia. She grunted and aimed the ball at the goal post, scoring for Gryffindor. The cheers reverberated around the pitch, and Katrina looked angry as all hell. She couldn't spare a thought for celebration, though, needing to fly upwards as the two bludgers bounced off each other in the spot she had only just vacated.

"Gryffindor's up 80-30 now, and the snakes seem to be mad!" Aidan shouted. "No sign of the snitch in a while -WATCH OUT FOR THE BLUDGER, MIN! Crikey, there seems to be a lot of those going around! Michael, get better at using the damn bat!"

Inwardly, Minerva knew Michael and Camille LeComte were doing their best. Outwardly, she let her rage out. "You need to keep those bloody balls away from me! Do you want to win or not?" she shrieked madly, spinning to avoid the bludgers again.

"Honestly, Min," Camille cracked one towards Katrina, only for it to come right back, "they seem to be charmed!" She panted with the effort at having to whack the bludger right back away.

Those snakes wouldn't fucking dare.

"You think they charmed them?" Michael called, not leaving Minerva's side, doing what little he could. "Isn't that a bit much, even for them?"

"No," Minerva ground out bitterly. "They've done it before."

"What?" Michael yelled, his bat splintering with the effort to keep his captain safe. "Why the hell are they still allowed to play?"

"It was years ago," Minerva tried to explain through the wind, "and it wasn't me they went after. It was my sister."

Michael stared at her. "Let's win this game then, alright?"

"That's what I've been trying to do," she flew off, her voice warbling in the wind. "What have you been doing?"

An hour went by, and no one had seen the ridiculous snitch. Minerva was getting tired of what could only be called defence lessons, and the team was wearing out. Even the crowd, typically excited beyond belief, was restless. The Slytherins were getting angrier and angrier, and they were getting more physical in their pursuit to catch up to the Gryffindor team. The score was now 140-60 in favour of the lions, due in large part to the penalty shots they were rewarded as a result of Slytherin's unsportsmanlike conduct.

"Moriarty!" Minerva bellowed, seeing her seeker for the first time since the game began. "Do me a favour, and catch the fucking snitch, okay? We're getting attacked!"

"I'm doing my best, Min!" he snapped back, his eyes widening as he turned to face her. "Fuck, Minerva, MOVE!"

Minerva barely had time to register his words before her world went black.

For the second time in her Hogwarts career, Minerva woke up in the Hospital Wing. She tried to sit up, hissing as her chest pulled and her head throbbed. Her head fell back and hit the pillow, which didn't do much to help the pain. She heard voices, much like the first time she had laid in one of the beds.

"I expect there to be serious consequences for this, Armando," Albus' voice radiated powerfully throughout the Hospital Wing. "Miss McGonagall has serious injuries. She could have been killed. These students did this once to her sister, and now they've repeated the action. It's even become so blatant that it's in plain sight!"

"What would you have him do, Albus?" Slughorn's nervous chuckle came next. "Really, they were pulled right off the pitch, and you saved Minerva. She'll be right as rain in a few days, what with Lavinia looking after her."

"I beg your pardon," Albus drew breath slowly, anger dripping from his voice. "I shouldn't have needed to save Minerva."

"Men, be reasonable. Last time they did this, the culprits were put on house-arrest for the remainder of the school year," Headmaster Dippet mused. "But it doesn't appear that they have learned their lesson."

"Armando, honestly, there shouldn't have been a 'last time'." Minerva was startled to hear Albus' voice crack. "They're causing real bodily harm to students. Min- Miss McGonagall is a model student. Her grades are impeccable, she comports herself well, students look up to her. She's seen by her peers as invincible. All of the students will be wondering if they're next."

"Albus, that's a bit hyperbolic," Slughorn protested. "Surely, students will understand that this was a poor prank meant to win a Quidditch match. It wasn't unprovoked."

"It wasn't unprovoked?" Albus thundered dangerously. "You're telling me that you believe that a rival house quidditch final amounts to provocation?"

Minerva knew she had to stop him before he blew up the Hospital Wing in his quest to eviscerate Slughorn. Wincing in preparation, Minerva lifted her head up and threw it back against the wall with all her might. Her scream was, therefore, convincing.

Albus rushed in behind the curtains, his blue eyes alit. "Miss McGonagall, are you alright?"

"Ev'rything hurts, Professor Albus," she murmured, not quite able to think clearly. "Tried to move. Had to stop you. I hurt."

"She's clearly lost her mind," Dippet shook his head. "Find the responsible students, Horace, and bring them to my office. Unfortunately, I think that expulsion will be a topic for discussion." He turned towards the open curtains. "Albus, will you be joining us?"

Albus hesitated, eyes flickering over to Minerva. Her eyes widened in a plea for him to stay. He sighed, "No, Armando, I think I'll stay with Miss McGonagall for a while. I want to assess her for myself. If you're amenable to the arrangement, I'll come to your office afterwards."

"Of course, Albus," Dipped nodded. "Feel better, Miss McGonagall." He turned and walked out of the Hospital Wing with Slughorn, the door closing with a resounding bang.

Minerva felt a silencing charm around her bed as Albus waved his hand and dropped himself into a chair, sighing deeply. He handed her a pain potion that was sitting on the table, which she gladly drank. "You gave me quite the fright, Minerva."

"I don't think I'm doing much better on this end, Albus," Minerva groaned, putting the bottle down, happy she had her powers of speech back. She settled into a position on the pillow that didn't hurt her head. "What did they do to me?"

"Madam Prewett says you have a concussion and three broken ribs," Albus informed her.

"That's why I can't move, then," Minerva shut her eyes. "What even happened, Albus?"

Albus closed his eyes in painful recollection. "We were watching the game. All of a sudden, there were screams, and you were falling through the air. I managed to stop your fall, but you were obviously injured when we went to get you. Mr. Moriarty explained that two bludgers had hit you at the same time: one in the head, and one in the side of your chest."

"Oh," Minerva whispered. "That sounds wretched."

"I fear you may be a resident of the Hospital Wing for a while longer," Albus clucked his tongue. "I never, ever want to see a student fall through the air again. That," he shuddered, "was horrific."

"I'm sorry, Albus," Minerva began. "I should have been paying more attention."

"Minerva, look at me." She imperceptibly twisted her neck so that her eyes could meet his. "What happened had nothing to do with you. You evaded their attacks for the better part of ninety minutes. It is not your fault that students decided to charm the bludgers beforehand. For that matter, it is not your fault that Madam Finch didn't complete her normal pre-game check of all of the equipment. Nothing about this is your own doing."

Minerva stayed quiet, fiddling with the blanket. "I heard your conversation," she said quietly. "The same people that did this to Di are the ones who did it to me?"

"It was Miss Rowle who threw one of the bludgers at you," Albus admitted. "It was quite foolish of her; everyone at the match was a witness. She was smart enough to know she was caught, though, and confessed to hexing the bludgers before the match. Miss Rowle was quick to name Mr. Black as her accomplice. As you heard, expulsion was on the table. I can only hope that Armando sees reason."

"Did we win the match?"

Albus laughed morosely. "You almost fell to your death, and you're concerned with the outcome of the match?"

"Well, Albus," Minerva's eyes lit up mischievously, "I am the captain, and I am undefeated as a Gryffindor chaser, so..."

"We brought the game to a halt the second you fell from your broom," Albus told her. "Madam Finch decided to call the match in favour of the score as it stood, so yes, you won."

"You stopped the match? That wouldn't happen in normal quidditch! If you saw a proper match in a proper league, an injury would just spur the other players on! We didn't win, then," Minerva muttered dejectedly. "We were handed the match."

"Well, this is a school where we professors are responsible for the well-being of our students, Minerva," Albus replied drily. "We couldn't exactly condone the continuance of a house match when you had quite literally fallen from the sky. Besides, I'm sure that Gryffindor Tower is celebrating anyways. A win is a win, and the scoreboard does not lie."

"Humph," Minerva sighed. "I hate Slytherin."

"In this particular instance, I'll grant you that," Albus winked at her.

"You know, Albus, I'm thrilled the Hat put you in Gryffindor," Minerva commented. "I know it considered Slytherin, but I'm happy I don't have to hate you right now."

"I'm also happy you don't have to hate me," he teased. "I'm very thankful to be your Head. You know, I'm even more thankful for your marking capabilities."

"You might need to pick up the red quill again if my head doesn't stop pounding," Minerva rolled her eyes. "I don't think I'll be able to tolerate your first-years' essays for a while."

"Do you mind if I run a diagnostic charm, Minerva?" Albus hesitated. "I want to see for myself what we're dealing with, particularly seeing as Madam Prewett is unaware of both your Animagus abilities and the mark on your arm."

"Of course, Albus," Minerva acquiesced. She waited while he waved his wand, charts appearing above her body. "Don't you think we should report my transformation to the Ministry?"

"I say enjoy the anonymity for a little while longer." Albus' eyes were reading her diagnostic charts. "Your arm appears to be fine, but I don't want you to transform again until you're fully healed."

"Understood, Albus," Minerva nodded. "How much longer am I to be locked up here for, anyway?"

"Probably two or three days, why?"

"Do you have to go to that meeting with the Headmaster right away, or do you have time to sit and chat?" Minerva asked shyly.

"I can certainly keep you company for a while," Albus smiled. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing at the moment, as any clear thought was knocked out of me by an errant bludger," Minerva closed her eyes. "Think of something, won't you?"

"Minerva?" A hushed voice appeared out of the darkness and Minerva tiredly opened her eyes.

"Who's there?" she whispered, rubbing the sleep off of her face. She looked at her watch and saw that it was two in the morning. "Why are you here?"

"It's Tom," Riddle replied quietly, lighting his wand. "I wanted to check on you."

"You really didn't need to do that," Minerva said, suddenly alert. "And if you really felt it was necessary, you could have waited until normal visiting hours. Won't Bode wonder where you are?"

"Bode was a distraction," Riddle shrugged. "I thought you might have been right when you said I should try to date a girl who liked me for me."

"And?"

"And," he said, sitting on her bed, "it's not for me."

Minerva gingerly crossed her legs, creating a bit of space for him. "So you decided to find your way into my bed?"

"Well," Riddle's eyes glinted in the light, "you did make some room."

She pursed her lips. "Riddle, you shouldn't be here after hours. I don't want you here." A thought occurred to her, and she couldn't stop herself from asking a question. "Where on earth did you hear about soul-bonds, and what possessed you to ask Slughorn about them?"

"I was doing some reading in the library," he shrugged, "and the subject came up. I was curious."

"That's a lie," Minerva replied hotly, "because I know for a fact that all books containing information on the topic were removed from the library a number of years ago."

Riddle's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in suspicion. "How do you know that?"

"It doesn't matter how I know it, but I do," Minerva answered. "So, I'll ask again: where did you hear about them?"

He sighed heavily, "Malfoy, Prince, and Parkinson were talking about it in the common room. I mentioned some research I was doing on the subject of souls and how they can be manipulated, and Malfoy mentioned that her mother said that soul-bonds were incredibly rare. No one knew much more than that."

She raised an eyebrow. "So you knew they existed, and that was enough to pique your interest? Why did you ask our potions professor? Wouldn't it have made more sense to ask Professor Johnson? And what research were you doing on souls, anyway?"

"You know, for someone who didn't want me here, you certainly are demanding a lot of answers," Riddle smirked. "I was curious about them, yes. I had never heard of them, and it sounded intriguing. I asked Slughorn because he likes me, and I knew that he would tell me what he could. Besides, he's my head of house, and I'm sure you'd go to Dumbledore if you had a problem." Minerva didn't miss the dark scowl that flashed across his face at Albus' name. "I've been looking into souls because they contain our power, our very magical core. I wanted to know more about them and see why some of us have more power than others. Even if we were all equipped with the same knowledge from birth, some of us are just better at magic."

Despite herself, Minerva was intrigued. "What did you find out?"

"I discovered a way to live with your soul sp-" Riddle stopped himself, shaking his head. "I'm not telling you."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because while I like you, I don't know if I can trust you." His eyes raked over her, and Minerva felt a pricking sense of anxiety spread from her stomach and settle in her arm where he had marked her. She unconsciously rubbed at it, pulling the sleeve of her hospital gown down and over her hand. "I need proof that I can trust you, Minerva."

"I think you should go now, Riddle," she swallowed, suddenly aware of the potentially dangerous situation in which she found herself. "I'm not so invested in this as to need to prove my trustworthiness to you."

"If we were bonded somehow," he whispered, "then I could trust you. Because you wouldn't be able to leave me. You'd be different than everyone else."

"Bonded?" Minerva's voice rose an octave. She hissed, "Do you even know how you create a soul-bond? You realize you can't choose the person with whom you bond, don't you?"

He waved her question off. "I'm sure that those of us with enough power can figure it out. And while I'll admit I'm not one hundred percent sure of the magic behind it, Slughorn did tell me how to create a soul-bond."

"When you stayed behind after the meeting? You asked him then?" Riddle opened his mouth to answer, and Minerva slowly reached her hand out to grab her wand off of the nightstand, bringing it underneath her blanket. He kept talking, and she closed her eyes, thinking of her patronus. Albus had been teaching her how to cast it; she had not yet managed a fully corporeal form with the Expecto Patronum charm, but she was sometimes able to send messages with her patronus. Minerva sent a message to Albus and, praying it worked, she turned her attention back to Riddle.

"So," Riddle finished, "while he seemed to be embarrassed, poor man, Slughorn did give me all of the facts. I've been telling you for years that we would make a good team, Minerva. If we could be truly bonded, tethered to each other for eternity, we would be limitless."

"Eternity?" she breathed. "We're not immortal, Riddle."

"Not yet," he murmured, and he placed his hand on her thigh. "Not yet, but one day, you and I could change the world."

"Riddle, I don't want to change the world with you." Minerva tried to move farther away from him, but with her injuries, her abilities were limited. "I really would like you to leave now, please."

"Minerva," Riddle whispered, raking his free hand through her hair. She shuddered and tried to wiggle out from under his grasp, but he gripped her chin in response. "You said you enjoyed our kiss. Let me show you how happy we can be."

He moved to kiss her, and Minerva squirmed. "Please, Riddle, don't do this." She felt his breath on her lips and closed her eyes and scrunched them tightly, wanting to be anywhere else. Instead of feeling his lips, she felt a burst of accidental magic leave her body. Her eyes flew open to see Riddle strewn across the otherwise empty Hospital Wing; he had clearly been blasted away by her magic. Minerva tensed, waiting for his retaliation, but the main door opened and Albus emerged, wand outstretched.

"What is going on here?" he demanded.

"Albus, Riddle came in here unannounced and unwanted," Minerva choked out, unable to stop a tear leaking out of her eye. "He wouldn't leave."

"Albus? Why do you call him Albus, Minerva?" Riddle asked, his eyes narrowing. "And why did you feel the need to appear in your student's hospital room in the middle of the night, Professor?"

Minerva's cheeks flushed at his insinuation, but Albus didn't waver. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Mr. Riddle. A Prefect should know better than to be out after hours." His eyes flickered to Minerva. "Are you alright, Miss McGonagall?"

She nodded slowly. "I'll be fine, sir."

"Return to your common room, Mr. Riddle. Now," Albus thundered. "Rest assured that I will alert Professor Slughorn to your conduct this evening."

Riddle scoffed, but stood nonetheless. He paused at the door and turned back towards Minerva. "Our conversation isn't over. You will see reason, Minerva. You just need to believe." With that, he turned on his heel and left.

Albus quickly warded the room and crouched at the edge of her bed. "Are you truly okay, Minerva? Would you like a Calming Draught?"

"Please," she assented, gulping it down after he had Summoned it. "Thank you for coming."

"Your patronus, while improving immensely, is not quite perfect," Albus frowned. "All I managed to get out of it was "Riddle", "here", "safe", and "help". Those words were worrisome, needless to say. I'm just happy I got here when I did. How did he get across the room? Did he," Albus narrowed his eyes in anger, "force himself on you?"

"He tried," Minerva whispered. "It was just like you said. He wants to bond with me. He wants my power. I was scared, and I suppose my instincts took over."

"Thank heavens for that," Albus exhaled slowly. "Minerva, I want your permission to take this to the headmaster. If we tell Armando and show him your memories, perhaps we can have Riddle expelled from the school."

"No, Albus," Minerva disagreed vehemently. "I don't want to think about it again, and I don't want him to have a reason to seek vengeance on me. He's already muttering nonsense about souls and immortality and bonding; I don't need him experimenting with any of that on me, or anyone else. I'm no more hurt than I was an hour ago."

"Are you sure, Minerva?"

"Yes," she stated, and she was proud that her voice didn't waver. "The only person in danger is me, so ratting him out wouldn't do any good."

"I don't like this one bit, Minerva," Albus sighed, "not one bit."

"Albus, please," she implored him, "I have eleven more months at this school. I do not need anyone -especially not the headmaster- thinking that I encouraged this in some way."

"Minerva, Armando wouldn't think that!" Albus exclaimed, horrified.

"I wouldn't put it past Riddle to convince him otherwise. And don't start thinking that I'm acting too blasé about this. I'm being practical," she shrugged.

"Minerva, I'm not comfortable sitting on something like this."

In the future she would regret her stubbornness, but at seventeen, she cared more about her pride. "You wanted my permission, and you don't have it," she responded firmly. "Ward my room if you have to, stand guard if you must, but you will not tell the headmaster."

Albus had done just that, ensuring that either he, Aidan, or one of her dorm-mates was with Minerva at all times. He had taught her how to play Wizard's Chess, an activity for which she had absolutely no talent. Three long days later, Minerva was finally allowed to go back to Gryffindor Tower. She was thankful to be able to leave the Hospital Wing and move back into her room in the Tower where Riddle couldn't reach her.

"Ready, Minerva?" Albus gallantly held out his arm to walk her back to the common room. He had insisted on escorting her back so that she wouldn't find herself in another unfortunate situation. She appreciated his protective instinct, but the constant oversight was stifling.

"I can walk, you know," Minerva grumbled, hoisting herself off the bed.

She promptly fell onto Albus' chest.

"Are you sure about that?" he smirked kindly at her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and allowing her to hang on to the other. "We'll go slowly."

"As much as I don't want to say it, if I can't walk, should I really be leaving?" Minerva grimaced as they took a few steps towards the door.

"Madam Prewett believes you need to start moving to get the blood flowing again." Albus opened the door and shuffled them both through it. "You'll get to convalesce in your own bed with your friends around you. And you'll be able to go to class."

"Thank goodness. I miss that," Minerva admitted. "Wizard's Chess is fun and all, but it does leave something to be desired after six rounds in a row."

"You're only saying that because I won every round, and despite your best efforts, you didn't come close to beating me."

"I will beat you one day, Albus, and you will rue the day you taught me to play."

They continued in comfortable silence, taking the stairs slowly as Minerva reacquainted herself with moving her legs. The fifteen-minute walk took three times that, but the pair eventually arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait.

"I'm going to escort you in, make sure you're situated," Albus began. "I want to make sure you'll be okay. But please remember, I'm Professor Dumbledore in here, not Albus, or," his eyes brightened, "Professor Albus."

"I had smashed my head against the wall to get your attention," Minerva said exasperatedly. "You can't hold that one against me."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll find a way." Albus winked at her, and he led her through the portrait.

"Min!" Charlotte's relieved voice was the first sound they heard. "We were so worried."

"You'll be happy to note, Min, that I have written home to my family to inform them that I will no longer be attending any social events with them," Aidan announced as soon as Albus had led her through the portrait, "on account of my cousin being an awful bitch. Not to mention she's a disgrace, what with being expelled and all."

"Language, Mr. Scrimgeour," Albus quipped, more out of habit than admonishment. "Miss McGonagall, are you able to make yourself comfortable on the couch?"

"Yes, Professor." Minerva sat herself down to prove it, forced to grab his hand when she became lightheaded. "Owwwwww."

"If you needed help, you could have just asked," Albus chuckled quietly, out of earshot of the others.

He gently helped her to lay down, and Minerva leaned into this touch, not quite ready to let him go. "Thank you, Professor." Her eyes met his, and she hoped she was able to convey her thanks for more than just the walk up to the tower.

Albus smiled gently. "Well, Miss McGonagall, I will leave you in your friends' capable hands. Please take care of yourself. I look forward to seeing you in Transfiguration. Have a good day, everyone."

"Bye, Professor," they all chorused. Poppy set herself the task of ensuring that Minerva was well taken care of.

"Right, so I've been talking with Madam Prewett, and she says you'll need to take this potion every five hours for the next week," Poppy held up a turquoise vial, "and then this red one here every night. We'll also help walk you everywhere, and then we need to bring you back for a check-up in two days. Madam Prewett'll want to know how you're progressing."

"Merlin, Poppy," Aidan laughed, "you a Medi-Witch now?"

"Perhaps one day," Poppy huffed, smoothing a blanket over Minerva.

"Thank you, Poppy," Minerva smiled at her roommate, squeezing her hand. "I feel much better knowing that you're here."

Michael came over, hand ruffling his hair. "I'm sorry, Min. There's nothing worse than seeing your captain fall seventy feet through the air, knowing you were supposed to be protecting her. I just keep thinking that if only I had been more experienced, or quicker off the draw..." he frowned. "I would have visited you in the Hospital Wing, but I admit I was scared you'd try to hex me away. I'm really, really happy you're okay, though."

"It's not your fault, Michael," Minerva told him, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "But when I'm healthy again, you and Camille will both have to fly a few extra laps around the pitch."

"Duly noted. I eagerly await the punishment," Michael grinned before catching sight of Aidan. "Oi, Scrimgeour! Hands off Min's candy, eh?"

He ran to the table where Aidan was indeed elbow-deep in Minerva's pile of gifts from various well-wishers. Charlotte took the opportunity to settle beside Minerva, her hands running gently over the injured girl's scalp. "Min, I have something to say that you might not like."

"Oh, well, please lay it on me now while I don't have any good news for you to ruin," Minerva snorted.

"I think -and by think I mean strongly believe- that Michael has feelings for you," Charlotte said quietly, her hand keeping Minerva from jolting up in surprise.

"Why in the name of Merlin would you think that?" Minerva breathed, searching Charlotte's eyes.

"Michael was in a right state when you were injured. He wanted to go to Dumbledore, ask him to remove him from the team for poor performance. I've never seen him so worried. And what's more," Charlotte leaned in conspiratorially, "Aidan walked in on him crying, muttering about how he let you down."

"He just felt bad about the match, surely," Minerva blushed.

Charlotte shook her head. "No, Min. This was different. Even Aidan thinks something's up, and that's saying something. I know how you feel about love, though, so I guess I just wanted to ask...do you think you'd be interested if it came to that?"

"Are you going to tell him what I say?" Minerva asked hesitantly. "I don't want anything to get back to him."

"Of course not, no!" Charlotte's face was hurt. "I was wondering. As your friend, you silly goose." She paused, stopping her ministrations on Minerva's hair. "For what it's worth, I do think the two of you would make a really cute couple. And now Augusta is dating Longbottom, so we can do double dates in Hogsmeade, but honestly, Augusta can be rather terrifying the way she bosses him around. You and Michael would be fun, though."

Minerva chuckled softly and considered the idea. Michael was kind, funny, and brave, and certainly not unattractive. She didn't have any feelings for him; at least, none that she was aware of. But, she realized, if she were to ever want to take a foray into the strange land of love, he would be a fine choice. Another part of her thought -unfairly, she knew- that a boyfriend just might keep Riddle at bay. An even larger part of her wanted to swear off of men forever after the stunt that Riddle had pulled. She sighed, utterly bewildered.

"I don't have any feelings at the moment," Minerva whispered after a moment, carefully considering her words. "But I wouldn't necessarily be opposed to any developing organically and without your intervention, as it were."

Charlotte beamed. "I'm both surprised and extremely pleased with your emotional progress, Min."

Minerva laughed, thinking it might be nice to have someone with whom she could sit and play Wizard's Chess.