A/N: Okay, so thanks to me doing this...

Voldy: Didn't you say you were going to update on New Years for "cute timing?"

A/N: Well yes, but..

Voldy: Careful now, or we might start to disregard everything you say.

A/N: Sorry, but the inspiration for two chapters came too soon and hit me over the head, so...

Voldy: Readers, she's not trustworthy. Therefore, everything she's ever written, especially the parts with me and the cat lady, are completely false.

A/N: STOP IT. Anyway, Sherbet, Sachita, Eva, and Aquitane, these are for you guys. Merry Christmas and happy holidays. :)

Dumbledore's back was to Minerva when she entered the office. "You sent for me, sir?"

"Yes." He turned to face her. "It will be brief, I promise. How are things with Tom?"

"Same as ever," Minerva replied carefully. "Any reason in particular for asking?"

"Not at all," Dumbledore said. "I actually want a favor from you."

"Of course," Minerva said. "What can I do?"

"Well, you're having your dueling club preliminary meeting after New Years, correct?" She nodded. "I want you to let him teach most of it, and report to me how he does. And intervene if you feel you must, because remember, you have authority."

"I'll be happy to, sir," Minerva said, pleased he trusted her with the responsibility.

"And don't feel obligated to do it if you don't want to, Minerva," Dumbledore said kindly. "If you think it will interfere-"

"Albus," Minerva said smiling, "it's no trouble, really. Tom and I aren't terribly serious, you know." Secretly, she found herself questioning the truth of the statement.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I wonder how far things will progress before you two reach an impasse. Do you know, he actually told me 'good morning' today at breakfast, without a trace of cynicism?"

"Did he now?" Minerva exclaimed. "I've made progress with him, then. I'll be sure to report to you after the lesson."

"Marvelous. Minerva, before you go, come look at this," and he led her to Fawkes' perch, where the regal phoenix and demonic toucan cuddled, the picture of innocent adorableness.

"Thank goodness Tom didn't kill him," Minerva found herself saying.

"Kill him?"

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Tom has a vendetta against Lowther."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, pensive. "Does he, now."

Minerva's Chambers

"I'm not particularly fond of the green, personally," Minerva said frowning at the dress Pomona was holding.

"It suits your eyes, though," the short witch replied. "Try it on?"

"I'd rather not."

Pomona rolled her eyes. "If you hate it so much, why did you buy it in the first place?"

"I didn't! It was a gift from my brother. It's a wonder he got the size right." Minerva joined Pomona in the closet, yanking out dresses that caught her eye and laying them on the bed. "Maybe I'll wear black?"

"If you wear black you have to accessorize or you'll just look boring," Pomona returned. "Why not this one?" She held up a tartan dress.

"Well, I would, but I'm weighing how much I'd enjoy wearing it against Tom having a conniption when he sees me in it," Minerva said, shrugging.

"Isn't that an added bonus, though?" Pomona asked with a giggle.

Minerva laughed. "You're awful."

"Yes. And you love me for it." Pomona put the tartan away. "Okay, question. How comfortable are you in something fitted, black, and strapless?"

Minerva frowned. "Not very."

"Okay... and I'm guessing if it might be above knee it's a deal breaker?"

"With tights, no." Minerva tilted her head. "I don't have any dresses like that, Pomona. What are you getting at?"

Pomona pulled out the dress she had described. "It's mine though, so it's bound to be a bit short on you. But we're roughly the same measurements, so..."

Minerva eyed the dress skeptically. "I don't want to wear that." She tried to find words to describe it that weren't offensive. "It's too...fitted. I won't be able to walk, let alone dance."

Pomona sighed. "But you have to, Minerva. How else can I justify wearing this?" She pulled out one of Minerva's lesser-worn cocktail dresses, a Elizabeth Taylor style frock in eggplant purple, tight at the bodice with a full taffeta skirt.

"You don't need to justify borrowing my clothes, dear," Minerva laughed. "It's all yours."

"Wonderful. Then you wear mine. It'll look better on you anyway!" Pomona shoved the dress at her. "You have little more than an hour to get ready. Now take it."

Minerva accepted the dress with distaste. "Why don't you go ahead and get ready, and I'll look for some tights."

Pomona shrugged. "You don't know how short it'll be on you until you try it on. I'll go in the bathroom, you try it on and see." Without another word, she slipped into the bathroom, leaving Minerva alone in a tornado-stuck chamber. Minerva left the dress she had formerly been wearing draped over the back of her desk chair, and had just picked up Pomona's when there was a knock at the door.

"Who the bloody hell wants to bother me now?" Minerva seethed, seizing a flannel dressing gown and tying the belt securely before calling "wait a moment!" as the knocks became still more insistent. With no small amount of annoyance, she answered the door, feeling she already knew who it was. "Oh, it's you," she said, opening the door a crack to behold Riddle, already dressed and very excited.

"Charming as always. Can I come in? It's too late, I'm already in, so say 'yes,'" he said, pushing past her and stepping into the room. "I need an accomplice."

"Tom! I'm not even dressed!"

Riddle gave her a once-over. "You look perfectly presentable. Odd choice of evening wear, though."

"It's a housecoat, moron."

"I don't care. Hurry up and wear something, because I want an accomplice and I'll be damned if you refuse me."

"Be damned then, because I have an hour and I can't get dressed, because a certain someone is in my room!" Minerva cried, whirling around and jabbing him in the chest with a pointed finger. "Ouch. What do you do in your spare time, lift?"

Riddle shrugged. "Irrelevant. But yes. Fine, I'll turn around, get dressed."

"Wha- what? God, no!"

"Is everything okay out there?" Pomona's voice called from the bathroom.

"Perfectly fine," the two called back in unison.

"Is Tom in here again?" Pomona asked. "Dear lord, Minerva, you need to draw a line somewhere."

"I always do!" Minerva said with frustration. "I can't help it if he always ignores them."

"You're being ridiculous," Riddle scoffed. "I'll turn around, just hurry up and get dressed." He sat on the bed with his back to her.

"I'M being ridiculous?" Minerva's eye twitched. "NO! Get out of my room!" She shoved him to the door with little difficulty, but once he stood in the open doorway, Riddle braced his arms against it and refused to budge. "Please move."

"I don't think so. You weren't very nice just then."

"Tom, I need to get ready. Move your lazy ass out of my doorway."

"Make me."

Minerva groaned in frustration, locked her self-respect in a corner of her mind for what she was about to do, and kissed him, taking him completely by surprise as she went at it with a disturbing lack of demureness and decency. The moment she felt his arms around her, she shoved him out of the room and slammed the door shut, locking it. "Thank you for leaving," she said in a mocking tone. "Most appreciated."

"What the hell is going on in there?" Pomona called.

"I can always unlock your door with magic, you know," Riddle shouted through the door, tremendously annoyed and a tiny bit impressed.

"If you do, I'll hex you into next year." Minerva hastily pulled on Pomona's dress, seized a pair of alarmingly high slingback peeptoe heels, a pearl necklace, earrings, and a chiffon wrap. "Pomona, I'll be back in a bit, I have to take care of something," she called, and hurried from the room, colliding with Riddle who was amusing himself by engraving a cat onto her door. Minerva stared. "Really, Tom?" she sighed. "Right then, why do you need an accomplice?" She untangled herself from him and started to step away.

"Hold on, let me look at you." He held her by her upper arms, taking in her appearance. An odd look came over his face. "God, you look beautiful." He eyed the length of her dress. "And just a tiny bit slutty."

"Oh shit," Minerva exclaimed, the moment lost. "I forgot stockings! Just a minute-"

"No! No, you don't need them. There's no time. Put on your shoes." As she did, Riddle began to explain his plan.

"I have the perfect revenge for Slughorn for the creeper-pictures. My office. Now." And without another word, they set off, Minerva trying to keep up in heels she was sincerely regretting putting on. By the time they reached his office, her hair had completely fallen out of its ponytail, her face was pink, and she was completely out of breath.

"What is so urgent that it couldn't wait for me to put on stockings?" Minerva snapped. "I don't want to look 'slutty.'"

"Wrong word choice, minette, do forgive me. I mean ravishing," Riddle said, seizing her elbow and leading her to a large cage. "I need you to help me attach this to the ceiling of Slughorn's office, and help me open it at precisely midnight." They stood together in silence for several minutes, necks craned back, as they gazed at the seven by ten foot cage. "What do you think?"

"How long will they stay...drugged like that?" Minerva asked, breathing finally back to normal.

"Until eleven-thirty, of course. They have to be wide awake for the... fireworks display."

"Won't they trash the place?"

"No, they're under the Imperious curse not to."

"Tom!" She stared at him. "That's illegal!"

Riddle shrugged. "So? It's for a good cause."

She scoffed. "Your amusement? And twisted desire for revenge?"

"Precisely."

She stared at the cage again. "And it'll be completely concealed?"

"Mmmm-hmmm."

"Suspended from the ceiling?"

"That is correct."

"We'll turn invisible, soundproof ourselves, and suspend the cage while the house elves and Slughorn are in the room, setting up?" She stared at the cage. "Bit risky."

"That is the plan, yes." He smirked. "A little excitement and risk of getting caught never hurt anyone."

"You're...brilliant. Completely evil and insensitive, but brilliant."

"Thanks, minette. That's the most sweet and accurate thing anyone has ever said to me."

"You realize of course I'm still pissed off at you for barging in on me like that."

Riddle chuckled. "I like it better when you're angry at me anyway." He looked at her. "That was some kiss."

"Distraction, Tom, nothing more."

"Whatever. Shall we gatecrash a party?"

"Let's."

They turned to look at one another. "You really do look terrific, Minerva. Wear your hair down more often."

"Only if you keep your hands out of it."

"I don't bargain," Riddle said, winding a lock around his finger. "Come along, ma belle mademoiselle. We have a party to ruin."

They arrived back at Minerva's room with fifteen minutes to spare, where they encountered an extremely annoyed Pomona, looking very pretty and twice as pissed off. "I spent forty-five minutes waiting for you to finish your urgent business," she snapped, "and I had to get dressed alone. By the way, Min, you look gorgeous. Can we go now?"

"I'm so sorry, Pomona," Minerva said guiltily. "I've already promised Tom two dances, but I'll stay with you for the rest of the night."

Pomona smiled. "That's not necessary. Half the night is more than enough. I want to dance too, you know."

"If you two are finished," Riddle said, "we can go." He offered Minerva his arm.

"Pomona, take his other arm," Minerva said. "Tom, it's this or..." she trailed off. "Damn. You're much more adept at needling me than I am for you."

Riddle rolled his eyes and proffered his arm. "If I hear anything from Slughorn about me being a cassanova, or something..."

"You'll what?" Minerva said sweetly. "Dispose of me in a fit of rage?"

Riddle gave her an odd smile. "Be careful what you wish for, ma minette."

New Year's Party

"Tom! Wonderful of you to show," Slughorn beamed, a ridiculous fez on his head. "And aren't you the cassanova! Minerva isn't enough for you, Tom?"

Tom shot Minerva a look. Something about his expression made Minerva feel unsettled. If looks could kill, she thought, she'd be dead by now. "Evening, sir," he said to Slughorn, charming as ever. "Minerva, you promised me a dance."

"You don't want to wait? We just got here."

Riddle pulled her aside. "Do you want further details in the plan, or not?"

"Excuse me," Minerva said to Slughorn and Pomona, allowing Riddle to lead her to the dance floor. "What'll it be?"

"I don't know, something inconspicuous, something that'll let us blend in." Riddle looked her over again. "I'm not sure how we'll ever blend in though, with you in that dress." He took one of her hands in one of his own, placing the other at the small of her back. "You really do look.."

"Slutty?" Minerva supplied sweetly, holding his shoulder.

"You're never going to forgive me that, are you?" Riddle sighed. "No, no. It's hard for me to say, considering I'm not used to saying that to many women and actually meaning it."

"Say what?"

"I can't say it, for fear of sounding cheesy," Riddle replied. "And I think you gather my meaning from that, minette."

Minerva flushed pink for the third time that day, shaking off her girlish delight and turning businesslike. "Let's foxtrot. Now fill me in," she said as they began to dance, noticing that Riddle appeared almost relieved at her change of subject. She found it endearing. As they danced, Riddle explained his plan in great detail, even going into the mechanics behind the magic used to execute it. She observed how his eyes grew brighter and how his face appeared incandescent when he talked about the spells, more than half of his own modification, and how genuinely happy he appeared when she asked a question that indicated she was following his line of thought and understood it thoroughly. She suspected he was often deprived of companions on his level intellectually, and felt irrationally pleased that she was perhaps one of the few who could at least understand him, even if she couldn't equal him. As they danced, his hold on her tightened, and he drew her closer, his hold almost possessive and his reluctance to let her go when the song ended.

"I don't want to stop," Riddle confessed as the dance ended. "I haven't had such a good conversation in..."

"Months?"

"Years," Riddle replied. "Ever, actually. Where were you, all through Hogwarts?"

"In the library, the Gryffindor common room, and the Quidditch field," Minerva answered. "We don't have to stop..."

"No, get back to Pomona. I can't keep you all to myself," Riddle told her, "no matter how much I'd like to right now."

"Well," she said, a bit awkwardly. She moved his hands from her waist. "The room certainly looks nice."

"Yes," he agreed, turning with her to observe the gold and silver decorations, the tiny 1952 lights, slowly illuminating as the new year drew closer, the couples dancing around them and the people milling around, and the cage, unseen by everyone. "It's almost a pity that it all must be destroyed."

"You aren't really going to destroy it," Minerva said, waiting for him to reply. "Tom. You're not, are you?"

"Of course not." He looked at her in silence for a few moments, and seemed to clear his head. "Go to Pomona, I have some things to take care of."

"All right," Minerva said, walking away feeling more than a bit confused.

Riddle found Slughorn after a brief look around the room and headed over, determined to be introduced to the head of the Department of Mysteries. "Ah, Tom!" Slughorn said. "Have I introduced you to Mr. Garrod? He's-"

"Head of the Department of Mysteries," Riddle said smiling, charming facade in place. "I've read in the papers, sir. Pleasure to meet you."

The elderly wizard shook his hand. "Is this the young man you were telling me about, Horace?"

Slughorn nodded. "Yes, this is he. He graduated top of his class, and I daresay he's still working on his own experimental magic, isn't that right, Tom?"

Riddle smiled modestly. "You could say that, Professor. I doubt I can come close to the work Mr. Garrod has done, naturally."

"Nonsense!" Slughorn boomed. "The man's a prodigy, Garrod. Why, he's clearly the best Hogwarts has ever seen! Minister of Magic, one day, you've heard it predicted here-"

Riddle smiled mechanically. "That's doubtful, sir, though flattering. I'm much to busy to be bogged down by politics."

Slughorn elbowed Garrod. "He's busy with his lady, is what he means."

Garrod gave Riddle a sympathetic pat on the arm. "Don't mind him, Mr. Riddle, he's naturally just.."

Slughorn shouted over them. Riddle wondered how many drinks he had imbibed. "Now Garrod, I'm just being honest!" He nudged Garrod and pointed at Minerva, talking with Pomona and another gentleman. "Tom, looks like you have competition."

Riddle shrugged, but was unable to look. "She's entitled to talk with whomever she wants. Now, Mr. Garrod..." Riddle was in his element, and it wasn't long before he had coaxed out what he was quite certain was confidential information after loosening up Garrod with several drinks of elf-made wine. He knew better than to overstay his welcome and amass suspicion, though, so he proceeded to work the room, effectively charming everyone he came in contact with -except Dumbledore, who he pointedly ignored- and more than once glancing around for Minerva. He checked his watch, and upon seeing it was eleven forty-five, he set off in pursuit. He found her chatting with the other professors near the punch, which he was quite convinced was spiked with champagne, and tapped her on the shoulder, setting down his scotch. "Surprise."

She turned, smiling. "Oh, hello. Is it midnight already?"

"Nearly." He found himself staring again, taking in her flushed face, tousled loose hair, and slim dress. It was surprisingly short for her, a full two inches above her knees, and the heels she wore only elongated her legs.

"Well?" she asked, placing her hand on his arm. "Are we going to do this, or not?"

"Of course," Riddle said, cursing himself for being so easily distracted. Offering her his arm, he led her to the area below the cage. "Remember, timing must be perfect."

"Of course."

"Since we have time to talk, who was the man you were talking with?" Riddle kept his voice casual.

"Oh, he's from the the Harpies quidditch team," Minerva explained. "Why?"

"A bit forward, wasn't he?" Riddle replied, examining his nails. "A bit drunk too, by his behaviour."

Minerva was stunned. "Are you.. jealous?"

"Certainly not."

"You are! You're jealous." She laughed, brushing his arm. "I knew it! Tom Riddle is human after all."

"All right, you've had enough fun," Riddle said, disgusted by his pitiful display of weakness. "Let's open the cage. Are the firecrackers ready?"

"Darling, calm down." Minerva was exultant. "And yes they are. Let's wait for the countdown."

"Fine by me."

As the seconds to midnight ticked by, the room became increasingly still and quiet. Someone took up the responsibility of counting down from ten, and the room chorused "Three! Two! ONE!"

"Now," Riddle whispered, and together they cried "Diffindo!" as the room burst into raucous cheers.

The cheers were cut short as the cage opened, unleashing a shower of of Cornish pixies armed with firecrackers, unleashing general mayhem and ruining the party. The tiny winged devils zipped around the room, setting off the fireworks and terrorizing the guests, faces contorted into expressions of unadulterated glee as they wrought mayhem on the unfortunates. Riddle high-fived Minerva, whispering "Mission accomplished," in a most satisfied tone.

"We should find Pomona and get out of here," she said, spinning around amidst the chaos. Riddle found himself thinking she made a very pretty picture.

"You find her," he said. "I'm going to go offer my help to Slughorn. Can't have him suspecting me..." and with that he was off.

"Good-bye," Minerva said, even though he was too far away and the room was too chaotic for him to have heard her. She rushed off to find Pomona, who was simultaneously panicking and dying of laughter.

"Which genius is responsible for this?" she cried. "It's twisted! It's evil! It's completely fantastic! Minerva, look out, there's a pixie behind you!"

Minerva whirled around and froze the pixie where it hovered, armed with a roll and a butter knife loaded with marmalade. "Okay, let's get out of here."

"Shouldn't we stay and help?" Pomona shouted over the noise. "Let's see if they need anything-"

"No, Tom and Dumbledore are helping Slughorn now. Tom's going to leave once they've sorted things out."

With that they ran from the room, joining the panicking herd of evacuating guests, students, teachers, and adults alike, but instead of waiting for the panic to sorted out so the party could resume, the went to Pomona's room as it was closest, slammed the door, and talked to each other about what the night had offered, all while Riddle heroically helped stop the chaos, slipping away amidst the slew of congratulations, reminded why he enjoyed what he did.

"And imagine," he told himself en route to his room, "there's more to come, on a much grander scale, once the Death Eaters take off."

A/N: DONE. Oh my god, this chapter was so DIFFICULT to write, but here it is, my present to you, hot off the presses! I was going to wait til New Year's to post, but I couldn't stop thinking about these chapters. The scene with jealous Voldy was a challenge from my good friend mewmewvern, so hope you're happy with it, dear. Anyway, be sure to leave a review as a present to me, because really, do you want me to endure a Christmas without presents?