A/N: Hey all! I know I'm usually much more prompt with my updates, but alas, these past two weeks have been hellish. Anyway. I suggest that everyone read my "Interview with a Dark Lord" fic, because it gives a beautiful rationale for all you shippers out there who say "Damn it, my ship is canon. We just need historical evidence." I speculate about it extensively. Anyway, I'm sure you're more interested in what happens next in the story, so I'll shut up soon. Thank you to Sachita, Sherbet, Sarah, and Aquitane for the lovely, morale-boosting reviews. I tossed in some romance for y'all too, so.. yeah. It's pathetic that writing romance for my own ship squicks me out so much... but I hope you like it. I also lost the humor for a bit.. I promise the next one will be more funny! Now, on to the fic!
Dumby's Office
"And he's just the cutest little critter," Hagrid was saying in earnest as Minerva slipped into the headmaster's office. She smiled fondly. Hagrid had been a third year during her sixth at Hogwarts, and was expelled after Tom had discovered his pet acromantula was responsible for the attacks. She had always felt the sentence had been too harsh, but Hagrid had always held a special place in his heart for dangerous animals, so the proceedings were only natural, though unfortunate.
"Rubeus, with your current menagerie, do you honestly need permission to introduce a bunny into the mix?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling. "By all means, keep Fluffy. But try and think of a more creative name, will you? I think Fluffy suits a more fierce animal... perhaps a three-headed dog, should you ever acquire one." Minerva knocked on the door frame. "We're all finished, Hagrid. Minerva, come in."
"Thank yeh, Perfessor Dumbledore," Hagrid said, beaming. "'Ello, Minerva."
"Morning, Rubeus," Minerva returned, smiling. As the door closed behind him she remembered her reason for being there, and her smile faded.
"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered.
"No, Albus." She was starting to see the basis of Tom's annoyance with Dumbledore and his accursed sherbet lemons. "Okay, first off, I glimpsed Tom's notes for his seventh year lecture, and don't quote me on this, but it looks like he's teaching evisceration of some sort, through dark magic."
"That's very serious, Minerva," Dumbledore said gravely. "Find out for sure before you say anything further. Anything else? You were quite pink at dinner yesterday."
"Sort of," she said, calmly for once after Tom's repeated admonishing and constant advice on how to remain cool under Dumbledore's piercing gaze. "He has the most hideous scar on his arm and I swear I've seen that before, and..." She frowned. "He seemed most unwilling to talk about it, and was very touchy about me trying to feel it, much less investigate."
"A scar?" Dumbledore asked, excited. "Could you draw it, perhaps?" Minerva shrugged and drew the mark as best as she could in the air with her wand. Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "That mark has been connected to the Death Eaters, an organization I have ample reason to believe Tom is extensively connected. Others, I think, involved in the group would be-"
"Yaxley, Dolohov, Black, and probably anyone else in the Three Broomsticks with him that afternoon," Minerva said thoughtfully. "But..."
"Minerva, the fact that he's been so careless about you finding out worries me," Dumbledore interrupted. "Tom isn't careless to this extent. I think he wants you to join him."
Minerva laughed. "That's completely absurd. I'm quite fond of him, and I think he feels the same, but it's practically been established between us that neither will quit being stubborn long enough to let the other gain any bit of influence. You needn't be so worried," she said lightly. "I knowhe's up to something, and he'd rather have me as an ally instead of an antagonist. But more likely than not it's trivial school things he has in mind. And," she said, her face softening a bit, "I think he's very sweet to me in the most unromantic way, far more sweet than he can ever be when he's deliberately romantic, and he doesn't realize it." She shrugged again. "But hey, if you want me to get information on these 'Death Eaters' by acting like I want to join or something, I'll play the part." She didn't notice concern enter his face after her comments on Tom.
"Don't feel like you have to on my behalf," Dumbledore warned. "If it's too much of me to ask of you, let me know now."
Minerva's mouth compressed to a thin line in irritation. "Of course I feel obligated. And of course I'll do as you ask, Albus. But stop faking concern about your assignments cutting into my...relationship with Tom. You aren't too preoccupied about it and you can quite your pretending."
Dumbledore stood, unsettled by her incorrect interpretation of his admonishment. "Minerva, forgive me. I in no way meant to imply-"
"It's fine." She forced a smile. "Just trust me with this. Really," she added in earnest, "I appreciate the concern. But treat me more as a friend, rather than a daughter." She tipped her hat. "Shall I get a lemon drop, as a token of our friendship?"
Dumbledore smiled back. "Take the whole tin." He patted his stomach. "I'm afraid I need to go on a diet."
She laughed, relieved that there was no animosity between them. "Lovely. I'll go invite myself to that Death Eater meeting; Tom's class should be nearly over," she called over her shoulder, heading off to the defense classroom. "Through any means necessary," she muttered to herself, once in the hall.
In his office, Dumbledore frowned. Lowther the toucan hadn't returned from his reconnaissance in Tom's class. He hoped the foolish bird hadn't entered the class...he wouldn't stand a chance if he had.
Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom
Riddle had it all planned out. Sure, it was very likely that there was a better way to let her know of his impressive Dark Lord status -and it was likely more straightforward- but this way would be so much more fun. She'd feel special and superior if she thought she had wormed information out of him, but if he were completely in his right mind, she wouldn't believe it. No, better to appear intoxicated, and let something slip. And of course she'd go telling Dumbledore, who would encourage her to find out more, and thus effectively send her into his conniving arms. He would be very discouraged if she hadn't already told the headmaster about the Dark Mark; he'd rather she hadn't seen it in the way she had, but since memory charms were out of the question he'd have to just go with it and play it to his advantage. These thoughts on his mind, he ceased his pacing and stood behind the desk.
And Lowther flew in through the open window.
"Hello, Mr. Riddle."
"ProfessorRiddle," he corrected, turning to dock points from the errant student for such insubordination! only to find it wasn't a student at all. "Gordon Lowther!" His wand was in his hand instantaneously, and the killing curse was forming on his lips when his students entered at a most inopportune moment, forcing him to casually run his wand hand through his hair, feigning nonchalance.
"Afternoon," he said smoothly, bolting the windows and door with a flick of his wand. "Take your seats." There was the general commotion as the seventh years settled into their desks, all except Eustacia Edgecomb, who remained standing, looking curiously at the bird. Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask...Riddle mentally commanded her, but of course...
"Professor, why is there a toucan in our class?"
"Why are you still standing?" he returned coldly. "Take your seat, Miss Edgecomb." The girl blushed and sat. A lovely idea dawned on him then. "How much exposure have you had with evisceration?" He jerked his head in the direction of a most unpleasant poster of a man who appeared to be turned inside out, his organs all visible and in sharp relief. The room fell completely silent. "It isn't strictly...orthodox magic, but a discipline worthy of learning. I think you will find the practice invigorating. You see," he continued, "when dealing with the Dark Arts, the best form of defense is often a powerful offense." He stopped, facing Abraxas Malfoy. "When dealing with a force as unpredictable, versatile, and malleable -the force being magic, of course- to generalize magic, or to typify it, so to speak, by relegating it to the 'good' bracket or the 'evil' bracket, is akin to stunting necessary research for progress. With magic," he said slowly, "there can never be good nor evil, only the manipulation of energy... in other words, power. Yes," he said, raising his voice, "the typifying of magic by those too weak in resolve to comprehend this is what has made my... spiel a novel concept." He walked back to his place behind the desk, every eye fixed upon him. He knew his delivery had intrigued the students, and that they were a bit hesitant yet still overwhelmingly eager to try the most seductive kind of magic -the Dark arts. "Are there any...questions?" he asked softly. Not a single hand was raised. "Excellent," he murmured. "And," he added, a malicious idea striking him, "since a human volunteer is out of the question, the toucan can be my subject for...demonstration."
"Sir!" a Ravenclaw girl exclaimed without thinking. "That's-"
"Remember to raise your hand, Miss Flume," Riddle said dismissively. "Now-"
"Sir," a Slytherin interrupted, hand in the air, "she's uncomfortable with-" the girl whispered in his ear rapidly- "'animal cruelty,' sir."
Riddle's lip curled with cold amusement at the girl's softness as he walked over to her desk, leaning his weight against it. "Miss Flume," he said gently, charmingly dangerous facade in place, "you needn't worry. Lowther the toucan is just a transfigured doorknob."
Lowther gulped.
"Let's have fun with this, shall we?" he murmured, a hard edge returning to his voice. A cruel smirk twisted his handsome features, and he tightly maneuvered his wand in a spiral, the incantation leaving his lips.
A terrible keening filled the room as the bird dropped to the desk, legs unable to support it once sheets of pain enveloped its body. A long incision bloomed across the front of Lowther's torso, staining the feathers with his dark blood. The shrieking increased in intensity as the unfortunate toucan's skin and muscular tissue was peeled back, his pulsating organs slick in the eerie lighting of the classroom. Riddle spiraled the wand in the opposite direction, and with a quick murmur of "finite incantatem" the spell ended, Lowther restored to his previous condition. Riddle stared at the class intently. "Begin. As you can see, he came to no harm." Lowther trembled, clearly unconvinced. The class practiced in turns, some more proficient than others, the seventh year Flume among the most hesitant. Riddle was sure to be careful with his criticism, keeping it specifically geared to what each student would benefit most from. Abraxas' turn finally came.
"Abraxas," he muttered, "Will you be joining your father at Cygnus' tonight? Decently done," he added, raising his voice, "but there is no delicacy in your touch. You forget you wield a wand, not a cleaver."
Abraxas' ears turned a faint pink. "Sorry, sir," he muttered. "I don't think so, not on a school night," he murmured in a lower voice. "But I do want to join once school lets out."
"Good," Riddle replied softly. "Only five minutes are left, I suggest you start wrapping up." He addressed the class at large.
He hadn't expected the doors to burst open before he had a chance to dispose of the evidence of Dark Magic in his classroom.
"Tom," Minerva said, sweeping into a surprised class of seventh-year Defense Against the Dark Arts students, "I need to talk with you."
"Minerva!" Riddle exclaimed, quite shocked. He opened the windows with magic, and Lowther couldn't have flew away more quickly. "Can't this wait? They're learning about-"
"I think myneeds are more important than theirs right now, Mr. Riddle," she retorted, seizing the front of his shirt. "You'd do well to remember that." She felt her ears heat as the class tittered, clearly interpreting her remark differently than she had intended.
"Minerva, there are students present," Riddle said, still shocked but not at all displeased. "Wait for me to-"
"Class dismissed," Minerva said with the finality she would later become famous for, and the students happily -and a bit fearfully- gathered up their books and hastily fled the classroom ten minutes early.. All of them, that is, except Eustacia Edgecomb and two of her friends. "Is there a problem, Miss Edgecomb?"
"Sir," the girl said sweetly, ignoring Minerva and addressing Riddle directly, "you never had a chance to give us our assignment since the class was... interrupted." She tossed her brown curls over her shoulder.
"What's the point?" Riddle asked carelessly. "The rest of the class won't know what it is, so I see very little point to it now. And for one so eager for an assignment, Miss Edgecomb, your own have been rather substandard." His lip curled as she flushed pink. "But you're welcome to give me an essay on the merits of turning a corpse into an animated host for a dark-"
"Tom!" Minerva sputtered. "What the hell are they learning?" Her eyes widened as she took in the classroom more fully for the first time since her entry, his desk stained with a good deal of regenerated toucan-blood.
"Purely theoretical, darling," Riddle said hurriedly, his hand straying to her hair to silence her for the time being. "Well, Edgecomb?"
The girl and her friends exchanged looks of glee upon seeing something that had furthered their appetites for intrigue. Yes, a few rumors had circulated about McGonagall and Riddle seeing one another, but this pretty much solidified all those rumors into a cohesive truth. Infatuated though she may be with the handsome professor, she was smart enough to see it as a passing fancy, nothing more, and she decided it would be enough to see the two teachers as a couple instead. After all, they were adorable together!
"I'll be going then, sir." She made no effort to conceal her smile. "Come on, girls." She gathered her bag and linked arms with one of her friends. "Professor, you have him all to yourself... so your 'needs' can be met..." She felt quite daring as she voiced it, maintaining a fairly straight face as her friend dissolved into giggles, exclaiming "Stacy, I can't believe you saidthat!" in disbelief.
Riddle smiled sardonically as Minerva flushed angrily. "Calm down, ma minette. Don't dock points for a bit of fun." He pulled her up to him. "She's right, after all. Why else couldn't you wait to see me...?"
"I think they need a spot of privacy," Eustacia Edgecomb managed, working very hard to keep a straight face. "Come on, ladies..." They staggered away, peals of laughter ringing from the hallway once the door slammed shut.
"Typical teenage girls," Riddle chuckled, putting his papers in order. "What do you have in mind, Minerva? Shall we go to my room? I certainly didn't expect this of you so early-"
"Tom!" she exclaimed. "Getting overeager, aren't you? I actually want to talk to you about something very serious. I just used poor phrasing is all."
"I'd call it a Freudian slip, myself," he said, kissing her temple. "What do you want to talk about?"
She pushed him away and narrowed her eyes, mind back on track. "Right. What's this I hear about the Death Eaters?"
Riddle shrugged. "Been checking up on me with Dumbledore? Oh, I forgot, he's Albus to you now." He looked at her sharply. "You're not spying on me for him, are y-"
"Darling," she interrupted smoothly, pushing him against the wall and playing with his collar, hastily trying to distract him. "Don't be jealous of an old man."
Riddle could clearly see what she was getting at. He leaned his forehead against hers. "Of course not, ma minette. Why are you asking about them?"
Minerva stood on tiptoes, bracing herself against his shoulders. "Shall we say I'm...intrigued?" she lied convincingly, fixing her eyes on his parted lips so she wouldn't have to make eye contact. She was well aware of his Legilimency prowess by now.
"Intrigued?" Riddle breathed, snaking his arms around her. "Go on."
"I want to know," she murmured, gently lifting his left arm up to their eye level, "what this is for." She kissed the Dark Mark lightly, almost teasingly. She smiled at him through her lashes when she felt a tremor pass through him. "And I suspect," she whispered, pressing herself against him even more, "that it has something to do with the Death Eaters."
"You should have been a Slytherin," Riddle said throatily, extricating his wrist from her hand and pulling her up for a kiss. "Why don't you join me at Cygnus' tonight? You can meet them."
Minerva let her eyes flutter shut, feeling Riddle go to work along her neck. "Will I find out what exactly they arethough?" she asked, her hands pulling him closer.
"Maybe." Riddle was impressed. Sure, her acting left a lot to be desired, but it would fool the ordinary man –and he was anything but ordinary- and who was he to pass up an excuse to enjoy Minerva like this? He was certain now that Dumbledore knew his intentions towards Minerva, and had warned her about it. It was also certain that he had put her up to becoming a double agent, so he'd have an inside track to what his Death Eaters would be up to. He would have an easier time getting her to become a Death Eater since technically Dumbledore wanted her to go through with it, and he could always manipulate her feelings for him to the point that she wouldn't report everythingto Dumbledore. Hell, if he could extract a confession of love from her, he'd be completely in the clear and he wouldn't have to worry about her spying on him. But until then..
"I can't have you running to Dumbledore and telling on me," he finished, pulling her head back. Her eyes opened slowly.
"Hmmm." She ignored his last. "When will we leave?"
"After your last class for the day," he replied. "Which is..."
She frowned, thinking. "Four o' clock, I think."
"Perfect," he said, letting go of her. "I'll be in my room. By the way," he said, a smile curling the corners of his mouth upwards, "what's this I hear about you being an organist?"
Minerva rolled her eyes. "My father was a minister. Of course I know organ, I played in church."
"Can you play a piano, then? I imagine they aren't very different."
"I could try," she said, shrugging. "Why do you ask?"
"Cygnus has a Steinway grand," Riddle explained. "I want them all to see how you make them pale in comparison."
"'Them' being the Death Eaters?" she asked sweetly. "Careful, Mr. Riddle, or I'll start to think you're showing me off."
"Who in his right mind wouldn't?" Riddle asked charmingly. "Go on, I have another class coming in momentarily."
Suddenly she remembered. "Wait! That bit about the essay! What all are you teaching the-"
"Another story for another time, ma minette!" Riddle said, sweeping to the door. "I'll tell you later."
"No, tell me n-"
"Certainly not, darling," Riddle said loudly and airily, holding the door ajar.
"Just tell-"
"Well, if you insist, I will," Riddle said theatrically with a flourish, slamming the door, shoving her into the doorway and kissing her til she was quite breathless. She felt the wood grate between her shoulder blades and his hands slipping lower. "But not now. At Cygnus' house," he whispered, pulling away abruptly as she inhaled deeply, a hand on her stomach.
"Are you trying to suffocate me?"
Riddle smirked. "Never. Now leave, I have a class and you probably do too."
"I'll meet you in your office at four-thirty, we'll floo."
"Perfect. And leave your hair down."
"Certainly not. You don't get one bit of attention from me til you tell me what you're teaching them."
"I won't tell you what I'm teaching them until you...attend to me." He frowned. "That didn't sound quite right.."
"I can hold out longer."
"No, I think you'll find I'm terribly patient when I want to be, ma minette. Now run along to your next class."
If anything, Minerva decided as she left, this gave Dumbledore's theory a good bit of weight. He was too relaxed, even eager, when he found out that she knew about his organization. And there was that bit about teaching his students evisceration by magic, by the looks of things. Things were not in his favor, if he wanted to stay in her good books, and yet... she had a sneaky feeling that she would be the first to cave. Minerva's sneaky feelings had not been wrong yet, but she found herself hoping that there was a first time for everything.
Minerva's classroom
"Oh, Pomona, I'm so glad you've come," she said, throwing her arms around the plump witch. "Dear, you need to dust yourself off after the greenhouses... I'm meeting Tom in ten minutes."
"Things are getting serious then? It's a school night."
Minerva twisted her hair up again, securing it with a clip. "Yes, but Tom is part of an assignment and a relationship at this point. It's very complicated, though he would say otherwise... I'll tell you all about it once I get back. Which will very likely be late."
Pomona sighed. "Min, don't you think you're getting involved with Tom a bit quickly? You're usually so demure with men, and here you are, already barging into his classes-"
Minerva held up a hand. "Whoa. I had just found out something extremely important pertaining to my assignment, and the dramatic entrance was necessary. I mean, if I were to sidle up to him afterwards, and ask him about it sweetly, would he believe anything? He knows me well enough to know about my Scottish temper. Wait," she snapped suddenly, "how do you know I barged into his class?"
Pomona looked sympathetic. "I had Slytherin and Ravenclaw seventh years for herbology just now, and they were talking about it. Seems to me your little romance with Professor Riddle is quite a hit with the students... though some conspiracy theorists think it's a huge, mind-effing joke." She chortled. "'Mind-effing,' I ask you. Kids these days." She sighed. "We're just in our twenties, and our slang already seems out-dated."
"C'est la vie, Pomona," Minerva said with a shrug. "Do I look all right?"
"When do you notlook all right?" Pomona scoffed. "Tell me what you find out, will you? I'm spending the evening with Poppy since you won't be joining us. See you tomorrow, Min."
Minerva blushed. "I'm notspending the night-"
"Oh, dear, you're too easily embarrassed!" Sprout patted her arm. "I'll be asleep before you get back, most likely. I didn't mean you two were...Wait. Horace told me..."
"Slughorn's full of shit," Minerva said, willing her cheeks to lose their color. "I fell asleep grading papers. Except I was in his room."
Pomona laughed. "I'm teasing, dear. Relax. Go have fun, it's nearly four-thirty. And tell me everything!" She wrinkled her nose. "Except anything I may not want to hear."
"Okay."
"Like whatever it is you two do together during those long, nocturnal, tete-a-tete-"
"Goodbye, Pomona dearest." Minerva swept out of the room.
Riddle was still wondering what exactly Dumbledore had told her about the Death Eaters. He was also a bit childishly disappointed that he wouldn't get to carry out his needlessly complicated plan. Oh well. He had an immortality of that before him. Minerva interrupted his reverie by bouncing into his office, smiling winningly in a simple tartan frock. "Oh dear God," Riddle groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Tartan. Damnable, damnable, man-repelling tartan."
Minerva twirled delightedly so her skirts would stand out. "Like it? I thought I'd make things easy for the both of us."
Riddle sighed. "At least you're as radiant as ever, even if your clothing is...questionable." He offered his arm. "Shall we?"
"Certainly." She hesitated. "Would you mind terribly if we Apparate instead?" She winked. "I don't want to get any soot on my 'man-repelling' tartan."
"Very well," Riddle conceded. "And if we're spotted on the grounds, leaving together?"
"Oh, it'll be fine," she said, starting to kiss his cheek and pulling back once she remembered her bet. "So. We're going to a Death Eater meeting for our date."
"You could say that, yes."
"Fabulous." Their conversation carried them through the gates of Hogwarts, and fingers interlaced, they Apparated together.
A/N: I'm so sorry guys. This is going to have to be a two-parter. It was just getting so long-winded! I mean, it's eleven pages long, and written mostly in one sitting, and I'm tireeedddddd! Anyyyyyway. Hope y'all liked it! The date scene will be tomorrow. Leave a review too please!