The Plan

Minerva entered the Great Hall the next morning, accompanied by an incredibly giggly Avalon Figg. Her obsession with everything shocking was wearing on Minerva's nerves after six years of constant exposure to it.

"Spill, Min," she said taking Minerva's hand and shaking it. "You weren't back until eleven o'clock last night. I know you were out with someone." Avalon flipped Minerva to look seriously into her face. "Was it Matthias?" Her eyes sparkled.

Minerva muttered something under her breath about associating with half-wit Hufflepuffs, but Avalon ignored her.

"It was him, wasn't it? Oh, Min, I'm so happy for you!"

"Avalon, have you ever considered that perhaps my rounds took a bit longer than usual? There was a highly suspicious number of second years snogging in the broom closet, okay?" Avalon look slightly disappointed and Minerva walked by her to sit at the Gryffindor table.

"Are you sure it wasn't…"

"There was no boy, Avalon!"

Avalon took the seat next to her and grabbed a napkin.

"That's not what I heard from Susie Jenkins," Orlando Hoff said teasingly, leaning across Minerva to grab a platter of rolls. "She said that she saw you with…"

"Are you in the habit of believing silly, hormonal fourteen-year-old girls, Hoff?" Minerva interrupted angrily. "Because if you are, you can go sit at the end of the table with them."

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Avalon whispered loudly. She rubbbed Minerva's shoulder's soothingly.

"Which one, Minerva? The left side or the right side?" Orlando joked.

"It's a figure of speech, Hoff," she seethed.

Orlando and Avalon fell silent for a few moments and began eating.

"So who's the mystery man?" Avalon asked, leaning behind Minerva to talk to Orlando.

"Don't say anything," Minerva warned. She pointed her fork in his direction.

Orlando motioned with his head towards the Slytherin table. Avalon's eyes opened wide.

"Tom!" she exclaimed in astonishment.

Minerva groaned. "Orlando!"

Orlando grinned. "I didn't say a word, Minerva."

Avalon looked as if she was near having convulsions. "I don't think I can handle this, Min. I mean, one day you're hexing each other into oblivion, and the next you're…"

"Don't say it, Avalon."

Avalon raised her arms dramatically. "Lovers!"

Minerva put her head down on the table. She was certain that everyone at the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables had heard the proclamation. It was only a matter of time before -

"I've been hearing some very interesting things about our interactions last night, Miss McGonagall."

Minerva froze. "You too?" she asked sheepishly, not turning to look at him.

"I suppose I would like to know how you were able to change a duel into a romantic tryst, but you always have had a way with…transfiguration,"he hissed. Minerva jumped slightly, desperately thinking of a comeback and hoping that they weren't drawing too much attention. She realized by the looks on the faces across from her that she had no such luck.

"Perhaps I've realized why you took so much time getting ready for rounds. It seems my suspicions last night weren't so unfounded as you thought."

Minerva rolled her eyes and spun to face him. "If you are going to make fun of me, do it, but do it correctly. You are mixing two different things. Your suspicions were that I loved you. The rumor was the thing that was unfounded. You're confusing the two." Tom's mouth fell open. "Really, Tom, for someone who is supposed to be so smart, you don't pay very much attention to detail."

Tom sent her a murderous glare and walked back to his table. Minerva realized that she had been holding her breath the entire time he had been standing there. She let it out slowly.

Orlando and Avalon both stared at her.

"Are you both satisfied now?" she asked. They nodded and went back to their breakfasts. Minerva had gotten through her first few bites when a shadow darkened her place setting.

"Miss McGonagall, I'd like to speak to you in my office."

Minerva's eyes widened and she glanced around at the Slytherin table, specifically Tom Riddle. By the triumphant look on his face, he'd heard. He whispered something to Titus Avery who laughed loudly. She turned to face Albus Dumbledore and swallowed.

"Is anything wrong sir?" she asked tentatively.

"No, not really; however, there are a few things I wish to discuss with you." Dumbledore smiled kindly down at Minerva causing her more worry than relief. "Do you have time before your next class?" She nodded slightly and followed him to his office.

Dumbledore sat down and stared over his half-moon spectacles at the girl opposite him. She shifted a bit nervously in her seat.

"You were there last night, weren't you," she said softly.

Dumbledore grinned. "Brilliantly perceptive as always Miss McGonagall. Now, are you going to tell me what that all was about?" Minerva avoided his gaze, trying to maintain the stern expression that generally occupied her face. "Do you mean to tell me, Miss McGonagall, that you punched Mr. Riddle rather smashingly, if I do say so myself, on the nose for no reason? That you actually gain pleasure from causing someone to suffer with no provocation whatsoever?"

Minerva's cheeks flushed. She knew that Dumbledore's aim was to get her to talk, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he already knew. It was impossible that he had not overheard some of their conversation.

"He was teasing me about being late for my rounds, Professor," she finally said.

Dumbledore leaned across the desk.

"I have the feeling that was not the only thing he was teasing you about, Minerva."

Minerva made an effort to conceal her face as she blushed more.

"Why Miss McGonagall. I don't believe I've ever seen your cheeks a more brilliant color scarlet. They do very little to cause me to believe you are telling me the truth. Now let's have it out and I'll see what I can do."

"Well," Minerva began, "he was giving me grief about being a teacher's pet because of the apprenticeship. I think he is a bit sore about not being asked himself. He is quite fond of transfiguration, you know. I suppose that's about it."

Dumbledore stared out the window thoughtfully.

"Professor, he's a bully, that's all. Don't worry about me. You have your hands full as it is." Her voice faltered slightly. "These are dark times."

Dumbledore turned to look at her. "You haven't seen Mr. Riddle involved in anything out of the ordinary lately, have you?"

"No sir." Minerva looked at him fearfully. "You suspect something don't you?"

He nodded sadly.

"You don't think he could be involved with Grindewald or anything terrible like that, do you?"

"Frankly, Miss McGonagall, I would be surprised by very little right now. As you said, these are dark times." He walked around the side of his desk in thought. "I've done my best to warn the headmaster that Mr. Riddle is hiding something, but he seems quite enraptured with the boy. To his credit, the boy's brilliant, but something doesn't quite hold together. You can get closer to him than I ever could. Will you keep an eye out for me?"

"Me?" Minerva whispered incredulously. "You do realize that we've an unwritten pact to loathe each other for the rest of eternity! How am I supposed to get close to him? You saw for yourself what happens when we get close."

Dumbledore chuckled slightly. "Yes, indeed I did. I do think, however, that you would have luck if you approached him academically rather than socially. I'm quite certain that he does research on his own, if his library registry is any indication. You might try finding common ground in that."

Minerva could hardly believe this was happening. She had been pulled into her Head of House's office for fighting, only to be asked to make friends with the person she fought with. It almost didn't seem fair.

"What happens if I do find out something?"

"You'll tell me."

"And then what? Suffer his wrath?"

"Perhaps." Dumbledore shook his head in slight amusement. "Minerva, I don't believe I've ever seen you this irrational before. Think about what you are saying."

Minerva fumed. "I'm never irrational. You're telling me to willingly put myself at risk and I have the feeling you are not telling me the whole story."

"You will be fine, Miss McGonagall. You are a very good judge of character."

"I already know his character, Professor. He's a pompous, self-centered, Slytherin who only cares about pushing his way to the top. That's not what you're asking me to discover."

"True, but I promise I will there the entire time. I have more eyes in this school than you could ever comprehend."

Minerva glanced at the paintings flanking the walls of his office in understanding.

"Okay," she conceded.

"Thank you, Miss McGonagall. You continue to show yourself to be an incredibly reasonable young woman." He held out a small, silver canister with a twinkle in his eyes. "Lemon drop?"

After politely declining Dumbledore's exorbitant selection of muggle candy, Minerva stumbled out of his office and headed straight to her next class hoping for something to get her mind back in order. Advanced potions, unfortunately, was not on the list of things that were going to make her day any better. She grudgingly descended down to the dungeons and sat through Slughorn's class imagining possible outcomes of befriending Tom Riddle. Three stood out in her mind. The first, she found out that he was bad and he killed her. The second, she didn't find out anything and he killed her. The third, however, was perhaps the most disconcerting of all - but there was no use dwelling on it. Nothing like that would ever happen.