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The Game

The talk with Orlando and Avalon did nothing but raise their suspicions that something was seriously wrong with Minerva. She avoided eye contact, she faked smiles, and to Avalon's distress turned down chocolate syrup for her ice cream. Minerva didn't care that they were unsatisfied with her responses. She was very much preoccupied with everything else going on.

"Bear with me," she finally said. "I'll be back to normal soon."

The quidditch game drew near again and the team seemed to be playing somewhat better. The chaser and the seeker found love elsewhere and the beater learned to keep his mind on the game. Minerva gave up on worrying about it. She had enough on her plate as it was.

She walked into the locker room already wearing her quidditch robes. The mood was intense and the tension was high, and on top of everything, it had just begun to rain.

"Okay everyone. This is it," Rab said, rubbing his hands together more from the cold than anything else. "The way I see it, we've been given a second chance to win this, so somebody out there is on our side." Minerva forced herself not to say "Grindewald" and kept listening.

"We are going to need complete concentration to succeed. I want you to put aside anything that is in your mind that does not start with 'quid' and end in 'itch'."

"Oh well, that's truly inspiring, Kilgore," Minerva said sarcastically.

Rab sent her a look of death and she put a hand over her mouth.

"You are a great group of individuals," he continued. "I want you to know that, whatever happens, I'm proud of you." Minerva rolled her eyes. She hated pep talks. Especially ones with gross sentimentalities and meaningless clichés.

"Now, go out there and show me a brilliant game of quidditch!"

The team rose and filed out to get their brooms. Rab grabbed Minerva's hand sympathetically and squeezed it once. She smiled and followed him out to the pitch. Her name was called and she soared out onto the field finding her place at the center ring. Professor Slughorn was refereeing. Rab and the Hufflepuff captain shook hands and Slughorn released the balls. Minerva quickly grabbed the quaffle and ducked under an opposing chaser for a fast goal. The crowd roared and Minerva shot a smug look at the keeper who looked completely bewildered. The rest of the game, however, did not go so smoothly.

A light rain quickly turned into a thunderstorm which soon turned into a thunderstorm of freezing rain and hail. The players were pelted with ice and water as they tried to dodge other players, bludgers, and anything else in their way. Professor Dumbledore cast a spell on the stands to keep the bystanders from receiving such a harsh dose of weather, but the players were forced to endure the elements.

Minerva could barely see a few feet ahead of her face. Her glasses were foggy and her wand was in the locker room, so she couldn't do anything about it. One of the Hufflepuff chasers sprinted towards the goalposts. He passed the quaffle rather clumsily, and Minerva surged forward to intercept it. She passed it to another chaser, who knocked it into the goal.

Minerva cheered for her teammate, but with her impaired vision was unable to see a bludger coming straight for her. It slammed senselessly into her shoulder and she flipped all the way over, nearly losing her seat. The crowd gasped. Rab darted forward, knocked the ball towards the Hufflepuff keeper, and grabbed her broomstick to keep her from falling.

"You okay?" he yelled over the storm.

Minerva gripped her arm and nodded while she attempted to suppress the telltale tears that were emerging from her eyes.

"I'll be fine," she assured him.

He patted her on the back and flew back to catch another bludger before it hit her again. She saw the seeker diving towards the ground and hoped that the game was almost over. Shaking off the searing pain in her shoulder, she flew forward and took the quaffle again.

The game dragged on. Two hours passed and there was no sign of the rain letting up or the snitch. Minerva's arm throbbed. Every minute or so, she had to remove her glasses and wipe them off on her wet robes. She was tired and she was wet and she was not having fun.

All of the sudden, her glasses cleared up. The rain didn't stop, but she could at least make out the other players. Someone had charmed them to repel water. She was unable to see into the stands to tell who, but it vastly improved her sight distance. Gryffindor slowly inched ahead as the score became 240-230.

Finally, after hours of exhaustion, the Gryffindor seeker captured the tiny snitch in her fingertips. They had won!

Minerva sank to the ground, bypassing the screaming crowd that had spread out onto the field and nearly collapsed in pain. Her shoulder was hanging at an odd angle, throwing off her balance. She walked into the locker room, grabbed her bag, and headed up for the hospital wing.

She was soon joined by Tom Riddle. "Good game, McGonagall," he called. "You might actually have a chance against us this year. Well, a chance to not make fools of yourselves at least. We'll win."

"Thanks for the encouragement, Riddle," she grumbled.

He caught up to her and saw the pain on her face. "Are you going to be all right? You don't look so good."

"If you must know, I'm on my way to the hospital wing. I think I might have broken my shoulder."

"You say that so calmly."

"I've had some time to think about it. It happened about two hours ago," she said bitterly. "Next practice we are working with that seeker. That was ridiculous. It was right in front of her a hundred times."

"Really? That many? I could have sworn it was only eighty-six times, but you had a better view than I did," he grinned.

Minerva raised her eyebrows. Was Tom Riddle joking around with her? It sure seemed like it.

"I was exaggerating."

"Exaggeration is a billion times worse than understatement."

He was! He was joking with her! What was happening? She must have gotten hit in the head or something. Maybe he had gotten hit in the head. This was just not possible.

Tom grinned. He seemed to have noticed the same thing.

"Tom, that makes no sense."

"It was a joke. Do you need me to explain it to you?"

"Of course not." Minerva grinned. "I don't think I've ever seen this side of you Tom."

"Really? I would actually say that my profile looks the best if you're on my right."

"That's not what I meant. You just seem so - happy. I find it interesting that it happens to be when I'm in excruciating pain."

Tom's face fell. "Does it really hurt that bad? I can run and get someone if you want to stay here." Minerva shook her head and kept walking. "I know what it feels like," Tom continued. "When I was at the orphanage, I broke my arm a few times. Of course, it always healed itself. The nurse there hated me. She said I was an enigma."

"I'd forgotten you were an orphan," Minerva murmured softly, more to herself than to Tom.

Tom scoffed ruefully. "If only. My father's still alive - somewhere. After he left my mum to die, decided to forget about me to. It was probably better that way. I probably would have killed him."

Minerva raised her eyes to see if he was kidding. The hatred that filled them left her unsure.

They walked on in silence for a while as they approached the steps up to the castle.

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt to much?" Tom asked with concern.

"It hurts Tom, but I think I'll live."

"I just wanted to make sure."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and they walked up the steps. When they reached the top, Minerva gently pressed her hand on his shoulder to stop him. It began to rain harder.

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for being so nice to me lately. It's one less thing that I have to worry about. I know that you don't like me and that you probably never will, but I am glad that you respect me."

Tom looked down at his feet. "We made a deal. I was keeping my end of it."

"Well, I appreciate it. Thanks."

Tom frowned. "I don't back out on my deals. I do have some sense of moral decency."

Minerva stopped. "I never said you didn't."

"Yes you did. That day in the hall after we got into that row over Dumbledore."

"Well, I'm sorry I said that. You've changed. I've noticed."

"Maybe I didn't change. Maybe you changed your perception of me."

Minerva placed her hands on her hips. "Do you really want to argue about this?"

"I'm just tired of you thinking that I'm such a scoundrel! Aside from teasing and the occasional disagreement here and there, I've always been a perfect gentleman to you and your friends."

"Occasional disagreement?" she asked incredulously. "Perfect gentleman? You call the way you acted in the library that day gentlemanly conduct? I thought you were going to - "

"What? What did you think I was going to do?" Tom yelled in her face. The rain continued to pour down around them both. "Did you think I was going to strike you? Is that it? That I was going to hex you or curse you or, Merlin forbid, ruin your reputation of being little miss perfect?" He took a step closer and Minerva stood her ground in defiance. Tom's voice softened, "Or were you afraid of something else?"

He lifted her chin with one of his long fingers and stared into those fathomless brown eyes.

"What?" Minerva was shaking.

"Were you afraid that I was going to…" he paused. His face was so close to hers. She took in his handsome features, his dark hair plastered from the rain. Her breath quickened. She could feel her heartbeat pounding and she was sure he heard it. He leaned in. She ducked just in time as Dumbledore appeared through the trees right behind them. Tom scowled and took a step away from her.

They waited for the elderly, yet spry professor to catch up and Minerva could tell he was analyzing the situation. They had been standing very, very close and she was fairly certain that Tom's aim in leaning down was not to check to see if her lips were blue from the cold. She fidgeted nervously and could feel the heat rising to her cheeks.

"Is it broken?" Dumbledore asked.

Minerva nodded. "I think so. Tom was concerned and was making sure I got up to the hospital wing."

"Thank you Tom. I can take her from here." Dumbledore paused. "Unless, you'd rather see her up yourself. You are, after all, going to be working with each other and I'm happy to see that you are getting along so well."

Tom hung his head and shot Minerva a look. She knew he could see right through her. She had been scared to death that he was going to kiss her. She would have backed away even if Dumbledore hadn't shown up.

"Go ahead, Professor," said Tom bitterly. "I still need to finish my homework for Monday. I hope you feel better, McGonagall." With that he stalked off.

Dumbledore sent her a knowing look and helped her into the castle. "Please remember the task at hand, Minerva."

"I will," she said quickly. "I mean, I already do. I am completely focused."

She knew that was a lie and she knew that the expression on her face was screaming that very thing.

"Very well, Miss McGonagall." Dumbledore patted her on the shoulder that was intact. "I'm just urging you to tread lightly. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you. Please keep me aware of what you discover."

"I will, sir. I promise."

Minerva wished that there was a way to shut off her mind. So many things were running through it that she felt nauseous. At least the game was over. That was something.

She walked into the Hospital Wing.

"It's broken, Minerva," Poppy said without even examining the girl.

"I know."

"You should have come earlier. Does it hurt?"

"What do you think?" Minerva snapped. Poppy jumped and walked into the back to consult Madame DeMedici on the best course of action to treat her. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and left the room.

Minerva leaned back onto a bed and tried not to think about the pain that was nearly blinding her. She knew the absence of her quidditch worries were going to do little to ease her overall suffering. No news had come concerning her father. He was still missing. They weren't close, but still - he was missing. Poppy returned and began mending the arm with her lips pursed.

"I'm sorry I snapped, Poppy. It isn't the most pleasant thing. You're right. I should have come right away."

Poppy sighed and gave her a sympathetic look. "You'll be good as new in a few minutes. Hold still and relax."

Relax? This was Minerva McGonagall. Relaxing was just not an option.