My goodness. I think this is my magnum opus, my masterpiece, and it's the longest piece I've ever written. I wanted the story to end at a thousand words or so, but NO, that bloody thing had to tell me to sod off and continue writing itself.
It was so tiring that I shall now take a well-deserved break and go drink hot tea. Anyway, this is a TR/MM fic, and I am so proud of it that I don't have any words to describe it.
Enjoy!
Sipping Hot Tea
It was nearly one in the morning, but Professor McGonagall could not sleep. For some reason, she felt oddly agitated and nervous, and if she had been a cat, she would have been alternatively yowling the entire school awake, or scratching her best tartan sofa into bits. She had tossed and turned in her bed, tried counting kneazles, and even cast a Calming Charm on herself, but she simply could not drift off into that elusive land of dreams.
Finally, Professor McGonagall gave up, and got up to do something that would hopefully make her fall asleep quickly. She had classes early tomorrow, and it certainly would not do for her students to see her doze off in front of them! What would they say if they saw their teacher lose her stern facade for even a second? The reputation that she had built up painstakingly, year by year, would disappear into thin air in a single moment.
She eyed the tall stack of Transfiguration essays on her neat desk, half of them with a Dreadful or at least a Poor, and felt that she would throw up if she had to read one more messy, cramped word, or one more paragraph that rattled on about turning matches into needles requires intense concentration for a first year and so I have always been hopeless at this subject, and did not address the question of how the three golden laws of Transfiguration apply to even the most basic Transfiguration spell. No, marking papers was definitely out tonight. Then the professor thought of transforming into a cat and taking a run around the castle, but she remembered how badly Mrs. Norris had reacted to a 'fellow cat' the other time, and so crossed that out too.
In the end, she decided that she would simply make a nice steaming cup of tea, sit in front of her blazing fire, as that always been her trump card in the battle for peaceful sleep. With a muttered 'Incendio', the smoldering fire turned into a hearty one, and with another swish of her wand, a mug of tea appeared, along with a few cookies. She settled down on her sofa, staring at the fire, as she cupped her mug in both hands. Slowly, her thoughts began to drift, and landed, as they frequently did, on the upcoming war, and the man –monster- who had started all this.
When had she first met Tom Riddle? Oh, yes, it was on the Hogwarts Express, more than fifty years ago...
"All the other compartments are full," an eleven year-old Minerva told a boy as she levitated her heavy trunk behind her. "Mind if I sit here?"
The boy put down the book he was engrossed in, and Minerva was momentarily struck by how handsome he was, even at eleven. "No-" he started to say, but he caught sight of her trunk floating in mid-air. "All right, then, but you must tell me about magic. I'm starting school this year."
It was only then that she noticed the slightly bewildered look he had, and realized that he must be a muggle-born. When she paused for a while, he said,
"Go on, tell me!" and Minerva felt his voice change slightly, becoming colder and more demanding.
"Fine, if that's what you want. There are four houses in Hogwarts, Gryffindor, for the brave, Ravenclaw, for the smart, Hufflepuff, for the loyal, and Slytherin, for the cunning. Which one do you intend to go to?" she asked.
A slightly greedy look flashed in his eyes, before it was hidden behind a calm mask. "Whichever that will make me great." he replied, and then continued, "How much magic must we know before we go to Hogwarts?"
"Nothing at all," she said, "And that's to let the muggleborns –that's those from non-magical families, like you, catch up with those children who've learnt magic throughout their life-" And then she knew she had made a mistake, somehow, because that boy's face had darkened ominously, and he spoke in a voice that was icy with anger.
"How dare you say that- how dare you- I don't need to catch up with anyone! Mark my words- I will be greater than any one of you!" Then he went back to his book, which looked rather too thick to be a first year's, and did not speak again to her.
And then they had become prefects, in two very different houses, and they had utterly disliked each other.
Minerva had gone out to the lake to take a walk and relax, when she saw a group of first years huddled together in a bunch, talking in low voices. They looked perfectly innocent from a distance, until there was a shriek and a girl began to rise up in the air, all the while screaming her lungs out.
Immediately, she ran over to the lot of them, levitated the child back down, and cast her fiercest glare at all of them. She took a look at the badge on their robes- no wonder. The whole lot of Slytherins had ganged up against one single Hufflepuff. A sharp anger rose within her, and she opened her mouth to tell off the group of first-years.
"Did all of you not know how dangerous that was? If you had lost control of that spell, that poor girl could have broken her neck! You are here to learn magic, not to misuse it! That'll be-"
"Five points from Slytherin, each," a cool voice cut in smoothly. Minerva spun around to face a smirking Tom Riddle.
"Don't abuse your privileges, Riddle!" she shouted. "Just because you're a prefect doesn't mean you can show such blatant favoritism towards your house!"
"Oh, Minerva? Then what would you have done? Twenty points each and detention with your wonderful Dumbledore?"
"That's what they deserved!" she cried, snapping around and stalking back to the castle. Her good mood was completely gone. Behind her, Tom Riddle stood alone against the beautiful lake, gazing at her with something unreadable in his eyes.
But what had her friend said?
When their fifth year defence class ended, barely half the original class of Gryffindors and Slytherins straggled out of the classroom. The other half was in the hospital wing –and Minerva winced as she recalled the various hexes, each a different colour, flying around the room. What had supposedly been a 'friendly due' had obviously turned out wrong, for the Slytherins could not resist the opportunity to hex all the Gryffs they could, consequences be damned, and her fellow year-mates had reacted with equal vigor.
Then she recalled the duel she had with Tom Riddle, the two of them who were top of their class. Their original jinxes and hexes, those which would not cause any harm, soon became a much more dangerous duel, and Minerva was aware that they had drifted dangerously to using the Dark Arts more than once. She was utterly embarrassed at having to use darker spells, when her family was nothing but Light, and still be defeated in the end! She unconsciously glared at a suit of armor beside her.
"Why, Minerva, still sore about losing? I suppose you're not so cocky now, are you?" Oh, that dratted voice... if only she weren't a prefect... She stiffened her shoulders and walked on with her friend Violet McDonald beside her, resolutely ignoring that voice behind her. Suddenly, she was nearly knocked into the corridor wall, and a tall figure pushed past her, saying as he passed, "If you're so careless, Minerva, it's no wonder you lost!" At that time, she had had enough, and aimed her wand towards him, but then Professor Dumbledore appeared around the corner. She hastily stuffed her wand back into her robes, and walked towards the staircase with Violet.
At the top of the staircase, Violet stopped, and turned towards her. "What?" Minerva snapped, too irritated by what just happened to tone down her voice. "Sorry," she muttered as Violet flinched. "I'm just so angry at Riddle!"
"That's OK," Violet replied, slowly, "But don't you find it funny? I mean, Riddle doesn't have a lack of admirers at all, does he? He's always surrounded by the entire Slytherin house, and because he's so handsome, he's practically got a fanclub! But he still goes out of his way to make you notice him."
She heard her breath quicken. "Oh, that's because he likes to annoy me," Minerva said, "I'm easy fodder for him, I guess, but he certainly doesn't like me at all, and I'm sure that feeling is mutual."
"No, don't you get it?" her friend said. "Some boys like to pull the pigtails of the girl they like and find ways to annoy her just to get her attention. I'm telling you, Tom Riddle likes you!"
"Nonsense," Minerva told Violet, sternly, in a tone that clearly said the subject was closed. Still, although her voice was steady, her heart was still beating fast.
No, Minerva didn't believe it, until one day they had patrol duty together later that year.
The corridors, for once, were silent as she and Tom walked through them. There was nobody to catch, no lovestruck couples in the Astronomy Tower, no mischief-maker in any deserted classroom, and no hungry soul in the kitchen. Occasionally, they would meet a teacher or a ghost, but no more than a curt nod was exchanged before the other person hurried off.
They passed by a wall, still gleaming darkly with the red words that had been painted on barely a day ago, and Minerva felt her shoulders tremble as she read and re-read the warning on the wall. That place was dimly lit, and it just so happened that the words caught the flickering light of the torches on the opposite wall, making them glimmer as if they were wet. The words looked like they had been written in blood.
She was not aware that she had stopped walking, until she heard Tom's voice. "Come on, Minerva, we haven't got all day-" and then she heard the tiny intake of breath that indicated he had seen what she was staring at. "That was written after your good friend Violet McDonald was petrified yesterday, I think. The Bloody Baron saw it and alerted the Headmaster." His voice was mild, toneless; there was not a single speck of emotion in it at all. Minerva suddenly had a burning urge to ask him something.
"Aren't you frightened at all, Riddle? Knowing that all of us are at risk- the Chamber has been opened- Don't you even feel just a bit scared?" She cocked her head to one side, asking him of an explanation.
He laughed, a low, dark, rich laugh that made Minerva's breath catch in her throat."Frightened? No, I can safely say that I am not frightened at all." Then he suddenly seemed very close to her, his gaze intent on her, and she realized that his brown eyes had an odd tinge of red in the dim light. "But are you afraid?"
"Yes…sometimes…" She knew her knees were shaking, and she leaned on the wall to steady herself. "Oh, Tom, you have no idea how frightened I am- Violet- she… she was just fine the day before- and now she's in the hospital wing!"
She unconsciously buried herself in Tom's shoulder, and she took comfort in its solid warmth. At least this was something dependable, after all those students had been petrified. Tom had already tangled a pale hand through her hair; her hair ribbon had already been slipped off onto the ground. Then he slipped a long fore-finger under the stubborn line of her chin, and lifted her head with gentleness that she had not expected from him. "You don't have to worry, Minerva. You're a pureblood witch," and with that, his lips were already on hers. She closed her eyes, letting all her trouble go, even if it was only for those few minutes.
They eventually broke apart, and Minerva smiled up at him, a sleepy, honest smile that made him smile back in return. She spoke then, and he noted with satisfaction that her voice was low and rough. "I don't know when I stopped hating you and starting liking you, Tom, and I don't know why you just kissed me like that. But can I safely assume that things will be different from now on?"
"Yes," he answered. "Things will be different."
Later, a girl named Myrtle died, but Minerva was too caught up in her late-night escapades to care too much about it. She failed to notice, too, that Tom did not return to his common room after they parted, and did not suspect anything when Tom found out that Hagrid was the culprit.
It was a happy two years that passed.
But they broke up when they graduated. No, it wasn't a real break up, more of a relationship left hanging in mid-air.
The graduation ball was over, and both she and Tom, as Head Boy and Girl, had made wonderful speeches to close this chapter in their lives. There was a ball, later, and it ended at nearly midnight. That night, Tom took her to his rooms.
They woke early the next morning. It was time for him to go- Minerva had already secured a teaching position as an apprentice first at Hogwarts, and today she would be moving to a new set of rooms.
The first thing she noticed when she awoke was that Tom was looking at her, with half-lidded eyes, an arm resting languidly over her own arm. She sighed, and when he met her eyes, she knew that he too understood the reason for her sigh. But his next words surprised her.
"Wait for me to return," he said, "and you shall be my queen."
"What do you mean, Tom?"
"I have started a little group- with some of my closer friends- and we shall change the wizarding world completely."
"How so?"
"Do you not see the corruption in the Ministry, Minerva? That filthy, rotten place where so many talented people are wasted? And who is at the head of all this corruption? A mudblood Minister, who doesn't understand how our world works- all he thinks of is his own personal gain- and all his supporters are all mudbloods! They're spoiling our world-"
Minerva interrupted him then. "You can't blame a corrupted Ministry on the muggleborns only, Tom! Some of the pureblood families are among the most corrupted!"
His face seemed to shift and change right then, the expression becoming almost feral, the eyes harsher, more commanding- was that a flash of red? "You haven't seen how Muggles lived, Minerva!" he shouted. "You never saw the Muggle world! Look at your eyes, so clear and innocent-" he trailed a finger across her cheek- "You never saw the war, never heard the bombs explode, never heard the sound of men killing each other- Only the muggles do that! Only they would unhesitatingly kill their own kind! Do you want those who have been brought up in that world to continue to live here?"
"I don't care, Tom," she faltered, but continued on bravely. "They have bad people among them, yes, but there are also so many people who are good!"
"Good? GOOD? I should think I know better than you, Minerva, and all those damn Muggles are nothing, nothing, I tell you, than backstabbing cowards who would destroy us if they ever found out about magic!"
She couldn't take it anymore; and her body reacted before she even knew it. She drew back her hand, and slapped him across the face with all her might. Time seemed to stop right then, as Tom clapped a hand to his reddening cheek and stared at her in shock, with quickly became anger-
Simultaneously, whatever that was near them exploded, violently, and Minerva stared at him in horror for a second before she turned and ran into the bathroom.
She took a long, hot bath, trying to come up with an appropriate apology- she had over-reacted, but he shouldn't have talked about muggleborns in that manner, should he? She toweled her hair dry, dressed quickly, and opened the bathroom door, expecting to see him there.
However, the room was empty, with all the broken furniture and books repaired neatly and back where they belonged, but –oh- Tom's travelling bag was gone. Whatever that remained of him was gone, except for a small, silver brooch on the bedside table.
Minerva collapsed onto the bed and sobbed.
Ten long, lonely years passed, until she saw him again.
Minerva had just come back from Hogsmeade, where she had been running errands for Headmaster Dumbledore. It was a cold winter's day, and she shivered as she drew her emerald cloak closer around her, the snow in her hair dislodging itself with a shake of her head. She touched the brooch that fastened it shut carefully, almost reverently, and sighed as she remembered Tom Riddle, the person who had given her that brooch one day. It had been so lonely, those ten years, and her parents and former classmates were all pestering her to get married soon. She knew that they had more or less broken up, but she hoped, and hoped, but even that diminished each day as ten years passed.
"Minerva?" a shockingly familiar voice called. But it was subtly different now, higher and colder. She drew in a deep breath.
"Tom? Is that you?" In the darkness, she could only see a flowing black cloak, but as the tall figure approached, she gasped.
"Tom! What have you done to yourself?" Where was the Tom she knew? The achingly handsome one with brown hair, brown eyes and a beautiful, slow smile? "What happened to your skin, your –oh! Your eyes, Tom! What the hell did you do?"
He merely laughed, and she realized, with a sinking feeling, that even his laughter had changed. "I have pushed the boundaries of magic to limits further than anyone has done, Minerva. This small loss is nothing, absolutely nothing, to what I gained." He flicked his wand at a nearby heap of snow, and it immediately exploded and melted. Minerva gaped at him. Such a powerful non-verbal spell, and done so casually?
Tom spoke again. "I have not changed, Minerva. I still want you to be my queen- will you agree?"
No, a thousand times no. Not after all this. "I cannot, Tom. You have changed too much for me to love you."
"That is your final decision?" His voice was still calm and gentle, but his eyes had hardened.
"Yes...Yes."
"Very well, then." Tom suddenly pulled her into his arms for a brief, burning kiss, slipping his slender hand into her dark tresses, and then he abruptly stepped back.
"Goodbye, Minerva." With that, he swept past her, into the castle, never turning back once. Later, she heard from Albus that he had come to seek the position of the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, but Albus had refused him.
For the next day, and then for years onwards, she wore her hair in a severe bun, never again letting it down in public, but she made sure she always wore that brooch.
After that, they knew that they were on different sides, and never spoke to each other again. But then there was his first rise.
Grindelwald was defeated, and the wizarding world was at peace- or so Minerva thought. She was shocked, then, when the phoenix pendant that was used only for emergencies glowed and turned warm at her collarbone, rudely awakening her, and immediately apparated to the meeting place. She was met by a roomful of sleepy-eyed people, all of them members of the Order.
Only Albus was fully awake, and there was no trace of jolliness in his face. One look at him sobered her. What had happened?
Mad-Eye Moody spoke first. "If you're going to call us out of our beds at one in the morning, Albus, you better tell us what's going on," he growled.
"Very well," and he gestured at them to sit down. When they had settled down, he said, "Grindelwald has fallen, but a new Dark Lord has risen from his ashes. He launched his first attack today, and we were caught completely by surprise. When we reached the scene, the whole village was gone, and a green skull was hanging in the sky."
"How many survivors, Albus?" Arthur asked tersely.
"None, I'm afraid. The new Dark Lord is even worse than Grindelwald- even all the women and children died a... very bloody death."
The room was silent as everyone tried to get this through their sleep-fogged minds. "That is all for now," Albus told them. "I will inform you all if there are any developments. For now, be alert."
Several loud pops in succession indicated that the members were disapparating from the meeting place, and eventually only she and Albus were left.
"What is his name?" she asked, tiredly. "He goes by the name Lord Voldemort," he answered. "But I believe you know him better as Tom Riddle. I'm sorry, Minerva."
She buried her head in her arms. Why had things become like this?
Although Minerva was in the Order of the Phoenix, she worked mostly behind the scenes, and so rarely fought Death Eaters, until one day…
She was marking essays after dinner, when the pendant became so hot it burned. Immediately, she dropped her work and arrived at the meeting place with a pop, and saw that Albus was already there.
"Diagon Alley is under attack as I speak," he said, quietly and urgently. "We will go there, not to fight, but to defend. Our first priority is to get all innocents out of the way. Here-" he waved his wand, and a red bracelet appeared in front of everyone. "It is an emergency portkey that will bring you to Hogwarts. The activation word is lemon."
He continued talking. "It is one of the biggest attacks so far, and Voldemort himself is there. Be careful of the Death Eaters, and flee immediately if he attacks you."
With that, they apparated to Diagon Alley with a flurry of pops.
The first thing Minerva did when she arrived was to cover her ears. The whole place was just too overwhelming, and the normally peaceful and quiet Alley was burning, spreading heavy clouds of foul black smoke all over the place. People were screaming- running away- Minerva saw a man in the distance being killed by a Death Eater. The Alley trembled as an occasional explosion rocked its very foundations, and one more building went up in flames. It was becoming harder and harder to see and breathe, and many of her fellow Order members had already cast Bubble-Head Charms around them as they fought.
She was jerked out of her stunned state as a blood-red jet of light grazed her ear, and although she did not recognize it, she instinctively knew it would not be anything good. She whipped around, seeing a large Death Eater brandishing his wand at her, and she leveled her wand at him. They fought –block-attack-block-attack-attack-down! Finally, she managed to stun him, and stunned him after binding him up securely in ropes.
All around her, people were fighting- comrades or enemies, she couldn't tell who was what- and then she noticed a part where the fighting seemed to be particularly intense. She cursed, jinxed, and even punched a Death Eater straight in the face to get there, and then she saw him. He was completely unrecognizable from the Tom in her school days. Now he was gaunt, with paper-white skin, snake-like eyes, and his hair had disappeared. But his power seemed to have increased even more, dark and foul and filthy, as he killed so many her friends with mere sweeps of his wand.
She readied her wand, just as he turned- and looked at her straight in the eye. "If it isn't dear Minerva," he hissed, his current voice a mockery of his former one. "Do you hope to defeat me? I beat you when we were fifteen- I can easily do so now." He spoke quietly, not raising his voice at all, but it carried through the wind. She heard every word.
"Shut up, Tom," she shouted to him, gloating quietly at how his red eyes flared with anger, and then she launched into the hardest battle she had ever fought. After a while, she was exhausted and panting, while he hadn't moved an inch. She shot a powerful curse at him, and he deflected it easily- but he didn't notice the jet of light that hit him in the back less than a second later.
He stumbled forward, slightly, and Minerva saw how his eyes widened and looked almost mortal and human for a moment, before he narrowed them into slits and whirled around, cloak billowing behind him, to face Albus Dumbledore. But Minerva knew that spell- it was a powerful immobilizing spell, and if Tom had only stumbled- how powerful was he now?
"Here to defend your precious student, Dumbledore?" Voldemort taunted, but Albus wasn't looking at him, his gaze was fixed on Minerva, and he mouthed one word, "GO!" She didn't budge, at first, but his eyes pleaded with her to leave immediately, and she took his advice this time.
As she portkeyed out, she saw a silver light erupt from Tom's wand and hit Albus.
Then she heard that he had fallen, destroyed by a toddler, and although she rejoiced, along with the rest, there was a part of her that mourned silently.
Albus poked his head into her room, where she was seated on the sofa. "Minerva?" he asked. "All the teachers are going to attend a party at the Weasley Burrow. Molly's just had a baby girl not long ago, and we're going to congratulate her. Are you coming?"
"No," she had replied. "That's the fifth party that I've attended this week, and I'm really tired. Give my regards to the Weasleys."
"All right, then," he said cheerfully. "Have a good rest, Minerva," he said as he closed the door again.
She sighed, and continued to stare at the fire in front of her.
Now another fifteen years had passed, and Minerva was getting old. The war would come soon, she was sure of it, but she was so tired of war.
He tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone during Potter's first year- then the Chamber of Secrets the next year. That one struck a particularly guilty note in her, because Albus told her about how Tom opened the Chamber in his fifth year. The year, she thought, that we got together. How could she have been so blind?
Then he was reborn in Potter's fourth year –more snake and monster than man-, and fifth year he had tried to steal the prophecy. It was that year, too, that Minerva had been sent to St. Mungo's after she was hit by so many Stunners. She woke up in a hospital bed, and her bones creaked painfully, her head was sore, and her muscles ached. Once she could have taken on all of them without difficulty- but now she was old and slower.
She supported Harry with all her heart, as he had become quite close to her over the years, but she would never admit it. Still, her logical mind told her that a seventeen year old boy could never defeat the Dark Lord.
Far away, in a remote town, Lord Voldemort stood and laughed as he watched the town go down in flames. He had instructed his Death Eaters to kill all the Muggles immediately, and bring the wizards and witches to him. He would decide their fate.
Two figures robed in black approached him reverently, dragging a woman behind them. They bowed low to him, and one of them said, "Master, we found this mudblood in one of the houses. Should we kill her?" The woman, bound and gagged, could not even move or speak, but her large eyes stared at him in horror and slight disgust. She was rather tall, and her thick black hair was in severe disarray. She reminded him of someone, a person he had left behind along with his past life.
"Spare her," he hissed, noting that the woman's and his servants' eyes widened in shock. "She will be the sole survivor to tell the world of what Lord Voldemort can do."
Back in Hogwarts, high up in a tower, a boy awoke with a start.
Oh my. That was so exhausting to write, I don't think I'll write anything else for a week. Review please, and tell me what you think of this. PLEASE. At least give me a tiny reward for all the hard work I put in.