Along Came Riddle

Along Came Riddle

Chapter Two: Slime Boy

Tom Riddle stared at her with the almost strained cordial expression of someone uptight and mannered, and his robes didn't help lighten up his face either; they were neat, precise, like he had bought them today, and his polished Prefect badge shone on Minerva with an obnoxious flare as if to say, 'Oh yes, I am better than you.' Minerva looked at her own Prefect badge, which was smudged with fingerprints and dented on its left side.

She then looked at his face; it almost seemed to be fighting off a smirk.

Smug prat.

His face was delicate: cheekbones slender and carved out with accuracy; lips pink, contrasting with his light skin; eyes dark and cat-like that had a devilish charm to them; black hair groomed and had a soft-like bounce to it, which most girls would enjoy running their fingers through; and a chin that was prominent, complementing his facial structure. He was exactly like a doll, with his spotless robes, handsome face, slender body, and seemingly captivating appearance. And yet something reeked about him...something...slimy...

"Miss McGonagall, are you alright?"

Minerva blinked a few times and blushed. She had obviously stared off into space for at least a minute.

"I'm--I'm fine, Sir," Minerva stuttered, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. They were both observing her like a child who was blowing raspberries at them. And it annoyed the crap out of her.

"That's...good to hear, Miss McGonagall." Slughorn scratched his chin for a second and turned to Tom Riddle, inquiring, "You've asked me before if there was anything you could do for extra credit, did you not, Tom?"

Tom Riddle raised an eyebrow, his eyes flitting to Minerva then shooting back to Slughorn. "Yes, Professor, I did."

Slughorn grinned, showing large teeth. Minerva gazed at them with surprise; that man had to be part horse.

"Well then, I have an assignment for you, Tom. See, Miss McGonagall has been...slacking in my class, and it's very important she passes her sixth-year courses with N.E.W.T.s coming up next year. I need you to tutor her for the year, to make sure she stays on track. She's a valuable student, Tom, and I would hate to lose her."

Slughorn's bushy eyebrows furrowed, with a hint of concern set on his face. "I realize the fact that you are in your fifth-year might be seen as a bit of a problem--"

"He's still in his fifth-year?" Minerva blurted out, practically shouting. She instantly slapped a hand over her mouth, gasping slightly in embarrassment at screaming it out loud. The whole floor must have heard her voice.

"Yes, I am, Minerva," Tom drawled, putting emphasis on her name with a slight tone of frustration.

"And how do you know my name?" Minerva squealed in alarm, her eyes widening at him.

"It's not really all that shocking. Tom here is very well-informed, Miss McGonagall. In fact, he's probably more informed than most of the Hogwarts staff--which makes him even more qualified for the job," Slughorn added with an expression on his face that begged for her to calm down.

"Well, I would accept, if Minerva promises to listen to my advice while I'm tutoring her. And...if she doesn't have a problem with me being a fifth-year; not that it should be a problem if she desperately needs tutoring." Tom pierced into Minerva's eyes, smirking, and it took a great deal of mind-power for her to stop herself giving him a very rude sign with her fingers. The last thing she needed was Slughorn dropping her out of his class right now for her attitude.

"All right, Sir, I'll work with him," Minerva replied, holding back her urge to kick the slimy git.

"Excellent. Well, I need to correct some sixth-year essays with Tom...then again... Miss McGonagall, you can help Tom correct some essays for me! Yes, it's a perfect idea. It'll help you memorize some material and assist your teacher as well. And I'll award you extra credit for it! How does that sound?"

Slughorn smiled in anticipation, knowing anyone with common sense would take his offer. Minerva on the other hand made an impatient noise in her throat, quickly covering it up with a cough.

"Fine. I'll correct the essays."

"Wonderful girl you are, Miss McGonagall!" Slughorn winked then gleefully waddled to his suitcase. "I'd best be off to the Three Broomsticks; it's Friday, meaning free firewhisky tonight!"

After the door slammed shut in a rush, and Tom had said farewell while Slughorn raced out of the classroom, his expression changed from considerate to something that said, 'Mess with me, and I'll pour unfinished potions down your throat.' The visage was over.

"Listen here, Minerva: Do not get in my way. Do you understand? Or do I need to slow it down for the failing sixth-year?" His lips formed into a wide leer, showing pointed, white teeth.

You sneaky--lying--inconsiderate--bastard!

"Whatever, Riddle. I'm late for my date with Bartemius Crouch anyway. So don't wait up!" she spat, marching toward the door.

"Now, now, Minerva. I wouldn't want to tell Professor Slughorn that his precious student isn't agreeing to his offer, and instead decided to skip tutoring for a date with Barty." Tom Riddle's leer grew wider, if that was even possible.

"You--you wouldn't! And don't call him Barty!" Minerva could feel her nails digging into her palms, but she didn't care. She'd like nothing better than to use a Severing Charm on his manhood right now.

"Are you willing to take your chances on what I will and will not do, Minerva? And as far as Barty goes, his mother calls him that all the time."

"How do you know--"

"I'm very informed, Minerva."

They glared at each other for a while. Minerva scowled at him with thin lips that were slightly pursed while Tom gave her the eyes of death, both refusing to back down.

Eventually, after what seemed like fifteen minutes, Tom rolled his eyes and went to a desk in the front row with the sixth-year essays. He started flipping through them, then stopped on a particular paper, his eyes glinting with malice.

"Interesting...I didn't know you loved putting little hearts around your name... How touching..."

Minerva turned scarlet.

"Give me that essay right now, Riddle!"

She whipped out her wand and charged at him, pointing her wand twelve inches from his face. Tom, however, was smirking at her, holding his wand in one hand and the essay in another, obviously prepared for her reaction. His eyes were full of glee at watching her squirm.

"You want this essay? First, tell me why you put little hearts around your name. And don't lie; I can tell when you lie." He was clearly enjoying every minute of this, leaning back in his chair, his wand still out.

"I was bored! Transfigurations is my specialty, and Potions can get boring! Not that I can't do Potions--it's just dull compared to other courses! Now, give me that essay, Riddle!" Minerva cried, wanting to smack him across the face. How dare he be so disrespectful of her property!

"Here you are, Minerva," Tom replied, waving it between his fingers, suppressing his laughter. She snatched it out of his hand, blushing furiously.

"I don't want you to correct my essay anyway!"

Tom made an impatient noise. "I already have corrected your essays; plenty of them. I have been, of course, helping Professor Slughorn for extra credit. And I know you don't put hearts around your name all the time, not that I care; it was merely amusing getting a rise out of you. --Oh, and you spelt Felix Felicis wrong; just thought you ought to know."

"My spelling is fine, thank you." She stalked to the other side of the room, scowling at him while taking out some Potions homework that needed to be done.

The time passed in silence. Tom scribbled away corrections on Minerva's fellow peers' essays while Minerva wrote an essay on 'Draught of Peace' that she had been assigned. She muttered incoherently with acrimony, remembering what occurred today. Yes, she had a lot to say about 'Draught of Peace.'

"Minerva? ...Minerva?"

"Yes," she growled under her breath, wishing he'd just leave her alone.

"Since I am the tutor, we're going to meet at the Hog's Head every Friday at six. Oh, and if you don't oblige, I'll go straight to Professor Slughorn. Do you under--"

"Yes, I understand!" Minerva hissed back at him, feeling herself heat up in the face.

"Do not give me attitude, Minerva. I'm not ecstatic about working with you either. I merely have to uphold certain responsibilities, for which I'm admired--"

"You're not fooling anyone, Riddle. I knew you were slime before Slughorn left. And there are others who know too; you're only fooling yourself if you think everyone here holds you up as a saint," Minerva snarled, breathing in sharply, her lips thinning.

His lip twitched. Tom then replied coolly, "I beg to differ, Minerva. Many teachers, including Slughorn, hold me in high regard. My fellow students look up to me, which is far more than I can say for you. Do not make false accusations if you have no evidence to support it, Minerva. You will only make yourself look more pathetic than you already are--"

"CONFRINGO!"

The violet light grazed Riddle by inches as he watched it hit a desk, blasting it into smithereens. The sound from the explosion roared around the classroom, shattering a few glass vials into shards. Tom was rammed to the floor from the force of the blast, making a harsh thump as he hit stone. His eyes widened in what appeared to be shock, but were immediately numbed with a cold look.

"Don't ever--don't ever call me pathetic! You--you--" Minerva was sputtering for words to describe a proper insult for the slimy bastard when he interrupted.

"How dare you attack me! You have no idea what I can do to you..." Tom breathed with venom. He hadn't even shouted as she had assumed he would, but even so, it sent chills down her spine.

"Nice try, Riddle, but I'm not afraid of you. I know how to duel better than you think; this served merely as a warning."

They stared at each other intensely, waiting for any move the other would make, each second passing between them with spite. And then Tom got up, with a twitchy Minerva watching him carefully, ready for him to spring around and curse her with everything he had. But he didn't. He simply swept up the shattered glass and desk with a flick of his wand, watching it fade before his eyes, and then returned to grade papers again.

More time passed before Minerva decided it was best to leave; she had begun to pack away her things when Tom called out to her.

"You are still to meet me in the Hog's Head, Friday at six. Not that I'll take pleasure in seeing you there."

"Yeah, I got that," Minerva spat, heading towards the door.

"Oh, and Minerva... If you ever attack me again, I will kill you... Under--"

"YES, I UNDERSTAND!" Minerva bellowed at him, swerving out the door with the deepest urge to blast something else into oblivion.

Minerva cursed under her breath. She hated that boy, she really did. Walking up to her Common Room portrait, she wondered why on earth people adored him so much. He wasn't that impressive; he didn't even block her blasting curse! And he was so delicate looking; he almost looked like a female who yearned for male properties. --And that façade! He was such a fraud!

What a filthy, hypocritical, slimy bastard. He demands respect, yet treats others like sh--

"Minerva! Minerva, I've been looking all over for you!"

It was Bartemius.

"Oh, Barty--I mean, Bartemius! I'm so sorry! I was held up in Potions, and I couldn't get out of it." Minerva sighed, ashamed of forgetting all about Bartemius and their date--thanks to her drunk teacher and mental-case tutor. How on earth would she make it up to him?

"But, Minerva...I just saw Professor Slughorn at the Three Broomsticks. I was waiting for you there..." His grey eyes winced at her while he frowned; obviously thinking she was lying to him.

"I know...see...I have a tutor. He's Tom Riddle, that Slytherin Prefect--I know Bartemius, I know he's a fifth-year, but you have to believe me when I say this: Slughorn insists I be tutored by him for the year, and there's nothing I can do about it. Even though I despise working with Riddle, I have to."

Minerva insisted with every ounce of her being in the look she gave him that this was the truth. And with a great look of contemplation from Bartemius, he finally nodded. Minerva smiled in relief; he was so forgiving.

"So...when will you be meeting this...Tom Riddle, exactly?" Bartemius asked, putting a hand on her shoulder gently.

"Six on every Friday--at the Hog's Head too. You could come if you want!" She needed more people that were on her side anyway; she didn't trust Riddle.

"But would I be distracting you? It might be a bad idea, Minerva..."

"Maybe... Why don't we stop talking about this and just get a drink at the Three Broomsticks? I'm exhausted, and I need to relax."

"Alright, Minerva, we'll get a drink. But we have to be back by eleven; that's curfew for you, you know." He smiled at her tenderly as he pulled off his coat for her to wear. She then kissed him lightly on the cheek while he wrapped her in his warm coat, smiling in gratitude that Bartemius had strong arms to hold her while they strode down to Hogsmeade.

Minerva felt comfort in this moment, walking with Bartemius. He was so considerate, so genuine, so dignified, so unlike Tom Riddle. She would never have to worry while in Bartemius Crouch's arms, and never have to fear as she looked into his clear-cut grey eyes full of honesty and care for her. Everything would be fine, and she would only have to put up with that snotty prat Riddle once a week! God knows why he decided to pick Friday, the best day for friends to unwind and enjoy themselves.

It's because he has no life, Minerva. It's because he has no life.

In any case, it didn't matter what the Slytherin slimeball did. Minerva wasn't going to let him affect her life...

Oh how very wrong she was.