Remembrance of Times Long Past

It was late in the evening when seventh year Minerva McGonagall was disturbed from her studying in the empty library.

"Hello, Minerva," greeted Tom Riddle smoothly. "You're looking lovely, as always." He fingered her long black hair.

"Go away Tom!" she hissed, glancing up from her book to glare at him with her intense green eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you that I will not go out with you?"

"Is it because I'm a Slytherin? I wouldn't think you were so prejudiced, Minerva," he replied with a smirk.

Minerva lost her temper. "I wouldn't go out with you if you were the last person alive, Slytherin or not!" she exclaimed, not worrying about keeping her voice down since the librarian was out.

Tom's eyes became abruptly cold. "I would reconsider such a thing if I were you," he said dangerously and then, before she knew what was happening, he dragged her out of her chair and slammed her against the wall. Her head struck the stone and she struggled to keep from passing out from the pain as pinpoints of light appeared in her vision.

"Let me go," she ordered struggling to keep her panic in check.

"I think not, Minerva. You've denied me for far too long," replied Tom, eyeing her figure with his lust barely kept in check.

She opened her mouth to scream, but he silenced her by covering it with his own. He kissed her possessively, lustily, his tongue snaking into her own mouth. She struggled to push him away, but he was far stronger than her own slim build, even though she had trained for Quidditch since her second year. Minerva did the only thing she could think of at the moment and bit his tongue.

Tom stumbled away from her with a curse as she spat out his blood. Quick as a flash, she had her wand out at ready.

"Expelliarmus!" she cried out and caught his wand neatly as he was blown back. Her hand was shaking as she informed him acidly, "Never do that again."

Tom grinned. "And how do you propose to stop me?" he asked as he lunged for her, quick as a snake when it strikes at its prey.

"Stupefy!" The spell missed him by a mere centimeter and he tackled her to the ground as she tried to dodge, straddling her as she lay on her back.

Why isn't anyone coming? Can't they hear the racket? Minerva thought as she frantically scratched him with her nails, drawing blood.

Tom didn't seem to even feel her attack as he kissed her and his hands groped her in places she didn't even want to think about.

"Stop struggling," Tom growled, backhanding her so that her head whipped to the side. He brought the shoulder of her robe down to expose bare skin. Muttering an incantation he took off his ring. She froze as he pressed the design to her shoulder. Whatever she was expecting it wasn't the scorching pain that came from the ring and the tears that she had tried to hold back throughout this whole ordeal flooded her eyes.

Tom fingered the burn as Minerva noticed the design of the ring. It was a skull with a snake crawling out of its mouth and she shuddered.

"You are mine, and mine alone," he whispered, eyes glinting manically.

In a final massive effort Minerva managed to lever him off of her with her knees and scrambled frantically for her wand where she had dropped it, not too far away.

However, Tom recovered more quickly than she thought he would and brought his foot down on her wrist right before her hand closed on her wand. Minerva heard something crack and screamed in pain, bringing her hand to her chest.

The door to the library crashed open startling them both.

"Who's there?" called out a familiar voice as footsteps quickly approached the two seventh years.

"Tell anyone what happened and their deaths will be on your conscience," whispered Tom as he ghosted away, leaving Minerva lying there.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to keep tears from falling as the footsteps drew nearer.

"Minerva?" questioned the voice softly and she opened her eyes to see her Transfigurations professor.

"What happened?" he asked kneeling down beside her, taking in her disheveled appearance and the large bruise forming on her right cheek, as well as her right hand she cradled to her chest.

Thinking quickly she replied, "I fell, Professor Dumbledore. I tried to catch myself, but I landed wrong on my wrist. I think it's broken."

That would explain everything nicely, but something was bothering Dumbledore. He felt she was keeping something from him.

"I think a trip to the Hospital Wing would be in order," he commented, reaching over to help her sit up. It was then he noticed the blood on her fingernails. "Where are you bleeding?" he asked, more sharply than he'd intended to.

Minerva blinked, trying to concentrate. Her head hurt, her shoulder throbbed, pain lanced through her wrist whenever she moved it, and she could easily imagine the large black and blue bruise that was most likely forming on her cheek. She looked dazedly down at her hands and recalled how she had scratched Tom, remembering that her fingers had broken his skin.

"It's not mine," she replied without thinking, and then bit back a curse as her professor looked at her sharply. "I - I mean...it...it's just ...paint," she stuttered, avoiding his piercing blue gaze.

"Minerva, please," he said concerned. "I want to help you, and for me to do that you must tell me what happened."

"I fell, Professor," she replied as he helped her struggle to her feet, "and I really think I should go to the Hospital Wing."

On the off chance that Tom really can do what he threatened, I don't want you or anyone else I care about dead, she thought to herself.

Dumbledore sighed and escorted her to the nurse, not wishing to press her for what she was withholding.

Minerva was healed within a day, though Madam Okera had her stay another for observation. Once deemed healthy, Minerva returned to studying with a will, avoiding her friend's questions of what had happened. She became more withdrawn and never wore her hair down, feeling more protected with it in a conservative bun. She was determined never to be caught in such a situation with anybody, least of all Tom, and carefully avoided being alone and vulnerable outside of the Gryffindor Tower. Her fun-loving self was drifting away and she ignored it, as she ignored Professor Dumbledore's worried gaze, and dismissed his subtle questions about her health and well-being.

It's only four more months, she told herself. Then I'll be out of Hogwarts and away from Tom for good.

~*~

"Well, if that's everything, I think I should be going now. It's getting late," said Professor Minerva McGonagall, gathering up the papers she had placed on the Headmaster's desk after a quick glance at the clock.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore looked at the time as well before fixing his gaze on her once more with a smile. "Not so late," he replied cheerfully as his Deputy Headmistress stood. "Most pubs are still open and wizards and witches both inside and out won't be finished with the celebrations for some time.

Minerva rolled her eyes. "You-Know-Who's been dead for over a week. If this keeps up some drunk wizard will reveal themselves to the Muggles and then where will we be?"

"You can't blame them. It was quite a shock when Voldemort" - she flinched - "supposedly returned from the dead. Now that he's - to quote Mr. Ron Weasley - 'deader than dead' the future looks much brighter. You really should let your hair down and join in some of the fun," he added as an afterthought.

"No thank you," she replied frostily, turning to leave. "I like my hair up, if it's all the same."

"Accio hairpins," murmured Albus under his breath, not wanting her to hear him. Unfortunately for him, she had acquired the sharp hearing of her Animagus form.

"Albus!" she exclaimed, whirling around as gracefully as a cat, even as her long, silky hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. "That was a thoroughly childish thing to do!" she snapped as he walked out from behind his desk, rather loathe to leave its protection, but wanting to carry through with what he planned to do.

"You're very pretty with your hair down," he commented, holding out the hairpins.

She snatched them from his hand and stuffed them in her pocket.

"I haven't seen you wear it down since the middle of your seventh year. I must confess I am curious as to why that is," he continued softly.

Minerva hastily reached for the doorknob, only to find that the door refused to open.

"Albus, open the door this instant!" she ordered, not something she would have done if she were thinking clearly. No matter how many times she pushed the memories back they continued to resurface and, no matter that Tom was dead, the fear was still present.

"When you tell me what happened, then you may leave," he replied softly, studying the woman before him.

"I fell," Minerva said, staring at some point passed him, knowing that if she met his gaze he would see right through such a lie, and knowing if she didn't, he would see the lie anyway. "I told you then, and I'm telling you now that I fell."

"But what you aren't telling me is the truth," he countered.

"How do you know?" she questioned quietly.

Albus only gazed at her and she sighed.

"The nightmares have stopped haven't they?" he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Minerva jerked her head up in surprise. "How did...?" the question died on her lips. She knew he wouldn't tell her how he knew. He had so many secrets, even now.

Damn the man. She found herself drawn back into the nightmares of her past.

"But the fear isn't gone, is it?"

He gently, brushed back a strand of hair from her face, but, caught in the tangled web of memories, Minerva forgot where she was, remembered only Tom's touch and violence. Minerva flinched away from Albus' touch, her right hand automatically jerking upward, though whether to ward him off or reach for her wand she didn't know. She let her hand drop to her side.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking away to avoid seeing the hurt she knew would be in his eyes.

"Who's blood was it?" he asked, embracing her.

Minerva stiffened at the unexpected gesture before relaxing and allowing him to support her.

"Tom's," she murmured, voice muffled by his robes. She half hoped he hadn't heard.

"What did he do?" asked Albus, glancing down at her. He'd always wanted to hold her like this, but it made him feel terrible to watch how her composure disappeared because he had made her relive a memory she would rather forget.

Slowly, haltingly, Minerva told him what had happened to her in the library all those years ago as a seventh year student. When she was done he growled, "If he weren't dead already I'd kill him myself."

Surprised at his vehement anger, she stepped away from him to study his face. His arms tightened momentarily before letting her go.

"Why?" asked Minerva. In all her years of knowing him, he'd never threatened such a thing. She'd never seen his eyes blaze in anger as they did now.

Albus' reply was far from what she'd expected. He was silent for a moment before stepping up to her and gently tilting her chin upward. Then he gently brushed his lips against hers before holding her close to him once more.

"Because I love you, Minerva."

And she loved him, she realized. Had for a long time, though how she hadn't noticed was beyond her.

In response she kissed him and felt him relax.

"I'll see you in the morning, my dear," said Albus as they broke apart, eyes twinkling as he gazed upon Minerva.

"Good night," she said with a nod and a smile, and returned to her bedroom.