FICLET: Residues (Tom/Minerva)
Nov. 14th, 2008 09:30 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rarepair_shortsTitle: Residues
Pairing: Tom Riddle/Minerva McGonogall
Prompt: the residue of Monday
Rating: G *is ashamed*
Word Count: 1012
Summary: Tom finds a room sealed from the rest of the castle, but he isn't the first.
Author's Notes: It's not really possible to move higher than G with an eleven- and thirteen-year-old, so I hope the idea of Minerva being more interested than she should be filters through.
Pre-1930s Hogwarts (including Tom's ancestors) is based on the Marvoloverse since JKR gives us no canon information. (This will become important later.)
Link to Prompt Table: 1/13
I. the residue of Monday
Central's heydays had passed decades ago, gone like the etchings of old rivalries on the walls, the now-blank shield upon which a night's wagers had glowed, the terminated echoes of a divided school with its unified houses. The alumni who had once frequented the vast room now loitered in plebeian graves or patrician crypts or even - though few - the Muggle cemeteries of their parents. Minerva had never seen anyone there before, unless one counted Dumbledore turning slow circles in it with a wistful smile on his face, at some godforsaken hour when student and mentor should have been in their beds. But Minerva had blundered into the room in an abortive attempt to head off Tamino's mischief and Dumbledore - well, who could fathom what he might have been doing? Dancing a partnerless waltz in an empty room might even register as normal for the eccentric professor.
"Galleon for your thoughts?"
She turned to look at the young man sitting on the bay window seat.
"I believe the expression is 'Knut for your thoughts' Mister Riddle," she replied wryly.
"So I imagine, but valuing your thoughts at a Knut would be insulting, Miss McGonogall."
Were eleven year-olds even supposed to know the meaning of 'flirting'? She mentally shook herself.
"I thought you'd be in the common room by now with your other housemates."
She could have hit herself as soon as the words reified themselves in the cool September air. Of all the things to say to a Muggle-born Slytherin. An orphaned one at that. Something flickered across his face, lighting up the deep blue eyes or changing the shadows made by too chiselled cheekbones on his pale skin. She knew him better than any other student did, yet she could never discern his expressions.
"Quiet is a rare commodity in my experience," he said lightly. "Besides, I thought I would leave the first-years to their squabbling and status games for a while."
For want of anything better to do to cover her faux pas she crossed the room and perched on the opposite end of the seat. A thick silence coated the room like the dust did. No house-elves had ventured here for decades. Moonlight leached the richness from the room, leaving even the gold ceiling roses only a silvery glint, the candelabras hanging beneath them suddenly thorny, terrifying, as if the graceful cast iron curls had gone wild when the room removed itself from the rest of the castle.
"Do you know about the history of this room?" she asked.
"Not really. The book mentions it in passing - thank you for it - again," his voice trailed off in something like embarrassment.
Besides his textbooks it was the only book he owned, she thought. She'd spent more on a present for a boy she barely knew than for her best friend.
"I assume you know something of the room's history then?"
Riddle's voice was all calm, crisp Oxford schoolboy inflection once more.
"I--" she smothered a yawn, causing a grin to slither across Riddle's features. Yes, he would be a handsome one a few more years along his mortal coil. Thirteen was too young an age to be noticing such things according to her parents, but they didn't have control over the giggles of her dorm-mates. Or those lurid books Elke Niedhardt kept reading...ugh.
"Sorry. The room. Well, there are areas of the school in which the Houses are encouraged to mix. Apparently this was one of Hufflepuff's better ideas: she was against the House division, you see, but was overruled by the other Founders."
Riddle nodded silently. Those eyes were very disconcerting, fixed on her like the serpent before it lunges...
"The central common room was the largest of these areas - and the only one in which serious magic was allowed-"
"The History mentioned duelling-"
She laughed. Trust a Slytherin to pick the most dangerous topic. Or a Gryffindor.
"I don't think duelling was allowed anywhere, but for some reason the Masters let the students get away with it in Central. At least they would know where most of the dangerous magic was occurring instead of students trying to slip it under their noses. At any rate, this room was a huge hub of magical activity until, oh, sometime in the late eighteen hundreds."
"Perhaps that explains things, yes."
The murmur wasn't meant for her ears, that was for certain. His eyes were half-closed behind their lids, like an asp ensnared in the snake-charmer's web of melody and rhythm.
"Can you see it?" he asked suddenly, eyes snapping open. "Ever since I can remember, I sometimes saw colours floating across my vision, like the effect one gets after looking at a bright light for too long. It seems to happen more when magic is nearby. Is it-? You've never seen it, have you?"
His excitement faded into stillness, awkwardness.
"When you've just done magic?"
"Oh, all the time! When I entered Diagon Alley for the first time, it was like a stream of fireworks in my head!"
No. He couldn't be. Who had ever heard of someone feeling other people's magic unless it was directed at them?
"Why did they stop using the room?" the boy asked suddenly.
"It only lasted a few years after females were allowed into Hogwarts again, but I doubt it was our fault."
He laughed.
"No, probably House rivalry got in the way, not helped by changes of syllabus and the OWL/NEWT scheme. External exams," she added at his blank look. "Even nowadays the House division means one won't see many students outside one's own House socially unless one makes an effort. Especially-"
Ye gods, she was about to put her size ten wand into her size two cauldron again.
"Especially?" his voice trailed off enticingly.
He could even raise a single eyebrow. She'd always wanted to learn how to do that.
"Especially if you start the term by losing House points. Off to bed with the both of you now!"
Professor Dumbledore strode into the room, crimson robes trailing in his wake.
"Miss McGonogall, loitering is no way to start third year, unless you are trying to entice young Master...Riddle here into your nocturnal escapades."
Minerva flushed. She wasn't that much of a troublemaker. Well...
"Mister Riddle, mine is the first class tomorrow - your first taste of real magic! I don't want to see you yawning in it."
Professor Dumbledore chivvied him out of sight towards the dungeons while Minerva's feet headed upwards. She must have been hearing things, after all the transfiguration professor had called him 'Mister' the second time. 'Master' was the title of a patrician boy.
Pairing: Tom Riddle/Minerva McGonogall
Prompt: the residue of Monday
Rating: G *is ashamed*
Word Count: 1012
Summary: Tom finds a room sealed from the rest of the castle, but he isn't the first.
Author's Notes: It's not really possible to move higher than G with an eleven- and thirteen-year-old, so I hope the idea of Minerva being more interested than she should be filters through.
Pre-1930s Hogwarts (including Tom's ancestors) is based on the Marvoloverse since JKR gives us no canon information. (This will become important later.)
Link to Prompt Table: 1/13
Central's heydays had passed decades ago, gone like the etchings of old rivalries on the walls, the now-blank shield upon which a night's wagers had glowed, the terminated echoes of a divided school with its unified houses. The alumni who had once frequented the vast room now loitered in plebeian graves or patrician crypts or even - though few - the Muggle cemeteries of their parents. Minerva had never seen anyone there before, unless one counted Dumbledore turning slow circles in it with a wistful smile on his face, at some godforsaken hour when student and mentor should have been in their beds. But Minerva had blundered into the room in an abortive attempt to head off Tamino's mischief and Dumbledore - well, who could fathom what he might have been doing? Dancing a partnerless waltz in an empty room might even register as normal for the eccentric professor.
"Galleon for your thoughts?"
She turned to look at the young man sitting on the bay window seat.
"I believe the expression is 'Knut for your thoughts' Mister Riddle," she replied wryly.
"So I imagine, but valuing your thoughts at a Knut would be insulting, Miss McGonogall."
Were eleven year-olds even supposed to know the meaning of 'flirting'? She mentally shook herself.
"I thought you'd be in the common room by now with your other housemates."
She could have hit herself as soon as the words reified themselves in the cool September air. Of all the things to say to a Muggle-born Slytherin. An orphaned one at that. Something flickered across his face, lighting up the deep blue eyes or changing the shadows made by too chiselled cheekbones on his pale skin. She knew him better than any other student did, yet she could never discern his expressions.
"Quiet is a rare commodity in my experience," he said lightly. "Besides, I thought I would leave the first-years to their squabbling and status games for a while."
For want of anything better to do to cover her faux pas she crossed the room and perched on the opposite end of the seat. A thick silence coated the room like the dust did. No house-elves had ventured here for decades. Moonlight leached the richness from the room, leaving even the gold ceiling roses only a silvery glint, the candelabras hanging beneath them suddenly thorny, terrifying, as if the graceful cast iron curls had gone wild when the room removed itself from the rest of the castle.
"Do you know about the history of this room?" she asked.
"Not really. The book mentions it in passing - thank you for it - again," his voice trailed off in something like embarrassment.
Besides his textbooks it was the only book he owned, she thought. She'd spent more on a present for a boy she barely knew than for her best friend.
"I assume you know something of the room's history then?"
Riddle's voice was all calm, crisp Oxford schoolboy inflection once more.
"I--" she smothered a yawn, causing a grin to slither across Riddle's features. Yes, he would be a handsome one a few more years along his mortal coil. Thirteen was too young an age to be noticing such things according to her parents, but they didn't have control over the giggles of her dorm-mates. Or those lurid books Elke Niedhardt kept reading...ugh.
"Sorry. The room. Well, there are areas of the school in which the Houses are encouraged to mix. Apparently this was one of Hufflepuff's better ideas: she was against the House division, you see, but was overruled by the other Founders."
Riddle nodded silently. Those eyes were very disconcerting, fixed on her like the serpent before it lunges...
"The central common room was the largest of these areas - and the only one in which serious magic was allowed-"
"The History mentioned duelling-"
She laughed. Trust a Slytherin to pick the most dangerous topic. Or a Gryffindor.
"I don't think duelling was allowed anywhere, but for some reason the Masters let the students get away with it in Central. At least they would know where most of the dangerous magic was occurring instead of students trying to slip it under their noses. At any rate, this room was a huge hub of magical activity until, oh, sometime in the late eighteen hundreds."
"Perhaps that explains things, yes."
The murmur wasn't meant for her ears, that was for certain. His eyes were half-closed behind their lids, like an asp ensnared in the snake-charmer's web of melody and rhythm.
"Can you see it?" he asked suddenly, eyes snapping open. "Ever since I can remember, I sometimes saw colours floating across my vision, like the effect one gets after looking at a bright light for too long. It seems to happen more when magic is nearby. Is it-? You've never seen it, have you?"
His excitement faded into stillness, awkwardness.
"When you've just done magic?"
"Oh, all the time! When I entered Diagon Alley for the first time, it was like a stream of fireworks in my head!"
No. He couldn't be. Who had ever heard of someone feeling other people's magic unless it was directed at them?
"Why did they stop using the room?" the boy asked suddenly.
"It only lasted a few years after females were allowed into Hogwarts again, but I doubt it was our fault."
He laughed.
"No, probably House rivalry got in the way, not helped by changes of syllabus and the OWL/NEWT scheme. External exams," she added at his blank look. "Even nowadays the House division means one won't see many students outside one's own House socially unless one makes an effort. Especially-"
Ye gods, she was about to put her size ten wand into her size two cauldron again.
"Especially?" his voice trailed off enticingly.
He could even raise a single eyebrow. She'd always wanted to learn how to do that.
"Especially if you start the term by losing House points. Off to bed with the both of you now!"
Professor Dumbledore strode into the room, crimson robes trailing in his wake.
"Miss McGonogall, loitering is no way to start third year, unless you are trying to entice young Master...Riddle here into your nocturnal escapades."
Minerva flushed. She wasn't that much of a troublemaker. Well...
"Mister Riddle, mine is the first class tomorrow - your first taste of real magic! I don't want to see you yawning in it."
Professor Dumbledore chivvied him out of sight towards the dungeons while Minerva's feet headed upwards. She must have been hearing things, after all the transfiguration professor had called him 'Mister' the second time. 'Master' was the title of a patrician boy.
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no subject
Date: 2008-11-14 10:18 pm (UTC)It's a really nice idea and this pairing is just intriguing.
I can't wait to read more. : )
no subject
Date: 2008-11-17 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-14 08:56 am (UTC)Also LOVED this line:
"So I imagine, but valuing your thoughts at a Knut would be insulting, Miss McGonogall."
Nicely done. :)