Minerva was rather indifferent to Prefect rounds. It was the one time where she could really enforce the law, and people had to listen to her, or else they would receive a detention. However, it was also a period in which her uniform had to be spot on, or she would never hear the end of it from whatever teacher found her. Merlin help her if her shirt was not properly tucked in.

She quickly checked herself over in the mirror, doing up her tie once more to ensure that it was straight, then departed from her dormitory. She waved to her friends, which mainly consisted of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and joined up with the male Prefect Abe Johnson to begin their rounds.

"Who are we patrolling with tonight?" Minerva inquired to break the awkward silence that usually followed the pair whenever they were alone together. He shrugged and pulled out a folded time table from his pocket, his dark eyes skimming the writing quickly, "Uhh... Slytherin, it seems."
"Hurrah," Minerva groaned, knowing it was just her luck. All the Prefects had to meet up so they could check each other, as this was to ensure no one skipped out on duties, but the schedules were designed to pair up four people for rounds just to make sure houses interact with each other. It was up to the students if they wished to break off into pairs and patrol with a housemate, or be the 'better' student and suffer through a night of dealing with someone else.

It was a difficult choice; she could either patrol with Abe in uncomfortable silence all night, or patrol with Tom, who would no doubt drive her to insanity. Decisions, decisions. She wasn't allowed to patrol with the Slytherin girl, as it was mandatory that there was a male and a female walking the halls, either in a foursome or a twosome.
They met up with the other six Prefects and everyone signed themselves in. Then, the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff pairs went off to sort themselves out, leaving Minerva alone with three people who would no doubt ruin her mood that night.

Tom glanced from Minerva to his partner, and he stalked across to the Gryffindor sixth year, grasping her hand and pulling her down the hall. Apparently he had made his choice about who he wanted to patrol with that evening.

"Tom," Minerva hissed, finally stopping him firmly, "Let go! You're killing my circulation!"
He looked down at her arm, then released it, "I think if I was forced to spend another minute alone with that girl, I would honestly lose my mind."
A little shocked, Minerva stared at him in silence, pondering why he had suddenly expressed something so personal with her. Shaking her head, she snorted, "Why? You know, I think she fancies you."
"Well, you truly deserve to be top witch of your year," he droned sarcastically, beginning his walk down the hall leisurely, spinning his wand in his left hand. Minerva cocked an eyebrow, then followed, remembering to keep her distance, yet not make it that obvious, "What's wrong with her? She's pretty-"
"Looks aren't everything, McGonagall," he snorted, rolling his eyes, "She could be beaten by a third year on any exam she took... I don't understand why she's a Prefect."
Minerva shrugged, her eyes scanning an adjoining corridor for any out of bed students. A thought hit her suddenly, and she poked his arm, "Where's my shin guard?"
"Oh, I don't think I lost today," he snickered, shooting her a look over his shoulder, "I mean... You disarmed me like a Muggle... I don't think that would get you your shin guard back."
"What?" she scoffed, her eyes narrowing, "But I still disarmed you! You were the one that didn't specify how I needed to do it!"

He was silent for a moment, obviously trying to think of something devilishly clever to sneer back at her. However, the stillness dragged on, and Minerva found herself getting annoyed with his lack of response.
"Fine," he said at last, taking a sharp turn toward a set of stairs, "We'll go get it then."
"What?"
"Really, McGonagall, you sound like some Scottish scullery maid when you speak like that," Riddle cackled as he moved speedily down the staircase, Minerva close behind, "Try and speak like a lady for once."
"I'm sixteen," she snapped, "I don't think I need to sound like a lady just yet... Where are we going?"
"To my Common Room," he informed her through the darkness, flicking his wand at a few torches to illuminate the plunging stairs, "We'll get your shin guard, and then go back on duty."
"I am not going into the Slytherin Common Room," Minerva maintained tightly, her lips barely parting as she hissed at him. She heard him snort once more, "Who said you were coming inside? You can stand outside and bloody well wait for me."
"This is a waste of time," she snapped when they finally reached the bottom, "We should be patrolling!"

"This won't take long," he argued, leading her down another dark corridor and stopping suddenly, murmuring a word delicately under his breath. A small portrait of a snake slithered away, revealing a rather dreary looking Common Room. Minerva wrinkled her nose, missing her warm, cheery Gryffindor Common Room. Tom slipped inside instantly, and the door slammed closed, leaving Minerva standing alone in the darkness, suddenly feeling rather nervous. Not a lot of the places in Hogwarts scared her, as she was used to patrolling everywhere at night. But normally she had someone with her, and as she stood alone, her mind started playing tricks on her. For a moment she thought she saw someone standing a short distance from her. When she squinted at it, it only turned out to be her shadow, yet it still made her shiver. Then, she started hearing things. A soft whisper from within the walls. It almost sounded like hissing, and Minerva pressed herself against the stone, listening.

Yes, there was definitely something behind the walls. She ran her hand along the stone, concentrating very hard to focus on that sound. Suddenly, it was very close to her, and it seemed as if a large body had just slithered along the other side of the wall. She froze, her heart racing, and a hand suddenly clutched her shoulder, causing her to let out a scream and whip around, her eyes wide and chest heaving.

"What the bloody Hell is wrong with you?" Tom demanded, thrusting her shin guard into her hand, "Ghosties bothering you?"
"Let's go," she ordered, feeling her head pound as she grasped his shirt sleeve and dragged him back toward the stairs, in no mood to deal with him taking his bloody time. He grunted angrily, then ripped his hand away, "What's gotten into you, McGonagall?"
"How can you stand having to sleep down there?" she asked, her tone an octave or two higher than usual, "I... I..."
"It's not that difficult," Tom snorted, oblivious to her frightened tone, "It's not like it's pitch black inside... We do have working lighting."
"That's not what I mean," Minerva muttered, "Didn't you hear that?"
Tom's face paled, and she noted that his confident demeanor changed, "Hear what?"
"That... That hissing?" she stammered, clutching her shin guard to her chest, "It was horrid! It sounded like it was coming from your Common Room... Are you rearing snakes now?"
"Sounds ridiculous," Tom snarled, his voice cracking a little, "I think you're going insane... I didn't hear any hissing."
"I'm not going mad," Minerva countered, shooting him a look, "I know what I heard, and I doubt the Headmaster would be pleased to find you lot rearing snakes in your Common Room."
"No one's rearing anything," Tom sneered, rolling his eyes, "You're just mad. I knew brilliance came with a cost."
Minerva paused, and then frowned, "You think I'm brilliant?"
"Don't flatter yourself," Tom laughed, his arrogance finally returning, "Everyone does..."

Minerva felt her cheeks tint a little, and she glanced down at her shin guard. It looked a little cleaner than she last remembered, and she held it up to him, "Did you clean this?"
"No... Well, a little," he grumbled, wrinkling his nose, "It was filthy when you hurled it at me, so I figured I may as well tidy it up a bit if it was going to be in my room."

Minerva smirked at him, and he glanced at her, then returned it. They shared an odd moment, which was ruined as a fourth year couple walked hand in hand out of the Charms classroom, a grin on their faces. Tom rolled his eyes, "Hey! What do you two think you were doing?"
"This will be reported to your professors, Whitman, Harper," Minerva threatened, watching the two scamper off down the hall. Tom folded his arms, then snorted loudly, "I like being a Prefect."
For some reason, Minerva couldn't help but agree.