A/N: My first posted TR/MM. They intrigue me. :D This was a little random and rushed. Hope it made sense anyway. They're around 14-15 years old here. Possibly 16. Meh.

"Here's something that might interest you. Montrose Magpies Seeker dies."

"I'm not a fan."

It was a beautiful, sunny day and Minerva McGonagall and Tom Riddle were sitting under a tree by the lake. Tom was reading a copy of the Daily Prophet while Minerva was content to have her head in his lap, flicking through the most recent edition of Witch Weekly.

"But you feel no sympathy for the death of a fellow Quidditch player?" Tom asked, looking down at her.

"Of course I do, just not as much as I would if I had liked the team," she flipped the page, scowling at a picture of singer Annabelle Whiting. There was something about her squeaky voice that rubbed Minerva the wrong way. "Oh, listen to this. Annabelle Whiting, 28, recently checked into the Fosco Hotel under the anagram 'Angina Whiten-Bell', where she proceeded to party all night. In addition to her unruly methods, she was witnessed to have taken a variety of drugs and is currently recovering in St Mungo's." Minerva looked up at Tom and snorted. "Angina Whiten-Bell," she quoted. "That is pretty awful."

"Are you not a fan of anagrams?" Tom peered down at her.

"Only well done ones."

Tom turned the page of his newspaper as he contemplated the girl in his lap. "Are you sure you're not biased? You were never one of Whiting's more enthusiastic admirers..."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "I just think that she's a bit... dense. There are so many others out there who are blessed with so much more talent than her. And, honestly, that anagram was pathetic." She set aside her magazine and pulled out her wand. "We should make an anagram of our own names. They can't be as bad as hers." She lazily wrote her name in the air with her wand.

Intrigued, Tom folded up his newspaper and absently played with Minerva's hair. She was frowning at her name, considering the possibilities. "I am..." she muttered and moved the letters around the air. "M? G? L? Hmm."

While Minerva sounded out the vowels and consonants, Tom could feel his thoughts rushing through his head. An anagram would be perfect, he thought. Great wizards could not succeed with the name of their filthy muggle fathers. He scowled bitterly to himself.

"I've got it!" Minerva cried suddenly. "I am Lena McVonggral." She tilted her head to look up at Tom.

"That was awful," he smirked. "Lena McVonggral? You sound like a disease. McVonggral's Disease."

Minerva elbowed his leg. "Fine. It's your turn." She wrote his name in the air, not seeing him flinch at his own name. "Tom Marvolo Riddle. Yours could be fun. I'll start with I am." She waved her wand and the letters moved around.

"You could add in a 'Lord' in there," Tom said, studying the letters left.

"Lord?" Minerva giggled but she obliged and brandished her wand again. "I am Lord..."

"The 'Lord' sounds good, doesn't it?" he asked quietly, more to himself than to her. He could not ignore the feeling of an intense power stirring in his heart.

"Yes, very powerful," Minerva agreed distractedly. "I think a name beginning with 'V' would be interesting. Really, how many people do you know have names beginning with 'V'?" Without waiting for a reply, she adjusted the letters again.

Tom wanted a name so terrifying that people would be afraid to even whisper it aloud. He wanted to let go of any connection to his father's name and he barely registered Minerva's mutterings of, "That needs a vowel there... No, that sounds a bit awkward." He continued to imagine the fear he could cause with a new identity while Minerva continued to mumble possible names.

"Lord Voldemort?" Minerva uttered uncertainly, still in thought.

"That's perfect," Tom breathed.

"You think so?" Minerva's forehead creased. She felt Tom's body shift as he nodded silently. "I guess it's okay." She grinned up at him. "When we leave school, you'll be this amazing wizard the world will know as Lord Voldemort. And I..." she paused. "I will be keeping my name. You were right. McVonggral does sound ghastly."

"Of course I was right," he said cockily, although his mind remained occupied with his newfound alias. "Lord Voldemort," he repeated hungrily yet it was almost inaudible.

Minerva began speaking again, "We'll be famous one day. There won't be a witch or wizard in this world who won't know of our names."

"That is a promise," his eyes lit up at a potentially powerful future. He gazed down at her, disguising the ambitious look on his face.

Minerva reached up to hold his face and gently pulled him down for an upside-down kiss. "You'll be legendary, Lord Voldemort," she whispered against his lips.

"Naturally," he vowed enigmatically. Beaming at him, Minerva picked up her magazine and was reabsorbed in the weekly gossip of the world outside Hogwarts.

She did not see the ominous smile that was unfurling on Tom's face.

A/N: This may have been a little OOC on Tom's side. Oh well. I'm a firm believer that she brought out different emotions in him =X Thank you to Watson for 'Annabelle Whiting'! Also, I was re-watching HBP the other day and noticed how Minerva flinched and fidgeted when Dumbledore mentioned Tom Riddle/Voldemort at the feast. Haha, love it.