Disclaimer: The plot for this story was inspired by The Hero and The Crown by Robin McKinley. Everything you recognize belongs to the amazing JK Rowling, and everything you don't recognize belongs to me!

Tom Riddle didn't how much time had passed. Yet, he was aware of

every hour, every minute, and every agonizingly long second that had gone by since that

day. Though the time often blurred and collapsed in on itself, that

was one thing he could remember like it was yesterday...

He woke up to find Salianha looking at him. Not simply looking at

him, but staring, analyzing every one of his features critically. Suddenly, a

crinkle formed between her eyebrows, and she bit her bottom lip as her

eyes became wells; their pain was bottomless. He knew immediately that

their time was soon to be over. He pulled her down and there was a

crushing of lips and a meshing of souls. He squeezed his eyes shut against

the torrent behind his lids.

His old friends had tried to cheer him up, to keep him company the way

they did once upon a time. But, there were moments when Tom wondered

if anything but Salianha would ever be enough, for directly after the uneven

thump of Hero's hooves faded, he faded too. An outside observer would've seen his eyes shutter and his face drift into unnerving impassiveness.

He made his way back into his castle and sat. In the same place he sat now.

He faced the window, but wasn't quite seeing the beautiful view of the

violet mountains and crisp lake. Only Salianha's face in the eye of his mind.

At times, it was the only thing that kept him sane. The desperate hope that

one day she would return to him and they could be together until the stars

crumbled and the moon vanished from the sky.

"Tommy," said a small whisper. He rolled his eyes, severely irritated at

being shaken from his ponderings. "Tom," Lila's voice came again, more

urgently, and he felt something tug his fingers. It was one of the absconditus.

The Invisibles. The Hidden. The ones you may see if you looked out the

corner of your eyes at a certain angle, but then again might never have been

there at all. Also known as the pesky inherited servants that insisted on

attempting to engage him when they knew he was in bad mood.

"What?" Tom hissed, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"Hello to you too." Her voice responded.

"I really don't have time for this." He glared at the seemingly empty space

before him.

"But you have time to wallow in self-pity?" She snorted derisively.

"Are you always this infuriating?" Tom spat.

"Are you always this grumpy?" She huffed.

"Not that I don't adore our banter, but is there a purpose to this

conversation?" He attempted to draw a truce, but Lila was having none of

that.

"Must everything have a reason? Maybe I just wanted to see you." She

giggled slightly.

He sighed tiredly. "I'm not in the mood, Lila."

"You're never in the mood anymore." Her sadness lingered during the

silence that followed.

"Pay her no mind." Another voice drawled. It was Keith's.

"She was supposed to tell you," he put extra emphasis on "supposed"

and presumably glared at Lila, "that your girl's returned."

"What?" Tom sprang to his feet.

Keith's reply was never heard as Tom bounded down the steps.

He burst into the courtyard, and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the fierce light.

He scanned the courtyard urgently. As his eyes landed upon her, he felt his

face twitch in a long forgotten way. A smile, he realized.

"Tom!" She squealed and threw her arms around him. Her honey

colored hair glittered in the sunlight and her hazel eyes were aglow.

"You came back." He breathed, returning the hug. They sat down on

one of the benches and began to catch up.

Not much about her had changed. She was still witty, intelligent, and

strong-willed, nowhere near beautiful, but striking all the same. However, she

did seem more guarded. She kept her distance from him and would

discreetly scoot away when he moved closer. No matter. Her being there was

enough. He cocked his head to the side and looked at her again. More than

enough, he decided.

At some point during the evening, he reached out and took her hand in

his. He subconsciously began to rub the back of her hand. His golden skin

contrasted sharply with her fair skin. But, that gold and diamond ring on

her finger contrasted even more.

"And then..." Salianha's laughing voice trailed off as she took note of

the change in Tom's demeanor. His face was stone, still and unmovable,

save for the barely perceptible flaring of his nostrils.

"What's this?" He lifted up their twined fingers, his voice was

dangerously low.

"My wedding ring! Duh? You can't mean to tell me you've never seen

one before." She dimpled and playfully rapped the side of his head. "Hello?

Anybody in there?"

Tom saw red. How could she get married? Did she not know that he was up here

waiting for her? Had he been so utterly insignificant that she would forget all

they shared in the 832 days, 10 hours, 3 minutes, and 2 seconds they'd been

apart? Tom wanted to say he felt like he'd been punched in the gut, but that was totally

inadequate. He felt like he had taken a cutting hex to his

appendix, and the last few minutes of his life were spent under Grindelwald's

crucio without the mercy of unconsciousness.

"Get out." He forced the words out between clenched teeth.

"Why? I just got here and we haven't even-"

"GET OUT!" He roared.

"No. Not until you give me a decent reason." She said defiantly.

Tom's shoulders sagged and he looked at her with sad eyes. "Please.

Just leave." He whispered.

Salianha's eyes softened and she nodded. Had Tom been paying

attention, he may have seen her anguished expression. Her face was upset,

but not surprised. He might have noticed how reluctantly she mounted the

thestral. Maybe he would've seen the glint of unshed tears in her eyes. Or

the regret in her face when she looked back at him, as if she had expected

nothing less.

Alas! Tom was in no state of mind to be paying attention to such things.

His mind was numbly replaying the words he'd said the last time he'd seen

Salianha, before this disastrous meeting. " You will come back, right?

Permanently? This already hurts so much... If I had to let you go a second

time, it'd probably kill me." His handsome features twisted into the smirk

that the Wizarding World would one day fear as the last of his humanity disintegrated completely.

It seemed that Salianha's departure had killed Tom Riddle after all.