Minerva stood in the Slytherin dorm, eyes wide as she stared at Tom, unable to believe what he had just said. It was official he'd finally gone bananas.
"Tom you're talking nonsense," she muttered.
"No. I'm not." His voice sounded angry.
"Yes. You are. We don't cower to muggles. The International Statute of Secrecy has just created a world where both muggles and wizards and co-exist and thrive peacefully."
Tom's laugh fell cold and hard, like an iceberg cutting through the room. "You know how you ridiculous you sound when you say that? Brainwashed is what you are."
Minerva shook her head, feeling her own anger surge through her bones. "I sound ridiculous. You're talking like Charlemagne."
"Who the hell is-"
She rolled her eyes, fed up with Tom and his stupid delusions. She'd loved him and he was acting like an idiot. "You know exactly who Charlemagne is. Don't act like you weren't raised in the muggle world. Don't pretend. You're not five years old!"
His cold hand grasped her wrist and for the first time since the astronomy tower, Minerva was afraid of Tom Riddle. "It would be wise not to make fun of me, Minerva."
"At this particular moment, I don't think you're the best judge of what is wise or prudent."
His fingers slipped from her skin. "Wizards should not-"
"I'm not talking about that!" she shouted, feeling her insides break as she thought about Myrtle's death. About how had unleashed the beast who caused it.
"Then what are you-"
"A girl died!" shouted Minerva. "You killed someone, don't you feel any remorse?"
"She was a mudblood. What remorse should I feel?" he hissed through his teeth.
Without thinking it through, Minerva smacked Tom across the face. Hard.
His jaw clinched as he lifted his hand to the growing red mark on his cheek. "Don't hit me," he snarled.
"You deserve it."
"That's what you think of me, Minerva?"
She paused, staring at the man she'd fallen for. At the angle of his jaw, then sparking red in his eyes, the slim frame that had held her so many times.
"No. I think you're more than you let yourself be. I think you're more than darkness."
He scoffed.
"I think there is light in you. I've seen it. You've shown it to me. I think you're afraid of it."
Tom shook his head. "I'm not afraid. I just know that a wizard's rightful place is above those filthy muggles."
Minerva felt a tear in her eye. She rarely cried but she just couldn't stop herself. All she wanted was to kiss Tom, to hold him, to keep him forever. For a moment, she had let herself believe that was a possibility. That they could love each other. That belief seemed a million miles away now.
She stepped closer to Tom, lifting her hand to his face. He was tense but relaxed as her fingers grazed his cheekbone.
"Kiss me, Minerva," he whispered.
Heart tripping, she nodded and pressed her lips to his. Tom's hands gripped into her hair and she pulled him closer. Putting everything into this kiss. The last one they'd ever have. Lips and teeth and heat.
When their mouths parted, she placed another peck to his lips and breathed "I loved you so much."
Her hand dropped away from his frozen face.
"Are you going to tell anyone?" he asked.
Minerva glanced back at him, shaking her head. "No."
"One last chance, Minerva. Don't walk away from me, from us."
One tear escaping and streaming down her cheek, she turned to Tom and said "It wasn't me that walked away. It was you. You chose power and darkness over love and over me. The consequences are yours alone."
He opened his mouth but not words came out so, with her heart shattered, she left the Slytherin dorms and the man she still loved more than anything or anyone in the world. But she could not be a party to his self-destruction and she could not let him destroy her.
So she made a decision right then that whatever happened, she would not let Tom Riddle's Plan succeed.
Fifty-Five Years Later
Hogwarts was crumbling around her, just like the rest of the world. Voldemort was coming. Minerva stood on the steps of the school where all those years ago she'd kissed, touched, held and even loved the man who was no longer a man – who has coming to kill them. All of them.
Even her.
She wondered if he even remember their time together. If he even remembered what it was like to feel someone's skin against his, to feel kisses across his mouth. He couldn't, could he? Not if he could be so cruel, so heartless.
It didn't matter now though. All that mattered now was stopping him.
The wind blew harsh and cold against her wrinkled face as she pushed away thoughts of the sixteen-year-old Minerva away. Thoughts of what could have been between them. The life they could have shared. Dreams – so far gone.
As she stood, waiting for the battle to begin, she felt a tingly, cold sensation in the tips of fingers. She reached into the pocket of her cloak and removed two soft well worn red gloves and slipped them over her fingers.
It would be a cold night.
Thanks for reading the last chapter everyone. I appreciate any review you could give me on the story. Thanks again!
