"It's alright, Albus. Right now I really need to be alone."

"It's not safe out tonight, Minerva."

"I won't be going out." She left Albus Dumbledore with a sweep of her robes, heading off to the Astronomy Tower. A slip of hair came undone from the tight coif she kept her hair in. She had given serious consideration towards cutting off her long mane, but the thought of what he would say to that made her change her mind.

But then, why should he have any say in her life? He was gone now and she could make her own decisions.

All the same, the thought of parting with her hair was enough to make her shudder. There were too many memories locked within each strand. If she shut her eyes, she could still feel him running his hands through it. Albus was a fine man and a gentle lover, but she would be lying if she said that Albus made up for him. He had his passion.

And in the end, it was that passion that proved his downfall.

She reached the Astronomy Tower, looking out over the land of Hogwarts, her eyes drifting up at the stars.

Was he looking up at the sky now? He always did love the stars.

I'll be your candle on the water
My love for you will always burn

He had come into her life when they were being sorted for their Houses. He had been silent and shy, not daring to go near the other students, his fingers idly picking at a strand of thread that had come loose form his shirt. He had been scrawny and looked both fearful and curious at each little hint of magic. Needless to say, he had been transfixed by Hogwarts and, later on, she had become transfixed with him.

She had been surprised and annoyed that he had been sorted into Slytherin and she had not. Destined to Gryffindor, there had to have been a mistake. If she were not meant for the snake's house, then why not Ravenclaw?

Minerva would have liked to blame the differences within their Houses as they reason why they were not together, but she could not do that. That would be a passing of the blame that did not lie within the Sorting Hat, but within their own souls.

I know your lost and drifting,
But the clouds are lifting

He was gone from her now. Gone to make the world a better place, or so he said. But what constituted a better place? What could possibly make the world better than it had been when she had woken up in his arms, her body entangled with his own, a soft breath upon her arm that said he was still asleep?

He had looked so innocent then even though she now knew the truth. She wanted to blame the Dark Arts for being there, for making him lose his focus in her, for making her jealous of books of all things. Books, that had once been her salvation, were now her misery. Books and sacrifices and bloodletting and impossible transformations. She had known of his obsession even before she had started dating him.

It was blatantly obvious when members of his own House would look upon him in scorn and she wished for a way she could ease his own pain, for he would only allow her to see him suffer. With her, he dropped all pretenses, all arrogance, with her he was not afraid to cry. And she would hold him and he would say a number of things as to how one day he would get back at them, how he would be pure, how he would make them feel humiliation.

And in the end, she would kiss him and it would all be better.

But time got the better of them and kissing just didn't seem to help anymore.

Don't give up you have somewhere to turn.

She had walked out on him in desperation, hoping, praying that he would follow her. Would drop those accursed books and go where he was wanted, where he was needed. She was still waiting for him, even though she knew it to be futile.

She had made the wrong choice. Had done what she had sworn she never would do. She had turned her back on him and walked away, leaving him to the mercy of whatever dark forces had nestled deep into his soul, tearing him apart and pushing everything and everyone away.

But even now, she waited for him to come to her. She could not go to him, his new self would not permit that. She would not live long enough to glimpse his face. He would have to go to her.

Like a tragic Greek play of two lovers that could not move through the chasm that divided them, they stayed, molded to the rocks, unable to see or touch the other. And she needed to see him, to explain, to apologize, to try to bring him back from what had ripped him from her in the first place.

I'll be your candle on the water
Till every wave is warm and bright

She would hold out for him, she knew. He was still in her mind during her courtship and subsequent marriage to Dumbledore. He was still in her mind on the cold and lonely nights that she opened her eyes to see black hair but instead, saw only auburn.

He was still in her mind each time she caught a Slytherin in the act of some misdeed. He had taught her that not every Slytherin deserves hardship, that he probably would not have hated himself so much had it not been for a school that openly despised him. She would be fair and stern to everyone. She would wear green.

She would stand at the Astronomy Tower on the day of their anniversary, searching the darkness for the tint of red eyes, for the black hair, for his name to be whispered upon the wind. She kept an eye out for him in case he should ever come back.

My soul is there beside you,
Let this candle guide you

She had once dreamed that he had come back to her. He had staggered in, a bit less human than she had first thought, but so very much him. His same fire that had not burned out, his passion, his glory.

Albus had understood her need for him and he knew now just why she chose him. He who was strong enough to come looking for her, who needed her as much as she needed him. Her once lover, her always lover. The man she had first given herself to and the man whose own virginity she had claimed.

He had kissed her, spoke words of love to her, agreed that he needed her help, that he needed her and she, in all her happiness, could not deny him anything, could only hold him. She had kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his lips. How familiar he tasted! And he kissed her back, touching her with those same slender hands she remembered so well.

He was so beautiful and she fit so well within his arms.

It was for that dream that she held out hope that he would come to her. That he would love her once again and she could love him.

Soon you'll see a golden stream of light

So it was that she stood at the Tower, ever searching for him. A hand slipped to the back of her head and untied the coif. Raven tresses spilled down around her, moving soundlessly with the breeze.

She wished time would reverse so that when he did come, he could behold the beauty he had fallen in love with, could see her own love for him radiating within her eyes, drawing her back to him.

Hogwarts was ever so dark tonight, but it shone brilliantly in the Astronomy Tower. She would light his way for him or die trying. She would bring him out of his own darkness and allow him to follow her. She would not lead him wrong this time.

If only he could forget that she had abandoned him. If only he could forgive her for that one act. If only he would go back to being himself again.

A cold and friendless tide has found you
Don't let the stormy darkness pull you down

But he wasn't Tom any longer. He was something else. He was a name, now feared to be spoken. Minerva could not say it herself. Not for the fear of the name, but the deep sadness and regret that went along with it. Once, she had known that man. The brilliant but sad boy underneath that mask had once kissed her with such tenderness and devotion that no one would ever believe her if she chose to make it public.

He had loved her and he still did love her. He had to. This wasn't just a foolish hope on Minerva's part. Tom Riddle, whatever remained of him, was still within her own heart and he still remembered her. He had not touched her, not gone after her, not even when word of her marriage to Dumbledore got around.

She had been expecting anger, rage, an attack even as to this betrayal. She had received only empty nothingness. A sign that either he was indifferent or that he still felt for her. She preferred to believe in the latter. If she could be the one to walk away and still feel this gap within her chest, then he must feel something as well.

Something stronger than any transformations he could have undergone.

I'll paint a ray of hope around you
Circling in the air, lighted by a prayer

She did not know what to feel when news of Voldemort's massacres reached the ears at Hogwarts. Albus would always frown. The teachers would always bow their heads in remembrance of the lost. The Aurors would just strengthen their resolve. But what did she do? What did she feel?

She hoped that Tom would come back to her. She hoped that it wasn't too late for him, as though each death he contrived, each murder he planned, drove him further and further away from her safety and her own guiding light. A very plausible thought that, as Albus called for his death in so many different ways without ever stating it outright.

She feared for his safety, his sanity, and whatever was left of her lover. But all she could do was wait for him. This helplessness made her wish to scream more often than the thoughts of him could comfort.

I'll be your candle on the water
This flame inside of me will grow

Albus told her to stop looking for him, to stop hoping. "What's done cannot be undone. He has made his choice. You have made yours. We cannot go back in time to change what must be."

But nothing had to be, Minerva knew. Tom did not have to be the Dark Lord. He did not have to murder hundreds of people. Just as Dumbledore did not have to raise up an army against him. Just as..but if Albus didn't do so, then who would? Certainly not her with her need for him. Minerva depended on Albus not just for guidance, but for direction. For life. He needed her love, she needed his support. He was kind, he was gentle, he was safe.

But Tom was..something else. Something glorious. Something she had wanted to keep all to herself and he was gone now. By all rights, she should move on, but she couldn't. Not with all her regrets. Not with all her broken dreams.

She needed to learn how to live again and Albus was the key to doing so. All the same, whenever she walked through Hogwarts, she could see shadows on the wall, hear whispers of "Pretty girl" and "Kitty." They were only visions in her head, yet they seemed so real in the dark of night.

Perhaps life was just one big waking dream, one she could not get out of, not through any normal means possible.

Keep holding on, you'll make it
Here's my hand so take it

She wondered what would happen if she suddenly jumped out of the Tower. Would he suddenly be there to catch her, just as he had been there before. It wasn't until after she had left him that she realized how much she had come to rely on him for. He was always ready with a compliment, a smile, a touch. The loss of that when he became lost in the Dark Arts was nothing to the loss of him when she had left.

At least when he was absorbed in his books, she could always see him. Now, he simply wasn't there and she felt the loss sting at her insides. There was a hole in her life and she knew that she had placed it there herself.

She had walked out on him, hoping that he'd follow, but he hadn't. Did she misplace her trust in him or did he not think she was worthy enough to go after when compared to the Dark Arts? Did he prefer blood sacrifices over her? And if so, what a horrible blow to her self-esteem and what horrific nature had been inside Tom the entire time to force him to come to that conclusion?

But she still remained, waiting for him, listening to news of him being pulled down deeper and deeper into his own pit of despair. Hatred breeds hatred and the Tom she knew was filled with self-hatred. Was he still like that, gaining in power while losing it over himself?

He had wanted so much and yet, when all the facts were considered, he had lost nearly everything.

Except her. She was still waiting for him. If only he would realize this.

Look for me reaching out to show
As sure as rivers flow,

One day, he would come back to her. Whether it be to kill her and put an end to both their misery or to take ahold of her hand, she wasn't sure. But she would accept either choice so long as it made him happy. So long as he forgave her for leaving him. So long as he would smile for her.

Above everything else, she missed his smile. She doubted his minions made him grin. She doubted death gave him any joy. What he was doing was only a means to an end. He had devoted his life to the Cause. But what about what he had left behind? What about the one that left him behind?

Did he think he was alone in the world now? Now that everyone he had ever cared about had left him, had abandoned him. Did he truly think of himself as utterly alone as he had been when he had first come to Hogwarts?

Was he scared?

Minerva ached with the knowledge that he was, that he felt himself abandoned, that she had caused him pain yet stood here, wanting to undo the damage she had done. Two nights out of the year, their anniversary and the day she left him, she stayed within the Astronomy Tower.

No matter what Albus told her, she could not abandon her post. She could not leave the outlook. She simply could not stop waiting for him.

I'll never let you go
I'll never let you go
I'll never let you go

Another night, come and gone. Her cloak was wrapped around her.

Was that a glint of red she saw? No. Just the sun about to come up. He wasn't out there. Another night, come and gone.

Wrapping her shawl tighter around her thin body, she left the Tower, her head still held high even as her heart sank with the rejection of the night.

In the far distance, two crimson eyes shone from the shore of the Hogwarts lake. They had been fastened to the figure in the Astronomy Tower for nearly the entire night. For two days out of the year, he came here to will his once lover to look down upon him and see him.

She never looked his way.