A/N- More lyrics from Solsbury Hill at the end.

Trust

Moa rocked back and forth on her heels, involuntarily. She would say the room was spinning, but it was honestly her daydreams that flashed across her eyes, making her dizzy. The day that Layla left was all that filled her mind. She couldn't hear the outside world any longer, reality was spinning out of control. Moa didn't even notice when the edges of her vision started to turn black. Numbness clouded her, and Moa didn't realize how hard she was gripping Layla's ribbon until one of her fingernails pierced her skin, letting her blood run free. Dumbledore grabbed Moa's forearm, and slowly lowered her into an old, yet sturdy rocking chair. Dumbledore quickly kneeled down to her height, directly in front of her. He grabbed her face, all the while gentle, and tried to bring her back from the depths of her mind.

"Moa please, I know this is horrible,"Dumbledore pushed aside Moa's bangs with his thumb,"But you've got to see reason. What happened to Layla wasn't a consequence of leaving Voldemort and joining the other side. Because it does not matter what side you are on, for you can not escape the other. Do you understand, Moa? Layla was a fighter, and she would always have gone down fighting."

All she could manage as a reply was a nod. Dumbledore gave her a deep nod in return, his eyes fierce. They stayed like that for what felt like a lifetime, both trying to catch their breath. There was an intricately carved grandfather clock to Moa's left, its' pendulum rocking in time with the her breathing. The clock struck midnight, with twelve ear pounding chimes following the arrow's signal. This apparently, was a sign that Albus Dumbledore should depart. With a sigh, he double checked the clock.

"I suppose I'll leave you alone, then,"Albus rose from his knees carefully, though seemed to be in a hurry.

Moa didn't show any sign of hearing his words.

Standing, Dumbledore looked down at Moa, his twinkling eyes gleaming from reflected moonlight. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. In a swift motion he headed for a wooden door to Moa's right. As the door swung shut, a bumpy, wrinkled hand appeared to stop it.

Half of Dumbledore's face was all that could be seen as he added halfheartedly,"In times like these, I recommend taking a lemon drop."

With that, the door slammed shut. Its' boom left a small echo in the room, where Moa slouched in a daze. It wasn't just the fear that overwhelmed her, or even the sorrow. It was the doubt, the uncertainty about changing sides that gave Moa the funny feeling in her stomach.

Am I doing the right thing? Do I even deserve to do the right thing?

She examined her situation. Even though Moa couldn't see Albus Dumbledore anymore, she still felt like she was being watched. Still, instead of getting the creeps, she felt a sense of security. This old man just seemed like the absolute good, and Moa no longer doubted Layla's judgement.

There was that pang of guilt again.

I could've stopped her that night. She was my friend, she would have listened.

Little comfort came to her when Moa reassured herself that this was a lie, that Layla would never have changed her mind. After all, it had been made up long before she had consulted Moa. Among these thoughts, Moa's instincts demanded her to assess her situation.

It's dangerous to let my emotions override me like this. I just gotta concentrate. Remember what The Dark Lord taught you?

Moa never called Lord Voldemort "dad," not even in her thoughts. He didn't like it, He wanted to be addressed with respect. So The Dark Lord was what she knew him by.

Moa Riddle was brought up to be a suspicious person, and as soon as she collected her thoughts she started searching the room for possible exits, in case she needed a quick getaway. She meant to stay where she was, but all the curious objects around the room made her unconsciously get up and examine them. Across a carpet with a hippogriff and a griffin she went, and started her examinations at a silvery desk with claws at the feet. It was simply covered with ink bottles with ink quills inside of them. That may be a bit strange, but what was so curious to Moa was the feathers on each of the quills. They belonged to creatures she had never seen before, and she had seen a lot.

The sound of a faraway door creaking open startled her, and she moved on. Although there were many other curious artifacts and contraptions, they were largely outnumbered by Dumbledore's books. They were everywhere, large, small, old, and new. Some books looked like they had never been used, others worn to the bone as if used too much. But what caught Moa's eye was a book called Unforgivable Curses. The book was leather bound in red, with tears on the binding that look like they came from some sort of animal. Yet what Moa was really questioning was why it was so thick when there was only three Unforgivables. Unable to resist, she opened the book, preparing to search for a table of contents. But the page she flipped to was a moving picture of someone being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse. Moa was suddenly very concerned. She flipped through the rest of the book quickly, and only found more and more images of the curses being used. Her eyes widened as she heard her name, called from the man who owned this book. She turned around and found him there, hands on his hips and fingering his beard.

"Have you ever thought about asking before you looked through people's things?" Dumbledore asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

Moa's mind raced, searching for an exit from memory, afraid to use her eyes as if to draw attension to her next move.

"Relax Moa, I'm not here to hurt you. And I don't believe in using those curses anyways."

"What? Why would you have a book like this if you didn't like the curses?" Moa's voice revealed pure disbelief. Her questions were merely there to buy herself some time.

"Because I needed to study them to solve something. If you're not going to trust me, then are you not going to trust Layla either?"

This got Moa.

Her parents worked for him for years... decades even! And The Dark Lord was worried about her escapement. Why would he care about Layla finding him if this guy was on His side?

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at her silence.

"I... I don't know what to believe," Moa admitted, showing no emotion.

A beat passed. Both wizards seemed to be deep in thought. Moa remembered how Dumbledore was, trying to comfort her after she learned of the death of her childhood friend. It was hard to believe that not thirty minutes had passed since the news. However, it was expected for Moa to put aside her emotions. She had been trained to be that way. Until she was alone, Layla was just a stranger to Moa. She was almost embarrassed to have shown any emotion at all. Almost.

"She tied it there before she left that day, I don't know why. I keep it there in her memory."

Her mind was made up.

"You don't work for The Dark Lord," Moa stated.

Dumbledore gave a grave half smile,"No Moa, I certainly do not."

Relief mixed with caution surged through Moa. Relief for Albus Dumbledore's morals, and caution for what was to come next.

Both wizards were fighting for good, both wizards were going through a lot for their age, and both wizards started speaking at nearly the same time.

"They'll-" Moa began.

"Did-" Dumbledore questioned.

Both were silent before Dumbledore pressed Moa onward.

"Yes?"

Moa closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, searching for her words by collecting her thoughts.

"They'll come looking for me, won't they," Moa stated rather than asked.

Albus Dumbledore didn't let his gaze leave her eyes. There was no need to create any unneeded drama.

"Yes," he replied, more matter-of-fact than worried.

A flash of irritation flamed across Moa's eyes.

"Are we gonna take any precautions or am I gonna have to run away from them again?"

Nothing but calm radiated from Dumbledore's body as he assured Moa.

"There will be precautions, I assure you.,"Dumbledore started to pace the room,"As of right now, there are only four people that know of our location. You and I, of course. A trusted friend,"Dumbledore stopped, as if rethinking something," ....and Nicholas Flemmel."

He was something to observe,

Came in close, I heard a voice.

Standing, stretching every nerve,

I had to listen, had no choice.