A/n: I felt that this needed to written before we go on with the 'battle' – Minerva needed it. I needed it and you need it.

Drabble 94.

Only in the sanctuary of her rooms, could she be herself, her true self. Within the walls of her rooms, she could laugh, cry, walk around naked without having to justify, explain or excuse. As she closed the door behind her and leaned against the heavy oak of it, only then did she allow the tears to fall. They cascaded down her cheeks and unashamedly sunk into her tartan dressing gown. She could weep openly within these walls.

Never had she expected it to turn out like this!

'I promise to be true to you always,'

The words he had spoken on their wedding day floated through her mind as she sank down to her knees.

'You are the light to my darkness,"

Had she ever been a source of light to his darkness? Had he fooled her to thinking that? Or had she fooled herself to think that?

'Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, falling in love with you was beyond my control.'

Did she believe in fate? In choices? In Control? She had when he spoke the words. It had been the most romantic thing that anyone had ever said to her. It had made her fall in love with him all over again.

Her hands were shaking; her breathing was short and shallow as she tried to gain control of herself. At this precise moment, she felt nothing but sorrow and the sheer unfairness of everything. Her exquisite world that she created with the man she loved, that consisted of just them had turned into something cruel, something unimaginable. She had remained strong to get her through seeing him daily, it had been the only way but when he had jumped from that window, her heart plummeted. Had he died? She had broken in that instant. How she had kept it together in the classroom was beyond her. She could only put it down to having Harry and Luna nearby and not wanting them to see her that way. She had felt elated when she caught slight of figure flying off in the distance. She had known it was him. The relief only lasted briefly because the realisation of the situation had cruelly hit her. There was such a fine line between love and hate. She loved him despite of all that happened and hated him for all that happened.

How was she going to get a handle on this?

She didn't have time to get it under control. There were Death Eater's, in their hundreds stalking the perimeters of her school. She had children to get to safety. She had to lead her friends, the family she had chosen into something that had no guarantees. It all seemed easier when Albus made the decisions, she would blindly follow the orders. It was easier that way, they hadn't been her decisions. She hadn't had to think what orders could mean, what the knock on effects of making them could be. The blood on hand's of those who made the orders. The choices were impossible. There would be time after to reflect….if she made it.

The only things she did know, were that she had to be appear confident, unafraid and ready to fight and she was ready.

She rose to her feet with renewed purpose, stripped herself of her tartan dressing gown and night dress and pulled on her lightest black robes. It was time to bring Tom Riddle and his kind to their knees.