The boy, mindlessly moving to the moonlit night. He moves as fluid as a dancer, as fluid as the vast pool of nothing, of water, of death beside him. He asks himself what he's doing as he falls, staring at the stars, the trees, the castle. He should be asleep, not outside. What was he waiting for? Nothing. No one. No one will be coming for him, no one will be there for him when it's time for this war, whatever his part is in it. So what was he waiting for?
The boy in the woods knows who he's waiting for.
The second boy watches the dancer lay on the ground from the shadow of the forest, not moving. He wasn't afraid of the darkness of the trees, not anymore, but he was afraid of this boy. His palms rubbed against the tree behind him, longing for that other person… He watched as the first boy stood up and jumped into the lake, ripping off his shirt on the way. He knows what the first boy is waiting for, the sweat on his body tells him so. Was he nervous? He was never nervous; he couldn't be. It was only a boy, after all. He'd taken on worse.
The second boy stepped out from the shadows, painfully slowly, knowing the first boy wouldn't notice until it was too late. He slowly stepped into the vast blackness of water, being as quiet as a killer, slithering into the water like the deceiver he is. The first boy was floating belly-up, giving himself to the sky, absorbing the moon. The deceiver deliberately made a splash to shake the heavens apart, moving the old headmaster, slowly decaying in his porcelain grave.
The first boy and second boy came face to face, no outside influences to make them hate, loathe, scar each other. There was no one else in the waist-high water, with the moon glinting off the platinum hair, the marks of evil, the emerald eyes. The second boy stepped toward the first, hand out. There was no turning back. Their noses touched, lips met. Hands were on faces, backs, chests. For one moment, there was no hate, no thoughts of threats. All arguments were forgotten. They moved like dancers out of the water, onto the shore. Titles were left behind in the castle; there wasn't a Death Eater or a Golden Boy. The dancer, the deceiver, together, in this moment.
He knows who will be waiting. He knows that there's still time.
There's a life ahead of the one they're living. It starts here.