Mocha Cookie Crumble Cake: 1. Chocolate cake (Word: example) 2. Espresso pastry filling (Restriction: Can only include characters from before the Trio Era) 3. Espresso cookie buttercream (Genre: romance)
I don't even know if this fits the criteria.
I need to write it anyway.
Need to.
I have to.
They met like sparks to tinder, both mere fragments of a roaring fire, equal, yet opposite.
But yet, nothing lasts forever.
First year.
It had barely even been a week into the year, before the two, both alike, were at each other's throats, spewing curses and ruderies and ill intent towards one another.
Yet, when they met, that day in November, neither of the two emerged the victor.
One a Gryffindor, burning bright, heiress of an Ancient house.
The other a Slytherin, orphaned and alone, lost scion of a house long since buried.
Together they clashed, drawing one another to a duel, first on what little magic they possessed, then desperation, and then finally sheer stubbornness and unwillingness to lose.
Together, they fell, both exhausted, depleted, and together they are carted to the Hospital Wing.
The winter comes quickly, and the feeling of competition never fades, first manifesting as hatred, then as a grudging acceptance.
But yet neither is willing to compromise.
As the first year wanes, they nod towards one another, silently daring one another to be better the next year. Silently promising to set the example for the years to come.
Second Year.
Again the two clashed, once again drawing each other to exhaustion. Again, the awaken beside one another, but this time, there is no hatred.
Whether it is from disorientation of the aftereffects, or due to something else, the two part ways with a smile and a nod.
After all, what are they if not rivals?
The two rapidly find their callings, each different:
The girl, choosing to embrace the primal power of magic itself, and her path towards mastering the natural elements
The boy, determined to study and learn the intricate patterns lacing through world's most complex enchantments.
Their parting words are simple. Be better, I will be waiting.
Third Year.
What are once enemies, are now friends, despite what their houses say.
They meet again, and the duel lasts for minutes, neither willing to show weakness, of any kind to one another.
As they force each other to their knees, they silently share a nod, just before everything goes black.
They both awaken laughing.
The two work together now: with the boy weaving the patterns, and the girl empowering the runes, together tackling spells far beyond their age or experience would suggest.
Yet they know they cannot be beaten. They know that together, they are unstoppable.
They know that only at each others hands, would they ever know the taste of defeat.
They part with a quick embrace, before shuffling off in their separate ways, pausing only briefly to look back.
Fourth year.
Again, the two meet, but now, they have drawn a crowd.
An arrogant Slytherin dares to intervene upon the battle before him, only to be beaten down in an instant by the combined strength of the pair.
Individually, they are approached, enticed to draft into armies which are rapidly forming, to fight a war which never should exist.
Individually, The two slap away the contracts, the promises, the lies.
They turn to one another, each knowing the other to be true.
But yet, even as the sides form around them, they demand to stay neutral.
It is not their war. They will not allow it to become their war.
Together, they dig through mouldering old tomes, drawing complicated patterns from the dozen conflicting scripts. Together, they begin to unravel the workings of magic itself.
They part ways with a chaste kiss, leaving the two blushing as they scramble away.
Fifth year.
They meet again, and are not interrupted. The battle lasts for a dozen minutes, as the two continued to hurl spells at one another, neither willing to give an inch. Two forces, evenly matched.
As they force each other to their knees, neither of the two fades completely. Instead, they slowly rise back to their feet, and embrace.
The war has all but begun now: with the murder of a young girl fresh in the air. Yet, it does not concern the two. They know what they want in life, and they are determined to get it.
Together, they explore the castle, and find a place they can truly call theirs.
As they temporarily part ways for Yule, the boy sits, knees out of the window, watching the girl ride the train home.
Spring comes.
There is no sign of the girl.
What once was a comfortable normalcy is now nothing but panic and dread.
Denial has long set in, something, anything to stave away the pain.
He flees to their space, to the space they built together, and hides away from the world, praying for her to return. Refusing to win, not like this.
Come back, he begs. You're stronger than this.
He ends the year alone, empty and hollow.
Sixth year.
He is nothing but a shadow now: a pale imitation of who he used to be. He withdraws completely, isolating himself.
They try to recruit him, to a band known as the 'Death Eaters'. He wards them off, with first words, and then with magic.
He will not forget her. He refuses to. Everyone else seems to have, but he will remain.
He slowly loses himself to his studies, slowly going mad to the beat of a ticking clock, involuntarily pausing as he finishes each array, still unable to break the habit.
He sees the violence slowly erupt around him, but does not interfere.
Nothing matters.
Another year ends, a blank face permanently plastered upon his face. They all avoid him now, treating him like the leper he feels himself as.
Seventh Year.
They do not treat him as a person any longer, nor does he feel the urge to be.
Investigation has revealed much: an ancient family, slaughtered to the man.
The girl, her family.
And her body, never found. No bones, no rites, no burial.
He digs a small grave in absentia, something, anything to grant him closure.
Yet as his vision blurs, he can barely see the ground below him.
As his final work, he seals their hideout. Keyed to her. Keyed to them.
He leaves the school for the final time as another unremarkable Wizard, choosing to fade into obscurity.
He decides he deserves nothing less.
Seven years.
No longer a boy, now a man.
He is a hunter now, a vigilante determined to protect.
To prevent others from feeling his pain.
To keep what little memories he still has of her alive.
He finds a shadow, a strange imitation upon the roadside. But yet, the voice is unmistakable. The laugh, the walk. It flees as soon as it sees him.
He trails her, following her first through the forest, then through the swamps.
He will not give up the chase, no matter how difficult.
He finally tracks her to her old home, to the burned-out hulk in which she used to live.
There, the figure turns.
It is not the girl, not any more. Nor is it a woman. Rather, it is something else, something familiar, yet deeply wrong. Its face a mockery of what he remembers, its skin a pallor hue, its teeth in fangs, its fingers in claws.
Yet it reacts as if struck.
It glances towards the man, black eyes full of hope, of fear, of memories.
Kill me. It begs. You are the only one who can.
He only shakes his head as he draws his wand.
Together they meet, yet neither is the victor.
As he struggles to his feet, he approaches his former foe. Friend. Lover.
With not even a touch of hesitation, he lowers a hand to it.
And slowly, after a gasp of relief, his rival raises her hand up to his, and grasps tightly.