The young woman walked briskly across the corridor, her heels clicking on the extravagant marble flooring. She paused a step away from the ornate wooden door and took a deep breath before she entered.
She sat down in a plush chintz chair, smoothing her navy blue skirt down with both hands and avoiding looking at the young man opposite her, who bowed his platinum blond head too. He could not have been older than twenty-two, the same age as her, but as he handed her a vial of crimson liquid that looked more than a little like blood, he seemed to have aged twenty years in the mere two days that they had been apart.
Even as she took the vial from his pale long fingered hands, she was aching to touch him, hold him, and kiss away the tension in that finely chiseled face.
"It will make you forget," he told her, and for the first time since she had known him, really known him, his voice shook slightly, "….about us.."
He trailed off, staring at her intently and she made the mistake of meeting his eyes. Cold gray met brown and she felt herself melt. Why did they even have to do this? They could run away, far away from this war, this madness…
He saw the tears that threatened to spill as she warily examined the bottle of liquid and he longed to hold her, brush the stray brown curls from her face and kiss the tears away, but instead he straightened and stood up, "Well, goodbye, then," he said stiffly.
A smile tugged on the corner of her lips. She knew him too well. This emotionless façade was no good at hiding from her just how much he was hurting on the inside.
"Oh, D-," she began, but he cut her off as he kissed her. A long, lingering kiss, warm and tender as they held each other tight, neither of them wanting to let go…
Hermione Granger was cornered and she knew it. She looked down at her broken wand, useless to her now, and then looked up into the jeering, hooded faces of the Death Eaters surrounding her. Please let somebody come, she pleaded silently, eyes darting all around the deserted, dark alley.
"Kill her!" said a harsh voice and one took off his hood.
Draco Malfoy lifted his head to reveal brilliantly gray eyes and pointed his wand at the pretty witch in front of him. Hermione lifted her chin and looked him defiantly in the eye. She thought she saw a flicker of recognition in those expressionless eyes, but was proved wrong when he grabbed her roughly.
"I'll do it," he told his fellow Death Eaters, as they heard a resounding crash from one of the streets. They nodded, stepping back from the dark corner and running after another group of Death Eaters who were battling members of the Order and appeared to be badly outnumbered. As soon as they had disappeared, Draco completely removed his hood, his pale blond hair gleaming in the dimly lit alleyway.
Hermione shrank back against the wall as he stepped closer, bracing herself, when he spoke. This time it was softer and gentler, "Go! Run as far as you can!"
She blinked, confused and momentarily stymied. "You didn't drink it!" she accused.
"And neither did you," came the reply, "Now go, quick!"
Hermione touched his cheek lightly and for a fraction of a second everything seemed to perfect when he closed his eyes. Then she turned and disappeared into the black night.
