They see each other at the exact same time. Chocolate locks with mercury. He thinks she looks beautiful, even covered in dirt and sweat. She notices that he's changed, his skin sallow and his cheekbones sunken in. Her eyes ask him a single question. In return, his eyes are guarded. She takes a step towards him. He raises his wand. Her brow furrows and she feels dread wash over her.
She was so sure that he was honest. Maybe his time with the Death Eaters has changed him, she thinks. Maybe he doesn't love you anymore. Her heart breaks a little at this thought.
Suddenly, a bright, blinding light spills out of his wand and she knows this is the end. He's not the same boy she fell in love with. She closes her eyes and waits for the pain in her heart to end, but it doesn't. She stays still for a moment, not quite sure, but she cracks an eye and he's standing there, looking at her with those eyes.
She glances around and sees him, a Death Eater, on the ground a meter or so behind her. He doesn't move, but his eyes are wide with fear. She turns back to him and he's giving her a smirk, but it doesn't have its normal confidence. She can't help but wonder how much they've broken him and his spirit.
He doesn't waste time, running down the corridor. She opens her arms and she welcomes the familiar warmth of his body.
"I would never hurt you," he whispers, his voice raspy. "I love you, Hermione."
She can't help but laugh at her stupidity for doubting him. She wraps her arms around his neck and holds him tighter. She never wants to let him go. "I love you too," she says quietly.
They quickly disentangle, but their fingers are still intertwined as they run down the hallways, sending spells flying. He stops and she does too. They're facing him. His white-blond hair, so much like his son's, is matted and dirty and he too looks sickly like his son, but he still has an aura of arrogance and superiority that his kin now lacks. His cold eyes narrow in on their hands, locked together, and she feels the boy she loves tense next to her, his knuckles white as he grips his wand. He moves to stand in front of her, protective as always.
His father arches an eyebrow and walks towards them. She can't help but feel like prey being approached by a predator.
He's close now and he shoots her a dirty look that lets her know exactly what he thinks of her before turning to his son. "I hope you know what you're doing" is all he says.
His son nods. "I do."
"Good." Then he stalks off, his robes flowing after him as he carelessly sends stunning spells at anyone who approaches him.
She tugs on his arm and they continue walking. Everything has slowed down, but there are still little battles raging. Voldemort is gone, but his followers refuse to give up. They're fighting, but they're outnumbered and failing.
He suddenly pulls her into an empty, half-destroyed classroom and casts an anti-intruder jinx and a locking spell, just to be safe. He pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling her neck.
She tries to protest. "We need to help."
"Please," he begs, his voice small and frail. "Please."
Her heart breaks then. He's not supposed to be like this—he's supposed to be strong and sure, not breakable like a porcelain cup.
She moves them so they're behind the teacher's desk and they sit there, hugging each other tightly, their limbs curled up together, wordlessly trading their pain and their fears with each other. She still holds her wand in an iron grip, but relaxes against him. He does the same. They're not sure how long they sit there, but they don't care because to them, all that matters is each other.
"Hermione," he says, breaking the silence. "Never leave me, please."
She kisses his forehead. "Don't be silly. I would never think of leaving you."
He smiles faintly and they lapse into silence again. He sits up finally, moving his arms away, only to have one hand cup her cheek and the other play idly with a curl of her hair. Slowly, he begins to kiss her collarbone, then her neck, moving his way up to her lips. She strokes his arm in response, keeping one hand firmly around his neck because she can't stand the thought of him moving away. He lightly pecks her lips and she sighs with content.
"Marry me."
He looks at her for a moment, his expression slightly shocked, before he gives her a grin that melts her heart and makes her think that maybe his spirit is still there, somewhere. "I thought Prince Charming was supposed to propose."
She grins back. "Prince Charming was taking too long," she responds. "So?" She runs her fingers through his ruffled blond hair affectionately and places a chaste kiss on his forehead.
"You're the only person I could ever spend the rest of my life with."
"Good."