Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This applies to all following chapters.

A/N: Welcome to this story. The title is adapted from Pablo Neruda's Sonnet 17. Some parts of this story might be familiar to you (if you've read my other stories) since I've written them for The Houses Competition and decided to make a whole story out of it.

Most of the story is unbetaed - so if anyone is interested in helping me a little with it, please send me a PM :) I'm not a native, so please excuse any mistakes.

This is quite a dark story. M for violence in later chapters (I'll put warnings up accordingly) and the aftermath of it. But it's also a love story, don't worry. :) I have written it a while ago and decided to post it now. So far, it's a WIP. I'll try to update as often as possible.

Part I

Once upon a time, an angel and a devil fell in love. It did not end well.

PROLOGUE

"Run, Malfoy. Goddamit, come on!" Hermione cried desperately and pulled him over the uneven forest floor. He heard the Snatchers call to each other and the cracking branches under their feet. They were close now. Too close. Way too close.

"Draco! We're gonna make it, I promise!" Hermione beside him panted as if she had read his thoughts. Because he was quite sure it was impossible to reach the safety of the hidden cave and the tent, where Potter and Weasley were waiting for them.

But Draco still clenched his teeth and ran. His ankle sent burning pain up his legs – he'd accidentally stumbled over a root because he'd looked back at their pursuers – and his breath came in panicked gasps. He couldn't run much further and much faster, but if he didn't, they'd catch them. And he didn't want to think about what would happen if they did.

We would die.

The thought pushed itself into his mind, together with images of a tortured girl. He couldn't let that happen. Not her. Not again.

Suddenly, he stumbled and fell to the harsh ground, twisting his already hurt ankle again. Hermione grabbed his elbow and pulled him back up with more strength than she could possibly possess, being exhausted and hurt as she was.

"Draco!" she screamed panic-stricken and sent a curse over her shoulder. "Please!"

He only hissed lowly and tried to repress the pain in his ankle, which had doubled since his recent fall. But he couldn't permit himself to slow down. They had lost precious seconds through his clumsiness, seconds they would need to climb into the cave and warn their friends.

The Snatchers were close now. He could hear their panting and the curses flying over their heads. A cutting curse hit Hermione beside him and she stumbled. Now it was his turn to pull her forward.

"Just my arm," she choked out and kept on running. How could she be so strong? Draco had never before realised that she was the strongest person he knew.

"Hermione," he uttered breathlessly. "I can't … you keep on running, go to the cave, and Disapparate with them at once. I lure them … away."

She ignored his words, instead pulling him roughly down the slope. He could already see the covert entrance of the cave.

Safety.

But the Snatchers would be able to see it as well. They'd find them, would see them, would know where they were.

"Hermione!" he pleaded. "Please. Hide."

"I won't leave you. You saved us, I can't leave you behind," she answered stubbornly, but seemed to realise that they would lead the Snatchers right to their hiding place.

They both knew that they couldn't risk the discovery of Potter and Weasley. It would be the end of the Wizarding World; well, probably the end of the Muggle World as well. It was bad enough that he and Hermione had been stupid enough to be followed by Snatchers.

Hermione pulled her wand. "Expecto Patronum."

He barely noticed the silver otter that sprang from her wand. Then she aimed it backwards. "Bombarda maxima."

The explosion pushed them forward and Draco fell down again.

"Reducto." With a quick wave of her wand, Hermione had lifted the wards and aimed the Reductor Curse at the secret entrance of the cave. With a bit of luck, it would look as if it had been affected by the explosion. Potter and Weasley would be safe.

Hermione grabbed his arm again and pulled him to his feet. A red jet of light missed her by a hair's breadth. Quickly, Draco followed her example and fired another Bombarda at the Snatchers. This time the explosion was much closer and much more powerful, and it whirled them through the air like puppets.

All air was pushed out of his lungs when he landed hard on the ground. Draco was sure that at least one rib was broken. It hurt like hell. Still he turned and searched for Hermione. There. Chestnut coloured curls were spread over fallen leaves. "Hermione?"

She stirred and looked up. He cringed when her brown eyes met his grey ones. They were so full of determination it scared him. Although he could see that she was in pain, she got up and hobbled over to him.

"Get up, Malfoy!" she commanded roughly and tried to pull him up. "We need to Disapparate."

He reached for his wand, but it was gone. It must have fallen out of his hand. "My wand," he gasped.

"Dammit. Malfoy," she cursed. "Accio." The walnut wand – the wand of his aunt – zoomed through the air, and he caught it with the hand of a Seeker. At once, he fired a stunning spell at a Snatcher, who was just about to stand up.

"Let's go," he growled and clenched his teeth in pain, trying desperately to pull himself up.

"Do you trust me?" she whispered and took his hand.

"Do you even have to ask?" He rolled his eyes and turned with her on the spot, but there was no feeling of being pressed very hard from all directions, and the world around them stayed just the same.

"Anti-Disapparition-Jinx," Hermione realised and looked at him with large eyes. They were trapped, surrounded by Death Eaters and Snatchers. There was no way out.

Simultaneously, they held their wands tight in front of them, back to back, almost touching each other.

There was no question of what Draco would do. He wasn't a coward anymore, and he wouldn't give up. He had come to realise that he'd give everything for Hermione and for the cause: the destruction of Voldemort.

And all it had taken for him to find out who he really was arose from the girl and her two friends on a suicide mission to kill the biggest monster of them all.

Draco's only regret in that moment was that Hermione would be killed as well. He wished he could explain everything to her – his behaviour, his beliefs, his feelings – before they died, because die they would. "Hermione, I …" he choked out, reaching for her hand.

"I know," she whispered and took it.

Together, they awaited their fate. They might die, but they would do it fighting.