Darkness surrounded them as they stood together in their spot, hidden between one of the school's old iron greenhouses and the towering structure that is Hogwarts. They'd been meeting here in secret for years, him too afraid to tell the world that they were friends, had been ever since she'd barged into his compartment on the Hogwarts Express, her face flushed, her hair wild as she demanded if he had seen a toad. Six years they had hidden their friendship, putting up a front of hate and prejudice whenever anyone else were around. He called her a Mudblood, she called him a conniving ferret but, in their spot, hidden away from those who expected them to conform, to be the bigoted Slytherin and the brave Gryffindor they were the best of friends, lovers and kindred spirits. They'd been through a lot together; survived separation when she was petrified, when he fell back on the teachings of his family and almost ruined everything, they'd worked through jealousy and realised they loved one another. He hadn't thought anything could hurt as much as the time she'd walked into the Yule Ball on the arm of Victor Krum, but he was wrong, this was harder, cut him to his core.

"What do you mean you're leaving;" Hermione cried, her hands clenching the fabric of his black shirt desperately.

"The task I was given, it's complete, as complete as it can be, by dawn it will be done and I will no longer be welcome at this school," he told her, his voice braking.

"Let me help you, we can go to Professor Dumbledore," she begged him, wiping furiously at her tears that refused to abate.

"It's too late to help, to late for redemption, I can't escape this, I'm branded Mi. The only thing I can do is survive, do my task, and I live to see another day, my mother gets to live for another day," he told her, a lone tear making its way down his alabaster cheek as he stared into her beautiful doe shaped chocolate eyes.

"It's not fair, you didn't want it," she cried, her hands clamping around his left arm, the dark sleeve the only thing between her and the evil tattoo embedded in his flesh.

"I didn't get a choice, punishment for my fathers' sins" he told her with a humourless chuckle.

"We could leave, run away, somewhere he can't find us," she told him.

"That would be selfish of us, we both have our parts to play in this oncoming war; I'll be the reluctant villain and you will be the beautiful heroine who helps Potter defeat the darkness. The Order needs your brains Granger," he told her quietly.

"But I love you," she whispered brokenly.

"I love you too," he told her, his voice croaking as he pulled her into his arms. Hermione buried her head into his chest as she sobbed, both clinging to each other for what might be the last time. Draco cried unashamedly, his tears falling atop of her gorgeous coffee curls. How long they clung to one another Draco was unsure of but eventually Hermione's crying creased, and she peered up at him, dried salty tracks still clinging to her cheeks.

"Promise me you will survive, that we will see one another again," she whispered.

"I promise, you need to survive too Mi because a world without you in it is no world at all," he told her, raising his hand to tuck a loose curl behind her ear.

"When do you need to leave," she asked quietly.

"Soon, stay in Gryffindor Tower tonight, don't be a fool," he whispered, his fingers creasing her cheek.

"When have you ever know me to stand on the side-lines," she whispered, rising onto her tiptoes.

"Never," he breathed against her lips, as he leaned down, connecting his mouth with hers in what might very well be their last kiss. Clinging desperately in the darkness they conveyed all their feelings; love, anxiety, worry, despair, and hope as their tongues danced together one final time.

"I have to go," he whispered reluctantly pulling away from her, Hermione nodded, her lower lip quivering. Draco leaned forward and kissed her forehead, taking her all in for a final time before finally turning away to head back into the castle, Hermione's cries echoing behind him in the darkness.

Never one to stand on the side-lines, Draco had seen his lover fighting against the Death Eaters he had let into the school, her curls, wild, her eyes alert as she fought her enemy. There eyes had met a final time across a smoky corridor as Snape dragged him along behind him in their bid to escape the school in the wake of Dumbledore's murder. Hermione had mouthed I love you to him and that was the last time he'd seen her for months. Hermione hadn't returned to Hogwarts, her and her friends were the most hunted people in Brittan and were presumably on the run together. Draco wasn't a religious man, but he prayed every day to every deity, Merlin and Slytherin that she wouldn't be captured, that her name wouldn't be on the illegal radio station the Order had set up. Months went by with barley any word of her, they'd almost been caught a few times; presumably they'd broken into the Ministry, another report said they'd visited Lovegood's father, and there was an incident in Godric's Hallow. Each time the Golden Trio had escaped, and Draco had felt relief; this relief ended during the Easter Holiday's.

Draco had witnessed many horrifying things since leaving Hogwarts with Snape. Voldemort had taken up residence in his childhood home. Draco had been forced to watch as people were tortured, raped, killed, fed alive to his master's monstrous snake. Somehow Draco had managed to hold onto his humanity, to keep his soul intact. He was guilty of using the Crucio, most students at Hogwarts were as they were forced by the Carrows to inflict pain on one another for punishment. Draco had managed to avoid so far killing people and committing other heinous acts. The other Death Eaters thought he was week and routinely tortured him to instil some strength, but Draco refused to become a rapist, a murderer, instead he focused on the one ray of light in his life, his Hermione.

This light diminished the day she was brought into his home, dragged in by snatchers and the werewolf Greyback. Draco's heart had clenched in horror, his occlumency mask had faltered as the woman he loved more than anything in the world was thrown at his deranged Aunt's feet. Draco hadn't known what to do, there was no way he could overpower the dark wizards present, instead he had lied when asked if it was Potter and his friends, said he wasn't sure. His mother had looked at him with disbelief, she knew it was Potter from the few times she had seen him in Diagon Alley, but thankfully his mother didn't say anything. Draco had thought they were in the clear, once safely in the dungeons he'd be able to help them, orchestrate an escape but Bellatrix had gone mental.

The sword of Gryffindor had apparently been within his aunt's vault, but the trio now had it. Draco watched on in horror as his beautiful love was tortured, her eyes clinging to his as she screamed withering on the marble floor of his drawing room. Draco couldn't take it, his hand reached for his wand but instead a hand grabbed his preventing this action. Draco's mother shook her head slightly at him, clenching his hand tightly in hers. Luckily for Draco, Potter and Weasley had barged into the room, his old elf Dobby in tow, Bella had screamed to get them, Draco had raised his wand to give the pretence that he was doing as ordered. Thankfully Potter had disarmed him, and they had escaped. The round of Curcio's Voldemort placed on him, and the lashings to his back were worth it, he'd endure any pain, happy in the knowledge that at least Hermione would be safe.

The next he heard word of Hermione's whereabouts was two months after that faithful day in Malfoy Manor supposedly the trio had broken into Gringotts and escaped on the back of a dragon; Draco couldn't help but smile at the thought of his Girlfriend, terrified of heights yet sat a top of a flying creature she had liberated from a supposedly impenetrable bank. He felt so proud, when an emergency school meeting had been called in the Great Hall, he'd had trouble masking his gleeful feelings.

Potter had been spotted in Hogsmeade and then there he was, his childhood nemesis stepping out of the ranks of Gryffindor students, the Order was here, the final battle was upon them. Severus had fled after a battle with McGonagall, the Carrows were contained and the Slytherins had been ordered to the dungeons. Of course, Draco chose to ignore this order, he planned to fight alongside his girlfriend, fight for a world without prejudice, a world where he could love her openly. He followed her up through the levels of the school to the Room of Requirement, a room he almost died in thanks to stupid Crabbe igniting the room with Fiendfyre that he couldn't control. Hermione and her friends had saved him however then he had lost her in the battle. Unable to see her, he'd raised his wand and started fighting alongside the light side, firing curses at the Death Eaters to the shock off all those present.

When Voldemort's voice echoed through the school, telling them they had one hour, to heel their injured, to honour their dead Draco headed with the rest of the survivors to the Great Hall. Many looked at him in suspicion as he stood among the wreckage, his eye's fixed on the large Oak doors that had been propped open. Draco could hear them whispering about how he'd been fighting along side them, Fred Weasley telling his family loudly that Draco had saved his life. None of this mattered to Draco though, the only thing he cared about was his love, the girl he had befriended on the Hogwarts Express, the girl he lost his virginity too, the girl he intends to marry.

"Hermione," he breathed, his eyes fixed on the woman who had just entered the hall, she was thinner than she was the previous year, she was filthy, covered in mud, dust, and blood. To Draco she had never looked more beautiful; a battle worn warrior, strong, courageous, magnificent. Draco's feed moved on their own accord, Hermione likewise was running, a relieved smile on her face as she navigated her way across the hall. The pair met in the middle, neither caring about the hundreds of people surrounding them as they clung to one another, desperately kissing for the first time in so many months. Draco could taste the salt of her tears, the blood of her bleeding lip but he didn't care, she was here, alive, safe in his arms. Distantly he heard people gasping with shock, gossiping about their forbidden romance but as far as he was concerned the only thing that mattered was Hermione.

The rest of the battle flew by in a blur, Harry Potter was dead, Voldemort was calling for Draco to join him, but Draco had clung to Hermione's hand refusing to step across the expanse of chard earth that stood between the two sides of the war. His mother had looked on knowingly, a small smile on her face as she stared at his and Hermione's conjoined hands. Then Potter was alive and giving a long speech about how Draco had been the Master of the Elder Wand before Potter had disarmed him in Malfoy Manor, Voldemort seemed to become enraged, all his Horcruxes had been destroyed, Potter had said. Then both wizards had fired their own spells; the Avada and a simple Expelliarmus, then Voldemort was dead, his body lying still forevermore.

"It's over," Hermione breathed, squeezing his hand tightly as the remaining Death Eaters began to flee.

"It's over," Draco nodded, pulling her into his arms, against his chest.

"I've missed you," she whispered, her lips against his clavicle.

"Me too," he told her quietly. Whatever the future held they'd face it together, Draco never wanted to be away from Hermione's side again.