Vinegar and water. Cats and dogs. Chocolate and medicine. Happy and sad. Fire and ice.

The Malfoys and the Weasleys.

Things that really don't go well together and that shouldn't be put together at all in the first place. Things that cancel each other out. Complete opposites that cancel each other out. But somehow, these things can often get brought together, typically against their will. And the results are almost always catastrophic.

With the Malfoys and the Weasleys, no one knows what started it. No one knows when or why these families began to fight. Bright blonde, contrasted against flaming red. A rich pureblood kin and a poor muggle-loving clan. There are plenty of haughty rich families and poor humble ones, but why do these two hate each other more than most?

People don't tend to care or even think about the origin of this legendary hatred, just as long as they keep bickering. It's the way things are. It's better they fight without reason then make up without one, right? One will triumph over the other sooner or later anyway. Why not just let it continue until they burn themselves out?

Or, until a twist of fate decides otherwise.

This is the story of love, true or fabricated, and how it will stand even the hardest challenge. It will topple the wall that have kept two families apart from so long and will disintegrate a little bit of the hate and evil that makes the world so cold.

At least, let's hope it will.

The long, twig like fingers tapped impatiently on a solid but worn wooden table. Attached to the fingers was a hand, as pale as a rotting corpse. Attached to that hand, was the evil Lord Voldermort. His face as nose-less, bloodless, and smile-free as always. He did, however, look a bit more agitated than usual.

Things weren't going the way he wanted them to. Tasks he assigned weren't being done. He needed better recruits. He had to kill three minions in the past week, far more than he'd have liked to. Though he enjoyed the looks of sheer horror upon their faces when he muttered the curse, he was losing Death Eaters. He needed new blood, excuse the pun.

Dumbledore was dead, that was one good point. Thanks to his now most loyal follower, he was a gigantic step closer to the boy, who now lay so open, but not unsuspecting, to him at school. But he couldn't go in and grab him. That wasn't his style and they would be expecting that. After their recent little party at Hogwarts in June, he couldn't just barge in because protection was bound to be tighter than usual.

His fingers continued to tap, his face set in the ugliest of scowls. He looked around him, taking in his surroundings. Once he killed the boy, he had to get a better headquarters. Perhaps the headmasters office at Hogwarts? A grin curled his nearly non-existent lips. Yes, that would do very fine. As opposed to this disgusting place he was in. Though it held so much of his ancient family history, the place just wasn't how he imagined at all. Decaying furniture, a carpet of dust upon the floor and the scent of rotting turnips… Not pleasant in the least. The only thing he liked about it was the snake that was still nailed to the door.

Back to Potter… How was he going to get to him with out risk? He needed to get someone physically inside the school, but he had no one. There were people like Crabbe and Goyle's sons, but word was they were even more dimwitted then their fathers. If possible. Montague finally graduated, Parkinson wouldn't have the nerve… Of course, there were others, but each candidate seemed less likely to achieve the task then the next.

There was suddenly a knock at the door.

Voldermort didn't look up or even move, though mentally shook out of his thoughts. He raised a skeletal hand and waved it. The door swung open.

"M'Lord," Lucius Malfoy murmured, stepping inside. He bent down on one knee at Voldermort's side and pulled down his hood, his long blonde hair falling over his shoulders. He took Voldermort's hand and kissed the top of it. "I came to see how things were developing. On the Potter front?"

Voldermort slowly turned his head, his eyes widening. They then narrowed and he smiled again. "Perfect. Now that you're here."

Lucius frowned curiously. "What do you mean, my liege?"

"Silence and listen," Voldermort instructed sharply, the smile momentarily gone. He got up and looked down at his servant, beginning to state a few facts. "Dumbledore is dead. Severus has fled the school. The offspring of Death Eaters I have in the school are useless to me until they can be better trained. Except one."

Lucius nodded patiently and continued to wait, his grey eyes sparkling with anticipation. He did not know where his lord was going with this, but it sounded good.

"Your son Draco wished to be involved in our cause," Voldermort said softly. "Yet, he failed the task I set for him the last time. Though Dumbledore ended up dead, anyway, Draco still, shall I say, 'chickened out'. I'm sure you were rightly ashamed of his failure?"

Lucius bowed his head in shame and nodded, but still watched his master.

"I shall give him another chance."

At this, Lucius nearly jumped up in excitement, but remained kneeling, knowing the consequence if he were to rise.

"He must lure the boy to me. But first, he must learn what emotions do to those who are weak."

"How so, my Lord?" Lucius was unable to contain himself. It had always been his, and Draco's, ambition to make his son a Death Eater. To prove he was strong enough to serve the Dark Lord and cleanse the world of the scum muggles they despised.

Voldermort began to pace. "Have a seat, Lucius," Voldermort said, his voice an air of kindness and his hand gesturing to the chair. Not believing his luck, Malfoy Sr. stood and took Voldermort's vacated seat.

"I understand you have a long-lasted scrap with the Weasley family?" Voldermort said at last, looking sideways at the other man, who nodded. "And there are two at Hogwarts, close to Potter… I am also to understand that your son is in opposition with the whole group of them?" Again, Lucius nodded. "Good, good, very good," Voldermort whispered mysteriously.