"The truth runs wild

Like the rain to the sea

Trying to set straight the lines that I trace

To find some relief

This Voice inside

Has been eating at me

Trying to embrace the picture I paint

And colour me free"

-Troye Sivan "Heaven"

Fifteen

They had promised that if all hope was lost, if the situation had become so helpless and desolate they would start counting.

One

Two

She had started counting first; looking across at the sea of black masked death, she knew this was it. There was no more hope. The air was acrid, dripping, engulfing her in death and she knew it was time.

Three

Four

Her eyes were stinging and burning, her blood too viscous in her veins. Her shredded hope was seeping out through her pores, her skin slick with ancient dust from the castle's ruins and what felt like her soul melting along with the perspiration. All that was left was for her to meet Draco's eyes so they could have their final moment before all was lost. The Dark Lord was hissing out his monologue. The tortured ribbons of skin, flesh and blood in front of him was all that was left of Harry Potter.

Five

Six

What was left of the resistance was standing by her, shoulder to shoulder, a tangible wall of solidified grief and loss. They were all that was left. There was no hope. No salvation. There was nothing left. This was it. This was it.

Seven

Eight

She caught sight of a flash of blonde hair. Finally. His grey eyes immediately recognised her and in that moment she felt a slow burning sense of peace wash over her bruised and broken spirit. She knew what he wanted to say. She wanted to say it too. They had had so little time together, they knew from the start it was finite. It was a few stolen, precious moments. Limbs entangled and bodies flush against one another. Hours spent in ecstasy forgetting the world and the war. Those precious moments had been all they'd had to hold onto as the world sunk and crumbled and burned around them. The senseless war that had practically wiped out wizarding Britain.

They had made the promise months ago knowing the time was nearing for the final crescendo, the last stand. She had been gently caressing his alabaster cheek, her fingers reaching towards his silky soft platinum fringe hanging loose over his storm cloud eyes. "Draco, when the time comes, when we know it's the end, I want the last moment of my life to be with you. Just you." She had silent tears running down her cheeks and had looked at him imploringly, hoping he would agree. He had looked at her with grim determination for a flicker of a moment before softening his gaze and reaching out to cup her too thin face. "We'll count to fifteen. And then we'll end. Together." His voice never wavered, never faltered, he was looking at her so intently and with so much feeling she already felt her heart breaking.

Nine

Ten

She gasped as she saw him start the count with her. Her heart was a violent tattoo against her ribs knowing it was imminent now. She would hold him one last time. They would have each other as their breathing ceased and their bodies became empty vessels of nothing. He didn't blink; he didn't twitch. He was stoic till the end. The omnipresent Malfoy mask was firmly in place as he slowly mouthed the numbers in time with her.

Eleven

Twelve

The brutal slaughtering of the last of the light had started. Along the line no one moved, no one screamed as the Death Eaters began the executions. Hermione didn't falter, he mind remained focused and her gaze was infinitely locked to the blonde who had slowly started moving among the sea of black to be in the foreground of the lines of the dark. They were all oblivious to the two star crossed lovers locked in their own world for the last moments of their too short lives.

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Hermione and Draco simultaneously broke ranks and sprinted towards one another. Their dirt smeared, blood covered boots pounding as they reached each other and locked together in their last embrace. Her brown eyes met his grey for the last time before closing as their mouths sought refuge in a final searing kiss that spoke of love and longing and complete finality. It was a perfect fleeting moment amongst the diseased apocalyptic world surrounding them. Their very souls entwined and sang with harmony knowing that this was pure and real and all encompassing. Their magic hummed through their veins and filled them with a contentment and peace so strong it could be felt in waves surrounding them like a caress.

It was a brief second. A startling flash of green. A sick cacophony of lightning and death. Their bodies, still embracing, fell to the cracked and broken stone and they were no more.