Two groups of people stood lined up facing one another, the twilight making their faces unrecognizable and the shadows making their bodies just silouettes against the rapidly fading background. It was fairly obvious who the two sides were- one side was covered completely in black- black robes and masks, and an evil aura hung around them. Their faces were set into grim lines of determination behind thier masks, whether it was because of a true dedication to the cause or simply a wish for it all to be over, one could not be sure; but the other side was obviously the Light side. Men and women, boys and girls, without masks and dressed in simple attire stood on the other side; an army would have laughed at them, but they were stronger than anyone knew.

At the forefront of the Dark side stood Lord Voldemort, the leader of the Dark and the most evil person known to man. On the Light side, however, there was no front and no back. Everyone stood in one line, equal to one another, regardless of their age or their power. Everyone ws given a chance.

Voldemort only felt contempt for those standing up so defiantly to his power. However, in line, one person, one face, called out to him, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

Hermione Granger. A mudblood- her blood was dirty, not even worthy to be considered, he told himself- but still, he thought she ws beautiful. A Light witch, and one of the most powerful ones of that time, Voldemort had to admit- and that fact too appealed to him. She had power, even if she used it for another cause. She could control the magic that many could only dream of, and Voldemort could see the similarities between himself and her. They both were amazingly strong, and- bringing out a part that he didn't like to consider- neither were Purebloods.

But she had gone against him so many times, standing next to Harry Potter. And there she stood, her hair waving in the wind, just a shadow as she stood across from him- and Voldemort knew, deep in his cold, cold heart that whatever he did, her opinion of him would ever change. He wasn't sure if he loved her- he wasn't even sure he could feel love. But she hated him with a passion that would never die- and for the time being, Voldemort was content with the fact that she was beautiful, and powerful, and she was just like him- except she had leaned towards the other side. She was good, and that made the difference.

He would never turn his back on his ways, even for her- that would never happen, for the power called to him to much, and he had never doubted that insanity had already come to call. But he knew beauty when he saw it, and he knew brains and he knew power- and she possessed it with every ounce of her being, with her courage and bravery that came from Gryffindor and then also the stealth and the secrets that he knew she had from Slytherin. She was like him, after all.

Despite the fact that she was good, despite the fact that she would never change her opinion of him- Voldemort loved her anyway. She was beautiful.

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A bit OOC. But oh well. This was written for wotcher-tonks' never-before-seen pairing challenge on HPFC. Please review. This is my collection fic, where I will put all my challenges and my one-shots that have nowhere to go.