Disclaimer: Characters, setting etc belong to JK Rowling.

The Beginning.

The two stood, dark silhouettes happily entwined within one another arms - they were an oasis in the chaos around them.

The world was on fire, or so it seemed. Flames, hot and angry licked at the trees, racing across the floor to collide in a shower of sparks, threatening to swallow the world – even the sky was not safe as the flames climbed up to meet the stars, smoke spiralling far above their heads. It was to be their funeral pyre and they knew it. There would be no escape from this mess, no escape from what was to come; the most they could wish for was to go swiftly, to die long before the flames could find them amongst the debris. Already the stench of burning flesh filled the air, filling their noses with the smell of what was to come, as the fire fed on the bodies of the fallen – both sides had suffered heavily although perhaps it had been the Dark to lose the most – the fire did not care who it consumed, all was fair in love and war after all. The girl mused that perhaps this would be the best way to go, not to die out of hatred, not to die because of who she was, or had been, but to die because that is what nature dictated should happen. Smiling gently she looked up into the eyes of her companion. Unlike her, he had fought at first, unable to see how futile this would be, but by now he too had realised that the only thing for them to do would be to let themselves be taken, to rejoice in what had been.

The girl's hair crackled around her, floating in the gentle breeze, glowing red and orange in the light of the flames looking to the casual observer as though she had brought the fire, as if she was blessing the boy who she had chosen to take with her, that she could just turn and flit through the flames as though she were one. Her eyes flashed in the gloom, the only truly bright spark in the scene, a thousand words captured in a glance. She was far smaller than her companion and as she stepped back, hands reaching up to cradle his face, it was plain for all to see that she was tiny and lithe as well. All in all, this girl looked like she was the harbinger of doom, risen from the depths of hell, bringing with her a vengeful fire to scour the earth and to take the bodies of the fallen back with her, she was dangerous and fiery, her very soul a symphony of flames.

In stark contrast, her companion, the tall boy whose face she cradled so delicately, was barely visible within the smoke - it seemed to wrap itself around him as though hiding him from the world, unwilling to let him go in case he escaped. He was all pale greys and glimmering silver and white against the flames. His hair, although soot stained and dulled by the fight, was the palest silver, only surpassed by the white marble of his face, his eyes were flinty chips, although if you looked close enough you could see the blue, such a clear sky blue, reflected in them as he looked down on the girl, unreadable and cool. He was tall, taller than most, his body graceful and elegant. As the girl cradled his face, his hands hung by his sides, limp, as though he could not touch this fiery vision that was so intent on capturing him. He was the angel in the scene, caught in the fiery pits of hell, with no escape. It would not be hard to imagine that he had wings, pure as new snow, with which to carry himself up into the blue skies and away from this terrible fate.

The two figures were fire and ice, heaven and hell. He was pure, she dirty. The irony, she had told him, was that as dirty as she was, she was the light, and as pure as he was, he was the dark. She had showed him that purity was not goodness, and that dirt did not equate to inferiority. This fire had raged for almost half an hour by then, and in that time they had seen what they should have seen so long ago. Neither had loved, and that love would have saved them. For him to truly see her and love her the way she was and for her to love him enough to forgive would have kept them from this dark place, kept them within the light of their home. But it was not to be. They did not have time to rue their decisions, for it was too late for that. This fate was inevitable. No one knew that they were here. No one could see the fire drawing closer, dancing around them, trapping them so neatly. The smoke, as it rose, dancing into the sky, was whisked away by the breeze, pulled away as though even it could not bear to be there any longer. In the time they had been trapped, their wands had disappeared. Their clothes torn and muddied. Hands and faces bloodied. Still she cradled his face, standing on her toes to bring her level with him. Time had frozen around them, and even as the flames taunted them, heating their very bones, neither could move. This would be how they went and they would do so with dignity. Her breath was light, brushing his cheek. Eyes flickered shut as he inhaled her, wishing that this would not be the last time he could be this close, wishing that he could reach out and touch the one thing that was still alive in this graveyard. Her eyes, inquisitive and unafraid, explored his face, and she moved her hands, running them over his eyelids, across the sharp cheekbones, round the strong jaw, and up and around the lips, subconsciously noting the way his breath hitched under her gentle touch. Once more she pulled back, curiosity satiated. His hands had curled into fists, the knuckles jutting sharply out, his breathing staggered. He so desperately wished to cling to the knowledge of her inferiority. He could feel it slipping as the beautifully unaware girl in front of him threatened to destroy him before the fire even licked at his feet. This girl was poison. Poison in an apple. She was so unaware of how deadly she was, so blissfully oblivious to the pain she brought with every simple touch, with every passing breath.

Hours passed. Still the figures stood like statues, the sky now darkened to a midnight hue. Stars winked at them, smiling cruelly down on the pair as the fire drew inexorably closer. The fire had long since abandoned reaching for the sky. No, now it wound its way across the floor, snaking ever closer with every branch, ever twig that succumbed to its will. The fire was closer, yet the two knew they had time. Had the time to love for one last time. Had the time to beg for forgiveness for their sins. Moonlight became a spotlight, showing them the flaws, highlighting the beauty of the other. What had once been a gentle embrace was now almost as hot as the fire. The boy made of ice would surely melt under the girl's fierce touch. Hands clasped, breathing erratic, their eyes locked, fire burning into ice, ice freezing fire. They had no one else now, and that thought comforted them. They would not have touched, not have said the words that floated between them, if they were not to spend eternity together. It no longer mattered who they were. To him, she was his last salvation, last chance to get it right. To her, he was a taste of a fruit once forbidden to her. Tonight, they would share everything. Just for these moments, would they love. It was under that denial, the joint belief that this was not real, did their mouths find each other, fervent and unrelenting. They were hungry; hungry for someone else, and true to nature, the fire melted the ice. They had done it there on the dusty floor, whilst the fire jeered at them, scrutinising them. Under the fire, to him, she had been a saving grace, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, her hair a halo – she would be his angel. He could not take his eyes from the way she moved, back arched, mouth parted in a delicate "oh". His mouth devoured her; he needed to taste her, to touch her once more, to feel her need once again. Gasping and trembling he pulled her in, his grip tightening around her diminutive frame. She glowed, so perfect and flawed all at once. The girl had needed this, needed to feel the fire one last time, to know that the hate was there, that the passion she held in her hate for him, would not be quenched by such a thing as death. To her, he was the snake in her Eden, and just like Eve, she had succumbed – not for love, but for desire. He had melted under her touch, and she wondered if this could have ever been anything more, if she could have ever hated him any less. If one day her heart would not have ached with such fury for the boy. It was then that he had whispered, exhausting rising as they fell apart that he loved her, eyes boring into her, full of the fire that once filled hers. Regret and hurt resounded within her. The clearing echoed with her silence. Both knew that she could not love him, and that he would never have her.

The fire circled them where they stood; they had barely a meter around them now. The fire teased them. It was utterly dark. The moon and stars had been swallowed by the clouds as though in mourning, and the night had stilled. Smoke billowed, swallowing them, filling their lungs. The girl had given in long ago, seemingly so at peace with what she had been dealt, whilst he continued to fight. She had her arms wrapped around him, holding him in place, eyes never leaving his. Once again, she was the demon holding the victim she intended to take, not a whisper of pain in those eyes even as the fire scorched her, occasionally flicking out as though to taste her skin. The boy was panicked, his eyes wide, breathing harsh, not ready to accept the fate this girl would bring. Her eyes were so flat. Soon he fell under her gaze. Fell to the way she held him as though she would take him gently, as though she would make it easy. Fell to the way she did not seem to notice the fire that tickled her. Fell to the way she smiled up at him brilliantly as the fire licked at their feet. Smoke filled his lungs, and he coughed hacking coughs that stopped his heart, and forced all the air from his lungs. Still she remained impassive. His head span, dizziness calling to him and he slumped into her, knowing she would catch him. She looked down at him, eyes warm and knowing. His legs slipped and he became aware of something eating at him, mesmerised by the flames that licked up his body. Her eyes were kind, her smile seeming to ease him into painlessness, into a darkness so deep he could not see the way out. As his eyes flickered, the last image he registered was of the fact that her eyes were no longer calm, her smile broken, as tears streamed down her cheeks, shining in the sudden light from the moon, and that she had hidden the pain, hidden what had hurt her so badly, so that he could die in peace. His heart broke as he fell; fell so far, before he could feel nothing, became unaware of the world that carried on spinning below him.

The girl sat, the fire like a wall surrounding her. She had beaten the fire off of him, aware that she should have let him go, let him slip into death painlessly, not prolonged it. His prone form lay across her lap, his face against her shoulder, so peaceful and pale in the dark. Even the fire seemed to bow from her, as she looked up, fury and hate burning like torches in her eyes, her mouth pulled into a snarl. Sorrow and pain brewed in her stomach and resolutely she knew what she would do, knew that she could not save them both. They would not go down without a bang, she had not come here for this, had not decided to risk herself so wholly to die for nothing. She would stand, face the element she felt such a kinship with, and see if it would dare to swallow her whole, to burn her where she stood. Her wand lost long ago, this girl was aware that it would take everything she had to do this, to preserve what she could of their bodies at least. Doing this would drain her, kill her, she had known it would but she forged on. Gently she laid the boy she hated so much on the floor by her feet, willing the fire to keep its distance for just a moment more. Slowly she stood, having brushed a lingering kiss across his head, and hoping that he would survive this to tell the world that they had not gone without a fight. Her silhouette was black against the reds and oranges of the flame, and she stood, feet slightly spread, hands pushed out as though pushing the fire away. Energy built around her, the entire forest quieting as her breathing grew louder, the sky dimmed around her and she wavered, a smile adorning her face. This demon, so unaware of what she was, would save them.

The girl glowed gently, her face bathed in a golden glow, her eyes closed as she revelled in it. She shone brighter than any star ever could, and the world was forced to bow to what she was. Her heart beat in her chest, her world pulsing along with it. Everything began to spin, and she could no longer see. The world shone so brightly, and she pushed, forcing everything outwards, elation and wonder swirling around her like cats prowling for their prey. The angel boy stirred at her feet, gasping and choking at what he saw. The fire around them crackled and flared, twisting as though dancing to the tune she had set, writhed as though entranced unable to escape as it seemed to swallow itself, the flames no longer brilliant reds and glinting yellows, but a blinding gold and silver. Even more beautiful was the girl who had done this – she was so full of colour, her eyes a solid gold as she stared unseeingly at what she had done. The air tasted of smoke and sweat, the ground scarred from the fire that had once been. Plumes of smoke hung in the sky, gazing down as though to see where the fire had gone. A loud breath broke the silence and she fell. The girl that saved the world fell, as softly and silently as an oak deep in a forest. The trees seemed to bow towards her, and the sky wept gently as she lay stiller than stone amongst the remaining grass. Her smile lit up the world even as she lay blind to everything.

The pale boy, so icy cold, melted once more next to her heat, and leaning down, kissed her perfectly still face one last time - she had drained herself, condemned herself to death. The girl so deadly had used every drop of fire in her to save the boy she hated so dearly. That was what it had seemed like. Then she spoke, spoke words to true and honest that it scared him in a voice that had never belonged to her. The girl so fragile on the floor was no longer just a girl, would never be. She had given her life, changed the fate the world had assigned them. This girl would forever be full of the fire she had swallowed, be the demon that she had seemed, entirely unaware that she carried only destruction within her soul. Whilst he, the boy who had loved her so entirely for those few moments would be the ice, the only one capable of freezing the destruction she harboured, the only one able to fix her. That would be their punishment; together they would be trapped eternally. If either were to survive, they would need the other.

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger would have to fall in love to save the world they had known for the last eighteen years.