Cast no Shadow

By attica

Disclaimer: Don't own characters, just plot. Fic based on Oasis' song Cast no Shadow. Quote at the end belongs to Oasis.

Summary: Stolen hearts, secret love, merciless time, broken spirits, and a tragic romance… Forbidden love was never meant for the faint of heart.

One-Shot.

A Draco/Hermione Fic.

To those who have lost someone they loved dearly. This is for you.

Their love for each other would've puzzled many… if anyone else had known.

She was good-hearted, pure, kind, clever and the noblest of any of the ladies anyone could ever meet.

He was cold, arrogant, cynical, bitter and harsh, with steely silver eyes that could freeze the sun even when it was blazing at its hottest and brightest.

They'd come from different worlds…

She'd come from a warm, loving family that encouraged and cheered her on even when she had just fallen to the very bottom of the well.

He'd come from a cold family, one that he didn't even consider a family. Love was nothing but a stale, empty and unwanted word in the manor—a word that was unknown and so unfamiliar. They were wealthy and it showed in their sophisticated balls, relentlessly grabbing at opportunities to be honored, praised and admired. His parents were cold, soul-less beings who never once touched him because they wanted to, or because they felt any emotion near love. And thus, they brought up an even colder son, a bitter, angry son who held too much hatred deep inside him.

He'd seen the other families. He had known what he was missing, what was wrong. He'd known that all the wealth could not substitute unconditional love. He never spoke of it, for it was an unspeakable matter, because it was buried too deep inside, and he was afraid that if he could ever release it, it would all just spill out… and he would be left alone, weak, and vulnerable. His pride was something he liked, something he needed. It blinded others from seeing his true face, his true heart, and his true pain.

He was Draco Malfoy, the infamous bastard extraordinaire, and he knew no kindness, no benevolence, no compassion and sympathy. He lived just to live, and to push others down when they were already slipping off the ladder.

And she was Hermione Granger, the legendary bookworm who knew all the answers to anything. She was neither hated nor liked. She believed in intelligence, kindness, goodwill and compassion, and most of all, love. She lived to do good things in the world; she lived to make it a better place.

Neither could tell the true account of their love, or the chance for it that fate had shoved into their path.

He used to say it had been in the library, when they had both caught each other sneaking into the Restricted Section for some so-called research for an assignment. He also used to say it was the time she had fainted from exhaustion and lack of sleep in Potions class in the middle of their presentation, when Snape had mercilessly partnered them together.

She said it was the time he had caught her when she had fallen from her broom during a dare she had received from Ron that she couldn't possibly ride one. She'd flown high into the sky, the cool wind whipping against her face, so that simply looking down made her dizzy and she could no longer distinguish their faces… just small, dark blurs.

She had always been afraid of heights. But her stubbornness and insane determination to prove her best friend wrong had driven her to push her obstinate fear aside. She should've known something bad was to happen because of it.

A small crowd had gathered around them during their shouting match in the hallway during the passing period from Potions to Herbology, and so they had all heard Ron's challenge, and also, her acceptance of it.

And, as luck would have it, the lot of nosy, curious spectators had brought along some friends, and the anticipating mob stood beneath her, looking up expectantly.

She knew she shouldn't have looked down when she was so high up. She had just known it.

The painful and uneasy knots in her stomach warped, twisted and pulled harshly, as her grip on the broom had shifted and tightened nervously. She felt her heart furiously leap up into her throat, and she thought for certain that she was going to die.

"You can come down now, Hermione!" Ron had shouted up to her, not even attempting to hide the bitterness in his voice. Even with her elevated position she could hear it echoing through the air. His shout had scared her, and so she'd wobbled a bit on the broom, gripping the smooth handle with clammy, sweaty hands. She felt her fear backlash at her, making her instantly freeze up.

"All-all right, then!" she'd called down, her voice shaky.

She was still for a moment. A long moment that she was certain could have eased into eternity if she'd allowed it to. Her peers' attention bellow her had become intensely sharp, and she knew it was because they'd smelt her fright a mile away. Closing her eyes tight and feeling the painful pounding in her chest, she tried to fly down graciously… but she had never been a fan of flying on brooms, especially when her whole world had seemed to be spinning at such a dangerously fast rate.

Thus, it seemed to only make sense that on her way down, she lost control, and the next thing she knew, she was falling.

She heard the wind roar in her ears, bellowing so monstrously and loud, like the vicious growl of the sea. Her body was too heavy and losing height so fast that the air could not catch her or slow her down – simply just zipped past her, kissing her skin harshly and frantically for the last time. At that moment, even her own scream sounded unfamiliar in her ears.

She'd expected to feel the ground beneath her, to hear the crunch of shattering bones on the grassy ground. And then she expected the cold, cruel pain, as much as the beckoning darkness to fill her.

But it never came.

What did come, however, was an impact below her and within her, a loud grunt, stumbling, and warmth underneath her fingertips.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself looking at a shocked and only mildly bothered Draco Malfoy, whose neck she had her arms around. The same Draco Malfoy who was also holding her tightly. She looked around and heard loud chattering and voices, a cacophony of loud noise, as people gathered around them.

They were on the ground, she realized, noticing the sea of emerald grass beneath them. He'd caught her, and then he had stumbled from the blow of her suddenly dropping into his arms, and they had fallen to the ground.

But as she looked up, giving his pale, slightly concerned face one last glimpse, she'd fainted.

She remembered that memory so vividly, and she still couldn't help but smile when she thought of it.

But, at times, she was convinced it the time he had saved Crookshanks. Crookshanks had always been too gritty for his own good. He'd escaped from the Gryffindor common room after Ron had stupidly insisted to keep the portrait door open because he was waiting for Harry.

Poor Crookshanks had been fighting with Mrs. Norris, and Filch, having found out by seeing the two in full on cat-clawing action, had been going to hurt him for doing that to Mrs. Norris, in some way.

Draco, on his way to his room, had caught him scurrying around the hall with a limp leg, and meowing quite shrilly, so he begrudgingly caught Crookshanks, took him to the hospital wing to get healed, and returned him to her. (Draco had always liked cats.)

Though, no matter how many times they had tried to come up with the one specific moment, they could never agree on any one of them alone.

But Hermione had made up her mind a long time ago. She had always been in love with him, on some level. She couldn't remember a time she wasn't.

Hermione had always had friends by her side, Harry and Ron, and they had always made her days happier than she was convinced they should have been. But once they had started their relationships, Hermione felt the ghastly creeping wave of loneliness. She often thought about whether she was to ever find the one for her, just as Harry and Ron had seemed to already, and if it was to be soon. She didn't let it show, but she was overcome with envy.

She had never told anyone, for it was her secret burden and it was not something really meant to be shared, but she had always been lonely, in one way or another. Ron and Harry had had their share of flings, and for her, besides her momentary and short relationship with Viktor, she had nothing else.

She could not remember falling in love with him. Draco Malfoy had always been someone to despise, but, it seemed, all in one mere moment, he became the one she constantly thought about.

There had been no clue he had fallen for her, now that she thought about it. Besides the look in his eyes when they had encountered each other in the library late that night, she would have never guessed that he, Draco Malfoy, could harbor any feelings besides hatred for a dirty-blooded being like her.

However, that kiss had been a dead give away.

She remembered it.

She remembered how his lips had somehow collided with hers, and how she had suddenly become lost in the suspenseful heat and sweetness in his mouth. She still remembered how he had snaked his arms around her waist, holding her tightly and pulling her as close to him as he could, and she could still remember how she had kissed him back… as if he had held the last breath she could ever need to breathe.

She'd been lost in his fervent kisses, his soft caresses and loving touches.

She'd been so lost, so abandoned, and so mislaid that after that night, though both had tried to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, she found herself confused and so empty.

She thought about him so constantly that she couldn't concentrate. Her work began to become sloppy and unfurnished, and her grades began to slip.

Her knees became weak whenever she laid her eyes on him, and her heart thundered and roared loudly, thrashing about, as if it was calling for him to kiss her again.

She yearned for him, for his kisses, for his touches that made every single nerve in her body burst with ecstasy. She needed to feel him again, to taste him, to keep her going, to keep her living and to keep her convinced she was still living.

She had fallen so hard, so fast, that she couldn't find the strength to get back up.

So, against her logic, she came back to the library again one late night.

She waited a while amongst the quiet books, sitting silently, sometimes peering around the shelves. She remembered how her palms had been sweating and her heart had been thundering.

But while she was walking away in reprimanding shame, she looked up.

And he was there.

They'd uttered no words, merely speaking with their eyes all they needed to say. He'd walked towards her slowly, and he'd first kissed her so softly, his arms wrapped around her. And as she'd responded, his kisses became hungry, passionate and feverish, as if an answer to their merciless thirst.

And they held each other, no words necessary, caressing, kissing, and touching each other, giving each other love in exchange for each other's.

They'd convinced themselves that after that one night, they'd be satisfied. They went to their classes in the morning, spared no thought or glance in each other's way… but when night came, they found themselves facing the same hollowness in the pit of their chests.

Both had never felt that warmth before… it seemed to be sacred, holy, something they had to feed off to live.

And so, they both found themselves going back to each other each night, giving their love away, giving their heart, piece by piece, in return for the other.

By the time they'd tried to pry themselves away from the other, to walk away and never come back, they'd already fallen in too deep. It was addictive; it was inescapability. They needed it, yearned for it, searched for it.

It was dangerous. It was death. It was pain, it was a dead end, it was doomed, and it was forbidden.

Their relationship was not meant to strive for life. It was not meant to last. Those few kisses had never meant to last into an eternity of love.

But it did.

They didn't know why, or how, but it did.

After Hogwarts, they continued to live their life in their own world, trying to forget the past and trying to forget what they missed and still longed for. They drew forced smiles on their faces and feigned sleep in their beds.

But they struggled.

They both knew they could not move on with another's heart. They needed their own hearts back, and they needn't have that shameful, heavy burden upon their shoulders any longer.

They needed one last night before they could finally move on.

They needed to say that last goodbye they never said.

But as they met, everything came back.

The sight of each other stabbed the wounds that had never had the chance to heal and close. The same passion and desire erupted, once again.

And, that night, they never said the goodbye they meant to.

They found themselves giving themselves to each other again, letting go of their past intentions of leaving and stitching up the wounds, and instead savored the feeling of feeling the warmth they had been so empty of since they'd last seen each other.

She gave him love.

She gave him the warmth he'd always wanted to feel, the warmth that managed to shatter the bitter cold of the manor and his past. She gave him what he thought he'd never feel, what he only dreamed of ever feeling.

And as for Hermione, he gave her the same in return. He filled in that aching loneliness; he filled in that hole inside her heart.

He gave her everything, just as she had given him.

They gave themselves to each other, because they knew they would never find anyone else who could make them feel as they did now.

And he fled.

He fled from his father's honor, he fled from the horrors of the Dark side, and he fled from his supposed destiny in the face of the Dark Lord.

He fled to be with her, to be by her side.

He fled to love her unconditionally; he fled to become free of the burdens and chains that had held him down for so long.

And they were happy. They were happy.

They vowed to love each other until sickness and death, until the world was to fall apart, but even then, their love would still be whole and hold strong. They vowed to love each other for an eternity that was so abundant even the angels could not foretell of such an age.

And it was true.

They loved each other wholly; they loved each other and didn't hold back.

And they lived joyously, blissfully. For once, their days had been filled with love without shame.

But fate, as luck would have it, caught up.

No one could run from one's past, from one's mistakes and choices.

Not even for love.

No son of an honored and well-respected Death Eater was to flee without a word, especially if it was just for the love of a Mudblood.

Draco received a letter from his father one morning, requesting his presence for a small discussion.

Draco's heart felt vastly heavy that morning, and he spent that night watching her, feeling pain rocket through his body as the tears fought to leak from his agony and aching heart.

There were consequences for his actions, he knew. He could hear his father saying it to him in a drawl almost identical to his, and he hated it.

He hated himself, and he hated his father more.

He knew that the night after the next, he would be no more.

And he wept.

He couldn't not go; he knew how his father's mind worked. She was to be killed if he didn't accept the invitation, and he couldn't take that. He couldn't risk it. He loved her too much not to accept. He knew she was to be so much more, he knew that she was yet to do so much more good in the world.

They could flee, again. But his father was persistent, and Draco knew that anywhere they went, no matter how many times they would always run, they were to be found.

It was the only choice.

He held her close that night, kissing her hair and face, watching her sleep so peacefully and beautifully.

But she stirred, and he froze. Her eyes fluttered open, and concerned filled those melting, chocolate orbs that not even poets could describe for they were so wholesome, so innocent, so pure and the delicacy of any goodness that could ever exist.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, seeing the trails of moisture down his cheeks. "Draco, love, what's wrong? You're… you're crying." Draco merely kissed her, holding her as close as he could.

He held the sobs inside, no matter how painful. He caressed her face, kissed her hands and held her against him. He inhaled the scent of her hair, trying to memorize it though he already knew it too well, grazed her skin, trying to memorize the softness that greeted him when he did.

She pulled back, her eyes worried and her face pale. She raised her hands and wiped away the tears, tenderly stroking his cheek.

"What is it?" she asked. "Please tell me."

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered to her, painfully, his throat achingly dry and his lungs feeling as if it were to explode from resisting the urge to let out the sobs. "I love you so much. I want you to know that. I want you to remember that. I love you."

Hermione's eyes began to tear up, though confusion and uncertainty was etched all over her face in the dim moonlight that spilled from their windowsill.

"What's happening? What are you saying?" she asked, her voice shaky. "What's happening? Tell me. Draco, tell me."

Draco kissed her, but pulled away. He took the letter from his desk as she sat up behind him. He handed it to her as she slowly whispered the spell for the lights. The dark room lit up with a brightness that stung his sore, weary eyes.

He watched her expression as she read it, her eyes gracefully moving from line to line. He felt his heart sag so heavily that he felt as if it were to rip through his chest and drop unto the floor any moment now.

He had never hurt like this before.

He knew death couldn't be as painful as this.

He watched her as devastation and horror filled her face, the color fading from her face. She looked up at him with fearful eyes as she dropped the paper from her hands. He watched them as they became glossy, filling up with tears, and he felt his heart slowly break.

"You can't go," she whispered, her voice trembling and cracking. "You can't go, Draco."

"I have to," he replied, steadily looking at her. "You know I have to."

"No," she said, a tear slipping from her eyes and rolling down her cheek. "No, Draco, no. You can't."

He walked towards her, and gathered her up in his arms, but she jerked away, prying his arms off of her.

"Hermione," he pleaded, trying to swallow that painful, jagged stone lodged inside his throat. "Please. You know I have to. I have to go."

"No," she said, stepping back, more tears dropping from her eyes. "No. No. No!" she suddenly shouted. "You can't go! You can't! He's going to kill you, Draco!" she screamed, her eyes so terrified and fearful. "He's going to kill you! Don't you see that?"

"I do!" he shouted, stepping forward. "I do! I know! But it's for the best!"

"No!" she said, slapping his hands away. "It's not! It's not! We can run! We can run away!"

"We can't! You know he'll find us! All it will do is make things worse!"

"You can't go! I'm not going to let you!" she shrieked. Draco wrapped his arms around her, but she struggled, hitting him away. "Stop!" she screamed. "Stop! I'm not going to let you go! You're going to get killed! You're going to get killed!"

But as he continued to hold her, even with her kicking and screaming, she began to weaken and soon she simply let him hold her. Her shouts faded into muffled sobs that she cried into his chest. Her tears soaked through the fabric of his shirt, but he just held her tightly, swallowing hard but never being able to swallow down the pain.

She held him firmly as he also let the tears slip. He kissed her hair and her face, feeling her small, dainty body trembling against him.

"No, Draco," she sobbed. "No… no… Don't go… Please, don't go…"

And he wept, hearing her pleads and knowing there was nothing he could do.

oooo

The next night, they did not waste a moment. They savored everything, just holding each other and whispering their vows, again and again.

They went through their memories, reliving each one, and though Hermione cried, Draco could not bring himself to, though they were still fighting harder and harder to slip out. He knew he had to be strong.

He had to be strong for her.

He kissed her as ardently and fervently as before, lying her down against the silk sheets of the bed, slowly slipping off her clothing, and then his, expressing their love one last time.

One last time.

He kissed her, tasted her, and marked her with his hands that grazed every surface and inch of her skin. He whispered her name with fire and fervor, her fingers digging into the flesh of his back.

The room was filled with heat and murmurs of love, eternal and passionate love.

He gave her everything he had, as she did in return.

Though exhaustion caught up with their bodies, he continued to feel, that warmth, that feeling… her love.

Her moans echoed in his ears, his name as she said them aloud chimed endlessly.

And for the afterglow, they merely held each other, saying of the extent of those vows. They told each other, again and again, as if they were to forget.

But they couldn't. They couldn't forget.

It was engraved in their hearts to last even after death.

In the morning, as Hermione still slept, Draco silently woke and dressed. He kissed her forehead, whispering the truth one last time, before retrieving a parchment and writing down his promise that he intended to keep… though he knew fate didn't.

He folded it up; leaving a single rose beside it, and placed it on his pillow. He looked at her sorrowfully, feeling those same cold, cruel and merciless hands constrict around his throat once more.

With a heavy heart and a deep hatred inside him for his father, he left.

oooo

Hermione woke up feeling blissfully happy. Then, inexorably, reality hit her and she felt the brutal impact instantly shatter her spirit. She looked beside her, and just as she had expected, he was gone.

He had never been one to say goodbye, and at times, especially now, she hated him for it. She absolutely hated him.

She thought of it as a cowardly thing to do, to just leave without a word.

But as those painful daggers plunged through her heart again, reminding her of what was to come, she sat up.

She wept as she dressed, her heart now broken into irreparable pieces that could not ever be mended with a promising potion, or some spell.

She was empty, she was broken.

Fate – cruel, harsh and cold fate – had stolen him away from her.

The only boy she ever managed to love, and the only boy she could ever.

But as she was crying from her loss and sorrow, she found his rose and letter. She wiped her eyes, before taking it with shaky hands.

She was afraid of what she was to read.

She opened it, slowly, and her sore eyes read, line by line.

Afterwards, she held the letter close to her heart, sobbing harder. His words held promise, devotion, and determination. His scent still wafted in the air of their room, and that pricked her heart to bleed even more than it already was.

She lay there for hours, crying and thinking of him, thinking of the past and the future… her future. Her painful, lonely future without him. Her loveless future, which would be no future at all.

She could not live without him. He was too much a part of her; he was too much a part of her heart.

But there was a tapping on her window, and as she looked up, she found a familiar owl standing outside the window. She slowly stood and walked towards it, his words ringing faintly in his ears.

'…I'm coming back for you. I promised you my heart, and I swore to you my soul for eternity. I'm not going to leave you without saying goodbye, and I didn't say goodbye for a reason. This isn't goodbye. I'm coming back. I promise to return.

I love you.

Draco.'

oooo

Draco was in shock. His father had been… disturbingly pleasant, asking him about Hermione and their life together. The Death Eaters had been nowhere to be found, and his mother had looked… rather fine.

He found himself walking towards the fireplace in a daze.

His father had not killed him.

Instead, he had bid him a good life with Hermione, and wished him nothing but good blessings.

Draco was confused, but as he halted in front of the fireplace and looked behind him, Lucius and his mother were smiling at him widely. His father's arm was around his mother, and they looked… happy.

Draco was suspicious.

"Father…" he faltered, looking at them as the fire blazed behind him.

"Draco?" he drawled. "What is it?"

"I… I thought you'd be angry with me. I thought… I thought you'd want to kill me."

"Oh, that's nonsense, Draco," Lucius said, with a grin that almost made Draco sick to his stomach. His cold, silver eyes glinted trouble ahead. "You're my son. I only want what brings you happiness."

oooo

There was shuffling inside the house, and Hermione bolted up from the bed, her heart thundering.

She was uncertain of whom it was, but no one else knew the location of their house, let alone how to get past through all of the protection spells that Draco had put up.

But as she sat straight, suddenly becoming aware of the dim darkness all around her, her heart leaped as she was filled with shining hope.

His letter.

His promise.

He'd promised, and he'd kept it.

He was back.

Hermione got up, cautiously looking at the bedroom door. She'd left it open, and all she could see was darkness beyond it.

"Draco?" she whispered, her voice hoarse. She held another letter in her hand, one that brought joyful news that she wanted to share with him. "Draco?"

There was a silence, a silence that seemed to freeze her body with anticipation and hope.

But there was a faint feeling of fear inside her that was so faint that she could not come to understand it.

Suddenly, she heard the creak of the door, and she heard footsteps. Someone in a dark cloak stood in front of her, but Hermione, knowing that Draco owned many cloaks that were identical to it, was only a slight bit suspicious.

She noticed there was suddenly a bitter cold inside the room, and she shivered slightly, looking at the figure in front of her.

He seemed to be about Draco's height, but she saw nothing else.

"Draco?" she said, smiling. Her brown eyes sparkled with happiness. "Draco? Is that you, love?" But as the dark figure did not respond, Hermione became frightened. She backed up in the bed, until her back was to the headboard.

"Draco?" she asked again, her voice shaky. "This isn't funny. Come on. Take off your hood."

But as the figure did, Hermione found herself terrified. He smirked at her cruelly, and drew his wand.

A great flash of light lit up the dark house, accompanied by a blood-curdling scream.

And then there was silence.

oooo

Draco flooed to their fireplace.

He stepped out, dusting himself off, coughing a bit, but he was puzzled at the darkness of the house. He knew that Hermione was not the sort of person who favored dark places… but he remembered the situation they had been in before and realized the reason for it.

His heart was light and thundering with joy as he smiled widely, his silver eyes twinkling with bliss as he stepped out of the fireplace. The fire slowly died behind him.

He decided he would surprise her.

He walked through the dim corridors of their house quietly, grinning happily and feeling as if a tremendous weight had just been lifted off of his heart and shoulders. His footsteps made only a faint click on the marble floors that would be easy to miss, but it bothered him that the house seemed to be so still.

He reached their bedroom, and he noticed that the door was open. He peered inside, before reaching out to push it open. It opened, with only a small creak, and he was able to walk inside.

There was excitement buzzing inside him, an impulse to just suddenly barge in and gather her in his arms, but there was something… there was something about their house, something about their room that disturbed him…

Something wasn't right.

He walked inside, and he looked towards their bed. She was there, and he smiled. She seemed to be sleeping.

He silently walked towards, trying to make as little noise as possible, and he sat down beside her. He smiled down on her, though in the darkness he could only see the shadows from her features.

"I'm back, love," he whispered lovingly, raising a hand and tucking a russet curl behind her ear. "Just like I promised."

He looked down and noticed a piece of parchment she was holding. Curiously, he slowly opened her palm and took it, smoothing it out and holding it up for him to read.

Mrs. Hermione Malfoy,

We've found the reason for your dizziness and faint spells…

Draco remembered that Hermione had been weak and tired over the past few months, and had even fainted a few times. He read on, concerned about her health.

… We've run a few tests from the samples you had given us from your last visit, and we are pleased to inform you that there will be a new addition to your family…

Draco's eyes widened, his heart stopping.

It is for certain now, that you, Mrs. Malfoy, are carrying a baby inside of your womb….

Draco felt the blood pounding in his ears, as his nerves started to burst with shock and excitement.

You are but two months pregnant. Congratulations.

Please owl us if you have any more questions or would like to schedule another appointment,

The Medi-Witches and Medi-Wizards of TreCallum's Wizarding Hospital.

Draco sucked in a sharp breath, as he looked to Hermione from the paper.

He couldn't believe it.

She was going to have a baby.

He was going to be a father.

Draco's smile widened, feeling electricity course through him. His silver eyes sparkled with thrill.

Draco slowly put the parchment down, his grin still put, as he couldn't express his delight in any other way. He scooted closer to her, and raised his hand. He cupped her face, stroking her cheek, but froze as something unexpected shot through him as his fingers met her face.

He didn't feel the warmth he usually did when he touched her.

She was cold.

Bitterness greeted his fingertips and palm, the iciness harshly soaring up his skin and coursing through his veins.

Draco gasped. His heart became constricted in a painful tangle of horror and terror. He could feel the world slow to a stop, watching him.

"Hermione?" he whispered. He raised both his hands and cupped her face, feeling the same cold emptiness.

He became frantic, fright and panic jabbing him and throwing him so violently out from his recent state of happiness and bliss.

The world turned a shade darker.

"Hermione?" he said, louder, desperation in his voice. He grabbed her wrists, trying to find a pulse, but not a single beat of warmth or life greeted him. She lay limp in his arms.

"Hermione? Hermione?" he shouted, his breaths suddenly becoming short and ragged. It hurt him to breathe alone.

His heart shattered.

His hopes and dreams… broken and irreparable.

He pulled her up, trying to get her sit up as he held her against him. He kissed her face, her cheeks, and her eyes.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

Tears slipped from his eyes without his consent and knowing.

He felt pain… cold and undefeatable pain that he knew he would relive every single day of his life.

"Wake up, Hermione!" he shouted, crying. One of his tears fell upon her face, but she did not stir.

Even with his pleads, she did not move.

"Wake up!" he cried, tears pouring down his face, holding her close. "Come back to me, Hermione! Come back! I'm here! I came back! I'm alive! I kept my promise, Hermione, can't you see that? Come back to me!"

He began to sob, feeling his heart just suddenly… give way.

It fell and it fell, shattering as it landed in the hollow pit of his stomach.

His lungs were filled with toxic heat, and breathing alone, breathing, and knowing she was no longer, hurt too much to bear.

"I promised…" he whispered, no longer struggling to keep them back, for he knew no other way. "I promised."

"I came back. I came back, Hermione. Please don't leave me. I love you. I love you so much, Hermione, please… Don't leave me here."

A tragic tale of two lovers.

Two enemies, who somehow, someway, transformed into the people who would love each other the most.

The world has never seen such a thing.

They lived to love each other, lived to keep the other alive.

They lived to give each other a purpose, a purpose to keep striving, to keep struggling.

They lived to vow eternal love, and they did.

An eternal love that even the angels could not tell of the age it would fade, an eternal love that would still keep living… even after death.

He was Draco Malfoy, the infamous bastard extraordinaire, and he knew no kindness, no benevolence, no compassion and sympathy. He lived just to live, and to push others down when they were already slipping off the ladder… until fate took a surprising turn, and showed him someone to love, someone to give his life for.

And she was Hermione Granger, the legendary bookworm who knew all the answers to anything. She was neither hated nor liked. She believed in intelligence, kindness, goodwill and compassion, and most of all, love. She lived to do good things in the world; she lived to make it a better place… but what was unexpected, what was unforeseen, was that destiny gave her someone to love, and along the way, to change.

He and she, lived in completely different worlds…

Their love for each other would've puzzled many… if anyone else had known.

"As he faced the sun he cast no shadow."

End.