A/N: Something a little different. It's vague enough to keep you guessing, and specific enough to get your imagination working. I played around with words and glimpses of images that come to me when I thought of D/Hr romance, and this is what came out. Their story as I picture it, within the books. Strangely, I'm really proud of the whole thing!

Anything in italics is a whisper in the middle of the telling of the story. Does that make sense?

Disclaimer: The following story is based on the wonderful work of the very talented J.K. Rowling and her series of Harry Potter books. I own nothing you recognise. Whether or not I wish I did, is a different matter. I'm not making money from it, so kindly don't sue me.

Perhaps it was Inevitable

Perhaps it was inevitable.

They were patrolling the school corridors together that cold, winter evening when it happened. They were Head Boy and Head Girl; the student guardians of their beloved school in those troubled times, when the shadow of war hung ominously over them all; when everything around them was laced with a tinge of despair.

Sharp words echoed down the halls, dancing flames in their bright eyes, lighting their way. He accompanied his cruel words by an even crueller sneer, and for the second time since he'd known her, she couldn't contain her temper any longer. She struck out; wanting to hurt him in her anger.

He caught her wrist on time and yanked her close, in an almost automatic reaction. His grip was not gentle and his lips were not courtly, as they crushed hers in a punishing kiss. It was only a moment before she responded, fierce hands clutching at him as she opened her mouth, not to speak, but to devour him even as he devoured her.

Years of fighting and fierce passion burned in bright flames that threatened to envelop them both. Walls came tumbling down; crushing down; and the world swam in and out of focus, turning upside down, in the sheer intensity that drove their first kiss.

It took them both by surprise.

He had never thought that he felt anything for the Gryffindor mudblood princess, other than hatred and disdain. And she had never thought of the cruel, sarcastic, Slytherin prince, as anything but the obnoxious, little boy she had met seven years ago. Had he been asked what made him kiss her, he would have had no answer. Had she been asked what made her kiss him back, she wouldn't know. But did it really matter?

He pushed her roughly against the wall, crushing her small body between the cold stone and himself, and all thoughts flew out of mind. This was the time for action. Lines blurred. Muggleborn, pureblood, blond, brunette, Gryffindor, Slytherin, what did it all mean anyway?

The two of them stood for everything that made their world turn. Two opposing forces with such intensity, that when they met, the earth shook. They were ying and yang, good and evil, man and woman, pleasure and pain, all rolled in one. Time stretched around them. They were eternal.

His hands roamed her body freely and fire laced his fingertips. Her breath was torn violently from her, to escape in gasps and moans as his ruthless lips kissed, and sucked, and bit, their way onto her flesh.

Nothing could stop them. They were one of nature's great forces, driven by the fates, by rage and fire.

It was a beginning.

There were no words spoken between them as he made her his. It would always be like that between them. There was nothing to say as they gathered their clothes afterwards and dressed themselves. So many things around them were horridly complicated, but this, what should perhaps have been the most complicated of them all, was strangely, illogically, simple.

"You're mine..."


"...And I am yours."


They had found each other, and there was no power in heaven, hell or earth to split them apart.

"My love... my heart... my life..."

In the midst of war they stood together; fought together; for each other and the future of their generation, and the generations after them.

Most of their comrades were their own age; their old Hogwarts classmates. They were all young then; barely out of school; some were still students that had defied the orders of their elders and taken their future in their own hands. And these young warriors largely looked to their old Head Boy and Head Girl for guidance.

They stood proud and tall – her two friends by their side – for their peers to see, admire and follow. Together, they led the armies of the Light to battle. The four of them, the unwilling heroes in the war they had been thrust into, became the symbols of everything they were fighting for. The epitome of what it meant to take on the fight of good versus evil. They each had their losses, but they did what they had to do, and there were no regrets.

The two of them fought side by side, running, walking and sometimes crawling, in the carnage to find each other. He stood by her as she made her first kill, and held her in the darkness of the night when she cried about it. She watched him kill his own father, letting no one else do what he felt was his duty to do. She watched him stare at his father's blood staining his hands and held him tight that night, as he shook endlessly in the only moment of weakness he had even exhibited, even in front of her.

"After the war, I'll make an honest woman out of you..."

A love as strong as theirs could only be forged out of the strongest metal and in the fiercest fire. They were the metal; their strength feeding of each other's. The war was the fire; it ripped away their childish innocence, dipping them in blood and pain, and tore all previous notions they might have had, to shreds.

And then, suddenly, just when in their minds the war seemed to stretch forever, it all ended. They stood in the final battlefield, torn and bleeding from a thousand different wounds, old and new, and all was quiet around them. The stench of death filled the air and they tasted bittersweet victory in their mouths. They had won.

The few, so few, survivors that surrounded them, stepped over the corpses of their fallen comrades to embrace in joyous disbelief. He extended a hand towards her and she gravitated to his embrace. When he kissed her, she tasted the blood that trickled from the corner of his mouth and he tangled his fingers in her blood-and-sweat matted hair.

It was a time of celebration, but all the survivors, champions now, were still chilled to the very bone by everything that had happened, and visions of unparalleled horror shadowed people's haunted eyes.

"The only part of me that's still warm, is you."

Not all of them were that lucky. The world celebrated, trying to forget the ones that should have been there, but weren't. The celebrations looked and sounded fake, in the survivors' own eyes and ears. They were but children, but their childhoods had been abruptly, violently, stolen from them by terrors in black cloaks and white, faceless masks. There was nothing left from the world they once had known. They no longer knew how to celebrate.

"After the war, I'll make an honest woman out of you..."

He watched her walk down the aisle in her simple white gown and his breath caught in his throat. She hadn't wanted to wear white. She had seen too much, done too much, she said, to wear white; even on her wedding day. But their wedding symbolised something greater than themselves; wizardkind's ability to move on. The world roared with approval at their announcement and rushed to share in their joy on this special day. This was one celebration that did not feel fake. Everyone wanted to see for themselves the love that had blossomed in the midst of all the tragedy. It spelled hope for them all. Who were they to dispel that image? And so, she wore white after all.

She walked to him, a vision in white, and though he had seen her kill, though he had seen her turn her heart to stone and do things that still tormented her in her nightmares, as he looked into her big brown eyes, he couldn't help thinking that she was the purest most innocent thing that he had ever seen.

He took her hand in his and they turned to face their new life, together.

They felt the world's eyes on them. People's hopes and dreams rested on their shoulders. They were used to it by now. They had come a long way, but one thing hadn't changed. They were leaders, and the world grew to expect it from them. They had been Head Boy and Head Girl together, they had commanded an army together, and now, they would lead a people torn and bleeding, to a new beginning, together.

They were ying and yang, good and evil, man and woman, pleasure and pain, all rolled in one. Time stretched around them. They were eternal.

Perhaps it was inevitable after all.