Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights go to the amazing J. K. Rowling and all her work.


Gone In The Wind by SparklyAshTree

They sit in the dark, the shroud of night covering their faces from the world. No one deserves to see the twisted mangle of agony that a war long past has caused to the celebrated victors. The night is their friend, the only remaining one to still believe in their dreams and hopes, their happiness now far beyond reach. He smiles, giving a toast of old wine and a dirty mug, celebrating the fact that they have survived so long, away from the clutches of the ministry and past friends and foes. She smiles back, accepting the toast with grace and allowing herself to savour the beauty of the moment that is soon to pass. It always does.

"Why do you think they hunt us?" She asks, not allowing the faint tremors of upset she feels to show in her voice.

"Because we are the hunted. We are the prey. And, quite simply, because they can. We ran, remember?" He replies softly, his voice barely stirring the air around him.

And she does remember. She remembers the screams of the dying, the agonised wails of the living and the smell of fear and trepidation hanging low in the air. She remembers the long wait for news of the front line. Had he done it? Was he still alive? Was anyone alive? And, perhaps most importantly, she remembers the voice that no one else could hear.

"What's that?" She asks, her voice hushed in the eerie quiet.

"What's what?" Asks the redhead beside her, her face grim yet confused in the flickering torch light.

"That voice... Did you not hear it?"

I heard nothing. I don't know which is scarier actually, the fact that there is a voice that I'm apparently missing out on, or the fact that I can hear absolutely nothing during what was meant to be the battle of the century."

"Chill Ginny. It's all fine. I'm probably just hearing things because of all the stress of the battle."

"Yeah, that's probably it." Although her voice does not sound convinced and she still looks uncertain.

"Look, there are some more DeathEaters. Probably trying to sneak back to their master. Let's get them!" She says, in a desperate bid to try and distract Ginny so she can sneak away and find out what that voice was.

"Oh yeah! This is gonna be awesome..." Ginny smiles, an evil smirk hiding beneath the surface. She thinks that Ginny has been spending too much time in the presence of DeathEaters and Slytherins.

As soon as she is gone, she leaps up and runs down the corridors, trying to keep up with the now fading voice that she had previously heard.

Following it all the way to the bridge, where she sees him fighting some more DeathEaters. She immediately rushes to help, and soon they are all vanquished. An awkward silence hangs over them, neither of them knowing what to say, until she hears shouts coming from the Great Hall, and immediately follows them to see what is happening.

Sighing, she comes out of the memory and looks back across at him. He looks back at her, his hair shining in the moonlight, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. No words are needed. He knows her, and she knows that she can trust him. She still doesn't know what that voice was, but she has a persistent feeling that it was him, desperately trying to gain help from the nearest source he could in the only way he knew how. Legilimency. And he did have the best teacher.

And it feels like fate to her, the way he just seemed to appear at her shoulder whilst she was hovering near the back of the group, wanting desperately to see him one last time but not wanting to break up the family. They had the right, after all. And it wasn't as if they liked her anymore. Not after what they thought she had done. He just stood behind her and whispered in her ear,

"You can either stay here, mourning his loss with people who no longer like or trust you, or you can come away with me, and see the world properly, with fresh, newly opened eyes. It's your choice Hermione."

He had held out his hand, an offer, and with one final glance at the people she used to love, she took it and they both left silently, without anyone realising they were gone.

And here they were now, in some open field in the heart of rural Romania, both trying to carry on being normal by being as abnormal as possible. And it was working. Well, as far as travelling around countries with no spare baggage, passports, and having people chasing you for reasons that have become so obscure they are now just excuses, can be normal.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. I never really got to say it before. Without this, I don't know where I would be."

"Well, a godforsaken cubicle where you have to do paperwork all day, with no books or entertainment in your life whatsoever sounds pretty likely." He replies, his customary smirk in place.

And although she replies in kind, smacking him across his chest for his cheek, she knows that it is all just a facade. For both of them. But when he reels her in and kisses her, slowly and full of passion, she realises that she wouldn't trade this for the world.

This is where she belongs. Lying here, in the arms of the enemy, both feeling drowsy and staring up at the clear sky and twinkling stars, with their empty eyes and broken hearts. Eyes that are slowly filling up, and hearts that are slowly mending. Yes, this is where she belongs. And she wouldn't change it for anything.


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