Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N - Please note, the characters portrayed in this story are Hermione and Draco :)

"Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die."

~ Joe Louis.

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They say that war destroys people - that it does nothing but kill and create hate and animosity. Perhaps they're right, or perhaps they're wrong; either way, it matters to all those involved.

But it didn't destroy these two students, oh no. Instead it pushed them to become stronger, smarter, faster and so much more skilled than those around them. And then they graduated, knowing well enough that they would soon have to fight and sacrifice, like all those others who went out to war and never returned home.

He doesn't want to fight, because that means he has to kill. And much as he is callous and unruly, he doesn't believe he can kill. He's afraid of seeing those glazed over eyes and bodies construed all over the place.

She knew this, and she understood why. She wasn't brought up believing that one day she would have to kill either, that she would have to defend her life merely because of her blood and heritage. The only difference between them was that she knew she could take a life if need be - and he didn't.

So they ran. Not out of shame, but rather fear. Fear of the future, fear of the war, fear of the prejudice and scorn facing them. Fear of death. They ran further than the eye could see, away from her friends and his family.

And they settled down in a quaint little cottage, where the flowers blossomed in Spring and the air filled with a sweet, intoxicating essence that drew them in and helped them finally find a place called home.

He loved how she'd cook in front of the muggle stove and every Sunday, they'd walk to the muggle village together and watch the old battered television, portraying the latest disaster that had mysteriously gripped the world and left hundreds dead.

She feels guilty that she's not fighting along side her friends, but she's content that she has him by her side. He'll hold her as she cries and tell her that things will be okay, that the war has to end sometime and that one day, they'll return to the magical world.

She'll see her friends again someday, won't she?

He tries to find some way to make her happy, so he sends off for her old things. And a note comes in reply, a note bearing the names of her old companions, a note begging for her to return to them before it's too late. But she looks at the man beside her and she tucks the note in her pocket, smiling sadly.

Kissing Draco's cheek, she says, "I won't leave you."

"Maybe you should," he whispers in reply, his fingers brushing locks of brown hair out of her tear stained face. "Maybe I'm just being selfish keeping you here all to myself."

"I'd rather be here with you; where I know I'm safe and loved, than out there fighting where I know I'll die and be forgotten," she whispers.

Night sets in and they retire to their bedroom inside their cozy little cottage. Neither of them are aware of the hooded figures creeping up the cobblestone path. Neither of them hear the latch on the door clicking open and the heavy steps on the wooden floor boards that sound towards them. Draco shuffles in his sleep, reassuring himself that it's just the house settling, before laying on his side and draping his arm around her waist.

They had lived together in that quaint little cottage and in a few short seconds, they had died together in a mass of green light and triumphant devilish faces.

And nobody knew.

~Fin