Two years later, there will be two lovers. Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass. Two dancers meeting behind the white-washed walls of studios, stealing glances and touches for the mirrors to witness. They'll be coated in sweat, their muscles strained with the steps, but it'll be worth it. Worth it like the day Draco will cover Astoria's room with white rose petals because they remind him of home, and home is something Draco wants to be to Astoria.

Months after this, they'll be a single entity; limbs wrapped around each other to the point where it's difficult to separate which is which. Not that anyone has to. Draco and Astoria will both be the arms supporting the heavy load life dumps on them, They'll be the tears at four o'clock when it's too dark to see where the ghost of depression is hiding. Separation won't do anyone good.

"You have me." Draco will say, rubbing small circles on Astoria's back. And Astoria will turn around and plant a kiss on Draco's lips because those three words will be enough to get her through the vigorous hours of practicing, all those minutes of 'you're not good. why are you even trying. give up.'. Astoria's kisses will be fertile. They will bloom into reddish spots against the pale skin Draco Malfoy. Other times, they will be leafy remarks after dinner when their stomachs are filled with Blaise, their mutual friend's, lasagna.

The vivid taste of spices will not be lost on them. In fact, it will be preserved by the heat of their tongues as they tumble into their bedroom, bodies moving in an unchoreographed dance only they could pull off. Their names will be suspended in mid-summer's breeze whooshing through the opened window. Shredded moans and frantic fingers. This will be what Draco and Astoria is all about.

But it will not be all that splendid. Come winter and these two young lovebirds will fight after Draco caught Astoria fucked by a man that of course, isn't him. Yells will poison the walls where i love you's, you mean a lot to me, i'm not gonna leave you are hanged.

"Please please please, don't leave me. I was drunk, please don't leave me." Astoria will plead, words getting caught in the web of her muffled sobs.

"i don't see what's the point anymore." Draco will admit, hands tight on the handle of his bag, towing it down the bed and out of the room.

And Astoria will not remember how she did it, but she will somehow manage to run to Draco and cage him in her arms. She'll be ragged, eyes red and frantic. And even though Astoria will avoid making eye contact with Draco because she's sure he will walk away, he will do the opposite and bend down to plant a kiss on her's lips.

And this. This. This kiss will remain rooted to Astoria's incisors and will only wither years and years and years later when their hair will be as white as snow coating the ground.

-o-

Two years later, there will be two roommates. Their fate will be intertwined in the strings of connections and their need for financial support because it's not easy to live in a nice place in a nice area of the city. There will be Hermione Granger and Tom Riddle; the librarian and the math teacher. There will be weeks of trying to get used to each other, mornings of 'where the fuck did you put my mug?', evenings of 'if you're going out, don't forget to bring your keys, Hermione. We both know I'm not sacrificing a few seconds of sleep just to open the door for you. I never did.'

"Yeah and that's why my ass is practically frozen." Hermione will mumble while glaring at Tom as he rubs his eyes. She will swear it's not cute even though somewhere in her heart, she knows it is. (especially when Tom runs a hand through his jet black hair that Hermione can just write an essay about).

With his eyes widening in disbelief and mouth shaped in an 'o', Tom will walk behind Hermione and say "Ass? Where?"

Darkening shades of red will taint Hermione's pale cheeks, bringing out Tom's favorite color in the entire universe. Why else would he take delight in teasing his bushy-haired house-mate? "I hate you! Go rot in hell where Satan can drill his pitchfork into your 'ass' because according to you, I don't have one so I must be safe." Hermione will proclaim and go back to the confines of her room, cursing Tom from head to toe.S he will not mean it. And Tom will make sure Hermione doesn't.

And of course, there will be secrets they would only keep to themselves. Such as:

Tom will tiptoe until he's in front of the bathroom every morning. He will do this every six forty-eight when Hermione is showering while singing some songs.

And this will be Hermione's little secret:

She will pretend to be amused with taking pictures of inanimate objects in their living room. A DSLR camera will be strapped from her neck as she clicks the seconds away. It will take Tom three days to get used to it, to get comfortable to Hermione's weird habit, even. So by then, Hermione will position herself in front of a flower vase, pressing the shutter button down and capturing Tom behind the flower vase. Click, zoom, click, adjust, click, new angle, click. A week later, her camera's SD card will be full. No problem. They're of Tom so they're worth the space: Tom frowning. Tom crinkling his nose. Tom with glasses and eyes squinted over the small print of test papers. Tom and his tongue slightly sticking out in concentration. Tom drinking water.

Over time, they'll learn to mold themselves around each other.

Tom will double check by leaving a spare key under the welcome mat outside their door, just in case Hermione forgets to bring hers. In turn, Hermione cooks Tom's favorite dishes every weekend, as a reward for the devastating, tiring work days. And Tom won't be sure what he loves more; the noodles or Hermione's voice as she sings while setting the table. Maybe it's a little bit of both. Maybe it's both combined. Either way, they will give him those tingly-tingly butterflies in his stomach.

He'll think about it. Groggy eyes will be glued to the ceiling of his room, and he isn't sure if it's the ceiling he's looking at because it's too dark. He will ponder over the complexities of Hermione. What sort of equation he must solve to piece Hermione together. Tom will have nights dedicated to condensing his house-mate in numbers, exponents, equation signs balancing his value to what Hermione can purge out of him.

Ears would prick at the sound of pots banging against something like marble one night. Alert, Tom will run out to find what the ruckus was about. The question is she okay will echo in his mind, and it would disappear as he catches sight of her in the middle of their kitchen, wincing as she removes a large pan from his toes.

"Here, let me help you." Tom will say, wrapping an arm around Hermione's waist and carrying her to a chair.

"I'm sorry for the trouble." Hermione will lower hr head as Tom roams around for their first aid kit. "I got hungry and i knew you were sleeping so I tried to be quiet and because uh, I was a bit clumsy, I tripped and had these pans jerked off the shelf."

"A bit?" Tom will be amused. Hermione will shed bright red-again, his favorite color and Tom won't be able to help himself as he walks to Hermione and plants a kiss on her lips.

And . This kiss will remain rooted to Hermione's tongue and will only wither years and years and years later when their hair will be as white as snow coating the ground.

-o-

But that's not what we're looking for. It's not the future, but the present.

It's autumn now and leaves are blazing in red and gold until they burn themselves out and kiss the ground. People's footsteps will crush them until they resemble ashes. No one but Hermione notices this, though. Everyone else is too busy looking around. Pedestrians with their eyes darting left and right, trying to cross the street without getting killed by zooming cars.

What a beautiful day, Hermione takes a deep breath in an attempt to store the dust particles of this season in her lungs. Her close friends call her a hopeless romantic. She's too aware to shrug away the nickname. But today, nothing matters. All that she could think about is the paper on her pocket; the address it contains and the wallet on her back pocket. Three months of searching for a new places to live and finally her good friend Minerva suggested this man who's looking for a flat mate.

"You'll like this dude. Basically, he's perfect." Minerva said, while sipping the root beer that Hermione bought last week.

Traffic's ruckus beside her brings her back to the present. It's two more blocks from here. Just go walk forward and then turn left. It would be easy to find. Hermione chides herself.

-o-

Draco started seeing things clearly after Blaise mapped the direction to the newest dance studio in their area. It's another bus stop away and he's already excited. No, scratch that. Excited is goofy smiles, sudden dancing. It's more than that. Today, Draco is euphoric.

What a beautiful day, he thinks and walks forward. If he turns to the right, he's going to see the bus stop and the first step to his dreams. Dancing has always been something he loves doing.

However, his vision falls on something, or rather, someone before him. Draco slows down.

Hermione halts when she feels someone looking at her. Paces away, there's a lean guy clad in tight jeans and loose shirt, yet there's something in the way he wears them that makes them stand out. Hermione likes that. But the look the stranger is giving him is not-likable.

Draco squints even though the sun's yellow rays aren't affecting his eyes. There's something about the girl before him that he can't point out. Sort of like trying to remember something you know you can't think about again. They stand like that for a few seconds (maybe sixty. maybe a minute); Draco staring, Hermione looking back, trying to act composed.

Brown hair, soft-looking skin, slender shoulders. Draco soaks this all in before shaking his head. He smiles and resumes to walking. Hermione smiles back and resumes to walking.

Draco to the east.

Hermione to the west.

It isn't until Draco is near the bus stop when he remembers why he stopped for that girl who looked familiar. He turns back, but the girl with brown hair and fragile shoulders isn't there anymore.

It isn't until Hermione is near the apartment building when she remembers why she didn't flinch or started walking away quickly when the guy observed her earlier. She turns back, but the man with the squinted eyes isn't there anymore.

-o-

Two years ago, there were two best friends. One a bookworm, the other a talented dancer; Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Innocent in every sense of the word. Hermione sang the melodies Draco danced to. Underneath bridges and on sidewalks, these two would always showcase their talent for the world to see-and praise.

"I want to stay like this forever," it's Draco who said words like that and Hermione who smiled and agreed. "Don't you want to remain like this forever?"

"Of course I do." Hermione replied. Twelve-thirty five A.M. And they're loitering on the streets, covered in all black with the aura of naïveté still over them. They're just sixteen but Hermione knows a lot better than him: talent will only get you far in life, connections are important, drink eight glasses of water a day, nothing lasts forever. She does not tell him that. She never told Draco everything she knows. Hermione let Draco remained free, left him to his own devices but still kept an arm over his shoulders to protect him when the load gets heavy.

"Mione, I've read somewhere that octopuses have three hearts, isn't that amazing?"

"It is. It is," Hermione grinned. Draco smiled, but it was more to the lines at the side of Hermione's eyes, reappearing every time she smiles. More to the familiar features than to the inviting lips. "But if that's the case, do you think they love more than we do?"

Not even a second. He reached for her hand and announced. "No, they don't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because, no one can love you more than I do. Not even aquatic animals with abnormal features."

"You're comparing your love to me with an animal. Wow, I'm so touched."

Draco bumped his hip against Hermione's, eliciting laughter out of her.

-o-

"A lot of people are getting seriously worried over this influenza," Hermione heard Draco's mother murmur from the kitchen.

He grabbed her by her waist, towing her out of the house before she could reply to anything. "Come on, the earlier we get there, the better."

Tangible darkness accompanied them as Draco drove his mother's car to their 'spot'. It's nothing more than an abandoned field, though. But they could both swear over their own lives that it's the best place to look for stars. Three hours, sleepy lids later, and they arrived in their 'spot'.

Hermione and Draco are sprawled all over the ground, blades of grass flirting with their bare skin. None of them knew a single constellation, but it seemed fine as long as there are stars to carve their own constellations.

"Mione? Do you think well, that what we have can withstand stuff?"

"What do you mean?" raised eyebrows and pursed lips, Hermione studied Draco. He sounded years older than her.

"I mean, what if none of this would last? Let's test ourselves."

"How?"

"Hmm, okay. Like what you told me a few months ago, nothing is constant, so let's say that in that future, we'll meet each other again without fail. When that happens, it means that we are, sorry to sound cheesy, meant to be. Then we'll marry each other then and there. Deal?"

Hermione grinned. It's not like she could see herself with anyone else. Twinkling stars bore witness as she agreed.

"Deal."

-o-

"I'm going to have my son treated in London. What about yours?"

"Paris. Her father is there and I'm sure a few months of vacation from this place would do my Mione some good."

"Let's hope. Let's hope. This sickness has really been getting to everyone. I just don't understand why our child's conditions can be so severe. They're young! They should have been stronger!"

"Hush now, don't fret over it. Medicines these days work miracles. Don't fret over it. If Draco is able to open his eyes I'm sure he wouldn't want to see you cry."

"It's still useless! You heard what the doctor said earlier, you heard that he's prone to losing memories!"

"Don't fret over it, Cissy. You're not the only one who's child is suffering. My Mione is, too."

-o-

Today, Draco observes the streets as the bus moves faster.

Today, Hermione rings the doorbell of the guy named Tom's apartment.

Word count: 2,727

Please read and review!