I own nothing, JK Rowling is a genius and I wish Draco Malfoy existed in real life. Alas, alas.

"Let me go," she breathed, half-heartedly gliding her hands up his chest to push him away. He held her waist even more fiercely if it was possible, skimming his hot mouth over the delicate patch of skin between her neck and shoulder.

"Why won't you understand? It doesn't matter what they think. Fuck them! We deserve this, after everything. Don't we?" His eyes pleaded the question his voice was breaking in asking. With everything she knew in that second, she wanted to say yes. But saying yes would mean the end of everything she knew, taking this risk.

"We can't, Draco. You know we can't. This is all so romantic now, but you'll end up hating me for not turning you down. You'll grow bitter as you grow older, holding me responsible for this irrational desire in your heart, and you'll have nothing to show for it except a name that means nothing to anyone else and the scars of rejection from your family and the wizarding world. Don't you see? We can only be temporary, caught in a patch of time that can't exist in the real world. If we existed there, our lives would be nothing like this."

She rested her head under his chin, heaving a bitter sigh. This was the only way it could be. The end was soon, the war was coming to its final moment. Either way, one of them would lose. She knew this. If one of them lost, they would both lose. She wouldn't want to pin her hopes on an already fading dream, they could never happen.

He stroked her back calmly, nuzzling her forehead with his lips and closing his eyes. He wouldn't break, and let her make this silly choice. Of course they had a chance. He was rich enough to take them far away from everything, to empty his Gringotts vault now and disregard his inheritance would still leave him with more than enough money for several lifetimes. His family would understand. They had to. Briefly, a glimpse of his Mother shot across the back of his eyelids. Her smile, her gentle look of pride that her son would live, and make the decision she never could.

But her mind could not be changed. She was saving them heartbreak; she couldn't run away with him and turn her back. She felt tears trailing down her cheeks, in the smooth unhurried way that his hands were making motions on her back. It was time to let him go.

He inhaled her scent one last time, the stomach twisting scent that hit his brain and his kneecaps just as hard every time. He felt like he was living and dying in her presence, she made him feel, but he always had the reminder that this couldn't last, and so he died a little inside every time he saw her.

Stepping back, Hermione took a shuddering deep breath and stared at his face. She had to do this, she was strong enough. He wasn't taking this lying down, and every resolve in his face staring at her was like pins shredding her heart like ribbons.

"We will see each other again. Maybe not soon, even years, but I promise we will. I will run to you the second I catch a glimpse of your eyes –"she kissed his eyelids, "or those hands –"she clutched them to her chest, "or those lips. I will kiss your lips with everything I am." She grazed her lips one last time over his mouth, running her fingers through his hair and smiled at him, her first and only love.

"Grow old with someone who makes you happy. Love a beautiful girl, have the life you deserve. Don't stay here and be killed, because that would break my heart more than knowing you are safe somewhere, and happy." His eyes widened, and he choked on his last words to her.

"You must know this. You are the only person I could be truly happy with, no matter what. I want you to be the one I grow old with, and I will never stop searching for you when this is all over. I will come back to you, I promise. Don't give up on me."

They stepped back simultaneously, knowing that the time was right. He wouldn't give up, and she wouldn't give in. Their hearts twisted in an impending fate of uncertainty, leaving behind the constants that had been this time together.

She disappeared with a tiny –pop- and he was left there, standing at the edge of the little Churchyard in a village whose name he had forgotten. The wind brought her lemon and soap breath of fresh air back into his nostrils for the last time, and he turned away to walk for as long as possible before he disapparated home and lay on the grass for hours, staring at nothing and not hearing the world around him.

A/N

So, this was a kind of oneshot that is pure sentimental fluff and I didn't know whether I wanted to see the light of day. I'm not opposed to a second chapter, I kinda like leaving it ambiguous though. It would only be one more chapter to conclude if I ever felt like giving this a conclusion. So, review and tell me what you think. I hope you liked it!

newyorklover