It begins on the precipice of a prophecy fulfilled.
Hermione stands before Draco. She’s home - with him - for a few more moments. Their eyes lock, sharing silent apologies and regretful proclamations. Draco’s eyes calm her, as she indulges in the brief reprieve. After all, something in him calls to her. She knows this much is true. Hermione and Draco are fated to this end. Their love story is merely a series of malignant twists of fate.
Hermione rolls her shoulders back and stops prolonging the inevitable. She bends her knees, carefully positioning herself. Dueling is a violent dance, but one with graceful steps. Draco mimics her stance and blinks once slowly as if to say on with it then.
On with it then. Hermione brings up her wand, aiming for his chest. Draco positions his wand higher, aiming for her head. Their stances remain transfixed as they slowly bow their heads in tandem. It has begun.
“Avada kedavra!”
One lover crowned a macabre victor. The war rages on.
The Art of Defying Stars - AO3