This Bitter Earth

THIRTY

A/N: Okay I know I said there was one more chapter, but as I compiled it, it turned into a giant thing so guess what? You get a reward, dear readers, for being so good to me. You get two chapters at once. This is unprecedented for me, so feel special. I just didn't want to edit anything out and cut it down, so consider this an author's cut or whatever. Anyway, you're welcome.

Thank you to Bree, this would not be here without her and thanks to AdAsttra who made me feel not crazy while trying to finish this.

Soundtrack- "Alone Made of Ice" by Maldito and "Orpheus" by Vincent Lima

THIRTY

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Draco had always thought dying would leave him cold, but this was... not that bad, truth be told. In fact, it was kind of cozy.

He was warm, all over his body, deep inside too. It was strange, he hadn't felt like this in... in... Shit. He couldn't remember.

Yes, he could. He could remember the last night he spent with her, before the battle, before freeing the Muggleborns, before Azkaban and... before wherever he was now. He wished Granger was here—not that she was dead too—just that she was with him. Like she had been that night, wrapped up in him, around him. His entirely—his... only.

Draco breathed out. Weird. Did he still have to breathe in the afterlife? That would be annoying. Did his heart still beat too? He thought he could feel it, thumping in the heavy rhythm it always did, except when—

"Hi Draco."

It was soft and far away, but it was her. He'd know her voice anywhere. Even in hell. Even in death.

"When are you coming back?"

Coming back.

He'd almost forgotten.

Basking in the warmth and comfort, Draco hadn't even thought about what it meant that he was starting to reawaken, starting to... turn.

He didn't want to, didn't want to come back. Not if it meant that he had to be one of those dead things. Draco dug himself deeper into the darkness.

He just wanted her. Hermione. She had to be down here somewhere. She never left him for too long.

"Please, Draco," It was softer this time, barely a whisper. "You promised..."

He had. He had promised to serve the Dark Lord in life and in death. And if this was it. He was going to run for as long and hard as he could. Hermione had told him to stay down, stay safe, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

He didn't have a choice.

If he rose again, he wouldn't be safe at all. And neither would she.

Refusing her call, Draco sank further into the recesses of his mind. The darkness closed around him like a shroud. He pulled away from her, trying to hide.

While he could.

Just until...

Until he heard another familiar voice. It was muffled, but it was very clearly his mother. What the fuck was she doing here? He was clearly dead then.

"...I don't know why...why he's like this."

"Was... your husband? After he... got out?"

Draco could remember his father after Azkaban, a shrunken shell; more mad than man. He didn't want to be like that, broken and lost. Draco had seen the worst of his father and followed the same path anyway. It was in his blood, after all.