Would You Like A Hand?

7 | trying

They had ended up walking quite a long ways; the two survivors were near the town's border. They had stopped in a house that, once again, looked the most stable out of their nearby choices. The torn down buildings all around them were crumbled like cake, and the one they chose stood proudly even with the holes in its roof.

Hermione had been mildly surprised to see that Draco burned away any bodies that they had found in the house. He had told her, "I don't want to risk the chance that they might suddenly start moving. Who knows how recently they died?"

Either it had happened to him before, or he had been traumatized when the dead bodies in the war had suddenly started moving and attacking people.

But who wasn't traumatized by that? He must've had a bad experience one day while staying in some house by himself.

She didn't complain; it was a good idea. The bodies shouldn't be allowed to move again.

They were currently standing at the kitchen table, digging out a bottle of water from their own packs. Hermione had grabbed six for herself, but she didn't know how many her new ally had taken from the store.

Either way, a mere six bottles wouldn't last her. It wouldn't last anyone.

But for now, the sun was setting and she would have to worry about getting through the night before anything else.

"You've locked all entrances?" it was the third time she'd asked, but she couldn't help herself; she was accustomed to making sure all openings were blocked by herself.

Draco didn't even bother answering this time, only sending her an exasperated look and raising an eyebrow.

"Have you double checked?" she pressed, taking a sip of water.

"If it'll make you feel better, why not check my half yourself?" Draco twisted the cap on his bottle. He added as an afterthought, "I won't be offended that you doubt me."

She hesitated before shaking her head. He was probably just as paranoid as her, anyway.

They started scavenging for some food. This place seemed mostly undisturbed, and aside from some mouldy bread and rotting fruit, they had found quite a few granola bars and a big box of cereal to have for dinner.

The two allies sat in uncomfortable chairs around the wooden, oval table to eat. The crunch of dry cereal was loud in their ears. Hermione mentally cringed every time she took a bite.

"There's couches over there you can sleep on," the girl pointed out. The living room and kitchen were open to each other, so it felt like one big room rather than two small ones.

"Are you offering to take first watch?"

"I can stay up all night."

Draco sent another look her way, this time incredulous. "Are you crazy? You're obviously exhausted; if you keep this up, you'll collapse and... or is it because you think I'll kill you in your sleep?"

"You were a Death Eater," she shrugged casually, although that hadn't been her main reason for wanting to stay up the whole night.

His expression turned apologetic - no, guilty - and then dark as he said softly, "I've never - didn't kill before the world ended."

A moment of silence passed (aside from the crunching of cereal) before Hermione said, "Does it count as killing if they're already dead?"

They had no answer for that.

He admitted, "It feels like it, but maybe it's a little different; people say you always remember your first kill, right? Their face and their expression and how you killed them... All I remember is shooting a Confringo at one of them - I don't even know who it was, or what their face looked like. But I do remember that it tried to attack me even while it was burning to death."

Draco looked up and noticed the Gryffindor girl giving him a strange look in the settling darkness.

"What?" he asked cautiously.

"You... seem to like talking," she observed, "Have you always been like that? I only remember you making ridiculous comments to Harry."

"Well, didn't you used to like showing off all your knowledge? I'm surprised you haven't talked more," he returned.

It was then that her face softened into a sad look and she commented, "It is a different world that we're living in."

They fell quiet again, but not for long. Draco swallowed some cereal and then turned to Hermione accusingly, "Why is it that you really want to stay up? It can't be because you're afraid of me - you're a bloody Gryffindor. I'm the cowardly Slytherin."

She ignored his question again: "Why cowardly? Slytherins are supposed to be clever; when did it start that you were called cowardly?"

He forced out a dark, bitter laugh, but continued with his train of thought: "I'll take second watch. Okay? You better wake me up for it."

She didn't see why he would care - she was the one who would die, not him.

He picked a couch in the next room as Hermione took another swig of water after her portion of cereal was finished. She stood from her seat and moved away from the table, leaning against the sink to look out the window over it. Night had fallen, but she couldn't see the moon from this side of the house.

Only darkness-covered grass, trees, and a dying garden awaited her gaze.

A faraway scream broke the silent night, and Hermione flinched before her mind could process that it had come from nowhere nearby.

Scanning the area quickly before turning away from the window, she took deep breaths. Sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, Hermione waited for the sun to come up.

She tried not to fall asleep sitting up.