Would You Like A Hand?

14 | about

Her wound had reopened, but it wasn't that serious.

Draco had pinned her down before she could do much more harm. They took a second to check on it, making sure she was okay to run yet again.

I'll probably end up tearing it open even more, she thought.

Currently, they were grabbing their bags and leaving through the back door after confirming that there were zombies collecting around the front of the store, attracted to Hermione's earlier screaming.

Peaking around the back door let them know it led into an alleyway, the darkness of night enveloping the area, and they took note of the few undead scratching at the walls, dumbly trying to break through.

When Draco pushed the door open wider, it screeched open, and the undead all whipped around immediately. Draco and Hermione took that as their cue to start running.

Draco led this time, looking back occasionally to make sure Hermione was still following him.

The alleyway was short, and the students were glad for it; it was dangerous and difficult to navigate a small, crowded space in the dark.

Using their magic, they blocked the path behind them with the rubble and trash strewn everywhere so their pursuers would be trapped.

The alley opened up to a wide road. The moon was nowhere to be seen.

The cool night air felt nice on their faces - a stark contrast to the afternoon sun earlier in the day. Hermione wondered how the undead would last and how they would fare in colder weather. The weather was subtly transforming from summer heat into autumn rain.

Winter would be upon them in no time.

As the two slowed down to a jog, Hermione tried to ignore the tearing feeling by her belly.

It would've been agonizing if she weren't pumped with adrenaline and running for her life.

The world blurred past them. She let Draco lead, not worrying about where they were going. She trusted him to pick a safe spot.

Instead, she kept her eyes open for suspicious shadows and movement in the darkness.

They didn't go too much further; houses surrounded them once again, but they were tiny here. The walls were surprisingly colourful - a splash of personality against a dull background, even bathed in the shadows of night.

Even the sky wasn't that blue, was it? Hermione thought it was a pale grey during the day, as if it were cloudy all the time.

She didn't know when she started seeing the world in grays and blacks, but she was startled to see such brightness - is that red? Yellow? Orange?

She had almost forgotten that such colour existed.

Just like she forgot her own name every time until it was called.

"Granger?" Draco's distant voice brought her attention back to the present. He stood a couple steps ahead. She hadn't realized she'd stopped to stare at the obnoxious colours in awe.

Cursing herself internally, she broke her gaze from the painted walls and jogged up to her companion.

He continued to lead, picking one of the small houses (the orange one) to explore.

The exterior was crumbling apart, as usual, but the interior was structurally sound, as far as Hermione could tell - and she couldn't tell much since it was pitch black inside.

"Lumos," she repeated Draco's muttered spell, waving her wand in its familiar pattern.

With their own sources of light, they each fell into routine and began searching their sides of the house, locking any potential entrances (especially windows) and making sure no zombies would sneak up on them.

Hermione was extra cautious as she entered all the rooms she could find; her wound was a constant reminder that she couldn't let her guard down.

No dead bodies littered her areas, although she heard a thump somewhere on Draco's side of the house and then an "Incarcerate!"

By the time she was finished and walked into the kitchen (their general meeting spot after every single patrol), Draco was already done scavenging for edible food.

"Everything's rotten here," he let her know, "Looks like someone must've been here before us. There's traces of stolen things."

"How long did you let me sleep?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Guilt flashed over his face, and that was enough of an answer for Hermione.

She said flatly, "I'll take second watch now."

"You'll never recover if you keep going on like this, Granger."

"Then let me die."

A flare of anger lit in Draco, but he took a second to cool it before saying, "Why? Don't you have a plan? From the way you cryptically phrase your answers to my questions, I assumed you had a plan. I thought you were going to be a stupid Gryffindor and try to defeat the Dark Lord! What happened to Potter and Weasley? Where are they? Don't tell me they're dead and you've given up. Is that it?"

She retaliated harshly, "Harry and Ron are not dead!"

"Sounds like you're trying to convince yourself," he sneered, "If they're not dead, why're you so eager to die?"

"What do you care? You wanted us all dead anyway!" Hermione glared.

He visibly flinched, but then returned her glare, "That's right - I was a Death Eater. How could I forget? I killed Dumbledore after all, so what's to stop me from killing everyone else?"

Something about the way he said it stopped her. Uneasily, she asked, "Everyone else?"

"I killed an entire family," he sneered, "What a surprise."

-

end note: hey again! Once again, a friendly reminder to nominate this story if you like it for the Fanfiction Awards 2017.

I don't think I'll get anything out of it, but it's nice to know that people like this story!

Alternatively, a vote or comment lets me know just as well!

-aeratheninja