Apocalypse and You | Dramione

June 5th, 2003.

June 5th, 2003.

Hermione was wandering through the store she usually visited, trying to find something that was still edible to surprise Draco with.

It was a special day, today.

She shuffled past where the old bakery used to reside, she wished she could buy Draco some bread, but they were too old, too dusty, too contaminated.

She let her legs wander to where the freezers were at the back. These were no good. The power had now gone, they were contaminated too. And of course this worried her, it shook her chest in a strange way.

It wouldn't be long before the power in her, their, home was gone, too.

She wished she could buy Draco a cake, a big green cake with candles, rainbow coloured or silver. She knew Draco liked those colours.

"Ah, Luna, what do you buy your boyfriend to eat on his birthday? Hermione asked her imaginary friend as she crosses by the counter. The coins she left months ago were still there. Covered in a thin layer of dust. The person who usually takes them had not taken them this time.

An image of a graveyard springs in her mind like a putrid smell.

But then like magic, she spotted a sticker on the edge of the till, the till that is out of service, the contents emptied. It was a flower, a small flower sticker a child would stick to their knee on a summer day, with pink and yellow petals, covered with glitter.

Flowers, Hermione, always buy your boyfriend flowers.

Although Hermione didn't take Draco for a guy who would relish in a sunflower field on a summers day, or pick at roses as he crossed a park. She knew he would like them. It would show him how much she cared. How much she would always care.

They weren't edible, of course, so she set out to find a bar of chocolate that is still in date, she succeeded, placing a white bar into the plastic bag. She found some cookies and grabs the usual tinned fruit and vegetables Draco liked to eat for dinner. Hermione didn't favour them, anymore, they were watery and she craved real food, but Draco liked them.

On Hermione's walk home, she had picked flowers from overgrown gardens and placed them into a tin she had taken from the shop. Of course it didn't look most pleasing to the eye, but it looked as good as she could get.

She had spotted some more animals wandering the streets, and had to nervously duck away from a small group of sheep wandering in the main road. One of them stepped on a paper, leaving a round mark of mud on the cover.

Curiously, she leant down to pick it up.

Feelings were fickle. Memories were fickle. Upon reading the title, The Daily Prophet, a weird sense of sadness rippled throughout Hermione's body.

"More hideaway oblivated wizards found hiding in Devon."

Her stomach began to throb with something. Something she couldn't place. Yet, she laughed. She laughed so hard she doubled over.

She threw the paper back to the floor, telling herself not to occupy her mind with thoughts from a children's magazine.

She never bothered to tell Draco about the paper.

-

"Draco?" Hermione called out, setting the bag of shopping onto the counter. She held the flowers in a tight fist.

There was no reply.

"Malf- Draco?" She called again, a gloom of dread falling into her chest.

No no no no no, not Draco. Anyone but Draco. Please.