Apocalypse and You | Dramione

November 11th, 2003.

November 11th, 2003.

It rained for months.

The rain flooded the garden and it sept through the windows of the house, creating damp spaces on the floor and on the walls.

The heating no longer worked.

Draco was waiting for that to happen, for the supplier to run out. It was only a matter of time before the water completely runs dry and the power will go too.

He hoped that day would not be too soon.

It was gloomy, too.

Not only in regards to the weather, but in regards to them.

Draco could sense the iciness from Hermione as soon as they woke up. The usual hand trickling through his hair curled up against her own chest.

Empty, distant.

It was normally Draco that crumbled. It was normally Draco who woke up crying, who yelled, who crashed into venom and acid. Not Hermione.

She's giving up, Draco.

She didn't greet Draco with a morning kiss. She didn't tell him she loved him the moment she woke up, instead she peeled herself from the cold of the bathtub and silently walked into the kitchen.

Draco could hear the cupboards slam, tight with anger. He could hear the sob escape from Hermione's throat and her feet pattering around the house desperately but with no destination.

He wanted to comfort her, but everytime he stepped close, she stepped away.

She hid her face. Hermione cried. Hermione didn't listen.

Only when the sun began to set, Hermione seemed somewhat normal. Her body still tense with gloom and her eyebrows furrowed, but she had stopped crying-For now.

She didn't sit near Draco on the couch like usual, she didn't run her hand between Draco's thighs like she always did. But he speaks, for the first time that day, cold and low. Cold and sad.

"What are we going to do?"

Draco let his eyes lift to her. He raised an eyebrow unconsciously and shuffled closer towards her on the couch.

"About what?"

Hermione scoffed.

Rude, Draco thought. Hermione was never rude. But today she was rude. Today she was abnormal.

Today, the apocalypse was taking a toll on her.

"This!" Hermione threw her hands up into the air. Her crumpled features were being lit from one side from the damp window, the shadows of rain casting a grey glow on her face, illuminating it in sorrow. "This is painful Draco, everyday sucks because we are living for nothing."

It was Draco's time to scoff now. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Hermione, who had always the positive one. Hermione, who saved his life. Hermione, his love, was giving up, thinking negatively and angrily.

She is giving up. Save her, Draco.

"What had gotten into you, today, Hermione?" Draco was careful with his tone and words. He was careful with his body language, but the soft hand he tried to set onto Hermione's fist was rejected, pushed away into the plush of the couch. "We are living for something, Her-"

"What's gotten into me? I don't know. I don't know, Draco. Maybe it's the constant reminder of my dead family and friends-My mothers shoes sitting in the hallway, or the cranberry body wash I found under the sink before I went to bed." Hermione choked out a sob, it ripped through her chest and caused her to fold over on herself. "Maybe it's the fact i can't remember anything, I can't remember my friends, i can't remember if i ever loved before you, i constantly feel like a fucking idiot because i don't know what happened before now."