Rick Grimes was not a stupid man.
He was stubborn, yes, and determined… But he was far from stupid. Draco figured that it was mainly because of him that the small band of survivors had made it this long. Shane didn't think to raid the police department for guns and ammunition before he left, much less realize that staying near Atlanta was foolish. And he didn't really teach the others how to protect themselves. Rick, however, did – even after waking up in a hospital full of roamers after being in a coma for at least a month. The world had changed in that time, more than he realized, and yet he still had mind enough to arm himself. He'd come to the camp without full knowledge of what the world was coming to, but he knew that staying near the city was stupid. And he taught everyone how to shoot a gun, regardless of whether or not they were a good shot.
The rest were a bit more difficult to figure out.
Lori was one of the most annoying – and had been even worse before Rick had shown up. In the early days, she moped around, muttering about feeling guilty for leaving Rick in the hospital when he had no way of knowing what was going on. She had evidently hooked up with Shane on the way to Atlanta, and judging from the looks that they shared even after Rick came back, she wasn't quite sure how she felt. The other evening, she'd snuck to the edge of camp with Shane – nearly stepping on Draco's foot as he stood next to one of the trees – and they whispered for nearly an hour about regret and fidelity. More and more now, she was angry.
Carl had come to Atlanta with his mother and Shane, following the directions that they had heard broadcast over the radio. For the most part, he seemed like a typical kid – he was friends with the others who were around his age, and they were all playing with the dirt and making up their own games. He whined more than the others did, which irritated Draco to no end, but he was normally occupied when the wizard was watching the group.
He didn't watch anyone else closely, except Andrea. She was blonde, her cheeks scattered with freckles, and her eyes a beautiful shade of blue. In other words, she could almost pass for a Malfoy. Almost. She was with her younger sister when the latter died, and she'd shot her in the head herself to keep her from coming back. She didn't talk much after that – or do much of anything, really.
Until tonight.
It was colder than he'd anticipated it being when he left the tents, so he planned on only checking in on the other camp to make sure they were alright. He would have too, so he could rush back to his pile of blankets and a drink. But Andrea had come out of Dale's RV alone, dressed only in a sweatshirt and jeans and the way the moon turned her hair silver mesmerized him. As if she'd heard him, she looked toward the spot in the woods where he was standing. And she spoke. "Do you talk? Or do I need to shoot you too?"
"Oh, I talk." He flexed his fingers in his cloak as he walked forward so she could see him. "You could still shoot me, though."
Her lips twitched slightly. "Damn straight."
They were both quiet as she motioned for him to sit down. He obliged, choosing to get close enough to talk without bringing the others outside but not so close that she would be uncomfortable.
"I'm Draco." It felt strange, leaving his last name off, but there was no need for it. Malfoy meant nothing in America, and meant even less now. It felt even stranger to pretend that he didn't know who she was. "And you are…?"
"Hoping for some sort of distraction from all this." Her mouth slid into a little smirk for a few seconds. "But that's a mouthful. I'm Andrea."
"Nice to meet you." He shifted his gaze to the snow. "What's your story?"
But of course he didn't have to ask. She launched into it, telling him about her job at the law firm, and about driving Amy to college when the zombies started taking over everything. She talked about her parents, her friends, her favorite food. And when she was done, she didn't ask for his story. She didn't ask for any sympathy. She had only one question. "Can you get me out of here? Just until morning. I can't go back in that camper tonight."
"It's now or never, I think." He stood at once, offering her his hand. "I can't say that my companion will be all too pleased to see you, but just ignore him. With any luck, he won't be up."
"Surely he can't be any more annoying than Shane," she joked.
He only smiled.
Their walk through the woods was a quick and silent one, made easier because he knew that she would never find his campsite again after she left in the morning. The charms over it were cast well, and even he had trouble remembering the precise spot sometimes when he went out. Tonight was different, perhaps because he was so eager to get there. Andrea's hand was warm in his as he helped her over a couple logs, making him all too aware of what he was trying to ignore.
"Alright, here we are. It's not much, but it works." The fire was still burning, the tents dark, but there was no sign of Snape. "You're in luck. My godfather must have gone to bed."
"Good." Her voice was right in his ear, her hand on his hip. "I know this probably isn't fair. I don't know if you've got a girlfriend, or a fiancé, but if you do, she's probably dead. But I don't have a boyfriend or a fiancé, or a husband, and I'd like to do it at least one more time before some biter gets me."
"At least you're honest." He flushed, frozen where he was. What would be the harm in it? She'd go back to her own camp tomorrow. He'd stop watching them. Life would move on. "So… Okay. Let's just go in my tent first, in case he comes out again to mess with the fire."
With her nod, he led her inside the tent, thankful he could turn his back to her as he zipped the tent shut. Quickly, he slipped his wand from his sleeve and stashed it in the open duffel bag by the entrance. Just because the dead were coming back – and not as inferi – it didn't mean that muggles were allowed to know about magic.
They stripped quickly, pulling his blankets over them so stay warmer, and they didn't stop until they'd been sated several times over. Andrea fell asleep, curled on her side, and he took the opportunity to slip from his bed to grab his wand. Quietly, he murmured a spell that Severus had taught him to keep the tent warm, and then he settled back down beside the woman. He was exhausted, but he wasn't willing to sleep. Not yet. Not while he could watch Andrea for the last time, when she looked so peaceful and relaxed.
She hadn't asked for his story, but he couldn't have given it to her even if she had.
The Dark Lord had sent him, Severus, and a few other Death Eaters to the states on a scouting mission of sorts. He wanted more followers, and wanted to know if any of the American witches and wizards would be interested in joining him. Naturally, with Potter on the loose, he couldn't leave himself, so it had fallen to them. The mission seemed to be alright in the beginning. All the magical communities they visited listened to their message but didn't wish to join them (not that Draco could blame them). When they reached Georgia, they stopped for a few days to create a better plan for pitching the message to the next group. The dead began moving again the next hour.
Now only Draco and Severus were left of the group, and who knew how long they would make it until a port key was set up. He sighed as he reached over to gently brush an eyelash from Andrea's cheek, wishing everything were different.
The dead weren't supposed to walk, and he wasn't supposed to be here.
a/n;
This was written for Round 12 of the Harry Potter Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.
I write for the Montrose Magpies.
My position is Beater 1.
The overall round theme was crossovers.
My crossover was comics. I picked The Walking Dead.
My prompts were:
- 1 (phrase); now or never
- 5 (word); rush
- 6 (colour); silver
- 8 (word); honest
- 10 (word); eyelash