SUMMERY: The world is left in shambles from a bloody war with no winner. The survivors are left to pick up the pieces. What will a former Death Eater do when he sees a mysterious, broken woman on the verge of death in a deserted alley?
Chapter One
It seemed even the sun couldn't bring itself to shine upon the dreary, desolate world anymore. A never-ending overhang of clouds blocked the sky from view, casting a gray shadow down upon what was left of the human race. Most people didn't even bother lifting their heads up anymore. Why bother when there was no longer anything left to live for? Some wondered why they still tried foraging for food when most nights they still went to bed hungry. A person could go bed with a broken nose just for fighting over a moldy piece of bread. And that was if they were lucky. Most times the streets were filled with the chorus of rumbling stomachs. It was better than the sobbing, anyway.
The young man currently walking alone down what was once a busy London street was one of the lucky ones. He still had a home to go to, though he spent most of his time fighting off the intruders who were bold enough to make a move. He'd learned to cook during the end of the war, having the foresight to realize that once it was over he would either have to use Muggle means or act like the other dregs of society and pilfer dumpsters, alleys, or rob people who were stupid enough to walk by. And he didn't have it in him. He might have been suffering, but he didn't have to lower himself just yet.
Draco Malfoy sighed as he took a moment to reflect on what had become of his life. He'd been a Prefect at Hogwarts during his fifth and sixth year. Head Boy his seventh. The moment he'd turned seventeen he'd eagerly joined the Death Eaters, making his mother and father immeasurably proud of him. A year later he'd married Daphne Greengrass, a fellow Slytherin girl who'd been as eager about the start of her adult life as he had. But what did he have to show for it, seven years later?
An empty shack of a house and a world on the brink of extinction.
No one would have guessed the outcome of the War to end all Wars. The Dark Lord had been at the height of his power. Dumbledore was gone, the Resistance was dwindling, and they'd been close to moving in on Potter and Weasley. The location was known. It was only a matter of time before they were drawn out and stopped once and for all.
But no one, not even the most skilled prophets in the Wizarding World, could have predicted what would happen next.
The asteroid had appeared out of nowhere. Like someone had Accio'd it from the depths of space and brought it down in the middle of Russia just because they had nothing better to do. By the time anyone, wizard or muggle, found out about it, it was too late. Most of Europe and Asia had been completely wiped out. Australia was lost completely, and the west coast of America had broken apart from the rest of the continent. It might've sunk to the bottom of the ocean like the muggle ship Titanic, for all Draco knew. Or it could still be floating out there in the middle of the nowhere like it's own little continent. Draco didn't really care. All he knew was that the asteroid had ended the war on it's own terms, wiping out most of civilization and leaving what was left to fend for themselves in a world much more terrifying than one with the Dark Lord still living in it.
Lord Voldemort might be gone, but so was Potter and Weasley. Not that Draco could know for sure because there were no means of communication, but he supposed it didn't really matter one way or the other. What was there left to fight for? A world with no sun? A colony of people who behaved more like feral animals than humans? Wizards blended in with muggles in their fight to survive. They didn't care about Harry Potter any more than they did about the Minister of Magic. It was matter of life or death. Kill or be killed. That was what surviving that asteroid came down to. Nothing more.
And even through all of that, Draco still came out of his house to witness the carnage first hand. Shops and restaurants were now nothing more than shambles of buildings but he still came out to look at them. He supposed it was to reassure himself that there had been life before the asteroid. It hadn't merely been a dream created by his own broken mind as a means of escaping his harsh reality.
This particular street, he vaguely recalled, was where the Leaky Cauldron had once stood. His trained eye sought the building out automatically, but he needn't have bothered. The dilapidated building was just as destroyed and abandoned as the other muggle ones around it. Tom and the others were long gone, either dead or alive, Draco could never be sure. Either way, he'd never be able to buy another drink there.
He couldn't bring himself to go into Diagon Alley. Even after seven years, he still couldn't find the courage to look upon the remains of Fourish and Blotts, Madam Malkins, Ollivanders, and Gringotts Bank. Most of them had gone out of business during the War, but it was one thing to see the buildings out of business, and another to see them destroyed entirely.
Draco sighed and forced his legs to keep walking. Being out in the open like this was dangerous for more reasons than one. Desperate people would try to mug him, yes, but he could fight them off. Despite his skinny, muscle-less frame, he was still bigger than most, and his years as a trained Death Eater weren't for nothing. But no matter how hard he tried, he was always unable to venture outside without seeing a dead body.
They were almost as common as the trash littering the dirty streets. Most were murder victims, killed over something as small as a crumb, but some were the unfortunate victims of starvation, dehydration, or exposure. The temperature never rose more than fifty degrees anymore, and that was on a good day.
Draco almost blanched as he came upon a body near the entrance of a dark alley. The man didn't look any older than Draco. His ribs were clearly visible through his flesh since someone had stolen the shirt off his back. His skin was pale. His face was as white as a sheet. His cheeks were sunken in and his open, unseeing eyes were dark with deep circles underneath him. He looked more skeleton than man. Draco wished he could still use his wand to conjure up a blanket or something to cover him up, but magic no longer worked in this apocalyptic world. All he could do was walk by it and hope the same thing wouldn't eventually happen to him.
The former Death Eater was about to keep walking when a small movement further down the alley caught his eye. His head turned in the direction he'd seen the move, but all he saw were shadows. He swallowed, hating how nervous he felt. It was probably just a gang of feral kids, waiting for their next victim. Most of them liked to hide in alleys like this one, as out of sight as they could manage. Draco knew he should keep walking, but something stopped him.
The alley was still for a moment longer, but then he caught the movement again. This time he was able to see a little better, and he noticed the rough outline of a small silhouette towards the back of the alley. A tiny cough followed, and it was the sound of that cough that prevented him from moving.
Though it was impossible to know for sure, the cough sounded female. Draco couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a woman alone in a deserted alley. In his experience that only led to trouble. He'd had plenty of unwilling girls during his time as Death Eater, most of them mudblood slaves, but ever since the asteroid it became common to see a group of boys or men corner an unsuspecting woman or girl. Draco never participated, but his ears hurt with the desperate cries of those girls begging him to help as he walked by. It was better not to get involved. It increased his life expectancy. He knew was no gentleman for thinking that way, and there were days he hated himself for it, but it was just the way it was.
He knew that he should just keep walking now, but there was something about that cough. So sick. So pathetic. So utterly hopeless. Like whoever had made that cough had given up on life and was now just waiting for the inevitable. Against his better judgment, Draco turned and ventured into the alley.
He tried keeping his steps as quiet as possible, but the figure at the back of the alley let out a frightened whimper. He knew he'd been spotted.
"Hey," Draco called out, as gently as he could. "I'm not going to hurt you."
No answer.
Draco took another cautious step forward. The figure moved as he did, emerging from the large box she hid behind, to crawl back as far as she could. Draco watched as her back hit the wall hard, and she let out another whimper. Her long, tangled dark hair hid her face from view, but Draco could tell she was young. Not too much older than he was. Her body, though frail and emaciated, still held the curves and breasts as that of a woman, and Draco felt relief that he wasn't scaring some poor, frightened child.
"Please," Draco tried again. "I won't hurt you. I just want to help you."
Why? He thought to himself. Why do you want to help her? You have yourself to think about.
And while it was true, he just couldn't walk away from this girl who looked like she could, quite literally, die of fright.
The girl didn't move. She raised her legs so that her knees rested just below her chin, and she buried her face in them, wrapping her frail arms around her legs, curling herself up into a protective ball. As she began to cry, Draco noticed that she also started shivering, and he knew it was from more than the cold.
"Um...miss?" God, he hated how hard she was making this. "Do you need some help? I don't have any food, but maybe I can find some..." He trailed off. He was rambling like an idiot. This girl didn't need that. She needed someone to help her, since it was clear she either couldn't or wouldn't do it for herself.
"Okay...just...don't take this the wrong way or anything, but I'm going to take you home with me. Just hold on." Silently berating himself for what he was about to do, he stepped up to the trembling girl, who no longer made a move to back away from him, and bent down to scoop her up in his arms.
She immediately tensed when his hands touched her. She whimpered again but didn't struggle. Draco didn't know whether to take that as a good or bad thing. As soon as she realized that she was in his arms she seemed to simply resign herself to her fate.
Draco didn't bother saying anything else to her as he turned back around to leave the alley. The place was filthy and crawling with rats. He had no idea how long this girl had been hiding out in here. He just hoped it hadn't been long.
As he neared the entrance to the alley he pressed himself against the cold wall of the building on his right and peered around the corner to make sure there was no one else around. He'd be able to fight off an attacker, but not with a person in his arms.
The coast seemed to be clear, so Draco took a deep breath and hurried out of the alley and began running in the direction he'd come from. The girl made no more sounds. It was impossible to tell if she was awake or asleep. Her arms hung limply and she made no effort to steady herself when he fumbled with her more than once. Draco grunted with her weight, which seemed to increase with each step he took. She was light and didn't weigh nearly as much as she should, but she was still a fully grown human and it was difficult to run, take in his surroundings, and carry her to safety at the same time.
Draco couldn't help but thank whatever god was up there when he came upon his small house. They hadn't been disturbed at all, which was quite uncommon. Usually Draco had to kick at least one bum away from him. Maybe the girl in his arms scared them off. Whatever the reason, he wasn't about to question it.
He grunted again as he fought climb up the three steps leading to his porch. He swore under his breath when he realized that his key was inside the pocket of his ratty jeans. He would either have to shift the girl to one arm to get to them, or put her on the ground. It wasn't really a choice. He struggled with her since she made absolutely no move to help him, but finally managed to put her in a less than dignified position with her upper half over his shoulder. He kept his left arm on the backs of her upper legs to steady her as he rummaged through his pocket for his key. After a few minutes of more cursing, the door opened.
Draco quickly deposited the girl on his sofa in the small living room. He noticed immediately that she wasn't sleeping. Her eyes were wide open as they stared into his. He was taken aback by the sheer beauty of them. They were dark and wide, and eerily familiar. The sight of them sent a shiver of shock down his spine. He knew those eyes. Surely it couldn't be...
The girl seemed to have similar feelings toward him. The moment she got a good look at his face her entire body began trembling again in fear and her eyes, if possible, widened even further, and she began muttering the first coherent word he'd heard from her so far.
"No. No, no, no, nononono..." She struggled to sit up, and began scooting to the edge of the sofa, as far away from Draco as she could. Her rag of a shirt rode up as she did, exposing her stomach and torso. Draco's own eyes widened in both horror and recognition as he took in the all too familiar mark on the lower right of her abdomen.
A small replica of the Dark Mark had been branded into her otherwise flawless flesh, with the world mudblood underneath. The mark of a slave, back when the Dark Lord was still in power.
Draco knew he was being rude by staring, but it had been so long since he'd seen that mark that he'd almost forgotten about it. He hadn't seen a mudblood since the asteroid came down. Not that many people were willing to show their bare stomachs to him as he passed. It had been so long since he'd seen any sign of other witches and wizards that he'd convinced himself that he was the only one left. Seeing evidence of a witch, mudblood as she was, shook him. But there was something there besides that. He still couldn't let go of the familiar feeling this girl brought him. He'd seen her somewhere before. But where..?
And then it hit him. Like a ton of bricks to the back of the head. He took a step back from the suddenness of it, and for a moment he thought he might faint. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. And yet, now that he took a deeper look at her, he knew instantly that it was true. This wasn't just any Mudblood that he'd taken into his home.
This cowering girl, this Mudblood slave, was Hermione Granger.