Chapter 2

Draco wasn't sure what proper was anymore. Everything just seemed a little improper these days, be it how they spent their first night in the Shrieking Shack, or how they had gotten their first meal as survivors of the apocalypse. But any way you put it, leaving Severus' body there to rot just hadn't seemed proper.

So, Draco had carried the man outside, dark and cold as it was, and had buried him properly. The others hadn't attended the mock funeral, as they were looking after the wounded Harry and Ginny and it just seemed like Draco needed a moment alone with the dead professor. According to Hermione, anyway.

Draco kneeled before the grave, pulling up dead grass. He felt empty. Like the last bit of himself was gone. He knew his parents were dead. And now so was his godfather. His mentor. His guardian. What was he supposed to do now? He had no one in the world. He didn't have to guess what the other's thought of him. Sure, they were being civil, but only because they were all in this mess together. And seeing as they were the only survivors of the magical world, perhaps even of the entire world, it just wouldn't do to murder each other because of some petty school rivalries.

Draco allowed the tears to fall as he raised his face to the starry sky. It just seemed too bright. Too beautiful for the night after the war. Too perfect to be the dusk before the dawn the day after the apocalypse.

Draco's heavy mind was drawn unwillingly back to what had transpired in the past few months. It had all started with a threat. A simple threat. It hadn't been a realistic threat, everyone had laughed at it, of course being as ludicrous as it had been. But it was the night that Lord Voldemort pulled it off that everyone stopped laughing. He had done it. He had succeeded.

He had won.

Even though he was dead. And Draco proclaimed in the name of any god who would listen that Voldemort was dead. It just wouldn't do for him to have survived. Voldemort himself had known he wouldn't survive. In fact he had counted on it.

He hadn't, however, counted on a few stray survivors. Unless… he had. That's why he left them behind. To finish them off. To destroy anything that was left of the world.

Draco shuddered at the thought, and even at the distance, Draco could hear their foul moaning, their dead droning as the hive mind drove them to slowly wake as dawn drew nearer.

The zombies.

Draco still didn't know how Voldemort had done it. He had figured out that he wouldn't win. Harry was too strong. He had defied Voldemort far too many times, and the Dark Lord had-had enough of it. He had threatened to end the world. To end all life.

And he had been laughed at. Everyone laughed at the Dark Lord. Figured after all those years, he had gone mad trying to beat the unbeatable.

They shouldn't have laughed at him. Maybe he wouldn't have felt so driven to prove them all wrong. And he had done it. He had brought the dead back to life and created the apocalypse. He had started small, on islands that were barely populated. And then the sickness spread, first to the Americas and then to the rest of the world. Draco remembered watching a viral video of a television reporter recording a city in Hong Kong being destroyed by the hungry hoards of moaning corpses. That's how he knew that they were the only survivors. He held hope that there were other groups scattered across the world who had survived. But it was such little hope.

From how it had been progressing, Draco had mapped out that the zombies came to life every other day, and every other night. They had been safe yesterday, and they would be safe tonight. But come dawn… they would need to be on the move again.

"Shit, it's hopeless!" Draco cried, throwing a rock and watching as it clattered down the hill, eventually settling to rest at the bottom. But it had lost part of itself on the journey down. It had broken in half, and one of the halves had crumbled. Draco felt like that damn rock. He felt like he had fallen, and that he had come to rest here at this place of utter hopelessness. And that he had lost half of himself along the way. He just wasn't sure what half he was. The whole piece, or the one that had crumbled.

"Draco, are you okay?"

Draco looked up sharply at the tentative voice to see Hermione carefully moving towards him.

Quickly scrubbing his tear-stained face, Draco turned back to the great lake and watched the stars reflect on it. "Granger." He greeted with a raspy voice that gave him away.

Hermione crouched down beside him, sharing the magnificent view. "Are you okay?" She repeated, hugging her arms as the night chill cut through her ratty old war-tarnished sweater.

Draco was silent for a moment, eyes lingering on the smoke in the distance that was blotting out a few of his favorite stars, including Draco, the famous Dragon. "I'm not sure." He replied honestly, his heart as heavy as his mind.

Hermione sighed. "Draco… I know you probably feel alone right now… but you're not. Whatever rivalries we had in the past, Draco we're willing to put them aside. We need each other."

Draco turned to scowl at her. "What do you know about how I'm feeling? I'm not alone at all, thank you very much. I don't need you. I don't need any of you!"

Hermione's lips thinned. "I'm willing to ignore that incredibly foolish statement because I know you're hurting. Despite what you think, you do need us. And we need you."

Draco scoffed.

"Don't scoff at me! It's true. We're all in this together."

Draco turned to her with a strange glint in his eyes. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why us? Why out of everyone in the world, why are we the only survivors?" He stood up and spread out his arms to the desolate planet around him, turning a slow circle as if to behold the world which was now empty. "Why… just… tell me why…"

Hermione stared up at him as his arms slowly dropped back down to his sides. "I don't know, Draco. I don't hold the key to the world. But… you can help me find it."

Draco glanced down at her, eyebrow raised. "That… sounds…"

"Like an adventure." Hermione offered with a small smile, standing. She hesitated, then gently wiped away the bloody handprint that was still smeared all over his pale face. She opened her mouth to speak, then not yet trusting herself to do so, brushed off his shoulder, which was covered in soot and gravel. When there was nothing left for her to groom, she finally had to stop skiving. "Make sure you come in before dawn… we plan to move out before then." She murmured carefully, avoiding eye contact.

Draco nodded dumbly, not trusting himself to speak without bursting into tears.

Hermione offered him a faltering smile and headed back for the old building. Stopping just at the door, Hermione glanced back at Draco, who had turned back to the lake which lay spread before him like a dark blanket across the dead valley.

"Oh, Draco? I heard you and Ronald talking earlier… and you're right. Ginny's red-headedness definitely will get in the way." With a small smirk, Hermione disappeared into the Shrieking Shack, leaving a blushing Draco to watch the night slowly fade to day.

AN: Sorry I haven't updated in a while... thanks for all your amazing reviews. Let me know what you think should happen next!