A/N: I don't own Harry Potter
This is for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Sci fi September
Someone believes they're the last person on Earth. Until...
Word count: 684
Hermione watched the bright light in the sky grow bigger each night. Her tribe had made their homes in the caves next to the waterfall. It was here that she'd learned as much about the world around her as she could. Every night the light grew brighter and brighter. Hermione had taken to sitting on the stones on top of the waterfall to watch it.
She was sitting there tonight, tonight it was so bright it was nearly blinding. Suddenly it came closer and closer, striking the ground somewhere. The ground shook causing Hermione to lose her balance and fall into the water. She gasped, clawing at the water, trying frantically to find the surface. When she finally did, she wished with all her heart that she hadn't.
The world was on fire. The caves her tribe, her family had lived in were nothing more than piles of rubble. Tears spilled down her eyes as she searched frantically for a survivor. Nothing. There wasn't enough of any one to even hope. She fell to her knees cursing the great sky for destroying her whole life. That night, the world burned as Hermione howled.
It had been three Winters since the great rocks had fallen from the sky destroying everything. Hermione had rebuilt her life, alone. There was no one else. No one answered the fire circles she made. No one hunted the paths where there had once been an abundance of prey. There wasn't even much to hunt any more.
Everything was gone. Everything was changing. Since that night, she'd noticed it was warmer and warmer. Since that night, she'd noticed the mammoths were no longer plentiful, not that she herself could bring one down. She'd become a woman last year, she should have been finding a mate, starting her own tribe. She'd walked the paths searching for any life signs. There was nothing. She was completely alone.
Hermione started the fire as she always did, after a long day of traveling. She had hoped that once she got outside the valley she'd once called home, there would be more signs of life. Instead, it was a vast barren wasteland. Nothing grew that she recognized. She'd learned which plants were food the hard way, making herself sick several times.
She'd given up hope on finding anyone else. She pulled her pelt over her, hiding her scent slightly. She looked up at the sky, tears filling her eyes, as she counted the stars. The stars that seemed to be disappearing one by one each night. Each night it seemed the night was darker and darker.
She had nearly fallen asleep, when a bright light flood her eyes. They flew open and she saw it in the distance. A fire! There was a fire! She felt herself nearly crying in joy, in fear, in emotions she couldn't even begin to comprehend. She climbed to her feet, nearly tripping over her pelts. She pulled her boots tight and headed towards the fire, wondering why she'd never seen it before tonight.
The journey was long, taking yet another Winter, but finally, Hermione started seeing footsteps. She started seeing signs of the hunt. Her chest nearly exploded with joy when she finally reached the camp.
There was a structure made of wood and skin. There was a small fire with a split of something small roasting. She sat at the entrance to the camp, to show she wasn't a thief, to show she was peaceful. Finally, a man emerged from the structure.
Hermione stared at him. He was unlike any man she'd seen before. He had dark hair with pale skin. He was wearing a black pelt and had a nose like that of a large prey bird. He looked at her, at her curly hair, at her brown doe pelt, at the hopeful look in her brown eyes.
He walked over to the fire, picked up the split and walked over to her. He sat down next to her, offering her half. She took it, agreeing to everything he had to offer with one bite, no longer alone.