Author's note: Wow. I don't know what to say guys. Last man on Earth is one of my favorite shows, and my bff told me it would be a funny Harry Potter style story. So yeah. This happened. Apologies to everyone following Windows to the soul (my Romione wip) i am coming for it. I have someone who volunteered to beta it, and i'm trying to figure out how to make that happen for you guys to get a better story out of it. In the meantime here's this.
~Chapter 1: You are now leaving the Ministry of magic~
'You are now leaving the ministry of magic.' Draco scowled as he read the words to himself. Again.
The sign was a rather hideous shade of green.
Draco stopped himself. Be positive. Think positive.
He tried very hard to remain positive when he could. Looking on the bright side often got him through his days.
Everything was already so dreadfully negative. Food was hard to come by. Which you could summon it but it always tasted off to Draco somehow. Money no longer mattered as there wasn't anyone to pay for anything anymore. Draco even longed for the times people had run from him in the streets because at least there had been people then.
Draco forced himself to find the positives even when it seemed there were none. Food scarcity? Perfect opportunity for Draco to branch out his food pallet. He had tried eating a bug recently, and it hadn't even been half as bad as he thought it would be. No currency? Well money was the root of all evil, no big loss there. No people? Perfect chance for Draco to get to know himself, and even work on himself. Pansy told him he was an arrogant ass once, he felt he should work on that even if she was dead now. No better time for self improvement than the end of the world after all.
He read the sign again and this time he was able to comment that the shade of green reminded him of the mints his Grandmother used to keep in her purse. He had liked his grandmother. There positive.
Everytime he had to read the sign though Draco would again be reminded of the bleak reality he was facing.
Draco Malfoy had spent the last 3 months of his life coming and going from the ministry of magic. There were no longer any wards or protections to keep him out or anyone around for that matter. The magic in the building was just gone from what he gathered. Each day here it was the exactly the same. He would muck about the ministry. Looking for anything he perhaps may have missed so far. Loose notes, books, case files whatever he thought may help on his current quest.
Maybe he thought at the start of coming to the ministry, if he could figure out more about the virus then he could reverse it... though after arriving to the ministry all those times- and not once finding another living soul... It finally dawned on Draco as he stared at the sign, reversing the virus was pointless now. Wasn't it? What would be the point now that everyone else was clearly dead and gone.
Fuck positivity in the ass.
Draco grabbed the bucket that was kept near the exit for umbrellas, and he hurled it at the stupid fucking ugly green fucking sign. The umbrellas smashed into it violently enough the sign was torn clean off the hinges, and it clattered to the marbled flooring.
3 months. 3 months of his life Draco had spent here in waste, hoping to find something of use, or if he was being honest he really had hoped for someone not something.
If there was anyone left this was where Draco expected he would find them. The ministry of magic had to be the place people would seek safety right?
That thought just drove it further home that everyone really was dead.
Draco screamed at no one.
Draco had seen some die of the virus. It was dreadful. Quick though, but was that good or bad? Totally debatable.
His own mother in fact had fallen to the virus. At that point in the war Voldemort was still going strong, and the thought of the virus killing his own people hadn't occurred to him until the day Narcissa fainted.
Lucius had informed Draco with a grim frown what was wrong with his mother, and then she'd been quarantined to a part the manor no one was allowed to go to but the house elves. Voldemort was worried it would catch more of them, and he was right to be because it did eventually.
For days as she got sicker Draco had crept off quietly to keep her company at night. He hadn't cared if he ended up sick. He wanted death at that time. If his mother were gone, what did he have to live for anyhow? He read to her, and held her. Then one night he snuck into her room to find Lucius there. The house elves had already buried her it seemed. Voldemort had wanted her in the ground as soon as possible.
Lucuis coughed. Draco knew probably Lucius had been doing what he had. Keeping Narcissa company in secret. Draco also knew Lucius looked very sick in that moment.
"We're all fucked you know." Lucius told him plainly. "This virus- it's going to end it all not just the Order."
Lucius had refused to tell Draco anything about the virus up to that point and Draco had asked him adamantly. He knew his father would clam up if he said the wrong thing so he thought carefully on what he wanted to ask.
"Voldemort created it, right?" That was the rumor at least.
Lucius scoffed. "He wishes." Draco nodded.
"It was designed to kill off the mudbloods?"
Then Lucius nodded. "It mutated though. At first it hit the muggles and mudbloods but now-" He looked back around the bed Narcissa's body had grown cold in. "Now- it's coming for us all."
Draco never saw Lucius die. One day he slipped away from the manor and never returned. It reminded Draco of the cat he had growing up. Something instinctual made it know it was going to die, and it left to be alone when it did. Hiding ones weakness all the way to the end was instinctual Draco supposed. Because many of the other death eaters stationed at the manor did exactly the same thing after Lucius left.
Finally it was only Draco and Voldemort left at the manor. War meetings were no longer held, and Draco realized he hadn't any reason to stay. Voldemort was certainly to weak to stop him. No winner had been declared in the war because there wasn't anyone left to fight. Draco assumed Potter had probably long dwindled away- the prophet had not reported on him in weeks. So assuming the worst was easy.
When Voldemort himself came down with the virus, Draco had made the executive decision not to stick around long enough to see where that went. Draco filled his bags with family heirlooms, and left Voldemort to his own devices. The house elves would likely care for him until he died or until they died. Whichever came first and Draco didn't feel bad about it. The maniac caused this to all of them hadn't he? Well then Draco was fine to leave him to rot alone.
After he left the manor he flew around Brittain for a while. Different places each week. Looking for people or food. He read the papers for updates maybe someone would find that cure everyone gossiped about?
Things were getting stranger quickly. He knew the population was dropping but he didn't realize how fast. Draco would walk into grocery stores with the lights still on and no one would be working. He left money at the til just the same. Days passed and then the same grocery stores were now obviously abandoned. The fruits had rotted in the produce section and mice ran down the aisles freely.
Draco slept in homes of people he guessed either died via virus or who had made a run for it hoping to isolate themselves from possible infection. Draco knew that was pointless though. Voldemort had tried that. Tried to seclude himself but still eventually it found him.
Then the daily prophet stopped printing one day. Whether it was because the writers or the sellers dying Draco didn't know.
Seeing people was becoming a rarity. Even when he saw people they ran through. Could have been the fear of the virus but also probably recognition of who he was. His family supported the man who destroyed the world. Draco would probably run from himself to. If he could.
Then Draco remembered the ministry. He believed people might go there so he headed on to it, with positivity that he might meet another survivor.
At one point Draco made a map of all the places he had checked for survivors and failed to locate them. He pulled it out of his pocket while standing over the ministry sign on the floor. He stared at it. It was adorned with big red 'x' marks. Brisbaine- x. London- x. New York- x. Ireland-x. Draco was running out of places to look, and why should he bother with anymore? It was pointless. He crumbled the map in his hands and tossed it down onto the sign like garbage. He stepped over the mess of umbrellas quite knowing he would never come back to the ministry of magic.
Right as he got to the threshold of the exit however. Something made him turn back around.
"Fucking merlin- bullocks- fuck!" He said to no one but himself. He was allowing himself to hope against his best judgement. It was one thing to take a positive spin on things but actually hoping for something good that was different. It made Draco feel vulnerable. He hated it. He raised his wand and put the sign back in place along with the umbrellas.
It was a pointless idea he just had. Rationally he knew that. Even so he set the sign back to rights on its hinges, and with his wand over top of it he wrote his own statement.
Burnt deep into the metal the words on the top now read 'Alive in Hogwarts.'
There he thought sourly. Now that tiny conscience of his could shut up. Now- if someone was alive (which was very unlikely) and if they came to the ministry of magic (also highly unlikely) they would see Draco's sign and know where to find him.
Draco could have gone back to the manor but he didn't for 2 reasons. 1 there was nothing he wanted to do less than move the corpse of Voldemort around. 2 if he was the last man on earth he was certainly allowed to live in style wasn't he? So why shouldn't Draco call home to Hogwarts? What a waste it would be to let Hogwarts sit and rot. Not to mention it housed everything in a single place he could likely want. Bath tubs the size of swimming pools, his own quidditch pitch, his choice of any room in the castle, and quite a fine view of the grounds. Even if there weren't house elves left Draco would make use of the kitchens. He learned in his youth that the kitchens could spell up any sort of food one may desire. Who cared if he didn't know how it bloody worked.
As Draco made way to Hogwarts a thought occurred to him that hadn't before. Ghosts. The ghosts would still be there wouldn't they? Conversation? Oh how he had missed conversation! Things were looking up. When he flung open the castle doors it had been with a wide smile.
"Hello!" He called inside, but nothing but an echo came to him. The entire entryway was dark. No magic had lingered to keep it lit. His smile slowly fell away as he explored further. Hogwarts had gone cold, and the magic had left it. Just like the ministry.
No ghosts were to be found hovering in the corridors, and Draco also found the kitchens no longer worked as they once did.
"It's allright." He consoled himself later that night. "I can make this work." Think positively. He could keep himself company.
So the next day he found a stack of old missives in Mcgonagall's office and enchanted them into tiny figurine people from his life. There were versions of his parents, his mother blew kisses at him. Then he made one of his godfather Snape who sneered at Draco and the other figures. Draco added more to his collection as the days went on. He found the longer he had enchanted them the more sentiment they seemed to get. He had whole conversations with his father about things Draco had no knowledge of and it made Draco wonder how the sentience of the being surpassed his own awareness. He found the tiny Lucius to be every bit as arrogant as his real father though. It still evaded questions Draco had, and even refused to speak to Draco when it felt he had slighted him in some way. It made Draco wonder if all his paper figures were reflective of the real person because Draco wasn't sure. He was starting to forget some of them. It was difficult to recall his life when people had been around.
Draco created Crabbe and Goyle, but wished he hadn't when the things found a left over chocolate frog on the ground and devoured it so completely they blew their little paper bellies up.
Draco additionally made the golden trio but out of spite he kept them in a secret box away from the other figures. 'See how you like being denied friendship.' The little Harry would often flick him off, and Draco finally decided to make a tiny version of himself. To show Potter a thing or two.
Draco smirked as he watched his tiny self approach the trio. He contained a laugh waiting for his small self to punch Potter or maybe kick him. Draco was quite surprised to watch his tiny self march past Potter and instead lay a thick kiss squarely on Granger's lips. Even though no one was there to witness the embarrassment Draco covered his face.
Somedays Draco had himself convinced he didn't miss people. Especially not Harry Potter and his lot, but also some days Draco had to admit his situation was the absolute craps.
What Draco wouldn't give for a woman any woman- even Granger! Draco spent many of his evenings jacking off into the same small 4 poster bed he grew up sleeping in the Slytherin dorms as a child. He was so lonely it made him ache.
Draco rounded up the tiny minis and stuffed them in their box except his mini self. He would bet money his tiny self would be thrilled to be in the box with Granger but if the real Draco couldn't get any, then the tiny fake Draco couldn't either.
Amusing himself was about the only thing worth living for at this point Draco thought.
While back at Hogwarts he summoned his food- where it came from who knew- he learned how to keep the parts of the castle he used lit longterm with magic thanks to the books in the library. He studiously continued research into magical viruses though it was pointless but it gave him something to do.
Entertaining himself was important to his mental health he knew that. He knew sitting around would be bad for him so he pushed himself. To do whatever as long as it was something.
Draco had even summoned several brooms from the cupboard and taken them to the pitch the night before, and dressed them in Gryffindor uniforms and wigs. Then he used his wand to set them all alight. It had been pretty thrilling even if tiny Potter disapproved of the burning of his old jersey.
Sometimes Draco let the figures accompany him to the different parts of the castle. Especially he liked them in the mornings at breakfast. It made him feel nostalgic and like life had never taken that terrible left turn.
Amusing himself was increasingly getting harder as time passed he had to admit. At first flying around the quidditch pitch had been bracing and thrilling but now its charm was beginning to dwindle as all other aspects of amusement were.
Now Draco sat in Dumbledore's office contemplating this new world and his new life as he had been doing for some time now. His fingers each had what the bag he summoned earlier called 'bugles'. On his head was the sorting hat, now magic-less and nothing more than a pile of fabric. It made him feel childish but who cared? He was living for these small moments of amusement and so amused he was going to make himself.
Tiny Harry had climbed up the window sil and put an even tinier hand up to the glass with a forlorn sad sort of look. Draco appraised him around the window as he chomped off one of his witch fingers.
Tiny Harry tapped at the glass. "Could we go out there, to?"
"Sorry little fella," Draco truly was for he had come to quite like this version of Harry Potter he had conjured up. Small, soft spoken, and this Potter even had manners. Maybe he misjudged the real Potter. "It's raining buckets out there and you are- as you know made entirely of paper."
Tiny Harry enjoyed it when Draco took him for a ride on the quidditch pitch, and Draco enjoyed it to. He knew trivia about players Draco hadn't known of, and it always made for nice conversation.
Draco chomped off another witch finger and it was saltier than he cared for but this snack was more about the experience he felt than the nutritional value. It was rather like eating cardboard and salt. He put his legs up on Dumbledore's desk and the old phoenix cage was knocked to far to the side and, it split in half when it hit the ground. Draco shrugged and didn't bother with a reparro.
Tiny Harry looked back out the window with a look of confusion. "Then why can he?"
Then it registered what tiny Harry asked before. 'Could we got out there, to?'
Draco spat the mouthful of salty cardboard out. "WHO- HE- WHO HE?"
He practically flew out of his chair to get across the room. Draco tripped over the stupid bird cage on his way over to the window. He kicked it, and scrambled to pull himself up where tiny Harry was looking out the window. The sorting hat was barely hanging around his head, and he had smashed some of his chips trying to pull himself up. He smushed his face up against the glass, but it was fogged. He used his robe sleeve to clear it, but no one was there.
Draco looked at tiny Harry for an explanation.
"Me. The other me." Tiny Harry said. "He was just there a moment ago. Why can he be out in the rain if i can't?" He crossed his tiny paper arms.
"The other you isn't- wasn't made of paper, he was real like me but-that isn't possible that you saw him just now. The other you died." Draco patted his side looking for his wand, he found it in his back pocket. "They all died." Draco reminded himself.
Everyone was dead. Draco spent years searching for any sign of life anywhere and he never found so much as a fucking fish. Harry Potter couldn't just rise up from the dead on a random day all that time later...could he?
Tiny Harry insisted though. He adamantly told Draco again he had seen himself. He even described him. Dirty, dark ungodly hair, with a blue hoodie and backpack, and Draco had to admit it sounded like Potter...
A roll of thunder shook the castle. Draco gulped.
Draco began to think back. Damn it. What was the last the prophet reported of Potter exactly? Draco couldn't recall much just that Potter stopped being seen or reported on, and so everyone just assumed him dead- but what if he hadn't actually died?
What if all these years Potter had been doing what Draco had? Searching the world for another living person.
Draco had to go check it out right? He'd never sleep tonight between the storm and wondering if somehow Harry Potter was outside wandering about the castle as he slept.
"Come on." Draco put his hand out for tiny Harry who climbed on and managed to avoid the bugles that were still on his fingers. Draco deposited him in the front pocket of his dress robes so he could ride along. "We can go have a look, i'm sure it's nothing though. I'm being silly entertaining this."
Tiny Harry rolled his eyes. "I know what i saw." Draco thought he heard him mutter.
So that's how Draco came to be roving the corridors with the sorting hat on his head, bugles adorning his fingers, and a tiny Harry Potter in his front robe pocket while it was pouring cats and dogs outside.
Perhaps he had locked himself in the school for too long. Was he loosing it? Had the lack of actual socialization strangled the last of his sanity?
Draco pulled his- Dumbledore's elegant purple robes tighter around himself.
"Lumos."
He was just coming up near the entrance hall, and maybe he imagined it but it felt draftier there for some reason. The stairs were there still with trash Draco left on them. The pool Draco had set up with chocolate pudding he summoned weeks ago was growing mold but it was still there. There were stray bits of food he conjured, along with pop cans scattered about. The discarded mountain of chocolate frog wrappers caught Draco's eye though. Was he insane or did it look more lopsided than he last saw it?
No, he was probably more likely just paranoid. As if someone would break into Hogwarts to go through Draco's trash. Draco shook his head, and laughed.
"I'm such an idiot." He let a piece paper convince him Harry Potter was bloody prowling about.
Draco was about to head to the dorm room when he heard the ancient creaking from behind. The wind blew open the front doors until they were just slightly ajar. The rain water filtered in and quickly a puddle began to form as Draco watched.
"Told you." Tiny Harry declared triumphant and Draco resisted the urge to toss him into the puddle.
"That doesn't mean anything." Draco willed himself to believe, but it did mean something because Draco had locked the front door actually. Not just the bolt but with enchantments. Enchantments Draco was now seeing in shredded sparkling bits across the floor. Like they'd been blasted-with magic.
Draco took deep sobering breaths as he let it all fall together.
"Oh my fucking- merlin." Draco choked out.
Then the voice of an angel came from around the corner. "Harry- that you?" It was soft but bold, and Draco hadn't heard it in years but he knew it almost immediately. "I think perhaps someone's still living here. We'll have to find Ron and maybe come back tomorrow when the weather isn't so-"
Then she was standing in front of Draco in all her Gryffindor glory. Her hair was longer than he ever recalled her wearing it. Her left cheek sported a nasty scar, but merlin was she beautiful.
A woman. A living breathing woman here with Draco. He even knew her to! Oh what luck!
Draco's socially stunted brain had no way to know what to do next so he tried to walk down the stairs to her but instead tripped on the to fucking long robe. He went head over heels and heard her yelp in shock at the display.
When he came to a complete stop he jumped right back up to try and play it off though it had hurt something terrible.
"Well helllllo there Granger." He tried to purr but instead it came out garbly and wet and he realized he knocked out his front tooth. He spat it into his hand going for nonchalance, and with his other hand smoothed back his hair.
That only directed Granger's attention to the bugles still on his fingers. Her eyes bulged wide. "Is that- um- the sorting hat?" Her eyes drifted up to his head. "-and Dumbledore's..."
Draco chuckled lowly cause it was sort of in a really fucked up way funny. "Look i know how this might look," Draco began hands up and pleading. "i'm not crazy. I swear it's just that..."
Then something clicked for Granger because she snatched the sorting hat right off his head. Her eyes narrowed.
"You said Potter was around?" Draco looked round for the boy who just wouldn't fucking die.
"Malfoy." Granger said colder than he would care for but then- actually yeah nah that made sense. The whole end of the world thing had Malfoy forgetting that though they did know each other their relationship wasn't what he would call pleasant. Or at least he thinks. It's been so long ago now it was often hard for Draco to recall certain people and places. He's nearly convinced himself tiny Harry was exactly the same wizard as the real one. Draco and Granger didn't like each other back then but who's to say they couldn't get on well enough now.
There we are positivity.
He had asked for any woman at all after all...
"Yeah Harry's here." Draco was fine with that the more the merrier and maybe even Potter would turn out as pleasant as his mini version after all these years. Draco had to admit though he might quite like to be alone with Granger sometimes for- no. No. Intrusive thoughts were the worst. He shook himself.
"Wonderful." Draco cried jubilantly.
"How in the hell did you manage to make it all this time?" She tossed the sorting hat off to the side and drew her wand.
Oof. Bad. Really bad way to reunite.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He told Granger but she looked at him with that 'I wasn't born yesterday' look. "I can explain."
Then another voice came round.
"Here." Granger called to it.
Then Ron Weasley was staring back at them nothing with his bottom jaw open wide. "Of all the people alive. The ferret, Hermione? The ferret made it!" Ron sniggered. "Is he missing a tooth?"
Draco decidedly didn't shoot him a dirty look since the situation was already poor. "Nice to see you to Weasley."
Then Weasley really gave him a once over and Draco blushed. "What in merlin's beard are you wearing?" Weasley grunted out a scoffed sort of sound.
As he and Granger devolved into a fit of laughter and 'I know right? He looks deranged?' Draco spotted the green cardboard in Weasley's hand.
"That's my chocolate frog card, Weasley."
Weasley pocketed it. "Finders keepers Malfoy." He said with his shit eating grin, and then Draco in the first 5 minutes of seeing a human being in years quite began to wish them all dead again.
It would be them that lived. Draco began to think crossly. No one else could so thoroughly torment him as they.
Now he remembered perfectly clearly. The golden trio was a bunch of ass hats led by the biggest of them all.
St. Potter.
"Mmmhhmm." Draco nodded his head mostly to himself. It was karma coming home to him even at the very end of the world. "Wonderful."
Then a muffled sort of yell came from his front pocket and Granger and Weasley were eyeing him with anewed interest.
"What've you got in there, Malfoy?" Weasley asked already approaching.
Draco swirled around. "Nothing." He meant to walk backwards a bit but he hit a brick wall. "You lot can have the castle i'll just bugger off."
"Not so fast." The brick wall said, only it was actually St. Potter.
Potter reached in Draco's pocket before he could protest.
The looks ranged from confused to disgust when they pulled the tiny paper Harry out of his robe pocket. On his tumble down the stairs Draco had crushed the poor thing and it was wailing in it's enchanted misery of pain. Potter muttered a finite, and stared hard at Draco.
"Well." He prodded Draco for an explanation. "I can't wait to hear an explanation for whatever that thing was."
Draco sighed.
How could he turn this, into a positive?