(Hermione and Draco take on the zombie apocalypse) It's been five years since Harry, Hermione and Ron left Hogwarts.
Hermione, now twenty-two and engaged to Ron, prides herself in her intelligence. All her life, Hermione has always needed to kno...
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Draco cursed profusely under his breath, knowing he had cast a wordless muffliato charm on the room as he had locked it, hoping he could muffle any sounds they made as the four wizards and witches settled into the room.
The monsters had come anyway.
Their gurgling breaths on the other side of the door coalesced into a loud hiss, the combined sound of their hungry voices reaching them through the thick wood. Fear was pounding heavy in Draco's chest, his eyes darting around the room desperately for something to get him out of there.
Draco looked to Granger as she held a bleeding Parkinson in her arms, the young woman's whimpers sounding like loud screams throughout the room as they grated on his nerves. She needed to be quiet. Whatever spell he had cast to disguise their presence in the room hadn't worked, and the injured woman with his whimpers and moans was just making it worse.
He gritted his teeth. If he could make it out of there alive, keeping the intelligent Gryffindor witch would likely be an advantage. Even now, as he felt himself losing control over his wild emotions on the inside, he could see a calmness descend on her face, a cool calculation in her eyes as she carefully inspected the room. Her courage and her experience in deadly and horrific situations from the war had only made her stronger.
He found himself respecting -- and perhaps somewhat envious of that, in that moment.
Blaise Zabini, now, the blubbering fool – he could probably do without his antics. He had never really liked the narcissistic bloke that much anyway. Blaise's eyes were darting around the dim room, the lights flickering slightly. The wizard was ever the sheltered pureblood, Blaise hadn't seen the true effects of the war, nor had it really impacted his family like it had Draco's.
"She-she's been bit!" Zabini exclaimed, his shaky arm pointed at Parkinson where she was shivering in pain on the floor, her blood collecting under the two witches. "The damn monster's bit her!"
Hermione, looked down to inspect the wound, her features pulled into a grim line. "I'm not sure how to fix it." The witch looked down at Pansy's legs, muttering a few healing spells. None of them to any effect.
Draco's stomach sank with dread. He knew Granger's spells had been perfectly cast. Magic would not work in healing Pansy's injuries. By the minute, she was getting paler and paler, her blood seeping out from her to spread across the hardwood to the nearby carpet.
The bloody witch was probably drawing them all to her. Maybe they could smell her blood. Draco cursed. Even if Parkinson had been a lifelong acquaintance to him, right then she was nothing more than a liability. Granger just had to go back and save her, the little do-good witch unable to prioritize her own survival.
Draco, ever the Malfoy, would always put his own life first. Right then Pansy was only going to get them all killed – one way or another.
"Granger, get back from her," Draco said softly, watching as the witch started to lose consciousness. The impact of her injury was affecting her faster than others. An important artery had likely been damaged.
