A/N: The following drabble is an alternate not-so-happy ending to The Killing Curse. As far as the author is concerned, this is NOT canon. It's just a little bit of darkness for anyone who got a cavity from how sickly sweet the real epilogue was. And for those who still crave darkness, I recommend my new drabble, "100 Times." Thanks!

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS A SAD ENDING; PROCEED WITH CAUTION; THERE IS NO LIFEGUARD ON DUTY; READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Dying wasn't at all like what Draco expected. It wasn't cold, dark, or lonely. When the familiar flash of green light erupted from Voldemort's wand, Draco braced for the worst.

Instead of darkness, he felt warm all over, like he was wrapped in the loving embrace of his mother after a nightmare as a child.

Instead of his life flashing before his eyes, and all of the mistakes and errors that had led him to this point, an alternate reality played out in his mind. One in which the Dark Lord had not seen through his dim-witted plan to save Hermione Granger. One in which he had actually managed to get her out of the Manor. One in which light had conquered over dark, and the love of his life had grown to love him back.

When he reached the afterlife, she was already there, waiting for him, with a glorious smile lighting up her face. She held out her hand for him, and he took it without question, though he was confused.

She explained to him what she had seen when he'd cast the Killing Curse at her, how she understood in that moment what he had attempted to do. She'd been unconscious when Voldemort had finished the job for him, and she thanked him for allowing her peace in that moment. She was grateful that his face was the last she saw before she died.

"But what about Potter? And the others?"

Her smile grew sad then, and she cast her eyes downward. Hermione chewed on her lower lip as she attempted to formulate an answer, and Draco could hear the gears in her mind churning to find an appropriate one. "They'll manage without us," she said, and he realized that though the version of reality he'd seen as he died had been a good one, Harry Potter was destined to win the battle against Tom Riddle — one way or the other it would happen, with or without them.

"What do we do now?" he asked timidly, staring at her and willing her to meet his gaze once more.

She entwined their fingers together and squeezed his hand softly. "We get to know each other like we would've had things been different during our life, and we wait for the others to join us when it's their time."