Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything that you recognize within this story. All I own is my plot, and hopefully one day I will own Tom Felton too.

Summary: D/Hr…After HBP and the war…even though Voldemort was defeated, the destructive war has created a post-apocalyptic world in which darkness and madness has taken over…there is a small group of survivors who are trying to rebuild their lives, but one pale-faced boy is lost after being banished by Voldemort. His presence is calling to Hermione, but will she reach him in time?

A/N: This is a rather dark story, so mind the R rating. Also, please review!

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Her long fingers twisted through the dark curls that cascaded down her shoulders as she looked in the only mirror she had run across for days now. She allowed her eyes to run over the other objects in the dimly lit hotel room that she had been fortunate to find. A moth-eaten bedspread covered a mattress that was thin enough to feel the rusty bedsprings below it. There was a television, but Hermione knew that she would be lucky if it even turned on. All the stations had stopped playing half-way through the war, when the Muggles had been driven mad by the amount of magic the two sides had used in their life-or-death struggles.

Hermione sighed, and closed her eyes. The loneliness that accompanied her mission was something she would never get used to. It was too risky to send out more than one survivor at a time. One death was better than two. She was gathering supplies for the Colony, the only civilized place left on earth. Built in the London Underground, it was where the survivors of the war lived and attempted to rebuild society.

'Hermione?' The voice in her head sounded tired, as he always did.

'Yes, Harry?'

'I was just making sure you're ok. Have you come across any others?'

Hermione shook her head sadly, and then realized that Harry was unable to see her. 'No. Not this time.' She didn't mention the dreams.

Harry paused before responding, and Hermione knew he was fighting to keep the dismay out of his thought transmissions. 'I didn't think so.'

'There will be more, Harry.'

'I certainly hope so, 'Mione. When do you think you'll be back?'

'Soon, I hope. I've got enough supplies besides food, which is becoming harder and harder to find. We're going to need to come up with a production system of our own soon.'

'I know. We've got people on it. I'd better go, Ginny is trying to call me, report to me soon, ok?'

'I will.' Hermione paused, her isolation seeping through her veins painfully. 'Tell Ginny and Ron hello for me, ok?' As she said Ron's name, pain clutched at her heart.

'Of course. We love you, Hermione.'

With that, the conversation was over and the silence enclosed Hermione once again. She stood up and walked to her window, shuddering as she saw the brightly colored clouds that she had once loved. Now the sunset only brought fear. As the darkness began to consume the sun, the Creatures came out. Hermione clicked her light off. It was too dangerous to call attention to herself.

She laid down on the thin mattress, and ignored the prodding bedsprings as best as she could. She hadn't been able to sleep well since the war started, but she needed all the energy she could get, so she closed her eyes and allowed the horrors that always came before sleep to flash before her eyes.

They walked together across the deserted land. His eyes were the only things that they could see before them. Those awful, red eyes. Harry had destroyed every Horcrux but one – himself. As the Golden Trio marched ahead, Ginny followed unwillingly. Her lover was almost certainly going to die, and Hermione didn't blame her for the tears that were making paths down the girl's dusty cheeks.

The Death Eaters had either died or fled, and Voldemort was alone at last. He wore a snakelike grin on his face, for he thought Harry would never kill himself just to rid the world of him.

But the Prophecy had said only one would die, and it held true. As Harry knelt before Voldemort, a dagger pressed to his heart, Hermione and Ron held their wands out, ready to say the Killing Curse. With a final cry, Harry pressed the dagger deeper. Ginny ran forward with a scream as Ron and Hermione's voices combined and destroyed Voldemort.

As the red eyes dimmed, the ghosts of the ones he had killed rose above them, screaming in primal triumph. The Weasley parents, the numberless children from their school, most of the Order of the Phoenix…the devastation to the light side had been terrible.

Finally, it was quiet once again. The scent of decay lingered in the air, but the only sound was Ginny's soft crying. She leaned down to Harry's still form, and whispered her words of undying love. Suddenly, light began to encircle the two, and Ginny looked down in amazement at her lover, the tears glistening on her face. The dagger shone blue, and she began to pull it out of Harry. A thin, darkly glowing rope followed the dagger as Ginny exorcised Voldemort's presence unwittingly.

The wound healed right then, and Harry's eyes had opened. He and Ginny held each other for what seemed like hours. The war was over, but their troubles were long from it.

Tears spilled from Hermione's eyes as she saw once again the bodies that littered the land. They had found survivors, and their numbers grew, but the destruction was irreversible. They had been forced to retreat underground when the stench above grew to be too strong. They cleared their space of death, and now had a city of their own.

Finally, sleep visited Hermione's troubled mind, but His face came to her again in dreams. She had been seeing it everywhere, in planes of broken glass, desolate pools of water, and especially in the dark crevices of her own mind.

He had silver hair, and a gaunt but stunning face. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and his gray eyes were alive with the desire to live. He wasn't close, that much she knew. He had been banished far away, in a place that only could be accessed by those who were brave enough to venture through the darkest places, physically and mentally.

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His small fire was the only thing that kept the Creatures from emerging out of their shadowed homes. He called out again, not with his voice, but with his thoughts. He felt that somebody was finally sensing him, a girl with pained brown eyes that he held on to the image of for as long as possible before the night that lived inside him stole it away. And then he would reach out again. It was the only way to keep the evil from overcoming him.

Draco had been banished after Voldemort learned of his inability to kill Dumbledore. The Dark Lord had been furious, and had only spared his life because Snape had managed to complete his task. It was as Dumbledore planned, and even though Draco still felt his long-trained resentment towards the old man, he realized what the Headmaster had done to save his pupil's life.

Draco had closed his eyes in front of Voldemort, waiting for the green light to hit him and take away his soul, to kill him. But it never came. Instead, the evil lord had murmured a curse Draco hadn't recognized, and when he opened his eyes, he was here. That had been three years ago. He only ventured from the clearing where he had appeared once, and the memories of the Creatures that lurked around him haunted him ever since.

They were all dead, but some force kept them animated. Pieces of their rotting flesh dripped off and left only fur or scales and white bones behind. They spoke in languages known only to themselves. He could only feel them creeping into his dreams, trying to lure him into the forest.

He had to draw the girl here. He knew it would be putting her in danger, but he needed another human to save his sanity. He fingered his wand, hidden within his filthy robes, and wished he knew how to bring her here. The words lurked in his mind, accented with the snakelike hiss of Voldemort's voice, but he didn't know how to cast the spell upon her. Their connection would have to be stronger, and then…

Abi In Malam Rem

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