Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Run boy run! This world is not made for you

Run boy run! They’re trying to catch you

ooo

Harry watched disinterestedly at the twitching body beneath the soles of his boot. Without mercy, he drove his silver-sword into the skull, piercing the brain until the hissing stopped. Hermione and Ron were behind him, checking their sides in case of stragglers. Harry nudged the body with his foot, checking if there was any life still kicking in them. 

Hermione tapped Harry’s shoulder, bringing him out of his musings. “Harry I think they’re dead.” She assured, preventing his struggling arms from doing something completely unnecessary. Hermione nodded with him as he sheathed his sword into the basilisk-hide scabbard strapped to his waist. 

“There were more than yesterday, aren’t there? Bloody hell, these things breed like rabbits.” Ron bent down on his knees, taking in the spilled guts with morbid fascination. “Harry took on a lot of’em. Whole hoard. Merlin Harry do you ever run out of that energy of yours?”

Harry ignored him in favor of the trunk he had kicked open. He opened the enchanted duffel bag, placing whatever was in there. Useless garments fit for bandages, jewelry for rune-crafting, eye-drops, and everything the trunk had in its compartment. Tempted to take the spare tire, which Hermione had giggled about since neither of them knew how to drive, he took it anyway without struggle. If they were desperate enough they would drive, but they never found a need for it. They preferred travelling on foot.

He continued kicking compartments open, looting the unopened luggage, and rummaging through the dashboards for anything that looked useful. Ron and Hermione were working in sync, checking their surroundings and double-tapping the dead walkers they came across. 

“I think some of these were looted,” Ron muttered. He ran his eyes around the whole gridlocked highway. There were some cars that were popped open, suitcases zipped open, indicating someone had looted the area; also the dead walkers were a giveaway, some of them had puncture wounds on their cranium, indicating something had manually pulled the trigger. “Think some people came here? That water truck looks dry.” He commented.

Yesterday, they had come upon the cube truck filled with gallons of water. They had no need of it since they could conjure water with their magic, yet Harry could see the possibility in keeping a few in case of emergencies. Currently, it was dry and some were knocked open, the caps on the ground under the truck. 

Harry nodded disappointedly. He noticed dry blood on the black car and the opened door of said car. Also, the minivan that had a bogey shot dead in the backseat, a puddle of blood pooling near the steps. There were some blood tracks that lead into the forest. Someone was either bleeding out or stepped in the puddle of blood after killing the walker in the van. There were footprints stamped onto the dirt, leading away from the highway. 

“Harry, I think you should take a look at this,” Hermione called out as quietly as she could to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

The wizard raised a brow at her, walking to where she was at, Ron walking along his flank. Hermione pointed at the words written on the window frame of a basic yellow car. written with what seemed to be white paint. SOPHIA STAY HERE WE WILL COME EVERY DAY.  Some food was left on the hood of the car; a small tub of peanut butter, some bottles of water, canned beans, canned peaches, and a bottle of OJ, things someone left ripe for the taking -- assuming whoever Sophia was would eat it, which Harry found doubtful. The Golden Trio had seen these signs everywhere around the various towns they scavenged through, hopeful messages written noticeably across walls, windows, even the giant billboards on top of the tall buildings. Harry didn’t think any of those that were missing turned up alive -- it was slim.

Harry sighed, looking at Hermione’s pleading face. 

And Merlin did that woman know to stick it where it hurts.

“It’s probably someone’s daughter, Harry,” Hermione shook her head at her boyfriend who wanted to say something. “I know, I know, its food and it's right there, Harry, Ronald. I just couldn’t live with myself if a starving child were to miraculously appear from that creek, desperately looking for food. I know you wouldn’t Harry, you know how it feels like.”

Harry sneered at no one in particular. He knew how it feels, to be starved and left behind. How desperate he was back then, clawing at the bits of soup his relatives left for him at the doggy door they had installed. How it feels to go nights without eating, but at this point in time shouldn’t everybody? Food would never be given out freely (such as the ones on the hood) ever again; they had to ration what they found, dividing things up sparingly. Everyone who had survived would experience nights without a bite to eat. But those brown eyes he was staring into spoke of stubbornness, she stood her ground adamantly. 

He knew he wasn’t going to win this. It was rigged at the start. He looked away and backed off from the car. The sign looked relatively new, someone recently painted the message before a hoard swept through the highway.

“We’ll take it if it's not gone tomorrow,” he says curtly. He doubted anyone could survive a night by themselves, but he’d give this to Hermione. Harry looked away when Hermione smiled at him brightly, approving his decision. 

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione gave him a side hug before hobbling off to check an adjacent car stuffing things in her enchanted duffel bag. 

“You sure about this, Harry?” Ron, before he joined his girlfriend, asked quietly. 

Harry nodded. “We can’t be soulless,” even though he had his doubts, he could see why Hermione didn’t want them taking the food.

“Can’t be hungry either,” Ron muttered back without any heat. He knew how Harry worked, and he also knew how Hermione worked. That’s why they had great chemistry together. “I love her to bits but sometimes…”

“She just cares,” Harry shrugged. 

Harry shook his head when Ron continued to grumble. He nodded at Hermione, who waited nearby, out of hearing range of course. They had developed this formation purely for their own survival, so no one would be caught off guard; all eyes were on different directions, and no one was ever alone. They did almost everything together, scavenging, gathering, fishing, camping, all sorts of things that had prevented death from knocking on their doorsteps. 

“Go with her,” Harry nodded towards Hermione. “I’ll be right behind you guys after I check out the perimeter.”

There is always one exception, Harry Potter.

“You sure you’ll be okay alone?” Ron cocked his head to the right. “You said to always stay together.”

“I know,” Harry nodded. “I’ll be quick.”

“Alright,” Ron nodded. He trusted Harry in not getting himself killed, given he had experience with Harry’s stupidly dumb luck. “We’ll contact you via patronus if things get sketchy, mate. You do the same.”

Harry gave a final nod, placing the mask he had under his jaw over his nose as he walked into the creek.

~

Harry snapped his fingers, his green eyes glowing brightly. 

Around him he could hear everything .  The wind brushing his hair, water trickling down into a pond, a roaring river some distance from him, the trees rustling above him, the shrouded animals breathing rapidly -- scared to expose themselves; and most importantly, he could hear every walker lugging themselves around the leaves, the dirt, the mud, everything . He decided to take a few walkers’ heads with a quick sweep of his sword. They had advanced towards him from the depths of the creek, having heard his boots smashing against the mud. It seemed this creek was besieged by walkers, they must have migrated away from the highway -- or even the city since the interstate was some miles from Atlanta. 

Harry kicked at the walker’s head much like a football, watching it make direct impact against a boulder. Brain matter mixed with blood splattered on the side of the boulder, giving it a resounding and disgusting splat . He decided to stab the rest with his sword since it was quicker, and without needless gore. Lifting the blade effortlessly from the engorged eye socket, he wiped his blade on his pants and moved on, careful enough not to stray too far from the entrance.

Surveying the area seemed rather pointless, since the attacking walkers were quickly slain, and nothing out of the ordinary was in sight. Harry marked the side of the boulder with a red ‘x’ with the walker blood, cleaning his fingers with a quick scourgify . He left the mark as an indication that he had already scouted  the specific area. He was about to apparate himself out of the forest when he heard a small, almost silent whimper. 

‘ Help… ’ he heard. ‘ Help …’ he heard again. 

The voice sounded young, light, and child-like.

It reminded him of Teddy. 

He heard the echo drifting in the sea of trees further into the creek. Summoning his wand from its holster, Harry pointed it at the sky.

“ Expecto Patronum! ” He watched as the silver-mist turned into a gliding snow owl, landing on his shoulder, nudging his head affectionately. “I need you to deliver a message for me, quickly.” The snow owl nodded its small head understandingly, staring intently at Harry.

“To Ronald Bilius Weasley, message starts:...” 

~

“... Someone needs help. Sounds like a child. Stay nearby. Camp out in the cars for now. I’ll be there shortly.” The spectral owl repeated in Harry’s voice. 

“That fucking idiot,” Ron growled. “Going off on his own and doing shit he doesn’t need to--” he wanted to kick something. He wanted to kick the nearest car but he knew it’ll be futile and idiotic. He didn’t want to attract more walkers. He glanced at Hermione who grimaced when the owl flew back into the sky. “We’ll camp in those cars for now.” 

“You shouldn’t be angry Ronald. No matter how cold Harry had gotten, nothing would ever cure him of his hero complex,” she tried to lighten the mood between them. 

“Just wish he would be smart about this. He was the one who said we stick together for everything .” He hissed. “Yet there he goes, doing the exact opposite of what he told us to do!” 

“Harry never makes sense. You know how stubborn he gets when he sets his mind to it,” she said exasperatedly. She smiled fondly when she took out the picture she had hidden in her backpack. “See? Look at that stubborn face.”

Ron snorted when Hermione placed the picture in his open hand. “This was during our third year, yeah? After he was sent to the mediwing after saving Sirius.”

Hermione nodded. “It was taken soon after Madam Pomfrey demanded him to never get injured ever again.”

Shaking his head fondly, Ron gave the picture back to Hermione. He remembered that day slightly. All he could remember was Harry’s face after Madam Pomfrey scolded him, and Hermione swooped in and took the picture. It was from an old polaroid camera she had stashed. For such a stickler for rules, she could surely bend some of them when it benefits herself. 

“We’ll have to deal with this, huh?”

“We always have, love,” she said affectionately, rubbing his nose with her own. “If he doesn’t come out of the woods within the next few hours, we will track him down if it pleases you, Ronald.” She assured her boyfriend, placing her head against his strong shoulder. Thankfully, she didn’t need to assure herself, she knew Harry would be able to survive almost anything.

Even with that dumb luck of his. 

~

Harry followed the sloshing of mud up ahead. The tired  mewling ceased as he continued his search throughout the creek, but he could still hear the walkers growling the closer he got. The child was either dead or exhausted from her hopeless pleas. He prayed to whatever was up there in the heavens the child was just exhausted and she couldn’t make a sound while she ran ahead.

When he heard her yelp, Harry bolted. He didn’t know how he dodged the trees, slamming his shoulders into them sometimes, shaking as if he wasn’t deterred by the harsh pain pulsating against his shoulder. He needed to get there and he needed to get there fast. 

Harry felt his breath grow harsher, his lungs heavier the closer he got to the edge of a muddy pond, where he noticed a little girl struggling against a walker. “No!” She screamed, drawing attention from every walker around them. He cursed.

 A second walker was limping on the unsuspecting girl’s flank, inches away from her neck before a small hole had appeared  on its forehead, making it drop and sink into the mud lifelessly. Harry turned his attention to the other walker hastily, sending a cutting hex to sever the top of the walker’s cranium, killing it instantly. 

Before any walker could reach the girl, Harry had sent them flying into the trees, stunning them momentarily. Once he got to the girl, he grabbed her by the waist and noticed her body slacken in his arms. She had fainted from exhaustion, Harry scoffed. There were stragglers surrounding them, a lot fortunately trapping themselves in the mud. Cursing silently when one lunged at him, Harry apparated to the highway in a desperate attempt to escape.

Harry landed on the side of the highway, biting his tongue; it prevented him from screaming in agony. He felt something rupture and he could taste copper. The girl had collided against his splinched wound. He looked to the side and lifted his shirt, seeing a chunk of his oblique was missing. It left a gaping, bloody hole with circular lines decorating his side. As of now, the chunk of flesh was being eaten by the walkers in the creek. Breathing harshly, Harry peeled himself off the road with the fainted girl in his arms. He lifted her up, wincing at the sharp pain travelling down his spine, and despite all this he persisted to walk closer to the light of a small, dim lumos.

“Hermione,” he eventually groaned out. 

It caught the attention of his curly haired friend; she was probably on watch while Ron was getting some shut-eye. He watched her eyes widen at the state Harry was in. He tried breathing in calmly, but that sharp pain at his side turned it ragged, stunted. She gave her boyfriend a sharp kick and bolted. She arrived after a few seconds, her wand already casting the levitating charm to alleviate Harry from the weight. Ron joined them afterwards, kicking into gear once he arrived by laying him down on the road again. He placed his hand over the wound, putting some needed pressure. 

Harry’s breath grew harsher and harsher the more pressure Ron added, his vision shaking slightly. He seethed, of all the fucking times he could’ve splinched.

“Go Ron, watch the girl. I’ll take over,” Hermione said, putting her hands over Ron’s bloodied ones. Ron nodded, giving Harry a worried glance before walking away. “Stupid, so stupid,” she hissed, keeping the pressure on the wound. “Keep breathing Harry, alright?”

Harry mustered enough energy to nod his head minutely. 

Whispering an incantation against the pendant she wore around her neck, a trunk expanded next to her. She took her hands off the wound for a second, adding some weight on the wound to prevent Harry from bleeding out. She opened one of the many compartments in her trunk, grabbing a dark red potion, then a brown one. She rubbed her hands together after adding a few drops of the essence of dittany, applying it to the gruesome wound. 

Harry bit his arm tightly until he bled, as he felt the dittany burning against his side.

Hermione wiped her sweat when a green puff of smoke billowed upwards. “Drink the blood replenisher after a few minutes, alright? Then I expect you to lay down and rest .” She hissed harshly.

Harry nodded, not having the energy to protest. Once he regained his breath, he sat up with Hermione’s aid. “Was she bitten?” He hissed breathlessly.

“No, Harry. I checked.” Hermione aided him by lifting the potion slightly, making it much easier to consume the potion. 

Harry coughed at the potion’s disgusting taste. “Good.”

“I’ll help you to the van, Harry-”

Harry didn’t like being useless. He smacked her arm away softly. “I can do it myself, Hermione.” He whispered harsher than needed, limping towards the van leaving a saddened Hermione behind.

She watched Harry carefully, only straying away when she heard the van door open. Hermione shook her head, scoffing. Stubborn Gryffindors and their stupid pride, she cursed. 

~

“What do we do about her?” Ron's eyes were directed in the front, checking every possible angle, his back leaning against the blue minivan. While Hermione, who was a bit peeved with the Man-Who-Lived, sat in the front seat. 

“We can’t just leave her,” Hermione shook her head. “That’s just wrong.”

 “Do you think she’s Sophia? The one the people who left the sign on that car are looking for?” Ron asked, eyes narrowing as the sun’s beams were getting harsher. He opted for a sleeveless t-shirt because of the arid climate. “By the way, she’s still asleep. You think I should wake her up?”

“Give her an hour to rest,” Hermione hands were already on a wand. “Are you feeling alright?”

Harry nodded. “Give the girl the food her people had left her with,” Harry leaned back. “Do you have a pain reliever?”

Hermione nodded, having the vials at the ready in her pocket. “Take the one with the light-blue color first, then the green-one. I got to give Malfoy credit where credit is due.” She smiled as Harry followed her instructions. “These things are brilliant.”

Ron snorted. “Don’t say that I think Malfoy’s ego could hear you across the pond,” he chuckled at his own jibe. Harry shook his head. The two had ceased their childish rivalries ever since Harry had saved the Malfoy’s from life in Azkaban. It’s a long-shot saying they were friends, but they tolerated each other’s existence unless someone spoke out of turn -- which is usually Ron. 

Hermione smacked her boyfriend’s arm. “Merlin, Ronald.”

“Whot?” Her boyfriend asked incredulously.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Have you guys covered the area?”

Hermione nodded. “Most of the cars contained mostly luggage, usually filled with clothing and even gaudy jewelry. Perfect if we ever want to start warding areas with runes. They can also be used as talismans, as well.”

“What about walkers? Seen any?”

“Except a few,” Hermione said, “the night was quiet. We killed the ones that were wandering nearby, but it wasn’t at all dangerous.”

Harry nodded his head approvingly. He didn't want to abandon them for a little girl, but his instincts kicked in. What was the saying? Old habits die hard. 

“I think the girl’s waking up,” Ron whispered. “She must’ve been exhausted. Look at the poor girl’s shoes, they’re all ruined.” The child’s shoes were indeed trashed, since she had also run through mud and kept on running. The soles were peeling apart and the laces looked bitten off. 

“Hermione, I think it’s best you talk to her.” Harry looked to Hermione for her approval. Without protesting, his best friend nodded. 

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione exited the car.

Chapter Text

“Hello,” Hermione greeted kindly, smiling at the girl to put those tensed shoulders at ease, “I brought some food for you. I thought after running so much you’d feel a bit peckish. Oh here’s some water as well,” not wanting to scare the poor girl, she made sure she placed the water bottle in her hand slowly and gently. “Feel free to take your time.”

Sophia immediately tore into the peanut butter sandwich the kind lady had left on her lap, her eyes tearing up a little at the taste of actual food. Drinking some liquid to get the peanut butter off her tongue, she breathed in slowly. After some time, she had already scarfed down the sandwich and drank all the water the lady left her. She heard a tiny giggle next to her, not a moan or a scary growl, a soft and melodic giggle. The woman she woke up to approached her slowly, giving her a small napkin she kept in her big bag. “Thank you,” the little girl squeaked nervously.

“You have manners,” Hermione complimented, “it is a good idea you hold on to such. There are times where everyone needs it. Anyway. Since you’re done eating, I would like to have a small talk with you, if that’s possible?” She proffered her hand slowly lest she scares the girl. “Hi my name is Hermione Granger, my best friend saved you from the walkers last night.” The woman’s smile brightened when the girl’s delicate hand grabbed hers, shaking it nervously.

“My n-name is…” she drank a sip of her water to ease her dry throat -- probably from all the screaming and running. She stole a glance at the pretty woman, hoping she didn’t offend her in any way but Hermione gave her a beautiful, patient smile. “Sophia Peletier, missus…”

Hermione giggled again, hoping it would ease the girl a little more. “It’s okay to call me Hermione since I’ll be calling you Sophia from now on. I was wondering if you knew, in any way, where your group may be?” She doubted the child would know but she asked anyway. 

Sophia shook her head.

Hermione nodded her head in understanding. “The next question is a choice, whether you want to answer it or not, it’s up to you. How did you get lost in the creek where my best friend found you?”  

“I-I,” Sophia cleared her throat, “I didn’t-didn’t mean to run away from Mister Rick… he-he just left m-me…” 

Hermione could feel the incredulity exuding from the Man-Who-Lived sitting in the minivan, no doubt reliving the days and hours he lived with those disgusting relatives of his; how even now, they’d do the same thing this Rick guy did to Sophia. Sad, they'd do it willingly and happily. It grossed her out, expunging something they barely knew about in order to keep whatever they considered was normal. Hermione sent Sophia a sympathetic look, to be abandoned in the woods is a cruel fate even if it's purely accidental, especially for a child. 

“Did you hide somewhere safe?” Hermione asked softly, not wanting to put her hands on the child lest Sophia becomes uncomfortable with her. 

What the girl said next sent shivers down Hermione’s arms. 

“They always find you.” The child whispered, obviously scarred by the experience. 

Sophia looked down and Hermione saw tears dropping on the ruined denim capri jeans she wore. The little girl was too busy twiddling with her fingers to give Hermione a straight answer, only speaking up after a few minutes.

“I-I found a-a church and I hid there…”

Hermione nodded in thought. At least she was smart enough to hide there for the night. Without a source of light or any experience out in the wilderness, if it isn’t the walkers that kill you, it is the elements that would finish the job. Harry had probably ran far out in the creek to reach her in time. She highly doubts there is a church nearby just off the highway. Pretty counterintuitive for a church to be a straight run from the interstate, especially since the creek looked uninhabitable and there were not any signs she could see which indicated any pathways or anywhere to guide someone towards the church.

Her rambling thoughts again, get it together, Hermione! She thought to herself. “That’s smart thinking,” Hermione complimented, happily receiving a small smile as a reward. “I think that concludes our small talk. Why don’t I introduce you to the one who saved you last night?” she encouraged, humming as Sophia nodded her head politely. “Come along,” she waved at her.

Sophia followed Hermione to the minivan. There was another man, one with red hair, who had given her a small salute, which made her giggle a little. As she got closer to the van, she noticed dark-hair pressed against the headrest of the car seat. At first glance, she thought it was a walker, which would explain her hesitance. Upon closer inspection, she realized it wasn’t a walker but a strong looking man resting his head! She could tell the man was a fighter, like Daryl and Merle! He even had a cool looking sword dangling outside the van at his side. 

“Sophia, this is my friend, Harry Potter. Harry, this is Sophia.” Hermione smiled. 

Hermione laughed softly at Sophia’s frozen stature. She’s completely enraptured by Harry’s beautiful green eyes! 

Harry had simply waved at her, head nodding slightly. “I hope you’re doing well.” He said deeply.

Sophia nodded almost out of habit. “Thank you for saving me, Mister Harry.” She said quietly. Soft-spoken, this one. 

Harry gave her a small smile. A rare gesture, it seemed, as both his best friends widened their eyes in disbelief.  He beckoned Sophia to come a little closer. She obeyed, wondering what the man would do now she’s at arms-length in front of the man. Harry’s green eyes softened, letting his calloused hand fall on her head, patting it much like an owner would do for their dog. 

Hermione smiled at the scene. Harry’s cold-heart could never drive out his compassion for children; Teddy was an example of this, safe and secure behind wards with his grandmother. She stopped her musings when she realized Harry’s eyes were on her. She looked back inquiringly.

This cannot be a coincidence. Harry had said through their telepathic link. Show her the sign .

Hermione nodded minutely. “I hope it is,” she whispers. She cannot bear if she were to lose any of her boys, albeit a child who can barely run away from one walker. “Do you recognize the handwriting, Sophia?” The witch gestured to the message written with white paint on the familiar yellow car. 

Harry had long stopped his petting, allowing himself to, once again, rest against the chair. For now, anyway, since Hermione’s first aid had recovered his side and repaired the splinch. The girl looked over at the car Hermione was pointing at, leaning in slightly to get a better angle. 

Sophia’s face flickered to one of recognition. “That’s my moms,” she squeaked. “D-did she-she send you guys?” 

Hermione shook her head, softening her gaze when the girl looked downtrodden. “It was by chance Harry found you, Sophia.”

“Oh…” Sophia said, looking down to the ground in disappointment. She sniffed, missing the doll Eliza had given her; she would’ve hug it all throughout the night. Then the biters came and took it away from her. “I want to see my mom, Mister Harry,” she pleaded quietly.

Harry did nothing but stare at the crying child. His face showed nothing, remaining impassive.  He didn’t want to break her heart because of an empty promise or cruelly disregard her pleas. He looked to Hermione, who fortunately interfered with a hand gently placed on the little girl’s shoulders.

“You’ll see her,”  Hermione promised, her voice almost a whisper. She choked up in emotion. She understood how it felt to separate from her family. She had made them forget in favor of their own safety, yet still to this day, she misses them. But she knew she cannot save them.“We will find her..”

“I don’t think we need to find her anymore. You hear that?” 

Ron stood tall on one of the cars. He bounced off the car and regarded his friends. He heard something while he was keeping watch for them. His ears picked up some mutterings floating between the trees near the highway, at the entrance of the creek. 

“Road’s completely silent. I heard them just a few minutes back.” He glanced at Harry. “You think you can fight?”

The wizard nodded. Harry’s hands grabbed on to the hilt of his sword as he stood up shakily. 

Constant vigilance, Harry thought. Even in a state of rest, Harry will keep his eyes on all exits, and perk up at any auditory cue. He had reinforced it and instilled it into Hermione’s and Ron’s training during the war, making them lighter sleepers. He was somewhat proud Ron kept in charge since could barely hold his sword properly. 

The footsteps were now a bit audible for the untrained ear, yes. He could hear voices traveling along the line of trees guarding the creek. Looking away from Sophia and Hermione, Harry subtly snapped his fingers, allowing his eyes to glow. He could hear footsteps coming closer, and closer. If it was a walker, it’d be accompanied by a subtle growl or a hiss, maybe a dry moan, but all he could hear were mutters, and coherent grumblings. Human, he concluded. But it’d be naive of him to think they were friendlies or Sophia’s group. Snapping his fingers again, his eyes dimmed down to their original shade of green. His head turned sharply, his attention to Hermione, nodding towards Sophia.

Hermione acted swiftly. She wordlessly grabbed Sophia, pulling her into one of the open cars despite the little girl’s fear (or was it protest?).

Ron smiled mischievously at the two people who had appeared from the creek. One appeared to be a redneck and another looked like a mouse. The two had noticed them immediately, one already aiming their crossbow straight at Harry. The wizard stood back slightly, his arms were a little shaky since he was still recovering from his injury from the night before. Ron doesn’t think Harry could take them on by himself. But those eyes didn’t waver. Those beautiful yet terrifying green eyes were trained on the two. He was observing them, Ron realized, waiting for one of them to strike. 

Ron stepped forward, advancing on the two, not flinching at the redneck’s growl and the crossbow currently being pointed at his face.“‘Ello Ladies and Gents,” Ron laid his accent on thick, letting himself give an exaggerated bow. His two sharp blue eyes were fixated on the redneck. “Nice weapon you’ve got there! That a Horton Scout HD? Nice, nice, been thinking’ about getting me one of those with Harry over there. Appreciate a fellow archer huh? Bravo, golly good show my good man!” He smirked.

The redneck did not look amused. If anything, he looked offended that Ron knew the crossbow he had in his hands. “Who the fuck are you guys?” The redneck sneered, aiming his crossbow on the red-head and keeping his eyes on the one with the big ass sword. 

They remained unperturbed. “People who’d rather have a civil discussion,” Ron quipped, clearly egging the temperamental redneck on for a loop. “So what brings you back to interstate…” he looked at the sign, “eighty-five? Kind of gridlocked by the looks of it, and these cars have already been sacked.”

“What’s it to ya?!”

“Not really a man with words, are you?” Ron frowned in mock disappointment, belied by the tiny grin forming on his face. “But to answer your question, nothing -- nothing at all, mate. In fact, what are you doing here?”

“Does this guy keep yappin?! Imma about to shoot an arrow between those eyes of his.” The redneck exclaimed at Harry who remained impassive. 

“Bloody hell, don’t shout!” Ron admonished. “You’ll attract more walkers, you idiot!” 

“Ain’t no ankle biter gonna eat me while I’m still kickin’,” The redneck sneered at the audacity. “Why didn’t y’all answer my fuckin’ question?!”

“What is with all the swearing?” Ron queried. “There’s a child around here, bloody hell. You look at a guy funny and he points a crossbow in ya face!”

“Child?” The mousy woman spoke up for the first time. “I only see you two.”

“That’s why I said ‘around here’ not next to me,” Ron pointed out sarcastically. 

“Ron stop being rude,” Hermione’s voice drew the redneck’s attention. 

Ron quickly retaliated when that crossbow was aimed at her.

“Back off mate,” Ron readied his own arrow threateningly. “No one points a weapon at my lady. You get me, tosser?”

“The fuck you just called me?!” 

“Look at that Harry, an idiot in real life! Man, haven’t seen one in ages!” Ron snorted, sizing the man up, his blue eyes no short of burning with anger.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly, leave it to her boyfriend! “And are you any better? Honestly, Ronald, it has been almost seventeen years since we were First Years, and you still instigate fights,” Hermione huffed, glaring at her boyfriend. While she was touched by Ron’s protection, there were other matters to attend! “Why are you two here?”

“Why don’t you tell ya boyfriend here to point that arrow somewhere else ‘fore this arrow goes between those eyes of his.” the redneck sneered at Ron.  “And that other guy over there to put that big ass sword down.”

Hermione shook her head. “Then you do the same. We won’t stand down until you stand down.” She said diplomatically. She was cautious with her words since she didn’t know the threat she was facing. Unfortunately, she only dealt with a few muggles in her lifetime solely her family. 

She glanced at Harry, noticing how rigid he was getting. She shook her head, going unnoticed by the two strangers, hoping Harry would catch the hint. He nodded in acceptance, backing down slightly, but she knew he wasn’t naive. He would keep watch of them; and if there were a tiny indication they revealed themself a threat, then Harry would swiftly eliminate them. His jaw tightened when the redneck spoke.

“Then I ain’t tellin’ any of y’all nothing,” the redneck kept his eyes on the silent guy. “I’m watching you.”

Harry rolled his eyes. 

“We are looking for someone,” The woman said vaguely. Daryl cursed at the woman for giving information up. Hermione looked at the woman’s hands. They were thin and frail, and gripping a doll turning her fists a pearly white. She planned on adding it to the beacon she had made for the child.  

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Does this someone have a name?” Hermione quirked her head. 

“Hey, hey! We’re the ones askin’ the questions around here.” The stranger sneered, “Why don’t you get to talkin about what you folks are doing around these parts? We were here first.”

“Last I checked, we were here first, mate.” Ron growled at the stranger. “You weren’t the one who dealt with the horde. We were!” He backed off to the side to reveal a bunch of bodies littering the floor. 

The strangers’ eyes widened. 

“H-how-” The woman didn’t know whether she should be amazed or terrified.

“Fucking horseshit,” The man scoffed. “Y’all didn’t do this shit.”

“I’m not the type of person to sink so low as to seek validation from you,” Ron shot back. 

Hermione’s digits were already holding the bridge of her nose tightly, the same could be said about her patience too. It was wearing a little thin. “This isn’t going anywhere! Why don’t we be civilized and discuss so that we can get the answers we want, hm?”

“To honor that,” she continues, “We only came here to scavenge for items not typically picked up by the average survivor: Clothes for bandages, plastic containers for food storage, and the list goes on. Now, since you said you were looking for someone. Is that someone named Sophia?” 

The redneck growled. “How the fuck do you know that name?!” 

“Watch your mouth,” Ron sneered.

“The sign you left is rather obvious,” Hermione glared at Ron then looked back at the other woman. “That yellow car, the food you left. We noticed it, yes, so we’re only assuming. Purely coincidental, I assure you.” 

That didn’t dash the hope in the woman’s eyes at all. “She’s here?” The mousy woman gasped, trying to look over Hermione’s shoulders for any sign of Sophia.

“How do we know you’re really here for the girl and why should we believe you?” Ron growled at Daryl in particular. 

Daryl puffed up his chest at the challenge.

“She’s my daughter,” the woman begged. “Please, please. This is her doll, this her doll, right here… l-look at it!”

“For all we know it’s your doll and you’re just pulling our leg-” Ron scoffed.

“Fuck outta here with your bullshit assumptions!”

“Enough!” Hermione glared at the two, “you’ll attract walkers if you keep it up-”

“ You’ll attract more with that big mouth of yours-” 

Ron seethed, taking aim with his bow at the bold redneck. “Finish that sentence, bruv, I fuckin’ dare ya!” He growled menacingly. No one talked like that to Hermione.

“Ron!” She pulled on the back of his shirt harshly, choking him in the process. “Enough! If both of you haven’t realized, this isn’t the best of places to hold a screaming match. Walkers are attracted to sound, unless none of you have known or remembered.” She hissed exasperatedly. Honestly! Why does she have to deal with these mongrels?!  

Ron shot a glare at the redneck, moving closer to Harry. 

Hermione breathed in a steady breath. “Let’s test this theory out, alright?” The two strangers seemed confused with her question. Hermione nodded, ignoring the expletives leaking from the man’s mouth.

“Fucking --”

She turned towards them, the promise of retribution evident on her face. “If you double cross us, I have a particularly good way of making both of you forget,” she added in with a glare, ending the conversation with an air of finality. 

“The fuck did you just say--”

Hermione was two seconds away of shooting a silencing spell on the man. “Sophia, why don’t you come out? I think there are others here to see you,” she encouraged, ignoring the man’s irritated growl at being interrupted.

The woman gasped. 

The little girl peeked her head through the broken back window of a car Hermione had hid her in. “Mom?” Sophia gasped, skirting around a flipped over car a few centimeters away from the standoff. “Mom is that really you?”

“Oh my…” The woman's hands were shaking while the redneck’s mouth was ajar. 

“MOM!” Sophia cried out when she realized the ones talking seemed familiar. She had recognized the voice being Mister Daryl’s but Sophia didn’t want the people who saved her mad.

The woman threw herself at the child, smothering her in a big bear hug. She was shaking, and her tears were cathartic. “Are you okay?” the woman choked out the question, emotions running rampant.

Sophia nodded, her own tears dripping down her face. “They took care of me, mommy! Mister Harry saved me from the walkers, he did!”

“Huh, so I was wrong,” Ron admitted wryly, shrugging indifferently. “Guess she wasn’t pulling our leg.”

“See?” Daryl smirked at the now fuming Ron. Harry just shook his head.

“How can I ever thank you?” the mousy woman sniffed, her eyes glancing at a smiling Hermione, who felt her heart warm at the reunion. 

“I don’t think I deserve the credit. Harry’s the one who rescued her. He saved her in the nick of time.” Hermione grinned as Harry looked away from the group, not used to the praise in the stranger’s eyes or the scrutiny given by the redneck. He’s not one to love attention.

They continued to talk, and eventually introduced each other. The mousy woman is named Carol and the redneck is Daryl. Ron had snorted at how their names rhymed together, while both Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes fondly at their best friend.

Daryl approached Harry slowly, a small gleam of respect in his eyes. “How’d you find her?” Daryl kept his weapon drawn in case they pulled anything funny.

Harry regarded him, he too had his weapon drawn. “I heard screaming.” He said, his relatively deep voice sending shivers down the two strangers’ spines.

“Down this close to the interstate? Got some good ears on ya,” Daryl complimented. 

Harry simply shrugged, his flustered face simmering down a little. 

“Ye can track?”

Harry nodded his head. He could track to an extent, not to the extent Daryl was implying. Realistically, he has otherworldly abilities beyond human comprehension amplifying his own capabilities. But, he trusted neither of them to tell them of such. “Somewhat,” he answered. 

Daryl nodded his own head. Whatever the gesture meant, Harry did not know nor cared. “There more of you? Your people got somewhere to stay?”

Harry raised a skeptical brow. “Not at the moment,” he said curtly.

Information is valuable these days.

“Stay with us!” Carol insists. “Or, for now, whatever you prefer,” when she finally looked at Harry’s face, she knew the offer would be denied. Out of manners and the debt forming between them, she still insisted. “There’s a farm beyond the creek. It’s safe. They have food, a good water source, and even cattle. I would like to thank you all somehow. The rest would probably have my head for extending this to y’all, but… you all saved the only thing…” she choked up after glancing at her daughter one more time, praying this wasn’t a sick and twisted dream. That her daughter was in her arms, holding just as tightly as she is. 

Hermione looked to Harry, gauging his reaction. He was staring at the reunited mother and daughter, his eyes shining with… guilt? She’s been with Harry enough to know the reasoning behind every emotion, understanding where those specific emotions were stemming from. He’s feeling guilty because he’s going to deny their offer. Oh, Hermione’s eyes softened, how precious he is. 

“Despite the world in shambles, humanity shouldn’t be the only thing to wither away,” she said sagely, everyone’s heads turned to her. She giggled when Daryl scratched his head, letting out a fat ‘huh?’. “Acts of kindness shouldn’t be lost.”

“Not when assholes stab you in the back,” her boyfriend murmured, the wry look he sent the two didn’t go unnoticed. They all nodded and agreed, nonetheless.

 It was realistic, the Golden Trio had experienced these things both serving in the war and running from it. 

“Sorry for doubting ya, Carol. But don’t worry about it. We’d do it again, or well, Harry would do it again,” Ron smirked at his best mate. He glanced at Daryl, pointing at him with a smirk on his face. “Don’t know about this one, mate. Maybe leave’em for the pickings.”

“The fuck you say to me you pumpkin looking motherfucker?!” 

Ron laughed at Daryl’s expense. 

Harry was too distracted checking around for any stragglers to shoot back a proper response. The only one to notice was Daryl -- after calming down. He started checking around with him, thinking ‘observant, this one, huh?’ He noticed, walking closer to him, the sword turned out to be a broadsword and looked pretty good, even with the gaudy gem on the pommel. They somewhat worked in tandem, Harry flanked to the left while Daryl flanked to the right, checking each and every corner while the rest were conversing with each other. Once the area was secured, they nodded to each other and walked back to their respective places. Coming to the conclusion there were no walkers (which was a first) brave enough to attack them, Daryl trained his eyes to the sky. He noticed they’d stayed around longer than intended.

“We’re losing light with all this idling. Y’all coming or what?” Daryl had decided to lose the weapon for now, his well-toned arms bunching up slightly when he fixed the strap. “Well?”

Ron and Hermione looked to their delegated leader. Harry simply shook his head, walking closer to the mother and daughter, kneeling down to Sophia and started patting her head apologetically. Sophia nodded her head in understanding, bravely wrapping her arms around the man’s strong neck. Only his friends noticed his shoulder tensing up at the sudden hug, relaxing only a little when she started crying into his chest, whimpering soft gratitudes and farewells. 

Carol took the time to hug him as well, much to Harry’s discomfort. But she thankfully pulled back shortly after whispering a quiet and gracious ‘thank you’, kissing his cheek. She joined in hands with her daughter, walking at the side of Daryl. Daryl simply nodded his head at him, saluting at them (flipping the bird at Ron for good measure, inciting his anger from the said Weasley)  before entering the creek again.

“Fuck that guy,” the redhead mutters. A few moments passed since the two survivors left the interstate, Ron wasn’t one that liked silence. “What do we do now?” Ron looked to Harry inquiringly. “Kill another horde?”

They started moving, passing over the interstate when Ron had asked that question. Ron knew Harry wouldn’t bother killing walkers needlessly, sometimes anyway. Harry had this glint in his eyes whenever he killed a walker, something that looked like morbid retribution in his own opinion. It scared him sometimes but Hermione was able to pull Harry out of it with a simple tap on his shoulder. The look manifested when Harry had slain every walker in that hoard quicker than even the mind could register. Ron and Hermione looked at each other, the worry evident on their face for their friend. 

Hermione sighed. She was the only one who was not overly fond of killing walkers, preferring they took a safer and more cautious route than the ones they were used to. “Honestly you two,” she said exasperatedly, “don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

She remembered how all of them first reacted to the horde. 

When they had arrived at the interstate again, Ron had wanted them to retreat from the threat. However, the horde proved completely useless to the power Harry held in his hands. Once again, Hermione and Ron were reminded why Harry was considered one of the most powerful wizards in their generation. Years of intercepting Death Eater activities all around Wizarding Europe and years of dueling self-entitled, belligerent wizards or witches, the couple could never remain composed when Harry displayed such effortless power. Of course, all the fun did not go to him. Hermione and Ron joined in, offering their own combatant experience to the fray. 

They did not only trust their magic, but they also trusted each other and the training Harry had instilled in them. He was the reason they were there today, and he is the only person they would ever remain loyal to, no matter what may happen in the near future. They will accept his decision and his decision alone. So the two looked to their leader, Ron walking to his side, and Hermione to his other. 

Unknown to them, Harry’s hand shook as he walked down the road, dodging a few abandoned vehicles. He didn’t like this pit he felt pooling in his gut.

~

“Who’s coming in?” Rick raised a brow when Dale stood up from his usual lounge chair, his binoculars snug against his eye sockets. “See anyone Dale?”

“Daryl, I see Daryl and Carol! Christ…” Dale pulled himself back from the binoculars, blinking, and then putting it back on. “Is-is that…?! That’s Sophia! They found Sophia!” He let out a shocked chuckle, not knowing how to feel. He was crossed between relieved and happy -- not knowing which he should pick. 

Rick had already jumped on the roof of the sturdy RV. “Can I see that?” He asks, his hand already held out. Dale handed over the binoculars easily, The old man started to hobble over to the ladder. Ever the gossip.  

“Oh my God…” Rick gasped when he adjusted the binoculars. His eyes were fixated on Sophia who was walking with her mother, one hand gripping Carol’s, and the other one gripping the doll Eliza had given her. 

Things were finally looking up for them.

It didn’t look like it after a few days. 

Everyone had reacquainted themselves with Sophia, some even asking about who saved her; Carl had to stand back despite wanting to hug his friend, but the injury giving him so much pain interfered. She shook her head, not really wanting to answer their questions. Ron, Hermione, and Harry will be her little secret for now, shared with her mother and mister Daryl. She also started avoiding Rick most of the time, a little bitter about the fact the man had promised she’d be safe -- only to be left alone in the creek.

They stuck to a routine. Glenn and Maggie scavenged around the town near Hershel’s farm, Shane teaches Andrea how to use her gun properly to some extent, Daryl goes out to hunt with his brother, Lori and Carol attend to the chores around the house with Beth and Patricia, and Sophia played around with Carl under the watchful gaze of Dale. Rick finally sighed, his burdens finally lifted off his shoulders. He couldn’t remember seeing the kids so happy before the Quarry. Their morale was kicked down a few notches after the CDC and leaving Jim behind. They lost a lot and Rick made it his mission to bring one semblance of hope.  

He didn’t think anything could possibly break this bubble they had put themselves in for the time. They could establish something here, make it work here at the farm with Hershel. Maybe set some watch points in different areas around the farmhouse, get some supplies and ready some crops, and maybe finally stop running away from the dead. A little doubt seeped into his mind as he looked out in the distance. He opted to ignore it, knowing he had bigger problems. 

For now they could stay. A new home -- a safe place away from the city, away from the walkers.

Then Glenn had told them about the barn. And Shane… Shane broke that bubble.

Everything went to hell afterwards. 

Chapter Text

We’ll never get free,

lamb to the slaughter.

What you gon’ do

when there’s blood in the water?

ooo

Merle was a bit skeptical. Ever since Daryl had caught him sitting near the cube truck they abandoned for Officer Friendly’s guns, bleeding out on the dirt, Merle stayed by their side without any intentions on helping the group; vindication, he calls it. Those fuckers willingly left him on the roof to be walker bait.. But it did not mean he couldn’t observe each and every one of them. In all honesty, he was a little worried for the little girl -- just because he’s considered the racist ratbag of the group does not make him a complete psychopath. Children are people you gotta protect, not something you leave in the creek. 

He couldn’t help but to laugh in Officer Friendly’s face when he said he left her -- abandoned her -- he looked so disappointed it almost made Merle keel over. It served as vengeance because he lost a whole hand ‘cause of this guy.

Rick kept droning on and on about searches and positions, but all Merle offered to the table was his amusement at everybody’s stupidity. God was he having a field day. That day, Merle saw the officer in a new light. He looked like a clown with a big fat red nose. So did the wannabe soldier and the two-timing wife hanging around them like some mistress. Clowns, all of them! Who fucking leaves a child in the middle of the sticks and not expect them to run? Clowns. 

Two tiring days (and nights), his brother dedicated his time searching for the girl, only to come back empty-handed. They all don’t have a fucking right yodeling about ‘not searching hard enough’ when his brother has been carrying this whole fucking investigation in the first place. After the first night they spent on that highway before Carl got shot, Merle doubted the girl was even alive. He did not know what possessed Daryl when he’d confronted him about this fruitless investigation. They both knew the girl’s chances were slim., yet what kept Daryl going? She was dead the minute she ran away.

Sad to say it but that girl wouldn’t be able to survive out there. She’d get tired, which would make her an easy breakfast for the walkers. Too protected, but Merle wagered that came at a cost since she had a shit-eating dad. If she did not tire out, she’d get hungry and starve to death, or get too dehydrated and die. But Daryl actually found the girl -- a bit scratched up and worn down but she was alive, which means everything in the world now, even Merle could see that. 

Merle remained impassive, but deep down he was impressed. Yet how did Daryl find the girl? That’s the question.

 Daryl patted Merle’s shoulders as he walked past. Merle glanced over and shot him a smirk. They sat together around the camp they built for themselves way outside the compound Rick and Shane established. Too stuffy, Merle said and opted to pitch a tent near the outskirts of the farmland.  

“How’d you find that girl?” Merle asked casually, grilling the squirrel over the dim fire. The game in those woods were crap but they needed to hunt something before they starved. He blew against the now charred piece of squirrel he cooked, eyebrows raised inquiringly. 

Daryl shrugged. “Some people we came across,” he grunted.

People? More than one, it sounded like. Merle had a feeling his brother killed them, so knowingly, he asks: “You kill’em?” Merle smirked maniacally. 

Daryl shook his head much to Merle’s shock. “Seriously?” He asked incredulously.

He thought he raised his brother to be a tough motherfucker. He sighed inwardly, seems he failed on that front. 

Daryl nodded exasperatedly. “We didn’t need to kill’em Merle.” He rolled his eyes, hunkering down on the log after that long walk from the creek. “I ain’t you. I ain’t gonna put an arrow in their face ‘cause they looked at me funny.”

“That’s the difference between you and me, bro! No questions asked, they’ll get this blade up their ass.” Merle’s smirk grew wider, showing off the little thing contraption Dale made for him. For an old man he sure knew how to work his brain. He strapped a broken machete blade thinking it’ll be put to good use in his hand --or lack thereof. “They kept the girl for ransom or some shit?”

“Nah, they saved her, I guess,” Daryl grunted. “I dun’ know the full story,” he shrugged, leaning on the oak tree behind him. 

“Never even asked?” Merle threw a piece of meat at Daryl.

Daryl caught it effortlessly, chewing into the squirrel eagerly. “I don’t think I’d get a full answer,” he grunted, not with that redhead around.  After eating his portion, he asks: “Got any good game in those woods?”

Merle shook his head, shooting a grimace at the farmhouse. “Not with the uglies hiding. Either scared them all the way or ate all of them. You think Old McDonald will let us hunt his cattle, turn them into a few burgers and some juicy steak?” 

Daryl shook his head. Leave it to his brother to suggest something fucking ridiculous.

“Hey, uh…” Glenn walked up to the brothers nervously, his hands wringing against his wrists. 

“Well lookie here, chinaman giving us rednecks a visit! Aren’t you busy with that farmer girl with the thick ass?” Merle took a swig of his moonshine, his knees bent on a stump, his shit-eating grin brighter than the sun. His grin grew when a downtrodden look crossed the Asian’s face. “Oh, oh, not after you tattled on her, eh? Don’t worry, you’ll get another chance.”

“What do you want, Glenn?” Daryl asked, rolling his eyes at his brother’s crude amusement. 

Merle looked between the two suspiciously. “When were you both on a first name basis?” Merle mutters fell on deaf ears. 

“Rick is calling a meeting about the uh… the barn…” he looked around nervously as if that Maggie girl was about to swoop in on him. “He hoped you guys’ll participate…”

Daryl shook his head. “Ain’t any of our business,” he grunts lazily. 

“I thought so,” Glenn sighed. “Well… see ya.” 

Merle watched the Asian man scurry away. “Wow, they actually want us there? I feel so welcomed!” 

“Shut your bitch ass up, Merle,” Daryl wanted to sleep .

~

Harry raised his brows inquiringly at a worried looking Hermione. Sighing, he lifted his shirt to reveal his healed wound that had taken a few weeks to settle. Splinched wounds were a bitch to handle. Thank Merlin Hermione stashed some of Draco’s potions. Though he was glad the wound started healing, he felt useless those few weeks. Hermione advised him to avoid anything he knew would stress out the wound and thus reset the process. He noticed he couldn’t wield his sword properly, his form was a bit more loose than usual since his right hand was shaking a little due to the wound. Hermione had given him a calming potion and doused him in some dreamless sleep, facilitating the natural healing capability they possessed. 

He felt better compared to before. He tested his strength with a few walkers. He tore into them. Ruthlessly slicing into them with quick swipes and ending them swiftly, jabbing their heads with a full throttled thrust until those hisses stopped. Out of breath, Harry marked the stone he passed by with the coagulated blood pouring the walker. He wiped the blood off his blade with a rag he had stashed in his enchanted pockets, sheathing it back into the basilisk scale scabbard. Typically, he did not kill unless he needed to -- or to release some stress; it felt necessary, however, since he went weeks without doing anything. 

He hated relying on people, especially his friends. 

“Are you okay, Harry?” Hermione’s worried question broke his musings.

Harry nodded, not wanting to cause distress to their clever witch. 

“Alright,” Hermione shot him a small smile. “If the map serves me correct, we will be coming upon a small town just north of us.”  

Being the clever girl she is with both muggle and magical technology, she organized the map in a way they all could understand. There were X’s and O’s marking each individual neighborhood and small towns they looted for anything they could scrounge up. The X’s were the ones they had wiped clean and the O’s meant they were overrun. Overrun meaning it was in enclosed spaces and the exits were too far. It would be a high risk yet high reward since most of them were major grocery shops. She trailed her finger along the path she hopefully marked correctly, leading them to what seemed to be a town in rural Georgia. 

They assumed they arrived in rural Georgia having seen some abandoned farmhouses and barns in the distance. The saddening sight were the animal corpses littered over the fences and some on the floor. They had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. They were defenseless creatures completely and cruelly slaughtered by the insatiable dead. They traversed the road forever on, until Hermione saw something poking its head from the horizon. Hermione espied a tall, dilapidated sign torn down and letters scattered on the pavement. She assumed it was the town she had noted on the map, having seen the Western-style shops of different sizes, and street lights adorning the sides.

Odd, however, when she realized how eerie it felt standing in what essentially could be considered a ‘ghost town’. It didn’t help with the fact the map she had in her hands did not log down the name of this specific town. 

Ron sighed. “Sad, eh?” He stopped for a second to take in the sight. “Shops looked like they got business, yet when all this shit started they all left their hard work behind. I think this is the first time I’ve seen these types of buildings. Bloody hell this looks as old as the Wizarding World,” he joked.

Hermione rolled her eyes “Have you ever heard of themes, Ronald?”  Hermione grimaced as she looked in the window of what seemed to be a small clothing store. 

Blood painted the dusty, dirty window panes. The door was boarded up. ‘Keep Out!’ was painted with the blood, which sent chills down Hermione’s body. She could hear the minute groans from the walkers trapped in the building. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like if she didn’t have her best friends with her; she would probably be trapped in a store, her brain all fuddled, and died. Going off on misadventures with Harry made her contemplate on her own weaknesses. Sure they called her the brightest witch in the Wizarding World, yet… she knew she had many weaknesses. One being she was completely useless under pressure. Honestly, she did not know how Harry and Ron could do it. With time she improved, but seeing this made her remember the fact this whole thing happened suddenly, no one was warned.

Ron had grabbed her hand, watching his girlfriend worriedly. She stood in front of the building in a daze. It disconcerted Ron seeing the normally inquisitive Hermione blankly stare at a door. Hermione turned slightly, acknowledging her boyfriend’s worries. She nodded her head, symbolizing she was okay, which was enough for Ron who placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. He tightened his grip before he let it fall back to her side. He walked back to Harry’s side who was checking their rear.

“ Is she alright? ” Harry asked through their telepathic link.

Ron flashed a small smile at Harry. Even with everything that happened in the guy’s life, Harry remained a good friend towards everyone that deserved it; even that dreadful Ferret, Ron had to mentally admit. “She’s alright.” 

“ Good . We’re losing light. Let’s camp out somewhere. Trust you’ll relay this to Hermione ?” Harry raised a brow.

Ron nodded his head. He turned back to find his girlfriend walking up to them with a smile on her face. 

“I heard, mental link remember?” Hermione snorted at Ron’s scoff. The bastard played him! “Honestly, Ronald,” she patted her boyfriend’s cheeks affectionately. “You were the one who suggested we form the link in the first place.”

“Moment of sheer brilliance that was,” Ron sneered at Harry’s back who remained unperturbed. “How about we camp in those small houses in the far right? Recoup for the night and leave early?”

Harry nodded his head. But he stopped, his head shooting up at the sound of a car pulling up right in front of them. He shook his head at the two to hide behind the building they were near, a sable-roofed post office. Once they followed his directions, he peaked around the corner. A 1987 Jeep parked in front of the post office and two individuals equipped with firearms exited the vehicle. He snapped his fingers and let everything flood into his ears. 

“Hey, sorry I kept it from you,” the younger-looking one had said, the one carrying the pump-action shotgun. 

“Don’t be,” a husky voice reassured. “You did what you thought was right.” Harry noticed the Glock the taller one wielded; he wielded it with experience it seemed. “It just so happens it wasn’t.” 

They snuck into the bar just ahead of them called Hatlin’s Carriage Bar. An old western-style saloon themed bar, fitting in with the other stores. They walked with careful steps, until they reached the opaque windowed door and opened it loudly. 

A tiny gasp shocked Harry out of his observation. He heard pebbles crunching under boots behind him. Snapping his fingers quickly, his eyes stopped glowing. The sounds stopped and everything stabilized around him. Turning, he met two pairs of eyes he did not recognize. Immediately, he unsheathed his sword. He saw that his best friends already had their weapons trained on them. 

“Woah, woah, woah, pal!” An average-bodied individual with olive skin shot his arms in the air as a sign of peace. 

Ron trained his bow at the other man -- a portly man with a beret donned on his bald head. Pausing only slightly before nocking the arrow he had stashed in his quiver, drawing the bow back, aiming at the man’s head. 

“ Pals! I’m sorry for sneaking up on ya, we were just passing by, nothing to worry about. So why don’t you put your weapons down and get a drink at the bar, huh? Drinks on us,” the stranger chuckled with the other man at the stupid joke. 

“ What do we do? ” Ron asked through the mental link. “ I’m up to killing them .” He suggested.

Hermione subtly shook her head. “ We can’t just kill them, Harry ,” Hermione clutched the grimoire she kept close to her chest. It served as an amplifier for her magic, making it much more subtler to cast. An invention she had made herself after studying Ancient Runes in her free time. 

“ Ron ."

Ron nodded, allowing a small fake smile adorn his face. “Well, gents, I don’t know what to tell ya. We’re cautious individuals, you gotta be in these conditions. You get me?” When they nodded, Ron continued, “well how ‘bout that? Drink you say? Haven’t had liquor in quite some time.”

It’s a smart tactic, Ron had to give them that. Lead them to believe they were naïve and kind, only to slice their throats and leave them as walker bait. Two can play at that game. They were cowards. They’re vultures, the lot of them. Ron could see the cogs turning as the man tried to think up something new for their little banter they made for themselves. Ron could lead them on until Harry pulled the trigger.  

“Yeah, yeah,  of course, same here. Just noticed, are you British? The names Dave and the scrawny-looking douchebag here is Tony.” 

“What gave it away? The accent? Born and bred, mate,” Ron grinned sharply. “ I don’t trust them .”

“ Neither do I ,” Harry noticed how Dave kept avoiding his eyes. 

“Well, shit, what are you doing across the pond? Not for the sights, eh? Ain’t much to look at seeing as everything is dying around here.” Dave cracked a chuckle.

Ron gave a humorless chuckle. “No, wouldn’t you like to know. Why don’t you lead us to this bar you promised, hm?”

Dave smirked. “It’s just up ahead. I think your friend over here noticed it, eh?” 

Harry ignored him and walked towards the bar. 

“Not a man of many words, is he?” His question was left unanswered when the other two followed Harry at his side.

 Hermione kept a subtle eye on the strangers, watching them move with them easily, but the disgruntled look this Dave guy had is what caught her attention. 

Bingo.

~

Lo and behold, they found Hershel fiddling with a tumbler filled with some sort of alcohol. Rick wagered it was the whiskey on the bar table. For an abandoned bar, it looked semi-organized just with a blanket of dust over every surface, even some of the beer bottles on the tables. It didn’t seem chaotic or torn down, no one looted the place. The only thing anyone could pilfer was the alcohol in the back, but people needed their wits about them or they'd ended up dead. 

“Hershel,” he let his voice echo through the room while Glenn shut the door quietly. 

“Who’s with you?” The old man asked, his back turned. 

“Glenn.” Rick walked closer, holstering his gun while shooting the Asian man a glance. He advanced forward, footsteps heavy against the dusty hardwood. 

Hershel raised his weary head. “Maggie sent him?”

Rick gave the old man a small smile. “He volunteered,” he adds, “he’s good like that.” He leaned on the bar, watching the man sip the tumbler. “How many have you had?”

“Not enough,” Hershel responded promptly.

Rick glanced at Glenn then back at Hershel. He leaned in closer, his back hunching over so he could remain a good distance from the older man. “Let’s finish this up back at home.” He whispers. “Beth collapsed,” that got Hershel’s attention, he continued, “is in some sort of state. Must be in shock. I think you are too.”

Hershel stared at Rick with those worried blue orbs. “Maggie’s with her?” 

“Yeah, but Beth needs you.” Rick tried.

“What could I do for her? She needs her mother,” Hershel knocked back the whiskey, letting the alcohol burn his throat. “Or rather to mourn like she should’ve done weeks ago. I robbed her of that. I see that now.” He poured another drink, his eyes staring at the wall, avoiding Rick’s probing ones. 

After a few minutes twiddling with his fingers, the old man looked to Rick. “When I first saw you running across my field,” he began, “with your boy in your arms, I had little hope he would survive.”

“But he did.” And thank God he did. Rick wouldn’t know what to do with himself if his boy died in his arms. 

“He did,” Hershel nodded. “When that little girl you folks were looking for all those days and nights came back as if nothing happened; when we lost Otis, your man Shane made it back, and we saved your boy. Those were the miracles that proved to me that they do exist. But that was a sham, a bait and switch.” He shook his head. “I was a fool, Rick, and you people saw that. My daughters deserve better than that.”

Glenn watched the story evolve into a screaming match between Rick and Hershel. Hershel called them a plague, which hurt a little since he believed the man thought better of them. Rick countered by exclaiming he’s owning up now, taking responsibility for the mishap Shane had caused back at the barn. Hershel sat down, defeated, reminiscing on his own stupidity and his own belief that they -- his family -- were just sick and not corrupted by the dead; that they could be cured. He fed his illusions while feeding the rotten husks his family left behind in hopes a cure would be administered soon. He explained the loss of hope he felt in his own beliefs and the miracles God had promised them, telling them:

“There is no hope for any of us anymore.”

Glenn reeled back a little at the powerful statement. Glenn was reminded of Jenner and his attempt at blowing them up, calling everything they’ve gone through useless and hopeless -- they did it for nothing, he said. But Rick didn’t let this one slide, not like before. 

“Look,” Rick growled at the old man who was quickly getting on his nerves. “I’m done. I’m not doing this anymore, cleaning up after you. You know what the truth is? Nothing has changed. Death is death. It’s always been there. Whether it’s from heart attack, cancer, or a walker. What’s the difference? You didn’t think it was hopeless before, did you? Now there are people back at home trying to hang on. They need us, even if it’s just to give them something to go on, even if we don’t believe it ourselves.” He paused and licked his dry lips, “You know what? This isn’t about what we believe anymore. It’s about them!” Them being the family Hershel was all too willing to leave behind. 

Hershel finished another tumbler full of whiskey and placed it on the bar. As he was about to say something, they heard the door open and heard clapping coming from the other side.

“Son of a bitch, they’re alive.” Two grunts gaped in shock only for a redhead to push them aside. 

“That was a powerful speech, mate. Preach!” What brought Rick’s attention was the accent. What is a fella from across the fucking continent doing over here? A redhead, freckled man walked in the room with a huge grin on his face. A compound bow strapped against his back paired with a duffle bag. He walked in easily, followed by a woman with a book clutched against her chest and a man with his sword brandished at his side. “You’d make a good spokesperson, ever thought about that career? Anyway, these two,” he pointed at the two guys eyeing Rick and Glenn as if they were aliens, “owe us a drink. So, would you be kind and get me some of that whiskey?” 

“Honestly, Ronald,” she had the same accent. The woman glanced at them with a small smile stretching on her fair face. A frown replaced it when her attention deviated towards the redhead. “At least introduce yourself before demanding things. You’d think coming from a pureblood family you’d at least learn some degenerate form of manners.”

“Fine, fine, woman, Merlin,” the redhead mutters. Merlin? What the hell was this guy on? “I’m Ron, nice to meet you -- whiskey! Thanks, mate.” 

Despite himself Rick couldn’t help but pour them a drink. Popping a cold one always helped him deal with a stressful situation, or make him forget he’s done so the next day. Rick saluted him. “You two want one?” He offered the woman and the man who looked older than his age.

The sword-bearing man shook his head. Rick noticed he allowed the woman the seat, opting to stand around and observe their surroundings. He seemed awfully polite to be hanging around the other two who kicked back as if they owned the place, besides the redhead who joined the woman by wrapping his arms around her shoulder. When he had offered the drink, the woman also denied politely, slipping the book back into the pouch she carried around with her. 

Rick realized they divided themselves, leaving a clear distinction between the two groups. He could quickly answer the question that popped in his head. Who was with who? The swordsman had the redhead and the woman at his side and hung around on Rick’s left and the other two remained on the right. They were obviously not with each other, they couldn’t make it more clearer. But how did they come in contact with each other? Surely they knew of each other? 

“I’m Dave and that scrawny lookin’ dude is named Tony. Met him on the 1-95 coming out of Philly. I met these three just outside the bar, but I don’t really know their names. What you guys ain’t comfortable with me to give me a name for such lovely faces?” This Dave guy leaned over to pick up the tumbler Rick had filled.

Rick nodded at the reason the two other groups seemed aloof with each other. 

The Asian shot them a quick smile, leaning over the bar. “I’m Glenn. It’s nice to meet some new people.” 

“You’ve already met Ron. I’m Hermione and this is Harry,” she gestured at the man who leaned on the wall on Rick’s left.

“Names Rick Grimes.” He placed a shot for Glenn and one for himself on the bar. Hershel declined by shaking his head at Rick’s offering. 

“Hey, how about you pal? Ain’t going to join us?” Dave asked incredulously.

“I just quit,” Hershel deadpanned.

“You’ve got a unique sense of timing, my friend.” Dave quipped. 

Rick sat down, taking a sip of alcohol. “His name’s Hershel. He lost people today, a lot of them.” Nodding his head along his words, he pinned Dave with an unwavering stare. 

“I’m truly sorry to hear that,” Hermione piped up, her soft voice spoke volumes in everyone’s ears. Rick thought it’s been a long time since anyone remained so… caring. A lot -- like Shane -- toughened up to the point they stripped their civility and donned on new armor. It was a good wake up call, better than the one he received at the hospice. “Lives are precious these days, and having them stripped from us is unfathomable.”

Ron bumped his head against her shoulder offering some form of comfort. Rick gave the couple a smile, sparing a glance at the swordsman. He noticed his green eyes scanning around the room, looking for exits it seemed. Smart. 

“I agree,” the boisterous redhead said calmly. 

“To better days and new friends. And to our dead -- may they be in a better place.” He tapped his glass twice against the wooden table, raising it up before downing the burning alcohol.  Everyone who had a glass did the same, yet Glenn looked hesitant (after the mess at the CDC, Rick couldn’t blame him) and the redhead looked like he ignored whatever Dave was saying.  

Dave leaned over the table looking over at the jukebox in the corner of the room, giving Rick full view of the gun he had holstered in his belt. Amateurs like him would practically blow out their ass if they weren’t careful. The weapon, however, was all too familiar to Rick. Glock pistol, he could tell by both the color and design. It’s a standardized weapon for law enforcement, especially for uniformed officers such as himself. Dave probably got it off of a cop, off a corpse, or he murdered someone for the weapon. The guy noticed his staring and brought the weapon out, fortunately following safety protocol when handling a firearm.

“Not bad, huh?” He held it out for everyone to see. “I got if off a cop.”

“I’m a cop,” Rick challenged.

“This one was already dead,” Dave smirked in amusement. A small tick formed on his eyebrow crease. Disgruntlement maybe?

Nodding, Rick leaned back on the bar. “You fellas are a long way from Europe,” Rick took a sip from his tumbler as he regarded the other group in the same bar. “What drove you guys here to America?”

Ron simply shrugged. “We were stuck here since our flight laid over,” he shook his drink around and placed it on the table. “Gotta make do, you know?”

Rick nodded his head at the answer. “I get you. What about you folks? A little far from Philly.”

Dave chortled. “It feels like we’re a long way from anywhere.” He quips, sitting back and abandoning his drink.

“Well, what drove you south?” Rick asked before taking imbibing more alcohol.

“Well, I can tell you it wasn’t the weather. I must’ve dropped thirty-pounds in sweat alone down here.” Dave rubbed the sweat dripping between his eyes.

“Hah, I wish,” Tony commented with a snort. 

Dave shook his head. “No first it was D.C., I heard there might be some kind of refugee camp but the roads were so jammed, we never even got close. We decided to get off the highways, into the sticks, and keep hauling ass.” He raised his brows in thought, his forehead creasing. “Every group we came across had a new rumor about a way out of this thing.”

“One guy told us there was the coast guard sitting in the gulf, sending ferries to the islands.” Tony adds in with a scoff. 

“The latest was, uh, a rail yard in Montgomery runnin’ trains to the middle of the country -- Kansas, Nebraska…”

Glenn blinked. “Nebraska?”

Rick was also interested.

“Low population, lottsa guns,” Tony smirked.

Glenn nodded, picking up the shot. “Kinda makes sense.”

“You ever been to Nebraska, kid?” Rick could practically see the irritation building in Glenn when David called him kid . “There’s a reason why it’s called a flyover state.”

The only one who laughed at his joke was Tony.

“You know what it sounds like?” Ron rapped his glass against the table in an erratic beat, stopping once their attention was on him. “You’ve met quite a handful of survivors.”

“So?” Dave asked.

“I wonder why you both decide to stick it out as a duo. A group is better than two, you know.” Ron smirked, leaning against the table. Rick narrowed his eyes on the redhead. The guy obviously knew something, yet Rick couldn’t quite fit the pieces together. “Where are you guys staying? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Those your cars out front?” Dave asks the three at the bar. 

Awkwardly, Glenn nodded his head. “Yeah, why?” He adds.

Dave leaned forward. “Those look kinda empty, clean. We’re hold up in ours and I’m betting on my two horses that you ain’t living small like us.” 

Rick didn’t budge.

“Well, we’re thinking of setting up around here. Is it--is it safe?” Dave glanced around.

“It can be,” Dave’s attention shifted towards Glenn. “Uh… although,” the Asian said slowly, “I have killed a couple of walkers around here.” 

“Walkers?” Dave’s smirk was back on his face. “That what you call them?”

Glenn chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah…”

“That’s good,” Dave nodded his head. “I like that. I like that better than lamebrains.”

“More succinct,” Tony added.

“Okay, Tony went to college.”

“For two years.” Tony looked back at Glenn. Glenn tried mustering a grin but it formed into a grimace. 

Glenn nodded his head, while the other two were staring at Dave and Tony. The three hanging about -- neither having joined their conversation sans Ron -- minded their own business, seemingly having a conversation amongst themselves. Kinda freaky, though. They were just staring at each other.

“So--so what? You guys set up on the outskirts or something? That new development?” Dave scratched his nose. 

“A trailer park or something?” Tony added before getting up and hobbling towards the archway nearest to Harry. “A farm?”

“Old McDonald had a farm…” Dave trailed off as he watched Tony take a piss in the corner. “You got a farm?”

“That is disgusting,” Hermione had to look away. “At least do your business outside.”

Glenn took a brave glimpse at the one named Harry, his jaw was tense as he stared at Tony urinating in the back of him. 

“Gotta show off my goods for the lady,” Tony said suggestively, glancing behind him to catch a glimpse at Hermione. He had the audacity to wink at her. 

“If you say anything else, mate,” Ron’s eyes sharpened as Tony pulled up his pants. “I got a half a mind to shove these arrows up your ass.” He growled threateningly as he was held back by Harry. Glenn didn't know a jaw could be that tense, seeing as though the man was nonplussed for the most part.

“Hang on a second, hang on a second, let’s calm down,” Dave nodded his head when Ron rolled his eyes and Hermione drowned herself in Ron’s cardigan. “This farm-- it sounds pretty sweet. Don’t it sound sweet Tony? Truth is we’ve got some buddies back at camp looking for somewhere to hunker down, you know? What about some southern hospitality, huh? We can pool our resources, our manpower--”

“Look, I’m sorry. That’s not an option.” Rick interrupted, knowing where this was going. The fact they kept information from them told Rick everything. They led them to believe they were just a duo, which was a lot different compared to a full group. They could barely ration out stuff without relying on Hershel’s hospitality, nevermind feeding more faces. 

“What about you guys, huh?” Dave’s attention shifted towards Harry, who stiffened. Rick narrowed his eyes on the silent man. “You guys staying anywhere?”

“Not an option, mate,” Ron shrugged his shoulders. 

Rick noticed Harry hasn’t spoken a single word since they started exchanging each other’s names. The man kept to himself, letting the redhead do the talking while he kept a silent observation on the two strangers trying to haggle themselves in their group. When Dave stared at Harry, the man grew stiff as a board. Why?

“You guys are something else,” Dave started scratching his forehead crease where Rick noticed the small tick reforming. “I thought -- I thought we were friends.”

“Friends we know nothing about,” Ron pointed out.

Rick nodded in agreement. 

“We got people we gotta look out for too.” Dave pleaded calmly. “You fellas don’t know what we’ve had to go through out there, the things we’ve had to do.”

“Name one thing, I bet I can relate to at least three of them.” Ron’s grin grew. It reminded Rick and Glenn about a certain redneck, who had the same shit-eating grin on his face whenever something bad happened to the group. 

This time Dave stared at Harry again. It was different this time. Harry stared back calmly, his penetrating gaze made Dave uncomfortable -- made him shift in his seat. Harry was no longer stiff, no longer tense. Instead he was completely mollified, blinking boredly at Dave who tried cajoling him with a relatable story. Dave sighed, giving up on trying to get through to Harry, and shifted his attention towards Rick.

“Since we don’t know each other, why don’t we take a hayride down to this farm of yours? Maybe we can get to know each other a little bit more.” Dave suggested. “So that I can kill you and take your farm.”

Rick stood up and Glenn’s eyes widened.

“Dave--!” 

Glenn was a little frightened by Harry’s quick reflexes. He advanced forward, blocking Glenn from Tony's line of sight. Tony tried to repair such a slip-up by wielding his shotgun and aiming it at Harry. Everyone in the room stopped and stared at Tony as a blade sung it's piercing song in the empty bar. Harry had stabbed his blade right through Tony’s mouth. No one said a word, everything was quiet aside from Tony choking on the blade. The inhabitants in the bar heard Tony’s guttural squelches, blood spraying from his mouth. He tried his hardest to pull the sword out from his mouth only for Harry to squeeze it a little bit tighter, driving the blade deeper until they could see it on the other end of the portly man’s head. To make matters worse, Harry didn’t simply pull the blade back. No, he made it excruciating to look at. He grabbed the hilt with both of his hands, and pushed it until Tony’s head was split in two. The man was already dead by the time Harry stabbed the sword through his head, lifelessly standing upright and arms falling back to their original position. Glenn whimpered when half of Tony's head fell on the floor. Harry then kicked the body back so it could stumble against the wall in the pool of urination the man left before his untimely demise.  

“Tony!” Dave gaped at Harry. The man didn't seem like he regretted killing Tony in cold blood. “You fucking-- ARGH! ” 

Dave let out a painful screech when Ron shot an arrow at his shoulder, incapacitating him from grabbing the gun and shooting at anybody he could aim at. Dave pulled the arrow out of his shoulder, throwing it to the ground and started to feel out for his gun. Rick quickly shot the man’s head when Dave made to lunge for his fallen weapon.  

Rick looked to Harry skeptically, watching him stab the other half of Tony’s head before reanimation settled in. He didn't know what to think of the man. To see a cold-blooded murder happen right in front of him -- even if it was justified -- did not bode well for Rick. He didn't know if he could trust him let alone fight with the guy. Hershel watched the man with wide eyes, not believing what he just experienced. Glenn watched with morbid fascination, a bit bothered by the fact that Hermione and Ron weren’t as affected at the torturous method Harry possessed when killing his victims.

Harry’s face remained impassive, wiping the blood off with the cloth he grabbed out of his pocket. He stopped after a few moments, interrupted it seemed. Rick doesn't know if it was the lighting in the bar or something else 'cause the man's eyes were glowing.

“There’s more,” were the first words out of his mouth.

ooo

Look me in my eyes

tell me everything’s not fine.

Oh, the people ain’t happy

and the river has run dry.

You thought you could go free, 

but the system is done for.

Chapter Text

“So, who’ll be the poor sod that talks to the ferret?” Ron bit the inside of his cheek because he knew he wouldn’t be up to the task. Quite literally. They might tolerate each other’s existence, but there are times they would rather slit each other’s throats. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Why do you bother asking if you already know the answer, Ronald?” said the only witch in the room with that same tone she used when her boys did something incredibly stupid. Which, unfortunately, happens all the time when Ron is involved. Or in particular situations when her boyfriend spoke out the obvious, for which Hermione could not help that exasperated sigh from leaking out of her lips. “To this day, I will never understand your disdain for the Malfoy family.” 

“Well, love, we gotta take a look waaaaaaaay --” he gesticulated with his hands to prove his point while he drew out the word way longer than necessary. “-- back when, before we were even thought of.”

And there was the sarcasm her lovely boyfriend falls back on in times of distress. 

“You’re truly the spitting image of your twin brothers,” she says fondly. The twins, who have proved themselves to be rather dangerous against the dead, were the ones that sadly rubbed off on Ron. She counted it as a win, she doesn’t see herself with a Percy clone; too much of  stick up the arse in Hermione’s opinion, and it said a lot. 

Ron smirked at that. “I’ll take that as a compliment, milady!” His beautiful prismarine eyes softened.  He leaned in closer to press a small kiss on her cheek and a quick nuzzle against her nose. “I’ll be close by. Make sure to set a privacy ward before contacting Malfoy. Don’t want these muggles come sniffin’ around.”

“They’re not dogs, Ronald,” she admonished but nodded before quickly drawing in another kiss from her boyfriend. All this time, she’s been worrying about Harry, she had forgotten about her boyfriend; she’s been focusing on the maps for weeks, not once giving her boyfriend much needed attention. And it only took this very moment for her to realize how attention starved Ron must have been on the road. That’s why she cherished this moment as much as she could.

Because, she doesn’t know how long it will be until the next. If they are lucky there will be a next time . 

Once Ron exited the tent through the flaps, Hermione raised both her wand and free hand. “ Muffliato ,” she felt the soft thrum the charm gave out once the ward had been set in place. 

Sighing to herself, she raised the magic mirror and greeted Draco Malfoy with a tentative smile. “Greetings, Malfoy.”

“ Granger . Where’s Harry? ”

~

“The hell do you mean there’s more?” Rick growled at Harry, who remained nonplussed. “You with them?!”

Harry’s attention on the door did not waver even with a Glock so close to his head. His friends, however, did not take the subtle threat easily. Hermione had her eyes trained on Rick and Ron flanked to Harry’s side. 

“Answer me!”

Ron sneered. “What makes you think we’d run with those two?” Ron scowled a little at the thought. Never in his life, just never . A small smirk appeared on Ron’s face when Rick hesitated. “Exactly. So why don’t you take your meaty hands off my friend mate unless you want this arrow over here between your eyes.” He pulled his bowstring for added measure, making good on his threat. “What’s your answer, Mr. Sheriff?” 

In the corner of Ron’s eyes, he espied Hershel and Glenn straightening their posture. This seems to be way out of their element while the officer over there looked right at home, waving his gun all willy-nilly. He did not want to take them seriously, oh Merlin no , but the man was getting on his nerves with the horseshit being spewed from his bearded mouth. The man ran on assumptions and going on like that would only lead to getting himself or others killed. 

Ron noted his best friend did not seem fazed in the slightest, having been put in these situations before by the Death Eaters; and subsequently, being tortured as punishment. After that, this seemed like a cake walk for him. He easily sidestepped the barrel of Rick’s gun in favor of the window he seemed fixated on. He raised his hands and started a countdown with his fingers. 

Sad part is, Ron and Hermione were the only ones who got the gesture.

3… 2… 1…

“Get down.” A simple, quiet command sent chills down everyone’s spine.

His friends’ reacted first while the other three were hesitant, they saw nothing! Then they heard the sound of several tires running over the gravel outside and lights flooding through the windows. With an ‘oh shit!’, they flew themselves on the floor, straightening themselves into a prone position and looked to Harry, who had his index finger against his lips signaling them to be silent. The chatter outside started out as white noise, then it got closer and closer until Rick could hear it much clearly. There were many voices, all of them men.

They were inquiring about the whereabouts of the two deceased corpses (Tony and Dave) littering the bar’s floor. To make matters worse, some even started yelling for Tony and Dave. All the yelling was bound to catch some unwanted attention from the dead roaming around the outer edges of town, especially with all the ruckus going on outside. Hermione garnered everyone’s attention by pointing at the red door that led through the employee entrance right at the very back of the bar. Ron and Harry looked at each other and nodded in unison, both standing up once the car lights receded.

Ron gave his backside a quick glance, making doubly sure the muggles weren’t snooping. “ Alohomora ,” he tapped his wand against the doorknob. A small, dim light flashed over the doorknob, indicating the charm took effect. The locks immediately unlocked. With a soft push, Ron opened the door and gestured for everyone to head on outside. 

The first was Glenn, who was quick and checked their corners. He gave a thumbs-up to signal the all clear sign, but a shocked bandit caught their attention. 

“Hey! Hey! There’s people here!” yelled the bandit. If the walkers weren’t attracted to the yelling, then they were attracted by the gun shot that whizzed past Ron by a mere breath away from his face. Of course, it also attracted the attention from the other bandits, all of them yelling to get into cover. 

Ron swore under his breath and quickly incapacitated the bandit by letting his arrow fly into the man’s leg. The bandit’s scream sealed his fate as a walker began chomping on his neck, peeling the skin and chunks of muscle from their rightful place. Ron watched the walkers ravish their meal, tissues and pieces of flesh dangling from their rotten teeth. More walkers descended on the man and began chewing on the parts they could get to, all while the man was still kicking and screaming. After his fascination died down, Ron checked if Glenn was okay; if you count keeling over the balcony ready to puke as okay. 

The redhead felt his arm being tugged. Of course, it was the ever so merciful officer. “Kill him. Put him out of his misery!” Rick hissed, wincing at the guttural screams coming from the bandit. 

Ron shook his head. “Bloody hell, are you an idiot?” He hisses at the stupidity of this man. This is no time for mercy. “We use that as a distraction so we can leave! Hermione, stay behind me alright? Harry, stay on our rear and keep any walkers away from us! That man ain’t gonna be a savory meal for long. We gotta move, now!”

Harry and Hermione nodded. Harry brandished his sword, Hermione following his example by brandishing the dagger she fashioned from a Basilisk Fang.  Ron smirked at his friends and bolted down the pathway with Glenn close behind. 

The trek wasn’t easy. They had to dodge both open and expansive areas because being caught out by bandits with better positions would only lead to unnecessary casualties; Ron could see some were even stationed on the roofs with marksman rifles and semi-automatics. Position-wise they had the advantage, and it did not help that the bandits knew they were in the vicinity and therefore alert. So, Ron stuck with the darkness that clung under the awnings and the corridors, hoping they could remain in stealth before they were caught out by the blinding light those bandits brought with them. 

Ron was about to walk further into town when he noticed a horde of walkers walking right at them. “Shit,” he cursed. “Turn around and lead them to them .” He demanded, skirting around the abandoned cars and other clutter. He points to the little outpost the bandits made for themselves. “Hopefully it’ll give them a big enough distraction so we can get the fuck outta here!”  

Harry made sure no walkers were biting any of them tonight. With a quick swipe of his sword, those heads were flinging left and right; he even tripped a few, which only served to stagnate the horde. He gave a few strong kicks, sending those lifeless corpses ragdolling deeper into the horde, pushing some walkers back. This allowed some distance from getting their bodies chewed off. 

Sadly there was still no time to stop running. 

“Oh shit! Biters! Biters!” Sounded like they finally noticed the horde. The sound of cars wheeling down the dirt path was heard as the group ran, Ron leading the charge. Merlin, they took no time to leave the rest to bite the dust.

“Randall!” Was yelled by a backwater accent. 

Another human-like scream had Ron scrunching his eyebrows What the fuck? A yelp then a crash was heard above him. Upon closer inspection, someone fell off the roof. There! Just a few meters away from him, a teenage boy was screaming for help, his left calf impaled by the pointed-end of the metal fence. Ron shook his head when Glenn was looking between their positions, having already seen the walkers flooding into the area due to all the ruckus from these folks.

“What about Randall?” a bandit yelled from their car.

“Just leave him!” More cars drove down the dirt path, crashing into a few walkers. One unfortunate car crashed into the heart of the herd and swarmed them, their guttural screams could be heard as the group continued to run to the makeshift rendezvous point. 

Harry’s head snapped to Rick who went another way. He noticed Rick going back to help the teenager who had impaled his leg after crashing down the rooftop. Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, both of which were shaking their heads knowing full well what Harry was about to do. 

“Idiot!” Ron muttered right after Harry bolted for Rick and immediately severed the oncoming walker.

 A couple more dropped in front of Harry, their heads bouncing on the floor. He kicked a few chests and severed more limbs while Hershel and Rick fumbled with the boy’s leg.

Rick’s eyes widened when Harry’s blade impaled the walker right behind him, and, with morbid fascination, watched as Harry severed the entire body in half. Harry, upon close inspection, looked exhausted but still ready to assist. “Please! Help me help him!” Rick begged. 

“Ple-please! Help… help!” the teenager begged, his watery eyes swelling from all the crying he’s done due to the pain. “Please… please… please… please… please!” 

The boy seemed to realize Harry looking at his leg, then his eyes shot to the broadsword Harry had gripped in his hands. “No -- please! Please don’t! Please don’t!” He begged through the excruciating pain. “Please… please…”

Harry inhaled sharply and let his blade crash down on the lad’s legs. Everyone in the vicinity could hear the sharp tear as Harry severed the impaled leg. Rick could hear the bone crunching having winced at the sound and sight. The excruciating shriek coming from the boy had everyone wincing, while said boy promptly fainted from the shock. He looked to Rick, who nodded reluctantly, and helped Harry carry the teenager to the car.

“We need to hurry. I fear Harry has severed a nerve,” Hershel said to Rick as they got into the car, laying the boy down on the back seat. “Cover his wound as best you can, Glenn! Hurry! He may not make it to the farm, Rick!”

“We’ll try!” Rick exclaimed, placing Randall’s prone body on the backseat. 

“Are you three following us?” Glenn asked hurriedly. 

“We don’t got much of a choice, mate!” Ron exclaimed as he finished hot-wiring the car the bandits left behind. “We’ll follow close behind you! Just go!” 

Rick and Hershel nodded, getting into their cars and revved it to life. Before any walkers could grapple onto whatever they could reach, Glenn shot a few with his shotgun. Once they were far enough away, Ron regarded Harry and tapped his wand on his shoulder. 

“Let’s get going!” Ron patted Harry’s back and led his girlfriend to the car, an arm wrapped around her quivering form. 

Harry nodded after he impaled a walker, which served to trip some behind it. He had to kill a few before he could enter the car, but once he did, he relaxed some and watched Ron drive them from the infested town. 

Ron groaned. “What the fuck did we get ourselves into?” He asked, eyes following after Rick’s car. 

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Hermione whispered, shaking her head.

Harry remained silent, his green eyes looking elsewhere. 

~

“ Granger. Where’s Harry?” Draco’s chilling voice sent shivers down Hermione’s spine, not like she’ll ever admit it to Malfoy. 

Hermione bit her lip. Usually, Harry was always with Hermione when they updated Draco. Somehow and for some odd reason, Harry’s presence stabilized Draco’s behavior. After his father’s death, Draco became a bit clingy with Harry, which annoyed Ron to no end. She does not know the full backstory behind Draco’s growing attachment to Harry, but she cannot help but wonder.

“He’s out.” Hermione winced at her own vagueness. She knows Malfoy dislikes vagueness since it gets them killed more often than not. “He’s currently with the leaders of this group of muggles. Though I highly doubt Harry is doing much talking.” She amended her mistake.

Hermione could hear Draco’s sneer from his voice alone. “ Why is he with muggles in the first place? ”

“Ran into them at a town nearby. Two muggle men caught us near the entrance of said town, and invited us down at the bar. We all knew something was up, but we played like we were naive  and followed them like lost ducklings. From there we met Hershel, Rick, and Glenn, who camp out here, in Hershel’s farmland. One of the muggle men exposed their twisted intentions of usurping this land for their own gain, which led to their deaths. Unfortunately, we did not know they had more incoming before Harry warned us. Luckily, we escaped without casualties. Well…”

“Lucky bastard,” muttered Draco. “ Well, what, Granger? ”

“There was one casualty but it is hardly relevant.” Hermione waved it off as if it was nothing.

“ Tell me .”

~

“Why have we stopped?” Ron opened the door, the palm of his right hand on the passenger’s window. “What happened?”

“Randall lost a lot of blood. We have to put him down. I don’t get it though, Randall wasn’t bit but Rick --” Glenn winced at Randall’s exposed wound. “God you don’t get used to that.”

“You’d get used to it,” Ron sighed, he watched Hershel place a pillow on the kid’s head. The older man prayed to the holy trinity and nodded to Rick. “You don’t blame Harry?” Ron’s sibilant question garnered Glenn’s attention, after the fact Rick shot the kid.. 

Glenn gawked, Ron looked unperturbed; maybe, he thought, he looked just like that when Harry sliced Tony’s head in half. The asian clears his throat nervously. “Not like he had much choice anyway, we’d get eaten if he didn’t --uh… cut off his leg.” Glenn shrugged and winced at Ron’s blank stare. “He still kinda freaks me out with what happened to Tony and all…”

“As long as you folks don’t blame my friend then we’re all good.” Ron shrugged, walking closer to see the damage dealt. Blinking at the spot where Randall’s one leg must’ve been, he winced. “Sheesh, Harry did a number on him.”

“Your friend did sever a nerve and he lost a lot of blood on the road. He won’t be much but a corpse if we were to continue.” Hershel looked pained at the fact they might have to leave the poor boy’s corpse on the roadside. “I fear we don't have much of a choice but to leave him.”

“Do what you must…” Ron shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. He turned his chest towards them, raising a brow at their concerned stares. “Why are you both looking at me like that?”

Hershel cleared his throat awkwardly. “Are you sure your friend is… stable?” Hershel tried, he really did, not to sound like a total asshole. But given he questioned Harry’s stability, well, Ron didn’t take it lightly. He never did when it came to Harry. 

“Never assume anything of my mate after only a few occurrences, aight?” Ron said none too politely. “He’s shouldered a lot more than you ever could in your lifetime, Hershel. So please, save me from these pleasantries and ask what you really want.”

Hershel cleared his throat again, his eyes a bit wide. He didn’t expect such an answer from the redhead. He was also a bit sheepish since Ron did point out his obvious mistake. “The stunt he pulled last night…”

“Saved Glenn’s life,” Ron interjected. “Without it, your guy would look like a human sponge.”

“And we appreciate that, we do.” Rick tried to amend. It only furthered Ron’s obvious distaste for the man since he had waved a gun in Harry’s face just last night. “But we don’t know if we can trust him around other people.”

“What makes you believe we are coming with you?” It was Hermione who interjected with Harry close behind. Ron smirked a little. Hermione was always a spitfire, especially when she was defending her friends. “Your obvious lack of trust in Harry says quite a lot. If you don’t trust Harry, you don’t trust us. Where he goes, we go.” 

“Survival is best with numbers…” Glenn would deny he squeaked when Harry’s eyes met his. 

“It may be so, but trust goes a long way.” Hermione shook her head disappointedly. “Once we settle everything, we will go our own way. We’ll drop off the car at your base and we’re off.”

“Do you folks have somewhere to stay?” Hershel asked unsurely. 

“We don’t stay long in one place. Attracts too much attention,” Ron wrapped Hermione in his arms, showing full support of her idea. He didn’t trust easily, nor did the rest of his friends, so he sure as hell ain’t gonna to trust Rick and his group. “You’ll have more use for the car anyway, we prefer going on foot.”

“It’s dangerous though, going on foot…” Glenn tried. These were the only humans he’s ever come across besides his own group, he just couldn’t bear it if they ended up dead the next day due to their confidence. “You might run into a horde, maybe even Randall’s group… those guys ain’t gonna take it lightly that we killed four of their own…”

“The last two were unintentional, the other two had it coming,” Ron muttered, earning a smack against his shoulder. “We’ll be fine. We can deal.”

“Why don’t you guys just stay with us until you guys recover?” Glenn suggested, or insisted in Ron’s eyes. “You guys must be exhausted with everything that happened last night…”

“Glenn, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Rick muttered. 

Glenn shot a glare at the officer, surprising the man. Ron had to hold back a snort at the man’s audacity. “Why? Tell me why, Rick. Is it ‘cause you don’t trust Harry? 

“It’s not only that. We gotta keep in mind Shane is not himself right now, he’s gonna lash out if we bring in more people.” Rick stated as if it was fact. The obvious discord in the group spoke volumes amongst the other three standing in front of them. “Look, I know you care for them, you got a big heart Glenn but Shane’s just…”

Hershel interjected. “I think it's up to me who has a say in this, not the man who caused too much destruction on my land.” Hershel recalled, a light entering his eyes when Ron snorted. “And I say let them rest, they helped us when they could’ve left us to die.”

“We don’t want to impose. We insist, we would rather drop off the car and then be on our way,” Hermione assured. She bit her lips from curling into a frown when that stubborn little tick on Hershel’s face twitched a little. It reminded her of her stubborn grandfather, who’s opinions followed him to the grave. So instead of arguing with the old man, she turns to her boyfriend. “Ron…”

Ron shrugged at Hermione’s look of desperation. “Look, we don’t trust you, you don’t trust us. What makes you think we ain’t just gonna take that land of yours right from under ya?”

“You wouldn’t be able to take on all of us,” Rick scoffed. 

“And you would’ve just left us to die.” Hershel added.

Ron scoffed at Rick and gave him a nonplussed grin. “Bet on that mate?” Ron winked. He turns to Hershel. “Harry has a ‘saving people’ thing and not everyone deserves it.”

“Then why even bother with us in the first place?” Rick asked angrily.

“Because no matter what, Hermione and I trust Harry.” Ron smirked as if the answer was obvious. “Something you all lack in each other, unfortunately.” The tension building between the three was almost palpable. 

Hermione nodded in agreement. “Yes, what Ron says is true. If Harry didn’t try and help Randall last night, we would’ve just left you all to die. Tony may not have deserved Harry’s rather brutal execution, but the consequences would’ve been too severe if he were to let him live long enough to do something. There is no one we would ever trust that isn’t Harry. I may not approve of everything Harry does, but we know he has our best interests in mind.”

“And overall, he doesn’t really care if you have an opinion or not he’ll do what he wants.” Ron spared Rick a glance while flicking the arrowhead between his fingers. 

“So what happens now?” Glenn piped in after a slow, awkward silence descended over them with Rick glaring at Ron and Hershel contemplated. 

“We rest,” Glenn almost squeaked as Harry’s dark, deep voice answered his question. The man had a really deep voice and it sorta terrified him. Sparing a timid glance at the much taller man, Glenn noticed those toxic green eyes staring right at him. “We’ll stay with you until we recuperate.”

Hermione sighed. Leave it to Harry to go against his own rules. “If we’re not imposing, of course,” Hermione amended for Harry’s lack of manners. She nudged Harry’s large arms with her elbow for good measure. 

“Aw man… why?” Ron whined incredulously. It was a bit out of character for Harry to easily accept staying with others. Okay, a bit too out of character is an understatement, Harry trusted no one outside of his own circle. 

‘We’re all exhausted. You could barely stay awake on the road, ’ was Harry’s curt reply in his head which had Ron groaning and Hermione trying to hold in her giggle. ‘ Besides, we’re only staying for the night. ’  

“You guys are welcome to stay on the farm. Might be a little tight for space but we’ll make do.” Hershel sent Harry a wary glance. “I sure do hope you won’t ever need to use that sword of yours, son.”

“If you don’t give him a reason to,” Ron sent the old man a playful grin and wrapped his arm around his girlfriend, holding her close to his chest. “We’ll pitch a tent, we don’t want to stay too long.”

Ron grinned as Harry nodded his head. He began twirling his broadsword effortlessly around his body, sheathing it in the protective scabbard he acquired from the goblins; he then stood a lot straighter and placed his right palm on the pommel of the sword, his toxic green eyes regarding the three other survivors in front of him.  Ron shook his head at his friend, sometimes he forgot Harry could be petty when he wanted to be. 

“That was bad ass,” Ron caught Glenn muttering in the background. 

“We promise we’ll be outta your hairs by tomorrow,” Ron gave Hershel a thumbs-up, leading Hermione into the passenger seat. 

“But Shane--” Rick tried to protest but was ignored by a firm Hershel. 

“The weather is getting colder. You sure y’all don’t want to stay inside with the rest of us? We can squeeze you guys in.” Hershel asked. A tent could help with their space issue, seeing they had to house fourteen people. But a tent pales in comparison to a warm bed. 

Hermione nodded. “That's all we need.”

“If you’re so sure, let’s get going…” Glenn spared Harry a glance before walking to the car with Rick already much ahead. He stormed to their car and slammed the door closed.

~

“ I’m surprised Harry spoke ,” Draco mused indifferently. “ Do you trust them ?”

“Definitely not,” Hermione’s immediate reply garnered a chuckle from the pompous blond wizard. “They don’t even trust each other let alone the leaders they have on board.”

“ Interesting, ” was all Draco said. 

“Is there anything on your end, Malfoy?” 

Draco nodded. He sighed and let his hands drag down his face. “ The Aurors have put up preventative wards to combat against the dead. And the professors are relegating the students deeper into the dungeons just in case there is a breach within Hogwarts. It is actually pretty brilliant, they tampered with the wards in order to adjust its most powerful capability: to prevent anyone with ill intent through. But the problem was the intent the ward measures before allowing anyone through. Since the dead are dead , there is really no way of knowing if they hold ill intent. Like muggles, the dead do not have any magic and therefore cannot trigger the ward, and there is a lot of questions and no answers on if the dead have any sort of intent.”

The flimsy thing about wards is the fact they are an archaic piece of magic. It’d require a bit of imagination to get such an archaic process to bend to their will. She didn’t really think the aurors had any to start with in all honesty, which is a bit presumptuous of her. But given her history with them... “So the wards prevent the dead from entering Hogwarts?” She asked instead. 

“ Yes. The downside to the ward, however, is that it prevents anyone from entering or exiting the premises. In order to do so, they will have to shut down the entire ward and build it anew. And mind you Granger, it took a good twenty aurors and all of our professors combined to create the ward. ”

It made sense. The more complicated you want your magic to be, the more powerful it becomes. In return, it requires more magic in order to take effect. In theory, it’d be a lot easier if Harry were there to provide his seemingly endless supply of magic, feeding it into the ward may also amplify the effects. Though since the wards completely shut everyone out, how are they getting food? “So how are you all getting food?” Curious, very curious, she thought. 

“ Think Granger, we are not the only magical kind inhabiting Hogwarts.” Draco drawled. Okay, there still seems to be a bit of hostility between them. But Hermione could appreciate it was exasperation and not his usual condescension.

“The House-elves!” If Hermione wasn’t in front of Malfoy, she would have smacked her face. How could she be so stupid ?! Now she gets why Draco said to use her head, because it obviously wasn’t where it belonged. “How are they foraging for food?”

“ Hogsmeade is still running and has the same wards around their area. I assume the house elves use it to stock up on food. They also said they were thinking of starting a farm nearby. Fortunately, the other sentient creatures within the Forbidden Forest are also offering some of their food for us to feed hundreds of students. It’s a collective effort really. ”

“That’s good. I’m glad everyone is working together,” Hermione smiled at the thought. She didn’t possess a good opinion over the wizarding public, but she is glad to know they pulled their heads out of their arses and started working together . “What about you? How is everyone else?”

“ Everyone is doing something . I’m helping Professor Slughorn with his potions class and creating a plethora of Pepper-Up potions for the aurors. Lovegood is helping Madam Pomfrey in the medical ward; and Longbottom is aiding Professor Sprout and setting up Devil Snare traps in case the dead do besiege the castle. ”

“How is Teddy?” She whispers. She knew Harry would appreciate the news about his cub. 

Draco smiled at the mention of the little cub. “ He spends most of his time with his grandmother but overall he is doing well. ”

“Harry will be happy to hear that,” Hermione was grateful there was good news this time. “Is there anything else?”

“ Yes ,” this time, Draco's misty blue eyes hardened. “ The headmistress will be sending Luna, Neville, and I to your position in a week. ”

“Why?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“ I don’t know Granger. But our usual solemn headmistress was quite weary this time around. She probably wants you three back in the safety of Hogwarts . However, do take my answer with a grain of salt. I do not know .” 

“We can’t guarantee we will be here in the same position for a week, Malfoy,” she says in defeat. “We’re leaving at the break of dawn..” 

“ I know that, Granger, I’m not dull. ” Draco deadpanned. “ The headmistress will contact you for your coordinates and will advise you to not move for the remainder of the week until the others and I arrive.” 

“Is this about Dolohov? Does she think we cannot handle him?” She had to ask.

“ Like I said Granger, I do not know. Dolohov is crafty and smart when he needs to be, he was in Voldemort’s inner circle when the demon was still alive if you don’t remember. He was and still is a ruthless killer; but what makes it worse is that he’s smart and slippery. If he is the one that has caused this, it would be a breakthrough for the Unspeakables. But if he isn’t, then we focus all of our efforts into working for a cure or something to never worry about a bite or a scratch ever again.”

“ It doesn’t explain why you three are required to help us. I would think--”

“ Arrogance isn’t becoming of you, Granger. You three are indeed capable of tracking down Dolohov and demanding answers, but more hands on the project would facilitate the process. We do not even know if Dolohov is anywhere across the pond anymore let alone still alive. The man could easily hide his magical signature, so tracking spells wouldn’t work against him. With our collective effort, tracking him down and ripping him open for answers will be much easier to attain. Do you get what I am saying, Granger?”

Hermione sighed. “I understand.” 

“ I expect you will notify Harry and Weasley about this .” Draco gave a subtle nod before disappearing from the mirror, leaving no room for argument.

~

“Heard we got some newbies with us today. The sheriff caught ya?” 

Ron raised an inquisitive red brow at a bald headed redneck with a grin plastered on his face. “Whot’s it to ya mate?”

Merle’s eyebrows ascended into his non-existent hairline. “Ah shit it's that hoity-toity accent, whazzit? British!” 

“Wow, you cracked the case on this one Sherlock, I’m proud,” Ron congratulated sarcastically. “Like I asked, whot’s it to ya mate?”

“Nothin’ nothin’. Just wanted to see what got soldier over there all worked up,” Merle chuckled easily at the expense of Shane, who was currently glaring at the tree. 

“Ah, guard dog over there? He’s been growling at us since we arrived. He’s been barking at Harry for answers but he ain’t gonna give it to’em.” Merle laughed at Ron’s condescending grimace aimed at Shane. “So what’s with this group? Are you all together?”

“You ever heard of survival in numbers man?” Merle asked with the same shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Yeah and I call it bullshit,” Ron muttered. “It’s kinda obvious you all don’t trust each other, why stay?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, pumpkin.” 

Ron shot a glare at Merle. “Oh sorry, my mistake ya fuckin’ knob.”

Merle stared at Ron for a brief moment before chortling deeply. “I like you, new guy.”

“Ah, I felt my heart flutter. I’m glad to be validated by a knob.” Ron deadpanned, garnering another boisterous laugh from the redneck. 

“Man after my own heart. Names Merle.” Merle greeted, leaning against the tree nearest to him. 

“Ron,” he said curtly. “You staying with them?”

“In that house over there? Nah too stuffy. Got Cali girl up the duff and the fuckers don’t even like me so I stay here with my brother. Where’s that bastard by the way?”

Ron shrugged uncaringly. 

“Daryl!”

Ron blinked. He recognized that name, but where from? 

“What, you irritating fuck?!” 

Oh, it’s this redneck fuck. 

“Get yer ass over here! Meet the newbies.”

“The fuck you mean newbies?” Ron raised an inquisitive brow at the squirrels slung over the new redneck’s shoulders. Daryl’s brows skyrocketed into his hairline. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Merle’s eyes squinted. “You two know each other? Why am I always in the dark, little brotha!?” 

“We got dragged here by your asian friend,” Ron answered. “Didn’t really have much of a choice, Harry agreed.”

“The fuck? I didn’t know you bend over for your leader, pumpkin.”

“You try going against Harry, see if you’re still alive.” Ron threw Merle a smirk. “You’ll be the first to bend over.. You got nothin’ on my mate, knob.” 

“Oh fuck there’s two of them,” Daryl muttered and shook his head. 

Merle gave a saccharine smile. “Wishful thinkin’ pumpkin.”

“It ain’t wishful if it's the truth, ya knob.” Ron shot back. “How’s the girl?” He asked Daryl nonchalantly.

“Wait, wait, wait! Are you the one who saved that little girl’s ass?” Merle asked incredulously. 

“Not me, Harry,” Ron pointed at the man leaning against the farthest tree with Shane trying to size him up. 

“Shit, I see why you bend over for him…” Merle commented. 

Ron snorted. Harry’s biceps were bunched up together. Years of arduous labor with the addition of Quidditch, transformed the scrawny boy into a sculpted man. If Ron wasn’t smitten with Hermione, he’d bat for the same team and salivate over Harry too, given how fucking good he looks with those piercing green eyes and dark hair. He sneered at the thought. Merlin, he became like Draco. 

“That was pretty fucking gay Merle,” Daryl smirked at his brother who flipped him off. 

“Shut the fuck up, you squirrel fuckin’ cunt.” Merle spat. 

Ron and the redneck siblings spotted Hermione walking at them with a troubled face. Merle whistled at the curvy girl while Daryl rolled his eyes at his brother. That stupid man will get himself killed if the glare the redhead shot at Merle was anything to go by. The glare soften when it glanced over at the woman walking at them with determination.

“What’s got you troubled, love?” 

Hermione straightened herself up and held her head high. “The ferret will be accompanying us soon.” 

The couple ignored the raised brows being shot around the field from the rednecks in favor of each other. Hermione watched with bated breath as a series of emotions played on Ron’s face and it finally settled on, to put it aptly, anger. 

“ What?! ” 

~

“Harry!” Sophia cried out as soon as she saw the familiar person leaning on the tree. 

“Who’s Harry, Sophia?” asked the ever so curious Carl. He trailed after Sophia, following her every foot step. 

“He’s the one who saved me silly!” Sophia giggled. “Harry!” She waved her arms frantically in the air, Carl was afraid it might fly off.  

Carl looked ahead and spied a man leaning on the tree with his arms crossed over his big chest. “He looks scary…” Those piercing green eyes seemed to have acknowledged them and Carl bit back a whimper. Big boys do not whimper! 

“He’s not scary! Walkers are scary,” she corrected astutely. “Harry, over here!”

Harry, in Carl’s opinion, had a really nice smile even if it was barely there, and really small… Carl blushed and looked away at Harry who had turned to him. “This is Carl!” Sophia smiled proudly.

“Nice to meet you Carl,” Carl felt his entire back shudder beneath Harry’s voice. It was so deep. He’s never heard anyone’s voice so deep, not even his dad’s! “Where’s your mom, Sophia?”

“In the kitchen, she said I could play with the chickens today.” Sophia slackened a little and pouted. They had just come from the coops after they fed the birds. “But they are boring, Harry, they forget about me as soon as I run out of food!” 

“What about you, Carl?”

Carl blinked up at Harry’s strong face then immediately looked down. He inwardly cursed his shyness. “Uh… she’s, she is… uh…” He stuttered.

“Probably in the kitchen with my mom.” Carl could’ve kissed Sophia -- but, ew, cooties -- right then and there for the save! 

Harry bent down to their level. “You guys shouldn’t be alone,” he advised calmly.

“We can handle it!” Carl retorted. He doesn’t appreciate Harry’s concern. It’s like talking to his mother and father and their nagging. Why do adults always do this? 

Harry’s eyes softened considerably. He let the easy smile hang from his lips, allowing the kid to be rather flustered. Harry messed with their hairs garnering a giggle from Sophia. “Did you two eat?”

Carl and Sophia nodded in sync. “We ate before we started playing. Mom always says to wait thirty minutes before I can run outside.”

Harry accepted that answer with a nod. Feeling a presence walking towards them, he let his eyes roam around and caught a young brunette walking towards the children. “Sophia, Carl, there you are… and…” 

Harry blinked at the girl. The girl’s eyes widened and started straightening her posture. “I don’t believe we've met… The name’s Maggie, I think pa was talkin’ about ya.” 

“Harry.” He greeted curtly, nodding his head in acknowledgement. 

“I figured the kids were around the coop but… turns out they were here… thank you for watching them, by the way…” Maggie gave Harry a shy smile. 

Harry nodded his head in acknowledgement. 

Maggie cleared her throat awkwardly. “Well, uh… I better get these kids back to their moms. Off you get, c’mon y’all!” She walked away after shooting a few glances at Harry. 

‘ I think someone has a crush on you, Harry, ’ says a smiling Hermione, walking close to her best friend. ‘ There is something Ron has to tell you .’

Ron was right behind Hermione, hunched over and sulky. Harry raised a brow at Hermione. A beaming smile was his only response. ‘ Why don’t you tell’em since you couldn-’

‘ Now, now, there is no need to be so immature, Ronald ,’ Hermione admonished, nudging her man’s arms with her sharp elbow. 

‘ Okay, okay! Fine, keep those bladed elbows away from me, woman!’ Ron dodged the offending elbow. ‘ The ferret is comin’ ’ Ron sulked against Hermione’s shoulder.

‘ Draco ?’

‘...and Luna and Neville .’ Ron added.

‘ Why? ’

They looked at Hermione who seemed to know how to answer Harry’s question. 

“Brilliant,” Ron scoffed. 

Chapter Text

" Report, " Harry's deep voice resonated, sending shivers down Hermione's spine.

That voice Harry possessed was utterly captivating. It should have been illegal.

However, Hermione complied with the demand nonetheless. "It's likely that we should anticipate more people," she began. "Our former headmistress considered it prudent. I'm afraid we don't have much say in the matter." Hermione sighed to herself, contemplating the circumstances they found themselves in.

The very thought of more people joining their endeavours was a bitter one. She was reminded of the time she and her boys orchestrated Dumbledore’s Army and the tragic outcome that came with it once the war had ended. The dark arts and their ilk culled half their numbers. Friends and families shattered that day, and many of their peers—their classmates, their housemates —did not even make it to their ‘graduation’. That’s when the chaos had begun. 

Outcries and protests erupted afterwards, demanding for compensation or some form of justice against the deserters. The Ministry had been in turmoil as a result. 

In the aftermath of the war's devastation, the desperate need for justice gave rise to a sombre initiative. The Order of Resurgence, a brainchild of the grief-stricken Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shackelbolt, was dedicated to capturing the Death Eaters who had evaded the fall of Voldemort. Together with Harry and the haunted remnants of the Order of the Phoenix, they relentlessly tracked down these fugitives. Dragging them from dark corners and breaking through their magical disguises, they imprisoned them in the bleak depths of Azkaban. Some of these prisoners faced the soul-shattering kiss of the Dementors, forever imprisoned within the shadowy walls of that dreadful fortress. Ancient families, along with their legacies, like the Malfoys and the Lestranges, found themselves torn between loyalty and redemption—with some choosing to aid in the hunt for their former allies. Heartbreakingly, others, weighed down by shame and despair, chose to end their lives, their bodies found hanging outside of their grand manors that once stood as symbols of power for their Ancient Houses, for which they dismayed. Though many trials were held and sentences given, a heavy pall of sadness hung in the air; the public's thirst for justice seemed insatiable against the backdrop of so much loss. 

They turned their heads on a new victim.   And she was looking at him right now: The Boy Who Lived.

Harry looked pensive. " I am assuming she is sending…"

She looked to Ronald, who looked a bit too peeved to utter any words and said: " Draco, Neville, and Luna . People we can trust ."

Ron scoffed. ‘ Two out of three I can trust,’ he muttered, frustration evident in his voice. " Why’d they gotta send the ferret, eh?"  

"Malfoy nstructed us to find a refuge and to provide coordinates as soon as possible. ’ Hermione ignored Ron in favour of Harry’s signal to continue. ‘ What do you make of this, Harry?"  

"If that is what the Headmistress wants,"  was all he said before he turned around. " Find a place tonight and leave in the morning ." 

‘ Are you seriously going through with this, mate? ’ asked an incredulous Ron. " Look, I’m all for bringin’ in people we trust. But, I already like what we got goin’ on right now."

" Honestly, Ronald, if it’s because of Malfoy…"

Ron immediately defended himself. ‘ Keep your bloody hands away from me, woman! I ain’t talkin’ about the ferret. I just mean, we work well together already. Do we really gotta add more people?’ 

‘ Yes, if it means finding Dolohov faster .’ Harry’s quaint response dispelled any further arguments. ‘ We find a place tonight .’ 

‘ I agree with Harry. ’ Hermione whispered to Ron. ‘ Think about it carefully. We all want to go home, but leaving something undone or half-empty isn’t something we do. We will find Dolohov, even if it means adding to our numbers. ’   

‘ And I see the merit! But why do we gotta add the ferret into this? ’ Ron pouted, earning a swift smack against his forehead. “Ow! Bloody fuck--” he cursed as he followed Harry into their shared tent. 

Hermione deftly flicked her hand inside her pouch, causing the map to unfurl and spread itself across the table, revealing a multitude of 'x's and 'o's, marking the various areas they had already visited. The prominent, luminous circle represented their current location. "We find ourselves right here," she indicated with a gesture toward the bright mark encircling the farm. "We have several options, and I propose we deliberate further before making a decision."

"We could retreat to a location we've already cleared," Ron suggested with a casual shrug, rubbing his head where it still smarted. "Somewhere compact, easy to maintain, and less likely to draw unwanted attention. General stores, abandoned houses, or cabins—places we can swiftly abandon if things take a turn for the worse."

Hermione pondered this. "While I concur that a smaller area is more manageable, I would also like to argue that it can be easily overrun, leaving us cornered and vulnerable, or worse, devoured."

"Large areas present similar challenges," Ron responded nonchalantly. Years of strategising with his friends had tempered his pride. "Fail to check even one room, and we'd be in dire straits by nightfall."

"We are certainly vigilant," Hermione acknowledged, appreciating Ron's role as the Devil's advocate. "But it's not impossible."

"You always get me, my beloved," Ron continued. "However, I can see the advantages. Plenty of exit routes and ample space, especially for all these," he nodded toward the alchemy table and the expansive herbology gardens they possessed, which occupied a significant amount of room. "Though it would be quite a hassle to clean up."

“That is true, with or without magic,” Hermione sighed. If she were to ask her younger self to clean without magic’s aid, she’d scoff and perish the thought. 

“All in a day's work,” Ron smirked at Hermione’s fond smile. “Nothing wrong with a bit of labour, I suppose.”

Hermione contemplated the idea. "Hmm, I believe it's imperative that we establish a gate, an additional layer of defence against the undead. However, that rules out most of the buildings we've already cleared."

“Depends on the fence, love. Picket fences will easily get trampled, and any other wooden fences will not be much help; metal fences, however, are quite useful. Ideally, we shoot for a large metal fence around the area. Easier to cordon away from the dead.” Ron added. “That means casting wards would be a lot easier.” 

Hermione nodded in agreement. "The buildings we've scavenged thus far are quite distant from our current location unless we use brooms or some other means of transportation. Moreover, they lack a gate or any form of fortification," she explained thoughtfully. The buildings they had plundered weren't particularly noteworthy; they consisted mainly of houses and locally owned businesses chosen for their safety. "Perhaps we should consider scouting the surrounding area to gain a better overview of our options?"

Harry and Ron nodded. “Takin’ the brooms?” The redhead asked excitedly. “Merlin, it's been a while since I’ve taken up my broom. What say you, love?”

Hermione let out a snort. "Well, as long as you don't get too carried away with your broom tricks, I should be fine," she quipped, recalling the numerous occasions when her enthusiastic boyfriend had nearly made her lose her lunch with his daring broom manoeuvres. "What's your take on this, Harry?"

“Whaddya mean ‘what about you, Harry’? Of course, he's gonna ride his broom, love! He might have a stick up his bum higher than the ceiling, but he's still the best bloomin' flier the Wizarding World's ever seen!” Ron exclaimed distractedly. Fortunately, they had silencing wards warding against prying ears. “I say that with love.” He added, a touch sheepish. 

Hermione chuckled while Harry paid no heed to Ron's comments and focused on the map, studying the area within the glowing circle that Hermione had marked. "Is there something specific you're searching for, Harry?" she inquired.

‘ Display the surrounding area ,’ he says. 

Hermione's eyes sparkled with anticipation.

With her wand resting on the brilliantly glowing circle, she clasped her hands together and concentrated. In a soft whisper, she uttered, " Projectum. "

Her wand levitated into the air and emitted a stream of light, forming a three-dimensional image of the surrounding area along with its various landmarks. It was a useful spell she had devised to visualise a selected location, encompassing a considerable distance within the constraints of her abilities.

Harry pointed to a specific area on the projected map. Hermione and Ron watched in amazement as he traced a ring of fire over a substantial portion of the projected terrain. “ Retrieve these coordinates, then we leave tonight. ” his voice had a hint of finality to it. 

“What is that place?” Ron inquired with curiosity, his ginger eyebrows furrowing as he looked in the direction of the mysterious location.

“A prison of some sort, given the heavy fencing…” Hermione threw out a guess, not much accustomed to the Muggle society as she had been before the outbreak. She walked a bit closer to get a better look at the place. 

Ron nodded his freckled head in approval. “That’s a sweet place, mate.” He whistled. “If Muggle prison is anythin’ like Azkaban, we got ourselves a good enough defence against the dead.”

“I agree with Ronald. But we have to assess the area first.” Hermione suggested, and both of her friends nodded their heads. “Allow me…” She withdrew a golden snitch from one of her satchel’s pockets. 

Using her adept methodology in metallurgy and thaumaturgy, she had transformed the small snitch into a navigation tool equipped with a simple, wordless charm that allowed her to control its movements effortlessly. It had proven to be the perfect solution to their navigation challenges, liberating them from relying on Ron's less-than-stellar sense of direction. Previously, they had often wandered aimlessly, unsure of the correct path. But with her invention, all she had to do was input the destination coordinates with a simple wand tap, and the device would guide them there with pinpoint accuracy. 

She hoped she'll get to use it tonight. 

She instructed the group, "Harry will lead the way since he's the only one who can see the golden snitch." With her device and Harry's unique ability, they were sure to reach their destination without delay.

Ron nodded. “Agreed.” 

‘Alright,’ he said intensely. Harry divested his shirt and threw it on his cot. He grabbed a fresh one from his trunk after kicking it open and changed into it, ignoring the apparent looks from his friends. ‘We use it outside, away from here.’ He cracked the little creak in his neck while rearranging his leather sheath. 

“The only issue…” Hermione sighed a little, her expression slightly troubled. 

“...are the Muggles,” Ron finished, arms crossing over his chest, his face reddening slightly. “They’d get suspicious if we just walked out of the camp,” he grumbled.

"It's not as if it's any of their business anyway. We didn't invite ourselves here; they offered," Hermione remarked sardonically. "But it's your call, Harry. Should we aim to locate the place as swiftly as possible, or should we wait for an opportune moment?"

“We don’t even know if we have an opportunity in the first place--and I ain’t betting anything on hope; look where hope got us!” Ron grumbled the last part under his breath. “As you said, it ain’t any of their business where we go off to, so long as it doesn’t affect them. We can slip out without anyone’s permission.”

"I am not sure, but the police officer's friend appears to be quite unstable," Hermione observed. "I believe he will be the primary obstacle in our attempt to leave the camp. We have spent considerable time among these Muggles, and they are naturally suspicious of strangers. On the other hand…”

“He’s a dick,” Ron shrugged indifferently, his voice tinged with a touch of disdain. “Why should we care what a Muggle thinks, hm?”

“We are not trying to start a conflict here of all places, Ronald. The least we can do is avoid potentially starting one with him in particular,” Hermione said with an exasperated sigh. “We could always sneak out or something equally discreet. There is the disillusionment charm.”

“I’m a bit rusty on charms now that I’ve been out of Flitwick’s class,” Ron grimaced as he flicked his wand. 

“We have been relying on our natural stealth for a while now,” Hermione amended in lieu of their current situation. “Though disappearing without a single word would only garner more suspicion…”

“That means we have to talk to them, don’t we?” Ron said, disheartened by the prospect of communicating with the neurotic Muggle. 

"Yes," Hermione said with a straight face. It didn’t look as if she was pleased either, yet they had no other choice. “Though there is another thing I’d like to discuss beforehand.”

Ron and Harry nodded their heads for Hermione to proceed. She reciprocated, “Malfoy informed me of a ward the professors and the Aurors have been fuelling since we left. It is highly archaic, but its general purpose is to keep everything contained; nothing comes in, and nothing goes out, so to speak.”

“Malfoy being useful is a surprise,” Ron remarked, not fully comprehending all of what Hermione had just explained. He approached his girlfriend and wrapped his arms around her shoulder after she hoisted a book about wards from her satchel. “But I’m guessin’ with that face, you want to do some tweaking? The containment aspect, I’d wager. What do these runes entail?”

She flipped through the aged tome to a specific page. “That’s the thing, I do not know as of now. I think when Draco and Luna arrive, I’ll have better insight,” Hermione stared at the ancient book she had stored in her portable luggage coffer. She’d have to admit Draco and Luna are better at wards than she could ever imagine. Of course, the war granted her some experience, but it paled in comparison to what Draco and Luna could pull off. “We can work on it from there.”

Harry brought up a good point, ‘ Why don’t we just place a Fidelius charm ?’ 

The witch shook her head. “While I think that is a better idea than scouring through this textbook, it is a waste of resources. We should only expend the Fidelius charm if we are looking for somewhere permanent to stay,” Hermione suggested almost immediately. “Most of our rune plates will be used for such an endeavour, and pooling in potential Secret-keepers—trust isn’t freely given anymore. Trust is the only nuance, I’d argue, that is essential in keeping the Fidelius charm active. Knowing its incredible power to divert pursuers and provide sanctuary from the dead would only be wasted if someone were to betray us…” 

“Betrayal is easier than trusting someone, eh?” Ron sighed grimly. “One wrong move, and everyone in that area is screwed.”

“Very,” Hermione closed the book after she attempted to understand the text. She couldn’t; she was a bit too overwhelmed with the information it possessed. “The gates will not hold if we are not managing the other walkers outside of the facility. But being contained in one area will drive anyone crazy.”

“If no one is going in or out of the school, then… how are they getting any supplies?” Ron asked, wrapping his bow around his shoulders. 

"House-Elves," Hermione replied with a touch of chagrin at her own response. "Although I hate to think of any of those innocent creatures getting harmed or worse, their magic operates differently from ours. This difference allows them to move between the warded areas. Malfoy informed me that Hogsmeade hasn't been overrun, and the other inhabitants of the Forbidden Forest have been cooperating to provide food for the students and professors at Hogwarts. It seems like a rather efficient trade route, I'd imagine."

‘ We don’t have House-Elves at our disposal, ’ Harry thought of one in particular that would help, and his two best friends caught on to the implication. ‘ I’ll help where I can .’

Ron wrapped his arms around his two best friends. “Same, though I prefer we bash a few heads in the meanwhile, yeah?” He accepted the exasperation they gave him in turn. 

“Brilliant,” Hermione commented. “We’ll need all the resources we can gather to reconstruct a ward to fit our needs. Now I have to read this boorish text.”

Ron snorted in the ensuing silence, “To hear Hermione complaining about a book, of all things, have me convinced the world has officially ended.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and ignored the sound of a book bonking against Ron’s head. 

“Ow!”

~

“Hold up, hold up… you sayin’ you’re leavin’ the farm because you need supplies?” Shane looked interested in their little fib. “You plannin’ on sharin’ with the rest of the class?”

“Whatever we can spare…” Having elected herself as the most diplomatic between the other two magic users, Hermione negotiated a minor deal with Shane in hopes of avoiding his neurotic rage. It seemed he took the bait, though she could spy that her boyfriend wasn’t pleased with the prospect of sharing supplies with the Muggles. “No promises, however, as we are mostly aiming for the other rural areas.”

It's not like they plan on getting much anyhow, given they plan on scouting around the correctional facility today. 

Shane shrugged, a ghost of a smirk priming his lips. Hermione blinked; this was far from the rage-induced machismo she observed earlier. “Whatever you can spare.”

“Don’t get too optimistic, mate,” said her charming boyfriend. Shane instantly soured, and an angry tick began pulsing around his temple. “We ain’t about to become your guys’ couriers if that’s what you reckon. Whatever we bring back and have extra of, consider it yours.”

Hermione would have applauded Ron's diplomatic skills if he hadn't been delivering such sweet words through gritted teeth. "Just a minor stipulation: Harry has the final say," she added.

"Are you fuckin’ kidding me? That wasn't our deal," Shane sneered, seething with anger. "Why should we have to listen to this guy?" He points at Harry obnoxiously. 

Ron scoffed with a humourless tone, clearly offended by the man's audacity to bite the hand that was feeding him, especially when that hand belonged to Harry.

And no one messed with Harry, not when Ron lived and breathed.

" This guy saved your friends' arses out there. If it weren't for him, your friends would be walkin' with the dead," Ron warned, stepping forward in front of Harry defensively. "You either follow our agreement, or you'll get no split from us; are we clear, mate?

They sized each other for a time, eye-to-eye—stubborn to a fault. Seeing as there was no other way to convince them otherwise, the officer acquiesced. “Crystal,” Shane seethed, anger bristling his jimmies as he spun around to brood elsewhere. 

“Perfect, glad we can have a conversation without baring teeth,” Ron snarked loud enough for the officer to hear. “See ya!”

Once Shane was far enough away, his girlfriend smacked his arm hard, eliciting a small yelp from the sheepish ginger. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers in exasperation. "I was this close to applauding your diplomacy, only to be disappointed by your... ugh! Why do I even bother?" She questioned herself more than her amused boyfriend. "Let's just get going. We're not leaving any hard feelings behind, right?"

"What kind of hard feelings are we talking about, 'Mione?" Ron chuckled and kicked a rock toward the open, rickety gate. "I'm pretty sure we left a few."

Hermione clenched her hands together, attempting to distract herself from the urge to strangle her boyfriend. "Don't kill him today... we need him," she muttered under her breath, then turned her attention to Harry. "We'll need to fly low between the trees. Going too high might attract attention since they'll spot us flying on broomsticks. Luckily, the trees are tall. Should we go ahead?"

The sudden sound of a blade slicing through the empty air startled Hermione. Harry had thrown a mithril silver dagger with such force that it embedded itself into the bark of the farthest tree, creating a noticeable fracture. The unexpected display made Hermione jump out of her skin.

‘ I heard movement ,’ he says when Hermione shoots him a shocked look.

The tall shrubbery rustled, and in response, Ron and Hermione swiftly unsheathed their chosen weapons, maintaining a defensive stance. They strained their ears until they could discern a somewhat unfamiliar voice, yet it bore a distinct inflexion that they recognised all too well.

"Holy shit," exclaimed the voice from the rustling bushes.

Moments later, a grey, bald man emerged from behind the bush, wielding a machete and sporting a look of utter shock. Hermione had never met the man before, but she recognised the other person who emerged from the bushes, equally taken aback by Harry's impressive display of strength.

“The fuck are you doin’ here, baldy?” Ron inquired with a quizzical expression

"I should be asking y’all that,” Merle responded with a snort and gestured towards the damaged tree bark. His eyes held the same glint as Dumbledore's as he examined the numerous fractures surrounding the embedded blade. "Holy shit, man... was that aimed at us?"

Harry didn’t spare them a single glance, deciding to continue on the path to their objective. 

“Pumpkin, what’s got yer leader’s ass in a twist?” Hermione couldn't help but snort at Merle's nickname for her boyfriend. Although it sounded like a term of endearment, she suspected that anything coming out of this man's mouth was far from affectionate. Merle seemed to catch on to her reaction and turned around, whistling softly. "Oh my, howdy there, sweetheart."

“Oi, knob, eyes up here,” Ron sneered at Merle’s apparent attempts at his girlfriend. “If you don’t want me bleeding you dry on the dirt, I suggest you look my way.” 

“Yeah, yeah," Merle drawled, still leaning his imposing figure against the tree, his vacant stare locked onto Ron's eyes. "So, where are y'all headed? Did G.I. Joe give you the boot already?"

"It's really none of your bleedin' business," Ron replied with a casual shrug, adjusting the strap on his shoulder for comfort. "But if you must know, we came to some sort of agreement with him."

Hermione rolled her eyes, perplexed by the decision to keep their secret only to divulge parts of it afterwards. Sometimes, her boyfriend confuses her. 

“We’re wasting daylight,” Harry reminded. 

"Hot damn, his voice is deep," Merle mused, his attention now fixated on Harry's figure. The man's physique was indeed something to behold. "No wonder you've got that farmer's daughter howlin' like a hound in heat..."

Daryl shot him a bewildered look. “What the fuck?” 

"Is your brother...?" Ron gave Daryl a puzzled look and mimicked rolling his fingers around his temple as a gesture. “Or is he…?” He, once again, used his hands to recreate an obscene gesture which earned him a right smack on the shoulder from his lover. “Ow! That was uncalled for, I’m curious!”

Daryl shrugged nonchalantly. 

Rubbing his sore shoulder, Ron snorted his response, “Welp, that ain’t any of my business, mate. You heard the big boss. We are wasting precious light,” he smirked at the two rednecks and grabbed Hermione’s hand, guiding her to Harry’s side. “See ya, suckers!” 

Merle called out, “Wait! Hold up!”

It would have made things easier if the two rednecks did not seize the opportunity to catch up with them quickly; Merle, with his galling smirk and beady pupils, decided he’d follow the group, which garnered a groan from the redheaded wizard.

At this rate, they’ll never brush them off their trail. 

‘ How long is the trek, love? ’ he said through their mental link, staring at his girlfriend pleadingly.

‘I’d say about three days on foot,’ Hermione said, looking straight ahead. ‘It would only take an hour if we used the brooms and the snitch.’  

‘ Hold up. Three. Fuckin’. Days?!’ Ron exclaimed in their shared mindscape. ‘ Merlin’s saggy tits.’

"Well, it doesn't prevent us from sneaking in under the cover of night using the disillusionment charm," Hermione suggested, her beautiful face adorned with a slight grin. "I doubt we'll be able to shake them off anytime soon, so we should honour our end of the bargain."

"Right," Ron acknowledged with a deep grimace.

Harry remained focused on surveying the area, unconcerned with the specifics of their plan. He chose to follow Hermione's strategy to deter the Muggles from trailing them. Fortunately, walkers were relatively sparse along the trail leading back to the highway, suggesting that they had been drawn elsewhere. "Don't forget we're not safe anymore," he reminded them as he hurled another dagger at a stray walker emerging from the bushes.

It caught it straight in the face.

A sharp whistle caught Harry's attention. "Nice shot," Daryl nodded at Harry with respect. Harry returned the nod.

"Are you a marksman?" Daryl inquired.

"With that aim, gotta say, you look like one," Merle chimed in, earning a bemused blink from his brother. "You military, sonny?"

Harry shook his head. "Just have good aim," he replied in a deadpan tone, shrugging his shoulders. "And you?"

“ Holy shit, he’s talking, ” Ron narrowed his eyes at his best friend. 

" Hush ," Hermione hissed sharply, smacking her boyfriend's shoulder in the hope that Ron hadn't disrupted this remarkable spectacle. 

“ No one else but Harry could bloody hear us!” Ron pouted. 

Merle shook his head and chuckled. "I got court-martialed and discharged, but I was a damn good shot," he reminisced. "Still am."

Harry nodded in understanding and continued on his way, with Daryl walking alongside him.

"Have you ever used a gun?" Daryl inquired, noting that the man beside him didn't appear to be carrying a firearm or at least a holster for one.

Harry nodded in response to Daryl's question.

"Why don't you have one?" Daryl probed further.

"It's loud," Harry replied astutely.

Daryl grunted in understanding.

The conversation had effectively come to an end between Harry and Daryl, but they continued to walk side by side. The three individuals trailing behind them took notice. Merle raised an eyebrow at his younger brother; the other two couldn't help but wonder what had prompted their usually silent best friend to engage in conversation with Daryl in the first place.

They hadn’t seen him like this since Malfoy. 

"Well now, ain't nobody gonna say a word 'round here?" Merle perked up in the ensuing silence. “Y’all haven’t answered my question,” he added with a note of impatience. 

“Do we have to?” Ron raised a brow at the knob-head. “You’re already followin’ us; just wait and see.”

“Alright, alright, I didn’ mean to twist yer ankles, pumpkin,” Merle remarked with a mockery of a sweet and sultry accent. "But this here trek's gonna be duller than a slow church day without some chatter."

“Or, well, I don’t know, try not to get eaten?” the redhead deadpanned, his bow still drawn. “Unlike you, I don’t plan on ringin’ that damn dinner-bell.”

“Throw me a bone here, sport; not like we got any places to really be,” Merle complained with a southern drawl to his voice.

“You are one stubborn sonuvabitch,” the Weasley remarked.

Hermione sent a sharp kick to his shin. “Ronald!” she admonished between her teeth. 

“What!? He is!” Ron yelped, holding his injured leg. 

Harry chimed in, “ Quiet , Ron .” 

The redhead felt Harry’s piercing gaze on his back. 

“It wasn’t my fault!” Ron protested. “What the fuck?”

“Y’all goin’ back to the highway?” Daryl inquired, his gaze fixed on Harry, who nodded in response after scolding Ron. 

“Hn,” the redneck grunted in acknowledgement. 

“If we head down south, we might hit up Newnan,” Merle remarked, shrugging at everyone’s stares. “What? I can be helpful, too,” he sneered. 

~

To Ron’s dismay, the rednecks tagged along all the way to Newnan. Fortunately for them, they weren’t at all talkative and kept to themselves during the journey. Once they arrived, they explored the area, clearing out buildings and collecting whatever they needed; much to the rednecks’ surprise, the trio left some provisions for them to take as well. 

As Ron sprayed the last building with a red ‘X’, he pointed at the next area they were planning to loot, which turned out to be a neighbourhood; from the looks of it, it looked to be a suburb. 

Were it not for the scattered litter and bloody trails, the group would have assumed this place had been untouched by the walkers; the lawns were still manicured, and the bungalows were not damaged by any signs of forced entry. These telltale signs seemed to warrant security, but they knew better than that; the group continued their cautious endeavours and entrusted their survival with their instincts.

Following Harry’s golden rules, the trio stuck together like glue and did not split up; even the rednecks stayed with them. Of course, the walkers were taken out without hesitance. With the added manpower, they cleared the area easily. Ron continued to mark house after house with his red spray can, signalling that they had taken everything and the area was clear. They jumped from house to house, clearing out all they could in an attempt to honour their side of the bargain and resupply their own stores. 

As they marched along the sidewalks, Hermione, in the ensuing silence, says, “Pity the world ended; I would’ve loved living here.” She gazed at the vaulting bungalows standing on their brick foundations and garnished with their wooden porches. 

“Really?” Ron tilted his head a little. He wasn’t at all familiar with the Muggle world, but he could see the appeal. 

If you’d strip away the rotten entrails and the pungent smell of death, this would’ve been a nice neighbourhood to live in. 

She nodded, a slight smile curving her lips. “It’s quite idyllic and nostalgic. My family moved to the suburbs when my father expanded his dental practice—looked a lot like this place, to be honest. But I’ll admit, the community could be suffocating. All of our neighbours harassed our front door with niceties and— hah —rubbish food. Some even had the audacity to start rumours for the sake of inciting drama in the neighbourhood, not like anything happened there anyway.”

“Merlin knows we need more of that,” Ron remarked, recalling the time when Rita Skeeter had written her hit-piece against Harry during the Triwizard Tournament in their fourth year. It was all started for the sake of sparking a sliver of drama, but the damage was astronomical. In fact, most of their life together could be described as dramatic . 

“Amen,” Hermione says with a small smirk at the look of utter confusion she garnered from her boyfriend. “Now that I think about it, I’d take a horribly made dish over a tin of beans. Cooking a full-course meal is considered a luxury nowadays.”

Ron shook his head and said, “But we can sure as all hells try to make this our new normal.”    

“ This is our last house for the day, ” Harry announced, his eyes narrowing at the house before him. “ Three in the bedroom, two in the bathroom .”

“ How do you know these things? ” Ron inquired in amazement, knowing full well he would not receive an answer. Not like he was complaining; Harry’s foresight helped them out aplenty. “ Should we tell the Muggles? ”

“ Highly doubt they’ll believe it, ” Hermione responded doubtfully. “ Let’s just keep it discreet. Tell them what they need to know. ”

“ Will do, love ,” Ron complied with a giddy smile on his lips. “ Shall we? ”

“ Of course, ” Hermione glued herself to Ron’s side, trusting him to watch her flank. 

Relaying their instructions to the rednecks, Daryl and Merle successfully dispatched the first two walkers in the bathroom, shooting and stabbing them down in silence. The trio then took care of the remaining three with their weapons. Harry kicked their skulls in to ensure they were truly dead; Hermione winced at how easily Harry’s foot smashed through the walker’s decayed flesh. 

“ Clear . Search and grab everything you can, leave nothing behind ,” he instructed, his boots rubbing against the stained carpet as he spoke. 

“Found somethin’,” Daryl announced, his foot nudging at a metal bar pocking out from the floorboards. “You thinkin’ preppy?”

Merle snorted at Daryl’s assumption. “Gotta be, ya seen the kitchen? Empty, nothin’ left behind,” he remarked. “Must’ve stored everythin’ in his bunker.”

Ron’s ginger brows furrowed in confusion. “So? Someone must’ve cleared it out when shit hit the fan.”

“Then why’s everyone else’s house still have somethin’ in their cupboards, smart ass?” Merle snorted. Not waiting for a response, he continued, “They hoard everything in’ere. Look at the steel. Sheesh, military-grade, ain’t nothin’ cuttin’ this shit open.”

“What’s a preppy, then?” Ron asked.

“Nutcases,” Merle shrugged. 

“Ah—they prepare for these things, of course…” Hermione chimed in to explain to her two best friends, who looked to her for answers. “These are certain types of… people that prepare for an impending apocalypse. They stockpile enough food, water, and medicine to last for months, maybe even years.”

“What the lady said,” Merle pulled at the bar and was met with resistance. “Shit. Locked,” he announced. “‘s the point of gettin’ a bunker like this and not use it? Dumbasses.” 

“They were probably eaten before they could,” the witch postulated. Hermione scanned the floor for any sign of a misplaced key. “There must be a key nearby,” she commented, immediately sifting through the various drawers in the room. “Ah! Try these,” she passed a chain full of keys to Merle. 

“Motherfucker, why’d they need so many keys?” Merle grumbled as he selected a key from the chain and attempted to unlock the bunker’s hatch.

As Merle struggled to unlock the bunker door with the plethora of keys Hermione had given him, Daryl joined Harry and kept watch at his side, ready to fend off any approaching threats and stragglers. Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron scoured the area, scavenging and packing them into their duffle bags. The eerie silence hung heavy in the air, giving this overwhelming sense of calm juxtaposed with the carnage they had just wrought. 

When Merle finally succeeded in unlocking the bunker, a small but triumphant “Aha! Fucking finally” escaped his lips, drawing everyone’s attention. They gathered around the bunker entrance, peering into the dark, musty abyss. 

The entrance to the bunker revealed a narrow flight of stairs that descended into the darkness below. Ron and Hermione’s flashlight helped mitigate some of the encroaching shadows, but they illuminated close to nothing besides the wires looping around the entryway’s crevices. 

“See them wires?” Merle rasped, nodding towards the illuminated cables. “Gotta be hooked to a generator inside the bunker.”

“ It should be clear. You two go with them; I’ll keep watch ,” Harry instructed, his back turned to his friends. 

Hermione and Ron exchanged nods of agreement. “ Alright ,” Hermione complied. 

Without further delay, Merle, Ron, and Hermione descended the flight of stairs. 

Daryl, on the other hand, asks, “You stayin’ out here?” He noticed the man made no move to accompany them. 

Harry simply nodded in response. 

Daryl scratched his neck thoughtfully as he met Harry’s emerald gaze. “I’ll join ya,” he said to the trio’s hulking enigma. 

As the minutes passed, the two silent sentinels kept their eyes trained on every entry point. They remained vigilant, aware that the clanging sounds they made while trying to open the bunker door could attract unwanted attention.

And then, as if ordained by some grim prophecy, it unfolded before them. Emerging from the bungalow's front door, a group of walkers surged forth, their vacant, jaundiced eyes fixated on them. 

A smirk crept across Daryl’s face as he loaded his crossbow with a compound bolt. With precision, he aimed and fired, the bolt finding its mark in a walker’s forehead. 

“That’s one,” he declared with a hint of a challenge in his voice. He turned to Harry, his eyes gleaming with a thrill the wizard couldn’t ignore. “Think you can top that, Green Eyes?” 

Harry, unfazed, unsheathed his sword with a determined glint in his emerald gaze. “You’re on,” he responded, stepping forward to face the oncoming tide of walkers. 

~

Meanwhile, downstairs, Ron, Hermione, and Merle remained oblivious to the events unfolding above. They followed the wires that hung along the crevices of the wall, eventually locating the generator. With Merle’s guidance, they powered it up by flicking a switch, flooding the room with blinding LED lights that filled every corner instantly.

“Bloody hell,” Ron grumbled under his breath, his vision blinded by the sudden burst of brightness. After a moment, he heard faint, unsettling thuds emanating from the floor above.

“ Oi, mate, you doin’ alright up there? ” Ron called out, concern evident in his voice, even though he knew he wouldn’t receive a response.

Hermione, her own anxiety evident, reassured him, “ Harry will be fine, Ron. He can handle himself; he also has someone with him. He’ll be safe. ” With that, she continued to move about the room, searching for anything and everything; in Ron’s eyes, she probably would pry off the polymer-metal walls if she could just use it in one of her wacky magical experiments. 

“Shit, if my fuckin’ brother brought his truck, we’d be able to haul this back and make some real use of it,” Merle sneered at the offending piece of machinery before him. “What a waste.” 

Ron glanced at Hermione, who was also staring at him. “ You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, love? ” 

Hermione nodded in agreement. “ It’ll be very useful. Might have to put it in the burkin, though; it is much too big .” 

“ When his back’s turn, I’ll snatch it, ” he replied, his eyes shifting to the MREs carefully organised in a plastic storage box. He grabbed a few that looked good and stored it in his backpack. “Oh, baked macaroni,” he inspected and placed the rations in his bag for later use. “You takin’ some, baldy?”

Merle shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Leave me some of the good stuff, I’ll just take the box when you’re done.” 

“Alright,” Ron nodded in acknowledgement and then joined Hermione, who was peering into the cabinet filled to the brim with what looked like chemicals. Muggle terms were still too foreign for Ron to understand. “Whatcha lookin’ for, love?”

“Nothing in particular,” Hermione responded. She swept her gaze across the various chemicals and their ilk, wondering what half of these things did since she did not possess much knowledge concerning mundane medicine practices. “ Might just leave these for them ,” she nodded towards Merle, “ We don’t really need muggle medicine, do we? ”

Leaning closer, Ron studied the rows of medicines and supplies. “ Nothing without taking some for the sake of precaution ,” he grinned a little when Hermione looked ready to facepalm.

“ Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to survive without you, ” Hermione said with genuine affection, her delicate fingers grazing Ron’s freckled cheeks before she playfully pinched him. 

Ron’s blue eyes sparkled with warmth as he held her hand. “ Don’t be so hard on yourself, love, ” he reassures, tenderly holding her hand. “ I don’t think we’ll be able to survive without you and that big brain of yours . The Brightest Witch of our age, a deserving title for one so lovely and intelligent. ” 

“ Stop it ,” Hermione said, her cheeks flushing slightly in response to his compliments. 

Ron chuckled softly, turning his head slightly when he espied something in his periphery. His eyes fell upon a cache. “Is that ammo?” He caught Merle’s attention with a snap of his fingers, gesturing his head towards the boxes stacked with cases of ammunition. 

Chuckling, Merle sifted through the cache filled with ammunition with glee. “Nice catch, pumpkin-head,” Merle complimented, a grin breaking across his rugged face. “This guy prepared for everythin’.”

“You Americans are weird,” Ron remarked, snorting at the irony of it all. If it wasn’t for the bunker, they wouldn’t have found any meaningful provisions that held any value. “There’s a weapon case over there, too, if you’re interested.”

Merle’s ears perked. “Weapon case, you say? Don’t mind if little ole Merle do,” he said, striding purposefully toward the object Ron had pointed out. But as he approached, his expression quickly shifted, and he muttered, “Oh fuck me…”

“What is it?” Ron inquired curiously.

Unclasping the cover with deft fingers, Merle gently pulled the straps of what looked to be a marksman rifle. Ron was familiar with that particular weapon since he’d seen his fair share of it while wandering through Atlanta. He prodded Hermione for her expansive, albeit limited, knowledge of muggle artillery, which, as it happened, included marksman rifles. 

Her dad was apparently a sniper before he settled on being a dentist. 

“A .50 cali,” Merle whistled appreciatively at the marksman rifle in his hands, his fingers caressing its long barrel with reverence. “Come to daddy…”

Hermione raised an inquisitive brow at Ron, who was also staring at the scene in morbid fascination. “ Is he flirting with a gun? ” the witch inquired. 

She didn’t know if she was amused or unsettled. 

Ron shrugged nonchalantly. “ Beats me, ‘Mione ,” he deadpans. “ Let’s leave those two alone .”

The bunker’s single corridor revealed several interconnected rooms, offering access to bedrooms and bathrooms. 

“ Man, these muggles were filthy rich, ” Ron says, fingers cracking beneath the force of his thumb. “ We should stock up on toiletry, I’ll take the one on the right .” 

“ Alright ,” Hermione nodded diligently. “Afterwards, we should probably check on Harry .”

Ron dismissed the notion with a small chuckle and a wave of his hand. “ He’s fine , probably … How much trouble could he have possibly roped in when we’re just several feet under him? ”

~

“What in the flying fuck ‘appened ‘ere?!” 

Merle gawked at the numerous bodies strewn across the floor, each bearing deathly wounds—decapitated or with a bolt sticking out of their sockets. 

“Are you both alright?” Hermione worriedly inquired, scanning them with her meticulous eyes for any sign of injury. “ Was there a horde you failed to mention, Harry? ”

“ Holy shit, this is a massacre. I almost feel bad for the dead, ” Ron remarked. He kicked at a dead man’s mangled head that was still rolling on the floor. “What happened here, mate?” 

Daryl huffed as he pulled a bolt out from a walker’s eye socket. “Twenty-one,” he announced proudly.

Unfazed by the macabre carnage, Harry calmly wiped the blood from his blade and replied, “Twenty-five.”

“Bull-fucking-shit,” Daryl squawked out incredulously, drawing a few raised eyebrows from his older brother. 

“ What do those numbers mean? ” Ron quizzically quirked a brow at Harry, his curiosity piqued by the seemingly random figures. 

However, the witch next to him wasn’t amused. “ You both were playing a game! ” Hermione pointed an accusatory finger at Harry and Daryl. Her frustration was evident as she sighed exasperatedly and pressed two digits on the bridge of her nose. “ Tell me, did you deliberately draw all of these walkers in here to have a bit of fun while we were down there?”

Harry needn’t utter a single word, for she had already confirmed her suspicions with this awkward silence; Daryl was just confused. She shook her head, a mixture of exasperation and genuine concern etched across her face. “As long as you both aren’t bitten, I suppose,” she conceded. 

Ron, however, couldn’t resist the urge to add his own two cents into the conversation. “ That’s it? That’s all he gets? ” he protested. “ But when I do this, I’m relegated to the doghouse?! ” 

Hermione’s patience was walking on thin ice; she responded with a warning glare and a threat, “ Speak another word, and you will be relegated to the doghouse tonight. ” 

His boyfriend remarks, “ This is blatant injustice. ” Ron’s moue only received a slap on his shoulder from his testy girlfriend. 

Daryl bumped Harry’s shoulders, “We’re on for a rematch later,” he promised. 

Harry stared at him with an indiscernible look in his eyes and responded with a nod to his head. “You’re on,” his expression remained inscrutable, and his gaze met Daryl evenly.  

“Bet,” the redneck says. 

Chapter Text

It had to be the moonshine Merle gave him last night. There was no fucking shot he’d be caught dead competing in anything, let alone one that involves killing a bunch of walkers. 

But, this was kind of fun. 

“Tally,” Daryl called, yanking his machete from the skull of another fallen walker. 

“Fifty-four,” Harry grunted, swinging his broadsword into an offending walker’s head. The head flew clean off after a sickening crunch of bone and flesh. “Fifty-five.”

“Sonuvabitch!” Daryl cursed loudly. “Quit stealin’ my kills, dammit! Forty-three.”

“He’s kickin’ yer ass, brotha,” Merle snickered.

“Shut yer trap,” Daryl retorted with a sneer.  

Harry shrugged as he wiped and sheathed his blade. Seeing Hermione struggling with her heavy backpack, he walked over and lifted it from her shoulders.

“Thanks, Harry,” she said, giving him an appreciative smile.

Their supply-run group had been forced to abandon the bungalows quickly when the first wave of the undead found them. Hermione warned that a much larger horde would soon follow. While the two redneck muggles were capable fighters, engaging a horde would waste precious time and energy. Didn’t stop Daryl and Harry from keeping score as they cleared a path, though.

Hermione was glad to see Harry enjoying himself for once, morbid as the competition was. The trail of decapitated corpses they left was unsettling, but at least it meant the way was clear.

 Ron’s fingers twitched towards his bow and arrow, clearly itching to join the game his best friend and Daryl were playing. One withering glare from Hermione had him shuffling to the back of the group, suddenly very interested in watching their six. Anything to avoid his girlfriend’s wrath.

As they pressed on, Daryl found himself stealing glances at Green Eyes. There was something about the way Green Eyes moved—efficient, deadly, but without the usual rage Daryl associated with fighting walkers. It was… almost graceful. Daryl shook his head, blaming the hangover he had over Merle’s moonshine. 

Still, he couldn’t deny the respect for Harry’s skills. The man was ruthless, never wasting a movement. Daryl got the sense that Green Eyes would show the same mercy to any of his own people if they turned—not that he’d ever let that happen, given how protective he is over his friends. There was a cold practicality to him that Daryl understood all too well. His brother would do the same for him and vice versa.   

“Next group’s mine,” Daryl muttered, tightening his grip on his machete. He might be trailing in their little competition, but it was far from over. The next group of walkers was his, and he’d be damned if he let Harry show him up again. 

Before they knew it, they made it back in time for the evening. 

As soon as they arrived, they were met by the entire group waiting for them; however, unlike a few, some looked peeved—namely, Shane. 

The big guy charged up to them, face flushed with rage. “Who gave you two the right to wander off like that?!” He exclaimed.

“Calm down, mate,” Ron said coolly, not even trying to hide his contempt for the man. “We’re grateful for their help.”

Shane rounded on Ron like an attack dog, turning on its owner. “I don’t give a damn! We were shorthanded here!”

“Yeah? Well, that sounds a lot like a you problem,” Ron replied, completely unfazed. “So why don’t you take it down a notch, mate, or I’ll make you?”

“Ronald!” Hermione called, aghast by her boyfriend’s threat.

“Are you threatening me?!” Shane growled between his gritted teeth. 

“You’re obviously not listening to reason,” Ron replied, his cadence dropping into a low growl. “A rabid dog needs to be put down.”

Before things escalated, Rick stepped between the two, hands raised. “Everyone, let’s take a breath here,” he said firmly. “You two are gonna attract walkers miles away with all your yapping. We can’t afford an attack on the farm! Shut up and talk this out like adults .”

Rick turned to Ron, his gaze stern.“We need to work together, not against each other.” 

From the back of the group, Merle’s voice rang out. “Well, ain’t this somethin’? Officer Friendly playin’ peacekeeper,” he drawled with a bit of droll. With a grunt, he dropped the bag he’d been lugging since the bungalows. “We joined this circus for supplies,” he explained, nudging the bag with his foot. “Seems to me that’s exactly what we got.”

When the two leaders stayed completely silent, Merle pressed on, “Why don’t G.I. Joe there show some gratitude? Coulda kept the whole haul for themselves,” he shot Harry a conspiratorial wink. “They got a bag for you and everythin’, you mutt.”

Shane’s face contorted with rage, a low, menacing growl rumbling from his chest. But Merle seemed unfazed by the reaction. If anything, he looked amused, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. 

Ron’s smile was all teeth, the petty man he was. “What baldy said. We could’ve hoarded everything, but we didn’t, did we? Their help earned them a share,” he said, voice sickeningly sweet. “I reckon you owe us an apology?”

“I ain’t apologizin’ to no fuckin’ Brit,” Shane sneered in disdain. 

Ron rolled his eyes, then turned to Harry, who was hovering protectively over Hermione. Shit, Ron grinned inwardly, he’s doing Ron’s job. What a guy. “Harry, you have the final say. What do you think, mate?” His tone was overly sweet. 

Harry shrugged indifferently. They had plenty of supplies in their own packs and had planned to give the rest to Hershel's family anyway, as thanks for their reluctant hospitality. How Hershel's group used the supplies was their business. Still, a deal was a deal. He nodded to Rick, whose eyes widened in surprise.

"Give it to him?" Ron asked, shooting Rick a pointed look. At Harry's nod, he shrugged. "Alright." He tossed down a pack they'd prepared for Sophia's group. Sad that they had to waste supplies on these ingrates. Hopefully, most of it went to the children and Carol. "MREs, toiletries, and ammo. Should last a week, assuming you're leaving the old man's property."

Ron hefted a larger duffel bag next. "This one's for Hershel," he announced, zeroing in on Jimmy hovering nervously nearby. “Be a dear and run this to the old man, would you?” His voice dripped with mock sweetness as he thrust the bag at the young man. 

Dusting off his hands, Ron’s grin turned wolfish. “Now then, about that apology…”

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. Her love for Ron was undeniable, but it didn't blind her to his flaws. Like his older brothers Fred and George, Ron had a petty streak a mile wide and could nurse a grudge till his death. The war had changed them all, but it had left Ron bitter, his world narrowed to just her, Harry, and what remained of his family. Everyone else was just background noise.

Shane’s lip curled in disgust. "I ain't apologizin'," he spat.

Ron's grin turned feral. "Then hand over the supplies we busted our asses for," he demanded, arms outstretched towards Rick. 

Rick's gaze darted between Ron and Shane, then to Harry, who watched the scene with disinterest. "C’mon, we just—" Rick started, his futile attempt cut short.

"You get the goods when this asshole apologizes," Ron cut in, challenging the bigger man. Hermione knew there was no real need for an apology; Ron was simply pushing boundaries, testing how far he could provoke Shane.

It certainly worked its magic. The man looked ready to burst the more Ron egged him on.

"Enough."

Harry's deep voice, though quiet, carried a weight that silenced them all. "Drop it, Ron," he commanded, leaving no room for argument.

Ron's head dipped, a slight nod to his leader. Just like that, he backed away from Shane, as if nothing ever happened. "Sure thing, mate," he conceded, but the cheeky grin remained..

The tension hung in the air before Jimmy's voice cut through, breaking the awkward silence. "Holy shi—uh…shoot. His voice is deep. Got chills," he blurted out, then wilted under Harry's pointed glare. "Right, I'll give this to Hershel. Sorry, sir." No one could blame the young man for his hasty retreat, scurrying into the house like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs.

As Jimmy disappeared inside, Merle let out a low whistle. "Damn, that voice… gets me every time," he admitted, a rare, begrudging respect in his voice. It wasn't every day someone intimidated a Dixon. Merle knew better. Behind that handsome facade lurked something dangerous—a soldier, and a damn good one at that. "Good thing you're on our side, Brit," Merle muttered, half to himself.

Harry made no clear indication he heard Merle, not that the latter cared. "We're done here," Harry said, beginning to walk back to their tent, which was isolated from the farmhouse.

No one stopped them.

===

As Daryl rounded the corner of the farmhouse, he stopped short. There was Harry, casually perched atop the wooden slats of Hershel’s pasture fence, joint in hand as wisps of smoke drifted lazily from his lips. Man looked like something out of a portrait he had seen in museums, or those fancy galleries. 

Shaking off his surprise, Daryl fished out the crumpled pack of cigarettes from his back pocket; he lifted it off a corpse, never having a chance to use it when they were running from the CDC. Stupid suicidal doctor, why couldn’t he have killed himself and saved them all the trouble? He ambled over, dirt crunching under his worn boots, until he reached Harry’s side. Placing a cigarette between his lips, Daryl grunted, “Got a light?”

Harry turned to him and nodded. He shifted his body to fully face Daryl, their knees nearly brushing. Leaning in close, far closer than Daryl usually let anyone get, Harry cupped his free hand around the flame of his lighter to shield it from the evening wind. He was too surprised to push the man away! Daryl focused on the flame intently, watching it unwaveringly. As the cigarette’s end finally caught, Daryl drew in a deep, steadying breath. He held the smoke in his lungs for a long moment, savouring the relief he felt when Harry pulled away. 

The Dixon exhaled slowly. He chanced a glance at the other man. Harry was staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable, as if nothing happened. Daryl grunted softly, taking another drag of his cigarette and letting the smoke curl from his lips.

“I let you win, y’know,” Daryl muttered, his voice a low rumble.

Harry’s only response was a single raised brow.  

Daryl couldn’t help but snicker. It had been close—73 to 68. He could still hear Merle’s laughter when they’d return to camp, crowing about how his little brother had lost to a “damn Brit.”

“Well, ain’t this cosy?”

Speak of the devil. Merle’s bald head appeared around the corner of the farmhouse, a shit-eating grin firmly in place.

“Oh shit, pretty boy’s here too,” Merle drawled, eyeing Harry. Sometimes, Merle looked like he was gonna pounce on the man. “Be a doll and pass me a smoke, Darylina.”

Clamping the cigarette between his lips, Daryl fished out the pack again. He flipped open the top and held it out to his brother, ignoring the nickname that made his ears burn—especially in front of Harry. Thankfully, the man didn’t seem aware that Merle showed up anyway. 

“You got a lighter too? Lost mine,” Merle said. Harry tossed his lighter at Merle, who caught it with a grin. “You’re a saint, pretty boy.”

Daryl had the sudden urge to clear his throat. “So, what’s happenin’?” He needed something that took his mind off of Green Eyes. 

“Officer Friendly is keeping his rabid dog—” cue in a rollicking laugh here, “on a tighter leash. Seems old man Hershel don’t want’em on his land no more. Queen Bitch was also injured too, searchin’ for her baby daddy alone with the car she stole from Hershel’s older daughter, whatchamacallit...”

Maggie, Daryl’s mind supplied but kept silent. 

Daryl’s brow furrowed.  Everyone in this god-awful camp is a bunch of idiots. “Shane causin’ trouble again?” He asked.

Merle nodded. “You know it, baby brother. That man’s a powder keg waitin’ to blow. Officer Friendly’s tryin his bestest to keep the peace, but…” He trailed off. “Shoutin’ in front of his house didn’ help, too. But we can blame pumpkin-head for that.”

Tensions have been sky-high after what Shane pulled with Hershel’s family Sure, they were walkers stinking up the barn, but Christ… Who shows up on someone else’s property and starts calling shots? Let alone open fire. Shane had pulled similar bullshit back at the quarry, but Daryl had figured sticking together beat staying a duo. That decision soured the moment Rick confessed to leaving Merle cuffed on that rooftop in Atlanta.

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Told ya we should’ve booked it after we saved your mangy ass,” he grumbled more to himself than his brother. 

Merle’s laugh was sharp and humourless. “Everyone was shittin’ bricks when I came back higher than fuckin’ Sunday.”

Daryl snorted. “Had to throw your stash though,” he mused. 

After Officer Friendly had retrieved some of his guns from G’s group, they’d found Merle slumped against the cube truck the cop had left. He was bleeding out on the dirt, higher than a kite. Thank God Merle was a tough sonuvabitch; he would’ve bled out and died if they hadn’t found him. Daryl had tossed Merle’s stash when they moved out, knowing it would only get worse when Merle eventually ran out later on. 

It was necessary. Daryl would probably do it again if history repeated itself.

“Yer still an asshole for that, man,” Merle shrugged, seemingly past it now.

Harry shifted slightly on the fence, drawing the brother’s attention. The Brit’s face remained impassive, but he continued to stare at the trees around Hershel’s farm. Daryl kind of forgot he was still around, the man was completely silent! 

Daryl grunted, his neck was itchy all of a sudden. “What’s the word on the rest of the idiots? They leavin’ or what?”

Merle took a long drag of his cigarette before answering. “Way I hear it, the old man’s givin’ ’em till the end of the week. After that…” He made a shooing motion with his hand. 

Daryl nodded, a frown creasing his brow. The group had been nothing but trouble since they’d arrived at Hershel’s farm. They’d demanded the old man treat Officer Friendly’s boy after he got himself shot, set up camp to search for the missing girl (who Harry ended up rescuing), and stretched Hershel’s resources thin with all the new mouths to feed. 

And then Shane gunned down Hershel’s walker family right in front of him. Daryl couldn’t blame the old man for wanting them gone after all that.

“Heard the old man’s lil’un went batshit, said she’d try to kill ‘erself after what that rabid dog pulled,” Merle shook his head, tapping his cigarette with a couple of digits. Merle couldn’t give a rats ass about anyone but children were off the table. He looked out for the kids at least, the adults could fend for themselves for all he cared. 

“What a fuckin’ shitshow,” Merle took another long drag of his cigarette. “So what about you pretty boy? Got any plans before this whole place goes up in flames?”

Daryl glanced at Harry. For whatever reason, he was anticipating the man’s answer. 

Harry lit another joint with his lighter “We found a place,” he said vaguely. “We’re leaving tomorrow.” 

Something twisted in Daryl’s gut at the news. Fuck if he knew why. “Where is it?”

Harry didn’t answer, just took a long drag from his joint.

“Ah shit, he ain’t tellin’ us,” Merle grimaced disappointedly. “Anywhere’s better than this hellhole. Hell, I’d rather take my chances back in Atlanta than stick around here. Ain’t nobody in this place knows how to mind their own damn business.” 

“You got that right,” Daryl agreed, flicking his spent cigarette to the ground. He crushed it under his boot, grinding it into the dirt. He ain’t his mama, he wasn’t about to risk a fire. “You, uh… you got everythin’ you need? For wherever you’re goin’, I mean.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. 

Merle’s stupid sights were on him but ignored it, focusing instead on Harry. The Brit finally turned to face him, green eyes unreadable. 

“We’ll manage,” was the simple answer Daryl received. Without another word, Harry hopped off the fence, crushing the rest of his joint with his hand. 

As Harry turned to leave, the man paused in his steps. He turned his head slightly, giving Daryl a view of his perfect profile in the fading light. 

“Thanks, Daryl,” Harry said softly, his deep voice sending shivers down his spine. 

Well, shit.

===

Ron snapped the alchemy trunk shut with a decisive click, tossing a vial of Wideye potion to Harry. “We ready to get this shit on the road?” He asked. “Bloody hell, I’d kill for some real coffee.” Despite his complaints, he still knocked the potion back in one swift motion. Ron lapped his tongue, he hated the taste of Wolfsbane. 

Harry caught the vial with ease, downing its contents without complaint.

“We still need to debrief,” Hermione reminded Ron as if it were for the umpteenth time. “Going at this blindly will only get us killed. Need I remind you, light is not on our side any more.” 

“True,” Ron conceded. “We’ve wasted enough time getting supplies for those ungrateful gits. What’s the plan, love?”

Hermione raised her wand, projecting a detailed map into the air between them, emitting a soft, magical glow. “First priority is assessing any potential damage from heavy weaponry,” she began. “Then we need to estimate and clear out the dead in sections. Beyond that… I am open to suggestions.”

“Yeah,” Ron nodded as he looked at the projected map thoughtfully. “Scout the area, look for any damage from erosion or any sort of breaches. We can plug them up just fine with a simple repair charm, or do it ourselves. Then we nail down our entry and exit points before tackling the danger zones.” 

“Exactly,” Hermione agreed, a small smile of approval crossing her face. “And we do it all from the air. No surprises that way. Do we have Invigorating Draughts at our disposal?”

With a casual flick of his wand, Ron conjured a thin piece of parchment. His eyes skimmed over the neat rows of writing—Hermione’s handwriting. She kept note of everything they stored down to the very last item. “According to your impressively organised storage list, love, we’ve got about forty vials worth.”

“Good,” Hermione nodded, pleased. “That should be enough to keep us going until dawn. Harry, you alright with the plan?”

Harry nodded curtly. 

Hermione inhaled a sharp breath, steeling herself. “Right. Remember to cast Disillusionment charms on yourselves. We’ll meet at the forest edge, away from prying eyes. I’ll release the snitch once we’re airborne.” .

Ron frowned. “What do we do about our tents?” They set their tents up where no one could see them, not like anyone out there cared enough to visit. But it wasn’t too far from the farmhouse to arouse suspicion, just out of sightlines. 

“We’ll pack them up,” Hermione said with a shrug. She appreciated the convenience of magical tents. A simple flick of her wand would have everything cleaned and stored in her trunk. “We promised to be gone by morning. Best we keep our word.”

“No time to waste,” Ron cleared his throat and waved his wand over his head.

===

As they soared through the night sky, Ron flew alongside Harry, casting a concerned glance at Hermione when she finally caught up with them. She wasn’t the fastest flier, given she hasn’t ridden her broom in a long while. You okay, love? He asked his girlfriend, who looked a bit peaky. 

I’ll manage , Hermione responded through their shared link. 

The nausea was well worth enduring as they arrived at the facility under the cover of night. The full moon hung low and bright, revealing everything they needed to know without having to do it themselves. As they’d anticipated, the dead had overrun the place. Reanimated prisoners shuffled aimlessly across the sprawling fields, while former guards slammed their bodies against the perimeter fence.

From above, the center’s structure appeared largely intact. Further inspection was required, however, to truly assess its condition. One glaring issue was immediately apparent: the main gate had been breached, likely during the initial outbreak. They’d need to find a way to secure it if they hoped to make this place safe enough to stay. As the American Muggle saying goes: Go big or go home .

“This place is bigger than I expected,” Ron said, a low whistle escaping his lips as he took in the sheer size of the compound. His eyes lit up as he spotted the watchtowers at five major vantage points. “Those towers would be good for sniping, or keep a general lookout. We could probably repurpose some with an expansion charm.” 

Hermione giggled. It has been a while since Ron was excited over something. When his older brother, Bill, gifted him the compound bow he had slung over his shoulder for his birthday was the last time she’s seen him practically glow . 

“We can’t get too excited,” she cautioned, always the voice of reason. “There’s a lot of cleaning ahead. Hopefully, we have enough bleach to cover the entire place. If not, we’ll need to scavenge for more.”

The poor man’s excitement dimmed slightly at the thought of cleaning. “Don’t remind me,” Ron grimaced. 

“Nothing wrong with a bit of elbow grease, I suppose…” Hermione mused, taking the snitch back from Harry with a nod of thanks. Her expression sobered as she surveyed the compound below.  “That’s a lot of bodies to burn,” she noted grimly. 

They had started burning corpses days after discovering the dead could walk. Growing up with two Muggle medical practitioners for parents, Hermione was well-versed in standard safety and sanitation protocols. She had also developed a proclivity in virology, recalling a particularly blunt medical student’s advice: “If you don’t know what the fuck it is—burn it .”

Of course, Hermione knew that reading a few books didn’t make her a doctor. But she was grateful that her best friends listened to her knowledge. Whatever this new strain is, they did not know what it does and how it works. 

“Should we clear an area first? The field should suffice, and then we make camp.” Hermione glanced at Harry for his approval. The only thing that greeted her was a small pop . “Harry?”

He had disappeared. 

“Motherfucker—” Ron seethed, having seen Harry apparating to the open field, his broom still in the air. Mid-flight Apparition, what can the man not do? “He’s about to take all the fun. Again!”

Hermione had an inkling on what Harry was about to do. He stood in the middle of the field, drawing every walker to him. She had to act quickly. “Then we have to make sure no one sees the blaze. He’ll light this place up like a beacon. Ron , you and I prepare the wards. Now! ” 

The two began circling around the vicinity on their brooms, wands arcing above their heads, muttering, “ Cave inimicum ,” over and over again until a stream of light surged from the tips of their wands, tethering to the air. The ward slowly knitted together above the facility, this would cancel out any sound and smell, and render them completely invisible. 

When the wards were finally settled, Harry unleashed Fiendfyre . 

Hermione hovered closer to her boyfriend. “Brilliant, isn’t it?” She said with reverence at the display of power before her. 

“If only he’d tell us,” Ron muttered, watching the cursed fire rage below. “And to think Crabbe somehow managed this?”

“Not without losing control and killing himself in the process,” Hermione reminded him, mesmerized by the inferno dancing around Harry, reducing walkers to ash. “Harry has always been brilliant, but this…” 

Fiendyre required complete and absolute control over the sentient inferno. The caster would only risk killing themselves if they bit more than they can chew; Crabbe was a victim to his own magic turning against him. But Harry… Harry conducted the sentient inferno like a maestro, his wand guiding the fire’s path with precision. He had complete dominance over the cursed flame. 

Suddenly, the inferno transformed itself, taking the form of a majestic snow owl. A familiar one. Hedwig, Ron and Hermione realized simultaneously. They watched as she soared through the field, leaving ash in her wake. 

Tears stung Hermione’s eyes. Even in death, Hedwig protected Harry at whatever cost, not letting any walker bypass her flames; she was his first loyal friend after all. No one could compete with that owl for that spot. 

First as Harry’s Patronus, and now the very thing that will grant them sanctuary. Hedwig would always be missed. 

With a final, sweeping arc, Hedwig spread her fiery wings above Harry’s head before vanishing completely. Harry stood alone in the center of an ashen field, every single walker outside the perimeter fences and within reduced to cinders. This was the power of a controlled Fiendfyre, this was undeniable.

Hermione and Ron sprang into action, they swooped closer to the ground and began banishing the ashes with their wands. Within moments, there was no evidence of fire or walkers—as if nothing had happened at all. Harry mirrored their efforts inside the compound. He had closed the main inner gate before any other stray walker could walk out, and for extra measure, he charmed it locked. With the added help of Ron and Hermione, together they levitated a flipped truck from the parking lot to block anything from the other side. 

It was a temporary fix, but it would do for now. 

Accio map , Hermione whispered, pointing her wand trained at the main building. The response was overwhelming—not just a few maps, but seemingly the entire supply came soaring through the air.

“Blimey,” Ron muttered as the papers settled around them. He snatched one that landed near his feet before Hermione could summon it. His eyes widened as he scanned the map. “Place is fucking huge,” he said, passing the map to Harry. 

Harry’s brows furrowed as he examined the layout. The facility was huge. 

“What was that about elbow grease you were talkin’ about, ‘mione?” Ron chuckled at Hermione’s gawking face. “We’re probably gonna need more bleach. This is gonna take us weeks,” the redhead lamented. 

Shaking her head from the shock, Hermione tugged on Harry’s sleeves. “Have you noticed it too?” She asked, noting Harry’s small nod. “This place was already overrun.”

There were reanimated guards, inmates, and regular citizens, which meant that the place was overrun from inside the compound. No one made it out alive, it seemed. The main gate was completely shut, the only breach was from the innermost gate—the gate Harry concealed. 

“Then that means there're heaps of supplies in there for the taking,” Ron chuckled and scratched the back of his head. He was itching to get a move on but the fatigue was catching up to him. The Wideye Potion wasn’t going to last. “I already feel the potion leavin’ my body.”

“Set up camp,” Harry said decisively, unsheathing his sword. “I’ll take first watch.”