Ye be warned.
There are character deaths ahead. It can, and will, happen at any moment.
However, feel free to review and ask for possible scenarios, love interests, etc. I'll be happy to know thoughts since I haven't planned those things into the story yet.
Also some foul language. I don't use icky language myself, but if I feel a character, or a story is suited for it, I'll include it for world-building sake.
After those two warnings – enjoy! Don't mind my terrible spelling and grammar ;)
That I should Rise and you should Not
A Crossover Fanfiction
Just so folk can get an idea of the characters in this crossover I'm going to list them here – and then as more are added I will increase the list where necessary. (Not here, but further on, don't want to give anything away.)
The Walking Dead Cast: (based on the TV show, not the comic books)
Theodore 'T-Dog' Douglas
Biters/Walkers/roamers - the undead
Harry Potter Cast:
Fred and George Weasley
Origonal Character Cast
Semuyeru (Sam) Maz
Skyeola (Skye) Maz
Harry sat up. On either side of him, in the dim moonlight, Ginny and Luna lay undisturbed in exhausted sleep. He was not surprised. Sirius had kept them moving all day, swiftly, without break, to try and find a place to camp.
The rundown shack Remus had discovered, some distance from the road they had been following, was the best they could manage. It was at least undercover, and the fire they lit to warm the girls was hidden from…Them…
Harry shivered. Curling his knees to his chest. Them.
Hermione had coined the term Biters. Not even Professor Lupin knew what they were. They weren't magical. This was—what had Hermione said—natural—a pandemic. He crinkled his brow, rubbing his scar. It had become a habit. It no longer hurt, at least, it had not hurt in a long time, but some things were hard to change.
Shifting the blanket aside Harry heaved himself onto his feet. He stepped over Luna, moving to the tiny kitchen of the shack. This had to be some sort of hunter's getaway, once upon a time. They had uncovered some coffee, a few cans of baked beans. Ginny had set about making flat bread out of the flour she discovered, along with the condensed milk.
Harry lit the stove with a softly muttered spell and set the coffee pot on to boil, laying out two mugs. He stared at the flames lapping at the wood.
He tried not to remember the horrors fire bought back to his mind. It was not just the burning cities scorched into his memories, the echoing boom of falling bombs as planes flew overhead, it was the dancing of hot fire alight on the tents at the Quidditch World Cup that had begun it all.
He crinkled his nose. Morgan Le Fay. He hated how much his stomach still curled in recollection.
Pouring the hot water into the chipped mugs he stirred the coffee. There was no lovely English tea about, straight coffee was bitter, but it cleared the head.
He wandered back into the tight living room. Passing by the twins curled up on a single couch. Fred and George could sleep anywhere, honestly. He smiled at them both, shaking his head fondly.
He found Draco by the window, studying the world outside, his silver eyes catching any movement in the darkness. He raised a hand in greeting as Harry seated himself on the large chair's armrest, offering the mug of coffee.
"You're not due to switch watch for another hour." Draco accepted the drink.
"I know…" Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Can't sleep. Bit restless."
Draco hummed into the rim of his mug. "Coffee won't help that."
"Yeh, well," Harry took a gulp of the bitter liquid, "clears the head."
"You need to get drunk."
"Sirius would kill me, twice."
Draco snorted a soft laugh. "True. True."
"Any of Them out there tonight?"
"A few." Draco propped his mug on his knee. "Caught Professor Lupin out on prowl half hour ago, though, so I think he's keeping the perimeter pretty clear."
Harry nodded. None of them knew what it was about the werewolf within their old professor, who kept insisting they call him 'just Remus' but they all kept refusing—on principal Hermione would retort—but the Biters did not like the smell of the wolf that lingered within the man.
Perhaps it was because there was something underlining wild about him beneath the surface. Hermione summarized that if the Biters were truly the dead come back, and all they existed upon was instinct, then naturally, would they not be afraid of something which could tear them apart?
"At least they're afraid of something," Harry murmured.
"I can drink to that." Draco took a gulp of his coffee.
Harry curled his knees to his chin. It baffled him, sometimes, the oddity of his situation. If someone had told him a year ago, that he would be sitting having a decent conversation with Draco Malfoy he would have told them they were dreaming. Yet here he was, being chummy with the boy he had once refused a handshake from.
The world had changed so suddenly. Dramatically, everything he had known had dropped out from under him—quite literally. The Quidditch World Cup had been so marvellous and thrilling, even Hermione was excited to be attending despite her lack of enthusiasm for the sport.
Oh how he loved the Weasley Family for being so welcoming to him and Hermione. They bustled and bristled around them both like they were a part of the clan. Mrs. Weasley had made them all special Quidditch jumpers and bundled up cakes to eat. He could still recall so perfectly the way her face had smiled, how sweet she smelt, just having come from the kitchens, covered in sugar power. Her hugs could cure colds, he was sure of it. That was the last time he had seen her. It was the last time Ginny, Ron and the Twins had seen her.
Everything had been going fine, so wonderful, he had loved every moment of the Quidditch World Cup—until the Death Eater attack, the killing of the muggles. The chaos that had ensued after that, getting lost in the burning tent city, tumbling over dead bodies, only to discover those bodies moving, grappling, groping and eating. The horror had almost blinded him. He lost everyone in the mayhem.
Then Draco had struck him and dragged him through the flames.
Honestly, he had never been so relieved to see someone he considered an enemy.
They had found their way back to the Weasley's tent together—and—and
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his coffee mug tightly. Even now the scene was clear in his mind, scorched there to never leave, like a curse.
At the time none of them had known that the dead came back, they did not understand what monsters those dead became, so the shock, the horror, of watching Mr. Weasley and Percy become overwhelmed by vicious, hungry men and women—some faces they had known—was so striking they could not even comprehend it. Ginny could not even scream. Fred had simply grabbed his little sister around the waist and hauled her over his shoulder, and they had followed Draco as the Malfoy heir cut a path through the flames.
By the time they reached a safe distance, the shock had sunk in.
Everyone had started talking. Harry could recall Ron's demands to go back, George and Fred—for once in their lives ordering their little brother to remain—Ginny's tears against his shoulder as she sobbed.
"Shut up!" Draco had bellowed, throwing a boot he held into the centre of the circle they had formed. "My Mother made this, it'll take us to Sirius Black."
"How can we trust you?" Ron had screamed.
"Because my parents are dead. We will be soon too if you do not do as I say!"
"He's telling the truth." Luna grabbed the boot.
Luna knew, somehow, always, when someone spoke truth. Her words had been enough to sway him. Harry had surged forward with her. At his movement, everyone followed and the moment Draco's hand touched the boot, the horrible swirl of a portkey enveloped them.
They were dumped in the foyer of 12 Grimmauld Place roughly, landing on each other, arms and legs twisted about.
He could still recall Sirius' face, as well as Professor Lupin. No one was supposed to know about 12 Grimmauld Place apparently, but Draco seemed to know all about it, and had launched himself at Sirius, babbling something about his mother's last words.
Harry needed only to look at both his godfather's faces. They knew something horrible was going wrong, indeed, as they had stood and assessed their wounds, the sounds from beyond the walls finally began to seep in.
12 Grimmauld Place was not safe either.
Hogwarts was deemed the only truly safe place by all.
Harry was sure that perhaps, if they had taken the time to think, to pause and contemplate a little bit, they might not have made the mistakes they had ended up making. Perhaps Ginny, Ron and the Twins would not have seen Percy and Arthur ripped apart—perhaps Neville would still be alive.
The emergency portkey to Hogwarts that Headmaster Dumbledore kept within 12 Grimmauld Place was activated. All eleven of them had gathered around it.
Luna, Neville, the Twins, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Draco, Professor Lupin, Sirius and himself. Eleven. Was that the problem, he had often asked himself. Had they overloaded it? Or had it just been a fluke. He tried to believe it was just a fluke, it made him feel less responsible.
The portkey had gone haywire. Even now he could still feel the stinging pain of the chaotic twists and turns that had sent them all spiralling out of control. They'd lost Neville somewhere in the swirling mayhem, the boy had accidently let go. His scream haunted all their nightmares, Harry was sure. They would have lost Luna too, if Sirius had not grabbed her by her wrist. He had broken it. Sometimes she still held it as though it hurt—though perhaps the memory of Neville falling away from them was what hurt more.
When they had finally landed, in some pasture, spat out of the magical whirl-wind it had taken a long time to figure out where they were. Professor Lupin was unbelievably worried, and Hermione seemed just as anxious as they searched for road signs in the middle of no-where.
Draco had finally taken pity on his dumb face, apparently, for which he was immensely grateful. Everyone seemed to forget he was not as clued in on the whole magical travel thing.
"We've jumped continents, we're not in England."
He must have looked like some sort of fish, his mouth just hanging open. "I thought…I thought that wasn't possible without an international portkey from the Ministry."
Draco had raised his eyebrows. "Accidents happen..."
They all should have been angry. Ron was, for a while, but it sort of just—did not seem useful to be so angry when the world was collapsing around them and they were spectators watching on as whole cities were burned and bombed. Professor Lupin and Hermione managed to gather bits and pieces of information and news, putting together the scenario that had taken place.
Pandemic. That word. Harry cringed. A pandemic. A worldwide pandemic of the dead coming back to semi-life. Draco had spent the first month in utter silence. His whole life shattered, his whole reality collapsed around him. Sirius had to build him back up, piece by piece.
Ron, Ginny and the Twins faired a little better, they had each other to build strength from, but he knew the grief hung over them. Ginny had woken many nights, early on, screaming in terror, unable to escape the vision of her father and brother dying in the manner they did.
Ron had smiled at him brightly one day, seeming all cheerful and buttery. "Well," his best friend had chirped, "at least you don't have to worry about You-Know-Who anymore."
It had struck him at that moment, walking down the road beside all that remained of his friends—and someone he once would have called an enemy, his godfather and a beloved professor. His life was gone. No more Hogwarts. No more cursed Summers at the Dursleys. His wish to be rid of them had come true, but it had taken the world to end for it to be fulfilled.
He had looked to Draco and seen the hollowness in his silver eyes and he understood, in that moment, what the blond felt.
They were free.
They were free.
But the world had suffered for their freedom.
Collapsing to his knees he had sobbed. He just could not stop the tears. Ron was completely baffled. Ginny had no idea what to do with him. Draco had approached and gently given his shoulder a firm pat before Professor Lupin urged him back onto his feet.
"Come on Harry, we can't stay here, They're coming."
And so they had kept moving forward in a land none of them really knew much about. Magic helped, he supposed, but it did not solve all their problems. There was only so much one could do, even with magic.
"You know." Draco stirred him from his thoughts. "We should go on a supply run tomorrow, everyone should be pretty safe here. We're pretty low…and I know the girls need some stuff."
Harry narrowed his lips, glancing back at Luna and Ginny. Somethings magic truly did not help with, like the typical things that came with being women. He was sure they would appreciate some sanitary products.
"We passed by that local general store sign…means something has to be coming up the road."
Harry nodded. "I'll bring it up with Sirius in the morning." He glanced at the dog lying by the fire. "You head to bed, Draco, I don't think I'll be sleeping anyway."
Draco heaved himself out of the chair. "Wake me if you see anything."
Harry tipped his head. "Will do."
Slipping down easily between Ginny and Luna, Draco rolled around, burrowing into the blankets. Harry watched him briefly. He was asleep almost instantly, collapsing from fatigue. Hooking a leg under his chin Harry turned his attention to the window, studying the dark world outside. The tall trees were still. Nothing stirred but the dead.
"I never would have thought, Voldemort, that I would find something to fear more than you…" Harry whispered.
The morning air was crisp. Harry crinkled his nose. Winter was finally over, but it kept reminding them of how cruel it had been. He waved a fist mockingly at the sky between the tall pine trees. He heard Draco chuckle beside him. The blond finished tying up his beaten shoes, giving them a firm pat as he stood.
"As I'll ever be." Harry tipped around toward the door of the shack. Hermione was saying goodbye to Ron, as she always did before departing on a supply run. Ron never went. The one time he had it had been a total disaster worthy of never speaking about again, so they never had. It was best, Harry had decided, to let those who were good at being quiet, and who knew what was needed, to take the risk. Sirius had agreed, though it irked his godfather that all three of them had to go at once.
"Come on Hermione!" Draco called out, "Or we'll leave without you, and then you can snog all you like."
Hermione swept away from a heavily blushing Ron and bounded up to them.
"It's a nice thought, Draco, but I'm not trusting you boys again. A pureblood prince and…" she eyed Harry, "someone who can't tell a tampon from a condom."
"Hey!" Harry pouted. "You said you wouldn't mention that again. Sirius didn't stop laughing for days."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Just trying to be a gentleman."
"You always do try." Hermione shouldered her pack. "Never works."
The door to the shack opened again, Professor Lupin exited. He finished clipping a blade to his belt and Harry glanced away from the rusty thing. He had seen the damage the werewolf could do with it, not just on Biters, but on anyone who threatened them. There was something to be said about the strength of a werewolf—it was mighty handy to have around.
"You all have your wands?" Professor Lupin strolled past them.
"Yes sir." Hermione quickly caught up with him, matching the man's strides.
"Good, keep them close. Let's keep this tight and clean. As usual, we'll pair up. If we get separated by the Biters, apparate back to the shack Draco."
"Yes sir." Draco nodded.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut briefly. It was frustrating that he had not yet got the hang of long distance apparating. He could manage it over a short distance, at least a few feet, which had got him out of a few tight spots, but over further distances he was still struggling with. Draco said it was a mental block. He was pretty sure his friend was right.
He was terrified of being lost in the whirl-wind of chaotic magic—just like Neville.
Draco was working with him on it, but for now, the blond stuck by him as best as he could.
Apparently pureblood kids learnt all about the skill from a young age from their house-elf nannies. He supposed it was rather like how muggles always watched their parents driving, and therefore, just innately knew the skills better. He was muggle-raised, did it stand to reason that was the reason he struggled a bit more?
Tah. Lucky brats. Harry chuckled as he trotted after Draco through the woods, catching up them by the edge of the road. They crouched behind a discarded car, peering out.
A Biter was munching on a fallen deer.
"Harry, you deal with that will you, while we get the car running." Lupin motioned.
Harry nodded. He pulled out his knife. Sirius had been very strict about their wand use. Wands were precious now, they only had one wand, and a wand could be snapped. While both he and Luna were quite skilled at wandless magic, the others were not. It was ever more difficult for some Wizards who did not have Druids in their ancestry. He approached the Biter, which only rounded up on him when he was a few feet away.
He pitied the Human it had once been, his heart aching. She would have been a beautiful woman once and now she was nothing but a decaying corpse. It just was not right. It was so awful. One of them he could deal with—it was when they came in numbers that he felt the terror of their strength. The trick, they had learnt, was to never let them get the upper hand, to never let them grab hold.
Swiftly he smashed his knife into her skull before she could lunge. The gurgling noise she made as she sunk to her knees, crumbling without muscles, but her eyes still fixed on his face, was painful.
Harry winced as he withdrew the knife and cleaned it on her shirt.
"Rest in peace now." He turned sharply and walked back to the car. Draco was dumping a baby cot out onto the road. Harry covered his mouth, his stomach twisting.
"Holy Goddess, please don't tell me—"
"It isn't in here." Draco's head popped over the top of the small car. "I promise."
"Thank Morgana." Harry clutched his knees. He did not think he could take seeing another dead baby. The first had been bad enough.
"Come on, get in," Lupin urged.
Harry slid into the back seat beside Draco. Hermione joined the Professor in the front. Harry glanced toward Draco. It was eerie, sitting beside the pureblood, with Hermione in the front seat of a tiny yellow car, their werewolf teacher driving it.
Who would have imagined, right? Draco never muttered the word mudblood anymore. He barely muttered the word muggle either, they more often or not, heard Ron mention it. Draco smiled weakly, running his hands over the smooth texture of the car's seat, his gaze out the window, watching the forest roll by.
"Odd thing, this automobile."
Hermione turned in her seat, grinning. "It is such a shame we cannot show you aeroplanes."
Draco shook his head. "I saw enough of them, thanks. I saw what they could do."
Hermione sighed. "No everything muggles created were made to kill, Draco."
Harry propped his head on the car door window. This conversation again. Draco and Hermione could not help themselves, but then, what was Draco supposed to think, truly. His encounter with the mundane world had been pretty ruthless—guns—bombs—death. Hermione always did try to tell him of the wonders, but it never did seem enough to outdo the terrors.
Though he was pretty sure Draco was quite simply trying to get on her nerve. He chuckled softly.
They drove for a while, catching sight of a few Biters here and there, but nothing unusual. His head lifted off the window when Lupin eased the car into a slower gear. They were pulling up to a set of buildings. They looked promising. His mind instantly started to whirl with possibilities. He reached for his note book, flipping through the pages. All his life he had played dumb. He had played dumb to save himself from the Dursleys, he played dumb at Hogwarts to keep out from under the eyes of the teachers, but it never meant he did not learn. He learnt well. On his own. After all, he was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione had noticed it pretty early on, but she had also noticed why he hid his intelligence and used her own intelligence to cover for him. He was grateful for her, really, it was nice to have a study buddy in on the secret-life-of-Harry-Potter. Neville had later joined them. Then Luna. Ginny was never really into studying, she was always going to be a quidditch star, like Ron, and he loved her for it.
Harry smiled warmly, thinking of Ginny as he thumbed through his homemade transfiguration spells, each had to be uniquely designed for each product they came across. It took a lot of time on his part, but boy-oh-boy would Professor McGonagall be oh-so-freaking proud of him now. Top marks, all round, thank you very much.
"You were right, Draco." Lupin pulled into the carpark. "General Store. Nice."
Draco gave a thumbs up. "A Malfoy always knows where to get the good stuff."
Hermione started laughing. Draco joined her as they hopped out of the car. Harry followed, head burrowed in his notebook.
He looked up at Hermione's worried voice. She as pointing toward a blue van that had seen better days. "Is that…another car?"
Harry stuffed his notebook back into his pack. He drew his wand as he and Draco circled the van slowly. No one was in it, but it did look as though it had been recently in use.
"It's warm." Harry lifted his hand away from the bonnet. "Someone else might be here."
Lupin frowned. "We procced with caution. They may be friend, or they may be foe. There is no reason to jump to a conclusion until we know for sure."
They nodded in unison.
It was not always the dead they had to worry about these days.
The living were just as frightening—if not more so.
Sam studied herself in the rear-view vision mirror of the craggy old van. She turned the mirror slightly, catching sight of the stumbling Walkers ambling along. Three of them was not too much trouble out in the open, but considering her husband had been more than five minutes, and all he had said he was going to do was pee—well—
With a heavy slam she booted the van door open.
The Walkers swung in her direction, alerted by the sound.
Her fingers traced the handle of her machete, worn by her sweat and blood. Twirling it she approached the three Walker at a fast paced jog. She was small, it took a considerable amount of force behind her swings to do damage. Thankfully all her years of ballet training had been worth it, she was fit, she was flexible, she was agile and it was damn lucky in this new age. With a loud shout she hacked into the head of the first Walker, foul smelling blood splattered her cheeks. She reared back, kicking out, sending the body tumbling away. With a flourishing twirl she hued off an arm that came for her throat. For being already dead, Walkers sure knew how to grab and their grip was fiercely strong.
Sam yelped as her arm was grabbed abruptly. She heaved back on it, hacking at the foul creature yowling for flesh.
The swung rock crack across the skull of the Walker. It's grasp around her wrists loosened. Another swing and the skull cracked. The decaying body crumbled, freeing her. Sam yanked away, panting heavily.
"You all right?" Her husband stood over her, anxiously hovering.
Sam rubbed her wrists. Damn. They were too darn strong for being dead. It was going to bruise. She nodded quickly.
"I'm fine, it just surprised me." She glanced toward Skye. He was crushing the skull of the Walkers with his steal capped boot, as if making sure they were truly and surely dealt with.
Most folk would have mistaken him for a foreigner, considering his mixed heritage, but his accent was heavily American—while he had been born in India, he had only known America. Indeed, it amused her that his parents had been grand adventurers and he had been so landlocked. She supposed—perhaps—it was a blessing when civilization had collapsed around them, that she had been the one to come to him and he had not come to her. That she had chosen to abandon her prim and proper life, she doubted her parents were alive today—but she was.
She was here because Skye's parents had known how to survive, and therefore so did their son.
He swaggered up to her.
"I thought I told you to stay in the van."
"I thought you were just pissing."
He tsk, tsked his tongue. "Mother would not approve."
She almost retorted that his mother was not around, but the lump in her throat caught her of guard. It was still to raw. She could not joke. Not yet. It might have been months past, but the reality was still—it was still too real, the screams, the terror, the faces of those—despicable—men—no—monsters.
"I was worried." She propped a hand on her hip.
"Had it covered." He swung his pack into the back of the van. "Come on. I thought I saw a sign for a general store some way back, we might be in luck today."
Sam crinkled her nose. She flicked blood from her machete. "Fine."
Skye's hand rested on her shoulder, he drew her in, kissing her forehead. His chin was bristled, unshaven, he smelt of their camp fire the night prior.
"I love you," he whispered.
"I know," she mumbled in reply.
Clambering into the van they ambled along the road. The day was a nice one, Sam concluded, had the world not been crumbling around them, she would have thought they were on a beautiful spring weather drive through the country side, but the constant reminders of the chaotic mayhem, the deaths, the ruins of what they had once known, were scattered about.
It was hard to ignore them. She closed her eyes, settling back into the chair, briefly touching her stomach before letting her hand slip away. This was going to be hard—
She was jolted awake by the van jerking to a halt.
Skye muttered an apology. "This old girl has seen much better days."
Sam yawned, stretching. She peered out the window at the general store. It looked—hopeful. Who was she kidding, what was hopeful these days? Skye hopped out of the van, grabbing bags. Sam followed. They studied the exterior of the shop. Sam propped a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow. It was rather rare to find a place that had not already been raided, but they were still possible, after all, the land was large and people were growing less and less over time.
Skye moved around the front silently, testing the windows and doors.
"No booby-traps?" Sam asked as Skye studied the front entrance.
"Not that I can see. Though this would be a very good trap." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I would make this a trap."
"Your mind is awful." She rolled her eyes.
"Thanks love." He flashed her a charming smile.
He had taught mixed marital arts in a youth centre run by his parents. It was one of the few reasons he had actually left America, otherwise she was positive he would have remained where he was for all eternity. Perhaps his mother had known he was that sort of lad, who needed to be kicked squarely in the rear end to do anything. Skye had to be motivated by something immensely powerful before he decided to take action. It was frustrating, but she did love him, even the frustrating parts of his personality. She was the arrow tip of their relationship, she supposed, and he was the tail-feathers who gently urged direction from behind the scenes.
She had technically met him at a tournament in Japan—briefly—so briefly their paths had crossed, and like the gods had ordained their joining, they had kept in touch. Okay. Sooooo—maybe she had kept messaging the mysterious sexy man with legs of iron, but meh, it was the gods. Totally. She had nothing to do with it…at all…
But then again…she had been the crazy one who jumped on a plane to marry a man on the other side of the world.
Sam crouched behind him as he tried the door handle. It did not budge. He gave her a gentle wave of his hand and she rolled her eyes, stepping away as he prepared to kick it open. It was, apparently, not as easy done as in movies and tv shows, but boy did the kids at the shelter adore it when he had done it for laughs.
Legs of sexy iron. She was sure of it.
"Well. If there are any Walkers around, you gave them a welcoming call."
Skye grinned. He gave her head a pat. "Just so I can save your pretty little butt."
She shoved him aside. "Shut up, watch my pretty butt from back there, handsome."
"Totally okay with me, love."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
Despite the light of the windows leaking into the small shop it was still dingy and dark. Sam pulled out her flashlight. The air smelt foul. Likely meat and fresh produce had long begun to rot or worse, somewhere, dead bodies were going foul. She knotted her nose in disgust. Snatching up two baskets Sam swung about to Skye.
"I'll go shopping for us, heh?"
"Sounds good. I'll go check if I can find us a new battery for the van, and some possible spare parts, you know, stuff like that, from the garage next door."
"I'll be in here, being all domestic housewife."
Skye bent, kissing her briefly.
"Scream a damsel scream if you need me." He waved.
"I'll come running if you do," Sam retorted.
His laughter vanished. Sam stuck her flashlight in her mouth, continuing her wandering through the shelves. Every so often she paused, noticing something of worth to add to her baskets, and soon she had not just baskets, but had set aside boxes by the door, stacking the items by their usefulness. They never knew when they might find a place to settle down for awhile—she hoped it was soon—but it was unlikely.
She crouched beside her stash, smiling faintly, proud of her work. A small frown touched her lips. "Oh, right…" her hand lingered on her waist. "That thing I needed. Damn. Where would that be in here?"
She twirled about on her heels. Would they even have it?
Sam poked her head down each row of shelves, slipping into the most promising possibility. Her fingers traced the dust absently as she crouched. Painkillers. Good. Cough drops. Good. Bandages. Another plus. Tampons, always helpful. Ah. She sighed heavily.
Sam stared at the pregnancy test. Her hands were trembling. This was so stupid.
"Ah, screw it." She grumbled. "No one is around anyway…"
Standing Sam picked up her basket, heading for the back of the shop.
She set the pregnancy test aside, buckling up her belt and seated herself on the stack of crates.
"Well, this is officially the craziest thing I have done in my life." Sam murmured. Her hand reached for the pregnancy test. Her stomach felt sick. Surely it was just nerves.
The crates shifted. Sam jumped up, her heart bursting from her chest in a sudden panic as a Walker grappled for her foot. She landed roughly on her face, cursing and spluttering as her flashlight rolled away.
"Shit." Snagging her machete from her belt she swung it, lopping off the hand that gripped her ankle. "Where the hell do you guys come from! I mean. I was making so much noise."
Her head snapped toward the swinging back door of the shop. Three more Walker's staggered in.
"Skye…" Her eyes widened. "Oh no…"
They came at her. She was roughly shoved against the broken window of the shop's management office. Sharp pain made her react as her arm was sliced. Swinging up a foot she booted a Walker aside, madly swinging her machete at anything. Grabbing for an arm that came to close she heaved the heavy body around, tackling it with a rush of adrenalin.
She slammed it against the wall, machete through its skull. Its vacant eyes stared back at her as its mouth moved for a brief moment in a biting action before all action creased in its limbs and it went slack. Sam breathed out, panic subsiding, she let the body drop and turned away with a soft sob, clutching at her wounded arm. She let loose a string of curses at the gushing blood. A low growl caused her head to jerk about and the nearby back door swung open.
"Oh, come on!"
She snatched up the pregnancy test and ran. She was not going to do this, not today. Her feet twisted suddenly around loose wiring. Sam yelped as she went head over heels, landing amongst the crates. The two Walkers swung toward her.
"Hey!" Someone shouted from behind. "Duck!"
She did. An incredible burst of light ignited around her.
With the tips of their wands lighting their path through the shelves of the store, Draco and Harry moved silently. They could hear soft murmurs from far back in the store, Hermione and Professor Lupin deep in discussion about something in particular. Harry kept pausing, stuffing his wand into his mouth, picking items off shelves and packing them into his feather-weight charmed bag that had no limit to space. It was unbelievably handy, and he adored it. It truly was one of the reasons why magic made life easier.
Draco was shaking his head. "The very idea that you had to scavenge for food…it still…bothers me."
"Don't know why, you've had some time to get over my Boy-Who-Lived-Prince-of-the-freaking-Magical-World-Image." Harry muttered from in between two shelves, wiggling around as he reached for a can of rice-cream. He studied it thoughtfully, contemplating the possibilities in his mind. He shrugged, dumping it in his bag. He could figure out the transfiguration duplication spell later. It was not as if he did not have the time.
Draco sighed. "Yeah. I know. It's just…the Potters, you know, it wasn't right."
"Even if my father hadn't been a Potter, it wouldn't have been right for any kid, Draco." Harry raised an eyebrow.
His friend shrugged. "True."
The fact that Draco Malfoy could admit such a thing still brightened Harry's smile, and he gave a genuine one, not the forced false smiles he knew he tended to wear as a mask. Draco returned it with his own small smile.
Harry pointed with the tip of his wand. "Can you grab that fishing gear, that might come in handy."
Draco turned about, staring for a moment before pulling half a shelf full of stuff into his own bag.
"That will do." Harry twirled on his feet. "Guess I'll just sort it out later. Oh…jackpot, soda, oh, oh, and breakfast cereal, oh, and look, waffle mixture. Nice. We can mix that with water and cook it on a stove. Oh. Oh. Draco! TEA! I found TEA!"
"Merlin and Morgan Le Fay, you found bloody tea!" Sarcastically Draco made a dancing movement with his hands. "We're saved."
Harry chased him, throwing out tickling spells. Draco dodged each one, laughing. "To slow, Potter."
Rounding a corner, they jerked to an abrupt holt, faced with two Biters.
Harry's breath froze in his chest.
Draco moved instantly, his wand moving almost too fast for Harry to see as spells flung out, cutting the nearest Biter into pieces as it lunged at them. Harry curled up in a ball, yet through the shelves, he caught sight of a shining light.
A torch. It was swinging about in the darkness.
He grabbed Draco's ankle.
"Bloody hell, Harry, don't do that, I almost cut your arm off."
"Someone…someone is in trouble."
"I don't know. Quickly."
Harry scrambled over the floor, under the shelves. A woman was crawling away from two Biters, a trail of blood—so much blood—leaking from her arm. Harry sucked in a sharp breath. Oh no. He heaved himself onto his feet, drawing his wand.
Light flared about him. Draco tore past, like lightning, swinging the beater he kept attached to his belt. He swung it, with all the force he could muster, smashing it into one of the Biter's legs, breaking the brittle bones.
It went down, collapsing.
Harry dodged past it's chattering mouth just as Draco swung again, crushing it. His friend rushed away, continuing his assault. Harry lost sight of him. He dropped beside the young woman Harry gasped out.
"Are you bitten?!"
"No, no, I just tripped." She shook her head, then, as though seeing his frantic look, she noticed her arm. "Oh, this no, no, stupid Walker pushed me into a broken window."
"Thank Merlin." Harry breathed out. "Do you think you can walk?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Ah." She began to search around them. "I lost something…did you see a little stick somewhere?"
Stick? Harry looked around. He shifted. His hand encountered something short and smooth. He curled his fingers around it and pulled it out from under a tumbled box.
Harry stared at the object in his hand. He knew what this was. This was a pregnancy test. He had seen his aunt with them over the years. Wait. Harry sucked in a deep breath.
"Oh Merlin. Oh. Dear. Oh…oh!" It was positive. It was positive!
The woman beside him smiled weakly at the positive sign. "Let's ah. Not tell anyone about this…"
"Goddess." Harry gasped. "You didn't know. Ah. Congratulations?" He tried to smile. Whatever was he supposed to say in this situation.
She laughed softly and ruffled his hair. "Thanks."
Draco's voice echoed through the shop. "Harry! Merlin, Harry! Where are you? We've got trouble."
He did not have time to grab his wand. The metal shelves rained down upon them, the two Biters tumbling over like loose leaves. Harry curled himself around the wounded woman despite the jolting pain jarring his leg as the heavy weight of the two dead walkers and the metal shelves crushed the appendages. He bit his lips. He had survived worse.
"Harry!" Light from Draco's wand lit the eerie darkness. Blood spattered his glasses as he dared to look up. A limb was severed, an arm, it went flying away. Draco always did have impeccable aim with his cutting curses. Harry smiled weakly down at the woman under him, who was blinking in confusion at the whole affair.
"Are you all right?"
"I should be asking you." She wiggled about. "We're pinned." Her hand moved, he felt her searching for a weapon but it was no use, the shelves had them wedged.
"Draco! We're pinned down. Draco!" He heard the panic in his voice.
"Sam. Are you in there?"
"Skye!" The woman—Sam, Harry guessed—yelled from under him, returning the allusive voice of a man. Harry winced as the Biters clambering for them were suddenly dragged back by the ratty clothes they wore. A man swung them away.
Draco shouted. "Watch out."
The man lashed out a leg, smashing the nearest Biter against the wall, the force of the blow crushing the skull against the bricks. His fist hit the second in the chest, sending it staggering back. Draco swept out his wand. Harry winced as the blond flung a cutting curse spell, lopping off the Biter's head.
The man was left standing in a fighting stance, blinking at the sight of the Biter's body dropping into a pile of loose, twitching muscles, and Draco holding his wand out.
"Wow." The man grinned. "That was incredible."
"Ah…thanks. You were pretty cool too." Draco gushed.
"Yeah, yeah, amazing," Sam flapped her uninjured arm, "can you please stop patting each other on the back and come get this shelf off us!"
"Sorry love." The man approached, crouching down beside them.
Harry winced as Draco quickly jumped over the fallen shelf, landing beside him, frowning at the damage. "Anything broken Harry?"
"No, I think I'm just bruised."
"You're so clumsy." Draco grumbled.
"You get that side lad, I'll get this side." The man crouched.
Draco held up his wand. "I've got this."
Though the light was dim, Harry caught the swish and twist of the wand, and though Draco's voice was barely a whisper, the spell was easily recognisable as the feather-weight charm. A good choice. The pressure around his legs was released and he sighed with relief as Draco easily lifted the whole shelf straight into the air.
The man dragged Sam free, inspecting her legs. Harry hobbled onto his own, ignoring Draco's anxious eyes.
"You always get into the worst situations. We need a sign on you."
He watched the couple. They had not reacted to the use of magic at all. Professor Lupin had not forbidden them from using magic in front of muggles. The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy simply did not exist anymore, so why bother, he had grumbled. They had all agreed. It was stupid, they figured, to not use their natural born talents in a crumbling, chaotic world to help people who did not have such gifts.
But muggles still should have been—a little—well—amazed right?
The man turned toward them, a kind smile crinkling dirty cheeks. Harry rubbed at his own skin, wondering if he looked just as grotty. It was likely so. It had been a long time since he had bothered to wash his face. Aunt Petunia would be mortified.
"Thank you, both of you." American accent. Harry frowned. It defiantly was American, but the women was not, he had no idea where the woman was from.
"I'm Skye," he touched his chest, "and this is my wife, Semuyeru."
"Just Sam," she chirped. "Sam is fine."
"I'm Harry and this is Draco. Sorry about the…ah…chaos."
Sam shook her head. "No, no, please, I am grateful you boys came when you did. Saved my cute butt."
Harry beamed at the praise.
Draco suddenly stepped forward. "Your arm! It's bleeding badly. We need to get into some sunlight so I can have a look at it."
Skye grabbed a pole from a ruined shelf and headed to the door at the back of the shop. Realizing what he was doing, Harry quickly joined him. He watched as the man cleared the Biters away and heaved the door shut. He wedged the metal through the handles, giving a heaving twist. Harry stared in awe as it bent around itself.
"Wow." He breathed out. "You're strong."
Skye gave the door a pat. "Hopefully that'll keep out anything else."
They jogged to catch Sam and Draco.
"What happened?" Sam looked to her husband. "There were no Walkers around and then suddenly…?" She swung out her arms. Draco hissed at her as he grabbed her wounded arm.
Skye picked up his heavy looking pack. "The garage was packed with Walkers. I managed to get most of them locked back in but a few got out before I dealt with them. Sorry. Had no idea they'd get back here so quickly. Damnable things."
Harry pointed to the front door ahead. "Our Professor and Hermione should be waiting outside. Hermione is always pretty punctual." He chuckled.
"She's got our healing kit." Draco hurried Sam along.
Sunlight blinded them as the existed. Harry rubbed under his glasses, squinting. The fresh air was a huge relief. He breathed easier, feeling as though a tight rope around his lungs had been released. Hermione's voice bought some cheer.
"Harry, Draco! We found all this stuff…piled…by the door…" Hermione's shout trailed off at the sight of the two adults following them. Harry motioned to them as Professor Lupin came around the car, his jaw tightening.
"This is Skye and Sam. We sort of ran into them. I think the stuff you've got there Hermione is actually Sam's loot."
"Oh…" Hermione blushed.
Skye stepped forward, bowing. "Your boys saved my wife, I am very grateful. Thank you. We would be quite willing to share our supplies with you in gratitude."
Harry whirled about. "No! I mean…no! That's not necessary. You guys…will…ah…need them." He glanced toward Sam. "Seriously."
"That is not our problem right now." Remus looked down the road.
Harry was surprised. Usually Professor Lupin was all over people they met, asking them questions, sniffing them out with his wolf. The Professor handed his battered binoculars to Skye, motioning to him to use them.
Harry leapt onto the car bonnet. He peered down the way they had come. A pit swallowed his stomach. In the afternoon sunlight the swaying of bodies lumbering down the road was visible. He licked his lips. Already he could smell their foul scent on the wind, or maybe that was an illusion. He wanted to be sick.
"That's a horde." Skye lowered Lupin's binoculars. "Damn."
"Our cabin is back that way." Remus shook his head. "I had hoped they'd disperse but no such luck." Remus accepted the binoculars back. "Which way you heading?"
"Pretty much wherever the wind takes us." Skye shrugged.
Remus held out his hand. "Remus Lupin. The kids call me Professor, but please, call me Remus."
"Professor?" Skye looked to them curiously. Harry beamed. Most people were somewhat confused by the sight of teenagers, British teenagers to be even more curious, with two adults. It was a little—odd.
"I was their Professor, once. They keep insisting on it." Remus shook his head.
Hermione piped up. "Because he still teaches us many things."
Remus' smile was a gentle one, shown by the crinkles under his eyes.
"Your van can fit more people and more supplies, would you be willing to drift someplace else for a while?"
Skye turned toward his wife, leaning upon the bonnet of the car. Harry slid down beside her as Draco finished stitching her arm. He tried not to look to hopeful, he did not want to give away her secret, it was hers to keep and hers to tell but he felt sure they would be better off with more people. His hero complex as the other's had dubbed it, was coming out.
"What do you think, Sami?"
"What are the sticks for?" Sam nodded at Professor Lupin's wand.
"Oh," Hermione jumped up, "we're witches and wizards. Well, I'm a witch, the boys are wizards. They're our wands."
Harry waited for the denial, the asking of proof but none of it came.
"Magic." Sam muttered. "All right. Well. The dead are walking."
"You believe us?" Harry slipped off the car.
"Sure." Sam shrugged, but winced from her wound. "Had the world not gone ape-ball, maybe not, but now…anything is possible. You're all magic. Cool. Whatever. Let's go." She jutted a thumb at the van. "The old-girl is a bit temperamental, but she'll get us around."
Harry helped as Hermione grabbed his hand. "Let's get this stuff packed! Everyone will be so happy!"
They floated the boxes into the back of the van, much to Skye's amusement. Harry looked to the man proudly, happy to show off. His hair was ruffled.
"I have muscles kid, I like to use them."
Harry shrugged. It was a true enough statement he supposed. He would have liked to have been just as strong, but magic sure did make things go quicker.
"A true muggle." Professor Lupin chuckled. He pulled out a map, laying it over the back seat. Hermione studied it with him, pointing out possible roads.
"We could just…drive through them?" Draco looked back to the Biters, ambling through the sunlight. They did not look so frightening this far away, but Harry felt the hairs on the nape of his neck curl. A shiver crept down his spine. This was not good.
"No idea how many there are." Lupin shook his head. "We'd never make it. I suppose we'll just have to head around the long way." He rolled up the map and looked to Skye. "Thank you."
"Nope." Skye clapped his hands. "Owe your kids one for helping my wife. Let's blow this joint boys and girls."
Sam gave a whoop. "Boys in the back! Girls in the middle. Because we're awesome, right?" She high-fived Hermione, who could not stop laughing.
Harry clambered into the back seat, Draco joining him. He turned slightly, peering out the back window at the horde. Draco's hand settled on his shoulder. "We'll be fine."
"I'm worried about the others."
"They'll be fine too, the cabin is pretty far from the road."
Harry nodded. They had left the twins and Luna on guard duty. Surely they would be all right—and Sirius would never let anything happen to Ginny, he loved Ginny like a daughter. The van pulled out of the carpark and Harry stared out the window. Ginny. He curled his toes. She would be so happy with all the tea he found.
So this is an idea I've had tossing around in my head for a little while now. Finally decided to start just writing it out. I'm very rusty on my fanfiction writing ^^; Sorry.
This is a crossover between The Walking Dead and Harry Potter and whatever other fandoms I decide to add along the way depending on how many characters I kill off. So. Yes. Forewarning guys. Character DEATHS ahead.
Also. Spoilers for The Walking Dead. Please DO NOT read if you DO NOT want The Walking Dead spoiled for you. I recently just watched Season 1 through to Season 5 in a few weeks and it's a brilliant show to watch without spoilers. So glad I had avoided them up until now. It's been a battle to avoid them for Season 6. ^^; (Which yes, I did just recently watch and OH MY GOSH THAT ENDING. AHHHH! Good thing Game of Thrones came back, or I'd be going mad not having anything in between.)
For a timeline –
This fanfiction takes place in Season 3 of The Walking Dead, and Goblet of Fire/Order of the Phoenix for Harry Potter, though I've taken some liberties ^^;
Sam and Skye are OC's from my own novels – and are in Human form, since in my novels they're aliens. So this is a fun bit of practice to get them to work in another setting.
There is art up on my deviantART page for this fanfiction – should be more coming as I get through the character list.
So that's it from me folks. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed the beginning.
Keep well. :)