and in the gathering storm

And In the Gathering Storm

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It's some time in late May; clouds hang like thick, black smoke and a welcome break from the intense, insistent heat of the sun. It's hot, hotter than it should be, creating a heat-haze thick enough it's hard to breathe at times. They'll get used to this for as long as needed - they have to, because it's all that's left. It was so much bigger than they knew, than they ever imagined it ever could be. Harry's staring at empty, dusty landscape, and can't help thinking and then there were none. At least - at least he and Hermione fought the impeding Darkness; even if half the world was lost they fought. The wind stirs up dust and dirt and Harry squints as Hermione climbs back in the car with bottles of water, and wiping the sweat from his forehead with his arm.

“Anyone alive?” Harry asks, but he knows the answer already.

“No. Store owner is dead and so are the people who were left in there when it happened.”

Harry looks away when Hermione starts the car. Storm clouds shift, break, and then gather. Something's coming - Harry can feel it, he's seen it - A new dawn.

“You know how it ends,” Harry says. Hermione drives.

“I know.”

The humidity is suffocating and Harry remembers the heat together, him and Hermione and cheap hotels, remembers Hermione's skin and his skin and sweat; the taste of warm flesh against his lips and tongue, her hand on Harry's dick rough and insistent, whispering “Come on, Harry…” It was when there was something to live for. But now all life still left, it depends on them, and they have something to die for.

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