Brave New World Audiobook Chapter 7

[Annette Fazzari]

AfterVoldemort, there was this. The clock is ticking to create a cure to the unimaginable horror that currently grips the world. Hermione finds herself unwillingly allied with the most hated man in Wizarding Britain. (Alternate ending: 'La Vie En Rose', Audiobook by ETL.Echo.Audiobooks).

"It's too long..." - Yes, I know the story could have been split into 3 books/3 arcs, but I wrote it over 10 years with a 2 year break in the middle, and the chapters just organically happened. If you're looking for a suitable earlier terminus then I suggest stopping at Chapter 68 and treat everything after that as the epilogue.

"There's not enough romance..." - This is not a romance. It's plot-heavy. There is romance, but the Dramione moments are secondary to the action/adventure/horror. If someone recommended this to you as a romance fic, tell them nuh-uh, Rizzle said it's not.

"The relationship just came out of nowhere..." Similar to a lot of other zombie-themed stories that include romance, there's not a lot of time for MCs to process their feelings or approach romance in an orderly fashion. If you're looking for clear signposting to indicate where/when/how they fall in love, this story is not going to satisfy. I include further author's notes about this at the end of the story so as not to spoil.

Dust, mortar and bits of pulverised wood bloomed up in the air to form a noxious cloud. It still wasn't thick enough to prevent the smell of concentrated death and decay from hitting Harry and Hermione like a battering ram. The scent was strong enough to taste. Coughing and covering their mouths and noses with their forearms, wands held aloft, they entered the dark foyer.

The ones left uneaten were now completely unanimated; vestigial brain functions long gone. Azkaban had not been spared from the outbreak, but during the worst of it, Warden Seamus Finnegan had made the call to release as many prisoners as possible before sealing the front doors and containing what was inside on the inside. That included himself and five remaining prison guards who were still human and very much alive the last time they had communicated with the Ministry. Now there was no one. There was just the dark, death and the familiar gut-churning smell. The smell permeated everything.

Hermione cast the Sensor Spell again, which manifested as condensed, red-gridded blueprints. There, in Sub Basement C, Azkaban's state of the (magical) art, completely automated, maximum security wing, was Prisoner E5673. He showed up as a luminous blue, pulsating dot.

Hermione didn't have time to think about the horrors the pair had probably endured, attempting to survive the hell of being trapped in a building with two hundred newborn zombies, at least a dozen of which had been former colleagues. They'd done well to survive, for a time.

Harry eventually took the head off the male guard, who was naked with its stomach gaping open, and who still kept coming at them. A kick saw the headless torso topple over the railing, landing with a wet noise in the landing of Sub-Basement A.

The female guard lurched forward toward Hermione. It still wore its uniform, a badge and a blue hair barrette, though seemed to be missing most of its face and an arm. Its slack mouth opened hideously wide due to a dislocated, misaligned jaw. A spasming hand reached for Hermione's face.

For a goodly minute, he stared at them while they stared at him. It was a study in ironic, almost comical contrasts. The convicted murderer looked rather civilised, almost genteel. He was well-shorn and tidy in plain black robes. Then there was the rather bedraggled, bearded and slightly manic-eyed Harry. Beside him was Hermione, liberally covered in dust, soot and why yes, that had to be viscera in her hair, didn't it?

At the far end of Malfoy's cell were bookshelves groaning under the weight of books. Inexplicably, she felt the hot sting of tears. Last year, she could have plucked her favourite piece of Muggle fiction off a shelf at her parents' current residence in Australia, curled up in front of the fireplace in their den and read until the sun came up.

That was then. It felt like a lifetime ago. Now, most of the world had turned upside down. What was still right side up was burning. The idea of stories and happy endings seemed so alien and indulgent.

Hermione's attention abruptly returned to the situation at hand when Malfoy shut his book with a loud snap. He stood, looking markedly taller, paler and thinner than she remembered. She observed the small frown that appeared at his brow. A normal person would have demanded to know what the hell was going on aboveground that made it impossible for anyone to check on him in months. But Malfoy was anything but normal. You didn't keep 'normal' in this kind of prison.

Malfoy's eyes catalogued everything with a neat, precise hunger; scanning all the details presented to him. His gaze eventually stopped at her. A cold smile transformed his face from discreetly curious to calculating.

"Visitors. My, it has been a while." The words were light, but there was tension. His adult voice was soft and sibilant, with just the traces of the familiar timbre Hermione recalled from their youth.

Not in any great hurry, Malfoy retrieved the broadsheets and scanned them. His frown deepened and. At one point, he stopped blinking altogether. When he looked up, however, his face was utterly impassive. Hermione hadn't been sure what to expect. Shock, certainly. Perhaps even an attempt at dark humour. But this ambivalence angered her. Of course he cared. He had to care. Hermione tried to scry for evidence of this and couldn't seem to find any.

She pressed the button on the communication box and spoke. "Given that the virus originated here, we've been the worst hit, so the UK and Scotland are currently cut off from Europe and the rest of the world. Africa, South America, Central, West and North Asia are war zones. North and South America are about to follow suit. So far, only South East Asia, Australia, New Zealand and pockets of Oceania are reporting the greatest success in isolating their Infected."

Malfoy processed all this. "Well that would explain why Warden Finnegan hasn't come to see me in such a long while. Tell me, has he shuffled off this mortal coil? Pun intended, provided these creatures are of the shuffling variety?"

She ignored Malfoy's question about Seamus. His other question was much more pertinent. "These creatures are slow and not terribly strong as more time passes, but then their strength has always been in their numbers. And unfortunately, the Infected in the UK outnumber us thanks to the original outbreak wave."

Harry made an impatient noise and took over at the box. "The Americans are planning a nuclear strike over London. Frankly, we're lucky it hasn't already happened. What's left of the British Muggle government has managed to convince the American President to give the magical community time to bring the situation under control here."

Hermione sucked in a breath and counted to five before she shoved Harry aside and pressed the button once more. She'd rehearsed all this with Harry already, but the reality of actually having to converse with Draco Malfoy, war criminal, terrorist and murderer, was something you could never prepare for. No doubt the fact she'd known him since he was squeaky-voiced and shorter than her, added to her anxieties. It seemed a travesty that such an evil, loathsome person was needed to bring about such good.

Malfoy had moved to sit on the edge his desk, arms folded. The long parting in his robes widened, revealing a pair of slim, black trousers. Every other prisoner in Azkaban wore bright orange. Trust Malfoy to have struck some kind of deal to avoid what he probably perceived to be an unfashionable fate. Or maybe it was just that maximum security inmates adhered to a different set of rules? After all, they didn't socialise with the rest of the inmate community.

In any case, there was no sign of the pompous little bully and fledgling sociopath who never went anywhere without Crabbe and Goyle. The bully had grown into a man with blood on his hands. And not the kind that currently stained Hermione's jeans and canvas jacket.

There was a muffled crash from the direction of the stairwell. Harry and Hermione glanced at the exit. Nothing came through. Malfoy, not being able to hear anything external to his cell, followed their line of sight. He also observed Harry checking his wristwatch and giving Hermione a pointed look.

They had to confirm what American Wizarding intelligence had surmised, after going through every line of Draco Malfoy's ministry files. Otherwise, Malfoy was of no use to them free. She wondered if he knew his life was at stake. If he couldn't help their cause, they would leave him there.

"D.R.A.C.O," Hermione said, swallowing the lump in her throat. Harry hated calling it that, but the longer version continually defeated him. "We need you to tell us how to make D.R.A.C.O so I can combine it with a standard Regeneration Potion."

Malfoy left his perch at his desk and stood before her, separated by four-inch thick, enchanted glass. He put his hand against the glass, to the left of her face. She tilted her head upwards to meet his stare. It took effort, but she managed to resist the urge to step backwards. He was contained, but still crowded her.

Malfoy chuckled. "Potter, the spells that automate my air supply, artificial sunlight, the delivery of my food and the elimination of my waste will likely outlast us both. I'm probably safer in here than you are out there."

"We're all animals," Malfoy replied. "Some of us simply belong to a higher stratum than others." At this, he stared at Hermione. "Where is Weasley? Don't tell me he's succumbed? Did you have the heart to put him out of his misery or has his mother got him tied to a peg in the backyard of that lean-to he calls a home?"

Damn him. Damn, damn, damn. Hermione whirled around to the face the wall, away from Malfoy and away from the damnable concern and regret in Harry's eyes. She looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly in an ineffectual attempt to stifle her tears.

3a8082e126