The Last Man On Earth

The Last Man on Earth
By: Snapes_Goddess


Hermione stood in the upstairs window and watched the dark figure outside move along the perimeter wall of the property that she had claimed as her own. They were moving too fast to be one of them which left her shaking with both fear and curiosity. It had been at least two years since she had come in contact with another survivor. Two years of living alone, imprisoned within the walls of a small piece of land outside of Surrey. More than two years since the day that the end of the world began.
For years she had scoffed at the boys when they would sit and discuss their survival plan for the ‘zombie apocalypse’. She had cast their antics off as the over active imaginations of young men who craved action and adventure, as if their lives had ever been lacking in either! Then, as if a nightmare had come to life, it was no longer something living in their imaginations but a reality. It began in the muggle world, a tragic accident in the development of biological weapons that released a toxin into the atmosphere that reanimated the bodies of the recently departed.
Not only did it reanimate the bodies but it triggered the most basic of human instincts, the need to feed. Babies are born with the instinctive need to suckle; zombies are born with an instinctive need to devour living flesh. Some scientists said that the toxins created a psychotic craving for adrenaline, or serotonin, some claimed it was endorphins, but they needed living flesh. It slowly crept through the muggle world before crossing over into the wizarding realm. People succumbed quickly, including her friends. So much for all their big survival plans, she was the only one who had made it. How had she survived? Not by making any great stand, but by finding a hiding place, stocking it well and holing up, that’s how!
She watched the dark figure move and suddenly felt a surge of excitement. She wasn’t alone anymore! There was someone else out there, someone to talk to! She hurried away from the window, her wand clasped firmly in her hand as she ran down the stairs and un-barricaded the front door. The air was crisp outside and the fog so dense that droplets began to form on her skin as she moved quickly across the yard. She looked around to make certain there were no zombies nearby and then released a section of the wards protecting her house.


“Who are you?” she shouted. The figure stopped and turned slowly towards her. She could see that it was a man from the clothes that he wore but his face remained shielded by the hood of his cloak. His shoulders were heaving and she could see the little clouds fogging the air in front of him as he tried to catch his breath. Then, as if in slow motion he reached up and slowly drew back the hood. “Oh bloody hell!” she swore as Lucius Malfoy shook out his long blond hair.

“You? You survived?” he asked incredulously.

“I could say the same of you!” she snapped. Of all the people in the world it had to be him? She watched him look back over his shoulder with a panicked expression and followed his gaze. “What?”

“A small herd of those things is not far behind me,” he said, looking back at her. “We should flee.”

“No, jump the fence,” she said, gesturing with her hand that he should hurry. She was rather stunned to see how lithely he moved, posting off of the stone wall and leaping over it quickly. She hurriedly began replacing the wards, shielding the house and the small yard from the group of creatures breaking through the tree-line.

“Is this place safe?” he asked, looking up at the house.

“I’ve been here for two years,” she said softly. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen so many at one time.”

“I seem to be encountering them in small groups,” he said, watching the slow, awkward things move along the fence, oblivious to the two of them standing within its protected center.

“How did you manage to be running around the countryside?” she asked as she turned and took the path back to the house.

“It’s funny, well, perhaps not funny, but ironic maybe that my home would withstand a war but not the walking dead,” he said, following her into the house and watching as she set extra wards on the door. “You don’t take chances, do you?”

“No,” she said succinctly as she kicked off her shoes and moved into the sitting room. “I moved around for the first year, going from safe house to safe house, and hiding from those things as well as other, desperate survivors. I don’t know what posed a bigger threat, the zombies or the survivors.” She moved to a small side table where tea was laid out and fixed them both a cup.

“How did you end up here?” he asked, gratefully taking the cup that she offered.

“I stumbled across it while on the run,” she said, moving to the window to watch the things still sliding along the fence-line. “It seemed perfect, isolated, solid, fortified with the fence…I quickly cleared the property and the house and began setting up for the long-haul. The cellar is stocked with food, I have a vegetable patch in the back, some chickens, some pigs and cows, and medical supplies in a small bedroom, I go out once a year to scavenge for supplies but that’s becoming more and more difficult as there isn’t anything new being produced.”

“I haven’t seen another living person in over a year,” Lucius said as he moved in to stand beside her. “I was beginning to think I was the only person left on the planet.”

“What happened to your family?” she asked softly.

“My wife passed away about a year before this … atrocity …began,” he said. “The last time I saw my son he was a mindless creature devouring a kitchen elf in my parlor.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, laying her hand on his arm in sympathy.

“What of your friends?” he asked, shaking off the memories of his only child.

“The Weasley family was wiped out early on while visiting an aunt in Holland. The last time I saw Harry was when I locked him in a pantry at his house when he tried to eat me,” she said with a tight expression on her face, “and not in a good way.”

Lucius’s brow arched at her side comment, somewhat surprised at the rather lewd images her words evoked. He watched her walk away, settling herself onto one end of a large sofa and drawing her feet up beneath her. She appeared healthy, young and robust. She looked strong, despite the conditions of the world around them. She was pretty, he thought, somewhat surprised. Perhaps he had just been too long without the company of another human being, or perhaps too long without the company of a woman, but he felt the slight stirring of interest as he stared at the petite bundle of curves curled up on the sofa sipping her tea.

“Hermione, I want to thank you for coming to my aid and offering me sanctuary here in your home,” he said, setting his teacup back on the side table. “I have been running for a long time, it is an honest to goodness pleasure to be inside a home, safe, with company.”

Hermione stared at him, shocked by the genuine gratitude in his voice and in his eyes. He looked tired. He was leaner than she remembered, but he appeared strong and healthy. He was as handsome as always though a bit more weathered from a hard existence on the run. She wanted the past to come back and knock her back to her senses, for the memories to flood her mind and force her to throw him out, but they didn’t. Instead she stared at him, her body warm with thankfulness that she was no longer alone, that someone else had managed to make it out alive, even if that someone was Lucius Malfoy.

“You are welcome,” she said. “There is a working bathroom upstairs and thanks to a spell we have hot water. Look in the wardrobe of the small blue bedroom and you’ll find some clothes that might fit you from the people who lived here before.” She caught the look of longing that crossed his face and shook her head. For such an arrogant man to be so grateful for something as simple as a bath attested to the sorry state of the world.

“Again, I offer my thanks,” he said, bowing slightly as he moved quickly to the hall, pausing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Second door on the right,” she said, smiling softly as he nodded in thanks and bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She listened to his booted feet thudding against the wood floors above her. She could hear the soft rustle of clothing being removed and then the whine of rattling pipes as he turned the water on. She giggled at the muffled groan of pleasure she heard as he stepped into the blessed comfort of hot water.

“Oh, boy,” she sighed, moving from the sofa to the window once again. She could no longer see the creatures that had been chasing Lucius. They had likely wandered into the woods, moving on, wandering aimlessly through the country until something else—or someone else—presented itself as a potential meal. She looked up at the sky, the setting sun casting it in beautiful shades of pink, orange and lavender and wondered if the world would ever look familiar again.


She pondered her situation as she moved around the small kitchen and prepared the evening meal. She wasn’t a bad cook, but her expertise lay in simple foods, not the gourmet fare that a man like Lucius was used to eating. It had been over an hour since he disappeared upstairs. She had been so touched by his expression of gratitude that she couldn’t bring herself to disrupt his solitude.
She waited for him another thirty minutes before she decided to go upstairs and check in on him. Hermione kicked herself for not checking him for bites before locking herself inside the house with him. With that thought she pulled her wand, just in case. As she neared the bedroom she could see that the door was cracked open slightly allowing the soft sounds of snoring to escape. She pushed it open another few inches and caught her breath. There he was, face down on her bed, naked as the day he was born…sleeping soundly.
“Poor man,” she whispered to herself as she closed the door. She smiled a little as she headed back downstairs. She would dine alone and wrap his meal for him. Eventually he would wake up and he would be famished. “Damn, but he’s beautiful,” she muttered as she sat down at the small kitchen table and proceeded to eat her pasta dinner. As she sat there alone, thinking about the sight of the naked man sprawled across her bed, she felt a shiver roll up her spine. Her skin prickled and her muscles grew taut as the delta between her thighs heated and began to grow damp with longing.
She finished her meal and cleaned up, taking a moment to cover Lucius’s food and cast a charm over it to keep it warm and ready for him when he woke. She was trying desperately to ignore the urges of her body, urges that she had thought long dead. It would probably surprise many to learn that Hermione was a passionate creature. She craved intimacy and passion. Her sex drive had been extremely healthy since she was old enough to find pleasure at her own hand. She could barely remember the last time she had been with a man, she could scarcely recall the last time she had touched herself! After a while it just stopped mattering, it was a selfish pursuit, one that distracted her from what was important. Survival.
The lengthy dry spell was the most convenient explanation for why her hormones were going crazy. She was too long without the touch of a man. Pondering that excuse--which she knew to be a lame one but Hermione wished to cling to her denial that she was attracted to Lucius Malfoy—she made her way up the stairs to make use of the shower. Twenty minutes later she was trudging back down the stairs wrapped in white silk robe, her damp hair curling wildly about her head. She was too riled up to sleep. She wasn’t used to so much excitement! Not anymore. For the last couple of years her life had been quiet, and routine with only the occasional rush of adrenaline when she would go out on supply runs.
“Maybe a drink will help,” she said softly as she moved into the sitting room, crossing the floor to the low liquor cabinet/bar set beneath a window. She reached inside for a bottle of scotch and a high-ball glass, setting both on top before pouring herself two fingers of the dark amber liquor.
“Are you sharing?” Hermione started at the deep voice that intruded on her silence and turned slowly.
“You are awake,” she said dumbly.
“My stomach woke me,” he said, stepping deeper into the room. He was wearing an old-fashioned pair of men’s drawers consisting of knee length white linen fabric with a tie closure at the waist. “I’m afraid I was too hungry to think about transfiguring something more appropriate. I assumed you would be asleep.”
Hermione handed him the glass she had poured for herself and then reached for another glass, filling it with an equal amount as the one before it.
“I couldn’t sleep, there was a wizard sleeping in my bed,” she said, smiling. “To survival,” she said, raising her glass.
“To survival, and companionship,” he returned, lightly touching his glass to hers before taking a healthy swallow of the scotch. “Not bad.”
“I found it in an abandoned manor house,” she said. “Did you find your dinner?”
“Yes, thank you again, Hermione. I am not sure how I will ever be able to express my gratitude at your generosity,” he said. “And I apologize for falling asleep on your bed. It has been so long since I have slept—really slept—and felt rested.”
“I remember what it was like before I found this place. Always sleeping with one eye open, always expecting that at any moment one of those…things…was going to pop out from somewhere. Once I had this house and the grounds fortified and cloaked I slept for days,” she said.
“Your wards are remarkable, I did not detect them when I was moving along the perimeter,” he said, impressed.
“Well, one thing I always seem to have these days is time to read,” she said. “About the only thing I took with me when I fled were my books.”
“You took books?” he asked incredulously.
“I know, I know…priorities,” she said, rolling her eyes and taking another drink. She turned towards the window and looked wistfully out at the clear night sky. A clear sky wasn’t common in England, clouds almost always were present, but tonight was one of those rare, beautiful nights when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and everything was bathed in the soft blue glow of moonlight.

“It almost seems normal, doesn’t it?” he said from beside her. Hermione didn’t turn to look at him so he took the opportunity to look at her. She was young, way too young for a man of his age but he couldn’t help the reaction he had to being close to her. He had been running, running, running for what seemed like an eternity. He had spent so much time alone. For the first time he knew what meant to be hungry, cold, filthy and afraid. The only thing that had ever come close was time in Azkaban.
“Yes, there are times I look out and everything looks as it should…but it isn’t.” The sadness in her voice was moving. How long had it been since anything other than fear had touched his emotions? Had anything touched him since the loss of his son?
“Do you ever think it will be the same again?” he asked. He was mesmerized by the glistening tears at the corners of her eyes. Her skin fairly glowed in the moonlight, illuminated from within with youth and health. He had always heard that the eyes were the portal to the soul; Hermione had a very old soul.
“I imagine that in time the natural process of decay will eventually end the hordes. The population is very nearly diminished and the survivors few and far between. On my last few runs for supplies I saw more and more of those things just lying on the ground rotting in the sun. Fewer and fewer seem to be walking about now, with changes to societal rules and how we dispose of our dead, it may be possible to rebuild society,” she said thoughtfully, her voice tinged with hope.
But Lucius wasn’t listening to her thoughtful words, he had followed the light of the moon down to where it seemed to spotlight the opening of her robe. He could see the top curves of her breasts and the shadowed cleft of her cleavage. His mouth watered at the sight, his cock rising beneath the borrowed pants. He didn’t think, it was if his body had a mind of his own as he reached out and with gentle fingers traced the cleft between her breasts.
Hermione gasped at his touch. She wasn’t expecting it but couldn’t seem to make herself move away from it. His gentle fingertips stroked the line of her cleavage, so lightly that it tickled. Like match to tinder her body felt as if it went up in flames. So she didn’t move, she just stood there, continuing to stare out the window as he touched her.
When she didn’t move away from him his touch grew bolder, his hand sliding in between the silk to cup her breast in his hand. She began to breathe heavily, her chest rising and falling quickly, pressing her flesh deeper into his hand with every inhalation. He stepped closer to her, the front of his body pressed along her side. He could smell the sweet lavender scent of her skin and hair as he continued to fondle her. His cock hurt, he was harder than he could ever remember being in his life.
His body was screaming at him to just take her, to slide behind her, life the robe and bury himself deep inside her. Or drag her to the sofa, lay her down beneath him and drive his cock into her. But, despite the fact that the world had gone to hell and all civilized society was gone, Lucius couldn’t bring himself to treat her so callously. So he reigned in his rampant lust and continued with his seduction of the lovely, generous witch who had literally saved his life.
“Hermione,” he called her name softly and her eyes fluttered closed. She swayed towards him, her head falling back and to the side, resting against his chest. It was a submission. Her face tilting up towards him was an invitation to taste her lips and he accepted with pleasure.
Hermione whimpered softly when his lips covered hers. He tasted her with a gentle hesitation at first, tenderly stroking her lips with his, sipping at her mouth carefully as if gauging her acceptance that this, despite everything in their past, was going to happen. She turned towards him, her hands sliding up his chest until her arms could twine around his neck, one hand burrowing into the hair at his nape and the other gently kneading his shoulder. She kissed him back, her lips parting beneath his to allow him entry to her mouth. As his tongue dipped into her mouth she could taste him, a unique flavor mixed with expensive scotch. His tongue taunted and teased, sliding against hers as he pulled her closer to him, his arms locked tight around her waist, his hand kneading the lush globes of her backside.
The kiss grew in intensity until neither could breathe easily. Hermione pulled back, tugging gently on Lucius’s bottom lip with her teeth as she did so. She looked up at him, her eyes heavy lidded and glazed with the lust burning its way through her system. Her lips were swollen and cherry red from his kisses…and wet.
“Okay,” she whispered softly, gently pushing against his chest until he began to backup, stopping only when the edge of the sofa hit the back of his knees and he fell to his bottom on the cushions. Her hands were shaking as she reached for the knotted silk at her waist and untied the robe, letting it fall open and eventually slide off of her shoulders into a pool of shimmering white at her feet.
“My gods,” Lucius muttered. He began to wonder if he were dreaming as he stared at her, completely nude with inch after inch of creamy white skin glowing ethereally in the moonlight. He could see her swallow hard as she stepped closer, coming to stand between his spread knees. He sat up straight, his hands coming to rest on the soft curve of her waist as he leaned forward to press warm, wet kisses against her stomach. Her fingers threaded through the hair at his temples and she tilted his head back so that he was looking up at her.
“Don’t hurt me, Lucius…and don’t get me pregnant either,” she said.
“I’ll be careful,” he said, leaning forward once more to whisper a spell against her lower abdomen. Warmth radiated through her and she knew that he had taken the precautions to protect her.
Hermione closed her eyes and focused on the pleasure of Lucius’s mouth moving slowly over her torso. His warm lips and tongue tasted her inch by inch, moving upwards slowly. The tip of his tongue traced the under-curve of her breast, tickling the sensitive and rarely touched skin. Higher and higher his mouth traveled, his hands following the lines of her curves to cup and plump her tender breasts for his attention. Her nipples pebbled and peaked, swelling and straining towards him for affection. He didn’t disappoint, his lips closed around one sensitive tip and it was sucked into the heat of his mouth. He suckled her gently, and then lashed the pouting tip with his tongue, rubbing the rough pad against her sensitive flesh until she couldn’t bear it and then he would move to the other one. Back and forth he moved between her breasts until her knees began to shake with the strain of trying to remain on her feet.
“Lucius!” she cried, her nails biting into his scalp.
“You are delicious,” he said, kneading her breasts and staring at the red and swollen tips, longing to take them back into his mouth. His eyes trailed lower to the soft caramel colored curls that crowned her mons and his erection jerked painfully. “I need to taste more of you,” he said. His voice was low and raspy as his hands slid along her waist and hips, sliding backwards over the softness of her bottom.
Lucius wanted his mouth on her, wanted to taste the slick sweetness that was melting between her thighs. He wanted to feel her pulse against his tongue, swell against his lips as he drank of her sweetness. He wanted to swallow her pleasure and know that it was because of him. He nudged her back slightly and slid to the floor in front of her. He clasped the back of her left leg and urged it up and over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she panted, already knowing the answer but unsure that she was going to be able to handle it. She was ready, more than ready, to come and she was afraid she would fall and hurt herself when she did!
“Hold on to me,” he growled. One of his hands was clasping the back of her thigh and the other had come up between them and began to gently explore the slippery crevice of her sex.
“Oh sweet Circe,” she gasped as his fingertips brushed over the burgeoning bud of her clit. Shockwaves moved through her as he searched out all of her secrets. She was wet, soaked in fact, and his fingers moved with embarrassing ease through her folds. He stroked her tender flesh, his touch brushing against and around her clit briefly before sliding lower to circle and test the weeping opening. One long finger parted her neglected flesh, sliding deep inside her heat to stroke and tease.
“You’re so tight,” he groaned. The way her flesh clung to his finger, pulsing and clasping…it was going to feel so damned good to slide his cock inside her. “And wet,” he said, sliding another finger in gently beside the first. She felt his hot breath against her a second before his tongue swiped between her swollen folds and rasped over her tight nub.
“And delicious,” he said just before he buried his face as much as he could between her thighs and began to torture and tease her with his tongue. He lapped at her with the rough, flat of his tongue and tickled her with its tip. He licked and suckled at her tight little pearl as he stroked her with his fingers, intoxicated by the taste of her arousal and enflamed by the greedy clasping of her vagina around his fingers.
“Oh God, Oh god, Oh god, oh….oh….” Hermione chanted incoherently. Her hands were fisted in his hair, her foot digging into his back as she tried simultaneously to pull him closer as she tried to pull away. The intensity of the pleasure bombarding her body was mind-blowing and she was terrified that she wouldn’t survive it. Lucius shifted the angle of the fingers penetrating her and doubled the efforts of his voracious feeding at the fount of her body. Higher and higher she climbed, the pulsing swell of her sex growing tighter and tighter until finally, with one last circling stroke of his tongue against her clit Hermione fell over the precipice. She screamed, the sound barely audible however as she struggled for breath. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her and Lucius was there, his wicked tongue and talented fingers dragging out her orgasm until her knees threatened to buckle.
“Oh no you don’t,” Lucius said hoarsely as he held on to her, steadying her as she slid her thigh from his shoulder. “We aren’t finished yet,” he said, shifting on his knees to shuck the linen drawers and release the erection raging painfully between his legs. His balls ached and he knew he wasn’t going to last long once he got inside the wet, hot slickness of her quim.
“That was…” Hermione gasped when Lucius grasped her around the waist and unceremoniously yanked her down astride his thighs.
“That was nothing,” he drawled as he wrapped his hand around the base of his aching cock. He stroked the head over her wet and sensitive flesh, circling her clit with the purple, weeping tip. “I won’t last long,” he said, pushing the plum shaped head down to that tight little hole still pulsing from her orgasm. He nudged inside, groaning at the greedy sucking of her cunny as it pulled him in. “But I promise I am going to fuck you so good you won’t ever want me to leave!” He thrust inside her and shook with the pleasure of being balls deep inside the tight heat of her body.
“Or maybe,” Hermione said softly, looping her arms around his shoulders and planting her feet firmly on the floor, “I will fuck you so good you won’t be able to leave.” Lucius could only clasp her rounded arse in his hands and hold on as the witch began to rock and roll her hips over him. The strength in her thighs was incredible as she managed to lift and undulate her body, stroking the length of his cock with her pulsing sheathe. Again and again she would roll her hips, slide along his length until the tip was all that remained inside her before sliding back down again until the plump lips of her pussy kissed his balls.
He was seconds from losing it, the witch was stealing every ounce of strength and willpower that he possessed with her wanton movements. But he needed her to come with him, needed to feel those sweet tissues pulsing around him like a tight, hot fist. He reached between them, took her clit between his thumb and forefinger and began to stroke it, rolling the little nubbin between his fingers. It triggered an urgency in Hermione, and she began to move franticly on top of him. She rode him harder, faster, all the while crying “More, more, more!” until finally a raspy “Yes!” escaped her lips and he felt her flesh clamp down hard around him.
He moved his hand back to her buttocks and held her in place as he thrust through the pulsing, sucking flesh until his own orgasm was ripped from deep inside his balls, his hot, sticky seed splashing against her cervix and coating the walls of her sex. They clung to each other, breathing heavily, their bodies slicked with the sweat of their exertions.
“That was incredible,” Hermione murmured against his shoulder.
“Beyond incredible,” Lucius replied as his erection softened inside her.
They stayed like that for several minutes before getting up and making their way back upstairs and back into the shower. Beneath the spray of warm water Lucius couldn’t help himself and Hermione found herself pressed against the cold tile while Lucius thrust between her legs, quickly carrying both of them over the edge.

In the wee hours of the morning Hermione lay on her bed and stared at Lucius sleeping so soundly beside her. She understood his exhaustion. Not only was he mentally exhausted from trying to survive, but he had to be physically exhausted after a night of nearly non-stop sex! She remembered what it was like to finally feel safe and able to rest and expected that he would sleep soundly for a day or more. She reached out and pushed his hair back from his face, smiling when he snuggled towards her and draped his arm over her waist.

“I never would have imagined this,” she said softly, knowing that he couldn’t hear her. “Not in a million years….even if you were the last man on earth.” She said, touching the tip of his nose. “Who knows? Perhaps you are the last man on earth….and you are all mine.”