A Living Cauldron

Soon, she hears Draco, "Granger, Granger, please wait; Granger slow down, damn I say wait." She does not listen, all voices and sounds are not processed in her brain, there are a discordant cacophony that makes little sense.

"Fuck, where is she going?" he is fuming as he runs after her.

He finally catches up with her, right near an edge of the Forbidden Forest. In this area, there are more bodies, and a newly erected makeshift hospital. It is an attempt to treat the dying, a desperate effort to save a few lives.

Without any prompting, they both start helping those who can be helped. It is not long before it is just too much; precisely when they run into the Weasley, they are wailing for their fallen, for their Fred.

She runs away; he catches up with her; he is dragging her. Now, they are so near the forest, that she can see shapes of hallucinations, of the heralds of death and destruction.

The only movements, which can be observed, are the ones they are making while they take off their torn clothing. He feels the curly hair, just above the moist nether lips, the ones hiding her sex that she saves for the man she will love.

At once, the reality outside of them ceases to exist. There are no more cries of pain, only whimpers, keening sounds, and loud moans; the touches, the careses, the and the feel of skin on skin, quickly, evolve into lust and savage desire.

No, tonight is not about love. Wherever you look, you see the wriggling, writhing masses of hungry mouths and open sexes, dancing a macabre song of life. She can still see the frantic jerky coupling, of Harry and Narcissa, forever etched in her mind.

She hears his cries; feels his hard, wet erection hurting her belly; he is not at all gentle; he is pulling her groin's hair with his fingers, which are in a frenzy to reach his goal. His hands roughly force her thighs open. "Open, love, open, right now," he is not asking, he is telling that he will be inside of her.

She feels Draco pulling her down, straight to the ground. He wants to lay her on a bed of soft grass. She does not resist; why should she, what is the point?

He is above her, just finds the moist entrance with trembling fingers, and when he does, just a hard thrust, a shove, forces his way in. When he feels her virginity, he tries to pull away; however, the last vestiges of humanity are quickly leaving his mind, it is too late, there is not going back. "Only mine? Only me." Are the only words out of his mouth, a bare hint of wonder. His eyes shine with a primitive possession, nothing civilized or proper.

She wriggles beneath him, trying to escape from this place, from this night, from her-own-self. What is he doing? This was not what she thought; she had wanted the heat that she felt when she saw and touched Harry; he must stop.

He feels her movement under him, and mistakes it with one of need and desire. It causes him to lose his mind to his instincts, to desires that he has repressed for too long. She is the one he dreams about every night; his beloved during his dreams of unfulfilled desire.

Blinded by lust, he misinterprets her cries of pain for those in throes of passion, and wonders why is she no longer wet. It doesn't matter, at this point all he wants is to void life into her, to kindle a spark of creation, to make room for all those whose lives were blacked-out tonight, forever.

She just lies there; the pain is too much; she even tries to push him away once more; there is no use, he is too strong, and she is too tired and just not able to fight, anymore.

His mouth is upon hers. His tongue caresses her lips, her tongue, and her entire mouth. His kisses beg her to join him in this dance. His bites, his lips fevered caresses finally find the key to open the gate of her passion. It is hard to say, if it is one of his or one of her own movements that ignites a flame of magic. It is an actual flare that originates at their joining. It is bright and full of life and magic, it is sentient and knows its direction, it must reach selected newly dead, and a couple of warriors about to make their last exit, as their souls are leaving their bodies.

The souls of their fallen are being searched by the magic being released; only they, are to be granted a new lease on life. There is magic all over the place, but this one is the only one gifted with the power of creation. They know the wishes of those creating it.

Magic is at its purest form, it combines the magic and the blood of the virgin, with the seed of the dark angel, fallen from grace. With their mixed life essence; and in the midst of all the death and destruction, the young lovers give birth to an eternal love, so great that it can expand to let other share it.

A cauldron of living, of loving, is being created. The powerful union, so near the forbidden forest full of strange magic, are all powerful catalysts to release a power rarely seen; one which grants difficult and otherwise unattainable wishes.

The joined couple tears, bites and grinds; their young bodies seeking a release not yet understood by Hermione.

She calls the names of the fallen as he brings her into an orgasm, which feels as if her body is falling apart.

The now moist walls have a life of their own; they grab and squeeze him with fierceness. He feels the burn, the agony or needing completion; his balls tighten and spout the seed of life, coming hot and fast, up the length as it builds up, about to explode.

Her clenching is too tight, it hurts him with a pain he will forever want. "Oh Fred, fuck... Moony, Tonks, Colin; Draco yes, no, ah. –Oh, Snape- please all, don't be dead, oh Merlin, oh God save me from death."

"Vince, you idiot, fuck, Godfather, why ? Granger, I don't want to die," strange words to be heard this night, not suitable for a first time coupling; one he has been waiting for all his life, since he first saw her, when he was but a child. His first wet dream has become a reality.

The geyser's pressure increases, about to burst. The music is reaching a crescendo, a high wave, and then release. It causes a tremor traveling from their legs all the way to their brains stems, backwards and forwards, reaching through the darkness of time and space.

A wave ripples through their bodies causing an agony of pleasure and pain. Hermione stares at his contorting face, and hears his screams, "fuck, oh fuck, I have won, I have won you. You, mine. Fuck, never, let me go-cannot let me go. Never leave me, oh fuck." He is screaming and moving in and out of her, short and long drives, each building up the ensuing explosion about to come, all while he holds on to her for dear life.

Each stroke, drives her further and deeper, inside a cave of sensation; a self-contained universe where only the two of them exist. All her feelings are concentrated in their joining, in the areas he touches, something is building up, and she wants it to come. She wants more friction, to experience even more, and she cries, "I am here. I am here, forever here, oh Draco Malfoy. Fuck me; hold me; never let me go. More, I want more."

His seed is coming up as a hot river, he feels its intense release and screams her name; his body clenches and tightens; his back arches; his legs just convulse; his teeth latch on to her shoulder; and his seed shoots straight into her womb.

She feels a quake and contractions start, her walls spasms make her body arch; he is even harder; and he drives in with more intent. She feels the hot fluid shooting up her channel, and she drowns in an ocean of sensation. She hears her name; his bite makes her protest at the intense pain. It soon fades as it mixes with the pleasure overwhelming her.

Waves are clashing with fury, wetting the beaches, and all is sticky and bloody as the flow comes and it goes. It is the ebbing of life, and something else is coming, it is rising from the bowls of the earth.

Just as 'it' came, 'it' leaves. Their bodies quietly lie down, still trembling, their mouths meet again, kissing, invading, fingers touching and caressing. The after-tremors follow on the first quake; a second wave of tremors commences, causing the clenching to begin once again. "Oh, Ah," "Yes, Yes, let it ride. Love I feel you, oh, oh, yes." He holds her while he whispers in her ear, and his body convulses once more.

All is finally calm; the flow is ebbing. She opens her eyes, and they both roll away from each other. She lies on her back; he lies slightly on his side facing her. He moves from her just a bit, wanting to maintain their skin to skin contact.

Then, as they lie down with their eyes opened, they see spectral forms all around them, and more leaving the forest in their direction. They are dancing some sort of ritualistic dance. Although, not human spirits, they are alive; their appendages rise to the sky, calling for something down unto them. Their ectoplasm is visible; it pulses with some form of life. They are mesmerized.

He pulls away some more, and moves just so, leaving his leg draped over her. He places his hand right over her wet place, the one he will worship, forever. He wants to feel the heat coming out of it. He cannot bear staying away from her. In some level, he understands that their souls have bonded for life.

They do not see them coming; all at once a small circle of spectral light reflects upon her lower stomach, followed by more. Although, it barely misses his hand, he refuses to break their contact. Then come the specters, made out of an undefined pulsating substance; and their forms appear to dive right into the young witch's belly. They resemble misshapen bodies of humans, finding their way into her womb. Once they touch the skin, they disappear as if they are being sucked inside.

Draco just looks, not comprehending what has happened, what is going on? He cannot stop whatever is happening, and just holds her hand and caresses her forehead. She screams and writhes in pain; it feels as if parts of the lower stomach, maybe her womb, or her ovaries, are being torn away from her.

"Make it stop, it hurts, make it go away." She cries looking at him. Her legs are folded on pain. He tries to get up and run with her. He cannot, something is keeping them right were they are. As if a giant hand is forcing them to stay at the place where they lie. He is horrified for her, but unable to do anything.

She is screaming as the pain intensifies, just as small sparks shoot out of her body. Traces of powerful magic mixed with semen, blood, and the just harvested cells, make a srange concoction that leaks out and runs down her thighs; as if lava flowing out of a volcano. However, this lava is boiling and bubbling with traces of new life. A tree starts growing right on the spot where the flow touches the ground.

At the same time, a great rush of light starts erupting out her lower groin, straight from her womb. She yells from the intense pain. The lights burst up in the sky, and a geyser of fireworks, breaks into single streams of light which disperse in different directions. The only difference from normal fireworks being, is that each stream seems to seek a specific target within the vicinity; as if they were guided missiles, they carry live cargo.

After it is all over, he moves much closer to her. Before he attempts anything else, he stretches his hand, searching in his trouser's pocket. From it, he pulls out a ridiculously small square of fine linen. With it, he gently wipes her thighs, then rolls it carefully, tucks it under him, and he holds her tight. He is stuck to her.

He reaches for her hand, and they entwine their fingers as tight as they can. She does not feel the crushing pain; only the feeling that they are alive and sharing this moment.

He slowly pulls her up. They help each other to straighten out what is left of their clothes, and dress as well as they can. He kisses her forehead, and with his wand touches a piece of his robe, "aquamenti", just enough water to wet the cloth. With it, he wipes the dirt from her brow, and when he finishes, just caresses her face once more.

Then he bends, picks up the stained linen that fell on the ground, and carefully puts it away in his pocket; it is a Malfoy's ritual thing. A Malfoy understands the power of a virgin's blood, mixed with the semen of a wizard who loves her. He just doesn't know how powerful the mix has already been, nor of the magic that it still holds and will hold. Time is bound to reveal many hidden facts.

Finally, the young couple walks away, their hands linked as if they were one. They head back to Hogwarts, ignoring the dead and the living. Not known to them, the number of the dead has changed during their lovemaking, the count has gone down. As for Hermione, she has an important spark of life growing inside her womb; the one allowed to remain.

The solitary, injured warrior, who gave a lot and was rejected by most, has finally found a new home, a loving one, with the gift of later, knowing his past life. He turned down the offer for a coming back and wanted instead a new chance, with two of his favorite people, who could wish for more, a clean slate.

Behind them a shoot comes out the ground, and in a matter of seconds, a new tree quickly grow with every step they take away from the place.