Disclaimer; All Harry Potter characters, locations, and other recognizable places and people, are the wonderful creations and brain children of a master quill: Ms. J.K.R. I do not get paid for this writing. This story is for adults only. Might be disturbing to some readers, if you are disturbed with death, and war scenes please don't read it. It also contains sex scenes.

Thanks to Savva for all her support and review work.

This is a short study on a what-if situation dealing with of a passionate encounter between Draco and Hermione. Hermione will witness an encounter that will disturb her deeply. What can happen when obscure magic is invoked in moments of anguish in the eve of so much dead and tragedy? It is one of several scenarios that I have worked on of the possible outcomes of the DH battle and its effects on the survivors. It contains lemons.


The fallen, the living.

As Hermione walks away, she senses a set of eyes ready to bore holes in her back. Lucius speaks loudly while looking at her, "Thanks, please forgive us if you can."

She looks as he brings the chord, that she unwrapped from her head, up to his nose and inhales the scent. He closes his eyes to let himself dream. He can smell her hair, her essence of purity and life. He wants to void the smell of fire, charred flesh, blood, urine, emptied bowls; all the stench of death surrounding him. She is still looking when he takes his eyes away for a minute, as he puts it away, inside his robe.

Hermione just shrugs. She remains standing. for a moment longer, expressionless, neither sad nor happy, just there. Then, she takes off at a fast pace, just to get away from everyone.

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 makeshift hospital has been erected. 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 Weasleys, they are wailing for their fallen, for 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 which is saving' 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 contacts that quickly evolves 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, forcing her thighs open. "Open, love, open," he is not asking; he is telling, forcing his way 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 forcing 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.

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, 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 he has represed for too long. Blinded by lust, he misinterprets her cries of pain for 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, making 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 her movements which ignites a flame of magic. It is an actual flare that originated at their joining; it is so bright and full of life and magic, that 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.

Magic is at its purest form, it combines the magic and esence of the virgin and the angel's, 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. The cauldron of living, of loving, the powerful union, so near the forbidden forest, is releasing a power rarely seen, granting difficult, impossible 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 cum; the seed of life, coming hot and fast, up the length as it builds up, about to explode.

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

"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.

The geyser is building up. The music is reaching a crescendo, a high wave, and then release. It causes a tremor travelling 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. 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 strokes, each building up the ensuing explosion about to come, 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 where he is touching; something is building up and she wants it 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 the seed shoots straight into her womb.

She feels a quake and contractions start, her walls spasms make her body arch; he is even harder; he is pushing 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 again.

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 clears from her just a bit, wanting to maintain their 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 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 forever worship. 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 spectres, made out of some pulsating substance; the 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 keeping them right where they are. He is horrified for her, but unable to do anything.

She is screaming as small colourful sparks shoots out of her body, whilst her blood mixes with semen and leaks out and runs down her thighs; as if lava flowing out of a volcano; however, this one is boiling, and bubbling with life. At the same time, a great rush of light starts erupting out her lower groin, her womb. The lights burst up in the sky, and a geyser of fire works, breaking intoa single stream of light going in different directions. The only difference from normal fireworks is that each stream seems to seek a specific target within the vicinity.

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, and lovingly puts it away in his pocket, it is a Malfoy's ritual thing. A Malfoy understands of the power of a virgin's blood, mixed with the semen of a wizard who loves her. He just does not know how powerful the mix has already been, and the magic that it still holds, and will hold.

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. As for Hermione, she has an important spark of life growing inside her womb. 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 knowing his past life. He turned down the offer for coming back, and wanted instead a new chance.


Who was the warrior? Use your great imagination. What were the lights? Do your own interpretation, it did say it was very powerful magic. It talked of new life for their fallen. Hope you liked it. If you want more of it let me know. Right now I am not going to start any new publishing until I don't finish the started.

Please a review. thanks