Intensity

Disclaimer: This story contains characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc. and AOL/Time Warner, Inc. No profit is being made and no infringement is intended.
Song lyrics used belong to Matchbox Twenty, and again, no profit is being made and no infringement is intended.

Chapter Two

#One boy head strong,
Thinks that living here's just plain#


“You're a prick,” Hermione told him calmly, almost at a whisper as their lips separated.

“So you've stated on more than one occasion,” Draco smoothly replied, unaffected by her offensive mannerisms.

“And still you refuse to get the message,” Hermione remarked with a sardonic bitter smile.

Draco slid behind Hermione as she had moved away from him and slid his hands over her hips while his lips moved to the conjunction between her neck and shoulder bone, halting her from her pacing around the large privet room. “I don't hear you complaining...” he whispered.

It was true; as much as they argued in their respectable positions throughout daily life, when it came to the privacy of her bedroom, Hermione could never turn Draco away. He made her feel the way not even Harry had in the beginning stages of the relationship. That is, when they would scream out loud their love for each other. It seemed, Hermione was finding, that hatred was a more excitable and noteworthy feeling for extreme orgasms than the declaration of true love. And how she did hate Draco.

“Mmmhm...” Hermione sighed as Draco's lips returned to gently sucking and licking her hot skin.

“You like that... whore?” he asked, smirking.

Hermione turned to face him at the comment he addressed her with and stared into his grey eyes.

“You know I fucking-well like that, you arrogant son-of-a-bitch, now get on with it and screw me.”

That was not a request.

Draco pushed Hermione down on the four-poster bed that all the students had been used to during their school days, and, in no gentle or caring way at all, ripped Hermione's knickers off from under her skirt and chucked them across the room while plunging his tongue into her mouth to dance with her own. Her hands moved swiftly to unbuckle his belt which currently denied access to what eagerly desired to be released into her touch.

Once the belt was lost and the smart, black, wizard-designer trousers were pushed down, Draco moaned into Hermione's mouth as her small and gentle hand wrapped itself firmly and so naturally around his hard member.

Draco slid his hand teasingly up her thigh, stroking her hot skin gently. Inching his way further up, Hermione slid her body downward to speed up the contact. As punishment, Draco retracted his hand altogether from her inside leg and moved it to run through her wild, tangled hair. Hermione pulled her lips away in protest, although her hand continued its steady movements up and down his hard shaft.

Draco captured Hermione's lips again in his, and she was powerless to refuse. She knew it was wrong. She knew she shouldn't be doing this now, here, with him. Her husband was lay unconscious just a few floors down.

But why should she care about him? Why should she feel guilty about this sinful pleasure she was experiencing? Why should each memory of the countless times she'd fucked this enemy of theirs make her resent herself?

Because even through the animosity that had built up between herself and her husband, she had to at least pretend to love him, even if it was only for her own sanity. Her whole life (at least in this magical world) had been spent idolising this one person, spending every free minute with him, protecting him, worrying about him.

After Ron's death in a surprise Death-Eater attack about eighteen months ago, a few months or more before war was actually declared, Hermione and Harry found themselves that much more alone. They sought comfort in each other's arms, and after only a month or so together, they were headed down the aisle. Everyone around them said it would never last; it was all just an act to prove they could move on without the third member. They took none of it, claiming of course to be in love, and that it took such an event as losing Ron to make them finally speak out about what they want in life because, as demonstrated, it can be taken away at any moment.

Utter bollocks.

They were in it for the shag; for the feeling of companionship in the dark nights when war was closing in and the smell of death was in the air. Harry would wrap his strong arms around Hermione in comfort and protection. And she appreciated it. She needed to feel wanted and cared for. Losing somebody she had spent her entire adolescence with could make even the most heart-warming events seem cold and meaningless. Harry made it less so.
And she did the same for him. When he would stumble home, tired and aching from the extreme Auror training for the destruction of the Dark Lord, Hermione would be there to pick him back up, give him welcoming arms to return to.

However, as the months slowly passed, the lust that once comforted them and gave meaning to their relationship died down, as they both came to accept the loss of their friend. They grieved separately for him, and that did nothing but push them further apart. They were so used to living together as a trio, life became off-balanced almost without Ron. The couple would bicker about stupid points, just taking their frustration about the whole situation out on each other. The strong arm of Harry's would no longer reach across and hold Hermione close in the darkness of night as it once had done, and the passion Hermione's eyes were previously aglow with no longer sparkled with want or need. They became dull and sullen.

Looking into these eyes now, Draco saw no hint of the dull life Hermione had become accustomed to, full of loneliness and sadness. They were now alive with lust, passion, desire... and hatred.

He knew he was the only one in recent months to get her in such a state, to evoke all of these feelings from her, more incredibly all at once. [She groaned into his mouth as his warm fingers finally met her hot, wet pussy. She arched her back to close the distance between her body and his own.] He was certain that not even the great Boy-Who-Lived had ever made Hermione come as quickly and as intensely as he could. He was sure she had never been as overcome with emotion as she was every moment she spent beneath Draco. And this, in effect, made him almost somewhat grateful for the war and its devastating effects, despite the tragic losses suffered by both sides fighting.

Hermione kissed Draco harshly on the lips, bringing him out of his thinking process which she could tell was beginning to occur due to the fact the pressure from his fingers was lacking and he was looking at her eyes. Not into her eyes, mind you, at them. They would never look within each other's eyes, because that's what people did who cared for each other, who were searching for something.

They both knew what they wanted, and it didn't involve a whole lot of eye contact. The only feelings Hermione had for Draco were those of intense hatred, and, at moments of intensely breathtaking orgasm, a radiation of appreciation may also run through her veins for allowing her to forget about the real world that sat just outside the door, even if only for a moment.

Draco responded harshly, kissing Hermione back with force and lust. That was another feeling that the two held for each other; lust. They were passionate in their acts with each other, and the lusting feelings they had would only have to overwrite the hatred for just a second for them to find themselves pressed against each other, lips melted into one.

&%^$

The day after their initial “encounter”, Hermione had been settling into her room in the Gryffindor tower when she had been interrupted by Hedwig dropping off a note from Harry, requesting her presence.

“Hermione, didn't come see you out of the hospital wing yesterday as had Ministry business so come down to the Hufflepuff C.Room, am resting there. Stop by the kitchens on the way too for me, haven't eaten in ages. Hurry up. Harry.”

Hardly a “love-note”.

So, he had “Ministry business”?

Yeah, right.

Hermione took her time to finish unpacking her belongings which the House Elves had dropped by for her that morning, and then slowly made her way to the kitchens to pick up some food for Harry. Although Hermione herself hadn't eaten in a few days, she couldn't bare the thought of eating while the smell of death lingered in the hallway every time somebody opened the front doors to allow another tired or injured fighter inside. She felt sick. Constantly.

Arriving at the old Hufflepuff common room, Hermione entered and scanned the room for her husband. He had visited her about every other day while she resided in the hospital wing, and never had their conversations gone as they should have. He would dictate to her what had been happening outside, the death count for both sides. He almost seemed to enjoy watching Hermione become agitated by the fact she couldn't go out and help instead being bedridden for weeks.

The room, filled out with splays of cushions and blankets had an air of tranquillity, set up with a charm to relax the occupants and allow them to dream not of the horrors they had to face during the day but instead sleep calmly and undisturbed. Voices were hushed and a faint light illuminated the room. Hermione spotted Harry sat with Ginny in the corner of the room, talking quietly and smiling. She hadn't seen either properly smile like that since Ron died. She wished she could be let in on whatever it was that allowed for their brief happiness, but as she neared them they looked up and, upon noticing her presence, their faces returned serious.

“Hey, Hermione, how are you? I see the scars are looking better to the last time I saw you, anyway,” Ginny commented. She had visited Hermione a few times a week in the hospital wing, and greeted her friend with a pitying smile.

“Yeah, they're much better already thanks. Although Poppy isn't sure that they will ever really fade, but they don't hurt quite so bad. But how are things with you, Gins?” Hermione replied, putting on a false mask of pacification.

“Yeah, I'm doing okay thanks. Mom seems to be a lot better since we've left Grimauld place. You know, sad memories there,” Ginny contemplated a moment, as did Harry and Hermione upon comprehending just what “sad memories” was a reference to; Ron. “Anyway, I know you'll be wanting to catch up with each other,” Ginny said, looking between husband and wife and standing up. “So, I'll leave you in peace; see if I can't help anyone out in the greenhouses.”

Ginny hugged Harry and Hermione, bidding them farewell and quickly exiting to see if anyone could do with some extra hands in brewing remedies.

“Well that was rude,” Harry commented as soon as Hermione had sat herself down and Ginny was out of earshot.

“Excuse me?” Hermione asked in indignation.

“You, making Ginny run off like that. We were having a perfectly wonderful conversation before you came down and made her feel uncomfortable.”

“Are you actually being serious, Harry? You are blaming me for our friend wanting to leave a married couple alone? You are unbelievable,” Hermione remarked, with disbelief and confusion glancing her features.

“'Our' friend? Excuse me, Hermione, but I think you'll find that without me, you wouldn't even speak to Ginny.”

There was no need for words; the look on Hermione's face said it all.

“Well come on, Ron only became friends with you because I managed to convince him you were worth a try. And I was the one that dated Ginny-”

“Yeah, for like a week in sixth year! For God's sake, Harry!” Hermione interrupted, standing up and pacing across the room, her voice raising dramatically. “So is this the welcome I get back from recovery? A 'hi, you have no friends, now fuck off so I can get back to being the saviour the world is looking for?' Well, you know what; you're an arsehole Harry, and I request you do not speak to me for quite a while.” With that, Hermione turned on her heal and strolled out the room, ignoring the faces of curiosity watching her march out the door.

Once outside the so-called 'tranquil' room, Hermione fought back the tears which were forming in her eyes. There was no call for Harry to talk to her like that, especially in referral to Ron. He knew how much his death had affected Hermione, and so telling her he never really wanted to be friends seemed a little unjust, even for Harry's low digs.

She took a deep breath and continued down to the dungeons. She thought she might as well try to help out down there in the brewing of healing remedies after she was a patient who consumed enough of their time in coming up with a solution for her over weeks.

However, before she got to the classroom in which the brewing was taking place, she was forcefully grabbed from behind and shoved against the damp, dark dungeon wall.

“Malfoy!” Hermione cried out.

“Sshhh!”Draco hissed, covering her mouth with his hand. “Be quiet, unless of course you want to get caught.”

He leaned his body in against hers, and she could feel his quickening heart rate beat in time to hers. She wasn't sure if hers was rapidly increasing due to anger at Harry, shock at this situation, fear of what Draco might do to her, or anticipation for a re-enactment of the previous day. She settled on the first three ideas. Admitting the last was too large a step for someone so recently out of recovery.

Draco, sure that Hermione wouldn't try to fight back in any way, relinquished his hold on her and stepped across the dank hallway to open one of the doors. Beckoning for Hermione to enter, he followed her into the darkened stock cupboard.

As soon as he closed the door behind them, he had Hermione up against the stone wall once again, only this time he was lifting her up so that her legs wrapped around his waist, as they had done the day before. She complied, not stopping to wonder why he was doing this as his mouth came down on hers and their tongues darted rhythmically in and out of each others mouths.

Eventually Hermione found the self-control to break their kiss and look at Draco, breathless and aroused.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered in the dark.

“I thought that would be obvious,” he smirked.

“To get revenge... because I'm Harry's wife,” she stated, as if telling herself instead of asking him.

Draco took it as a question anyway, and replied: “No, that's why you're doing it; to get revenge... because you're Harry's wife.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I want to get revenge on Harry? He's my husband; I love him.”


“If that's true, Hermione, then why are you in here with me?”

&%^$

Shrugging on his robes, Draco silently left Hermione's dorm, the way he always did. No goodbyes, no staying over, no lovingly gentle kisses and promises of a next time. Just stand up and leave. The way they both wanted it.

How he continued to make her forget about everything baffled Hermione completely. She had never been able to lose herself so emotionally in a man before, and Draco was just the most unlikely candidate to engage in regular meaningless fucks with.

A sharp knock on the door startled Hermione out of her reverie, and she turned to face Amber, the healer on duty who had issued Hermione with an overdue rest earlier that morning.

“Sorry to disturb you, Hermione. It's just that we received an owl saying that there's been a few fatalities in the battle this morning and they're on their way. We could really use a hand if you're feeling up to it.”

Amber, only just a year younger than Hermione herself, held a look of concern in her eyes for the troubled witch. She looked like she hadn't eaten for weeks, and the bags around her eyes suggested that with even all the breaks the other helpers were giving her off her duties, she was still unable to get any rest. Along with everybody else that knew her, Amber put it all down to the condition her husband was in.

The terrible fate Harry Potter was currently facing, however, also happened to affect the rest of the nation; he was the saviour they needed to free them from the fear of Voldemort, and everyone was holding their breaths for his recovery. Hermione's current state was not enviable; if Voldemort overcame the side of Light, at least the captives would have their families and loved ones. Hermione however would lose the last person she had to hold onto. Ron already cruelly taken from them, the couple now only had each other.

“Of course, I'm sorry, I didn't actually mean to stay up here for so long, time just... got away from me I guess,” she explained, meaning of course she hadn't expected Draco to turn up and shag her senseless for god knows how long. “I'll just get my wand and be right down.”

Amber smiled, and left the dorm for Hermione to gather her thoughts for a moment before joining the real world again and facing the victims of war.

^%&^%

TBC

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