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.




Intensity
Chapter Three

# Fall on real life,
Is anybody left there sane?#


“What have you got?” Hermione asked the healers gathered around a new patient; Daniella Brocklehurst.


Hermione recognised her as Mandy Brocklehurst's younger sister. She looked only to be eighteen at the most. Hermione had to keep her emotions at bay as the group of carers informed her of Daniella's condition and set to healing her.

She was so pale, so flawless. So young. Too young to be involved in a war. Eighteen was still a child in Hermione's eyes. But then, she thought, how young were Harry, Ron and herself when they were off trying to be heroes, saving the world from Lord Voldemort's wrath? 'How stupid were we?' she now thought. Thinking they could save everyone. Look at them all now. Ron, dead. Harry, unconscious. Hermione, useless to fight and shagging Draco Malfoy.

“Anapneo!” Amber calmly said, directing her wand at Daniella's throat to clear her airway. “She stopped breathing, I can't understand what those foul creatures are burning for the fumes to clog up the airways. This is the fourth case this week of this.” Amber shook her head in disgust for the Death-Eaters. They were just foul creatures.

So, why exactly was Hermione fucking one again?

Oh that's right, because he was the exact opposite of her husband, the downfall of her life. Oh, and had she mentioned he was the saviour of the god-damned world?

“Hermione, we've got this one. Why don't you go help Dominic and Corey?” Amber suggested, taking a cool silver potion to filtrate down Daniella's throat.

Upon reaching the bed where the two said healers were treating a patient, Hermione looked to see it was Narcissa Malfoy. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the damage scarring the older woman's body.

“Wh-what happened to her?” she inquired, losing her focus.

“She was hit with the 'Incendio'. Who by? No one can tell with this family. Probably both sides if they heard what information she's giving to the other,” Corey commented, obviously another who didn't quite trust all the stories the Malfoy family were feeding the Order.

Hermione looked at Narcissa's helpless form. She looked so peaceful. Somewhere inside Hermione, she wished she could just end it. Why fight so hard to save someone who will no doubt just wake up to more torturous chores? Why bother resurrecting people into this crestfallen society? Narcissa Malfoy was no known Saint, everybody was well aware of that, but Hermione just felt that no one deserved to have to put up with it anymore. With any of it. The fighting, the constant worry, the pain, the instruction just to kill more. It wasn't right. What happened to them, that women and children were now turning up as frequently as the men to be healed? That they were now sending loved ones into the world just as a soldier to war?

“So, if she isn't working for us, what then? What will you do with her?” Hermione inquired.

“Well, we can't just stop treating her. She came here in need, just like everybody else. We have to do for her what we can. We'll contact the Ministry and they can do what they will with her; it won't be our responsibility anymore.”

Hermione nodded, but her thoughts were not about what the Ministry would do with Mrs. Malfoy, they were wondering how she was going to tell Draco. She had to tell him, she felt a moral obligation if she were to spend so much time with him and not mention it. Surely, it would be only fair. However, she recognised that there usually was not much of an opportunity for words when herself and Draco were together.

As Corey updated Hermione on the status of another patient they had been treating in the week, both her, Hermione and Dominic set about healing the burns that marred Narcissa's body. A sickly feeling welled in her gut as she treated Narcisssa's arms and found the Dark Mark glowing brightly; Voldemort calling. She was less shocked to see the Mark now though, as, after several previews on Draco's arm, Hermione had become accustomed to the black glow, the shuddering movement and the almost silent 'hiss' that animated the skull.

“So, Hermione,” Dominic began. Hermione knew it was only a matter of time in his presence before he would make some inappropriate comment. “If you ever get lonely, you know, while 'the man' is still getting taken care of, don't hesitate to send me an owl. I'd hate to think of you up in that tower all alone.”

He had been after a shag from her since they first met at her training induction at St Mungo's after she had graduated Hogwarts. He had constantly irked Harry and Ron, making suggestive comments about her if they ever came in to visit her on her breaks.

Dominic wasn't unattractive, although his appearance could not make up for his foul personality. He had blonde hair, not bright like Draco's, but dirty and messy. He was unshaven and he could often be distinguished by the scent of vodka.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the remark, and continued to treat Narcissa accordingly. If only he knew how not alone she already was. She didn't need a pathetic prick like Dominic to brighten her nights. Hell, it was only an hour ago she was fucking Draco; the middle of the afternoon at his spontaneity.

If she could survive without Dominic's persuasion while Harry was the only man in her life, she was fairly confident she could manage without him while she was graced with the sinful delights of Draco Malfoy at least four times a week.

“Oh, I suggest, Dominic, that you spend less time worrying about me being lonely, as, number one, I can assure you that no matter how lonely I get, you would be the last person I would possibly call, and number two, you should probably be spending that time considering your career, as, with the standard of care you're providing at the moment, you'll be lucky if they let you near patients for much longer,” Hermione retorted with a manner of factual intellect, a manner which only Hermione Granger could get away with towards Dominic Bartlet. “And, quite frankly, if you're not providing care in here, you'll be made to fight out there, and I really don't think you'd be too keen to risk your neck, do you?”

They continued in silence; Corey intervening any time she suspected they would be thinking up a snide remark for each other.

Corey, a twenty-something radical who was possibly the only person better at the job than Hermione when she was having a bad day, was fair skinned (even giving Draco a run for his money for paleness) and held an eerie presence if one was unfamiliar with her attitude. She wore definitive black eye make-up and her hair was dread-locked. She had a slight accent, her family having moved from Belfast when she was a child. She was the best witch Hermione could name, aside from her school mentor Professor McGonagall. She was also very familiar with Dominic's suave charm, having gone to bed with him herself a few times, although never through his alone desire for a shag.
Corey was strong-minded, feminist and very much believed in getting what she strived for. She believed in women getting their needs seen to just as much as men could. Equality was what she namely fought for, thus leading her to active caring for any wounded person that should arrive through Hogwarts' doors, no matter what their beliefs.

So, there they were, tending to Narcissa Malfoy. Death Eater. Scum of the Earth and all that crap. Hermione knew though, as much as Corey and Draco knew, that Death Eaters weren't often such by choice. It was a decision made for them, and to revolt meant pain of Death, or worse.

------------------

She knew she had to tell him. Soon. She had decided she wouldn't let it get this far and not have told him the truth. She could tell something was bothering him anyway; he wasn't as malicious upon initially encountering Hermione as usual. Maybe he had heard she was missing through other means, but the set-up they had working at Hogwarts did not authorise them to publicly report when they had could-be Death-Eaters in their care, as it could be motive for an attack on the castle. Although the safest building against dark magic in the country, they still did not want to bring attention to it when it was standing as a protective home to the future generations of the wizarding world.

“Listen, Malfoy,” Hermione began the next time Draco visited her. “I need to tell you something.”

“Shut up” Draco replied, silencing her with his kiss, before ripping her clothes from her and working his way down her body. “In case you never noticed, I'm not here for your sparkling banter and conversational skills,” he snarled, before spending a significant amount of time teasing her waiting pussy before shoving his tongue into her wetness.

Hermione moaned, forgetting what it was she needed to tell him so urgently.
As they fucked each other hard and raw into hours into the night, Hermione, like she usually did, just forgot everything around her.
She forgot about Harry and his current state on the floors below.
She forgot about the loss of Ron, and how deeply that had scarred her.
She even managed to forget about her own injuries in the times of immense pleasure that Draco brought her, and was only reminded of them in the quiet moments of early morning when both Draco and herself were shagged out and he would gently stroke her neck, tracing the scars that marred her pale skin. He would assume her asleep in these affectionate moments, but she would never fall asleep so easily on these rare nights Draco remained the night in her bed.

*&^*&%&*

“Still no change in Harry?” Corey asked Hermione as they made their morning rounds.

“No, nothing,” Hermione replied.

“Why do you think that is? I mean, not to suggest anything, but people in his condition are usually awake by now,” Corey responded.

“Yes, but this is Harry Potter remember,” Hermione began with a juxtaposing air of bitterness and amusement. “He's just taking his own sweet time. You know him, wouldn't want to disappoint with a boring save of the world. Needs to do it in style after a near-death experience.”

Corey just carried on with her notes on each patient. When Hermione got like this, it was difficult to know what to say. She obviously wasn't handling the whole thing well.
She looked like she hadn't slept since Ron's death. She really could do without Harry putting this on her as well. Sometimes she reckoned Hermione thought in the same way and blamed Harry for putting her through all this again.
Who knew what went on in her head though, poor thing.

Hermione could see the pity forming in Corey's eyes. Hermione did not like pity. It was patronising. It was rude. It was a way of making one feel better about their own life. Hermione did not like to be the subject of comparison to someone who was equally worse off. No one understood; Hermione didn't care that Harry was unconscious. She sometimes wondered if she even wanted him to wake up at all, but concluded that she did only to put everyone else out of their state of panic.

She was a terrible person. She wanted her husband to die.

She had come so far from the lively girl in Hogwarts who idolised her two best friends, Harry in particular, always much to Ron's annoyance. It was Ron's death that had changed them both. Why did he have to die? Why did he get to leave all this behind, leave her where she couldn't follow? Why was she left with Harry, bitter and angry all of the time?

Hermione ignored Corey's pitiful glances and continued with her charts.


&^%^*&%^

# Past yourself, forget the light,
Things look dirty when it's on.
Funny how it comes to pass, all the good slips away
And there's no one around you can remember being good to
You #

Hermione, after finishing a double shift of healing, started her way down the corridor to take the stairs up to Gryffindor Tower. She stopped abruptly when she came across Draco's hunched form lurking in the shadows of a boarded up doorway.

“Were you ever planning on telling me about my mother?” he retorted bitterly, in almost a hiss, as if he was worried others might hear him, even though this corridor was the most deserted in the school these days.
(Hermione wondered why she still took this long root up to her dorm, when a 'Travel-Quick Lift' had been installed to allow for easy transportation between each floor.)

Hermione jumped at his tone and backed away from him slowly, as if afraid of him.

“Yes, I tried, Draco... I'm sorry,” she began.

“Whatever. It doesn't really matter now either way. Just, tell me: is she going to be okay?”

“I don't know. I haven't been treating her-” she started.

“Don't lie to me!” Draco yelled. “I've looked at her charts. Your name's all over them. You looked after her. Just, please tell me. She's my mother, Hermione. Just fucking tell me!”

Hermione trembled. She hadn't seen Draco so angry in a long time. Especially toward her.

“Okay, okay... She- she has very serious injuries. There's a small chance of her regaining full health-”

“-How small?” Draco interrupted.

“I don't know exactly. We've been trying to deduce which curses hit her where, because it seems she was hit by a few at a time. It looks tricky, but if we can work it out then she should be okay.”

“But you just said there was a small chance of that. What's the problem if you work all that shit out?”

“The problem, Draco, is that working all that shit out is considerably harder than it sounds. I've studied every book in the school, and nowhere in any have I even come close to discovering what curse hit your mother.”

Draco was stuck for words it seemed.

“But, she's my mother,” he whispered, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. “She, she never wanted any part of this. She always told my father to keep the dark arts away from the family. She didn't want me getting caught up in any of it,” Draco seemed to have forgotten Hermione was there, and spoke seemingly to himself, staring down at the floor. “I argued with her, I told her I was interested, and that she should listen to my father because men must be smarter than women. I told her she was less of a human being because she was female. She only ever wanted me to be safe. I was her only child and-”

“You are her only child. Don't talk about her as if she's already gone, Draco,” Hermione added in with a quiet, soothing tone. “Don't lose hope yet.”

Draco's eyes suddenly changed from sullen and lonely to angry and bitter.

“Don't fucking tell me what to do, Granger! Like you even give a shit. You lot have wanted to off my family for years, don't pretend otherwise. Don't pretend you're sorry. I don't need your bullshit, or your pathetic, meaningless apologies,” he shouted, making Hermione take a step back.
“I'm sick of you lot; you pathetic, patronising, pieces of shit thinking you have any idea what it's like for any of us. You don't know what my mother's been through. You think we have a choice? You reckon we choose a life without freedom, constantly killing?!”

Hermione listened to Draco's ranting. This was not her fault. She wasn't the one who cursed Narcissa. She wasn't the one who forced her and her family to get involved with Voldemort. Her sister killed Sirius. She and her husband tried to kill Harry in the department of mysteries in their fifth year. She had actively fought for Voldemort's rise to power. She had had enough of Draco's sulking.

“Shut up, Draco! I don't give a fuck what you or your precious mother have been through! None of you gave a damn when it was me that was injured! I don't see any of you coming to Harry's rescue! The one person who can end it all, make this whole war just go away is also lying in that hospital wing, and I don't see any of you giving a damn! If it's so fucking bad for you all, why do you stay? You've claimed to be on our side, but clearly you're not! Why? If Voldemort makes everything so damn difficult, then why don't you do as you've already claimed to, and just stay here?” Hermione yelled, tears forming by the end of her rant, and her voice trembling as she asked her final question: “Why don't you just stay here with me?”

--------------------

Nimble fingers hovering over his groin, groping in the dark shadows of the hallway, Hermione unzipped his trousers and let them fall to the ground. On her knees, she pulled down his grey boxers, and swiftly flicked her tongue over his hard length.

Draco outstretched his arms to lean against the wall in front of him, and with Hermione the only thing in between the wall and himself, he moaned as she engulfed him to the back of her throat.

Ignoring her gag reflex, she took Draco's cock into her mouth and her hands reached round to his backside and pushed him further into her by holding his arse. She rolled her tongue over and around his shaft, while her right hand came round to tease his balls.

It didn't take long for him to come. He normally had a reasonable amount of control, but tonight, from a combination of grief, lust, anger and irrationality, he didn't even try to contain himself. After he spurted into her mouth, Draco pulled up his trousers and casually did himself up, brushing down his robes before walking away, leaving Hermione sat on the cold stone floor, alone.

$^&&*^&*&&%$%

Days later and Hermione had still not seen Draco anywhere in the castle.

She was starting to worry. She knew she shouldn't. She had no obligation to this man... this Death-Eater. He was a big boy; he could take care of himself.

But, in the silence of the night, when she should be thinking about her husband's critical condition, she couldn't help but wonder where he was.
Was he hurt somewhere? Had Voldemort found out about the Malfoy's agreement with the Order?

Hermione had to put these thoughts out of her head though, when news of her husband's consciousness reached her. It had been five days since she'd argued with Draco, and four since he'd turned up unexpectedly and she'd sucked him off. Four days since she'd seen him last.

Just as she was pondering his whereabouts, Corey ran into the library where Hermione had been trying to research the spell which had damaged Narcissa, and trying to establish a cure.

“Hermione! I looked for you down in the dungeons and greenhouses, but someone suggested you might be up here. Listen, Harry's awake.”


£$%^&^%$


TBC

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