Fanfic virgin indeed. No traditional fluffy romantics. Just angst, psychos drive the gates of hell&heaven and romance is just lucky to be in the passenger's seat. Alright, maybe not as bitter as described. I love love, don't get me wrong, just no force would ever make me write kids-running-on-a-sacred-field-madams-'nd-sirs-tying-the-knot-until-I-vomit-rainbows narrative. Steer clear if you're looking for that! I'm not saying the story won't have a happy ending, it might just. Yet again, Disney is not my supplier! I am.

One more thing. I do not like descriptions. They harass and imprison. There's going to be no 'her-brown-orbs-spoke-desire-and-lust' insights from my narrator. Just some psychological reflection from the characters themselves, some hints that they in fact are conscious and to let know the reader what state (sanity-wise) they're at. It's hopefully going to be in a way that the narrator tries to force the reader as little as possible, sometimes the narrator might not be even trustworthy, who knows, they're tricky like that. I put my trust in verbal and physical expression/states not third party observations (that would be the narrator). Or I'm just that untalented and stupid that I made this entire speech up just to sound all superior and clever. Most probably both. Who cares really? Overall I'm just warning what you're about to walk into.

Alright, if you're still here, then good for you and nice to meet you! My name is Enn, English is far from being my mother tongue, I just play with it and since I have no beta by my side, it's probably going to be packed with errors due to the lack of knowledge or accidental mistakes. If you get the gist, don't bother pointing those out; however feel free to point out a beta in the closest proximity.

Take it in my peeps, take it in! Calm breaths! It's going to be M-rated. I suggest you to leave here, alright?

Still, there… So, it's going to be M-rated for twisted ingredients I threw in the pot. I'm not sure how explicit it's going to be, just trying to find the middleground between taste and distaste, but the themes will be somewhat hardcore. Life's cruel, not I - hate the game not the player.

Enjoy it Comrades!

Disclaimer: Not to rub it in your noses, I have two most adorable cats and my soulmate grandma Maia. I know, it's not polite to parade with what you've got, but I'm just annoying like that since I ain't no Rowling and do not own most of the characters depicted below.

"It's Imperative"

Chapter 1: "The Now"

As Hermione Granger was making her way towards her workplace at St. Mungo she couldn't help but feel somewhat empty, as if her heart was stuck in her throat, her kidneys were reaching to her ears making sounds of London sound all muffled and she just couldn't find a way to push it back in. She tried to recollect what set off this gnawing feeling. Was it something at workplace yesterday that had affected her emotional state or was it just some dream that she had? To be fair, it did sometimes happen with her, she got way too lost inside her own self that some dreams got much too solid for her liking, altering her recollection of what's real, what's not real. Furthermore, sometimes her subconscious mind games could affect her couple of days after. It was disconcerting to say the least. She was a war veteran, a professional at her work that managed to keep her emotions at bay. That was the reality of life and you dealt with it as such - some people must go to make room for other people - circle of life. And yet here she was, disheartened by a silly dream she couldn't even recollect, mind the feeling of utter fear. She needs to shake it off. Work always helped, she would just get back on that horse and every single piece of triviality in life would perish. She made an attempt to shrug the terrible feeling off by shaking her body, she did feel a sense of some air she didn't know she was holding to be released from her nostrils, but the feeling, as if the word has ended, still stuck. Thus she forced her eyes to look at her surrounding to prove that the world did in fact exist and she shouldn't get lost too much inside of her head - in dereism. Albeit she just knew she needed her job to really drag her back to feeling normal. So she simply fastened her pace and, clearly not quick enough, she was finally stepping in from the main door, taking in the always stale smell of St. Mungo. Now that was familiar and she smiled a little, thankful of the sensory comfort, to herself as she made her way towards the reception, just to exchange some compulsory familiarities. From the looks of it they yet again had changed the secretary in the reception booth. The boy behind the desk anticipated Hermione with a beaming smile on his face, looking without a doubt rather nervous.

"Good morning!" Hermione said right before she reached the booth. "I see we have some new staff. My name is …"

"Hermione Granger," he cut her off, nervously tapping his fingers on the desk, "I know. It's a great honor to meet you Ms. Granger. Really-really a great honor!" he jumped up, so fast that the stapler in front of him ricocheted from the abruptness of his movement making the huge hall echo, which he didn't even seem to notice, he was simply holding a hand for her to shake. Hermione found his anxiousness to be somewhat amusing and cute. His pure white hair, huge glasses and immaculate green dressrobes, which were unnecessarily accessorized with a bowtie, just made Hermione smile at this adorable boy even more.

"It's a great honor to meet you too mr…?"

"It's Brass, Hector Brass that is."

"Nice to meet you mr. Hector Brass." He just looked at hear on standby, which made Hermione a little uncomfortable. All the attention has always made her uncomfortable. The fact that she was in golden trio and fought in the final battle, just kept people around her on the edge. "Alright Hector, what you got for me on your first day?"

"Uhm… oh, yes… what I got for you… mr. Klaeder told me to tell you that he'll be expecting you as soon as you get here. So, he's waiting for you and… yes, that's all, he's waiting for you," he nervously explained.

"Well, thank you Hector," she stressed his name in a kind manner and patted his shoulder gently, "make yourself a calming tea will you? You look like you could use one. I'll be on my way then, let mr. Klaeder know that I've arrived, alright?"

"Yes, ms. Granger," he nodded anxiously.

"Ah, miss Granger. Thank you for coming! We have some unusual and sensitive matter at hand you see. And it's been requested that you personally would see to it," he handed her a rather thick folder she immediately started to skim through.

"Alright. Lay it on me."

"The patient… "

"It's Draco Malfoy?" she picked up a familiar name right there, said name staring at her.

"Why yes. He was in your year at Hogwarts yes?"

"He was. I thought he disappeared years ago. Official report said he was dead?"

"Yes, well… he is very much alive, barely though. It's suspected he practiced with dark magic due to which the damages are quite severe. As of this moment, he has few days tops. He's been staying in here for weeks now and since his condition has progressed he himself has suggested to be escorted to his home and to be taken care of there."

"And my role would be?"

"To take care of him."

"Sir, to all due respect, I do not find it wise. I could research the black magic he's used, to find a cure. That's what I'd be useful in, I'm no nurse."

"I'm well aware of that, but mr. Malfoy has requested that you and you alone would be taking care of his well-being. He's being targeted by some people, thus it needs to be kept confidential. Besides, he has been rather keen on keeping the magic he used as a secret."

"This is highly unusual," she wasn't satisfied with the situation at hand. There weren't many patients at St. Mungo that could afford a private nurse. Let alone people who could afford an actual healer to be on their beckon call. Hermione Granger thought that to be quite the waste of time, focusing her all attention to a person when there's perfectly good beds at St. Mungo, as well as perfectly good nurses and healers. Sure, more terminal cases were, purely from the professional point of view, much more stimulating to a healer to grow, but it was rather unheard of for a client to have such power that it was approved. Even the Minister of Magic himself has always been in the hospital not the other way around. But she didn't have it in herself to argue with Klaeder, she knew him too well to put him in a uncomfortable position. In fact, she wasn't herself in a position the make demands, he was a celebrated healer as well as the superintendent of St. Mungo.

"Alright, got it," she closed the folder.

"Excellent! Mr. Malfoy is ready in ten minutes for you to take him home, we expect a full-form report from you every day of course and in case of any request, just owl the hospital."

"Sure."

"And, ms. Granger, it would be ever so helpful for researchers like yourself to get to the bottom of what has happened to him."

"I'm aware. I'll do my best."

She was just about to make her way to Draco Malfoy's room when she bumped into Luna Lovegood. Who, according to the report in the portfolio was the person who had taken care of him up until now. Luna was a phenomenal healer, managing to connect with most of her patients. She unknowingly made patients feel appreciated and cared for, due to which she was known to be assigned most terminal cases; her charming persona was an asset that St. Mungo deemed to be necessary for a person fated to die in near future. Hermione herself had suggested that Luna would do better in communicating with people than being closed up in a researcher's lounge. She just possessed that charm which made people feel at ease. Not to mention the way she read people. There was no way fooling her, she was an empath extraordinaire.

"Morning, Hermione!" she greeted, her angelic features calming Hermione further from her irritation. "You're upset," she stated simply. Just like that.

"Morning Luna. It's nothing, bad dream, is all. What can you tell me about Draco Malfoy?"

"I've found memorata in aeternum quite helpful dealing with stress, it's a charm that guides your subconscious to dig into more happy memories. You'll feel better in the morning using this, assured," she handed her a vial of bright blue substance. "Two drops before bedtime with warm mulled wine is enough."

"I appreciate it." She took the vial and hid it under her robes. "Alright, Draco Malfoy then."

"Yes, mr. Malfoy is in a miserable state indeed. Physical wise. Otherwise he's rather resilient. I find him quite interesting. He made the right choice to pick you as his healer since you know him best."

She knew him alright. Being a exceptional bully raveling in people's misery and humiliation.

"I think you're going to get along great," Luna cut off her string of thought.

Doubt it! "Sure," she detected her voice sound more sarcastic than she wanted to let out. "I better be on my way then."

"Have fun! He's in a really good place in his life!" Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at Luna's words. If it was anyone else, she'd deem them to be dripping with sarcasm but in case of Luna Lovegood, you just never knew. Optimism never abandoned her. Like it had left her. Oh well, she had Luna to fill up that quota.

She found Draco Malfoy in his room, sitting on the bed, staring numbly in front of himself. He didn't look as bad as she had expected. There was no hairloss, his limbs were still intact, no sign of scales on his skin, he looked rather healthy, mind the black rings around his eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy," she made her presence known. He slowly lifted his head and stared at her blankly for a second or two. Hermione realized just now how sick he actually looked. His face was that of a skeleton and his body was positively just bones. He looked like a tall white, slightly grayish, praying mantis.

"Ms. Granger." His voice was hoarse and as grey as his appearance.

"I expect you're ready," she said matter of factly and made her way towards his belongings. Naturally Malfoy pride wouldn't let a woman or a mudblood for that matter, carry his bags, thus he snapped his bag into his hand right before Hermione could reach them. "Alright then. Better be going. Malfoy Manor? Can we floo there?"

"No. We apparate to the front gate and walk from there."

"Sounds plausible. Ready?" she held her hand out for him to take. He looked at it hesitantly. "Is something wrong? Do you feel dizzy?"

"No, I'm fine," he gathered his composure and took her hand in his. She noted his hand to be quite warm, probably due to a fever, she'll take care of that first thing they arrive at the manor.

The manor was remarkable. The size of it alone was breathtaking. Hermione was sure she'd one day get lost in this maze. Malfoy directed her to a room which was to be hers for the time being, his own right across the hallway. She helped him to settle in his room first hand. The baldachin he slept in was just ridiculously humongus, although she had to sleep in a quite similar bed, still ridiculous. Suppose it's a criteria to have a good night's sleep, something she didn't have.

"Is there anything you need?" she asked him as he was resting on his bed, fully dressed. He didn't answer, his eyes were closed and he just was there. "Perhaps you'd feel more comfortable if you changed your clothes and took a nap?"

Nothing.

"Okay, suit yourself. I'm going to unpack and check up on you later, is that okay?" He still made no motion or anything that would sign her he was listening to a word she was saying.

After a warm shower and a change of clothes, she went back to his room. It seemed he hadn't moved even the slightest, being as he was when she left him. "Malfoy, are you sleeping?" she approached his bed. Still no answer. She put her hand gently on his forehead. He was downright burning up. She ran to the bathroom, found a washcloth, flushed it in cold water and came back to put it on his forehead. This surely woke him up as he slowly opened his eyes and looked at her exhausted. She gently forced the washcloth more to his forehead. "It's a muggle way to alleviate the fever. I'm not sure about the effectiveness of it, but it does feel good, doesn't it?" He simply closed his eyes. Hermione took it as a acceptance. It was quite strange. Seeing someone once so ambitious and vindictive looking utterly vulnerable and pathetic now. Karma had a solid way to balance out existence.

"Malfoy, for me to help you, I need to know details about the incident that made you ill like that," she sat onto his bed right next to his resting figure.

"No," he said loud and clear.

"Listen, I assure you I am a professional, it's all confidential. You realize you don't have much time. If we want to get to the bottom if this, I need for you to trust me and tell me whatever it was. I won't judge, I promise, healer's code forbids me to." She surprised even herself of how mature she sounded and didn't let old grudges get in the way of her work.

For a little while he didn't answer. Hermione suspected perhaps he had fallen asleep again, but all of a sudden he took the washcloth from his head and threw it across the room. It was only from that gesture Hermione could tell that he was probably angry, his face was too worn-out-looking for her to get a good read on his emotions. "Listen Granger, and listen good. There is no cure!" he had to take a deep breath to compose himself. "I'm just here to die, is that clear?!"

"Well, if you told me what was it that made you sick, I could judge myself if there was a cure or not!" she shot back.

"There isn't!"

"If you just told me…"

"I won't!"

"Pray tell why am I even here then! You clearly don't need a healer! Maybe a good therapist or a first year nurse, but not a healer!"

She was ready for a slam, perhaps even a hex from his part but to her shock he let out a small, however a distinctive chuckle. "You're here because I paid good money for you and that's that."

"No, not that's that! You will tell me what happened to you!"

"Doubt it." He was clearly amused.

"I'm going to get it out of you and I'm going to help you."

"Doubt it."

"Well, you still are an insufferable git as I remember you from school."

"Ditto," he replied smugly. "Although I'm pretty sure it's not a way to treat a patient."

She was taken aback a little, she was acting way too familiar and it wasn't suitable. "Yes, of course. I apologize."

"Oh come on Granger, I was just messing with you. I hate the sterile treatment you hospital-folk live by. I didn't care for your little outbursts when we were at school, why should they bother me now?"

"It's called being a grown-up Malfoy," she snapped at him.

"I am counting hours I have left, I'm rather busy dying to dive into something as trivial as being a grown-up." And now she shocked herself for laughing at his grim comment. She coughed the emotion down to her pipe and picked the thermometer from the desk drawer. On the desk she noticed a huge snow globe, she felt weirdly drawn to it. It was something in snow globes that always enticed her. Such simple context and even without additional magic they still seemed so magical. She closed the drawer and turned around to face his patient who apparently had sat up. He looked even worse up-close. His once milky skin had turned gray, his appearance had deteriorated sharply into what could only described like a living corpse.

"Ghmm… I think we should measure your temperature." She was a little uneasy to lift his blouse and put the thermometer under his axillary. He must've seen her hesitance since he nonchalantly picked the thermometer from her and lifted his shirt to do it for her. She had a glimpse of his body in the process. His ribs were violently poking out on his chest, his stomach twisted inwards it amazed her he had any strength to even stand up, since it was evident he didn't have any muscular support. "When was the last time you ate?"

"This morning," he made himself more comfortable on the bed.

"I think we both could use some supper. I'll prepare something in just a second."

"No need. Willow will take care of that."

"Willow?"

"Yes, a house-elf. Don't get your knickers in a twist now Granger, she's one of those liberated house-elves." He must've read her complexion turning into alert-mode due to the sensitive topic. Not to mention her surprise the elves in manor were free now? She hadn't really expected Malfoys would change their ways. It was a change she greeted kindly though.

"Alright Malfoy, one more minute, we'll see what under that shirt of yours." She's going to ignore the allusion. Hopefully he will as well. He did, in a way... he still smiled smugly but fortunately didn't make any comments. It truly was one long minute Hermione thought to herself. Awkward silence. What should old nemesis talk about? Weather? Quidditch? Final battle? Who was on whose side? Weather?

"Alright, let's see …."

"... what's under my shirt?" But of course he just couldn't let it go.

"That's right," she straightened her composure. She was just over-thinking the entire situation. He was a prat and took pleasure in people's mishaps, her pride wouldn't let it get in the way. Thus she slid her hand under his shirt, feeling his sharp ribs with the back of her hand. She found the hard plastic form and took it out.

"That's strange," she frowned.

"What is?"

"Your temperature. It shows 33,7 degrees."

"I'm no healer, but that's a mighty low temperature, kiddo."

"What? Well yes, you're practically hypothermic. Dammit, and I put a cold cloth on your forehead, I shouldn't have done that! Merlin! We need to get more blankets, a hot water bag and something warm to drink stat!"

"Okay, you seriously need to relax. I feel fine."

"Do you?"

"I do," he reached for his want next to him and with a lazy swish the air around them heated up what felt like whole 20 degrees to Hermione. "There, it's a sauna in here now."

Just when she was about to smile, she heard a small puff.

Enter Willow. She was a tiny pretty elf in a red dotted dress. She had two huge platters in both hands, making her way towards the table. "I expect you're feeling comfortable sir. It's a pleasure to see you miss Granger," she spoke freely whilst setting the table for three people. Three?"Shall we?" she opened her arms to gesture that the dinner has indeed been served.

"Y-yes," Hermione was a little confused. She stood up and out of and instinct held her hand out for Malfoy. She realized a second later there was a great chance he'd reject it and was just about to draw her hand away, but he took it. He leaned on her hand for support to get out of his bed and they both made their way to the table. Willow took a seat aswell. Hermione was pleased.

"I've prepared escargot with just a hint of garlic and red wine. Bon appetite miss Granger, bon appetite sir Draco!"

Hermione stared at the plate in front of her. She kept staring. Feeling a little uneasy.

"It's just snails, kid," Malfoy leaned over to explain.

"Just snails huh…" she kept staring.

"Is miss not happy with the food?" Willow asked her eyes clearly watering up. She couldn't but appreciate her effort, even if it was snails.

"No, it's looking delicious. The snails I mean. Can't wait to dig in," she told with her best poker face. Willow was visibly ecstatic. She explained throughout the dinner, these snails were in fact quite the delicacy and supposedly eaten only by the elite. The elite part was a little unnecessary for Hermione to be pointed out albeit the history behind it was really fascinating. Ancient Romans were known to eat this exact delicacy. Willow had really educated herself with different cuisines. It made Hermione content to say the least. She was even more chatty than Dobby was. A sad thought she quickly abandoned. In conclusion it was a nice evening.

After Willow had cleaned the table and said her farewells, just then she noticed how tired Malfoy actually looked. "Time to go to bed," she held her hand again for him to take. She saw him nod his head fatigued. One scene she never imagined herself to be in, tucking in Draco Malfoy. Crazy right? He was visibly sucked dry of energy.

"Good night Malfoy, if there's anything you need, just push the red button next to you, alright?"

"Hmm…" was all he could muster.

Her room was terribly cold in comparison to Malfoy's room. She took out her wand and soon enough she felt the warmth flush over her. And just when she was about to take her robes off she felt something thick fall on the ground. Luna's memorata in aeternum. She had to endure way too much of pain in this place, it was only smart to try out her best friend's suggestion to really have a good night's sleep. She didn't have mulled wine, but she hoped water would do the trick. Two drops, right, after the day she had, three would be more like it. Downright due to a accident, it really was four drops in the end. She picked up a book from the shelf and tucked herself in. She didn't even get to read a sentence. She was soon fast asleep.

"Don't we share the world?" I hear. Is it relevant? Why did you say it? It came behind the thick wall of snowfall - was it next to me, behind me, above me? I couldn't quite put my finger where the voice had come from. It was pitch dark, the snowflakes illuminating only the character of darkness, giving away nothing about the locus.

"Don't we share the world?" echoed yet again. The same question. It comforted me. The question that is. I almost wanted to grasp the meaning of it. It was piercing. It felt irrevocable. Permanent that we share the world. Then again it was a abysmal thought. Too consequential.

I'm going to stay in this vortex for a long time, for forever, for I'm never alone. For I am abstinent.

"Don't we share the world?" I knew the answer and it was a beautiful one at that. A really truly beautiful one. Even magic pales in comparison. There was true magic to that. The timed stopped and world was upon me. Tonight, the world is in chains all the while I'm free. I'm immune. I reach everything and nothing at all.