She gazed across at him. His blonde hair was so soft, so perfect. His face, with or without his characteristic sneer, had an almost unearthly glow which radiated outward and suffused her with a warm feeling. Draco Malfoy, chosen heir of the legendary house of Lucius Malfoy, suddenly looked up and saw her staring.

Astoria panicked, her face flushing red as she looked down, frantically shuffling her class notes in an effort to appear busy and avoid his gaze. She tried, unsuccessfully, to slow her breathing, and her friend Daphne looked over with a raised eyebrow. "Are you okay?" she asked. "I...I'm fine." Astoria replied, breathless. Daphne looked at her suspiciously for a few moments, gave her an inquisitive look, and returned to her work.

Astoria stroked her hair, pushing it behind one ear, and quickly glanced upward again toward Malfoy's seat. He was still there, staring. His eyes - grey, cold, and beautiful - met hers, and time seemed to suspend itself. Her breath caught in her chest, and quickly the sounds of the classroom became nothing more than a background murmur. Her world had collapsed in that instant, and she could only focus of the cause and epicenter of that collapse. Draco winked slowly, once, and let slip a lopsided grin. As he turned back to Professor Snape, Astoria felt her heart pounding in her chest. Time had returned to normal, but the adrenaline of that experience still sung in her veins with all the shrill intensity of a Merpersons land-bound tongue.

They had been watching each other for some time now. Trading glances and smiles from across the common room. The hallways. He made her feel a bliss so agonizing as to be intolerable. Like a lightning bolt had hit her chest. Her heart ached for him with all the intensity of a Crucius curse. She had spent countless sleepless nights thinking of him. Craving his touch, a need so unbearable that each day it was left unfulfilled felt like an eternity.

She was awoken from her reverie by the sharp thunderclap of a closing textbook. "Class is over" Professor Snape drawled in his distinctly contemptuous fashion, "you may take your leave."

Astoria left the class in a daze, trailing behind her friends who ran ahead, frantically talking amongst themselves about some trivial bit of gossip or another. Astoria sighed. She has been so distracted by Draco's wink that she had failed to write down the assignment. What would she do? She couldn't ask Snape for it: he had no patience for the inattentive, but nor could she simply skip such a task. And what did Draco's enigmatic wink mean? Or that smile? As she walked back to the Slytherin common room, lost in thought, she suddenly felt a soft hand on her shoulder. Jumping in alarm, she spun around, eyes wide. Before her was Draco, smiling roguishly.

"Want to explore?" he said, that suggestive grin once again appearing on his face. "I..um...er..." Astoria replied, her mouth desperately attempting to form words as her brain reeled from an invitation so unbelievably alluring that it could only occur in a dream. "I...what do you mean?" she blurted out, frantically. Draco was taken aback slightly, and then chuckled "Well..you know. Just look around. There's a nice, secluded place up in the east wing. I'd like to check out. How about it? We can head up right now, if you'd like. Just you, and me." Astoria's mouth hung open. Alone? With Draco Malfoy? This couldn't possibly be serious. There had to be some kind of mistake. Draco leaned in slightly, grin widening "You're not scared, are you?". "N—no!" replied Astoria, with vehemence. Draco laughed. "Well, come on then!" he said, grabbing her hand and leading her up to the clocktower.

They arrived within a few minutes, their hands -to Astoria's delight- still entwined. Draco smiled "Cool, isn't it?". Astoria coughed slightly to clear her throat, which had been clasped with nervousness. "Y...yes." she replied "How...how did you find out about this place?". Draco smirked. "Oh, you know. I found it myself. Sometimes you just need somewhere quiet..." he stepped behind her, his hands slowly traveling along her shoulders and caressing her neck. "It's a good place to...relax." Astoria swallowed heavily, and her heart began pounding even harder. "I...I guess I can understand that." she said. This was unbearable. Her every cell screamed out in a tortured mix of desire and nervousness. Could Draco see it? Could he hear the sound her heart was making, as it frantically beat, faster and faster, against the constraints which held it inside? She had to do something. "I...um..." she began, as Draco stroked her hair slowly, "I guess I should be going..." However, just as she anxiously turned back to the exit of the clocktower, Draco darted forward, kissing her with a fiery intensity. Astoria let out a small, muffled cry as he pushed her forward onto the clocktower table, his own body following hers.

Draco slid his hand underneath her flowing robes and leaned forward into an even more passionate kiss. Astoria felt her nervous impulses surge forward, but she pushed them away. "I've wanted this" she whispered, as Draco's mouth moved downward onto her neck. Her cheeks were flushed and her voice husky with desire "I've wanted this since the first moment I saw you." Draco smiled and looked up, and whispered in her ear

"I know."

Astonia slid her hands under Draco's cloak, feeling the muscles on his chest. Sweat glistened off of his chiseled abs, and his muscles rippled gracefully as he removed his cloak.

He moved his hands upward tenderly, caressing her leg as he slipped his fingers under her panties, massaging what lay beneath. She gasped and let out a soft whimper as he slid them down to her ankles and then threw them aside.

"Stand up" Draco commanded "Against the window"

She placed her hands on the stone windowsill. She could see herself in the mirror's reflection, the outline of her breasts visible through the thin fabric of her cloak, her nipples rigid with arousal. Her breath came quickly, fogging up the glass with moisture and heat, and she parted her trembling legs.

"Please, Draco" she whimpered, as she turned her head and grasped Draco's manhood with a desperate lust "I need it."

Draco moved closer, grasping her sides with a confident strength and moving his hips forward with lascivious intent.

Suddenly, there was a crash.

"Wha—What the hell?" Draco shouted

"What's going on?" Astonia yelled in fear, but it was her own eyes, not the words of Draco, that brought her the answer:

Through the window she beheld Ragnarok. Giant pods of steel, still burning with the fires of atmospheric re-entry, burst downward from the clouds and slammed into the courtyards and crenelations of Hogwarts.

"Why...why is this happening? What the hell are those things?"

Suddenly, a second crash, this one much closer and accompanied by the sound of shattered stone, sounded behind them.

Through the broken walls of the clocktower strode a giant clad in adamantium and ceramite. His promethium tanks rattled as the stone masonry collapsed and yielded to his colossal might. He stood taller than any two men and wielded a weapon wreathed in flame and heavy enough to crush any mere mortal foolish enough to attempt wielding it. The creature turned toward the petrified Draco and Astoria, who stared, open-mouthed at the avatar of martial prowess which had appeared before them.

"By order of the Imperial Inquisition and in the name of his majesty the Immortal God-Emperor of Mankind, I charge you with heresy and sentence you to death, Witch."

Draco and Astoria barely had time to scream as the mechanisms of the Holy Flamer engaged, consuming them both in an inferno of cleansing fire.

The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had long been known to the Governors Militant in this sector of the Imperium. This disgusting boil on the face of the Galaxy had only been allowed to persist for this long due to the difficulty of laying siege to such a fortified position. However, after the fortuitous arrival of both the Blood Ravens and several Imperial Inquisitors in the sector, it became clear that this wretched infestation of Chaos could be allowed to persist no longer.

The Imperial forces had hit the unsuspecting den of Heretics with all the force of an Ordo Malleus Daemonhammer. The sounds of battle echoed across the courtyards of Hogwarts, accompanied by the screams of the dead and dying; A sharp break indeed from the placid vista had been mere moments before.

A man burst from the highest remaining tower of the foul edifice known as Hogwarts, clad in what could only be the decadent robes of Slannesh. "You will not harm my students while I still breathe!" he screamed, fury and warpcraft projecting his voice to inhuman levels of volume. The sorcery which had concealed this place from the auspices of The Emperor for so long had been his doing, and his heresy could be ignored no longer. Brother Captain Davian Thule, spying his ensorceled advance, revved his chainsword. "Battle-Brothers!" he shouted, gathering his squad to him, "Let us teach this heretic scum the true price of defying the God-Emperor!". Roaring their assent, his squad fell in beside him and charged forward in an arrow formation. They fired their heavy bolters as they ran, the staccato rhythm of their discharge an anthem to the purification of these vile transgressors.

However, the arch-witch saw them coming. Suddenly, a translucent barrier sprang before him, stopping the bullets in a gelatinous barrier, the essence of which lay betwixt water and air . With a swift gesture and a phrase in his Emperor-forsaken tongue, the Slaaneshi cultist fired forth a spectral bolt at the advancing Space Marines. The courageous Battle-Brother Mikelus, noble warrior of the Imperium, could only cry out in fury as the sorcerous bolt transmogrified his once-proud body into that of a chicken.

One by one the Space Marines fell victim to the Psyker's power. Scores were blasted with stupefying magic which robbed them of consciousness. Many more were blown about by the raw elemental power of wind and lightning. Even the roots and trees themselves sprung forth from the earth to claw at their feet and impede their advance. Only Davian had managed to avoid the gauntlet of eldritch might and close with the enemy. As he came within striking distance, he revved the motor on his chainsword and leapt high into the air, letting loose a mighty warcry. Eyes wide with horror, the withered cultist barely had time to bring up his frail, bony hand before the chainsword swung down, bisecting his skull in twain before passing through the chest and groin. The geyser of blood which emanated from his still-flailing body drenched the cultists' white beard a deep red, a suitable counterpart to the Blood-Ravens own armor.

Brother-Captain Davian Thule spit upon what remained of the maddened servant of the warp and let loose a brief, fierce grin. However, as he looked up from the eviscerated sorcerers body his grin quickly transformed into angrily gritted teeth. The Witches had formed together on the other side of the courtyard, gathering their forces into a cohesive group, in order to better combat the Imperium's Finest.

As the forces of the God-Emperor marched forth to meet them, the gathered heretics called forth their ethereal familiars from the warp. The warpspawn flew forward at great speed, and collided with the advancing line of Space Marines, coiling their mistlike tendrils around them. Screaming the sacred Imperial battle-hymns at the top of all four of their mighty lungs, the Space Marines waded through these "Patronus", the armour of their faith shielding them from the foul craft of the gathered witches.

A bespectacled boy emerged from the chaos of battle, his raven hair framing a scar presumably acquired from previous combat with loyal imperial subjects.

"You will never defeat us! I am the chosen one, the Boy who Lived, Harry Potter! Dumbledore's Army, unite!"

The words had barely left his lips when he was struck down, skewered upon a Nemesis Halberd thrown with implacable strength and accuracy by a member of the Grey Knights. As his broken body slid down the haft, the morale and organization of the gathered heretics faltered for a brief instant.

Unfortunately for them, a brief instant was all the loyal servants of the Imperium needed.

The Grey Knights screamed their rage and gestured with their gauntlet-clad hands. The holy sigils carved into their armor flashed with eldritch fury, and slivers of psychic agony darted forth, impacting upon the gathered Psykers. One fell to the ground, and his eyes widened beneath his shock of red hair. He dropped his weapon and grasped desperately at his head with both hands, shrieking as blood gushed from his nose, mouth, and eyelids "Hermione!" he screamed, the unbearable agony almost rendering the words unintelligible "Help me! Please!". A girl rushed forward from the confused frenzy of combat, drawing forth the wooden implements of her heretic kind and mumbling her foul incantations. Whatever her intent, it was no match for the power of a Grey Knight's psychic assault. The Red-haired cultist screamed as his head violently split and exploded from within, splattering the girl and the surrounding soil with a rain of blood and viscera.

"No! Ron!" she screamed, her sobs and tortured cries perceptible even over the din of combat. She stood and screamed in helpless rage. "Why are you doing this? Monsters!" she whipped up the gnarled and diminutive tool of her ilk and began screaming out a string of Chaotic incantations. Each launched a streaming bolt of warpspawned energy which rocketed toward the Grey Knight Justicar, Alaric. However, her weak spellcraft dissipated and was blasted aside by the holy aura of his Terminator armor. With a sneer of contempt, Justicar Alaric trained his wrist-mounted Holy Bolter upon her and fired, riddling her with a thousand apertures, each weeping sanguinity upon the already blood-slick ground.

Across the courtyards of Hogwarts, Brother-Captain Gabriel Angelos lead his own Purification squad into combat. They had just come upon a series of arcane, geometric structures, which they learned (via a liberal application of an Inquisitorial Excruciator) were integral in the performance of an esoteric Chaos-ritual known as "Qyd-Dytch". Captain Angelos knew not what manner of hellspawn this ritual could summon, but he was taking no chances: his squad spread outward, lighting the hoops and surrounding stadium with blasts of cleansing light from their Flamers.

Suddenly, a hirsute mutant riding some manner of Eagle-Horse chimera slammed into Gabriel Angelos with a mighty bellow. Wielding some primitive implement of wood and string, he pointed it at the nearest marine and it fired a projectile of surprising speed directly into the joints of his armor. The Marine let out a cry of anger as the crossbolt pierced his kneecap, pinning him to the ground. The mutant moved with the alacrity of its disgusting kind, reloading the bolt with unholy precision. Gabriel charged forward, heedless of danger and burning with the need to destroy this blasphemous insult to the God-Emperor. As he charged, he felt the arrow enter his arm. Knew intellectually that the pain was there, but it was abstract. In his current state of battle rage, he knew no pain. No fear. All his emotions had been swept away, replaced by an unquenchable thirst for justice.

With a snarl of hatred, Gabriel slammed his Power Fist directly into the chest of the grotesque mutant, shattering the beasts' innards and burning his putrid skin with an electrical discharge. The beast violently shook him off, coughing up a mix of blood and shattered bone onto its beard as it urged its mount to flee, but Gabriel had seen the eyes of the bearded mutant. Gabriel had watched as the mutants visage turned from a symbol of rage into one of unmitigated fear and pain. He sneered. With a shout, he ordered the nearest Marine to hand him his Missile Launcher.

As the mutant ascended to the skies above, Gabriel Angelos took aim. With a silent prayer to his wargear's Machine-Spirit, he pulled on the activator trigger and watched as the streaking payload gained ground on his frantically-fleeing opponent.

The missile struck the Warpspawned chimera with the fury of a thousand incandescent suns, giving birth to a rain of scorched viscera. The filth of mutant and beast alike became enmeshed as it made its final journey to the barren earth, and though Gabriel Angelos regretted his missed chance to kill them both in the glory of hand-to-hand combat, he could not deny the symbolic truth which their obliviation signified.

With the last of their leaders slain and their forces in disarray, the heretics were systematically and mercilessly cut down. Within the hour, Predator tanks and Whirlwind artillery had scourged the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from the imperial realm. Where once stood an edifice of corruption and a stronghold of blasphemy, there now lay only a smoldering monument of blood and fire.

Remember well the chronicle of these times, Acolyte. Not just as a moment of triumph, but as a lesson on the immutable, inescapable fate that awaits all those would defy the Sacred Imperial Inquisition.

The Emperor Protects.

++++Brother-Librarian Walter, Blood Ravens Chapter++++

A/N:

I can explain. DO NOT BE ALARMED.

This is my boyfriend's attempt at writing fanfiction. No, it is not a real chapter, he thinks he is funny. I did not write this.