Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Three Conditions	By : goldhorse Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 48512 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the HP universe. JK Rowling does. I just borrow her toys and put them back in reletively decent shape when I'm through. I make no money doing this, which is why I work two jobs.

Chapter List
- 11
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- 13
Hermione turned to Malfoy, eyes narrowed. “You-“
“Don’t,” he snapped. “You don’t have any clue what I went through, the pressure, the punishment-“
“I’d never do that to my son,” she hissed. “Never. But I don’t want him to destroy himself or possibly hurt someone else because he can’t control his powers. And what would happen if someone found out… like your father.”
Malfoy’s eyes turned to ice. “My father will never touch him. I’ll vow that now.”
“And others?” she asked. “What happens if they find out he could possibly heal with a touch? I mean, could you imagine? What if he just touched Neville’s parents and they walked out of the hospital the next day?”
“And you don’t want him to?”
“That’s not what I meant,” she growled. “I would love it if he could. But you saw how people treated Harry and all he did was survive a curse as a baby.”
Malfoy tore his hands through his hair. “He’s asking to us to use our son. Use him… like a pawn… a puppet.”
She shook her head. “No, no that’s not it. I mean… it is… he’ll use him. But it isn’t like Voldemort.”
Malfoy flinched so hard his bones cracked. “Isn’t it?”
She sighed. “No. He’s not holding us here against our will. He’s not judging us because of our blood. And believe it or not, Malfoy, I don’t think he wants to take over the world. He wants to do what is best for his tribe. And he’s willing to help train our son. Tell me. Do you have any experience with a healer?”
He raked his hands through his hair again and stood up, pacing back and forth. “You know I don’t. No one does. How is Imamu so sure he can? What if something goes wrong? What if…”
She closed her eyes against the sight of Malfoy breaking down but she couldn’t close her mouth. “You’re scared he’ll end up like your father, power hungry and ruthless.”
He snorted and she looked to see the pointed glance he gave his arm. “Shouldn’t I be? I mean, just a few days ago you were worried I might kill our son. Is that because you have zero faith in me or is that because you think somewhere deep down I might just be like my father?”
She bowed her head in shame. “I won’t deny I was worried. I thought you might want me to abort. Hell, I thought about it. But I couldn’t. And I couldn’t bear the thought of you asking. But I didn’t think you’d kill your own son after he was born.”
“Just abandon him,” he said through gritted teeth. “Because I might somehow see him as something… less.”
“A half-blood,” she spat. “Tainted by his mudblood mother.”
He crossed the hut in two seconds and dug his fingers into her chin painfully, tilting her head up so she couldn’t look anywhere but those silver eyes that blazed in outrage. “I told you not to use that word. I won’t ask again.”
He let her go and resumed pacing, his head shaking every few minutes. “Why exactly did you decide to agree to my offer, Granger?”
She blinked. “You didn’t really give me a choice, did you?”
He spun to face her and smirked. “So I disarmed you before forcibly taking you in that alley. Is that it?”
“No,” she said warily.
“And I put you under the imperious and made you walk in that closet at the gala?”
She swallowed. “No.”
“And I obviously spiked your drink that night in the club.”
She sighed and shook her head. “No.”
“Come clean, Granger. Why did you decide to take me up on my offer?”
She rubbed her forehead in aggravation. “Alright. The first time… well, we were pissed out of our gourds. I figured… I’d already been unceremoniously pushed aside and I figured why the hell not. It was… taboo I guess.”
“And all the other times?”
She squinted at the floor. “Would you believe I was just incredibly frustrated without any prospects?”
He laughed in disbelief and dropped down to his knees before her. “Granger, if you think for one second that I wasn’t in full control of all of my faculties each and every time we were together, you’re more daft than Weaselbee.”
“You’re saying you weren’t absolutely beyond drunk the first night?”
He grinned mischievously and moved closer. “Not beyond it, no. Now, loose enough to take a chance, definitely. Alcohol is good for the nerves. But trust me, I knew exactly what I was doing.”
Before she could protest, he sealed his lips over hers and stole her breath with the passion of his kiss. She’d been kissed many ways by him in their endeavors. Slow and sensual, fast and hungry, lustful, angry, playful, chaste… but never had any kiss been this passionate. Had he been hiding this? And why? Wasn’t she just a good lay? A means to an end? A scratch of an itch? What was going on here?
“I see you’ve agreed on something.”
Malfoy pulled back at the sound of Imamu’s announcement but not before he placed another soft kiss on her forehead and another on her nose. There was something in his eyes that she’d never seen before and it both elated and terrified her. She refused to think on it further. At least not in present company.
“We’re sorry,” Hermione started before she was cut off with a raised hand.
Imamu laughed. “No apologizing. Marriage has to start somewhere, eh? But before you start negotiating again, let me introduce you to my Nia.”
Hermione hauled herself up and walked over to embrace Imamu’s daughter. She couldn’t have been more than 15 dressed in a traditional leopard skin cloak with wild hair so unlike the cropped cuts of the others. It sprang from her head in a way that reminded Hermione of herself at a young age. She wondered why her father hadn’t insisted it be braided if she kept it long but she dare not ask. Nia held her back firmly, a sign of respect. Weak hugs were considered a slight. Though the girl was slight, she was strong and smelled faintly of burnt herbs. Hermione pulled back with a smile and admired the girl’s deep chocolate eyes. She just knew this would work.
Malfoy embraced Nia awkwardly, having picked up on the custom quite quickly. The young girl smirked over his shoulder at Hermione which made the latter have to work hard at stifling a giggle. Malfoy pulled back with a reverent nod and stepped back to Hermione. Hermione leaned her head against his arm, the only comforting gesture she would allow at this point. If he was going to live amongst the Fang, he’d have to be a quick learner.
“It is good to meet you,” Nia said quietly.
Hermione’s mouth dropped at the sound of the deep rich voice that escaped the girl. It belonged to someone much older and wiser in years and she was quite frankly shocked. But she quickly pulled herself together and returned the greeting.
“Now,” Imamu said gracefully. “Let us talk about the healing.” He motioned for them to all sit in a circle in the middle of the hut.
“Um, how is Harry?” Hermione asked timidly.
“Sleeping,” Nia said softly. “I took the liberty of healing him of as many ailments as I could at one time. Healing takes a toll on the body. If you heal too fast, the magical will rebel and the normal will go into shock.”
“How much experience do you have healing the magical?” Hermione asked curiously.
Nia smiled. “More than you would think. I have been healing since I was a small child. Despite the views of the Fang about the magical, a good portion of the tribe has some sort of powers.”
“Why all the fear then?” Malfoy asked.
“The Fang fear those who are more powerful than they are,” Imamu cut in. “If you have read our tribal history, you would know that we were wiped out by those with more power.”
“But that was political,” Hermione broke in but quickly flushed and ducked her head.
Imamu patted her arm as a signal that he didn’t mind her rudeness. “Political power has indeed wiped us out. Military soldiers, brute force, sheer numbers, these are things to fear. But there have been other events, those not told to the outside world. Every few generations, someone is born with extraordinary power, like my Nia or your son. Instead of being trained to harness it and use it to the good of all, they allow it to fill their ego. It is like your Dark Lord, the one that seared his mark into his followers. Pretty words, empty promises, and untold power that no one is prepared to fight.”
“So they fear the power because they’ve known it before,” Malfoy said glumly.
Imamu nodded. “And they have no way to fight it.”
“How many magical beings are there in the tribe?” Hermione asked.
“Most of this village,” Imamu said thoughtfully. “Those who show power are usually brought here. Their parents suspect and bring them for cleansing.”
“And you tell them it would be better if they lived here,” Malfoy said knowingly.
Imamu nodded. “If one is surrounded by open arms, then being different is not seen as a thing to fear or be ashamed of… or too proud.”
“Though you don’t show others,” Hermione inferred.
“No,” Imamu said. “That is why my Nia wears the clothes of men. It is safer if the other tribes do not know. Nia is known by all in this village. But she wears the mask of healing when those outside come for healing.”
“That’s why it’s so hard to earn trust to get here,” Hermione said quietly.
Imamu nodded. “If the world knew of our special talents, there would be lines all over Africa… even the world trying to take what we possess. All the magic here could not protect us. Being unknown does.”
“And what of our son?” Malfoy asked, his voice soft but steely.
Nia smiled. “My father may be many things, but an enemy he is not. He only wishes to help your son become the best he can be.”
“While using him,” Malfoy said darkly.
Nia pursed her lips and then nodded. “Yes. But payment must be given for service. Your native money is no good here. What else would you have to offer?”
“I don’t know,” Malfoy said despondently.
Nia gave him a sad smile. “Your son will be loved like our own, Draco. He will always have a place in this tribe, as will you since you have married in the eyes of the elders. But we know that your son is not Fang. He will want to be with his own kind and blood and he will be loved there as well. But he will need guidance for the rest of his life. His gift will scare him and others. He needs to know how to use it.”
“But what if he doesn’t want to!” Malfoy suddenly shouted. “What if he decides one day that he hates using it or doesn’t want to come back here? People change their mind all the time! I can’t force-“
“Easy, Draco.” Imamu said soothingly. “This payment does not come by force and if your son should decide not to come back, we will not punish him or you. Just know that we will help as long as we can and that help will include teaching him to heal others.”
Malfoy eyed Imamu uneasily as he and Nia stared back serenely. Hermione wasn’t sure what to think or feel. On the one hand, she completely understood where Malfoy was coming from. He’d never had a choice. He had planned to make her his mistress for Merlin’s sake. And sadly enough, she would have probably gone along with it for a long while. But she understood Imamu too. He knew all too well the dangers of having an untrained witch or wizard with a special gift. And then there was her son. How could she pledge his life before he was even born? But Harry.
Imamu’s eyes cut over to Hermione and then back to Malfoy. He looked at Nia one time and then back again and nodded. “I sense your hearts at war. Hermione, you only wish the best for everyone though the spirits have granted you eyes, the ability to understand things from many different perspectives. It is a rare thing, a sign of peacekeepers. Draco, beneath your mask, you only wish to do what is right. You wish for no one to endure what you had to. You want peace. It is no wonder your son will be a peace bringer. I wish to bestow a gift, free of charge, to settle your minds.”
“What sort of gift?” Hermione asked, perplexed.
Nia took her hand. “My father has the ability to see. He can help others see as well. But you must remember that everything is subject to the winds of change.”
“How do we see?” Malfoy asked, trying to be careful not to fidget in anticipation.
“Take my hands,” Imamu said soothingly as he held his hands out for them to take. “Close your eyes and think about your son, his spirit, his future.”
Hermione gasped as the darkness behind her eyelids turned smoky and then white before an image materialized… a tiny little baby with chubby red cheeks and pale skin swaddled in a bright red blanket, the mark of a beloved Fang. It stretched and opened ice blue eyes before touching something beyond it’s sight. An overwhelming feeling of peace fell over her and she almost wept in joy. The image went hazy and rematerialized.
A pale little boy of maybe 3 with curly brown hair toddled along holding hands with two little Fang boys. They all wore bark skirts but the pale boy wore moccasin type shoes in bright red. One of the boys fell down and started crying. The pale one knelt down and patted the injured boy on the head. The boy, though he had an obvious scraped knee, started smiling. The three scampered off to the village to find someone to help clean the injured boy up. The image went hazy again.
A pale boy with curly brown hair walked with confidence down a familiar stone hallway. He couldn’t be more than 11 but his ice blue eyes held a knowledge beyond his years. He was comfortable in his own skin without being cocky, a rarity among new Hogwarts students. Unfortunately, he wasn’t wearing anything pertaining to a house allegiance so there was no way to tell what the future held. He walked past the tapestry of Barnaby the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance three times and entered a familiar doorway. Inside, there were several students including one who looked distinctly like a member of the Fang tribe. A girl, possibly a few years older, huddled in the corner in red robes. She was crying. The boy walked over and gave her a hug. Immediately, the tears dried and she threw herself further into his arms in thanks. The image went hazy again.
The boy was closer to a man now, though it was the same boy. Pointed features, curly brown hair, ice blue eyes, and that same quiet confidence exuded from him. He was back in the Fang village putting on a mask. He walked into the healing hut to see a woman, pale like he was, green eyes filled with self-loathing and regret. He spoke to her though no words could be heard. Then he touched her on the forehead. Her eyes cleared and it looked as though years of tribulations melted away. In its place, gratitude. The image fuzzed again.
This time, the boy was a child again, 4 at the most. Judging by the trees, he was in a park in London. He rushed over to a little girl who had fallen by a river and touched her. It was completely innocent, the need to heal. She smiled and jumped up to hug him, wincing when her injured ankle touched the ground. Two adults rushed over, eyes filled with fear and something else… was it… greed? The image fuzzed again.
The boy was back in Hogwarts walking down the hall. Gone was the confidence he’d exuded in the first vision. This time, his eyes were filled with worry. They darted every which way. He entered another hall to find a bunch of children calling out and pointing at him. He turned and ran. The image fuzzed again.
The image came upon him as a man again. Camera flashes went off all around him as he entered St. Mungos. His eyes were dark and heavy and it looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. His hair lay flat and greasy against his head and people still clambered just to touch him. He’d become the next generation’s Harry Potter. The image fuzzed again.
The boy was 11 again, walking along the tribal village in traditional dress. He smiled more. No one was waiting for him but he looked… bored… depressed maybe. He nodded politely and he still had his confidence in tact but there was something… off. The image fuzzed again.
They boy was a man now, slipping on the healing mask of the village. He looked well rested and cared for, though he was much more tan than the previous images. But his eyes… they looked… dead. Everything went black and Hermione gasped as she opened her eyes.
“What was that?” Malfoy demanded.
Imamu sighed. “The first visions were the preferred path of your son, the path to great happiness. This path contains his lessons here and lessons at the large castle your master taught children at. It is the best mixture, both sides of his life in harmony. The second path is if you were to leave and never come back. The third path is if you were to stay.”
“How certain are you that those visions stay the same through life?” Malfoy asked hesitantly.
“As sure as the sun rises and sets, his path remains the same though the faces change.”
“He looked happy,” Hermione said quietly. “In the first, his eyes… but they were so different in the other two”
“Dead,” Malfoy said quietly. “That is the look of a man who is going through the motions.”
“The first then,” Imamu said, “we agree?”
“But there was just one thing,” Hermione said, her stomach like led. “Harry wasn’t in any of those visions.”
Imamu gave her a grave look. “That is because the life of your son is assured for a while. Young Harry, his life remains to be seen.”
And just like that, she knew what she had to do. Her son looked perfect, so happy and confident. And she had no problem with the other demands.
“I’ll do it,” she said fiercely. “I’ll do it all.”
Imamu looked at Malfoy. “Draco?”
Draco sighed and nodded. “Yes. Whatever you need.”

AN: Alright, now we know how the tribe works and I might have cheated a little and gave you a glimpse of the future... Now, on to the healing! And maybe some more smut. This rain is kind of spoiling the mood. As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed and sent such lovely positive vibes. For those who care, my mom is doing fabulous. She's even getting her hair back! She kind of looks like a q-tip... it's so soft! Anyway, keep the notes coming and let me know how I'm doing. It's kind of hard to stretch those writing muscles again. Until next time... love you guys!
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Three Conditions