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
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“Three more minutes, Ms. Granger,” Snape said quietly.
She nodded and straightened up, trying desperately to keep her stirring steady. She’d already been at it for an hour. Her arm felt like lead. She was starving, exhausted, and in need of the loo. But there was no stopping until her next ingredient, thankfully only three minutes away.
“Are you sure you can do this?” Malfoy asked softly.
She nodded solemnly. “Unfortunately, it’s a side effect of pregnancy. Or fortunately in this case.”
Malfoy nodded and began rubbing her lower back. She whimpered in thanks but didn’t dare let her hand falter. They’d begun brewing as soon as they’d left the main hut. Harry would stay with Nia for the remainder of their time there. She didn’t like it but she couldn’t argue. Nia was the best person for the job, though Hermione felt bereft without Harry. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d depended on Harry’s presence.
“After this step, you may rest,” Snape said as he carefully peeled the ebony bark. “You’ll need to be at your best for the last step.”
She snorted. “I cry at the drop of a hat anymore.”
“It isn’t the tears,” Snape chastised. “It’s the emotions behind them. I think you of all people should understand the toll this will take.”
She gritted her teeth and steadied her hands. Of course she knew the toll. Every tear she’d spilled these past few months had been for Harry. She’d shoved her turmoil aside for his. Her issues would wait. Harry’s would not. She’d never divulge it, but the appearance of Malfoy had her emotions in an upheaval as well. She’d just promised the life of her son to the Fang tribe. Malfoy vowed to be a part of her life in one way or another for practically his entire life. She was also contemplating just exactly what a potions apprenticeship would entail. And there was still Harry.
“It’s time,” Snape said, snapping her out of her thoughts.
She quickly wiped her brow with a clean glass stirring rod and flicked the sweat into the cauldron. Then she ran it between her breasts and repeated the action. Each swipe and flick added a few more droplets of sweat to the potion. Once she’d collected all she could, she gave the cauldron a vigorous stir. It turned the color of the murky waters of the black lake, a place she wouldn’t soon forget.
“Well done,” Snape appraised, studying the way the steam rolled off the cauldron in three tornado shaped spirals. “You have four hours.”
She nodded and marched away to relieve herself. She needed rest and to sort her thoughts out.
***
“Have a good kip?”
Hermione blinked her eyes and rubbed the sleep away. “Malfoy? What’s going on?”
Malfoy shuffled in the hut and sat beside her with a cool glass of water. “Almost time for the last step.”
She yawned and stretched before gladly accepting the glass. “Has it already been 4 hours?”
Malfoy hummed. “You have about half an hour before you have to be there.”
She nodded and drank the glass in one go before handing it back to him with a smile of thanks. “What’s the next step then?”
“I believe you’ll need to mix the shredded flitterbloom with essence of dittany.”
“Ah, yes. Do we have another small cauldron so I can boil the honeywater and salamander blood?”
Malfoy nodded. “Snape brought a few. I took the liberty of heating the fairy wing, unicorn horn powder, and star grass. They’re an even golden brown.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “We need to talk, Granger.”
She nodded and snuggled into him. “I know. But I’ve got to focus on Harry now or the potion won’t work.”
“Which is why I’ve been magnanimous and kept my mouth shut.”
“Magnanimous,” she snorted. “That’s a big word for you, isn’t it?”
“I’ll show you big,” he growled, pushing her to the bed and climbing on top.
She gasped at the heat in his eyes and shivered when she felt herself respond. Their “marriage” had only made her more frustrated and she wanted nothing more than to let him ravage her. But there wasn’t time. She gave him a peck on the nose and gently pushed him off. To her surprise, he followed reluctantly and held out a hand to help her up.
“We will finish this.”
She nodded and marched out the door. She had a potion to finish.
*
The potion looked like a stormy ocean, miniature blue-green waves crashed against the side of the cauldron only to be sucked back down and replaced by ripples and more waves going the opposite direction. Hermione sighed in satisfaction and looked to her new master for permission to proceed. Snape walked closer and observed the chaotic cauldron, waving his hand over the spray and wafting the potion towards him. It smelled like sea salt and lilies.
“Satisfactory,” Snape said blandly but she wasn’t fooled. She could see the pride shimmering in his eyes. She’d done well. But what now? Snape sighed and guided her a few feet away before he put a hand on either side of her jaw and made her look at him. “I do not envy you, Miss Granger. This will be a true horror.”
She frowned and then gasped as he brought out a small bottle of iridescent liquid. She’d recognized it immediately. She’d only seen its equal in Harry’s memories. “No.”
Snape placed it in her hand firmly. “This is a modified version of the poison that Dumbledore consumed. I’ve redesigned it specifically for this task. It can be guided with thought, though the effects are the same, save for the poison.”
Her fingers trembled. “You want me to relive my worst nightmares.”
“No,” Snape said determinedly. “I want you to relive your worst nightmares pertaining to Potter and only him. But this potion will do much more than that. It will play on your worst fears.”
“Harry’s death,” she whispered shakily.
Snape nodded. “The potion is safe for the baby and will have no lingering effects. Once your tears have been shed, I’ll administer the antidote and you may recover in your hut. You need to be as far away from the dark spells I need to cast as possible. The backlash is formidable and Draco will need to keep up a barrier spell just to keep the village safe.”
Hermione frowned, her mind spinning in turmoil. “Then who kept up the spell before?”
“Imamu’s father. He was a formidable wizard. The Fangs grieved his death for years, a true loss.”
“But why the potion? I’m sure I can cry. For Merlin’s sake, I do it all the time.”
“Yes but is it sustained, true agony sustained for nearly an hour in tears?”
She shook her head sadly and looked away. “I could try.”
“You would risk it?”
She sighed and fingered the potion vial, watching the liquid swirl in the glass. “How does it work?”
“It’s a bit like occlumency. You’ll need to clear your mind, organize your thoughts, and bring only one to the forefront.”
“Harry?” she asked, knowing the answer.
He nodded. “But not just Potter. You need to think of Potter as he is now, alone, in pain, dying.”
Tears sprung to her eyes. “And then?”
“Simply lean over the cauldron and let the potion take over. If you’re able to keep your mind focused on Potter for the first minute and do not rebel at the first visions, it will work perfectly.”
“Will you be holding me?” she asked cautiously. “Harry said Dumbledore was almost paralyzed for a bit and fussed like a toddler at the end.”
“I’ll be doing that,” Malfoy spoke for the first time since they began brewing. He walked up and put a comforting hand in the middle of her back. “Snape will need to keep a steady stir while your tears mix so I’ll position you correctly. I’m fairly certain I can keep you still enough.”
She gulped and nodded, fingering the cork. “How long?”
“Five minutes,” Snape intoned, picking up a silver stirring rod. “Begin clearing your mind now. I do hope it will not take you longer.”
She closed her eyes and began her deep breathing exercises. She’d learned occlumency to help Harry when Voldemort was constantly becoming intertwined in Harry’s thoughts. When Ron had left them while on the run, they worked on it to keep from discussing the elephant in the room, or more to the point, gone from it. They’d become insanely close during that time, though nothing romantic ever happened despite what Ron thought. They slept together many a night, she holding poor Harry as he screamed and thrashed. Eventually, they figured it out, a mixture of meditation and mind puzzles, concentrating on imaginary smoke or… waves. That was it. Waves.
She opened her eyes and stared at the cauldron, the mini-monsoon that was occurring within the pewter walls. It reminded her of the time she’d gone to the beach with her parents. It had been gloomy all day but just as they arrived, the storm hit. Lightening flashed and the wind howled and the sea churned. But somewhere in the chaos was a beauty she appreciated, the sheer strength and power in merely air and water. And like that, she drifted away in a sea of white foam and blue green. Peaceful. Ordered chaos within the monsoon of emotions she’d been feeling.
“Well done,” she heard Snape’s voice drift into her conscience like a soft breeze. “Now, begin focusing on Potter, his predicament, how you’d feel if you were to lose him. Again.”
And she did. The emotions hit her like bricks, crashing into the calm like a rock through a window. She saw Harry, the sweet little boy she’d first met who shunned Malfoy because he’d made fun of someone who’d shown him kindness. Harry, who thought nothing of giving freely, whether it be love, money, or time. Harry, who could not stand injustice, who stood up for her more times than she could count, who sacrificed himself for the greater good. Harry, who hung limply in Hagrid’s arms as Voldemort crowed to the world. The grief was overwhelming, the sense of loss and hopelessness, like nothing would ever be right in the world again.
Harry. Harry, who fought his way back somehow and took out a menace that had plagued the wizarding world for generations. Harry, who gave his time to rebuild the school, the world really, so that it would be there for generations to come. Harry, who’d unfairly had this disease thrust upon him, who’d bravely accepted his fate, who’d trusted only her with that information. He’d flown halfway across the world, lived a primitive life, and put up with all of her incessant questions and prodding and emotional states because she couldn’t let him go. He didn’t want to die. She knew that. But he didn’t want to trouble anyone so he could live. He wasn’t selfish like that. Like her.
She kept the tears in check but the grief and guilt collided, nearly knocking her breath away. How could she just stand idly by and watch him suffer like that. How could she drag him to Africa of all places, and specifically to a place that was killing him. But there was hope here. Hope. He could live. But she had to let herself grieve, let herself experience the agony of loss, let herself… let him go.
The potion felt like slime as it slid down her throat. And it tasted like bile. She gagged but she forced herself to swallow it. She deserved this, deserved the discomfort, something to make amends for forcing her best friend to suffer. But he was already suffering, dying, withering away in agony before her very eyes. He didn’t deserve it. He’d known nothing but service and sacrifice since his birth and how had he been repaid? With endless torture that increased every day. But the thought of him giving in, taking his last breath…
The visions came swiftly, Harry’s back bowed unnaturally as whips lashed at his body, tearing at his stomach and spilling the contents of his middle. She almost threw up at the sight and remembered what it meant. The potion was working. She focused on Harry, the pain in his face, the unnatural screams being ripped from his throat… no… his soul. And the tears came.
She knew instinctively that Malfoy’s arms had wrapped around her and were guiding her tears into the cauldron. But the visions were terrifying, all centered around losing Harry. She’d seen him die a million times in a million different ways, each one more horrific than the last. But one, she couldn’t bear it in her soul to the point that she nearly broke free. She’d seen herself flay Harry alive with nothing but words and her bare hands.
She wept. She was in hell and she wept until there was nothing left to give and then she wept some more. Her mouth was dry, her throat on fire, and her eyes had to have been nearly swollen shut with the force of her grief. She deserved this, not Harry. And just like that, a cool sensation flooded her. The jagged glass in her throat disappeared and the cotton in her mouth cleared. And though the grief still clung to her, she no longer saw the terrorizing images or felt the need to shed another tear. She’d mourned all she could tonight.
“Easy, Granger,” Malfoy whispered in her ear. “It’s over. Let’s get you into bed so you can rest. We’ll take it from here.”
Hermione could barely nod her head as she stumbled along, thankful that Malfoy was there. He’d been nothing like she’d thought he’d be. But she couldn’t think on it any longer. All she hoped as he laid her down and gave her another glass of water was that she could fall asleep without the dreadful visions of the past hour plaguing her.
“Sleep well, Granger. All will be well in the morning.”
AN: Hey guys, it's me, Goldhorse. Surprise! Not dead. And neither is my mother, who is in remission by the way. Unfortunately, they'll never consider her type of cancer cured, but it's gone and that's all we could ask. Thanks for the thoughts, the stories, and the reviews. I read all of them a million times. I've not had the time to sit and write just for me in a long time so... I'm probably really rusty! Anyway, hopefully I can get this one finishe dpretty quickly. I've gotten some inspiration *FINALLY* and I intend to use it. As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed. They mean the world to me. Keep them coming and let me know how I'm doing. And as always, until next time... Love you guys!!!
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Three Conditions