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.

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“STUPID DRUNKEN BET!”
The potion vial Hermione had been glaring at for twenty minutes flew across the room and smashed into the wall. Even dripping down the floral patterned wallpaper in a congealed mess, the blue color she’d been dreading was practically mocking her.
In the three months since Hogwarts had reopened, she’d still not figured out exactly what she wanted to do with her life. She lacked the funds to keep herself in limbo forever but each of her choices came with conditions that were unsavory and she wasn’t ready to become anyone’s puppet. So far, all she’d managed to do was pick up a few odd jobs for McGonagall around the castle and land a night stocking job at a muggle bookshop. She actually quite enjoyed it. For now.
One other thing in her life was causing her grief too. Draco Malfoy, the bloody sneaky bastard. She’d made it clear when she left the Room of Requirement that she wouldn’t be repeating her mistake. After all, a round or 7 of shagging, a few hours sleep, and a very nasty hangover could help a person see the light. But he insisted a deal was a deal, no matter how drunk the makers were. She thought he was just trying to get under her skin until he showed up a few weeks later outside of the bookshop.
She didn’t get off until three in the morning so there wasn’t a soul around. She’d nearly hexed his bollocks off when he suddenly appeared from around the corner but managed to hold back. He’d merely smirked and shoved her against the door, telling her that it was time to make good on his end of the bargain. She’d insisted that once was enough but they both knew that was a lie. They managed to make it to a deserted alley before he took her roughly against the wall and a second time on the ground. Her knees ached for days after that, not to mention other areas.
She thought that would be the end but then she’d seen him at the War Orphan’s Gala only a week later. He looked positively edible in his deep green robes. She’d gone with Jeremy Flanahan, some Ministry puppet with orders to recruit her. But the ticket was free and the orphans could use the publicity. There were so many since the war and the orphanage just couldn’t keep up. She was bored to tears fifteen minutes in and if she had to hear one more word about exciting opportunities, she’d hex someone. So when she saw Malfoy creep into the hall after giving her a fleeting wink, she followed.
He chuckled and spun her around as she ran past trying to catch up with him. The cupboard he’d somehow found and successfully pulled her into was surprisingly roomy. It was only illuminated by his wand, which made the entire situation seem even more naughty and dangerous. Then he said the words that made her hate herself and still not care.
“I knew you’d come around.”
He’d made her come three times in the fifteen minute time frame they’d allotted themselves and hadn’t messed up a hair on either one of their heads. She was quite thoroughly sated and begrudgingly impressed. The man knew charms that could take wrinkles and smells away better than any professional laundry. The rest of the evening was easier to tune out, especially with recent memories of deft fingers, a talented tongue, and a cock that wouldn’t stop. She realized that their little arrangement did have its benefits. That absolute best part about the entire thing was that no one had a clue that it was going on.
She should have known that a few moments worth of pleasure in time would have its own consequences. The potion dried in a gooey bluish grey mess halfway down her wall, silently judging her for her recklessness and serious lack of judgement. When she’d missed her period last month, she’d chocked it up to stress and a fucked up sleep schedule. After all, switching back and forth between days and nights could mess up anyone’s biological clock. She’d never been very regular anyway. But when she started throwing up every time she even caught a whiff of coffee and couldn’t seem to get enough sleep, she realized that she’d missed not one, but two. And that potion was still insulting her for it.
She refused to let herself panic just yet. There were still options. She needed to find out exactly how far along she was because she’d been fucking Malfoy regularly for three months. This last month seemed to be nothing but spreading her legs for the fertile bastard, but she’d made sure they were careful every time. They both used spells, just in case. Even when he rushed her one night at a club when she’d been throwing Luna and Lavender an engagement party; she’d still had enough sense to cast the charm before he took her hard and fast in a bathroom stall. She couldn’t even remember her name after that one. But there was one time when they hadn’t even thought about it.
She smacked her head against the wall and groaned. Of course she’d get pregnant the very first time she’d fucked Malfoy. Because that would be just her luck. She vanished the potion from her wall, tired of its dooming presence, and marched outside. There was luckily a women’s health clinic not too far. A few timely and less than legal spells and she’d have an answer within the hour.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
Hermione groaned and rubbed her face with her hands. Of all the times for Harry to show up, he had to do so now. Why now anyway? She normally had to forcibly drag him out of his hidey hole in Grimmauld. It didn’t matter right then though. She had a mission and she wasn’t about to be deterred.
“Got to get to the doctor,” she said in a clipped tone and promptly got in her car.
Unfortunately, Harry followed. “Are you ill?”
“In a manner of speaking,” she said cryptically as she fired up the engine. “Did you have something you needed to talk to me about?”
Harry sighed and buried his hands in his hair. “I really hate to bother you, but I need you.”
“For what?” she asked distractedly.
She was busy running possible scenarios through her mind, trying to pick the best one and the worst one for comparison. At best, the potion was faulty and she just needed some hormone replacements or maybe some rest. At worst, she was three months pregnant with Malfoy’s forbidden love child. It wasn’t even a love child really, more like fuck-buddy accident. Merlin that sounded horrible and slaggish.
“I’m scared.”
Hermione frowned as she pulled into the parking lot and studied Harry. The clinic was a good twenty miles away. Had he really been quiet that long? He looked horrible. His normally messy hair was now a rival for Hagrid’s beard, sticking every which way and…. Was that a baby acromantula hanging from a cobweb in his hair? His face was pale and drawn and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a month.
“What’s going on, Harry?” she asked, feeling like a shit friend at the moment for not noticing his distress.
“Hermione… I’m dying.”
Her heart immediately leapt into her throat and she was hard pressed not to vomit. But, true to her nature, she swallowed down her fears and tried to focus on Harry. He’d never been afraid of death before. Hell, he’d walked to it willingly. What had changed?
“How?” she managed to whisper.
Harry groaned and leaned back against her seat. “You remember the party we had when Hogwarts was finished, right?”
She flushed and nodded. She wouldn’t be forgetting that anytime soon. “What about it?”
“Well, that night I started throwing up. I figured I’d just had too much to drink.”
“A fair assumption,” she said wryly. They’d all been a little past sober but Harry had been particularly red faced that night. It was nothing out of the ordinary.
Harry chuckled sadly and shook his head, staring at the ceiling of her car. “But I didn’t stop for two days and by that time… I was vomiting blood.”
Her stomach sank into her shoes. “Did you see a healer?”
Harry nodded, turning to look at her with tears in his eyes. “Of all the things in the past eight years that could have killed me, it had to be… and all the times I was in hospital, how could they have not known…”
Hermione ignored her churning stomach and reached out to grab both of Harry’s hands. They were cold and trembling and that upset her more than anything. She’d seen him at his absolute worst and he’d never been so afraid. Harry deserved happiness, probably more than anyone she knew. But she had to know what it was so she could help him.
“Known what, Harry?”
Harry burst into great sobs. “I have cancer.”
Hermione couldn’t help the tears that flowed down her cheeks. Poor Harry. She couldn’t even think at the moment. She grabbed Harry and pulled him into her chest, silently willing him some comfort. It took a while for him to calm but she didn’t mind. His problem was definitely worse than hers. At the most, her reputation would be shattered. Harry’s life was at stake. She immediately switched back to planning mode as soon as the tears were dried.
“What’s the prognosis?”
“Not good,” Harry whispered as he sat back in his seat. “You’d figure that magic could cure anything, but not this time. It’s some sort of mutated muggle cancer. They think that the last spell I cast during the war, the one that locked wands with Voldemort, backlashed. I had to have already had some cancerous cells or something because the magic latched onto it and started growing.”
Hermione nodded. “Almost everyone has a few cancerous cells. Cancer is merely a cell anomaly. In a healthy body, those cells are destroyed by the healthy ones and no one is ever the wiser.”
“Well, I’ve never exactly been healthy have I?” Harry said dryly.
She smiled sadly. “I suppose not. Do they have a way to treat it?”
He shook his head. “It would require a modified treatment course using both muggle chemotherapy and magical regenerative healing. There is a series of potions that somehow mimics chemotherapy’s ability to destroy the cells. If they are brewed properly, they can target a particular area instead of all destroying everything like muggle chemotherapy. Then restorative elixirs and healing magic would repair the damage. It can’t be done on more than one organ or body area at a time. So they’d have to treat the stomach first and then move to the other parts. It’s dangerous and tricky because the cancer, once attacked, could spread much faster. So instead of the three years they’ve given me, I’d have… three months.”
“But they could treat it before then,” Hermione said cautiously.
“Theoretically,” Harry said, more tears leaking from his eyes. “But it can’t be done.”
“Why not?” she asked indignantly.
Harry looked at her with the most haunted look she’d ever seen. “It’s a two part process. It requires someone who is so in tune with healing magic, they merely need to lay hands on someone and think a word to heal them. The last known person to possess that magic died a century ago.”
“I’m sure we could find someone with that ability,” Hermione said firmly. “Or we could find someone who was willing to tandem cast, or possibly a team.”
Harry gave her a sad smile. “They thought of that too, and it’s entirely possible.” His face crumpled in despair. “But there are two parts. There was only one potion master in the entire world that could brew the potion series. He created it, patented it, and never revealed the ingredients or instructions to anyone.”
“So we’ll find him,” Hermione said confidently.
Harry shook his head, tears freely flowing down his cheeks. “We watched him die on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.”
Hermione’s heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Of course Snape would have to create a miracle potion and take the secret with him to the grave. They couldn’t even ask his portrait. The blasted thing had never animated like the others. She didn’t know if it was because it wasn’t charmed before Snape died or that the bastard was just that stubborn.
“Oh Harry, I’m so sorry.”
Harry shrugged. “Nothing you did. Just my bloody rotten luck.”
“Three years,” she whispered.
Harry nodded. “As long as I try to avoid the wizarding world, don’t exert my magic, and go in for regular regenerative treatments. Healing alone slows it to a crawl. Using magic aggravates it, which is why if I started the healing series, it would almost kill me before I’d be cured. I could have had six year if I hadn’t worked on Hogwarts.”
Hermione scraped tears out of her eyes and grabbed Harry’s hand again. “I won’t give up.”
He smiled and patted her hand with his free one. “That’s my girl. But I need you to do me a few favors.”
“Anything.”
“You can’t tell anyone.”
She frowned. “Why ever not? You need support!”
He shook his head. “The Weasleys are just now starting to put their lives back together after Fred. Neville told me just yesterday that he’s thinking of asking a girl in his herbology class out. Luna and Lavender are more than happy. McGonagall’s busy running the school and Hagrid is trying his best to help. Everyone is moving on and I don’t want to set them back.”
“But what about you?” Hermione asked, tears pricking her eyes.
He patted her hand again. “It’s unfair of me to place this burden on you but you were there for me at a time when no one else was. And we did just fine. Just be there for me. That’s all I need is one friend in my corner.”
“And whe – if you start going downhill?”
Harry sighed. “Be my cover. I know it’s a lot to ask-“
Hermione held a hand up to stop him. “No, no. After what I have to tell you, those three favors will be a fair trade.”
Harry frowned and quirked a brow. “Does it have anything to do with why we’re sitting in the doctor’s parking lot?”
She nodded and bit her lip, staring pensively at the front door. “Same deal, Harry. You can’t tell a soul no matter what. I need you there for me, as much as you can be. And I’ll need you to cover for me.”
“Deal,” Harry said.
She laughed a little hysterically. “You might not be so sure in a moment.”
“You’re hiding my death. What could possibly be worse than that?”
She sighed and closed her eyes. “I’m pregnant.”
He was quiet for a moment before chuckled. “That’s not worse.”
She looked at him and tears flowed again. “It’s Malfoy’s.”
Harry turned about twelve different colors before blowing out a breath. “Tell me it wasn’t forced.”
She snorted. “You honestly think he could?”
Harry shook his head and rubbed his temples. “No, but it’s almost easier to swallow.”
She hummed. “It was a drunken tryst. I was pissed at Ron. He was pissed at the world. And we were both pissed out of our minds.”
“It didn’t end there,” Harry said confidently.
She huffed and shook her head. “No. We’ve been, well, not seeing, but-“
“NO details,” Harry said quickly, his face turning a scary shade of green for a second.
“Fine. It hasn’t stopped. It’s not regular. We don’t love each other or anything. It’s just…”
“Release,” Harry said, shuddering and gagging a bit.
“I never said I was perfect,” she snapped.
He held his hand up and shook his head. “I’m not judging. It isn’t like there are vast opportunities to date out there… unless you’re Ron.”
“He’ll take whatever attention he gets,” she said angrily. “But no, no one of substance has come along. In the meantime, I have needs and I know Malfoy is discrete. In fact, I’m not even supposed to be telling you this, but under the circumstances…”
“How exactly did this happen anyway,” Harry asked, motioning to her stomach. “You’re the most responsible person I know.”
“If this test comes back the way I think it will,” she said quietly. “I was too drunk to care.”
“Oh, Hermione,” Harry said sadly. “Looks like I’m not the only one with rotten luck.”
She smiled sadly and shook her head. “Guess not. Do you… do you want to come with me?”
Harry nodded. “What are friends for?”
Hermione was glad Harry was there when she got the news. Three months pregnant with Draco Malfoy’s baby, just as she thought. Harry was probably the only thing keeping her from breaking down. But after all was said and done, she was left alone in her flat to cry.

AN: They say write what you know. Sorry it took a turn for the angsty. As always, thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm glad you like the premise, though I find it a bit depressing. Keep those reviews coming and let me know how I'm doing. Until next time... love you guys!
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Three Conditions