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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“Miss Granger, what brings you to the Headmistress’s office?” Dumbledore’s portrait asked kindly.
Hermione gave him a weak smile and closed the door behind her. “I’m sorry to disturb you sir, but I’m in need of some advice and you’re… well, you’re the only person I know who might be able to help.”
“I’d be most delighted but I should warn you. I’m merely paint and canvas. I’m afraid it is quite limiting on knowledge.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “A magical painting is merely a shade of a person although they retain access to the memories of the person whose likeness is painted. But you can also learn things, if only from the frame of your portrait.”
He nodded and she realized that the painter had managed to capture the twinkle in his eye. A pang of sadness and regret washed over her. She missed her old headmaster dearly. Yes, he was a bit of a meddler and he kept too many secrets, but you could trust him to keep yours as well. That was really what she needed.
“I need help with two things actually, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Of course not, dear,” he said gently. “What troubles you?”
“I need to find a person who possesses the ability to heal with a mere touch and a thought rather than a verbalized spell.”
He nodded and fingered his beard for a while. “What you seek is called a sentient healer. They’re quite rare. In fact, the last person I’ve heard of was Kuwatti Kothbridge nearly a century ago.”
She blinked back tears of frustration. “But no one since?”
“I’m afraid not,” he said sadly. “Unfortunately, it’s not a common gift but it is even rarer among European wizards. You see, the ability to heal with a touch first appeared in African tribes of witchdoctors. A few, like Kuwatti’s family, left the tribes and mingled with other races. However, the magic died with them. I’m afraid it is one of the reason purebloods argued for purity.”
“Because certain traits died if they weren’t bred in,” she said dejectedly.
He nodded. “But others died if there were too many ties. Why do you suppose that muggleborns are as strong as they are?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Surely you saw the similarities between yourself and Lily Potter, both frighteningly brilliant, magically powerful, and possessing a certain fierceness of loyalty to boot. But unfortunately, Lily never learned to forgive fully, which is a tragedy. So many things could have been avoided had she been able to.”
“And yet, I fear it worked out the way it needed to,” she said softly.
“Indeed it did,” he said. “Although I do not relish it.”
“Certainly not,” she said. “But I need to find a sentient healer and if they have to be pureblood, I’ll leave no stone unturned. Are you sure they have to be of African descent?”
“They need to at least have it in distant blood,” he said. “I’m afraid it isn’t a trait that would just appear one day, unlike an elemental or an empath or even seers. Then again, the most extraordinary things can happen when you least expect them. Keep a weather eye, Miss Granger. I’m certain you’ll find what you’re searching for.”
She nodded. “I hope so. But the second part of the equation is much harder to come by.”
“Oh?”
She sighed and stared at the portrait of Snape that hung just to the side of Dumbledore. He was painted standing beside his workbench wearing his customary black robes that were buttoned all the way up to the throat. If only they had been able to protect his neck. Snape didn’t give a rat’s ass about her or Harry, but he might still uphold his duty to Lily to protect her son.
“Why did Professor Snape’s portrait never animate?” she asked. “I assume it was painted before his death.”
“Indeed it was. I insisted and though he grumbled the entire time it was being commissioned, he did as I asked.”
She had to smile at that. “I imagine he said a few choice words.”
“I don’t believe poor Professor Trelawney’s ears ever recovered.”
She frowned, remembering the fallen teacher. They were never friendly but the old witch had fought bravely until the bitter end. She almost wished she could drag Harry back to her and see if she could make a prediction. Never one to enjoy having her fate spelled out, she still thought it might be interesting from the aspect of giving Harry some hope. Then again, there wasn’t a day that passed when they were younger that the bug eyed woman didn’t predict Harry’s doom in one way or another. Funny enough, cancer never came into the equation.
“It should have animated,” she said again, studying the painting closely.
There was a caldron on the work bench but while the fire was clearly painted, it was as still as a muggle frame. She figured that at least the inanimate objects would have come to life. After all, pictures moved. Why should paintings be any different? And she’d seen a number of them that didn’t include any living thing in them. There was one in the Room of Requirement before it burned down that depicted a laboratory. It contained all sorts of trinkets that whirred and spun and puffed smoke and not one object in it was a sentient being.
“Not everything works as it should.”
“Of course not,” she said bitterly. “If it did, I’d have one less thing to worry about. With my luck lately, Professor Snape probably had it commissioned by a muggle painter.”
Dumbledore had a good chuckle. “I can assure you he did not, though it might seem that way. Did you need to speak with Professor Snape? I daresay an attempt to make amends for the past wouldn’t go over well.”
She gave a dry laugh. “Certainly not. I imagine he’d swirl around and leave the painting if I attempted it. But I do need to talk to him or someone that he might have confided in.”
He smiled at her not so subtle dig. “Ask away.”
“He created a very rare potion series that aided in curing rare mutated cancers. But he never revealed the ingredients or directions. I understand he was very secretive, but I need it.”
His smile faded. “Are you in need of such a regimen?”
She shook her head. “Not me personally but it is imperative I find it.”
“And you won’t take no for an answer.”
“If I have to call that bastard back from the dead and trap him, I will,” she said with a steely voice.
She was not about to let Harry die without doing absolutely everything in her power to help. If there was a solution, with Merlin as her witness she’d comb the planet to find it. And if she concentrated hard enough, she might forget her own problems. It had been almost a month since Harry had dropped a bombshell on her and she’d returned the favor.
She still hadn’t figured out what she wanted to do concerning her own problems. She knew she couldn’t terminate. She’d wrestled with herself for weeks and couldn’t do it. And now she was four months pregnant and thankful for the baggy robes that the wizarding world preferred. She was starting to show and it wouldn’t be long before others noticed. At least Draco had been called out of the country on business. She hadn’t had to face him yet. And if she needed to travel to Africa to find a healer for Harry, she might never have to. It sounded like a good idea to her.
“Miss Granger, I must insist. Why would you need such a rare potion, let alone a series of them?”
“I gave my word to keep that a secret, Headmaster,” she said politely. “And I believe you might know a thing or two about my resolve.”
“Indeed,” he said softly. “I also know that very few people have earned such loyalty from you, and even fewer still that you would travel to Africa for on a whim or call a séance with a long dead professor.”
She remained quiet but even in painting form, Dumbledore had guessed the situation. He wouldn’t ask her outright again, but that didn’t matter anymore. He’d keep her secret and hopefully, he’d discretely make inquiries for her. At least, she hoped he would. If not, she would most certainly be hopping a plane to Africa in the morning. She wished she could just port key, but international magical travel was frowned upon while pregnant. She might not have wanted or planned for a child, but she’d be damned if she risked its innocent little life when there were alternative methods.
“Professor Snape confided a number of things to me over the years,” he finally said after a lengthy silence. “We shared many a thought on potions and valued each other’s input. He was a most brilliant potion master, instinctive really. But he knew when he needed further help, like advice from an alchemist for example.”
“So he told you of the theory behind it?”
“Oh yes. We discussed it to great lengths. You see, he created it with a specific person in mind. Magically mutated muggle cancers don’t just appear every day. In fact, cases are so far and few between that no one has been able to do any study of worth to make progress.”
“Statistically,” she said cautiously, “how rare are we talking?”
“No doubt you’ve scoured every medical tome you could find.” She nodded. “I’ve seen exactly four cases in my life. The first was a dear friend Hetti that used to live in Godric’s Hollow. She worked at the local orphanage, such a wonderful woman. Unfortunately, she had a soft spot for muggleborn children and when a few of the local purebloods found out, they punished her for it. Such dark magic inundated her body that it caused the cancer to bloom in her lungs. She lasted five years. I was eleven when she died.”
Hermione blinked back tears. “That’s horrible.”
He nodded. “The second I met on a trip abroad, a victim of a cruel childhood prank. Scott was extremely sensitive to dark magic and the small amount used in the potion triggered cancer in his brain. He lasted a mere three months.”
She frowned. “Why such a difference?”
“Hetti had round the clock care and the support of the entire village. Scott’s family was poor and unable to afford the kind of care needed. His magic was used to sustain him every day.”
“And it spread rapidly,” she whispered, the words churning in her gut.
He nodded. “The third case was one I’d come across when the Death Eaters were still the Knights of Walpurgis. The muggleborn man was the unfortunate recipient of the very first torture session. Even though he never used his magic, he still died in a week from liver cancer. You see, his magical core flared to try and protect him.”
“And it exploded,” she said flatly. “So even if one refrains from using magic, their core still tries to fight.”
“And that’s where we come to the fourth. Professor Snape came across a few months after the Potters were killed. The aurors ran raids on loyal followers homes to find any prisoners. Maryssa was recovered from the LeStrange’s dungeon. She was just thirteen years old and already six months pregnant. The magic from the child was causing her ovarian cancer to run wild.”
“That’s why Professor Snape created it so it would target only specific areas of the body.”
“Yes. Each potion is the exact same in both preparation and ingredients. However, with the help of a few spells, each vial targets a different area of the body. He was able to successfully cure Vicky’s mother before her birth.”
“Vicky,” Hermione whispered. “Vicky Frobisher?”
“The same,” Dumbledore said with a small smile. “A fine young lady she turned out to be, too.”
“Didn’t she earn a charms apprenticeship?”
“She did indeed. In fact, if he were here, I believe Severus would gloat.”
“I’m sure. I’m glad it has been proven.”
“Aye, and Vicky has a new baby brother to show for it.”
“Can you please tell me the recipe?”
“I could,” he said wistfully. “But I’m afraid it would do you no good my dear.”
“Why ever not?” she growled indignantly. “You don’t think I’m good enough to brew it?”
“Oh, I have no doubt that you could. However, the binding agent for the main potion is a dark spell that has been twisted and repurposed. I’m afraid I only know a few people who have the talent to cast it, and fewer still who are still alive.”
“I’ll find them,” she said through gritted teeth.
“They aren’t hard to find, my dear. However, they are soulless.”
“Death Eaters,” she said sadly.
“I’m afraid so. You see, Regulus Black is the one who taught Severus the spell in the first place. He also taught the LeStrange brothers and the Carrows, although the latter hardly had the magical power to cast at the strength needed.”
“I don’t suppose he taught the Malfoys,” she said softly.
“I do not believe so,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowed in thought. “Although I could be wrong.”
She sighed and nodded. “Well, it’s a start. Could you please at least give me the recipe so I can study it?”
“Simply tap your wand to Professor Snape’s potions cupboard on the left hand side exactly three inches down from the top and two from the back. Then recite the words “the call comes again.” I’m afraid it won’t give you what you seek immediately. You’ll need to answer three questions. Answer them honestly or you’ll never regain access. Then simply recite the name of the potion and it should be provided.”
“No doubt Professor Snape came up with that one,” she murmured.
“However did you know?”
“Lucky guess,” she said wryly. “Ha- There was never mention of the exact name of the potion, sir.”
“Etiam Alter Locus.”
She dashed the tears that spilled over at the words. “Second chance.”
“I’ll make some inquiries as to sentient healers, Miss Granger, and I’ll have Minerva send you the coordinates if I should happen to find one.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” she whispered, barely able to keep her already raging emotions in check.
“After what has been done for the wizarding world, I’m not sure there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to help, Miss Granger. Please be sure to take care. Another loss would be senseless indeed.”
“Yes, sir. And thank you again,” she managed to croak before she made her way out of the office and down to the dungeons.
Dumbledore knew exactly what was going on and she hadn’t said a blessed word about Harry. At least she had his full support, what little he could offer anyway. But it was a start. Since Harry was in fairly decent health right now, she’d start with the healer first. They might be able to keep him healthy until she could find someone able to cast the spell on the potion. It would be a brilliant stroke of luck if Malfoy could, but the way her life had been going, he probably couldn’t. She didn’t doubt his skill, but learning a spell from scratch with no direction and nothing but some written words could be difficult at the best of times. She needed perfection.
She wandered around the dungeons for a few minutes until she finally found the abandoned classroom that held Snape’s potions cupboard. When Slughorn took over, Snape moved his stores into its current home down a little traveled hallway. She only knew about it because she’d overheard a few of the Slytherins make plans to open it. It packed some nasty surprises though so she would have to follow Dumbledore’s instructions to the letter.
Although the hallway had an inch of dust on the ground, she still sealed the classroom door behind her and put up a triple layer of silencing charms and protection spells. Snape might have been a bastard, but he’d saved their lives with his dying breath and she’d be damned if she disrespected him now. She marched across the room and blew out a breath before tapping her wand in the exact spot Dumbledore had told her to.
“The call comes again.”
She bit her lip and waited. Dumbledore had said that the recipe wouldn’t come immediately but she was unsure about the three questions. Would they be written? Perhaps Snape had left charms like they had in Grimmauld. She shuddered in remembrance and then jumped backwards and nearly screamed when Snape’s smooth baritone filled the room.
“Do you wish anyone ill will?”
She frowned. What kind of question was that? It was especially strange coming from a former Slytherin who thrived on revenge. But she answered honestly. And respectfully.
“No, Sir.”
“Do you have selfish intentions?”
She was about to answer no, because she was doing this for Harry. But she had to be honest with herself. She wanted Harry no matter what he had to go through to stay with her. So it was selfish in a way. But then again, if Harry said he didn’t want to fight, she’d let him decide. It would kill her, but she couldn’t force her friend to do anything.
“Mostly, sir,” she said softly.
“Clarify,” Snape’s voice declared.
Of course it would. Bloody spell. She sighed and cleared her throat. “I wish to help a person in dire need. But I can’t say I’m not doing it because I couldn’t stand to lose said person.”
Snape spelled voice sighed, actually sighed. “Is it Harry Potter?”
She cringed but she was truthful because she was so close. “Yes, Sir.”
She thought she detected some sort of a groan, but that was impossible for a spell. Although, Snape could have had that reaction when he made the spell. He didn’t really do much more than tolerate Harry when he was alive. It was a bit amusing really, that his spell would retain a bit of his personality. Another pang of regret hit her that Snape couldn’t be there to argue. This spell was much more preferable than a door slamming in her face and a full scale invasion of his home to force the man to talk to her.
“What potion do you require?”
“If you have it already made, I need Etiam Alter Locus. If not, I need the recipe.”
“What?” Snape’s voice shouted, almost squeaky with outrage. “What potion do you require?”
She frowned, confused that the spell wouldn’t recognize her request. Maybe she needed to simplify it. “Etiam Alter Locus.”
“I don’t have that potion.”
“Do you have the recipe?”
“You can’t make it.”
“You watch me you bloody pompous spell,” she snarled before reigning herself in. It wouldn’t do to piss the spell off, as weird as she felt for even thinking those words. “Please.”
“Very well,” the spell said after a time.
The cupboard door opened, revealing a small journal in a slot on the backside of the door. She sighed and took it, flipping through and realizing that this was the entire research notebook for the potion, complete with notes in the margins and potion residue from failed attempts. She clutched the book to her body and sniffled a few times.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Stop blubbering!” the spell snapped as the cupboard door slammed shut. “Place your finger in the precise spot you tapped your wand.”
She frowned and did as she was told, wondering if perhaps it was a way to seal the door back. She cried out in pain and shock when something sharp pricked her finger. She pulled back and gasped, surprised to see a red dot of blood welling up on it. She muttered a healing charm and cursed the cabinet.
“Are you bloody well through?”
But the cabinet remained silent. She shook her head and placed the journal inside her satchel. She wouldn’t let it out of her sight until Harry was well again.
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AN: I dunno guys, maybe I'm getting too predictable in my old age. You know that where there is a Hermione, there is a way! As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I read them in the waiting room for the doctor. Makes the next round of tests seem not as scary. :) Keep them coming and let me know how I'm doing. Until next time... love you guys!
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Three Conditions