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Quartet	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 128263 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
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A/N: justheretosayhi: I feel your pain <3 And I desperately wish I could just post the rest of the chapters in one big release so I could get this story off my chest and satisfy your burning curiosity. Alas, I find myself still editing the coming chapters. (Soooo much editing O_O) Hope you hold out till I get it all up (but you will have some answers to your questions very soon—maybe not in this chapter, but at least by tomorrow). <3 <3 <3
79—Climax
“Don't stop believing.”—Journey
(Hermione) 
Hermione headed for the cauldron she’d set up on the table by the bed, her heart hammering, sure this would be the moment she tripped and smashed everyone’s hopes all over the floor in some grotesquely clumsy tragedy.
She shuffled her feet just to be safe, in contact with the floor at all times.
Arriving at her destination, Hermione almost collapsed, lightheaded with relief. Bloody hell. She never thought she’d be so happy to make it across a room in one piece. 
Now all she had to do was add her best friend’s blood to what was probably the most important potion she would ever brew, all while trying not think about how she'd just seen him dead in the bathroom. No sweat.
Picking up her pipette with trembling fingers, Hermione carefully dipped the tip into the phial and sucked up a dropperful. The liquid gleamed like burnished rubies, beautiful in a way that made her want to gag. Swallowing thickly, she fought off her growing nausea and dripped the viscous liquid into the stabilized Tentacula base one drop at a time.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Ginny stood by her side, waiting with a sterilized phial for the finished product, her eyes focused on the potion’s progress. Both of them were barely breathing, afraid one wrong gust would somehow throw the room into chaos and destroy all their hard work. Or maybe there just wasn’t enough air in the hospital, which would explain why it felt as if an elephant had been sitting on Hermione’s heart since she'd entered the building. She wanted to run outside and gulp up all the fresh air she could—but she couldn’t bear to leave James again. Not even for a second. 
Inserting a glass stirring rod into the bubbling concoction, Hermione slowly stirred, first clockwise then anti-clockwise, seven times each way, counting every revolution out loud so she didn’t make a mistake. When she completed the final rotation, the potion burbled, frothy bubbles of puss-colored foam rising to the surface; and with a sickly fizzzz the mixture turned a nasty shade of mustard-orange. 
Hermione lifted her wand and aimed it at Snape’s portable cauldron. Her hand refused to stop shaking, but steadiness wasn’t required to perform the transmutation spell. Just intention. She had to focus on her love for James. Or at least that was the impression she’d gotten from her “experience” in the storm. Along with the incantation. And the secret ingredient. 
Good Goderic, she was placing a lot of trust in her intuition. But Severus had come away with the same claircognizant revelation, so she had to assume they weren’t both suffering from identical potion-themed delusions.
The only problem was she didn’t know how, exactly, to focus on her love for James. Should she just look at him? Or did the situation call for something special? A trigger maybe?
Hermione decided she needed an affection anchor, a memory packed so full of love she couldn’t help but feel that sweet tug in her heart. 
And she immediately knew which memory to use.
Closing her eyes, Hermione took herself back to May seventeenth and, immersing herself in every detail, relived the moment she’d first held James, just minutes after his birth. Her heart throbbed precisely as it had that morning, pulsing with a tenderness so strong it made her chest ache. She still ached for James, only now the pulse was fueled by grief. 
But grief held a power all its own, a magic few appreciated. 
Enunciating each word as clearly as she could, Hermione gave voice to the ache in her heart, “Conjunctionis . . . Conmussi . . . Amantis.”
The potion flashed metallic gold and spun itself in a small whirlpool. Hermione and Ginny both stared, rooted in place, utterly astounded. The swirling slowed to a sloshy stop, and the mixture shifted colors, transforming to a bright emerald green. Like Harry's eyes.
“What the hell was that?” Ginny whispered.
"I don't know. But it seems like a good sign. Right?”
“I hope so.”
Hermione held the funnel while Ginny poured the shimmering green brew into the thin phial. The liquid moved smoothly, but appeared thick, like chocolate that had been melted over a flame. Hermione hoped, for James’s sake, that it tasted just as sweet. 
Once she got it all in, Ginny held the potion up to the light, studying it with a small frown. Her gaze slid to Hermione, and her eyes filled with fresh tears, the dam almost spilling over.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“Me too,” Hermione echoed, clasping her hands over her hollowed gut.
Ginny pressed her lips into a tight line, resolute with determination—a mama lion to the bitter end—but when she blinked, two fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and she made no move to wipe them away. “Maybe you’d better hold this for me while I pick him up.”
Taking the phial, Hermione clutched it in a tight fist—and then wrapped her other hand around that hand to keep everything steady.
Ginny leaned over the bassinet and lightly bundled the baby in a blanket, gathering his limp body in both arms. With a sleepily blink, James awoke and made a small sound of fussy discomfort.
“I know,” Ginny cooed soothingly. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got something for you; and I know you must be hungry—you missed your last two meals. How about some breakfast?”
Snapping into Mummy Mode, Ginny sat on the vinyl love seat, patting James’s bum with featherlight fingers, settling him with a practiced ease that made Hermione want to weep. Ginny might be the Harpies next rising star, but she was already a pro at mothering. It came to her so naturally.
For a minute, Ginny and James rocked back and forth, slowly falling into sync with one another, and Hermione watched them with open amazement, feeling as though she were witnessing one of nature’s marvels. 
When his squalling quieted, Ginny nodded at Hermione. “All right, I think he’s ready.”
Hermione passed her the phial, and Ginny held it up it where James could see, her face scrunched in an imploring wince.
“You’ve got to drink this for me, okay? I know it’s not milk and there are no boobies involved, but it’s going to help you feel better.”
Hermione wiped her face and sat across from them in the little chair they'd stolen from the empty room next door. Her stomach roiled and churned, the threat of seeing a reprise of her minuscule breakfast looming at the back of her throat.
“You have to really drink it,” Ginny continued in a shaky whisper. “You can’t do that weird thing where you hold it in your mouth and then spew it out all over your chin. I don’t know what it tastes like, so I can’t guarantee it’ll be pleasant—but you have to swallow it. For me. Please.”
She was crying outright by that point, her tears spattering James’s discolored skin like rain. Hermione doubled over and clutched at her throat to staunch the bile creeping up her esophagus. Good thing that potion wasn’t for her; she’d definitely be spewing it everywhere.
Ginny looked into James’s eyes as if memorizing him, and Hermione knew she was thinking it might be the last time she saw him alive.
"I love you,” Ginny whispered, smiling at him through her tears, “. . . forever and ever.” And with a wobbly gasp she bowed her head and gave his pocked cheek a final kiss. “Stay with me, my heart.”
Hermione held her breath as Ginny touched the phial to the baby’s lips, afraid he wouldn’t take it, but James must have found it somewhat nipple-like, because he latched on with no hesitation. While he drank, Ginny stroked the side of his cheek with one finger, humming softly under her breath. They stared into each other's eyes, and the gentle love that passed between them permeated the room with a rosy warmth that rivaled the heralding of the dawn. Hermione felt herself melting in their glow, but her liquified insides insisted on coming out through her eyes, and for several minutes she couldn’t see anything except a sea of saltwater.
When the phial was empty, Ginny gently pulled it away, and James made a face at her, as if she’d just given him a helping of liver and onions.
Sputtering out a surprised smile, Ginny kissed his head again and rubbed her cheek over his black hair, her body quaking with swallowed sobs. “Sorry, love. I promise you don’t have to drink any more. Just try to rest now.”
They both sat there, crying as quietly as possible, Hermione chewing her bottom lip to a pulp. She knew if would be swollen and sore later, but she couldn’t stop. What if she'd made a huge mistake? What if they were wrong? What if the potion needed something else and they’d misunderstood?
If the venom hadn’t been buffered properly, would James just stop breathing? Surely it would hurt him, and he would cry. Or scream. She covered her ears to block out the wailing in her head.
But then another thought struck, and she sat up straight, her brain spinning: what if the potion didn’t kill him but it just didn’t work? 
What if they’d buffered the venom so thoroughly that it couldn’t kill the dragon pox?
What if Harry’s love was too powerful?
Climax—the most important or exciting part of a musical piece.
“Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey. Written by Steve Perry, Jonathan Cain, and Neal Schon. Released in 1981.
Fun fact: This song is the best-selling digital track from the 20th century. Over 7 million copies sold in the US.
Besides being a brilliantly written, kick-ass rock anthem, “Don’t Stop Believin” is a super interesting song, in that its chorus (and first mention of the title) doesn’t happen till almost the very end. There are two “pre-choruses” before the ending, but weirdly the single recitation of the chorus also becomes the climax of the song. (How apropos for this chapter title. I love it!)
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1k8craCGpgs
Hopefully these definitions I found online are accurate (but I apologize if I have butchered the meaning of the latin). (Also, I can’t remember where I got these definitions. My notes seem to be missing the source, and my search came up empty. WTF?)
Conjunctionis
1. joint occurrence/conjunction
2. mutual love/familiarity, match, fellowship
3. union
Conmussi
1. (w/love)
2. burn up/away
3. consume/destroy w/fire
4. reduce to ash, cremate
5. scald
Amantis
1. beloved/dear to
2. friendly/kind
3. having love/affection
4. loving/fond/affectionate
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