Cheap Medicine
Tags/Warnings: Female Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Crack Treated Seriously, Jedi Maul (Star Wars), Dead Sheev Palpatine, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Some Plot, bare minimum, Fluff and Smut, Shameless Smut, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, The Jedi Run A Match-Making Service Now, just because, Wizarding World Bashing (Harry Potter), Darth Maul Needs a Hug, He Also Has His Legs, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, they all are really, Heats and Ruts Galore!, Maul Has A Filthy Mouth That Quotes Byron, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Not Canon Compliant.
Pairings: Fem!Harry/Maul/Kenobi/Skywalker, Hermione/Malfoy.
Chapter One:
Light Swords and Sith Lords
"Always laugh when you can, it is cheap medicine."
― Lord Byron
Hemlock Potter's P.O.V
The needle point slipped cleanly into the soft flesh of her thigh, and with one last push of the plunger, the yellow drug seeped into her veins. Sighing deeply behind her desk in the Senate, on a planet so very, very far from her home world, Hemlock Potter slid the needle free, applied pressure to the pinprick with a wad of cotton, and glared down fiercely at the empty bottle of suppressant sitting innocently before her.
It was the good stuff, the hard stuff, the kind of prescription only found in either the most costly hospitals or the darkest of black markets.
She had been on it since she was eleven, back when she had first started showing signs of her designation, nothing too exposing, a predilection for soft things, a tick of itching the glands behind her ears when nervous or anxious, burying herself under five blankets at bedtime, and a tooth for the sweeter stuff.
The little things that children did that painted a giant bloody sign above their heads screaming; OMEGA.
Problem was it was war time. Tom came back that very year, he came back every year, and having an Omega, as rare as they were, running about, unbonded, parentless, ripe for snatching, wasn't very… Productive.
Alpha's did that a lot, you see. Somehow turned it on the Omega's fault for their own lack of control. Hemlock seen those Omega brothels in Knockturn Alley, those poor bastards high off their minds with Alpha spit, and dear Merlin…
Nope.
It was for her own protection, Albus had told her in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, Madam Pomphrey ready at his side with the suppressants. It was for the best, she was told throughout the years, from the select few, so very few, who discovered the truth of her.
The Wizarding world didn't treat Omegas… Kindly, to put it mildly.
Circe, the first Wizarding war raged for eleven years over the prejudices thrown at Muggleborns, and House Elves were still customarily magically enslaved to families and-
It was for the best, and for a long while it had been just that.
Hemlock fought her war, died and resurrected, united the Deathly Hallows and shot down Tom Riddle, and on the strength of suppressants she was, no scent, urges suffocated to idle thoughts, she was seen as nothing more than a run of the mill plucky Beta or an Alpha on strong scent blockers.
That had suited Hemlock Potter just fine, thank you very much.
She didn't have to deal with Heats or Ruts, she wasn't bombarded day in-day out by smells and odours, and she didn't end up chained to someone's bloody bed like a trophy.
Silver linings and all that.
And then fuckin' space wizards had come spewing out the Veil, in the midst of their own war, with light swords and Sith Lords, and of course Hemlock ran headfirst to help them, because when didn't she run headfirst into trouble? And suddenly there was a huge bloody Galaxy, robots with Asthma, and a Chancellor who was, and how no one else had seen it was beyond her, pulling the strings all along.
Perhaps her experience with Albus Dumbledore had given her skill at spotting the 'kindly ol' man' act.
She wasn't going to miss Palpatine very much, maybe as much as she missed Albus, which was to say not at all
Bastards.
Good thing she was now, sort-of, Deathless, or his lightning fingers would have barbequed her the day she cornered him in his office with Master Maul and his Padawan Eldra.
The truth was before Hemlock knew it, she was here, in the Senate, twenty-four and a little war torn, with her own office as Representative of her people, her people now living a better life on Coruscant, sometimes helper of the Jedi, thought of as Beta.
Hemlock didn't correct them.
Not one.
Old habits die hard, and she would be lying if she said life wasn't easier this way.
Naturally, Hemlock knew, now, that Omegas were treated better here, almost cherished, respected as much as any Alpha and with all the rights and protections of a Beta. Morgana's tits, those Omegas that had followed her through the Veil to this bloody strange place, few as they were, now felt comfortable enough to state their designation on passports and files and to anyone who asked.
Hemlock was happy for them, truly, she was, every single one.
No one should live in fear.
That Senator Padme Amidala, who was quickly becoming a close friend, seemed all to happily mated with that Clovis fellow, no bruises or scars or gland Collars, and that young Jedi she had run into once or twice, Ahsoka Tano, appeared just as healthy and happy and-
And Hemlock Potter had been pretending that she was something she wasn't for a long time, and, sadly, when one pretended for so long, one almost forgot what they ever were to begin with.
She was sure there was some philosophical warning about drinking your own Kool-Aid, but she had not cared all too much.
That was her greatest mistake.
Still, even now, Hemlock couldn't quite shake the memories and horror stories she had heard from back home, Omegas sold in shady alley ways, set free in game preserves to be hunted at night for sport, bartered off by parents before they could walk.
Yeah, those were pretty hard to shift.
So, she just went on with it. Took her suppressants, kept her head down, and trudged along.
Then Hermione got a nasty bout of Borzark flu, and while checking up with her at the hospital, Hemlock had caught it, been admitted herself a day later, and, low and behold, her blood tests had shown high concentrations of suppressants, and unexpectedly, at twenty-four, Hemlock was facing the prospect of her very first Heat.
You see, what Albus or the nurses back home didn't say was that extended use of the Merlin damned drug would render the person infertile, and then, months after that, crippled, maybe even brain dead in some cases. By attaching itself to the nervous network and dulling all Omega based signals her brain shot off, it, in the end, burned those poor nerves to a crisp.
It was never meant to be a permanent thing.
Fourteen years at the maximum one should take the drug without risking infertility, fifteen for disability, and sixteen for death, and as a person coming up on their thirteenth year on the stuff, it was best not to risk further exposure the Droid had told her monotonically. Her next dose, scheduled for a month after her hospital stay, Hemlock was advised should be her last.
The very empty bottle sitting before her now.
Hemlock almost wanted to laugh.
Or cry.
Crying sounded nice right about now.
She was twenty-four, a war heroine twice over, and she had no bloody clue on how to do any of… this.
She didn't even have a boyfriend, Alpha or Beta, never had one, too busy with Horcruxes and Holocrons, and making sure she didn't die by next sunrise by some prophecy or prick.
"Is that the last dose?"
The voice came from her doorway, and Hemlock knew exactly who it was long before she glanced up from the bottle and spotted Hermione Granger lingering at the crux, dressed as if she had just come off the Senate floor, concerned glint in her eye.
"Unfortunately."
Stepping into the room, door slipping shut behind her, Hermione scowled.
"It's for the best, 'Lock."
Dashing the used needle onto her desk beside the woefully empty container, Hemlock sagged back into her chair and ran a tired hand down her face.
"I know. I know. It's just I… I have exactly two weeks before this suppressant leaves my system and either I am fucked metaphorically or physically. I have even less before my true scent starts leaking out the blockers and everyone spots the cuckoo hiding in their nest. It kind of puts a girl on edge."
Coming into the room fully, Hermione strolled around her desk to come to her side, cocking her hip against the wood, folding her arms, game-face strapped on tight.
"What are you going to do?"
Hemlock waved her hand dismissively.
"I don't know. I hardly know what to expect. The suppressant kept my… Uh… libido down low. Never really wanted to hold someone's hand let alone let them… You know."
Hermione scoffed at her.
"Well that's a lie."
Hemlock blustered, but Hermione cut her off sharply.
"I mean… Not never. I specifically remember you mentioning a certain Jedi Master after we took down Palpatine and the little dream you had about tracing his tattoos with your tongu-"
"I told you that in the strictest of beliefs that you were too drunk to remember it. And as I was similarly drunk off my tits, I find it being thrown in my face as poor taste."
Throwing off any mention of Master Maul, his tattoos, and that hazy dream she had, one she could hardly remember now, Hemlock shrugged pathetically.
"I was just going to, you know… Buy some of those toys Beta's like to use in the bedroom when they're role-playing as a different designation. Seamus told me all about it. They have a shop down in the lower levels-"
"Are you kidding me right now, Potter?"
Well… Shit.
Hermione only ever called her 'Potter' when she was being rather, extremely, stupid.
A trait Hermione had picked up from her own mate, Malfoy.
Hemlock's silence, it seemed, was answer enough to her rhetorical question.
"You can't go through your first Heat by yourself. They're deadly. Why do you think the Jedi make exceptions for Alpha's and Omega's to mate and bond? Otherwise they wouldn't have an Order to begin with, just a graveyard. Please tell me you at least tried to find someone?"
Hemlock attempted to smile as best as she could, but she was sure, so very fuckin' sure by Hermione's long and drawn sigh, that it was more wince than grin.
"Look, who was I supposed to ask? Most of our people are bonded already. You have Malfoy. Ron has Lovegood. Merlin, even Neville has Pansy."
Hermione's nose wrinkled as she shook her head despairingly.
"Here's an idea, 'Lock, what about the whole other planet we are currently living on?"
Hemlock grumbled.
"Who? Master Yoda? Please don't make me visualize that."
Kicking off from the table with a glare, Hermione began to pace.
Never a good sign.
"What about that Jedi General? I've seen him looking your way a few times across the Senate floor? His whole six-foot odd frame screams Alpha."
Hemlock nearly swallowed her own tongue.
"Skywalker? Yeah, he looks, alright. Looks like he wants to peel the skin off my bones. He's always glaring in that dark way he does. Frowny. I swear, I walked passed him once in the corridor on the way to the Senate, and he fuckin' followed me with his nose. He can't stand me. Skywalker is a no bloody go, 'Mione, unless you want to find me dead in a ditch somewhere, skinless."
Hermione, however, would no be deterred.
"What about that nice one? Master Kenobi? I saw you both in the tearoom once."
Hemlock shuffled in her seat.
"I took the wrong turn and bumped into him as he was leaving, and spilt his tea all down his front."
Hermione grinned, snapping her fingers.
"Yes, but I swore I saw him smiling at you. His cheeks were pink-"
"I'm pretty sure that was from the scolding tea I had just splashed over him, 'Mione."
Hermione ceased in her stride, looking at her almost… Despairingly.
"Well, what about Master Maul? Really?"
Hemlock sank down deep in her chair.
"We barely exchanged two words. He and his Padawan were the only Jedi I could find in the temple, and came with me to make the arrest. After that, I was too busy getting hit with Force Lightning to ask if he'd be keen on Gingers or not."
And that was when it happened.
The worst sign of all.
Hermione Granger's shoulders straightened, and she made way to her desk, right for Hemlock's Holonet.
"How the hell do you know my password-"
"Seeker01 is a terrible password, Hemlock. You need to learn better security. Now, move out the way. There's nothing else for it."
Rolling her chair to the side, knowing, personally, how dangerous it was to get between a determined Hermione and her goal, Hemlock hazard a probe when she saw some sort of submission page brought up in crackling blue light.
"And what exactly is this 'else'?"
Hermione tapped away.
"The Jedi Council runs a matching service. Something about being able to read Force, or Magic as we call it, and connect corresponding sets. We just need to sign you up and-"
Hemlock scrambled for her arm, tugging elbow and sleeve, voice low and frantic.
"We can't do that! Then they'll know! Everyone will know!"
Hermione stalled and glanced over her shoulder.
Her face was… Sad.
Sad and poignant.
"Hemlock, love, everyone is going to know regardless and… You do know you're safe here right? No ones going to hurt you for being what you are. Not here, and not now, and most definitely not with me around. You know I wouldn't put you in harm's way, right? This is perfectly safe."
Hemlock let go of her friends arm as if it burned her, trying to smile through the thrumming beat of her heart.
"Of course I know that."
But she didn't.
Not really.
Hemlock wasn't used to feeling 'safe', ever.
She knew how to kill a Basilisk, but Hemlock couldn't tell you what it was like to be hugged for any extended period of time.
She knew how to fly a broom, but she could not tell you what not triple checking your wards and locks every single night felt like.
She knew how to cast spells, but she could not tell you what being sung to sleep was akin to.
Hermione turned away from the holographic screen, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, squeezing caringly.
"We don't have to do this. Not if you don't want to… But you are on a two-week limit now, Hemlock, and I just… I just don't want to see you hurt or worse, and the Jedi are good. Everything's vetted and done above board."
Hemlock doesn't want to get hurt either, she'd had enough of that in her relatively short life and…
What was the worst that could happen?
If a match came through, then she had a plan, and if it didn't, well, there was always Seamus's advice, as poor as it was.
Sniffing out a hesitancy, Hermione pushed.
"And you get to message back and forth for a bit. Get to know each other better before you agree to meet. No pictures, no names-"
"No names? What's the point of that?"
Hermione smiled in response.
"High profile people use the service. They don't want any breaches of confidentiality or people getting persuaded by someone's public status. You're pretty high profile yourself. Think of it as a… Clean slate. No one coming in with this idea of 'the girl who lived' straight off the bat."
Now that did sound tempting…
"Alright. I'll give it a shot, but I make no promises."
Hermione beamed.
"Brilliant."
And typed away at the electronic form.
"They'll likely ask you to come in for a scan or two. Nothing much from what I hear."
Name: Hemlock Potter
Age: 24
Designation: Omega
Status: Unbonded
Wow. Her existence whittled down to four lines of text. That really did wonders for one's confidence.
Hermione, however, was all too happy with all this.
"You'll likely end up with a few matches to pick from, presumably a smaller pool than most others given how gifted you are in the Force, as the locals say. You should be able to pick out three, however-"
"I'm sorry… Three? What do you mean three?"
Hermione sent the form off before she turned, confusion clear on her face as daybreak in the sky.
"Omegas are rare, Hemlock, and given the scarcity they naturally bond in Quads. I thought you had seen Amidala, Clovis, Satine and Bo Katan together in the courtyard? Not that you're going to as far as bonding, obviously, but the offer will be there and-"
This time, Hemlock did choke on her spit.
"Three! No one told me anything about three! Circe-"
Hemlock leapt from her chair, rushing for the door as if Tom's ghost was nipping at her heels.
"I've got to get that bloody survey back, or smash the computer it was sent to!"
Hermione shouted over the chirp of the door opening, wide-eyed and pale.
"What do you mean you didn't know? It was discussed in our Care of Magical Creatures… Oh, right, yeah. You were in the hospital wing during that time-"
It was too late; Hemlock was already sprinting down the corridor for the turbo lift.
A.N: So I have some news. I'm going to be a bit busy with some important work stuff for the next month, which means my free time has plummeted to almost zero. I knew this was coming up, so I actually, for once lmao, planned ahead. I've had this fic sitting in my Doc manager since Christmas, as a tide over while I have to do boring life things. It's going to be a short fic, ten chapters, and will be updated once a week. This way, you guys have something to read, I have something to post, and in the small amount of free time I have, I can work on my other stories. That does mean, however, that it is highly unlikely that you will see another one of my fics updated in the next four weeks. I'll try, but I can't promise much.
So I hope this light-hearted, smutty little number might be something you enjoy in the time being. If not, sorry, but this is all I have lol. I had so much fun writing it, and I hope you will have just as much fun reading it.