The Similarities of Love and Hate
By Caitlin Wasson
Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, would I waste my time writing fanfiction on my own creations?
Chapter Five
Potions
XxXxXxXxX
Hermione hated her morning sickness potion. Or rather, she loved the potion since she could finally eat but despised the sympathetic look Madam Pomfrey gave her every time she came down for her dose. After swallowing her pride yet again, Hermione took her potion and continued on to breakfast.
It was October the first and it was a crisp fall morning with swirling leaves in the enchanted ceiling of the great hall. Hermione took her place at the table between Ron and Harry, helping herself to four waffles, a ton of bacon, and a bowl of fresh fruit. She thought longingly of lunchtime when she might be able to get a hold of some pickles. If only the house elves could make her mother's potato salad…
Ginny looked at her strangely. "You must be hungry Hermione. I haven't seen you eat like this for a while."
"Yeah, well, I skipped dinner last night," she replied. That was a lie. While she hadn't eaten in the Great hall, she'd nicked food from the kitchens and eaten later. She had been in the infirmary getting her 13-week check up. So far, everything was fine but Hermione had lost weight rather than gain it. She had told Hermione to start eating more, and then maybe she'd have an excuse for her expanding waistline. It would only take two more weeks before she needed to start hiding her pregnancy or buy maternity clothes.
Ron shook his head. "Well I guess eating for two does that."
Hermione looked up, completely stricken. The blood drained from her face as she looked wildly from side to side. Luckily, only Ginny heard him.
"Eating for two?" Ginny asked, confused. "What in the world is he talking about?"
"Um… Ginny…" she began awkwardly. "You remember that night I was taken to the Deatheater's meeting? Well, you see, they have this initiation procedure involving that taking of a muggleborn and—"
"Oh. My. God!" Ginny said. "The weight gain? The mood swings? The pickle cravings?"
Hermione nodded grimly.
"Who?" Ginny demanded.
"Blaise Zabini," she answered.
Ginny's eyes and mouth formed round circles in her face.
"I'm fine," Hermione said. "Really." She finished her bacon and stood up. "I have to go to the library. I have a make-up essay to complete."
Taking up her school bag, she walked out of the hall and down the corridor toward the library. She loved books almost as if they were her dearest friends. Madam Pince greeted her warmly when she entered the room and Hermione set her bag down on the table. In her sixth year, she had obtained permanent access to all sections of the library, including the restricted section and the section for teachers. She supposed it was because all the teachers knew she'd read almost every book in the hugely vast library and needed something new. Hermione took full advantage of this position and walked right into the restricted section for the book of potions she needed, Poisonwood.
The book was huge and bound in black leather. Its outward appearance was ordinary enough but one only needed to turn to page one to see the first illustration depicting exactly how an abortion potion worked. Carefully, Hermione set the book on her desk and returned to the restricted section. Making sure no one was looking, she ducked behind the stacks into the darkest, most unused section of the library. Climbing up the later to the very top shelf, she extracted the book she needed. Despite the fact that the book was in the restricted section, its contents were not dark or evil. The potions and spells contained in it were just extremely potent and could be dangerous if given to the wrong person. It contained potions for invisibility, strength, and even the exact recipe for the elixir of life.
Her prize in hand, Hermione negotiated herself down the ladder and sat down at the desk, opening the first book. She dipped her quill into the ink and placed the tip against the parchment, ready to write.
Asphodel has many uses in potion making, most notably for its use in sleeping potions as well as for abortion potions. The sedative quality of asphodel that makes it useful in sleeping potions (such as the draught of the living dead) is too strong for unborn children. Upon consumption, asphodel enters the bloodstream of the unborn child and puts them into a coma-like state for a few hours. Gradually the body processes stop and the child ceases to live. The death, as far as we can tell, is painless.
Hermione shook her head. It was somewhat of a compliment that Snape thought she was smart enough not to wreck her life like this… but was it really ruining anything? She still had dreams and plans, only now there was a baby in there… it only took her half an hour to scribble down (and to most standards, her scribbling was quick tidy) a two-foot essay on asphodel. Returning the book of potions to the shelf, she opened Poisonwood. A brief scan of the table of contents directed her to page one hundred twenty nine. On the page was directions to make the potion she most desperately needed: the potion to conceal her pregnancy. Carefully, she copied down the ingredients and procedure. She wasn't sure exactly how to obtain some of them… but she had to. It was a difficult potion to brew… but she had to. This was her only real option if she was going to lead a somewhat normal life for the next few months.
XxXxXxXxX
It occurred to her later in the day as she was walking back to her room. In fact, it was such a good idea; she rushed back up to the seventh floor corridor. After concentrating very heavily on what she needed, the door to the room of requirement appeared and Hermione stepped through it into a beautiful potions lab. The counter tops were all sleek white marble set on a beautiful carved mahogany base. Cabinets contained all the ingredients and supplies she needed and the procedure was written on a blackboard at the front of the lab. Adding 256 mL of water into the solid silver cauldron (since it could only be brewed in a silver cauldron), she got to work. She became so absorbed in her work, she didn't hear the door open and the person leaned against the wall for several minutes watching her.
"You know, you're out past curfew. It's eleven already," a drawling voice said.
Hermione turned her head slightly before looking back at the vines she was slicing. "I don't see how it's your concern, Malfoy. Last time I checked, you didn't care about what I did."
"I don't," he said unconvincingly.
Hermione shrugged, not really caring although confused at why he was even there. She decided to ask him. "Why are you here? Come to gloat?"
"No," he replied shortly, his arrogance coming back into his stance.
"Fine," she said, tipping the chopped vines in the cauldron and increasing the flame. She stirred the potion three times counterclockwise and five times clockwise. As it simmered, she got out the key ingredient: the invisible sprouts of the Bulgarian creeper vine. She carefully measured them out on the scale and began chopping the sprouts into pieces two inches long. Carefully, she tipped them into the cauldron as well. They were the last ingredients but the potion needed ten minutes to simmer and settle into the blue cream it was to become.
Her feet and back ached and as soon as she thought about them, a black recliner appeared. Immediately, she sank into it and removed her shoes. Malfoy just studied her.
"I don't understand why you insist on keeping this child," he said.
She just looked at him, as if demanding an explanation.
"Maybe I feel responsible for what Blaise did," he said quietly.
"Well, you can give that up right now," Hermione replied. "I don't want you to care because of him. I don't need pity."
"Pity isn't the word I'd use Granger," he said.
She snorted. "Right." Absentmindedly, she ran her hands over her stomach. It was hard to believe there was a baby growing inside her. It made her feel so small. She'd always assumed that she'd be a lot older and married when she had a child. Plans changed though.
XxXxXxXxX
I give you all permission to kill me for taking so long.
