AN: I'm really sorry for not posting in a while! I've been majorly distracted by real life, so this has only been typed out recently, but I do plan on continuing with it, so hopefully my readers are still continuing on this with fanfic.
Just as a side note, I'm no longer doing song suggestions, as they just weren't working, but feel free to suggest your own in the comments.
Read and Review Please!
Chapter Thirty One: Impossible Potion.
"Granger?" Draco whispered, slipping into the dark infirmary. It was nearly dawn, yet he had yet to sleep. For hours, he'd sat in the boys' dormitory, contemplating this moment. Considering the necessary, precise last steps to the potion that would begin Granger's journey back to walking. He had to complete it just so, or risk all his work going to waste and killing Granger in the process.
The infirmary was near silent, Hermione's soft breaths quietly breaking the silence. Watching the sleeping Witch, he smiled. She looked peaceful, almost relaxed. A rare state in her condition.
Her unruly curls were a riot, haloing her pale features. He knew when he wasn't in the Infirmary Mrs Weasley would help Granger wash, but no one had yet to tackle her signature curls. Despite the petite coils amassing to create an ever growing frizz, the need to properly rinse the building grease was clear in the damp strands. Yet no one wished to move her to wash her hair, other than to rub a damp cloth over the exposed hair as a temporary measure, fearing they may cause her further pain by moving her.
He scorned the Order for treating Granger like an invalid. He knew she was stronger than she looked, capable of handling more than they thought. They only saw her slumped figure and assumed she was fragile, but he knew she could do more than that. And he was going to resolve that for her.
Shaking his head, and noting he should resolve her hair situation later, he forced himself to focus on the task he needed to fulfil. He had to time this perfectly. Checking his watch, he unpacked the box he'd hidden at the back of the supply cupboard. The potion had to be left to set in complete darkness for twenty four hours prior to this last step.
Taking the three inch vial from the box, he studied the potion carefully. Within it's dark depths, blacker shades swirling and curling in strands. But despite the fluid shades circulating in the vial, the potion was solidified. It was like a block of ice, the vial crystallised and almost cracking under the pressure of the potion, yet it felt like an open flame in his bare hand. Tightening his grip on it, Draco held it over a bare candlelight, his other hand poised with the last ingredient above it.
The second vial he held contained a very rare substance; the blood of a dragon crossbreed. Dragon blood in its pure form was in itself expensive and rare to obtain, unless you knew the right markets to frequent. However, crossbred blood was a potion ingredient so rare most would have you believe it was impossible to create. Yet, most pureblood families poured countless galleons into the forced mating of various breeds of dragons, after which they would attempt to drain the blood from both parent dragons and their offspring for the duration of their lives. A feat so difficult that it was exceptional to gain more than a handful of vials before the dragons killed the perpetrator, purposefully destroying the vials along with the Wizard/Witch, or the dragons killed themselves in protest to the practice. The dragon blood would then be gifted to all members of the family, as the blood was considered protective. This practice was outlawed years ago, yet many pureblood families continued to keep the dragon blood, passing it down through the generations.
As the Malfoy family's sole heir, Draco was in possession of several vials of various pure dragon blood, kept in his highly guarded vault at Gringotts. However, he kept on vial on his person at all times. The only vial of crossbred blood of a Hungarian Horntail and Peruvian Vipertooth in existence was kept chained around his neck at all times, hidden by invisibility charms and all manner of protective spells. Draco knew how precious the few millilitres of crossbred dragon's blood were, yet he knew he had to use one drop to complete the potion.
The restorative potion called for two drops of blood from two separate rare creatures. He only knew of two sources of rare blood he could access; his dragon blood and the blood of one of the residence of this safe house, and it had to be added to the potion at the precise moment the full moon set and the sun rose. Malfoy remained poised, potion vial barely shaking in his hands. This was his one chance to save Granger.
Most people died within hours of being cursed. The curse was used primarily in the medieval times to create a torturous death for prisoners and traitors, the spell would solidify the body so it could be displayed like a statue, slowly decaying as a reminder for those who disobeyed. A cure wasn't perfected until two centuries after the curse was outlawed, during the Illegal Experimentations of Spells during the eighteen fifties. It was a hard cure to perfect, but Draco was sure he could; Snape had been training him for too long for him to believe he could botch this potion.
As the candle continued to flicker, gently warming the potion to become a semiliquid once more, the infirmary door eased open and a silhouette in the darkness entered. Draco merely glanced at the individual, before focussing on the potion once more. He had to ensure the potion did not totally liquefy yet.
A pocket watch-like object was placed on the table between Draco and the Newcomer, and it was popped open. It displayed a simple dial, showing the balancing between the moon and sun above their hideaway. As Malfoy watched, the Newcomer used a small blade to split the skin on one finger, a drop of blood glistening in the candlelight.
Keeping one eye on the dial and the other on the potion, Draco tipped a drop of dragon's blood into the vial, as the flesh blood was added too. As soon as the two drops of blood splashed into the potion Draco kept a firm grip on the vial, as he fumbled to reseal his vial and hide it once more. Gritting his teeth against the pain of the holding the vial as it blistered the skin on his hand, he nodded his thanks as the Newcomer left once more. The agony in his hand was unbearable and Draco fought his instincts to drop the offending vial, but he stubbornly held on and counted the endless seconds.
Finally, the vial ceased to burn and he relaxed. Taking several calming breaths, Draco switched the potion into his other hand, inspecting the damage. Angry, red blisters assaulted his pale skin, but he couldn't find the will to care about his own injuries, as he allowed the candlelight to dance off the vial's reflective surface. Pride filled his chest and he smirked, never could he be questioned as not having the potion skills of a master, finally bettering Granger in an ironic feat.