(𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑) 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

Chapter 8

Chapter 9: "Hope Springs Eternal"

(Crying Over) Spilt Potions

by Azhure

~~oo0oo~~

Chapter 8 - Hope Springs Eternal

...if it isn't one petulant Gryffindor, it's another!
...After all, I'm a known Death Eater...
...This potion here. The Fertilitatumas. You couldn't expect anyone to brew this. For starters, half the ingredients are illegal...
...I need to know. That night you and Potter... copulated... Did you do anything remotely resembling that ritual...
...you are as ignorant as your bloody lover sometimes...
... Your child is the product of a very dark and very ancient fertility potion...
...I've not been totally useless, sir. I've had some magic...
...Yesss, it would be most interesting if I ever discovered the truth, wouldn't it?
...You've been speaking in Parseltongue to our Lord, Draco.
...You know Draco, you are a brilliant actor. Consummate, as are all Malfoys. You nearly had usss all fooled.
...If I'm not wrong, then this child will have the powersss of both his parentsss, tenfold.
...Avada Kedavra!
...What do you want from my son? Isn't it enough you're going to make him your heir?
...You think it was a conscious decision? What would you know of love, My Lord. You can't choose who you love. And I love Harry. Always have. Whilst there's breath in my body, I'll still love him, and I'll love his son - our son. Even if you strike me down, I'll still love them both.
...You're an overemotional fool. Your acting skills are to be applauded, but in the end, the traitor is always discovered...

Harry woke with a start - sweat pouring from him. The bed linens were twisted around his robes. His scar throbbed fiercely in an erratic beat. He'd had a bad headache and been in a foul mood for the past few days - at least it was more foul than usual. As he glanced at the clock, he could see the numbers fuzzily through his throbbing eyeballs. He slowly realised it was still fairly early. No doubt dinner was still being served in the Great Hall. Harry had not bothered to join the rest of the school, and went to lie down for a rest, and to get rid of his headache.

Wincing in pain as he sat up, he buried his head in his hands. It had taken a few moments to realise the erratic beating was his own heart, gradually slowing as he returned to wakefulness from the vision. He felt a heavy stickiness against his hands - too thick for sweat. He flinched as he wiped his brow, and a ripple of pain tore through the puckered edges of his tender scar. A stray beam of the early evening moonlight crossed his bed, and he saw the blood on his hand.

It had indeed been a virulent vision. Vivid imagery came flooding back and Harry recoiled as he recalled Voldemort's vehemence. This vision was the worst he had experienced in the past few months. But even so, Harry had a hard time believing in its authenticity.

At first, the visions totally devastated Harry, particularly when they would usually feature a sneering and simpering Draco coveting the Dark Lord's company. After Harry had learned to live with the heartache, he would accept their intrusion into his life. Oft times he would report on some aspect of them to Professor Dumbledore, even if they weren't terribly informative about Voldemort's activities. It seemed he wasn't getting visions about those meetings, which Harry thought strange.

As the fog of pain began to clear, he could see that the vision played out like a well enacted script - carried out with the sole purpose of affecting the one wizard audience; or it was indeed the very surreal truth. Harry thought he knew his adversaries well enough to assume the former. But the longer he sat there, the harder the niggling feeling of doubt pushed at him. Snape can't be dead. I only ran into the git a few hours ago. Pissed him off too. Like that's anything new. Harry shook his head.