This is likely a somewhat subtle twist with hints of the old Marriage Law as a backdrop. Mainly I'm using it as a plot bunny to get Severus a new girlfriend. Maybe if he had one he wouldn't be so disagreeable.
Completely AU - post war - no dead twin - I think I'll even let Sirius be alive just because he's such a nice character to play with.
Enjoy.
Hermione did not smile, though it was her wedding day. Gregory Goyle was smiling enough for both of them. Well, leering if the truth were to be told. He had gotten his petition in first, and since all the Weasley boys had already been wed to others and Harry wed to Ginny, there was no one she trusted to challenge him.
She could practically hear Goyle's filthy, disgusting fantasies as the minister presided over their vows. It wasn't needful that she speak her agreement. The new law ensured that she had no choice to but to become Mrs. Gregory Goyle.
She shivered, but it was only partly from the sorrow and disgust she felt. The rest of it was because the pleasant late spring day of their outdoor wedding had turned suddenly chill. Served the Goyles right if the elaborate party they had come up with was turned to rubbish because of an unexpected turn in the weather.
The minister filled the wedding cup, casting a charm over the wine that was meant to ensure fertility and a long, happy marriage. What a laugh. Goyle took it up and drink from the cup, his piggish eyes glittering at her over the cup's silver rim. He swallowed and wiped errant drops of wine from his mouth with the sleeve of his dress robes before shoving it in her direction.
The wind blew with increased ferocity as she reached for the cup. The sky above her was darkening but she barely noticed as she was distracted when the wind sent a gust so strong that it knocked the aged minister onto his plump arse, tore down the pavilion sheltering them and ripped the chalice from her hand, splashing the charmed wine onto the green grass.
"Dammit, Granger!" Goyle's face twisted into a snarl. "You'll not ruin this! You're mine by law!"
Hermione blinked at the stained grass then looked up and blinked at Goyle. His face was purpling in anger and she thought he was reaching to throttle her when there was a loud crack of sound from directly above them. She felt herself flung back by a flash of light, the breath knocked from her lungs as she landed. She heard nothing but a ringing in her ears as she tried to draw breath into her lungs again. She was barely aware of someone trying to help her up into a seated position but once she got upright she saw Goyle's rotund, trollish mum sprawled over his unmoving form.
Gregory Goyle had been struck dead.
The Ministry cleared her of any wrongdoing. After all, everyone had been there. There had been no way she could have called up that storm or called down that lightning bolt to slay her bridegroom. It was a horrible stroke of misfortune, for Hermione's wedding day to have been ruined in such a tragic fashion.
Besides, the other Purebloods gave her a whole two days to grieve before another petition was filed. This time Theodore Knott thought that he would claim the Greatest Witch of the Age for his own.
Knott was less of a gentleman than Goyle. No, seriously, compared to Knott, Goyle was an angel. Gregory Goyle had been content until their wedding night to touch her. Knott believed that their betrothal gave him the right to manhandle her whenever the urge struck him. He wasn't sanctioned to go so far as rape, so he held short of that, but he had no qualms about shoving her against any nearby wall to stick his tongue down her throat or to tell her what fine plans he had in store for their wedding night.
Hermione would have never imagined she would miss Goyle and how he kept a cold, aloof distance from her.
They had been touring the Helga Hufflepuff Menagerie, some public affairs requirement the current Minister had insisted she be present for. It had only been five days before her wedding to Knott was to take place. She had managed to slip away from him to get a breath of air not tainted by his presence and was on the other side of the property when the thestrals had broken free of their enclosure and had torn her fiancé apart.
The Ministry had checked her wand but found no spells which could explain it. They checked the thestrals and their enclosure for tampering and found nothing. In spite of the screeching and demands of Livonia Knott, there was no proof that Hermione Granger had murdered her son.
This time it was a good three months before another petition was filed.
Adrian Pucey this time, against the vehement advice of his close friends and family. Perhaps he thought himself safe. He had taken advantage of the new law already and his Muggleborn wife had, tragically, died during their honeymoon. Perhaps he thought he could do in Hermione before she had a chance to do in him.
He wasn't as grabby as Knott. He kept his harassment somewhat more subtle. A smoldering gaze. Licking his lips when she caught him looking at her direction. Running his eyes over her, clearly imagining what she looked like unclothed. Those eyes alone made her feel unclean, perhaps because she knew they were out of cruelty rather than from any true affection. Goyle may have been happy to have her as his bride because it was likely the only way he'd every have sex. Knott may have been open about his lusts and his plans to keep her pressed to the mattress whenever the chance presented itself (and very vocal about how often he intended to keep her pregnant), but Pucey scared the hell out of her.
So she wasn't at all upset when he choked to death. On a chicken bone no less. I mean, seriously, what fool adult male manages to choke on a chicken bone?
Again, they could not prove it was Hermione. Because it wasn't Hermione. It was never Hermione. The Puceys had insisted on bringing in their own expert and what he had determined shocked them all.
"I'm… what?"
"Cursed, Miss Granger. Someone has levied a rather powerful curse on you. One that specifically targets any man intended to do you harm in a… uhm… sexual fashion… or intends to make you do something against your will that would lead to such harm."
She blinked. "As in, being forced into a marriage I do not want and thus being forced to allow myself to be pawed and groped by a man who disgusts me. That sort of thing?"
She heard Mrs. Pucey's sharp intake of breath. The 'expert' gave an uncomfortable cough before answering. "Yes, that is precisely the sort of thing. Do you know anyone who may have levied such a curse? Your friends from the war, perhaps?"
Hermione glared at him. "You think one of my friends would curse me?"
"Only out of a misguided sense to protect you, of course. That does seem to be the purpose of it."
"What you are describing sounds like Dark Magic to me, Sir. I assure you, none of my crowd would sink so low as to tamper with such a thing."
"Of course. I mean no offense." He was acting rather skittish. It took only a second for her to puzzle out way. He wasn't entirely sure he was certain how the curse worked, and thus was afraid he might become a target of it. "I shall have to report this to the Ministry, of course. They will need to know that an exception should be made in your case regarding the laws." He swallowed. "There will likely be an inquiry."
"I'm certain that there will be." She drew in a breath. "Now, if you will all excuse me, it has been a very trying year. I thank you, Sir, for bringing this matter to my attention. It's good to finally understand what's going on." The wizard bowed. She saw the Puceys rise in her peripheral vision. The trio left, allowing her peace at last.
Hermione waited until she was alone to allow herself to start trembling. She'd wanted to fall apart the moment she had heard she was cursed, but had held it in for the sake of appearance. Now she let herself sink down into one of her cushioned chairs before the hearth.
Cursed. She was cursed. But by whom?
And had they done it to help or to harm?
"How many times are you going to check the same wands?"
"Until we discover who is behind this." The Auror was checking the Weasley Twins' wands for what had to be the fourth time. All of the Weasley's wands had been checked, as had the wands of their spouses. The Potters had been checked, as well as all the staff at Hogwarts and a good many of the Aurors who had been excluded from the investigation due to their past and present friendships with Miss Granger.
"None of us did this, Mate." George glared at the reedy looking wizard. "Why don't you go check some Death Eater wands?"
"There are no true Death Eaters left free, Mr. Weasley. Only those who were forced by blackmail or spell."
Fred gave a snort. "Right, Mate. No wonder the Ministry couldn't keep us safe. Gullible twits, the lot of you."
The Auror sputtered indignantly. "Now see here!"
"You see here!" George glared at the man. "If any of us had cast that curse then you would have found it in our wands the first go round. That you didn't means we didn't do it. We wouldn't curse Hermione, even if we knew how."
"Yeah," Fred agreed. "We would have just waited until after the wedding night and made her a widow, that way she'd inherit the bastard's money."
"What he said."
The Auror fell silent, his mouth gaping at the pair of them. Then, perhaps realizing they were right or figuring he'd be safer elsewhere, he handed their wands back to them and bade them good day.
Later that night what was left of the Order met at the Grangers' home. Hermione had moved in with her parents during the furor following her second fiancé's death. She'd remained there during her third engagement and had only gone back to her flat when she had to meet with her potential in-laws. Now she was there because there was still a part of her that wanted the comfort only her parents could give her during this time.
Molly and Arthur were there, alone with Remus and Dora. Shacklebolt, Ron, Harry and Sirius were present as well. To her surprise, McGonagall and Snape showed up just after desert.
Dora was shaking her head. "The Ministry has tested the wands of everyone they think may go to such extremes to protect you. They also have checked the wands of those who are the most vocal proponents against the new law, which is pretty much every halfblood or muggleborn witch in the United Kingdom. They can't find anyone who they can prove cast the curse."
"Maybe a potion someone slipped her?" Ron looked over to Snape. "Is there such a thing?"
"Not that I am aware, and the Ministry is wasting its time."
Hermione tilted her head curiously. "How so?"
"A curse of this nature would have to be cast by a blood relation. Your blood relation to be exact."
"That's not possible. I'm the only witch in my family."
"Not necessarily a witch, though a Muggle couldn't pull it off." Snape looked at Hermione's parents. "Are either of you aware of anything or anyone else in your families that might not be entirely human?" He paused, his eyes locking on the face of Helen Granger. Her face had gone deathly white. "Mrs. Granger?"
Hermione looked at her mother, shocked by the odd expression on her face. "Mum? What is it?"
Helen shook her head. "No, it's not possible. She wouldn't even be aware Hermione existed."
Everyone shared looks of confusion and awareness. Hermione frowned. "Mum, who wouldn't be aware I existed?"
Helen's eyes began to tear, her lip trembling. John grew alarmed, his arm going around his wife's shoulders. "Sweetheart, what is it?"
Helen shook her head, her eyes shutting tightly. "I can't tell you. It's… I can't say it." She began to sob, the sound pained and deep.
"Mum, what's wrong!" Hermione moved from her chair to the floor by her mother's side. She looked alarmed. "It's all right. You can tell us."
"I can't! I can't talk about it. It's… disgusting!" Her voice was teetering on becoming a wail.
Snape walked over to loom over the woman. "Mrs. Granger, someone has cursed your daughter and that curse is killing people. Granted, the three men killed so far likely had it coming, but this law is still in place and it won't take long before some fool decides to try his luck. You need to tell us what you suspect."
Helen took several short, tear-filled gasps, her eyes looking to her husband. 'I'm so sorry, John. I never wanted to tell you."
"Tell me what, Darling?"
"That… I had another child. Before Hermione. A daughter." The whole dining room fell silent. Hermione gaped at her mum. "It… was rape. But he… it… wasn't human."
Helen broke off, her breath coming in shallow gasps a bit longer until she managed to calm herself enough to speak again. "I… it was when I was married to Michael. Right out of college. You didn't know of this Hermione, because I don't talk about it. He… came home early one day. We'd been trying to have a baby and I thought nothing of it. The… the sex was incredible. Amazing. Then the door to the bedroom flung open and… Michael came in. The person on top of me had his face, his voice… but he wasn't Michael."
Hermione heard an 'oh dear' that sounded like Molly. She couldn't tear her gaze away from her mother. "Who was it?"
"Not who. 'What'. There was a priest not far on Michael's heels. He'd fought earlier with an incubus, but the creature slipped away. He'd wounded it and had been tracking it. The creature.. It needed to feed. To regain its energy. I apparently made a nice target; young, married and trying to conceive so sex wouldn't be a problem. It almost killed me. I had hardly any strength left in me by the time Michael and the priest showed up. It fled the scene and with me near death, the priest let it go to tend to me."
"And… you conceived."
Helen nodded. "I didn't know if the father was my husband or the demon. I carried to term and we brought the infant to be baptized. The holy water… it burned her. That's how we knew who her father was." Another sob ripped from her. "We told the priests to keep her. I couldn't bear to look at her, knowing where she came from. And Michael… it was the last straw for him. He was having enough trouble dealing with the rape; he had only held out hoping the baby was his. He left me after that. Was quite civil about it. Gave me half of all our funds and didn't challenge me for the house. Just… left."
Helen looked at her husband, her expression one of shame and sorrow. "I couldn't tell you. I was so ashamed. I felt… dirty. Like I was tainted somehow."
"You were."
Hermoine looked up at Snape. "Professor!"
Snape leveled a gaze at her. "She was tainted, Miss granger. We also now know how you came to be a witch of such great power and potential. It isn't often that the victim of an incubus survives, but if she does there is a taint that remains with her always. History has shown that future offspring of such a survivor are born magical. It doesn't make you any less of a witch and, indeed, there is a rather unpopular but possibly accurate theory that some of the more powerful pureblood lines were actually founded by such offspring."
John looked up at Snape, pulling his wife into his arms to comfort her as she cried. "You mean to say that Hermione's magic is because my wife was nearly killed by… some…" words failed him.
"Demon, Mr. Granger. And it also explains who would have the power to curse Hermione in such a fashion. Mrs. Granger obviously wasn't aware how to tap into the demon taint, but a half-demon could easily manage the curse."
Helen shook her head, sitting up. "But how could she? She wouldn't know about Hermione. She was only a few days old when we left her with the clergy."
"She would have been aware of you, Mrs. Granger." Helen's face blanched again. "The child would always be aware of you. She would have known when you remarried and she would have known when you had another child."
"So this would be her… acting out? Jealousy against Hermione?"
Snape frowned. "No. If she wanted to be malicious, she would have simply killed Miss Granger. A curse of this nature is meant to protect, not harm. And to protect aggressively; she doesn't care what happens to the men as long as her sister is not ill-treated."
It was a lot to take in. No one was certain what to say about it. It took a moment before Hermione managed to think of something. "So… what do we do about it?"
"Clearly, Miss Granger, we find your sister. She's the only one who can life the curse, if we can convince her to do so."
"And if she refuses?"
"In that case, Miss Granger, let's hope the Ministry remembers not to send any other would-be bride grooms your way."
