A/N: According to some publishing sources, short stories are "anything you can read in one sitting" (which for me is an entire book of 500-1000 pages b/c I'm MENTAL) or "under 30000 words". Uhhh… I'm going to TRY for something actually short? Maybe.
Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose Muahahahaha I'm publishing unsupervised! Doh! Busted again! _ The Dragon and the Rose
Marriage Buh-law
"Short" Story, I swear! By Corvus Draconis
Chains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads, hundreds of tiny threads, which sew people together through the years.
Simone Signoret
"Are you mental? Do you think I'd just roll over and agree to marry you because we shared one kiss at the end of the war and you try to 'seal the deal' by bringing me a ruddy box of half-eaten chocolates with all the frogs taken out and a ring from the Dumbledore's Army mini-Horcrux collection?!" Hermione shrieked, her hair rising like the serpent tresses of Medusa.
No, wait.
Hermione patted the top of her head and realised that her hair had literally become a head of snakes.
"FRED! GEORGE!" she roared as the maniacal giggles of two grown "boys" escaped out the back door to the orchards. Her head full of snakes hissed their annoyance at the fleeing boys before settling around her head, tongues flicking lazily.
That is seriously the last time I let them gift me anything. ANYTHING!
Ron was staring at her, petrified with horror as her head-snakes glared menacingly at him.
"What, Ronald?" Hermione hissed at him.
"Your hair is… hissing at me."
Hermione huffed. "Blame your idiot brothers. How they managed to survive the war is beyond me."
Ronald reached for one of the chocolates in the box and screamed as it enlarged into a chocolate-colored spider with garnet eyes and a carnelian hourglass on its back.
"Oh hai!" it said cheerily.
Ronald shrieked and smashed one of his mother's cooking pans down on the table. sending smashed chocolates flying everywhere.
The spider let out a sad, wheezing death-rattle as Ron ran screaming out the door.
Hermione slumped, her newfound head-snakes tongue-flicking as they poked the flattened arachnid with their noses. The chocolate arachnid made sort of hissing sound as its body expanded back into shape and then filled out with a sharp POP!
The spider blinked, wobbling. "That hurt."
"Being brained with a cast-iron frying pad would probably hurt, yes," Hermione answered, not even questioning a talking arachnid that could blink, and talk, and well… talk.
"Are you going to brain me with cookware too?" the spider asked a bit warily.
"I find I'm a bit tired for that today. Ask me again tomorrow, and I might have it in me."
"Oh," the spider said, seeming to contemplate this a while. "I'd appreciate cuddles instead. I'm far less cranky with cuddles."
"Story of my life," Hermione said. "Pity I don't get those without the expectations of sexual intercourse."
"My cuddles really are free with no expectations of sexual intercourse," the spider assured her.
Hermione held out her hand and the spider crawled onto her palm. "I suppose I wouldn't object to a good cuddle," she said with a small smile, pulling the quaffle-sized fluffy arachnid to her face and cuddling it.
The spider let out a feline purr and a contented sigh. "Much better than being brained by cast-iron cookware. My name is Gaspar."
"Hermione."
"Hallo then, Hermione."
Hermione's head-snakes "tasted' the spider's fur and seemed to hiss at each other in speculation.
"So, why are you mad?" the spider asked.
Hermione lay her chin on the table of the Weasley kitchen. "The Ministry wants us all to get married."
"Well, marriage is good right? Spiders don't really do that. We just hook up and have many, many babies, and if we're lucky, our mate doesn't eat us or our babies don't eat us."
"That… sounds pretty horrifying," Hermione admitted. "Marriage can be good, but this is forced marriage. A… buh. It's a bloody law."
The spider seemed to consider this, its front leg twitching in a steady cadence.
"Not to sound ungrateful for the conversation, but," Hermione said. "I've never talked to a spider before. Well, at least had a proper conversation that was more than one-sided."
The arachnid bounced on all eight legs. "I'm a quaffle spider. Wizards used to use us as balls for their air games. We were resilient and liked people. Most people, anyway."
"Oh," Hermione said. "I guess I haven't read much about Quidditch to be honest."
"They stopped using us when some guy tried to rip off the legs of one of us to make us more 'streamlined' and got bit. Guy fell out of the sky and broke his legs." The spider rubbed its abdomen with its back legs. "No more air games for us."
"So, who are you going to marry?" the spider asked.
"That's the trouble. I don't know yet."
"Don't have someone you fancy?"
Hermione let out a dry laugh as she stood up, summoning her robes with one hand and throwing them over her shoulders. "Yes, but he'd rather die all over again than choose to marry the likes of me." Hermione huffed, and her head-snakes yawned, all mouth and fang.
"You should probably get some sleep, you look awfully tired," the spider said kindly.
She pulled her hood over her head and the snakes peeked out curiously, dickering for the best spot to look out. She sighed and turned, walking out the open front door that Ron had so kindly taken off its hinges in his mad, terrified retreat.
The spider made a sad sound.
"Come on then," Hermione said, extending her arm.
The plush arachnid bounced into her arms and purred as she carried it with her.
"Crooks is going to want to chase you forever," Hermione said with no little amusement.
"That's okay, we're used to that sort of thing."
Hermione didn't even think to ask about the use of "we" over I as the crack of Disapparition carried her away just as Molly Weasley's outraged voice rang out, "What do you mean you turned Hermione's head into a bed of snakes?! Do you really think that's going to help either of you get a wife before the Ministry deadline?!"
Hermione got an utterly insufferable pile of owls the next day, including Molly who wanted her to come back to the Burrow and "Think about what's best for you" which Hermione boiled down from Molly-speak into "Think about which of my son's lives you can save by marrying him."
Charlie had owled her saying he was so glad that he was in Romania and thus not subject to the British Ministry as well as to thank her for the beautiful and thoughtful gift of the proprietary dragon oil tonic she had made for itchy dragon skin for him and his husband of ten years.
Happily married, thank you very much.
The rest of the Weasley clan, sans Bill and Fleur who were outcasts in their own family due to his choice to "marry that French Veela trollop."
It hadn't really mattered to the main core of Weasleys that they'd been so instrumental in saving lives during the war, either. Once the immediate relief of the war had been over and everyone had been made "heroes" it seemed they didn't really have any tolerance or respect for Fleur anymore.
Hermione suspected it was more about Bill and Fleur having gotten a full inheritance from one of their aunts and carefully investing it into Gringotts without spending more than they needed to fix up Shell Cottage and setting some aside for each of their children to have enough to cover their expenses when they went off to school. Whether it was the green-eyed monster or something else, Hermione wasn't really sure, but the rest of the Weasleys didn't seem to approve of the fact that nothing was coming their way as well.
It seemed rather odd to Hermione, but she figured it may be one of those Wizarding things that she never quite got being Muggleborn.
"Adept Granger," her boss chuckled from the other side of Hermione's pile of owls. "I see you got your first wave of eligible offers."
"Eligible, my arse," Hermione cursed. "Have you read these letters? They sound like something out of a Muggle dating service. All fancy words with the picture they stole out of magazine or a wallet insert and then they expect me to actually owl them back."
Amelia cut her way through the pile of "offers" with her hand and shoved them over so she could see Hermione. "We tried to fight it, love. You know that."
"I know, it's just— infuriating. Marriage law. BUH-law. Totally stupid! Idiotic! NNNGGGH!" Her head snakes, still with her, hissed their irritation in reflection of Hermione's inner thoughts.
"I see they haven't worn off," Amelia observed.
Hermione ran her hand through her snakes and sighed. "No, no they are quite taken with me or my head or— something."
"Those twins—" Amelia sighed and shook her head. "Geniuses when it comes to pranks but if I had a galleon for every person we've had to cure of the resultant unfortunate side-effects… And, of course, they are way too smart to not have a disclaimer contract signed and on file for all of their clients."
"I dunno, Amelia, sometimes I think when that burst of magic came from me instead of Harry, that somehow made something go wrong."
"Harry! No!"
A prism of light burst from Hermione's body as the scream of a phoenix gave a clarion call— outrage, justice— as Fawkes swirled up behind her in a burst of flames and landed on her shoulders, wings outstretched.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A nova of angry magical fire burst a path outward from Hermione's body. The wounded all rose up, even from what seemed like death, and every single Dark wizard and witch, every Snatcher, werewolf and even the lowliest minion of the Dark Lord instantly burst into flames, screaming their way into the Afterlife as charred, spirit hands and arms grabbed their flaming bodies and dragged them into the earth below.
When Harry and Ronald stared at her— Harry with such relief and Ron with such abject terror— that was when it had first started.
The fear.
The loathing.
The hero-worship.
She had ceased to be Hermione Granger, that unattractive little Muggleborn bint and shameless breaker of hearts. She had become the personification of Death.
"You saved us, Hermione, and like most of those who save so many people, much like Harry, it leaves a mark on you that people either fear or love. Normal people cannot help but feel ordinary, and insecure people—"
Hermione shook her head. "Thanks, Amelia."
"Ron tried to propose, didn't he?" Amelia asked.
Hermione tapped the side of her nose. "Ten points to the DoM."
Amelia snorted. "How are the children?"
Hermione raised a brow. "Fawkes is pecking them into submission."
Madam Bones laughed. "He seems happy enough to do so. I heard you added to your growing collection of interesting creatures."
The chocolate-coloured Quaffle spider bounced up and down in greeting. "Hallo, Madam Bones!"
"Hello, Gaspar," she returned the greeting.
The spider bounced in response to his name before attacking a large moth that had gotten stuck in his web.
A man poked his head around the door. "Adept Granger? We seem to have a problem with Phineas."
"The painting or the wyvern?" Hermione asked dryly.
"The wyvern," he said with a sigh, running nervous hands through his curly mop of reddish-blond hair.
Amelia shooed Hermione off. "Go, take care of the mess."
Hermione gave her a polite smile and stood up, exiting with the harried-looking man.
"You let Ferb go flying off again without his best mate, didn't you, Max?" Hermione asked, giving him the eye.
The young wizard slumped. "Yes, Adept Granger."
"You're pretty soft on Ferb, Max, I know that, but there is a reason why we have to make sure to let them out together and why it takes more than one person to keep them in line."
"But Ferb is just a gargoyle, and Phineas is a bloody wyvern!" the young wizard protested.
"That's the whole problem in a nutshell, Max," Hermione sighed. "You can't treat them like human beings, who seem preprogrammed to segregate in one form or another. They form bonds just as we do, create friendships. You know how goats befriends horses?
Max nodded, flushing slightly. "I just— Ferb has much better manners than Phineas."
Hermione laughed. "Oh, Max. Sometimes even the most foul-tempered beast finds true friendship. It works for them. That's what really matters."
Max smiled. "Yes, Adept," he said, rushing off to fetch the harnesses.
Hermione didn't need the harnesses. She hadn't since the end of the war when Fawkes had come to her. She sometimes wondered if Dumbledore had harboured the gift too and that was why he let Hagrid bring in the most dangerous beasts without thinking it was a "very bad idea." If he had the gift— why did he apparently never ask the creatures to protect the children, just as she asked the ones in the DoM to do?
She never demanded. She asked.
She never enslaved. She always gave them options.
Just like real life, sometimes the options were the choice of two bad options, but they were still options. It was like in school. Behave in class or get detention— some things were simply more appealing.
As she closed her eyes, she sent out her awareness, finding the more alien thoughts of Phineas as he had his temper tantrum trying to find Ferb. She sent an image of Ferb waiting for him back home— their habitat and shared garden.
Phineas gave off an excited call and followed her images— the path back to home, back to Ferb. The great wyvern whooshed by her, diving through the tunnels to the gardens just as Max ran up with the harness.
The young wizard slumped. "I'm too late again."
Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "You'll get there, Max."
"Shortly before I die," Max whinged.
"Probably before I get married," Hermione said with a sigh.
"What happens when you don't?" Max asked, frowning.
"They force me to marry someone they chose for me," Hermione said grimly. "Or I can choose to enjoy Her Majesty's Pleasure instead."
"What?!" the young wizard looked horrified.
"Get back to your chores, Max."
Max nodded. He started to go and then turned back to her. "Adept?"
"Yes?"
"Do you have anyone in mind?"
Hermione sighed. "Having someone in mind is not the quite same as being feasible," she replied sadly.
When Hermione was called in to assist the Headmaster of Hogwarts with a "problem" Hermione had no idea what to think. She also didn't have any idea how she was going to walk in there and not want to run screaming. Ron had recently become the new flying instructor for Hogwarts when his attempt to be a Quidditch player fell through. Madam Hooch had decided that she wanted to see the world while she could— while she was still there for the journey, that is.
Harry had gone on to become an Auror, and he was damned good at it, but Neville had gone back to Hogwarts to teach Herbology— feeling the call to return to his beloved plants. Lavender was there as well, teaching Divination nowadays, and the very thought of her whispering over crystal balls like old Trelawney just made her want to vomit. Hagrid was still there too, but he never quite trusted her again after she had simultaneously resurrected and killed hundreds of people in one go.
Then there was the Headmaster himself.
The man who probably hated the very ground she walked on, just for being herself. He'd hated her ever since she was eleven, so it was no big effort to know what her having prevented him from getting a nice honourable death did for him.
So what if his voice haunted her dreams.
So what if his very eyebrow caused her feel shivers of, of— that!
Hermione knew that a Hebridean Black dragon attempting to build her nest on top of the castle was a very bad thing, no matter what Hagrid might have said about it.
"'Dem's lucky them is," the half-giant had told her. "It's better to have them around."
Oh, yes, Hagrid. And all those scratches and toothmarks and your total lack of facial hair was so indicative of Hebridean Black's great love of people.
As she stood in the Headmaster's office, she found it had exchanged the strange trip into an archaeologist's dream into something oddly practical. A comfortable set of chairs, used but not pampered tables. Deep green shades covered tasteful antique silver lamps, unlike the rather gaudy ones that she remembered from Dumbledore's age. Paintings of Hogwarts before, during, after the Wizarding wars took up the most wall space, with the middle one being Hogwarts after it had been fully restored. The Headmaster's portraits had survived the destruction of Hogwarts, and Dumbledore lay snoozing in his chair in his portrait.
The floors shook and walls rattled as a long breeding call came from above— the Hebridean Black calling for a mate— any mate, if they would be so kind to hear just how sexy his roar was. Surely they would oblige him with a proper lookover and perhaps even a draconic cuddle.
The portraits rattled and complained about the noise, irritated that the dragon was interrupting their rest, and of course it was almost the witching hour due to her recommendation that she did what she could at night when the fewest amount of children would be out and about the school.
Though, she wondered how anyone could be getting any sleep with the constant caterwauling of the male dragon trying to call inmates from anywhere and everywhere.
"Minerva, I do not care that the old fool gave Rubeus Hagrid a lifetime contract before he saw fit to throw himself off the Astronomy Tower," a baritone voice seethed. "He is endangering our students as ever before, and this time he brings in a bloody dragon. Not a little dragon, no. A full-grown Hebridean with enough testosterone to make all the teenage boys in this school wither in comparison. I don't even know how he brings these things in. I certainly don't sign for them! You don't sign for them? How is this even a THING? How can that insufferable man order a sodding dragon from Mulcahy and Pierce and no one even QUESTIONS that the thing was going to a SCHOOL, of all places?!"
"I don't know, Severus," Minerva's voice said as they stomped up the stairs together. "Maybe Albus wrote it into his contract."
"Oh GLORIOUS, so let's just try and dig that up out of all the rubble underneath the ruddy castle," Severus snarled. "The contract that says he can't be fired from the school for all his bravery and hard work to the school, my arse!"
Hermione's eyes widened. Some things didn't change, apparently. Severus Snape and his voice that could make both paint and toes curl (depending on who you were) was still very much alive and snarly as ever.
"So, I have to beg the sodding DoM to send their very best beast adept, some sodding imbecile probably doesn't even know the difference between Agrimony and Aconite, to come and sort out our problem. And said imbecile will surely be dead by morning. Then what?!"
Hermione sighed. Apparently no one had bothered to inform the headmaster that she was the one coming to Hogwarts. She had a mind to give Mr Hunnicutt a hefty piece of her mind the next time she was down in appointments. A very large, dragon-sized piece of her mind.
"Agrimony or Agrimonia, is a perennial of the Rosaceae family, most commonly with a series of flowers arranged in a long spite. Aconite, however, is also known as wolfsbane— something any student who paid any attention in your first year lessons would know, Headmaster Snape," Hermione said, not quite able to keep the frost out of her tone.
Snape had stopped dead in the door jamb, staring so intently at her that Minerva slammed face-first into his back with a startled meow.
"Miss— Granger?" his black eyes were strangely wide, almost comically. His face had drained of any colour he might have harboured previously.
"Hermione!" Minerva greeted her happily, pushing the headmaster out of the way so she could run up and give her a hug. "You're the Adept they sent us?"
Hermione gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry to disappoint."
"Disappoint? You terrible girl," Minerva tutted. "I only wish you'd visit us more often— though, perhaps, I can understand why, especially now that dreadful law was somehow passed."
"I would have thought you would already be buried in enthusiastic suitors, else Mr Weasley would be sweeping you off your feet to become the next Weasley matriarch," the headmaster muttered, much like he always had during Order of the Phoenix meetings. Somehow he had summoned a tea tray, and it was already poured and waiting.
"Ron did try when the law first came out," Hermione said with a twitch of her lips. "With a collector's ring from one of those Dumbledore's Army snack boxes and a half-eaten box of chocolate while still reeking of Lavender's namesake perfume."
Snape said nothing, and for a moment, she could have sworn she saw his knuckles whiten. "I am sorry, Miss Granger. I had thought— well, it doesn't matter what I though, but there are many who thought it was only a matter of time."
"I'm sure she's just as sick of the owls and ridiculous offers as you are, Severus," Minerva said, sipping her tea thoughtfully. "The googly-eyed hero-worship or the hate mail, sometimes even both at once."
"Somehow I rather doubt if Miss Granger has anywhere near the same amount of hate mail that a former Death Eater does," Severus remarked quietly.
"Don't count on it, Professor" Hermione said, her nose wrinkling. "I killed hundreds in one go in front of hundreds of terrified witnesses in the middle of broad daylight. Believe me— I do get quite a lot of hate mail. Many of them only assumed you killed hundreds. I… proved it."
"Is that why you went underground, my dear?" Minerva asked, frowning in concern.
"No, Minerva. I went underground because Amelia broke me out of Azkaban after Umbridge brought me up on charges for having had her 'raped' by centaurs— and after watching me obliterate an entire battlefield, many were inclined to believe her claims."
"That actually—" Minerva gasped. "Sweet Merlin, I thought that was nothing but a bunch of rubbish made up by Rita Skeeter to get her sales back up."
"How did Madam Bones manage to break you out?" Severus asked, his eyebrows lifting at once.
Hermione gave him a rather dark smile. "She stormed into the DoM without any authorisation or warning and walked straight into a hungry nest of Tasmanian flesh-eating corpse ants. They are super-efficient little buggers and I'm told her bones were a rather disturbing shade of pink."
Hermione sighed. "The charges against me were dropped when the Aurors went through her office and found detailed logs of her foul deeds from the time Voldemort came into power until the day she was, erm, eaten alive."
Minerva looked slightly green, but Severus' shoulders were quaking with a strange spasm just before he burst into deep bellows of baritone laughter, the sound of it waking the portraits and starting Hermione as a strange warmth went from toes to her brain with an almost audible "plink!" noise.
"That horrid toad-woman was a bloody menace," Severus said after regaining his composure. "And speaking of which, we have our own menace here at Hogwarts, by the name of Rubeus Hagrid. I'm sure you do not need a recap of how this is so?"
Hermione straightened her shoulders. She'd once believed Hagrid would never do anything intentionally bad, and part of her still wanted to believe it, but she knew now that Hagrid feared her after the end of the war— effectively moving him from friend status to untrustworthy former acquaintance.
"No, I am quite familiar," she said ruefully.
"This is his latest feat of extreme idiocy—" Severus said, massaging the bridge of his nose "He somehow managed to get Mulcahy and Pierce to not only send him a dragon but a fine, full-grown specimen to "guard" Hogwarts. Well, as we all know, well, at least those of us with functional brains, that when dragons do decide to guard something, that generally doesn't include protecting the students."
"There is apparently a bonding ritual that is normally done the moment it arrives, but someone managed to get it incinerated shortly after said dragon's arrival," Minerva added.
Hermione snorted softly into her teacup. "Why does this not surprise me?"
"Because you are not an imbecile," Snape said with a long exhale through his nose.
Hermione jolted at this, having never been given a compliment by Severus Snape in the history of… well, ever.
I see no difference.
Hermione frowned.
He loved my mum, Hermione. That's why he protected me all those years. Everything he did— it was because of her.
Harry had been so sure— and how could she, Muggleborn know-it-all annoyance and hand-waver extraordinaire ever compare to the likes of the beautiful Lily Evans?
No matter what her pathetic, whimpering heart wanted.
Stupid heart.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
But he doesn't seem to hate you, her heart whinged.
He's being politely professional as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, you pathetic, weak, insufferable muscle, her mind screamed at her heart.
She could practically feel her heart shrivelling inside her chest, trying to curl into a foetal position— impressive for a heart muscle if it weren't so terribly pathetic.
She realised he was staring at her now. Oh, shite. Did he ask me a question?
"It may still be possible for me to initiate the bond between you and the dragon," Hermione said, trying to recover herself from staring intently at Snape's lips and the smooth, unblemished line of his alabaster neck.
Snape and McGonagall's heads both went up with a start. "But I will have to ask him first."
"Ask… the dragon?"
Snape's face bore the question and even more questions. "And how in Hecate's handbasket do you intend to do THAT?"
Hermione smiled calmly. "Walk right up to him and ask nicely."
Hermione held the look of profound "You're a complete nutter" in her mind as she walked down the stairs of the headmaster's tower. She placed her hand on the old gargoyle, and it perked up as she did. She closed her eyes and pressed her head to its head, and it happily core-dumped all its memories into her mind in a few flashes of insight— ecstatic to finally have someone to talk to.
"Hello, Winchester," she said, scratching behind its ears.
The gargoyle rolled over for a belly rub, legs pumping with enthusiasm.
"Don't they groom you, pet?"
Winchester whined, thumping his head into her chest.
"Well, that won't do, now will it?" she said, pulling out a brush from her robes and brushing him down. His tongue lolled and lay on the ground as he enjoyed the blissful contact. He tried to return the favour, but it ended up giving Hermione hair that looked like Mrs Frankenstein from the movies.
Winchester looked at her adoringly, his stump of a tail wagging like mad.
She placed a kiss on his forehead and attempted to walk away, only he followed right behind her, abandoning his post in front of the Headmaster's stairwell.
Hermione walked him back. "Come on, now, you have to stay here, love."
He whimpered at her. Finally, she had given him the attention he had so craved for decades, and she wanted to walk away without him. She pointed to his spot and he lay down.
She walked away.
He got up and followed again.
She walked him back and walked away.
He followed again.
Hermione slumped and walked up the stairs again, gargoyle following.
"Minerva?"
"Yes, my dear?"
"Do you mind if I take the gargoyle for a walk?"
"Um, I rather doubt he'd ever choose to leave his post, but you can if you wish."
Hermione gave her a sheepish smile. "Thanks."
She walked down the stairs and down the hall to the outside, Winchester frolicking joyfully behind her and shoving his massive head under her hand for ear scritches.
The moment she went out in the courtyard, the dragon attacked, flaming her area so thoroughly that the ground around her burned even after his breath weapon stopped.
The dragon pulled back his head in surprise when he saw her standing there in the middle of his fire path with a rather weary expression on her face.
Dragons were more Charlie Weasley's domain, but he'd taught her quite a few handler's tricks to get in close in order for her to do what SHE did best, which was establish a rapport. That was something Charlie couldn't do without lots and lots of time. His strengths lay elsewhere.
The dragon swatted her, and his claws raked across her body only to screeeeech off the shield.
He breathed fire on her again.
Hermione stood her ground.
He tail-swatted her.
Winchester, tired of all these dragon shenanigans, belted out a long chain of furious gargoyle-ese and the dragon's head snapped back in clear surprise as green-tinted saliva dripped from his mouth.
Hermione sent him a strong image of two dragons facing each other off but not tearing each other to pieces.
The dragon sat down.
She sent him a image of herself touching his head, and he sent back a picture of people herding him into a cage with pain sticks.
She sent him an image of herself stroking his head.
He lowered his head, and she stroked his sensitive spots over his eyes and between them.
Loneliness.
Fear.
Loneliness.
She sent him images of children around him, willing giving him all the touches he could ever want, scratching all those itches he could never reach.
He looked at her with wonder in his enormous purple eyes.
If she would please, oh please, scratch behind his right ear?
Hermione scratched behind his ear. She pulled out a tin of balm and let him sniff it, sending him the image of her rubbing it on his scales.
He looked at her, ears flicking, and nudged her with his nose to continue.
Hebridean Blacks were huge dragons. It was going to take a while, but she couldn't do it with magic— the point was was to accustom the dragon to the person. Trust. It was all about trust— and unlike people, dragons ate the people who betrayed them.
It was going to take hours.
The great dragon rumbled, exposing its sensitive belly, and she knew she'd gained enough trust to continue. She rubbed the ointment all over the dragon's belly and body, even massaging it into his ear ridges and talons— those deadly claws that had tried to take her out only minutes before. She rubbed it into the pads of his feet, and all the time Winchester stood with the ointment pot on his head, still as a statue save for his tail wagging.
She knew that the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress had come down because both Winchester and the Hebridean Black growled lowly, not liking being interrupted.
Safe, she projected. Friend.
Winchester finally recognised them and relaxed, but the dragon was having a surge of protective fury.
Safe, she repeated. Friend.
You… my friend?
Yes.
They… your friend?
Yes.
The dragon considered this, steam coming from both nostrils.
Okay, he said, laying back down to allow her to continue slathering.
And that was that.
Within a few minutes, she had both Severus and Minerva rubbing salve all over the dragon, and he was growling and rumbling in obvious delight as they rubbed over his sensitive wing membranes and under his tail where the scales were finer and thinner.
By the time the hours had passed into dawn, the dragon was safely bonded to both the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress and highly conditioned to protect the school rather than fight it, having transferred its territorial instinct to guard the castle to guarding the castle and its people.
Well, and her as well, but she really didn't count herself—
Thankfully, Loch, or so he'd named himself, decided Winchester was an acceptable friend too, and the two formed a strong pairbond to help keep them from getting too lonely guarding an entire school or, in Winchester's case, a stairway.
Hermione amused herself by inventing new games for Winchester to occupy his boredom such as puzzle knots, chew toys, and padding the sides of the doorways with bristle brushes so he could rub himself into happy oblivion whenever he so chose. Loch amused himself by snatching up pumpkins from Hagrid's pumpkin patch and dropping them on the giant squid, then dodging them as the squid flung them back, attempting to shoot him out of the air.
He did learn to leave the Whomping Willow well alone, however.
Sometimes Winchester and Loch would play keep away with the pumpkins when the Headmaster was busy in his office and didn't require Winchester to be there all the time.
She had both Minerva and Severus doing a series of mental drills to make communication easier between themselves and the castle guardians, and before she knew it, a whole year had passed. Hogwarts no longer feared its dragon, the gargoyle was happy again, and the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress seemed to lose about twenty years worth of stress lines apiece.
It was shortly before she was to leave when the letter from the Ministry came. Hermione just stared at it for a long time before she let it fall onto the grass where it dropped. She closed her eyes, realising she had become so engrossed in helping Hogwarts with their problem that she'd neglected her forced choice: between marriage or Azkaban.
She walked, zombie-like to the edge of Black Lake, not even noticing one pale hand having picked up the letter.
"Hermione," Severus said, sitting next to her on the pier.
"Severus," she said, trying not to let the pain in her heart reach her throat.
"Is something troubling you?"
Hermione snorted. "Many things. Where to even start?"
"Start with the most obvious, perhaps, and work your way down?"
"Look at us," Hermione said. "Talking almost like normal people."
Severus snorted. In just a year's time, they had become almost comfortable as friends. "Do I need to ask with my professitorial voice?"
As his voice went into that velvet, venomous purr, Hermione shuddered. "Don't," she said, wincing. "Please."
He looked at her with concern. "I've hurt you."
"No, I've hurt me," Hermione said. "Dreaming of what will never be."
Severus frowned. He reached around her awkwardly, pulling her to himself, and she sobbed into his robes.
"I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot."
"You are not an idiot, Hermione," he said making slow circles on her back. "Far from it, in fact. What has you in such a fuss?"
"That stupid marriage law," she said. "I'm to report to the Ministry as soon as I leave here and accept my marriage to Marcus Flint. Or go to Azkaban. Since I'm not going to marry him, I guess it means Azkaban."
"There are no other options?"
"Plenty of options," Hermione said bitterly. "The only wizard I want would never want someone like me."
"So sure of that, are you?"
Hermione stared down at her lap and sighed. "Yes. I never even had a chance with him."
"You asked this fool for his hand then?"
Hermione frowned, hearing a strange note of anger in his voice. "No."
"What do you have to lose by asking, then?"
"He'll just laugh at me or try to let me down easily. That would almost be worse."
"Seeing as you can either ask him and quite possibly get a positive response or not ask and go to Azkaban, there doesn't seem to be much choice left," Severus said. "What happened to that Gryffindor courage that they so love to flaunt in the faces of those not-so-blessed with such a gift?"
"It's absolute rubbish," Hermione answered glumly. "You're the bravest man I've ever known, and you weren't even in Gryffindor."
Snape curled his lip in derision. "I was not brave. I am not that brave."
"Don't be so thick. You've done so much, stared two masters in the eye and lived. You spent all that time and then still had to teach us every day and keep us from blowing ourselves up."
"If I were a brave man, I would have done many things far earlier or not at all. If I were truly brave, I wouldn't be here thinking the Dark Lord resurrected and putting me to Crucio would be less conflicted than what I'm going through right now."
Hermione blinked. "Are you— oh gods. You have to get married too. Did you get paired with someone truly dreadful? Did you… Severus, I am so sorry. I've been so stupid. I've been thinking about me and me and — I'm such an idiot!"
"Sshhhhevhrusssss!" Trelawney's nasally whine of a voice cried as she ran down the pathway. "My love! We are to be married at last! As I had foreseen!" She held a scroll in her hands, waving it as she ran.
"Forgive me," Severus said.
"Whatever for… MMMPH!"
Severus' mouth covered hers in a heated kiss, his tongue darting to tease her mouth, and she gave out a low groan of pure need as she welcomed him inside.
Thump.
He had her laid down on the soft grass as his robes covered them both in a drape of warm wool.
His mouth tore away onto to reattach to her neck, and Hermione cried out in bliss as it sent thousands of excited nerves firing all the way down to her toes. Her hands moved down his back, frustrated by his woolen armour and so many buttons.
"Nooo!" Sybill cried, shrieking as she ran even faster. "You stop seducing my Severus right now, you… you shameless hussy!"
Severus, his mouth attached to Hermione's neck, looked up at Sybill, and his eyes glowed, pupils changing into the slitted, purple reptilian gaze of the dragon.
Loch landed right behind them, his wings spread as he pulled back his head and—-
FWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHMMMM!
The dragon's fire rained down on the couple, charring the ground into flames.
"Nooooooooooooo!" Sybill cried out, completely despondent. She snatched out her wand and was casting spells to pour great gouts of water on the fire, only the fire would not go out. It continued to burn in a pyre of bright blue and purple flames. She fell to her knees, wailing hysterically and tearing out her hair.
But as she stared through those thick, thick glasses, the flames seemed to die down as a hot blast of magic blew outwards.
Shapes moved in the smoke and fire.
A shapely alabaster arse moved over honey-coloured skin as a spill of long black hair merged with chocolate brown curls.
A letter floated in the air and formed into a mouth.
"Congratulations on sealing your magical marriage in the most traditional and true dragonfire bond, Mr Severus Tobias Snape and Mrs Hermione Jean Snape!", it trumpeted at a near-Howler volume.
"You have one year from this date to produce a child. Should you happen to miscarry, the timer will be reset after a required healer visit to ensure your good health. All health care during your valuable pregnancy will be free of all cost. Thank you for doing your part to ensure that our magical world remains quite magical!"
Two golden rings flew onto their fingers— the only thing either of them were wearing as the dragon let out a fierce roar before its great head moved back over them, protecting them from sight.
Sybill simpered and whimpered piteously, sobbing as she stared down at her precious scroll. Her eyes widened as the name on the scroll rearranged before her eyes from Severus Tobias Snape to Marcus Vitellius Flint.
"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" Sybill sobbed as she tried to throw herself into the lake and drown herself only to have the squid hold her back and use one long tentacle to shove her through one of the open Hogwarts windows before slamming the shutter firmly closed behind her.
High above Hogwarts, Fawkes perched on the ramparts and sang a beautiful warble, filling the remaining hearts with joy with a chaser of sadistic amusement.
Time Passes…
Severus leaned into Hermione as they sat on the Hogwarts green on a Slytherin green blanket. Their twin children, Valen and Violet played pony with Winchester before standing on the gargoyles' backs to oil the latest batch of Hebridean Black dragonets that were begging to be oiled and petted as Loch and his black pearl-looking mate curved their necks around each other and watched contentedly. Loch and his mate used their tails to make a circle around the wayward dragonets to keep them from escaping to cause mischief, and the gargoyle pups frolicked in the grass as they enjoyed time off from helping their mum and dad guard the stairway.
"How are you feeling today?" Severus purred into his wife's ear, and her magic flared with her arousal. She shuddered and gave him a dirty look that clearly said "Don't start what you can't finish, husband."
"Quite well, thank you," Hermione answered, trying to keep a straight face. Her nimble fingers worked off just some of his buttons to return the favour.
Severus shuddered, stifling a primal growl as their magic flared together and merged, making the the other seem even more irresistible.
"Minx!" he hissed pressing his face into her hair to hide his arousal.
"You started it," Hermione said.
"Are you so eager to repopulate the Wizarding world with our genetics?"
Hermione breathed huskily into his ear. "Yesssss."
Severus forced his libido under control. "Tonight, after the children go visit their grandparents, temptress."
Hermione licked her lips suggestively. "I suppose."
Severus narrowed his eyes at her but then very chastely placed a kiss on her lips.
"Eww, daddy and mummy are kissing again," the children chimed. "Save us, gargoyles!" they cried.
The adult gargoyles didn't move, but the pups all growled and snarled, making it look like they were big and strong but then got really confused when they didn't know what they were supposed to be defending the children from.
Severus took Hermione's hand and wove his fingers together with hers. "I love you," he whispered into her hair.
Hermione smiled up at him, the images of the dragons entwined around their playful dragonets, the gargoyles with their romping pups, and themselves cuddled next to each other as the watched all three families joined under Hogwarts and the love they shared together.
Piff!
Gaspar popped in with a whorl of aether and landed, crawling between their heads to snuggle between them.
Piff! Piff! Plink!
Gaspar's eight-legged mate, Willow, and their growing family ported in after him, scurrying in to join him.
Hermione smiled at Severus, adding the spider family to the image of blessed completeness.
Everything was perfect.
Valen and Violet peered over their stack of suitcases, trunks, and pet carriers to watch the teeming horde of red-headed children surrounding a lanky. exhausted-looking wizard with unkempt ginger hair that was rapidly thinning in the middle.
"Rose! Laurel! Wisteria! Get your trunks over here!" a witch with long, dark blonde locks called impatiently. Other, smaller children tugged on her robes, fighting for their fair share of attention and getting their sticky, chocolate-covered little hands all over her things.
"That must be Ronald and Lavender Weasley's brood," a wide-eyed Valen whispered to his twin sister.
"Brood or— rampaging horde—" Violet whispered back, nodding sagely.
"Horde? Of ginger Mongols?"
Violet giggled.
"Violet! Valen! Come on!"
The twins turned to see two black-haired mops of familiarity. "James! Albus!" they cried rushing over meet them.
"Hey Valen. Violet."
"Hey Scorpius! You ready?"
"Born ready, mate," the blond boy said with a grin, squirming as his mother kissed his head. "Ew, mum. Staaap!"
Astoria Malfoy laughed, ruffling his hair as her son grabbed his trunk and ran for the train.
The children gave their parents their final hugs and kisses and ran to the train.
"Why do we have to take the train? We live at Hogwarts anyway!"
"It's tradition!"
"But we were already there!"
"TRADITION!"
"Fine…"
"It's FUN!" Violet laughed at her brother.
"Warm pumpkin pasties! Yes! Did you bring any money?"
"Why do I always have to bring the money?"
"Because you remember—"
"Shut it, I'm paying this time," Scorpius announced, shoveling the great pile of candy and treats into one car for them all to share.
As the train pulled away, Hermione put her head against Severus' shoulder and grinned, tears streaming down her face.
"You're such an emotional faucet, Hermione," Draco said with a haughty sniff.
"You're crying on the inside, Draco," she retorted.
"Malfoys do not cry."
"You sure about that?"
"No! You do not get to punch me here right in front of Merlin and everyone!"
Hermione chased Draco down the platform, laughing merrily.
Severus eyed Astoria and snorted in amusement.
Astoria smiled warmly at him. "The more things change, the more they stay the same, hrm?"
"Well, a few things have definitely gone towards the better."
Ronald Weasley let out a shocked cry as Harry's fist socked him squarely in the face.
"What the bloody hell was that for?!" Ron yelled.
"That's for asking Ginny if the sex was any good and if she wanted a ruddy gigolo for her birthday!" Harry roared. "Hermione was right about you, Ronald. You're one sick son of a three-legged Crup!"
Severus stroked his whiskerless chin and smiled darkly.
"So, Astoria, how would you feel about teaching flight instruction this year," he said on the sly. "It seems I'm going to fire someone when I get back to Hogwarts."
"Draco will be so jealous," Astoria said, a smile creeping across her face. "I accept."
"Slytherin," Hermione said, giving Astoria a fond kiss on the cheek before hugging her husband.
"Complaining, my wife?"
Hermione smiled at him. "Never." Then her smile turned wicked. "You know, someone needs to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts now since Professor Yokoburra accidentally turned herself into a Scottish hare the other day."
Severus sighed as if the very thought of who could teach it hurt him greatly. He snagged Harry by the collar as he was running by, repeatedly shooting stinging hexes at Ron's arse as he fled down the platform. "Potter."
"Sir?" Harry said automatically.
"Job offer. DADA. My office tomorrow morning at 8 am sharp. Ditch that high risk Auror job that sends you home or to Mungo's in the wee hours of the morning in varying amounts of pieces."
Harry's face went wide with a bright smile. "Yes, SIR!"
Severus dropped his collar and sniffed as Harry resumed chasing his ex-best mate around the platform.
"Ouch!"
"Harry!"
"DAMNIT!"
"OW!"
Hermione grinned. "I love you, Severus."
"I seem to love you too."
"Just for now?"
"Just for always."
Hermione grinned. "I can certainly live with that."
Fin.
Gaspar: Horray! Another story!
Winchester: whuuuffff *Snuffle* (picks up spider in his mouth)
Gaspar: Eee!
Loch picks up Winchester in his mouth.
Winchester squirms and whines.
Fawkes picks them all up as they chase Hagrid all the way back to his hut, dropping pumpkins on his head, to keep him out of trouble… again.
Argus watches from a safe distance, his hand absently petting an elderly Mrs Norris, who is purring atop one of the gargoyle pups. "Well, never thought I'd see that! Let's go get our dinner, shall we, lass?."
And they lived happily ever after. (well most of them)
A/N: I have no excuse for this story. It just happened. Wait! I can blame it on reading one of IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse's marriage fics. Yes. I'll do that. Muahahahaha. (cough). Please praise and love upon the long-suffering The Dragon and the Rose for staying up past her expiry date to beta this fic by giving her rave reviews. (well, you can give me reviews too because I love them as always.) Ahha. :D