A/N: Onward! The Conclusion
Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, and Flyby Commander Shepard
Scales of Judgement
Chapter 2
Hermione woke to a cool breeze coming in from the upper chamber, the scent of clean water tickling her nose. A sinfully soft down duvet had been pulled over her, and a fluffy pillow had been christened by her drool. The nesting bowl was strangely comfortable, but it was incredibly huge, and when she tried to look over the bowl's edge, she realised it was a very long way down. Intricately-carved geometric steps led down from the nesting bowl, and Hermione carefully hoisted herself over the nest and onto the stairs. By the time she had made her way down to the actual cavern floor, she realised she could have just transformed and stepped out of the nest like a proper dragon.
What was a proper dragon anyway?
Hermione swallowed hard, pulling her outer robes tightly around her with some awkwardness. You've just spent the night flying around, hunting deer, and snuggling up to some strange new dragon you didn't even really know. That's not bizarre at all, Hermione.
Hermione's lip twitched. Not at all.
Didn't mum warn you about being careful in new relationships?
What relationships? Hermione growled to herself. It's not like anyone who was ever interested in me was allowed to remain so, thanks to the likes of Potter and Weasley. No, she was all too aware of just how poor her chances were with regard to ever establishing a real relationship. Eventually, every chance she ever had ended immediately when they found out about what a bloody freak she was.
Mudblood bitch.
Didn't even think there might have been more to a familiar bond than just buying the pretty kitty and taking him home.
You didn't even question there might have been something more to finding a true familiar.
You let Crookshanks DIE.
Everything they said was true. You are nothing but a freak. You are a busy-body know-it-all bint who knows nothing about how real magic works. If you had, you could have saved Crooks' life. You would've known that house-elves die without a bond to a magical family instead of trying to shove a bunch of socks and hats at them in some misguided attempt to "free" them.
And once this wizard gets to know the real you, he will run, not walk, away from you.
Hermione cringed, her fingers touching the flame-scorched cavern walls. "I'm such a bloody fool," Hermione whispered, pressing her forehead against the cold stone. "I'm but a few days into my dragon-form, and my stupid heart wants me to go pick out nesting material with him. She hung her head ashamedly.
Hermione squared her shoulders and gathered together all of her Gryffindor courage. She really should should thank him for his gracious hospitality. It was most kind of him to at least not run away screaming on the very night of her first real flight. The least she could do would be to offer him an honourable way out. He was obviously a trusted friend of the centaur, and she would never wish to bring shame upon them in any way, shape, or form.
Her hand drifted to the tome sitting on a stone pedestal, caressing the fine leather binding with her fingertips. He had so many wonderful things. The last thing he'd need in his life would be some dewy-eyed witch pawing wistfully at his collection of priceless artefacts.
She walked into the spanning cavern where the steaming hot spring sent curls of steam drifting upward towards the ceiling. She smiled, touching the bubbling water. "Wouldn't it be nice?" she asked Moron, who was rubbing up against her arm as she sat on the edge of the pools. "If I could find such a place?" She pet the purring Kneazle kit wistfully. "Find someone who doesn't mind that I'm a—lowly ignorant Mudblood. Like that will happen. Ever." Hermione gave Moron an affectionate scritch behind the ears and stood up just as a low baritone voice carried through the cavern.
"They seriously expect me to walk out of hiding like everything is okay? Sure, you won't care, will you, Severus? Help out some selfish little Gryffindor witch who never had a bit of sense to begin with? Help her out, will ya? Show 'er yer a better man. Well we know what she's really attracted to, yeah? Money. Power. Influence. Would probably be caressing my bloody artefacts while debating on who she could sell it to for the most profit!"
Hermione cringed as Severus' tirade continued. It didn't take too much to figure out just who he had to be talking about. Hermione had, fact, been "caressing his artefacts" just this morning.
"You can save her. Oh yeah, I can bloody save her—" The sound of several long gulps came shortly after and, following that, the crash of glass shattering against the cave wall. "Knowing my luck, saving her will end up cursing me. As if I didn't have enough shite to worry about. I gave up on trusting any Gryffindors in my seventh year when it almost got me killed by a bloody werewolf. Never again. I don't want anything to do with her!"
Hermione closed her eyes in pain, leaning on the nearby stalagmite as she slowly caught her breath. She looked around regretfully one last time as she took in her surroundings. "Guess this is goodbye, Moron," Hermione said, rubbing the Kneazle behind the ears.
The orange fuzzball grabbed her wrist, clinging to her arm like a furry little burr. "Mrowl!"
"I like you too," she said sadly. "But it's quite obvious that I've overstayed my welcome." She pulled out a bit of parchment from her robe along with a travel quill. Magic flared from her hand as she passed her quill over the parchment and neatly wrote her host a note.
Dear Thuban,
Thank you for graciously assisting me with my first real flight. I appreciate your tolerance of my unfortunate ignorance, and I sincerely apologise if I have given you any reason to regret extending your kind hospitality to me.
If there is everything you might wish from me in the future, you need only ask. I would appreciate any opportunity to express my thanks to you for making sure my first flight wasn't a complete disaster. Please do not hesitate to make any such request of me as I would be pleased to assist you with any of your future endeavors. As mutual allies to the Dark Forest Herd, it would be my honour to provide any small aid you might happen to require.
Most Gratefully Yours,
Hermione Jean Granger
Hermione rolled up the scroll, sealing it with a bit of warm red wax from the end of her wand. She took the master's signet ring from her finger and pressed it into the wax. Quietly, she placed the scroll by the small shrine beside the pool, wiping the trail of tears from her wet cheeks. Unheeded, one single droplet fell from her fingertips and dripped into the crystal water of the cavern.
"Goodbye, Moron," she told the Kneazle, kissing him on the forehead.
"Mew!" Moron protested.
"You're better off without me," Hermione said. "The last half-Kneazle I had, I killed with my own ignorance."
"Mew!"
Hermione closed her eyes and fled from the room, her robes whipping wildly behind her. She walked to the edge of the cavern corridor, standing in the blinding whiteness as the sun-filtered water rushed by with a deafening roar. She extended her fingertips into the water for a few moments and stepped off the edge, plummeting downward to the crashing water below.
Dark, sail-like wings spread wide as the dragon jenny flew off over the forest canopy, as silent as an owl in flight.
Bill wiped his brow as he snugly wrapped a charmed bandage around his fellow curse-breaker's arm. "It's no use. That trunk is locked with a personalised and specific type of blood magic. There is no way to get into it without either being the one it was meant to open for or—putting the right person's blood upon it. You're going to have to wait for Alastor to bring in someone who is much better at reading the intricate flows in Dark blood magic.
"You're supposed to be one of the best curse-breakers in Britain," James yelled. "How can you not—"
Bill held up his hand. "I know you want this out of your home ASAP, Mr Potter, but I'm telling you bad things could happen. Far worse than what already has. Look what spilling the wrong blood did so far, and it was purely accidental!" He jutted his chin at the attic wall that had been entirely blown out, exposing the entire third floor to the outside elements. "I'm telling you that the trunk is keyed to a specific person's blood, probably blood of someone Black knew was going to die to ensure it could never be used to break the spell. This is the kind of thing that used to be put on tombs of the great Pharaohs, to curse a family for generations for tampering with some rich guy's treasures or the body of his wife."
"Why can't you just let Harry and Ron come open it and remove it?" Lily demanded.
"Because they are seventeen," Auror Hatfield said, rubbing his temples. "The magic is keyed to open for the children of the Marauders. It's right there in the words etched on the trunk itself."
Seeker and Chasers
Justice sought
This trunk shall not open
When minor naught.
Only the children
Shall lead the way
And follow in our footsteps
That what we do today.
Moony howls,
And Prongs dashes in.
Wormtail nicks
And Padfoot seals within.
This is our legacy
True to form.
None but the young
Can learn within.
Only the blood of the hated
Shall quell therein.
But he whose blood can defuse this box
Shall be dead and gone before this locks.
Lily brooded. "Why can't you go and drag Black's sorry werewolf arse back here to fix this?"
"Oh, trusting him to get rid of a curse on our family after what he did?" James snorted rudely. "Not bloody likely."
"You could force him!"
"How?"
"Spells!"
"None that are legal!" James hissed. "Using spells that were considered off limits is what got us into this sodding mess in the first place. Sirius won't bloody care that I served time for being an illegal Animagus. He'll care that I didn't serve time with HIM, Lily. Like a proper mate."
"He needs to pay for what he did to our son! The Weasley boy! If they hadn't found this bloody thing, none of this would have happened!" Lily screeched.
"Lily, the only reason we even found it in the first place was because Harry and Ron told us it was up here. Even then, it was only because Bill here had tracers on it so we could see it. We couldn't have known!" James growled. "Don't you think I would have tried to take this thing out of here had I known?"
Lily went silent, fuming. Whether she believed her husband or not, however, remained to be seen.
A loud double crack resounded outside the Potter house, and Alastor Moody in his brown Auror robes strode toward the house with a grumpy look on his face. Behind him, however, was a dark-clad wizard with pale, sunless skin and long, lanky hair that framed his rather grim face. Two other Aurors Apparated in shortly after, flanking Alastor and his companion on their walk up.
As Alastor pushed his way into the door, James was suddenly right in the door. He thrust his wand into Severus' neck and snarled viciously. "Snivellus," he hissed. "I should have known you weren't actually dead. You're like a sodding cockroach."
"Potter," Severus growled through gritted teeth.
Alastor yanked James back by the collar. "I asked him here, you doaty dobber. So, unless you want my wand in your neck, Potter, I'd recommend you stand down before I shove yer thick head in the lavvy."
James blinked, flushed, and pulled his wand away from Severus' neck. "You were supposed to be dead," he said coolly.
"Not for a lack of effort on Black's part," Severus replied darkly, walking over the threshold.
James was turning bright red in the face, looking as though he were going to put down his wand and start an old-fashioned fistfight instead.
The two Aurors who had come in with Alastor knelt beside Bill and assisted him with the injured. Meanwhile, Alastor lead Severus up the stairs, paying no attention to anyone else. Severus walked by James and Lily without even turning his head, keeping his hands and jaw tightly clenched.
Silence descended from above, and the house. Then there was a sudden, loud creak and the sound of people moving, and James and Lily immediately rushed up the stairs to find out what was going on.
Severus stood up from the trunk, shaking his head at Alastor. "I cannot remove the trunk without bleeding upon it," he said grimly. "And that may prove to be rather ill-advised."
"I understand," Alastor said. "I'll talk to Amelia and see if she knows of a way to buffer a protective ward to prevent—"
SLAP!
Severus stood, perfectly still, as a trail of crimson blood trailed alongside his nose and down his face.
Lily stood to her full height, her face an ugly mask of absolute fury. "How dare you, Sev. How dare you allow me to think that you were dead all this time?"
Severus squared his jaw, closing his eyes as he wiped the spatter of blood from his face and away from his eyes.
Lily stared at the wide crimson smear on her hand—having inadvertently painted her hand with Severus' lifeblood.
"We were not on speaking terms at the time," Severus enunciated clearly through gritted teeth. "This you made quite abundantly clear."
"I thought you were dead!"
"You didn't attend the funeral," Severus clarified, his eyes narrowed slits of black. Only a small handful of people did—all of whom then learned that I was still alive and agreed to keep my secret."
Lily's face flushed with anger. "You let me think you were dead."
"How long do you imagine I would have lived once people found out that Headmaster Dumbledore turned a blind eye to Potter and his gang of miscreants and permitted them to use me as a guinea pig, Lily?" Severus asked coldly. "How long do you think it would have taken for him to frame me, to make me his Slytherin scapegoat for everything leading up to my almost-death? I fled to the only place I could go—to one of my worthless Slytherin friends: Lucius Malfoy. He smuggled me in to see Alastor and Amelia at the Ministry, and they and Minerva arranged to ensure my safety until the war was over. By the time it had concluded, I found that I liked being the man people believed to be dead. I sent out invitations once a year, every year on the anniversary of my "death". You. Never. Came."
"You were already dead!" Lily hissed furiously. "How was I supposed to know you were only using your supposed memorial day to relay secret messages!"
"Lily, leave the sorry tosser alone," James said, pulling her away.
"Don't you dare tell me what to do, James!"
"Get the hell out of my house," James yelled, staring up at Severus with nothing short of absolute hatred renewed. "You're upsetting my wife and I won't stand for it!" He moved up and gave Severus a hard shove with his shoulder, making it look as though he had just tried to push past him.
Severus glowered at James, took one final look at Lily, and walked back down the stairs.
"Don't you ever bring that ruddy git to my home ever again," James snarled at Moody.
"That 'ruddy git' is the only one who can dispel the curse on that bloody trunk, Potter," Moody growled back, "unless you would like to continue live with it in your home and have your kids live with it along with your unborn grandchildren and all others born of the Potter line!"
"Then why the hell is it still here?!" Lily screeched. "Why doesn't he just blee—" Lily stared down at her hand and grit her teeth. She stormed over to the trunk and slammed her hand down on it, wiping the blood from her earlier attack on Severus' face on the latch of the cursed trunk.
"You fucking Slytherin wanker," Sirius' amplified voice suddenly boomed throughout the attic room. "Think you're sooooo smart, don't you? But you're not. Somehow you thought you'd just waltz right up here and steal all of our secrets, but it's not going to work that way. I made this curse especially for you, Snivellus. Since I know that not even Lils can muster up enough love to even admit she's friends with you anymore. True love is just a big fucking lie. It's all about who you make pregnant, and we know that no witch is going to let your slimy cock anywhere near her. Enjoy the sleep of the dead, Snivellus. I'll leave you just conscious enough to realise that you will never experience true love's kiss. If you're lucky, someone will just kill you while you sleep. Sweet dreams, Snivelly."
The trunk suddenly burst open like a ripe watermelon, spewing random bits of parchment and sending a multitude of assorted objects flying through the room like shrapnel. Panicked yells were coming from the base of the stairs where Bill was kneeling down beside Severus' crumpled form—the latter having tumbled headlong down the steps at the very moment the trunk's curse was engaged.
"Ashford! Mathus! Get Snape to St Mungo's straightaway. Take him directly to the Auror wing! No one but the healers and this team is permitted to see him. GET MOVING!"
"Aye!"
"Yessir!"
Crack!
They promptly disappeared with an unconscious Severus in tow.
Moody stalked straight up to Lily and yanked her up off the floor by the scruff of her Muggle cashmere turtleneck. "You had better hope and pray that Severus Snape survives this, Lady Potter, or I will see your pitiful carcass rotting away in Azkaban for murder," he growled directly in her face. "And that's a bloody promise." He released her with a shove, making a disgusted sound, storming down the stairs and out before disappearing with a crack.
Lily sank to the floor in a trembling heap, pulling her knees up to her chin. "Harry's going to be okay, right? Harry is going to be fine. He'll be just fine, right? He'll be safe now."
James stared down the stairs to where Severus had crumpled and collapsed. He stared at the shattered remains of the cursed trunk that his ex-best mate had put there and that had subsequently corrupted his child. He stared at his wife rocking herself as she prayed for her son to be miraculously cured, for him to spontaneously stop being a malicious prankster blood bigot. And for the first time in his entire life, he had no idea how to feel or who to blame for it all other than himself.
Drama and Destruction in the House of Potter
Earlier this week, we informed you that Lady Potter was being tried for knowingly triggering Dark blood magic in an attempt to save her son from his sentence in a rehabilitation-detention centre, but it seems that the House of Potter has not lost their talent for cultivating drama.
Earlier this morning, it was discovered that Harry Potter, only son of Lady Lily Potter (née Evans) and Lord James Potter was recently married to Lady Ginevra Molly Potter (née Weasley) via a magically binding marriage bond consummated in full through a viable pregnancy.
Under normal circumstances, we at the Prophet would like offer our sincere congratulations, but many of us seem to have a problem deciding what is the best course of action to take in this case. With Harry Potter having been sentenced to a 15 year sentence in an intensive mind-healing programme at a Dutch rehabilitation centre, young Ginevra, who has not yet reached the age of majority, the fate of her unborn child seems to be hanging in the balance.
Lady Ginevra Potter seems to have become the latest victim of the notorious false contraceptive charm created by the infamous werewolf, Sirius Black, back when he himself was a student at Hogwarts.
While an uncomfortable topic to be sure, parents are being strongly encouraged to discuss the use of legitimate contraceptives by sexually-active young witches and wizards, lest they end up like the unfortunate Lady Potter—trapped in an inescapable magical marriage bond in which annulment or divorce is impossible. Reliable methods approved by the Ministry are: the contraceptive potion (C-Pep) and abstinence. Lesser known methods, such as Muggle rubbers (also called condoms), have also proven somewhat successful, but require frequent forays to a Muggle chemist shop to purchase the little wonders.
It seems that the new Lady Potter is not alone in her situation, as Mrs Lavender Weasley (née Brown) has also been listed on the list of newly-confirmed magical marriage bonds. Other couples have been registered, but their names have been suppressed due to their currently being underage.
As for Lady Lily Potter and her fate for dabbling in blood magic that, we are reliably informed, caused an unknown party to be seriously injured, we have yet to learn anything further. Rumour seems to suggest that the Wizengamot is waiting to learn the final fate of the unknown party before making their decision with regard to Lady Potter's sentence.
Severus knew, even as he heard Black's voice projecting through the Potter house, that he was fucked. He knew, without even looking, what Lily had done.
His blood unlocked the curse on the trunk. His blood unlocked the curse on him. He could hear them talking about him—hear them speculating who could come rescue him. True Love's Curse was the best way to guarantee something never being cured—even magicals married without true love. True love… was a lie.
He once believed in true love, until he had realised that Lily couldn't even forgive him for a slip of the tongue.
What really bothered him? He should have gone after Hermione the moment he read her letter. She had heard him ranting to himself, so unused to company that it didn't even occur to him that she could have heard him. She heard him ranting about Lily—another Gryffindor. She had thought it was herself he was spewing hatred for—his jenny. His wonderfully shy, gentle and affectionate jenny. What had he done?
Instead of answering the call of duty, where he was obviously not welcomed back with open arms—even by Lily—he should have chased after his jenny. Hermione.
Hermione.
Even if he had had a decent chance before at finding a piece of happiness, now what? He had already hurt her, and he wasn't even in a formal relationship yet. What a bloody piece of work he was.
And the truth was, even now in this godforsaken limbo trapped deep within his own body, he desperately missed his jenny—their one and only night together had sealed the fate of his heart. It had patched the emptiness that had hounded him for more than two decades.
Pain filled him as longing mixed with utter despair rushed through him like a rogue wave of agony.
She had desired him, accepted his touch, accepted his nest, and had even deposited a bit of herself in the heart of his lair—the rarest of all gifts—a tear.
Had she any idea what that meant amongst dragons?
Hell, he hadn't even known until the visceral reaction of his dragon to the imprint of the jenny on his lair hit him squarely in the gut. Conscious or not, Hermione had proclaimed her interest to be his jenny. His mate.
And instead of dropping everything to attend her, to reinforce his desire to be her drake, and be at her side, he had allowed himself to be swayed by old feelings for the one person who couldn't even find it within herself to go to his funeral.
Fool.
That's what you are, Severus. She may have misread your foolish ranting, but you were the one blurting them out for Merlin and everyone to hear. That was all you.
Severus would have pinched the bridge of his nose had he been able to move, but currently that was well beyond his capabilities. True love was his only salvation, and he had done mucked it up before it even had a chance.
Maybe this purgatory was where he truly belonged.
Hermione wasn't in a very good place. Her mind was going in one direction and her heart another. Sometimes they would pass each other in the dead of night and slap each other with a shed glove, challenging each other to a duel of honour. Yet, she was sitting in the waiting area outside the Wizengamot, hoping they would call on her in to give her testimony before her brain gave up the ghost, and her heart just gave up in general.
Her heart wanted to fly back to the forest and find her drake. Her mind told her she was an impossible, stupid dreamer. She'd heard what he thought of Gryffindor witches like her. How much more painfully clear did life have to be?
Then why did she feel so miserable and more alone now than she had been in all the years when she'd become used to it? Bother it all.
Suddenly, she noticed that a large, rather odd-looking beetle was skittering across the waiting bench, quickly making its way towards her, but Hermione wasn't in the mood to tolerate such things. She didn't have a convenient wiry horse-tail with which to shoo the bug away, but she did have certain other talents. She snorted lowly, sending a jet of superheated air toward the creature, scalding the air just enough to scramble the creature's senses and send it running directly towards—
Oh dear.
Hermione hoped that lady was okay with insects. The curly-haired older witch eyed the beetle with one raised eyebrow, lifted up her hand, and flicked it off herself with one swift motion. The beetle then went careening towards the other witch on the opposing bench, landing smack in the fiery-looking redheaded witch's face with an unnervingly loud buzz.
The sound of a shrill, ear-piercing scream resolved Hermione's idle curiosity as to what might happen next. The flaming redhead immediately pulled out her wand and conjured a cauldron of boiling, hot soapy water—the kind Hermione knew was standard for washing laundry—and frantically brushed the offending insect into the super-heated lemon-scented soapy water.
The screaming, however, didn't seem to end. Oddly, the redhead's mouth wasn't even open anymore but her bright green eyes were wide with shock as she stared down at the cauldron she had conjured.
Familiar green eyes.
Hermione, forgetting all about the screaming of the moment, pondered just where she had seen them before. Sadly, her thoughts remained stuck on scream, as a sopping wet, severely scalded, red-faced and screaming blonde kicked the cauldron away from herself and loomed.
"Get behind me, Lily," a wizard said, nudging the witch to the back as he confronted the sopping, scalded witch.
"Lord and Lady Potter!" a flustered-looking Ministry official said, running up to them. "What in Merlin's name is going on here?"
Aurors came rushing in from the side corridors.
"That witch!" Lily said, pointing her finger at the blonde. "She was a giant green beetle! She was crawling on my face! I thought she was a regular insect and dealt with it!"
The official looked confused as he began to evaluate the situation. He moved the red-faced blonde's hair to the side and gasped in shock. "Rita Skeeter?"
"Well, well, Rita," a female voice said dryly as she came out of the Wizengamot doors. Amelia Bones stepped out with Alastor Moody and another senior Auror, John Savage. "Normally, I'd say that Wizengamot business always comes first, but in this case, I'm quite happy to make an exception."
"To conclude our proceedings here today, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley. We the Wizengamot now ask you if there were any others who conspired with you or participated in the performance of the malicious pranks that you carried out before the eyewitness memories are submitted for review. We are obliged to warn you that anything you leave out that is subsequently discovered due to witness testimony can and will be held against you, and that your sentence may be increased or changed accordingly."
"Just Ginny," Ron said. "She was our lookout, and she always volunteered to deliver any of our pranks to 'ermyninny's dorm room whenever we couldn't do it ourselves."
"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY, HOW COULD YOU?! SHE'S JUST A BABY! AN INNOCENT LITTLE GIRL!" Molly yelled furiously.
"QUIET!" yelled the wizened-looking Chief Warlock. "Mrs Weasley, you have thus far been permitted to sit and watch these proceedings because of your close relation to the accused, but that does not give you leave to disrupt this trial. Any further outbursts on your part and you will be removed from this courtroom, is that clear?"
"Sit down, Molly," Arthur hissed, pulling his wife down into her seat, his face expressing clear disapproval of her behaviour thus far.
"Now, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, kindly tell us if there were any others who joined you during the commission of your malicious pranks."
"None," Harry said with a disinterested shrug. "Only room enough for Ginny and the two of us under the cloak."
The Head Warlock hastily scribbled down some notes. "You will all now take your seats as we begin the presentation of victim testimony," he said, gesturing them to the designated seating area.
"Since all of the other victims have been interviewed with all pertinent memories submitted, that leaves only one more left to be called until we break for our final deliberations," the Head Warlock said. "Master Granger, would you please step up onto the dais?"
Hermione, who had been sitting quietly beside Alastor Moody and Minerva McGonagall, stood up slowly and walked down the aisle to the witness dias. Her formal black robes hung from her shoulders like draped wings, tiny prisms of light glistening off the surface like the glimmer of scales. She stood up on the top platform, bowing her head respectfully.
"Master Granger, thank you for coming today," the Head Warlock greeted her kindly. "To make this easier for everyone including yourself, I will permit you to cast your memories into the projection Pensieve. After which you may exit the grounds to a less stressful waiting area, if you so wish. As I understand the memories are sensitive."
"Thank you, Head Warlock," Hermione said. "I will do so."
The wizened wizard nodded, writing down on the log in front of him. "Anytime you are ready, Master Granger."
Hermione pulled multiple strands of memories from her head, guiding them like strands of hair into the waiting vials around the giant Pensieve. The older witch sitting by the Pensieve nodded as she carefully labeled each memory. Hermione bowed her head to her as the last memory went in, and then quietly walked out of the meeting chambers.
As she walked by the seating area on her way out, a disgruntled Harry and Ron leaned toward the aisle and hissed furiously at her. "My mum put her best mate from school in the hospital over a grudge," Harry heckled her. "What do you think she'll do to you when she finds out you framed us?"
"Yeah, I heard mum telling dad all about it. Some Slaverous Swape or something. He got his for messing with our stuff." Ron glowered menacingly at her. "Just like you will."
"Slytherin slag."
"You, lean back. Do not talk to the witnesses!"
The two wizards leaned back begrudgingly.
Hermione squared her shoulders and walked by them in a rush, not looking back.
"All memories seen at this proceeding must kept in the utmost confidence. Any conversation or commentary about what you have seen today is strictly forbidden. Those who cannot follow these guidelines will be Obliviated. Those who choose to do so despite these warnings will be dealt with very harshly as per the general protocol of the Wizengamot," the Head Mugwump said. "Now, please continue with the proceedings," he ended, waving toward the Pensieve. It immediately sprang to life and projected the memories to all of the gathered in a blaze of colour and bright rays as the courtroom faded into the memory.
Books flew in all directions as a redhead and his mop-haired companion shoved themselves into her, hard. They didn't even look back until they were almost around the corner. The black-haired boy sneered down at her as though she were a particularly foul bit of trash just before they disappeared.
"Wingardium Levi-OH-sa!" Ron sneered to his friend as they left Transfiguration. "Like we can even tell she's saying anything intelligent through those enormous buck teeth of hers. Psh."
"That's okay, mate," Harry said, clapping his best mate on the back. "I put piss in her pumpkin juice this morning."
Hermione pushed by them, running for the hospital wing to the sound of their raucous laughter.
Hermione cried as her hands were stuck fast to the library table and the books around her seemed to move about on their own. They all dropped on her head, one after one, just before Madam Pince found her and started screaming at Hermione's abuse of her precious books.
"Detention!" she hissed. "I'm reporting your despicable treatment of valuable to books to the Headmaster!"
Cruel male laughter surrounded her, but she couldn't see anyone around.
Hermione stared down in horror at her hand-paws, her body having transformed into that of an anthropomorphic feline immediately after she drank her pumpkin juice—or what she had thought was pumpkin juice. Giggles, snickering and catcalls surrounded her as all the children from Gryffindor laughed at her. They all clapped Harry Potter on the back, who looked incredibly smug, clearly proud of himself.
Hermione dashed out of the Great Hall, crying in hysterical meows.
"Now only her bloody cat will like her," someone laughed. "Oh wait, that is the only thing in the castle that likes her!"
More laughter. More ridicule.
"But, I didn't do it, Professor!"
"Yeah, and I 'uppose all those hippogriffs I asked you ta feed got all befuddled on 'dere own!"
"But—"
"I don't want you 'volunteering' to help me anymore, Miss 'ermione. In fact, I don't want you signing up for my class anymore either!"
Hermione fled the half-giant's hut, crying her eyes out.
"Oh, where did 'ou two come from," Hagrid boomed. "Might as well 'elp me feed the animals some tonic since that 'ermione doped 'em all up."
Hermione stared at Harry and Ron as they helped Hagrid, closed her eyes, and fled back to the castle.
"I can't be your friend, Hermione," Neville said. "The last person who tried got the pox and couldn't sleep for an entire week. I just can't risk it. I'm sorry."
Hermione screamed as magic pinned her down to the floor and her own quill pressed deep into her skin, digging cruelly into her flesh as it carved the words: Mudblood. Useless.
Laughter.
Always the mocking laughter.
Minerva McGonagall burst into the room, drawn to her screaming. "Miss Granger, what is—Merlin!"
The elder witch cradled her to her body as she rushed off, carrying a sobbing Hermione to the infirmary.
"I'm so very sorry, Miss Granger," Professor Slughorn said, putting a hand on her shoulder as she wept over the body of her poor Crookshanks.
The laughter snickered in her ears. Just loud enough to ruin whatever comfort Slughorn may have given.
"Keep your nose out of where it doesn't belong, freak."
"Or you'll end up just like him."
"Stupid bint."
"You didn't even know he was in distress."
"You didn't even know how to sense your own familiar."
"Idiot."
"Some witch you are."
"Don't even know how to seal a familiar bond. "If you had been a real witch—"
"You'd have been able to hear him, crying out for help."
"SHUT UP!" Hermione screamed, clutching her head, slamming her hands over her ears.
"Miss Granger, that's hardly appropriate language!" Slughorn said, appalled.
"Shut up," Hermione wailed, sobbing inconsolably as she rocked the body of her beloved Crookshanks.
Always the laughter.
That awful, bloody laughter.
"You think that just because you moved out of the dorm and have your face shoved up McGonagall's arse that you'll be okay?"
How had they found here? She was up high on the ramparts, hidden from everyone. Minerva had given her permission, but no one had seen her! She had been careful!
Ink spilt all over her books and her robes.
One of her books went flying off the ramparts as if it had been kicked violently.
"You'll never be safe."
"Not unless you leave Hogwarts."
"Yeah, why don't you just leave Hogwarts."
"No one likes you."
"No one wants to be around you."
She was jerked up into the air by her ankle, her trousers yanked down to expose her knickers. Soap bubbles filled her mouth.
Her wand flew out of her hand, flying over the ramparts and falling far below.
"What was that?"
"Did she say something?"
"Naw, she can't even say anything!"
"We should just leave her here, to consider her options."
Hermione cried, suspended and wandless as the cold chilled her to the bone—until Minerva had finally found her and carried her off to the infirmary once again.
Hermione wept bitterly into the elder witch's robes.
"They are finding her somehow!" Minerva yelled, throwing up her hands. "Every single time, I somehow just miss them! I never see anyone around! How is that even possible?"
Poppy was carefully dabbing healing balm over Hermione's skin, which had been scalded by an exploding potion.
"I've had to give her a room connected to mine just so she can get a decent night's sleep, Poppy," Minerva groaned. "I've taken her on as my apprentice so she doesn't have to be in class with her tormentors! How are they still finding her every single time she's alone?"
Poppy shook her head. "You've been wanting to have her as an apprentice for a while, Minerva—"
"Yes, but I wanted it to be her choice! Not just so she had one place she could feel safe!"
"I did choose it, Master," Hermione whispered. "Not just because of the two of them."
Minerva grasped her hand. "I left you for just five minutes, lass. Just five minutes. How is it that they seem know very the instant I leave?"
Hermione winced as Poppy put more balm on her skin. "They always know where I am. They always know when I'm alone."
Minerva frowned, saying nothing else, but her eyes smoldered with suppressed anger.
All of them were laughing.
The entire Great Hall was laughing.
The moment she walked into the Great Hall, her robes simply… vanished. No, they were still there but they were somehow… invisible. She could still feel them on her body—not that it mattered.
She covered her breasts with her arms, but it was too late—there was no saving even a shred of her dignity.
"Are you okay, Theo?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," the boy said. "I'm just sick and tired of all the dumb things that always seem to happen when no one else is around."
"Are Draco and Blaise—?"
"They're in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey is pulling all out all the broom splinters. There were a lot of them."
Hermione slumped. "I'm sorry."
"It's not YOUR fault, Hermione," Theo told her quite firmly. "You know it's Potter and Weasel. We all know it. The only difference is, most other people are too busy kissing their asses to care about them hurting other people. Just because Potter is so damn popular because his daddy was an Auror and Voldemort chose to practically throw himself at them—" Theo sighed. "Daddy's a hero so he's the one people want to kiss up to, like some bloody royal."
Hermione slumped, defeated.
"Hey, none of that," Theo said, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into a hug. "We're not giving up on you. Hell, even Pansy wants a piece of them, and you know Pansy—"
"She hates me," Hermione snorted. "She thinks I'm after Draco. Always has."
"She hates them more," Theo said. "If you can't trust her, trust in her terrible wrath."
"I just wish—"
"One day, we'll figure out how they are tracking us, Bieb," Theo said. And when we do, McGonagall will have all the evidence she needs."
Just then, the dock they were sitting on collapsed, sending the pair falling into the lake.
Laughter.
Always the laughter.
"These memories have been tampered with!"
"They don't even show them!"
"This isn't evidence! It's a ruddy frame job!"
"Lady Potter! Mrs Weasley, we are going to have to ask you to leave this chambers at once!"
"But this isn't fair for our boys!"
"What isn't fair is that you expect the entire Wizengamot to alter their justice because you cannot accept the evidence, ladies," the Head Mugwump said, slamming his gavel down. "You were here when the evidence was taken. You watched the memories being extracted. Now, I must insist that the both of you to leave this room at once. You will be informed of the final judgement by owl."
Aurors moved to escort the two outraged witches from the chambers.
"Now, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley," the Head Mugwump said. "Please give us, the Wizengamot, a simple yes or no. Were you or were you not responsible for the events portrayed in these memories?"
The two wizards exchanged glances. "No."
The entire chambers exploded in noise as Molly and Lily were literally dragged out of the room and chaos reigned until the cacophony was finally cut off by the doors closing firmly behind them.
Potter Family Title Stripped
Fate of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley Finally Revealed
The fate of former Hogwarts students, Harry James Potter and Ronald Bilius Weasley, has been decided and their final sentence has been handed down after their month-long drama-filled trial concluded yesterday afternoon.
As the fate of the two wizards steadily grew more and more grim, a number of their fellow students gave testimony against them when they learned that they themselves would be held accountable as accomplices unless they could present proof that they were not involved in the Potter and Weasley's reign of terror. While some of these students were exonerated, having been found innocent of complicity, certain others, such as Ginevra Weasley, younger sister of Ronald Weasley, were found guilty of assisting Potter and Weasley in their cruel campaign of malicious pranks against their fellow students . Many of those involved were victims of peer pressure in that they feared for their own personal safety, stating that they had seen what happened to Granger and didn't want to become the next victim. Others were completely willing accomplices, and their fate will be determined over the coming months through separate trials.
In addition to spending fifteen years at a Dutch rehabilitation facility, being stripped of their wands and forced to wear a magic suppression collar for the duration of their sentence, both wizards are to be stripped of any family titles as being unworthy of such a great privilege. While the Weasleys have long since gone without theirs, the Potters, however, have not.
The victims of Mr Potter and Mr Weasley are also to be paid restitution that is to come out of their current assets, and if no such assets exist, it is to be acquired through garnishment of all future wages until the amount assessed has been paid in full. As of this publication, the number of victims is currently limited to those who were willing to submit testimony and submit their memories of the incidents at trial.
Hermione hated going to the hospital. It was mostly because she felt she was always being sent there for treatment, or else she went to visit Draco, Theo, or Blaise after they had taken a hit for the team, as it were. She always felt as though she were being watched, but that was hardly anything new. Years of being tormented by invisible antagonists had made her feel like she was being followed all of the time.
But, she had been avoiding this situation for a while—coming to this place. Partly for her dislike of hospitals in general and partly because she felt incredibly drawn to it—not to the hospital itself but rather someone within it.
Thuban—Severus—was here somewhere.
But why did she care? He'd made himself quite plain. He'd spouted what he thought of Gryffindor witches. Why did she care at all?
"Hermione?" a gruff voice grunted. "What are you doing here, lass?"
Alastor shuffled up, favouring one side as he walked.
"Alastor! Are you okay?" Hermione asked, rushing up to meet him.
"Ach, don't worry about me, lass," Moody said. "Nothing a hot soak and some rest won't fix. Dark Wizard tried to shoot me in the face, and I fell over some furniture getting out of the way."
Hermione still looked unconvinced. "Are you sure you're okay?"
The cranky old Auror hugged. "I've had far worse from getting in-between two crazy-arsed witches fighting over their kids, Hermione. One of 'em tried to take off me head, and the other went straight for my bollocks. They say mothers are the fiercest of animals, but my mam was hardly one to go between my legs to make her point."
Hermione flushed. "What on earth happened?"
"Ach, walk with me. I'm going up to check on Severus," Alastor said. "He's gotten the short end of the wand more times than anyone I know, and I feel bad because this last time—it was my fault. I asked him as a personal favour to try and remove a curse off the Potters' trunk, and I should have had both Lily and James in irons before I did it. I knew better. I knew the last time they'd seen each other—" Alastor rubbed his temples. "Lily, back when she was Lily Evans, was Severus' neighbour and childhood friend. They were close for years until they came to Hogwarts. Hogwarts—changed them."
"Changed them?" Hermione asked curiously.
"It wasn't intentional," Moody explained. "It's the bloody house system. It's like a caste, you see? You've noticed how the different houses have these rivalries… misconceptions about each other?"
Hermione frowned. "Yes. Gryffindors hate Slytherins, and Slytherins generally aren't too keen on Gryffindors."
"Well, believe it or not it even was worse back then," Moody said grimly. "Being sorted into into another house was bad enough, but Severus made Slytherin, and Lily went into Gryffindor. Really, everything went downhill from that moment on. She fell into the mindset that Gryffindors were all noble sorts, and Slytherin were all Dark Wizards, and the truth was—Dark wizards were just as likely in the other houses too. Their friendship soured. He called her a bad name while being suspended by his ankles by the father of the wizard that tormented you. She never forgave him for it. About a year later, they—well, a man named Sirius Black—set him up to be killed by a werewolf just outside of Hogsmeade."
Hermione's agile mind quickly put it all together. "And that is when he shifted for the first time."
"Aye, lass," Moody said. "He did. He leveled the shack and flew off, and the werewolf bit some students before he was stopped. Black was one of them, as it turned out. They were all shipped off to the werewolf colonies, but we put Severus into hiding. Some of us knew he was still alive, and all his assets remained his, but we didn't really make it common knowledge, see. Amelia had reason to believe that Severus was being specifically targeted for recruitment to the Dark Lord that was rising at the time, and, well, none of us wanted that. So we helped him dig himself in underground and basically disappear. He's been protecting that patch of forest for a good decade or more—taking out Dark wizards and straggler followers of the ex-Dark Lord. There were rumours, of course, that the Ministry had a trained dragon on staff—part of why I think Potter and Weasley thought you were our 'trained minion'."
"Needless to say, he had a really bad history with Gryffindor—especially Lily," Moody said. "I had called him in to help because he was one of the best curse-breakers I knew, and Bill Weasley had already tried his best at it and failed. The trunk, however was not just cursed. It was specifically keyed to Severus' blood—as their most hated enemy. The trunk had been made sometime before the incident where Severus shifted. Black had fully intended to have Snape killed to make sure the trunk could never be uncursed or moved."
"But," Hermione broke in. "If his blood was the key, how did he end up here? That makes no sense."
Moody sighed. "Purebloods have old magic. Family magic, or just magic that's been around so long that predates more civilised times. Black used an old blood curse on that trunk. It was meant to kill Snape the moment he tried to break the curse. One way or another, he wanted Snape dead—and if the journals in the trunk are any indicator, at one point, James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black were all in a gang of notorious pranksters. Thing is, they leaned far more towards malicious spite than fun. Not like those two Weasley jokers, the twins."
Hermione nodded in agreement. Fred and George Weasley had tried to comfort her many times, only to end up being busted soon after for being out after curfew or being caught "red-handed" setting up a prank or another. They'd given her a black and white kitten with a strange tuft of red fur on the top of its head, telling her it was to remind her that there were at least a few people who truly cared about her. Then, on the day she came back to Hogwarts after the twins had graduated, her little tuxedo kitten was found dead… it looked like the poor thing had somehow been trampled by hippogriffs. It didn't take long for her to figure out what had really happened.
That laughter.
Always that bloody laughter.
Hermione stared down at the tiles of the hospital floor. "I guess he had as just much reason to dislike Gryffindor as I did, only I was a Gryffindor too."
Alastor stopped walking and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, did something happen? Severus told me before I dragged him to the Potters that it had better be a life and death situation because he'd finally found someone worth fighting for, and I was keeping him from her."
Hermione blinked. "He—said that?"
"I wasn't sure who he was talking about until just now," Alastor said. "It was you, wasn't it?"
Hermione swallowed hard. "Wh—why would you say that?"
"Hermione, I'm an Auror, not an imbecile," Moody grunted. "Severus has few friends. Fewer still that he trusts, yet, he trusted you, Hermione. He showed you his home, his lair. You are the only other Hebridean Black Animagus in all of Britain, with the only others being Master Faraway, who is a Ukrainian Ironbelly the goblins hired to guard their lower vaults, Master Wu who protects the Chinese rare kirin preserve, and Master Cozenbay who rescues ships from the squalls in Greenland." Alastor gave Hermione the arched eyebrow of "Are you getting what I'm putting down."
Alastor sighed and met her eyes. "I may not have scales and a propensity to breath real fire—though some may argue that—but I know something drew you here, Hermione, and it wasn't my rustic charm and dashing battle scars."
Hermione flushed. "You've been talking to Magorian and Bane, haven't you?"
"You're not the only one with virtual hooves, Eltanin," Alastor said with a calm smile. "They call me Rigel. One of the stars of the the hunter. It was either that or McGrumpy-Rump as was suggested by one of the younger foals."
Hermione's eyes grew wide.
Alastor put a hand on her shoulder. "You've had a hard go, Hermione, but so has Severus. If anyone can understand the other it is you and he.
"You are very persuasive, Rigel," Hermione said. "But what makes you think that I can do anything when all the healers of this hospital cannot?"
"They say love has remarkable powers of healing," Moody said with a quirk of his lips. "You're a bright young lass, you'll figure it out."
Hermione flushed brightly. "But I—We've only known each other for—"
"Are you a witch or are you not, Eltanin?" Moody grunted. "For a witch who is also a dragon Animagus, you seem awful disbelieving of the power of magic."
Hermione sighed. "Most days it still seems like a dream. I'm never sure what I will see when I wake up."
Moody frowned. "I can't imagine waking up to a world without magic. I can't even imagine what it would be like thinking it was all just a dream."
Alastor stopped at the door. "Lass, I know you don't have anywhere near as many reasons to trust as you have not to. That said, I believe that if you go into this room, you could make a big difference in not only your own life—but that someone who has been in dire need of compassion for a very long time. Much like yourself." He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and then plopped himself down in the nearby chair, pulling his trench coat snugly around himself as he slouched. Even if he looked as though he was simply resting, Hermione knew the man was all ears and keen observance.
Hermione swallowed hard and stepped through the doorway.
She could smell him, her drake, even now as he lay motionless in bed, in his much weaker human shape. She could feel the intense pull to be near him, even as a part of her admonished herself to be careful.
He had rejected her once already.
That was an unfortunate misunderstanding, Alastor had told her so.
He wasn't there!
But he's known him far longer than you. Why would he lie? He's never lied to you before. He's one of the few people you know you can actually trust. He's part of the herd too.
Just like Severus.
Thuban.
You always said you just wanted people to give you a chance. Why deny him his?
Hermione pressed her head against the doorframe and sighed, steeling her will and gathering her courage. She walked toward the bed, pulling her robes tightly around herself like a protective barrier.
He looks so pale, she fretted.
Is he even breathing?
Harry had said something during the last day of the trial. What had it been. It was something about—damn if she couldn't remember. Something his mother had told him.
Hermione braved each step as she made her way to the fallen wizard, her heart thumping in her chest as though she were facing, well, a dragon—a dragon without her wand or the gift of being a dragon Animagus herself. In her mind's eye, she saw the drake tightly coiled around himself. Would he even recognise her? They had had only one night together, after all.
As she stood by his side, her nostrils flared as the distinctive scent of him seemed to become stronger. Tentatively, she lay her head against his cool hand, her fingers brushing against his skin.
She felt a jolt of energy pass between them as a smoky plume of steam and smoke rose from his nostrils, a lick of purple flames leaking out from under his closed eyelids.
"Hermione," his voice whispered into her mind. "You came."
"I was scared to," Hermione said out loud. "I heard you talking—about how you loathed Gryffindors."
Despair flowed throughout his mental presence. "That wasn't about you," he replied. "It was about Lily—the one who also landed me in this place, by the way. Our track record remains unchanged. She needs me, I come running despite all sense, and I end up paying dearly for my stupidity. Somehow, I should have known. I should have—chased after you first."
Hermione felt a surge of emotion rise in her chest. "I thought—I'm sorry."
His sadness curled around her mind. "I have lived alone for far too long, Hermione. I forgot in the heat of the moment, that you were sleeping but a few rooms over… in my nest."
His voice rumbled in her mind, "I should have pursued you first."
Hermione pressed her face to his skin, inhaling the scent of the Hebridean Black under his more human skin. He, much like Minerva, had distinctive dual scents that made her wonder why they didn't just sniff out illegal Animagi—literally. Then again, maybe it was because there was because there was a bond between her and Minerva from the start—as there was to Thuban.
"Severus," his mind voice said. "I was never proud of my name. It, like the world around me, was harsh, critical. But when you say it, I wish to hear it again."
"Severus," Hermione said against his skin.
"Again."
"Severus," Hermione repeated, a shudder coming from within.
Magical heat spread between them, and hints of scales appeared over their skin as it did, ghosting the hint of the dragon beneath. Hermione pressed her face to his skin, rubbing against it. A trickle of flames leaked out from between her half-transformed jaws, gliding across his skin.
"Yes!" she heard him whisper. "Again! I can almost move."
"But, you might burn—you're not fully changed!" Hermione protested.
"Touch me," he said. "Touch me and breathe. I can feel it. Please. Trust me."
Hermione looked around. The room was oddly large—almost as if Alastor had arranged for Severus to be in an extremely large room just in case he should transform. Maybe she would fit…
"Please, Hermione," Severus' voice begged.
Hermione closed her eyes. "One thing first," she whispered.
"Anything," he agreed.
"A kiss," she said quietly into his ear, her hair draping over his face like a curtain.
"Woman, I would ravish you here in this hospital bed if I could only move!" Severus hissed into her mind, a moment of raw despair and desire blending together.
Hermione blushed slightly, and slowly pressed her lips to his—a gentle brush of a butterfly's wing upon his mouth. She felt a thrum of his heart beat, beating with hers. She towered over him as a jenny dragon, her front talons holding the small human being in her dagger-like grip. She keened, her voice like the song of an exotic whale.
"Please, Hermione," Severus begged.
Hermione pulled back her head, opened her jaws, and—
"Lady Potter, I highly recommend you not go in there!"
"He's my friend! I have to make sure he's okay!" A feminine scream came from the doorway of the room. "What the—SEV! NO!"
Hermione jerked her head back, flames leaking out from between her jaws.
"Hermione!" Severus' voice begged. "Please!"
Hermione's jaws opened and a blast of fire engulfed the room, changing from the cooler red and orange to the brightest white. Her wings curved around the room like a cocoon, shielding the walls from her fire, but she blasted down upon the body of Severus Snape.
There was a roaring in the room, shaking it from top to bottom as the room was both engulfed in dragon flames and the swift, all-encompassing blackness of wings.
Alastor flipped a page in his manual of How to Deal with Difficult People Without Throwing Unforgivables, licking his finger to get the page to turn without coming with twenty or so clingy other pages.
"Well, I warned her," he said with a shrug as the healers rushed up to drag the now-hysterical Lily Potter back to her own private room outside of the Auror's wing. Severus had earned the right to high security protection and privacy in the Aurors' wing, but Lily Potter definitely had not. She was the reason Severus was in the hospital in the first place.
Scrimgeour wanted Moody to bait her and see just how far she would go to clear her name—even as far as to factor whatever bribes if they happened. He and his cohorts almost gleefully agreed, as Snape's being incapacitated had made the goblins outraged, the hospital healers flustered, the dragon preserves ready to ride dragons over to smash up Lady Potter's house, the National Hippogriff Racing Society was up in arms that their healing potions and steroid suppressants were running low, and then there were the various wizards in very high places who needed a very particular… something for that very special moment.
Alastor knew that Scrimgeour had been trying to find justice in whatever way he could for those like Snape, ever since he'd found out the sheer extent of what had been permitted to go on under Dumbledore's reign. Scrimgeour had sat in on the review of hundreds of his so-called "pranking" cases, each one reaching new heights of shameful humiliation and, in some cases, could've led to serious physical harm… or worse. Moody, Kingsley, and Amelia Bones had sat in many such questionings as well.
Vials of memories remained squirreled away, just waiting for sufficient evidence to back them up—visual confirmations and the like. None were ever found. Only when Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, the Marauder's Map, and the Invisibility Cloak came to light did the continual lack of evidence start to make sense. Still, it was commonly believed that Sirius Black had gotten his by his own machinations, having been turned into a werewolf and forced to live in a werewolf colony. Peter Pettigrew had served time as an illegal Animagus and then had been discovered to be a branded Death Eater. He was still rotting away in a cell somewhere in the bowels of Azkaban. James Potter and Lily Evans had managed avoid any such legal entanglements. While Lily hadn't participated in pranksters' reign of terror, she did have a bad habit of showing up in the middle of things. They, too, had gotten married due to being victims of their very own contraception charm hoax—seeing as the elder Potters were not going to allow any Potter-spawn to be born out of wedlock.
Now, of course, Lily was facing charges for reckless use of Dark magic for personal gain. There were also whispers of charges for assault with murderous intent or reckless endangerment or even undue influence in an attempt to keep her son from being incarcerated—much of which Moody had seen so many times before. Parents believed their children to be perfect little angels with bright untarnished halos, and they continued to believe that up until the point the Pensieve memories came out. Even then, belief was never easy. So, a lot of what Lily Potter did was almost expected and somewhat forgivable up until the point when she recklessly endangered the life of her childhood "friend", rendering him comatose in an attempt to free her son from the influence of a cursed trunk.
It had broken the spell, but it hadn't done diddly to save Harry James Potter and Ronald Weasley, rampaging arsemongers and malicious pranksters extraordinaire.
"Aren't you going to go in there and check to see if they're okay?" Savage asked, sitting down in a nearby chair.
"Nope," Moody said.
The walls rumbled and shook, then a large spaded, scaly tail shoved out of the small door. A slightly smaller tail wove around it and dragged it back in, the delicate spade moving to close the door again.
Savage's eyes grew very wide. "Ooookay then," he said with a low whistle. "I take it things are okay now?"
"Give them a bit," Alastor advised. "He's trying to convince her he's the manliest drake out there. You really don't want to get in the middle of that."
"In… a hospital room?!"
Moody peered over his book. "It's much bigger on the inside than it is on the outside."
Savage stared at the ceiling. "Mmm-kay." He paused. "But in a hospital room?!"
"Shut your gob and read something," Alastor said, throwing a book at him.
Savage turned the book over and narrowed his eyes to read the cover, which was embossed with the words, "Knowing When to Open Your Mouth and When to Shut It."
"Mph," Alastor answered, flipping the page of his book.
One of the healers walked by carrying a gargantuan thermometer. "Temperature time, Mr Snape," she said, utterly nonplussed. There was the sound of rustling, low rumbling, and then a rather loud thump. "Ah, good. Nine hundred and seventy two degrees. Much better. Oops! Kindly watch the tail, please. Colour excellent. Scale shine is reflective with no dullness. Colour of skin between the scales—You're clearly feeling much better, excellent! Now, there will be no relieving yourself in the corners of this room, Mr Snape. Instincts and all, I know, but if I didn't let the wolf and the chimeras do it, I'm not letting you do it either because you know who will be cleaning it up if you do!"
There was the sound of disgruntled rumbling.
"Okay, skin is intact with no dryness or tearing. Stretch out the right wing for me. Now the left please? Any numbness, tingling? Lack of sensation?"
Draconic growling and rumbling answered her.
"Good, good," the healer said. "There now, lass, no need to be jealous. Might as well give you a proper look over too."
Savage kicked Moody on the shins. "That healer is bloody crazy!"
"Healer Skyfall has been patching us up since before I was born, lad," Alastor said. "If anyone can stare down a dragon, tell it to behave itself and have it listen, it's her."
"Ack!" the healer said, and there was a dull thump. "Yes, yes, you're quite welcome. Try not to break that lamp now. It's one of the few I actually like in this old place."
The door opened and Healer Skyfall shuffled out, the oversized thermometer slung casually over her shoulder. "All's clear, Alastor," she said cheerily. "I expect them back in a month for their first prenatal visit." With that she turned the corner and disappeared into another room.
Savage blinked. "Baby dragons?" He abruptly paled and sank into the chair, slid off the edge, and then hit the floor.
Moody shook his head, flipped to the next page of his book, and sighed. "What's your problem, Savage?"
"I've never been married at a hospital before," Hermione whispered, her arm looped around Severus' waist.
He arched a brow at her. "As opposed to all the other times you've been married?"
Hermione flushed. "I mean—I never thought I'd be walking out of a hospital married!"
"Technically, married people seek services at a hospital and walk out again still married. That doesn't exactly change," Severus replied with a smile tugging at his lips.
Hermione huffed. "You know what I mean!"
Severus hrmed. "Perhaps." He stared down into her face, his pale hand gently brushing the hair away from her ear and face. Hermione flushed pink, but she leaned into his touch. "I feel we skipped over some of the things normal couples consider par for the course. I do, however, know of an excellent place where they offer delicious barbequed beef by the rack that just happens to be by a bookstore for a little after-dinner edu-tainment."
Hermione perked, dragon frills practically poking out of her bushy curls. "Oh?"
"Interested?" Severus asked.
"Do Nifflers like treasure?"
Severus smiled. "We'd have to dress Muggle, I fear, lest we both look like renegade scandalous priests."
Hermione looked down at her black robes. "Point."
"I, for one, would like to have a good soak in the hot springs before we go anywhere, seeing as I've spent the last few weeks confined to a bed with nothing to smell but medicine and myself."
Hermione arched a brow. "They did bathe you, Severus. It's not like they just laid you up and sprayed you with air freshener.'
Severus rolled his eyes. "Still, I would much prefer a bath on my own terms.
"You should just tell her the truth, Snape," a snide voice said. "Though, I'm sure she'll figure out you don't bathe often enough on her own."
"Potter," Severus said, his posture instantly stiffening. "Don't you somewhere else to be?"
"I'm waiting for my wife," James said, twirling his wand in his fingers.
"The main foyer is the other way," Severus answered coolly.
"She obviously got through to you," James deduced. "Seeing as you are walking out. Why she chooses to waste her time helping the likes of you is utterly beyond me."
"Is that what you think?" Severus replied, arching a brow. "That she helped me?"
"Are you calling my wife a liar?" James asked, puffing up.
"I haven't called Lily anything since that time you and your little friends strung me upside down in front of most of the school and proceeded to strip me down to my starkers," Severus answered. "As you well know."
"And yet, here she came to help you, Snape," James sneered. "Yet you don't have a lick of respect for that do you?"
"I'm not sure what it is that you consider to be "help", Potter," Severus said. "Seeing as this is the private entrance for Auror affairs—"
"Well, you definitely aren't an Auror," James retorted.
"No, but I'm frequently called in as a consultant for the Aurors."
"Right," James muttered. "You're their pet dragon on a leash. Scaring young people half out of their wits when even your face isn't enough to do the job on its own."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Potter," Severus said icily, "does my registered status give you rather less to hold over my head? Well, other than the countless other imaginary infractions that only someone with your feeble mind could come up with, hrm?"
"You forget, Snape," James said. "I've seen everything you did."
"Imagined, I did." Severus placed himself squarely between James and Hermione. "Tell me, Potter. What were you doing at the time you "saw" everything I supposedly did?"
"Keeping an eye on you," James replied. "Sirius may gone a little overboard, but he knew you were a problem."
"Overboard?" Severus let out a huffing scoff. "He tried to kill me with a bloody werewolf!"
"Yeah, and you believed him. Not very smart of you, was it?"
Severus' face darkened, his hand clenching, but Hermione's hand clutched his fingers tightly, a jolt of warmth passing between them. He let his breath out slowly. "Fine, try justify my almost-murder as you will, Potter, but have you justified yourself to your wife? Have you told her that it was your manipulation that created the fake contraceptive potion that led to the birth of your son?"
"You know perfectly well that she miscarried," James hissed.
Severus paused a moment, seemingly doing the math in his head. "So, little Harry wasn't a bastard child. I'm sure that went over so much better with mummy and daddy. Made the wedding seem—somehow a little more legitimate. Does she know? Does she realise that it was no mere accident that she ended up magically married to you, that it happened solely because she used a contraceptive charm that you and your fellow Animagus delinquents created? A spell your son and his best mate decided to spread around again and—oh, I'm terribly sorry, it seems they are both married to witches they shagged in a random broom closet."
"You ruddy wanker, I'm going to rearrange your ugly face and make it even worse than it already is!" James yelled, enraged.
Suddenly Lily was in front of her husband, her wand to his throat. "What did Sev mean, James?"
James stumbled, stammering. "Whu—what, love? Snape and I were just having a discussion."
"What. Did. He. Mean, James?" Lily insisted, her green eyes narrowed and fixed intently on her husband. "What did he mean that contraceptive charm was created by you?"
"Well, I didn't create it, Lils," James protested.
"But you knew about it, didn't you?"
"Well, I didn't give it to you—"
"But you just let Sirius do it like the twisted little enablers you always were. And I believed your sorrowful bullshite about caring about me and the baby and you wanting to keep my honour intact!"
"Lils, I love you! You know that!"
"Love me enough to lie about it!"
"I never lied to you!"
"You withheld the truth from me. That's even worse."
"Whaa?" James floundered.
"I told them they were mistaken," Lily hissed. "I told them there was no way you would have done such a thing to me! I told them you loved me!"
"I do love you, Lily! And I know you love me!"
"I don't even know you!" Lily hissed. "You really were nothing but a despicable, disgusting toerag, James Potter, and I was just too blind and too desperate not to be seen as a sodding whore to see it!"
"Lily, I love you!" James moved to embrace her, but Lily shoved him away with a look of disgust on her face. "Get away from me!"
"Lily, please!" he protested, trying to hold her again.
"Homo ad pisces," Lily hissed furiously, "in aeternum."
James' yelp was abruptly cut off as he was transformed into a black-capped lionhead goldfish in a flawless crystal bowl. The fish frantically swam in circles around the bowl, rustling up the gravel and plants, his wild splashing working to agitate the water on the surface.
"I have nothing more to say to you, James Potter," Lily said coldly. "Your parents may have paid off your fines for being an illegal Animagus and made that mess just go away, but let's see how well they react to the shame of their son disappearing on his poor, emotionally traumatised wife, leaving only a pet goldfish behind to keep her company."
Lily's face darkened. "I'll raise our son without you and we'll both be much better for it," she said, her hand drifting to rub her abdomen in an unconscious gesture.
The fish in the bowl went spastic, trying to jump out of the crystal container, but a magical barrier prevented him from escaping the tightly warded aquarium. Lily walked stiffly over to Severus and Hermione, and she shoved the bowl into Hermione's hands. "Congratulations on your marriage," she said coolly. "Do with him as you will."
Hermione found herself with an armful of goldfish bowl and wore a rather baffled expression as Lily Disapparated with a loud crack.
Alastor stepped out of the shadows where he had been watching, and Hermione immediately handed the bowl over to the perpetually grumpy-looking Auror. Moody sighed. "I know just the place." He paused. "But—"
The Snapes stared at him.
"If you are up for a little donation to education," Moody said with a glint in his eye. "I might be able to clear a different sort of sentence for our new fishy friend that will benefit our magical youth on a whole new level."
"We were just going to get ready to go out for dinner, Alastor," Hermione purred. "Shall we discuss it this evening, after we've had a little time to wash up?"
"Indeed," Alastor said. "I wouldna miss it for anything."
"Floo over to my lair, Alastor," Severus said, staring down at the still-spastic fish. "Say around eighteen hundred?"
Moody grunted. "Gives me time to have a chat with Scrimgeour," he said. "Do I need to wear my kilt?"
Severus arched a brow. "I don't see why not. We are celebrating a wedding, after all. I would expect Minerva to turn up in her clan colours. Just don't have a clan war over the dinner table."
Moody snorted. "Only during Quidditch season."
Aquatic Pond and Garden Donated to Hogwarts
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been gifted a spectacular aquatic pond and garden by newlyweds Severus and Hermione Snape, who have not only celebrated their wedding, but also Mr Snape coming out of Ministry witness protection for murderous actions committed against him over a decade ago by the notorious criminal and werewolf, Sirius Black.
Severus Snape, proprietor of the Black Scale, has been faithfully serving the Wizarding community during this entire time, and he is greatly relieved that he may now walk the streets in safety with his new wife. They were bound and married by magic after Mr Snape was stricken with a decades-old curse that had been placed on a trunk that was long hidden inside the Potter family's attic. The dark curse, activated by his blood touching the trunk, placed Mr Snape him in a catatonic state. Thankfully, however, Sirius Black had added what he clearly believed to be the most impossible condition to be fulfilled on the curse: true love.
Well, apparently it isn't so impossible as Mr Black may have believed. May he, wherever he is, chew on that for a while.
The Snapes have quite generously dropped charges on Mrs Lily Potter following the inexplicable disappearance of her husband, James Potter. They said, in an interview, that they believed Mrs Potter had been through quite enough what with having been forced into a magical marriage, finding out her child had been corrupted by a cursed collection of Dark-tainted journals and books as well as being stricken by poor judgement as well as undue influence from a few unnamed parties who are currently still under investigation.
When Lord and Lady Potter were questioned about the activities of their son, both refused to comment, saying they were focusing on helping Mrs Potter with her pregnancy and ensuring that the newest young Potter does not suffer the same fate as his elder brother, the infamous Harry James Potter.
The Aurors, when questioned, stated that they believe that Mr James Potter is serving out his sentence at a private location for a list of crimes that they will not release to the public at this time. Rumour has it that some of these offenses date back to the seventies in connection to Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and his own wife, Lily Potter (née Evans).
The climate-charmed aquascape and garden will be in place by the time the children return from Christmas Holidays, and Headmistress McGonagall tells us that when the spring family visits occur—a fairly new occurrence thanks to the ever-innovative Headmistress—they will be welcome to come visit the new garden, feed the goldfish, and enjoy the pleasures of their new temperature-regulated refuge from the unforgiving Scottish weather.
"I knew it!" Charlie exclaimed, whumping Severus upside the snout with his palm. "I KNEW it!"
The massive Hebridean Black yawned toothily, curls of steam rising up from his nostrils as he pointedly ignored the small human wizard.
"Seeeevvverrrusss!" Charlie whined, pouting visibly and audibly.
The black dragon harrumphed, closing his purple eyes, moving Charlie over so the sun could bake down upon him as he sprawled over the top of the waterfall.
"Come on, Severus! You could have told me! You could have—"
Wuu-PHOOOM!
Great wings beat as another black dragon rose up from the falls, bursting through the cascade of water as she soared up and then landed beside Severus. She growled, purple eyes glowing as she spotted the interloper, black lips pulling back from her teeth in instinctive defence of her shared domain.
"Whoa! Whoa, whoa! Severus!" Charlie gasped, looking at the larger Hebridean Black in the hopes for a saving intervention, but Severus' eyes were closed, his head turned away.
The jenny dragon leaked flames out of the corners of her mouth, narrowing her eyes as the red-headed wizard hastily walked backwards away from her, holding out his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Hey, now. Easy, my lady. I'm not a threat." Charlie averted his eyes, staring down, bowing his head. While a normal person would have found it more dangerous to not look at where the dragon was, Charlie knew better. This was her territory, and the last thing he wanted to do was act like he had the right to be there without her express permission.
The jenny pressed her nostrils to his robes, rumbling lowly, her claws scraping against the stone of the falls. Charlie felt a squirming in his inner pocket, and his eyes widened as the jenny jerked back, smoke rising from her nostrils.
"Easy now," Charlie soothed. "I brought a friend," he explained. "He's really weak, and I've been taking care of him. Here, let me show him to you."
Purple eyes bored into him.
Charlie slowly opened his robe and scooped something out of his pocket, whispering, "Engorgio."
"Skrrrrr?" A dragonet the size of somewhat rotund Shetland pony sat on the damp rocks. His scales were dull, and his eyes were dark, barely showing even a hint of purple. His miniature horns were barely grown, and his dorsal spines were limp and his spade-tail was scuffed and half-shed, small tatters of dried skin clinging to it.
"His parents rejected him," Charlie said sadly. "I've tried feeding him, keeping him warm, talking to him—but he's not getting any better. Severus, please! Help me out here!"
The larger black dragon yawned lazily in his direction, the tip of his tail rising and falling with draconic amusement.
"Severus!" Charlie pleaded.
Hermione, however, was taking an avid interest in Charlie's unexpected parcel.
"Skirrrrp?" the dragonet said, eyes growing wide as Hermione nudged him with her nose.
Hermione made a soft, whale-like croon, and Severus was immediately on his feet, moving up next to her, sliding his neck against her neck as his head rubbed against hers. Severus grabbed Charlie with a snap, grasping his robes between his front teeth just before hanging him on a branch of a nearby oak.
"Whoa, hey, Severus? What're you doing?" Charlie was squirming from his dangling position in the tree.
"Skirrrrrr!"
The "little" dragonet stretched out his neck to bump his nose against Hermione and Severus' snouts.
Hermione and Severus pulled their heads back simultaneously, and Charlie squirmed and cried out as their lips pulled back from their teeth, jaws opening wide.
"No! Nononononono!"Charlie cried out. "Don't put him down! Don't put him down!"
Both dragons belched out a huge gout of flame, their fire turning from orange, to blue, and then white as it consumed the dragonet completely.
"I just wanted to give him a chance," Charlie groaned. "He just needed a chance."
"Skiiiurp!"
A shiny black dragonet squeaked and purr-rumbled, weaving around the larger dragon's legs as he romped, nay, frolicked under and around them. Trails of smoke trickled from his nose, his eyes a bright and healthy shade of purple. His scales were shiny and polished like mirrors, no longer dull with fading health. Even his horns were longer, curving back across his head, shiny and flawless.
"Skeeeeeee! Rrrrrrr! Skrup!" The dragonet splashed in the water, tiny wings fluttering as he pumped them frantically, but he was still too young and didn't yet have the strength and wingspan he needed to actually fly.
"Oh. thank Merlin," Charlie groaned in sheer relief. "I thought—for a minute I thought—Oh, just get me down from here so I don't feel like such an ruddy idiot."
Severus snatched Charlie up by the robes and dropped him back on the ground, his rumble shaking the ground as he moved by the wizard. The dragonet was batting playfully at Hermione's spade-like tail, acting like a kitten after its mother's tail tip. The dragonet spotted Charlie and promptly rushed him.
"Squeeeeerrrrrrrrk!"
THUMP.
Sploosh!
Dragonet and Charlie were sopping wet, and the dragonet was doing his best to slobber Charlie to death, shoving his snout into all of his ticklish places.
"Arrrr!" Charlie protested, flailing. "You did this on purpose, Severus!"
Severus, who was dutifully grooming his mate with loving tongues of flame and his snout, made no effort whatsoever to communicate. Hermione entwined her neck around his, crooning softly, all interest in Charlie put aside, the better to focus on certain more important matters.
Charlie flailed, pinned under about three hundred kilos of young dragonet, huffed, resigned to be pinned, wet, and enthusiastically slobbered on. "This is because I want to examine you isn't it?" he groaned. "I yield! I yield! I promise I won't try to take measurements and samples!"
Severus made a soft clicking rumble, and the dragonet perked his head and bounded back to the snuggling dragons. He wriggled his way between their necks and chirred happily.
Charlie sighed as he sat up. "You owe me a new set of robes."
"Did my brother really—" Charlie said, slumping. "I'm really sorry, I don't mean to make light of your situation at all, Hermione. I truly mean that. I just never thought my baby brother could be such a hateful person. We didn't always have everything because of how many of us there were, and Ron often got the hand-me-downs. I know he hated that. He'd ask me when I was still a kid 'why are we so poor if we're pureblood?' as if it mattered what blood status was to having seven mouths to feed, yeah? As for me and Bill too—we didn't really realised how hard dad worked until we had to make our own way. That's normal, right? You don't realise what your parents do for you until you're out trying to make it on your own, and then you realised your mom is an angel, a ruddy miracle and your dad never stopped trying to keep a roof over the head and still had a smile for you at the table."
"It's fine, Charlie," Hermione assured him. "If you can forgive me for having a visceral reaction to your red hair and clear genetic fingerprint." She smiled at him.
Charlie slapped his hands to his face. "The hair and the freckles! Yeah, no one with eyes can miss a Weasley. Even in Romania, people are like 'I know you! You're a Weasley'!" After what you went through, I'm honestly surprised you handled it so well. Dragon instincts are strong, as I've found out the hard way. With that little guy over there," he trailed off, pointing to the sleeping dragonet in the nest. "Well, he had a small chance of survival without parents and a firm family bond. Half the introductions we do end up with a dead baby because the same magical fire that seals the bond can also kill them. But, at least it's a chance. More than they'd ever get otherwise. I will admit to being a little attached to him. Paranoid, even, that you wouldn't accept him. He was such a little fighter. Is still."
The dragonet had flopped on his back, wings sprawled, feet up in the air, and he rolled back in forth in the nest with coos of pure pleasure. He chomped on the leg bone of the last deer his new "parents" had brought him, happily crunching his teeth against the bone as his rough tongue rasped every little bit of remaining flesh of it. He then grabbed the remaining skull of said deer, and proceeded to remove every bit of velvet off the stag's once-growing antlers.
Charlie smiled. "At least he's eating well."
"However did you end up with him?" Hermione asked.
Charlie sighed heavily. "I was called in by the MacFusty clan who watch over the resident dragon population in the Hebrides. They have quite a bit of land to cover, and quite a few mated pairs, but since they are notoriously aggressive, the older pairs tend to drive the young away towards mainland Scotland. This little guy was hatched smack in the middle of a territory fight, so mum and dad didn't realise who he was and ended up punting him from the nest into the ocean below. They found him, barely alive, and patched him up, but he hadn't bonded to another dragon, so his time was limited. They called me in, hoping I could use the supplements you developed to keep him alive, but Hebrideans aren't like most dragons that just need a good meal."
"They need the living fire," Hermione said.
"Yes."
Hermione yawned, leaning into Severus, who had been silent for the entirety of the conversation. He rumbled softly, wrapping his arm around her. "Hi," she said drowsily.
"Hello," Severus replied, his expression softening.
"We should probably meet Alastor for dinner."
"I suppose," Severus said with a heavy sigh. "Whoever will we get to dragon-sit?"
Hermione and Severus turned to Charlie simultaneously.
Charlie looked from one dragon Animagus to the other. "But I draw the line at pre-chewing the raw venison before feeling him."
"You help run a dragon sanctuary in Romania, Charlie," Severus said with a huff. "I'm sure you can handle it."
"Can you at least give the guy a name so I don't have to call him 'Argh'?" Charlie asked.
"I'm rubbish at naming things," Severus said.
"Rowtag," Hermione said, immediately getting steamrolled by a very happy dragonet. She wheezed a little, transformed, and grabbed the dragonet by the nape of the neck and carried him back to the nest. She breathed fire on the pony-sized reptile and tucked him into the nest, transforming back in a smooth transition to take her place next to Severus once more.
"And that means?" Charlie said after an awkward silence.
"Born of fire," Hermione said matter-of-factly. She gave him a look that seemed to ask, "Didn't you know that?"
"You two were truly a match made by the gods," Charlie said with a shake of his head. "I'll take care of Rowtag here. Just… bring me back a steak and chips from Vulcan's will you? If I go visit mum and dad, mum will try to fill me up with turnip mash and sprouts, and while I dearly love my mum and her cooking, I could really use some beef."
Severus tilted his head and sniffed. "We'll see what we can do."
"You can use the guest bed here in the nesting chamber, but don't be surprised if you get a scaly interloper joining you half way through the night."
"But, he's never slept here before. How would you know?" Charlie asked.
Severus smiled. "You smell like dragon," he said with an amused expression.
Charlie shrugged and froze suddenly. "Severus are you saying you knew I worked with dragons from day one?"
Severus said nothing, extending his arm for his wife as they Disapparated with a crack.
"Dragons," Charlie said with a sigh. "Animagus or hatched—they all play with their food and their friends with equal enthusiasm."
"Skiiiiurrr!" Rowtag screech-chirped. He peeked over the edge of the nest and belched flame on Charlie's hair.
"I rest my case." Charlie waited for his hair to go out. "Good thing Severus created that fire-proofing hair tonic and daily moisturiser."
"Alastor, I don't think I've ever seen you dressed so extravagantly," Severus commented with an arched brow.
"Well, it is a celebration of your wedding," the Auror said, rolling his eyes.
"He just didn't want to be seen without his clan colours when I'm here to witness it," Minerva said with a chuckle.
A flash startled them all, and Amelia Bones gave a sly smile. "For posterity," she reasoned as she sat down at the table.
The staff of the Vulcan, perhaps the most famous coastal surf and turf restaurant in Scotland, was bustling with activity. Nothing new for them, perhaps, but Severus seemed caught up in his awkwardness of finally being able to show his face in public and then getting to celebrate his wedding all within a remarkably short period of time.
He'd already had a few business offers from a few patrons and the establishment to sell some of his finest products for the more discriminating wizard and witch, such as his sea-resistant hair tonic, sun protection creams, warming potions for the more frigid Scotland weather, skin moisturisers, and sea-sickness tonics for those who wished to ride the boats out to watch the spectacular sunsets. The proprietor explained that they had thousands of guests in a given week, and the unpredictable Scottish weather did everything from baking them to freezing them. He and his wife, who had built the restaurant up from a small cottage with just a few tables into a robust, extremely popular business, could guarantee that the partnership would greatly benefit them both.
Severus, having always been one to know a good thing when it was practically biting him on the nose, agreed to meet with them in a week to discuss both the partnership and terms. One could never have too many allies or business connections, and he wasn't about to be beaten upside the head by Lucius for letting something so great get away from him.
Lucius and Narcissa had brought a basket of well-aged fine wines from their family cellars. Draco, Theo, and Blaise all arrived with beautifully gift-wrapped parcels of their own, adding them to the sizable stack on a nearby table. Each young wizard brought their dates: Astoria Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Viola Richmond. Luna Lovegood arrived with her date, who no one could actually see. Luna claimed he was under the influence of Invisilily pollen, so a seat was set beside her for her invisible "date". The Weasley twins, Fred and George, sneaked in carrying a few parcels to add to the pile. They arrived fashionably late, but the two proclaimed that they had to do some "mum-dodging" before they could escape without having to answer any awkward questions.
The Hogwarts' professors filed in after the twins, having had to arrange for someone to hold down the fort while they came to the celebration. Hagrid had agreed to take care of the patrols since he felt he couldn't leave the grounds for too long due to the animals, but he sent a very heavy, overly large, oddly-shaped, almost-wrapped present in his stead, which caused the large parliament of owls that brought it to collapse on the table, their sides heaving as they hooted softly in exhaustion, having clearly over-exerted themselves. Thankfully, the staff of the Vulcan were quickly on top of it, and brought out small bowls of fresh meat and water for the owls. The owls lingered as they rested and regained their energy, hooting sociably over the gathering.
"I'm glad you found each other, Hermione," Luna said as she fed one of the owls. "You'll have far less trouble with Nargles as a dragon. I think they fear the flames."
"Thanks, Luna," Hermione replied with a smile, giving the younger witch a hug.
A snowy owl hooted excitedly, seemingly perching on "nothing" next to Luna. A piece of meat floated up to feed the hungry owl, guided by an invisible force.
"Adrian really gets along well with owls," Luna said. "He also repels Wrackspurts without any sort of charmed object. It's definitely a skill I can approve of."
A slight pink tone hung in the air with a vaguely human face. "Aw, you're making me blush, Luna."
"Adrian?" Draco gasped. "You've been seeing Luna?"
More redness showed where once there was nothing.
"Fascinating!" Luna said. "I had no idea blushing would show under the influence of Invisililies!"
"Pucey, you dog," Blaise laughed, swatting the invisible wizard on the back. "How did you get into the Invisililies?"
Pucey sighed. "Someone was shipping them, and mixed up the labels. I was supposed to get the Lionheart Tango lilies from a Squib breeder. Their pollen is excellent when combined with other lily pollens to make a healing balm for any plant in a greenhouse. Even if it has rot. Anyway, I opened the shipping crate and got sneezed on by some irritated Invisililies. Took me an hour to get them put in quarantine and then warm people not to trip over all the invisible stuff from the box to quarantine."
Theo shook his head. "Damn, Puce. Sounds like you're really enjoying the new healing research though."
"Yeah, it's great," the invisible wizard said. "I just hope this wears off soon."
"So, what are you going to do with the Invisililies?" Draco asked.
"Shipping can deal them," Pucey muttered. "I'm done with them."
"Are you a wizard or are you not, Adrian Pucey?" Hermione huffed as she leaned over his chair, waving her wand. "Pollen collecta," she said, moving her wand in a spiral. She guided the "cloud" of pollen grains into a vial and stoppered it, setting it on the table.
Unfortunately, that restored Adrian to his pre-invisibility state of far-less-than-impeccable personal grooming. His hair was sticking up every which way, pointing up as though he'd fallen into a tub of hair gel and then been sneezed on by a hippogriff. His cardigan was disheveled, and he had pink lipstick on his cheek.
"Oh my—I'll be RIGHT BACK!" Adrian cried, flying up from the table before disappearing with a loud crack.
Everyone looked at Luna.
"He's a very good kisser," Luna said without any embarrassment. "You close your eyes anyway, so there really wasn't much of a difference."
"Thank you for coming to our impromptu celebration," Hermione said, amusement still tugging at her mouth. "I'll be the first to say I wasn't expecting to be married today, but I wouldn't change a thing, save for how it ended up happening."
The gathered guests clapped politely.
"That's okay," Draco said. "If everyone is anything like a Malfoy, they are always prepared for spontaneous social gatherings."
Hermione laughed at her friend. "Nobody is as prepared as a Malfoy, my friend. You certainly proved that."
"Hey! Zabinis are none too shabby at social spontaneity!" Blaise huffed, crossing his arms.
"You didn't get Severus a box of cravats did you?" Theo asked, poking Blaise with a finger.
"Shut up!"Blaise hissed. "They're made of pure Acromantula silk. He'll appreciate it."
The friends shook their heads at him.
"Please," Severus said, gesturing to the food as it came out from the kitchens. "Enjoy this time of both relief and celebration with us. Eat and be thankful with us that life did not end in a hospital—but instead began anew."
The waiter began to carve an enormous prime rib in front of them, placing large slices on the plates along with dollops of horseradish cream. As the waiter portioned out the roast, other staff brought out platters and bowls with Caesar salad, prawns in a garlic-butter sauce, smoked salmon, Yorkshire pudding, roasted potatoes, root vegetable gratin, lemon-thyme couscous, haricot verts with herbed butter, sauteed wild mushrooms with spinach, fragrant yeast rolls, Forfar bridie, kedgeree, and even the not-so-humble haggis made the rounds and were passed from person to person.
"Severus, my friend," Lucius said. "How do you feel about your new lease on public life?"
The black-haired wizard gave an almost gallant shrug. "Happy to be alive, Lucius. Happy to not be alone anymore."
"After the drama at Wizengamot," Lucius said, "I think you both are exceptionally lucky to have survived childhood. We are lucky too—that you did." Lucius grasped his wife's fingers and caressed them automatically. She, in turn, rubbed his left arm—pale and unmarked. They had both known what was at risk very early on, thanks to the fortuitous discovery of Wormtail and his insidious connection to the Dark Lord. Lucius had discovered his father's connection to the Dark Lord as well, and his manipulation of his son. Lucius' support of Severus by posting bounties he could anonymously collect, had slowly but surely ensured his family's safety—and the safety of the Wizarding World, one fanatic Dark wizard and witch at a time.
"What did happen, Lucius?" Madam Hooch asked. "Can you speak of it?"
"All public record now," Lucius replied. "There is some evidence of outside influence on Potter, and Ronald as well as Ginevra Weasley, but it is not the kind of influence many were likely expecting. The—children's sitter appears to have been responsible. Not for all of it, mind you, but enough to encourage them into taking the old journals to heart. I think most of of those who read them are contemplating if they might go back in time to readjust the sentences for certain people."
"That bad?" Flitwick asked. "I know the memories we submitted were pretty horrible, but they were only what happened after. We never actually saw the act being perpetrated. Albus was always so adamant that there could be no punishment without clear evidence, and informed us that we were not going to be permitted to use Veritaserum on a whim."
Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose. "That, in a nutshell, was the main problem, and in truth, under normal circumstances, we would not wish the DMLE to come tromping into Hogwarts business every time there was a kerfuffle to administer three drops of Veritaserum and determine the particulars. That situation, however, was well beyond complicated. As much as many of us wished to do something, we couldn't go beyond the law and we definitely didn't want to go against Albus."
"Well, Albus certainly reaped what he sowed after what happened with Mr Remus Lupin," Pomona said grimly.
"So, fifteen years in rehabilitation?" Rolanda Hooch asked.
Lucius nodded. "Legal in the Wizarding world but still going to school. Grey area. Hopefully, what with getting the help they need, they will come to see the light."
"An improvement to the triple-decker morons that got me almost killed, sans one werewolf who was probably a decent enough person before he tried to murder me," Severus said. "At least it wasn't his fault at the time."
"Well, enough of this rather un celebratory conversation," Minerva said. "Congratulations to you both!"
"Cheers!"
"Congratulations!"
They took their silverware and clanked them to the crystal lightly.
Severus rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and Hermione flushed slightly. He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss, causing a flare of magic to brush across the table. The gathered clapped politely, grinning and then went back to enjoying the food and company.
A rustling came from one of the unopened presents on the table. A bright gold and black paper crinkled as the ribbon undid itself a pink fuzzball shot out the top and splatted against the table with a squeak. A black and yellow one landed next to it, followed by rainbow-coloured one that cried, "Wheeeee!" just before landing on top. One landed in a coffee mug with a sploosh, and seemed very pleased by the situation. Multiple jeweled eyes looked this way and that as multiple legs unfolded.
"Got the box?"
"Yup!"
"Okay, let's go!"
The four plush spiders scurried up to Severus and Hermione, depositing a redheart wooden box in front of them.
"This is for you!"
"And you!"
"Well, both of you!
"Congragaminations!"
"Congratulations!"
"Congo rats!"
"Rats, is that appropriate at a wedding?"
"I dunno. Not just any old rats! Congo-rats!"
"Okay, if you say so!"
The pink plush spider pushed the box forward as the spastic coffee-saturated spider zoomed figure eights around the water glasses.
Severus and Hermione exchanged baffled glances.
"Well, come on, it won't bite!"
"We won't bite."
"Well, not very hard."
"More like gum your skin, plushily."
Hermione eyed the twins suspiciously.
Fred and George waved their hands. "I swear we didn't do it!"
Moody narrowed his eyes and nudged Amelia with his elbow. "What are you up to?"
Amelia smiled. "Nothing a few plush spiders won't fix."
"Where did you get them?"
"They fell out of an altered time-glass when McHutchins accidentally broke one. They insisted on finding Severus and Hermione." Amelia looked amused. "After they cleaned the entire office area, organised every artefact in alphabetical order and by date, found every lost object in the place, cocooned a run-away Dark Wizard, and spun individual sleeping hammocks for all the Unspeakables."
Moody's eyebrow twitched. "Is that all?"
"They also make extraordinary cuppas."
The plush spiders were staring at Severus and Hermione expectantly.
Severus opened the redheart box, and his eyebrows lifted high into his hair.
Shimmering rings crafted of glistening black dragon-scale glistened on a velvet pillow. The rings looked like tiny black dragons curved around a tiny shimmering hoard of emerald and rubies. The rings glistened and rose from the velvet and glided over to their hands, slipping onto their ring fingers as though they had been there all along.
"Yay, job's done!"
"Happy Wedding!"
"Happy day!"
The spiders merrily waved their legs in a cheer, then scurried up Hermione's arm and disappeared into her profusion of curls. Severus stared and then shrugged. "I've stopped asking questions of how such things can possibly exist when I transformed into dragon after being attacked by a werewolf."
Hermione leaned in and gave her husband a tender kiss, and everything was what it should be.
"You brought me steak," Charlie gushed. "You are my hero and heroine!" He hugged the parcel of food, sniffing the box with his eyes rolling back in his head with pleasure.
Severus unwrapped a large shank of well-aged beef that had plenty of meat clinging to it even after everyone had eaten their share of it, and lured out Rowtag by waving it in the air. The dragonet perked immediately, trying to crawl out of the nest to get to whatever smelled so wonderfully delicious.
Rowtag wrapped his baby teeth around the smaller end and tried to drag it back to the nest, but Hermione firmly nudged him over to the "eating nest" that was distinct from the "sleep nest." Rowtag, having no problem telling who 'mum' was even when she didn't look like a dragon, made happy sounds of meat-loving satisfaction, crunching on the end of the offering with gusto.
Charlie, who was covered in bruises and scratches from draconic roughhousing, didn't even seem to care as he tore into his box of food and almost literally dove into his steak and chips, face-first. Hermione chuckled as she finished moving the pile of presents into place in the lair, carefully keeping the cards with each one. She guided her traveling cloak to the hook on the wall, and flopped into the comfortable couch with a tired sigh.
Severus tossed Charlie a small tin.
"What's this?" Charlie asked, pausing only long enough to swallow before speaking.
"Bruise balm and healing ointment," Severus answered. "For humans abused by dragons rather than the other way around."
Charlie snorted. "Thanks. Rowtag just didn't know his own strength. He was all proper and well-mannered by the time you got back. Not bad for one day's work."
"Thank you for looking after him," Severus said.
"No, thank you both for adopting him," Charlie insisted fervently. "He surely would have died without you two." He paused as he picked at a card that was securely fastened to the tin with twine. "What's this?"
"Can't read? However did you survive Hogwarts?" Severus quipped.
Charlie rolled his eyes, picked at the little envelope lip, and pulled out an elegantly embossed card. "Are you serious?"
"Do I look like the type to hand you a prank after all this time?"
Charlie pet the card, looking as though it might vanish from sight if he so much as blinked. "You're sure?"
"Obviously," Severus droned lowly, rolling his eyes.
Hermione leaned up and kissed him, pulling him down onto the couch with her. He wasn't protesting in the slightest.
"Thank you both so much," Charlie gushed. "My parents haven't ever had such a feast—with beef roasts—for as long as I can remember. We never starved in our house, but we always had to cut back since there were so many of us to feed. We can finally have a holiday where mum doesn't have to worry about cooking and then cleaning up after."
"Enjoy yourselves," Severus said with a nod. "I mean that sincerely."
Hermione nodded as well. "I am glad to know there are Weasleys who do not share the unfortunate mindset of your youngest brother—and sister."
"Well, Percy is quite the prize git, but we keep hoping he'll pull his head out of his arse and remember we're family," Charlie said. "At least he comes to holidays. There was a time there when he didn't even try to do that. I think maybe he finally realised how much work mum and dad put into making sure we never starved. They really did raise us right—I think that is why they are taking what they did to you so badly, Hermione."
Hermione shook her head. "I used to think 'What horrible parents could have raised someone like Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter?' but—I've realised that we make our own choices despite what our parents teach us and want for us. My parents wanted me to become a dentist or doctor, something in the medical field, just like them. Then I turned eleven and got a letter from Hogwarts. Their dreams sort of took a header off the nearest bridge after that."
Charlie smiled and then frowned a little. "Please, Hermione. I need to know if you hold my family against me in any way. I will do whatever I can to make up for it."
Hermione shook her head. "While I admit the name does cause me to cringe somewhat, even now, I do not hold the sins of one against the entire family unless it has been proven I should through their individual actions. Your twin brothers, Fred and George—they did what they could to mitigate my situation. But they, like the teachers, couldn't move against what they couldn't see—not like that anyway. How do you defend against an artefact? That's what they said it was—at the Wizengamot."
"Invisibility cloaks are pretty rare," Charlie said thoughtfully. "My brothers and I—we'd take the tablecloth and pretend it was a cloak. Mum and dad would pretend they couldn't see us. I never thought we'd ever see a real one."
"They brought in Amelia Bones to analyse the remains—she said that it was unlike all the others she had seen over the years. It was… one of the Hallows."
"An actual Hallow?!" Charlie said, eyes wide with astonishment. "Merlin! No wonder mum is freaking out. There are legends about the Hallows and what Death might do to curse those who would abuse his Hallows—objects that were never meant to stay in mortal hands in the first place.
The floo flamed to life. "Sestra, hope dis is right floo."
"Viktor!" Hermione cried, leaping off the couch. "Come in!"
"Bringing brothers, okay?"
Hermione exchanged glances with Severus. "Sure."
The tall Bulgarian Seeker stepped out of the floo carrying a pile of presents. "Congratulations, Sestra," Vikor said, placing down the packages just in time to scoop Hermione up into a hug and place a kiss on the back of her hand. "Little bird send word of your marriage."
More dark-haired wizards followed in after him, all wearing the Bulgarian Quidditch uniform. "Ah! Congratulations!" they cried, taking turns kissing the back of her hand.
"Now that mean boys no longer shipping us rotten eggs every time we owl you, does that mean we can visit more often?" they asked.
"Tired of pretending to hate you just to stop getting stinky mail," Viktor said. "Also, sorry for not making it to reception. Big game against Japan. Had to tie for hours so no one lose face."
"It's okay, Viktor, we didn't even realise there was going to be a big gathering until it snuck up on us," Hermione said with a smile. "We have plenty of leftovers! Please, help yourselves!"
The Bulgarians looked very happy to take them up on it, and as they all grabbed some food and sat down to socialise, Rowtag realised he had guests that were not being driven out by mum and dad. He crawled out of the nest and snuggled up next to Viktor and his teammates.
"Oh! You! Is darling," Viktor crowed and offered up a piece of steak.
Rowtag tenderly nipped it from his fingers and licked his chops.
Charlie gaped in amazement. "How are you taking this so well?"
"What? Baby dragon? Durmstrang take class on dealing with dragons because in past, some wizard liked to use them to terrify villages," Viktor explained with a sniff.
"Da," one of the others said, handing the dragonet a beef rib. "Babies easy to amuse. Bigger adults require more room and had to be kept outside. Raise them as babies as class project, then we train them to protect school."
"Dhey also help warm the school in vinter," another said with a wink.
"I should have gone to Durmstrang," Charlie bemoaned.
"Vatch dis, brother," the wizard with piercing blue eyes said with a grin. He tickled the horn buds on Rowtag, and the baby dragon wobbled and flopped on his back, purring like a cat. "Get dem every time."
Viktor laughed as they all introduced themselves to Severus, bowing formally in respect to his lair and home. Severus seemed oddly at ease, taking cues from Hermione that these wizards were acceptable company. By the time all of them were properly fed, Hermione and Severus had set up the guest chambers for them off the main bath, directing them to the shower, steam room, and the main baths for soaking until they looked more like raisins than men.
"It's odd hearing so much happiness and life in these caverns," Severus said, pulling Hermione close to him and burying his nose into her fragrant curls. "I am not complaining."
"I'm glad you like them, Severus," Hermione said with a grin. "They've been my penpals since fourth year. Harry and Ron tried their level best to drive them away, but Viktor knew, somehow, that what was going on was the result of someone's ill will. They couldn't do anything, but—it was nice to know someone cared despite it all. There were those like Neville who couldn't afford to be seen with me. His life was already hell with their pranks."
Severus pressed his hand to her cheek and smiled. "I am simply glad you are here, in this place, with me."
Rowtag head-bumped into his side. "Shirrkkk!"
"And you too, menace," he told Rowtag. "Why don't you go pester Charlie while he's in the springs?"
"Shreerrk?"
"Go give Charlie a nice hug, won't you love?" Hermione crooned.
The dragonet bounded out of the nesting chamber, and a large sploosh and a yell signalled his victory in finding Charlie in the hot springs.
"I'm going to wash today off of me, "Severus said, leaning down to give his new wife a kiss. "As well as scour the bathroom so it doesn't look like a bachelor has lived here alone for the past umpteen years."
"But, Severus," Hermione protested. "You were a bachelor for the past-MPH!"
He silenced her with a kiss. "Yes, but I really don't want you see what a slob that made me."
"I—fine. We shall agree to disagree," Hermione said with a sigh. "But I will file my official opinion that slob for you does not mean what others might think."
Severus looked down his impressive nose at her. "Hnn."
"I'll go clean myself off in the falls," Hermione said. "The waterfall feels wonderful on my skin. I'll just meander off, alone."
She kissed him on the nose and vanished out of the nesting chamber with a woosh, leaving Severus to contemplate the merits of doing what he had promised and saying 'to hell with it' and chasing after her.
Sighing, he reminded himself that there would be many evenings in which to share her company—and it wasn't like they were going to be able to snuggle alone anytime soon. He trudged toward the bath, pulling out his wand to set about scouring his bachelor's bathroom into something suitable for two.
Despite her wanting to feel the water on her back and her wings, Hermione decided to Apparate up to the top of the waterfall and enjoy the moonlight. A part of her was simply content to take in being somewhere peaceful at last, and the rest of her was taking in the feel of her new home—her shared home—with her drake. Unbeknownst to her, she had put in her bid to be his jenny by shedding tears in the center of his domain—and he had been on his way to clear up the misunderstanding shortly before being called to help with the curse of the Potter's trunk.
Perhaps, she thought, had it not happened like that, they would have had a longer courtship and a more subtle consummation. Maybe. Maybe not.
Hermione wasn't sure, but she was sure that when he touched her, she felt as though she had found what home really meant. That was even before—cough—they had made use of Mungo's private facilities to their advantage.
Hermione felt her cheeks flushing at the thought. She wasn't sorry about that as much as—well, she was glad she didn't have to go into details to her mum and dad on how she ended up married overnight.
Merlin, her parents!
Hermione wished, at least at that moment, that she could crawl into a large hole and die of embarrassment. Thankfully, her parents had a pretty solid "whatever, dear" policy with her. They didn't understand or really want to understand her magic. They were just glad she was happy wherever she was. She had put on a brave face for their sake, not wanting to worry them. Bringing a dragonet home for Christmas with a tall, dark, and very intense wizard might be pushing her luck, even if they did love her.
Convincing Rowtag not to eat the neighbour's yippy, annoying ankle-biter dog would've been hard too. She'd been tempted to cast a few spells on the dog to silence him or make him sound like wind chimes, but the fear of the trace had kept her from actually doing it.
That was probably the only reason the little blighter was still alive. Her mum had practically brained the little beast with her gardening trowel when he got loose and tried to take a bite out of her wrist, and her mum was practically patience incarnate.
As her senses calmed, she began to feel the boundary of her drake's territory, a combination of dragon magic and the thrum of their joined heartbeats. It was hard to explain—but she knew that without a doubt, any dragon who came calling would know the moment they crossed into claimed territory. Their life depended on it. Being human didn't seem to matter. They may have started out human, but now human was just a shape. Dragon is what they were, just as Minerva was pure feline.
Minerva had warned Hermione early on that the biggest risk facing those who rushed into the change was accidentally shifting too early, getting stuck, and then being consumed by their beast's instinctive mind. Somewhere out there were a number of animals that had once been human. Rumour had it that the whale the Muggles called "the loneliest whale in the world" was actually once a wizard who had failed to transform back.
Hermione could only shudder at the thought of such a terrible thing. Minerva had been a very kind and patient teacher. She had also been strict and exacting with regard to method and very concerned about maintaining proper safety measures. Her first meditations had always been carefully supervised until Minerva was absolutely certain that she was altering her state of magic and consciousness safely. Sure, her first shift hadn't exactly been planned in advance, much less had occurred in a safe environment, but she'd been mentally and magically prepared for it for months. Slipping into and out of her form once gained, was now as natural as breathing.
She appreciated Minerva even more, now that she had finally shifted successfully. She hadn't realised Animagi could be magical creatures, but Minerva sniffed and dismissed that as pure hogwash. A dragon, a hippogriff— those were natural creatures. It was only the more unusual things such as the Dementor and the Lethifold that seemed to defy the natural order of things. Those were not Animagi forms, and Hermione was quite glad of it.
Hermione shivered.
The thrum of her drake's lifeforce surrounded her, embracing her, soothing her, and she crooned softly. It felt good, this feeling—being a part of something bigger than herself. If she closed her eyes and let herself drift, she could feel his presence below her— even Rowtag's mischief as he stalked the Durmstrang men. It had been so good to see Viktor and the others again. She was glad they were undamaged by the "mischief" caused by Harry and Ron.
Severus.
Hermione hummed to herself. It felt good to have him close— to feel his wings surrounding her as his flames licked her scales. It felt right. She truly felt wanted, needed.
"So this is where Sev has been hiding himself away," a feminine voice broke into her thoughts with a clear note of scorn.
Hermione jolted with surprise. "Mrs Potter?"
"Tsk," Lily said shaking her head. "I'd rather not be associated with that name anymore." She rubbed her swollen belly. "He lied to me. He deserved what he got."
Hermione frowned. "How did you—?"
"You're terribly young," Lily said condescendingly. "Maybe Sev had to settle because he didn't have anything better on offer." She waved the invitation to the party. "Surely you know the traditional invitation trumps all wards? He invited me. I took it as a… sign."
"A— sign?" Hermione said with a frown.
"I've been having dreams, you know," Lily said, nodding sagely at her. "Since I became pregnant again. I didn't understand what they meant until recently. You see, back when we were younger, they wanted me to try and be an Animagus too, so I could be safe around Remus, but before I could finish, Remus was discovered and they were all punished for being illegal Animagi. I never finished the training. I figured, why bother when the reason was gone."
"But why come here? Why now?" Hermione took a step backward, unsure and wary.
Lily rubbed her belly. "I realised what my dreams meant. I realised I was ready to take what I should have back when James had me believing he was the only one loving me."
Hermione crinkled her nose, confused.
"He's always loved me first, you know," Lily said. "We have a history, and you are just some random waif of a girl, a barely grown girl at that, who thinks she can have something greater than she deserves just because she happens to be a winged beast."
Hermione winced, her mind succumbing to the fall from the sense of perfect completion she had thought was truly hers. If Lily had truly known Severus ever since they were— then he was much older than she was. Sure, she had her mastery, but did she really measure up to an experienced witch? Would Severus have even cared a lick about her if it hadn't been for their respective dragon-instincts?
Hermione's inner struggle must have shown plainly on her face, for Lily favoured her with a cruel smile of pure smug satisfaction.
"There, you see, girl? Such obvious doubt. Would there really be any doubt if you truly were meant for him?"
Hermione flinched. His eyes had been so full of sincerity when he looked upon her. He had called to her even when his body had been unmoving. Had it just been the dragon within that allowed such seemingly wondrous things? Was she truly a fool?
If there had been another female dragon around, would she have been just a secondary jenny to an established mated pair?
Pain traveled through her using the currents of doubt to send daggers of misery stabbing into her heart and mind. She placed her hand on her abdomen, remembering the soft brush of his warm wings, his attentive nips and flames upon her scales—but not of those actions had been the love of a man, only the mating of the dragons, the courtship of mindless beasts.
Surely that tenderness wasn't just instinctual?
"Has he even kissed you?" Lily asked. "Has he made you feel like a woman?"
Hermione flinched. He did kiss me, at the Vulcan. He did!
But this was supposed to be their first night together, part of her mind begged her to consider. He married you. He married YOU!
Because you were pregnant.
He kissed me before he went off to shower off the day. He was kind. Tender.
Hermione clutched her head. No, it couldn't be true. He was waiting. He was being such a gentleman. The dragons may not have had a choice but he did! Lily hadn't been around in years. Surely if she had been an old flame, there would have been some evidence?
Despair tugged at her.
What if it was true?
"What are you doing here, Lily?" Severus' low voice practically dripped venom and pure, simmering anger. He enveloped Hermione tightly in his arms, pulling her against him as he pressed his face into her wild hair.
Hermione gave a soft cry, clutching tightly to his robes as a she loosed a muffled cry of pain and despair.
"I do not recall inviting you to my home, Mrs Potter, nor have I given you permission to torture my wife with your poisonous lies."
"Lies?" Lily gasped, looking utterly affronted. "You invited me to your little charade. Did you think I wouldn't notice you had to do the honourable thing and marry the witch after you had your way with her in a— hospital, of all things?"
"Are you mad?" Severus hissed furiously. "Do you think I would marry anyone if I wasn't a hundred and fifty percent sure I truly wanted her and only her?"
"Did you tell her how it used to be all about us?"
Severus stiffened, his black eyes growing impossibly darker with fury. "Whatever boyhood loyalty I may once have had for you, Mrs Potter, faded a little bit more every single time you deliberately turned your gaze away as you ignored the sight of Potter and his friends gleefully torturing me. It faded still more every year when the invitation to my "wake" went unacknowledged and unattended. It disappeared entirely when the first thing you did upon seeing me alive was to slap me upside the face and loose a curse upon me, berating me all the while for leaving you ignorant of my survival. Which you would have known of had you paid even the slightest bit of attention, Mrs Potter."
Severus leaned down to brush Hermione's hair as he whispered into her ear. "Will you trust me? Hermione. My jenny. My heart."
Hermione looked up into his eyes, trembling. She nodded.
"Forgive me, for not being able to do this where the only one I wish to see is you," he whispered. He placed his hands in her hair, tilted her head to the side, and kissed her neck passionately.
Hermione groaned, trembling, and he held her body snugly against him. He looked down at her, purple flames flickering across his eyes. His mouth covered hers, tongue exploring her lips and beyond. He parted from her mouth, if only to breathe, his hot breath tickling her face.
"I love you," Severus said into her mouth, his nose brushing against hers as his eyes filled with his very soul. "You, and only you. No woman, no dragon for me but you. This I swear."
Lily's magic flared like a hot wind from her body. Rage and hatred merged together, forming into a destructive whirlwind of something unspeakably ugly and terrible. "I've done my research, Sev. Female dragons defeat other, younger females to take what is theirs." She rubbed her abdomen. "She may have everything to gain, but I have nothing left to lose."
Lily's body lurched over as her magic surged with a bright flash of glittering, rainbow-coloured light. She fell on all fours as her back writhed and twisted, bursting from her robes, exposing pale, pinkish-white skin. Bones shifted, cracked, and popped. Tendons stretched and pulled. Her hands bulged and twisted as scales formed over a soft, new, leathery hide. Veins bulged, showing blue under the almost translucent skin as it stretched over growing, shifting bones. Her arms locked strangely as she cried out, skin spreading between her arm and new, elongating bones. Her fingers were thickening, stretching as her index finger curled into a cruel hook and locked into the spur of a wing. Her fingers crackled and elongated, membrane stretching across and between the bones.
Lily's face twisted in a scream as a bony tail grew from the base of her spine. Muscles stretched over the bone as skin moved to cover the forming tail. Spines grew up from her back, creating a distinctive dorsal ridge. Her eyes bulged, transforming into strange, inhuman ovals with serpentine slits. Her face protruded, teeth growing strangely larger but not sharper. Her nose bulged out, nostrils flaring, as her face twisted into the muzzle of a Ukrainian Ironbelly.
Severus placed himself between Hermione and Lily, drawing his wand as he waited for Lily's body to catch up, making the inevitable growth into the larger, fiercer Ironbelly dragon— the one dragon that could give the Hebridean Black a run for its fierce drive and will with sheer massive size and hunger for violence.
"Hermione, change," Severus hissed. "We have to get her away from our lair. Away from Rowtag and your Bulgarian friends."
Hermione staggered back, allowing the change to consume her, her magic fluidly making her shift swift and flawless. Her great wings spread as she leapt into the air.
Lily snarled in rage, looking as if she was going to leap forward and let her size catch up with her, but Severus was there too— his great black wings pumping tornados of wind as his eyes glowed with seething purple fury. Flames leaked from his snout, and he bared his ivory teeth. Caustic saliva dripped from each tooth and fang.
He was ready.
He was willing.
He would fight to the death for his mate, his lair, his territory, and his dragonet— that which had already been born and that which hadn't been born yet.
He jerked back his head as Lily leapt for his face, and he loosed a torrent of bright flame—
Thump.
Skiiirrrrrraak?
The smoke cleared and Hermione landed right beside him, rubbing her muzzle against his, crooning her whale-like song. Severus curved his neck around hers, loosing flame against her scales, rumbling in comfort.
The two Hebridean Blacks stared into the clearing smoke and saw a human-sized Ukrainian Ironbelly miniature— cast in a shade of candy floss pink. Oversized, vivid green eyes stared out— almost human save for the reptilian slits. The dwarf dragon gave off a mighty, yet rather squeaky roar that sounded unnervingly like that of an automobile being crushed in a junkyard compactor being played backwards in a continuously rewinding cassette tape loop.
Hermione made a strange, rather interrogative sound, nudging the mini-dragon with her snout. Severus poked it with his tail.
"Hnnngnggggggh?" Severus rumbled.
"Heeeeeeeeeeeiiirrr?" Hermione replied.
The tiny dragon then began to sparkle in the moonlight, as if someone had poured a bucket of children's rainbow glitter all over her scales. "Skirp?"
Severus shook his massive head very slowly and plucked the tiny dragon up between his teeth and launched himself into the air, flying in a dive towards the entrance to the air, with Hermione flying close behind.
"Skiiiiiiirrrrp!" Rowtag pounced on the mini-dragon, happy to have someone to "play" with. The very tiny, very pink, mini-dragon cowered and piddled on the spot, leaving a small pool of pink-tinted fluid underneath herself.
"Even her pee has glitter in it," Hermione boggled.
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is not how I imagined my honeymoon turning out."
Green flames rose up from the floo, and Alastor Moody and Minerva McGonagall stepped out.
"Ach," Moody grunted. "I expected to find you both in the ecstatic throes of marital consummation."
"Not that I wouldn't like to be engaging in precisely that at present," Severus grumped, crossing his arms across his chest as Hermione blushed brightly.
"Oh my goodness," Minerva gasped. "What in Merlin's name is that?"
"That, my dear friend," Severus said slowly. "Is what used to be Lily Potter."
"What?" Minerva boggled.
Alastor and Minerva had their wands out and were waving them frantically.
"She's an Animagus?" Minerva asked. "When? She never once came to me requesting lessons."
Alastor shook his head. "It's no good. There's no one home in there." He tapped his temple. "The change consumed her with the— I can't help but feel wrong about calling it a dragon."
Rowtag pounced on Lily again, gnawing on her face and dragging her down to use his back legs to claw her belly as a kitten would play with another kitten— if a kitten had scales and scary claws.
Minerva let out a slow hiss of air. "I… I dunno what t'e call it. I mean her… She looks loch a dragon, aye, but she's pink. Huir uv a pink."
Alastor patted Minerva comfortingly on the back. "Yer brogue comes out when yoo're baffled, love," he said gently.
"Look 'oos talkin', laddie."
They smiled at each other.
"I guess I'll 'av to report it to the Animagus Registry and the DMLE, but she'll haf to go some'ere," Alastor said a bit dubiously.
"Despite our young dragonet's desires," Severus commented. "I would rather not have another dragon— especially one that was formerly Mrs Potter— in my lair. Who knows what horrible things she could teach our little Rowtag?"
Minerva snorted with some amusement. "Surely someone could— Amelia perhaps?"
Alastor snorted. "The last thing the DoM needs is a pink dragon eating up more resources."
Charlie rubbed his hair and stared at the pink miniature dragon. "I'm not even sure what she is. I mean, she sort of looks like a Ukrainian Ironbelly, but she's distinctly pink, which is not natural. She's glittery. That is definitely not right for them, and— she has dull, even fragile teeth. I'm pretty sure she couldn't crack a bone even if she wanted to, and tearing flesh off a carcass—"
Hermione stared. "It's almost as if she willed herself into what you might see in a children's book."
"What?"
"Muggle children's books often depict ferocious things in insufferably cute ways to make them more—" Hermione searched for words.
"Insufferable?" Severus asked.
Hermione snorted. "Loveable. Huggable. And disturbingly cute."
Charlie boggled. "That explains the huge eyes, useless teeth, and equally useless wings. It's like Rowtag's wings only we know when Rowtag gets bigger, his wings will too."
"So, this is some childhood imprint of a dragon?" Minerva asked.
"I mean, in some ways she's like a real dragon, but it didn't quite, erm—" Hermione just sat down, scratching her head.
"For a moment— Lily was in there," Severus said grimly. "She was positively murderous. She wanted blood. In that moment, I knew she wanted Hermione dead so that she could usurp her position with me, like two warring jennies."
"Twisted."
Severus nodded. "If she had even managed that feat, I would not have accepted her. I do not believe her mind was entirely stable or intact. That she came here to challenge Hermione at all proves that."
"She truly thought your history together as children was stronger than a sudden mating bond with me," Hermione said, shaking her head in disbelief.
"She was a fool," Severus growled. "Had she actually known me at all, she would have realised that I never do anything lightly. My dragon doubly so."
"Well, she did her own self in, laddie," Minerva said with a sigh. "Once an Animagus is lost to the shift, there is simply no getting them back. It's part of why the Animagus Registry was created in the first place. It wasn't solely to police our own, but to make sure all would-be Animagi learned safely."
"Preaching to the choir, Minerva," Severus said with a smile tugging insistently at his lips.
"Well, once your get the official stuff done, I think I can take her back to the sanctuary," Charlie said. "She's a bit high-maintenance due to her inability to feed herself, but the bigger dragons leave plenty of tiny scraps that do absolutely nothing for them. For her, however, well, it would be beneficial." Charlie ruffled his shaggy red hair. "I think she could help bring more visitors to the sanctuary, maybe get us some additional exposure and funding. Most people don't bring their kids with them to a dragon sanctuary, at least not ours. We don't have the smaller dragons. We have Hungarian Horntails. They aren't, quite, um… family-friendly material."
Rowtag crawled over to snuggle Charlie, having given up on engaging the pink dragon in play. He let loose an unsatisfied harrumphing sound.
"Not playing with you, is she, little guy?" Charlie chuckled.
Rowtag huffed, clearly unimpressed.
"I know what can cheer him up," Hermione said. She lifted her hair and pulled out a small fluffy spider, which with a silent spell, became a much larger fluffy spider.
"Oh hi!" the spider squeaked.
"Want to play with Rowtag?"
The spider peered down at the very interested dragonet. "Good thing I'm pretty much indestructible!"
The spider jumped off her hand, gliding down on a string of silk and landed with a squeak.
Rowtag perked.
"Catch meeeee!" the spider cried, zooming across the room in a blur of multiple skittering legs. Rowtag romped after him excitedly.
Charlie stared at Hermione.
"What?" Hermione said, frowning slightly.
"Where in the world did you—"
"One of my wedding gifts," Hermione told him. A few spiders poked out of her hair and stared at Charlie, quivering. "It's ok. I'm not letting him steal you."
"Phew!"
"Ok!"
"Thank goodness."
They dove back into her hair.
Charlie mumbled something about needing to go get married himself.
Severus snorted. "I rather doubt if it works that way."
Charlie crossed his arms. "Well, that's hardly fair."
Minerva smiled. "Well, I will take care of the Animagus Registry end, Alastor, if you will take care of the DMLE, yes?"
Alastor sniffed. "Aye, I will. Time for you two to get some rest. Charlie? If you would take care of, er… Mrs Potter?"
Charlie nodded. "Sure thing."
Alastor put a hand on Severus' back and smiled. "We'll take care of things from here, lad. I think you two have been through quite enough. And on your own wedding night at that."
Severus gave Alastor a tired smile. "Thank you."
"See ye in the morning, lass," Minerva said, kissing Hermione fondly on the cheek.
"Thanks, Minerva," Hermione said with a blush.
The Auror and Headmistress disappeared into the floo, and Charlie stunned Lily, or what was Lily, and prepared her for Apparition. "Goodnight, you two. I will let you know how she's settling in."
As the floo died down, Severus took his wife into his arms and pressed a kiss to her mouth. "Now where we?"
Hermione lured his husband over to the bed as she waved her hand and all the lights went out.
"Oh," Severus said with a rumbling purr. "Yesssss… "
"Up, daddy, up!"
Severus stared down at his two-legged spawn with a somewhat tortured look in his eyes. He pulled her up and set her down on top of the pink dragon at the dragon preserve's small petting zoo.
Hermione chuckled as she looped her arm with his.
They watched as their excited daughter squealed and kicked her legs and generally made horrible life choices when it came to anything but animals. Her most favourite colour in the world, at least that week, was pink, so everything she wore had to be very pink. Her hair barrettes, her blouse and trousers, and even her travelling cloak and dragonhide boots were all pink and glitter.
Hermione tried very hard not to hide her visceral desire to hurl upon seeing her daughter looking like she had climbed straight out of Dolores Umbridge's wardrobe. Severus, on the other hand, wore his disgust applied directly to his forehead— the wrinkles there furrowed into a marked crease of pure disgust.
Kaida, however, was utterly immune to her father's rancor and her mother's disapproval. Every time she visited her Auntie Minerva and spent far too much time with her Uncle Hagrid, they indulged her horrible choice in colours no matter how loud and obnoxious they might be. She could pretty much get away with murder, or so the Hogwarts staff said. She could even dress up Mrs Norris in rose-coloured ribbons and paint her nails a sparkly shade of pink and get away with it.
It was either an unmistakable sign of the coming apocalypse or that she was just far too plucky for words.
While she spent her days learning from human or centaur, in the evenings she she went to "dragon school" and learned hunting and play from her parents or her big brother, Rowtag— who never let her get into trouble on his watch. Eventually, Hermione and Severus would see her off to Hogwarts, but that day was still several years off. For now, they indulged her curious little mind as much they could, and tried not to choke on her budding fashion sense, or, rather, the lack thereof, if you listened to Severus.
Rowtag, on the other hand, was growing into a fine specimen of a young male dragon, but thanks to his loving adopted parents, the drive to pick fights and strike out to beat up others to find his own place in the world just didn't happen. He was perfectly happy to keep right on sharing territory with his parents, guarding the centaur lands as well as his parents', and curling up with mum and dad whenever they allowed him— a pile of wings and tails and long, entwined necks.
Hermione and Severus knew that, eventually, Rowtag would feel the pull to find a mate of his own, but, for the moment, the drive wasn't there. They weren't going to push him. They had learned long ago that they would treasure what they had for as long as it continued to be there.
From time to time, Charlie would bring them hard luck cases, and they would help raise them. Rowtag was always the dutiful big brother, and would show them all the ropes: what not to touch, where the best sleeping spots were, how to get mum and dad to cuddle you under their wings, and how not to get swatted on the sensitive nose by Moron. It was the important things, after all.
But while the others returned to the sanctuary with Charlie, Rowtag remained unique, perhaps truly their son in all but blood, or more their son than blood could bring. Hermione and Severus were happy when he was near, and that was all that Rowtag cared about.
While Kaida wanted to hurry up and get to Hogwarts, their dragon son seemed to take everything at, well, a dragon's pace. Things would happen as they did, and he didn't have to chasing it to find trouble. Kaida wanted to find trouble snout or face first, and it was often Rowtag bringing her back (covered in mud) or depositing her disobedient self in front of a disapproving dragon parent.
As Kaida clung to the saddle of the miniature dragon, however, Hermione leaned into Severus' arm and sighed happily, content that while she was a handful, Kaida was a healthy young lady. Her accidental magic did absolutely nothing to dragon scales, much to their relief, and she was developing like a typical girl her age. Thanks to playtimes with Draco's son, Scorpius, Theo's son, Edmund, and Blaise's daughter, Bernadette, Kaida was quick on her feet and her mental toes. Rowtag would often give them glorious rides over the forest canopy, much to their combined delight, and they would all spend at least a few days a week learning from the centaurs along with the foals.
Life was, as far as the Snape family was concerned, far better than merely fine.
A strobe light flashed, and Kaida squealed happily, clutching a magical photograph in her hand of her riding the little pink dragon. Hermione and Severus exchanged glancing, knowing their child would want it, take it home, and add it to her ever-growing picture hoard that equalled Rowtag's beloved shiny gemstone collection. You could take the dragon out of the forest, but not out of the heart of the child.
Severus surreptitiously handed the photographer a galleon to pay for the photo, knowing that all the proceeds went to feeding and tending the dragon sanctuary. Charlie had worked very hard to make the place fun for young visitors while also benefitting the larger sanctuary around them.
"Mummy, Daddy!" Kaida said, tugging on their sleeves together. "Can we go see Uncle Charlie and Auntie Ingrid?"
"Eeee!" the plush spiders dove back into Hermione's hair at the mention of Charlie, who, til that very day, still had not given up trying to kidnap one of their number for his own use.
"I suppose so," Severus said, pressing a tender kiss to his wife's temple. "What say you, my beloved jenny wife?"
Hermione smiled up at him, her face beaming brightly. "Anywhere you wish to go, my darling drake," she said warmly.
Severus pressed a kiss to her mouth, chaste and light, his black eyes sparkling with sheer happiness.
With an unspoken signal, they both took to the air, snatching their girl-child up in their claws and tossing her back and forth between them as they flew up to the highest peak where Charlie and his wife awaited them.
"EEEeeeeeeeeeee! AGAIN!" Kaida cried out in glee. "YAY!"
And they all lived happily ever after.
(Except for Lily-dragon who couldn't quite convince the larger, sexy full-sized Ukrainian Ironbelly that she was the perfect mate for him and the goldfish at Hogwarts which was convinced that everyone was out to get him)
Fin.
(Plush spiders shuffle onto scene)
"All's well that ends well!"
"Except for the pink one."
"Wait, which pink one?"
"That one." (leg points)
"Ooooooo. Righto!"
"She deserved it."
"Yup!"
"We deserve hugs!"
"Yes!"
"Wait, what happened to her baby?"
"You mean her egg?"
"Yeah that."
"It hatched into a really big pink goldfish."
"..."
"That'll teach you, folks! Friends don't let friends jealously transform into a toy dragon Animagus!"
"Rule for life, that one!"
"Yup!"
"I want apple cider."
"Ooo, great idea."
"Tally-ho!"
"Eeee!"
(Highly caffeinated spider zooms across the scene.)
"Ni-ni!" (waves forelegs cheerfully)
"Thanks for reading!" (spider cheer)
The curtain drops.
(A fuzzy spider with a tiny bucket over its head runs into the curtain with a thump)
The curtain rises a little. "This way, Bucket!"
(The spider disappears beneath it and the curtain falls again.)
Finis
