A/N: Some of you seemed to want a little more closure in the ending, even though I thought it was a clearly happier ending than say, Severus and Hermione never reuniting. Soooo…. I give you a peek into the end… or perhaps I should say, the beginning…
Beta: Story Please
Coldness in the Leaves : Chapter 2: Epilogue
"Cherish those who seek the truth, but beware of those who find it." —Grimm
Hermione was never so glad of Viktor's corrupting influence of wearing fur lined robes as she was walking in a particularly hostile part of Bulgaria. The weather was always so cold, that the locals said that even in the summer the snow would fall just to spite anyone daft enough to think they were free of it.
It had been over five decades since her husband had died, and Hermione was only now finally coming to terms with it. She had lived a good life in his honour; taught many new generations of wizards and witches in the hopes of preventing what had happened to him from ever happening again. She had placed a single rose on her husband's grave every year on their wedding anniversary instead of the anniversary of his death. She had gotten smashed with his Bulgarian friends in a manner that was more Viktor's than her own, but it had always been a celebration of what Viktor had meant to them. Even decades after his death, they still looked upon him fondly. They had all supported her as well, knowing that part of her had wanted to crawl into an early grave so that she too could follow him..
Keep your friends close, Mr. Mulder. Keep your enemies closer.
Hermione gave a humourless smile. Muggle television often got a lot of things right without realising it. Perhaps, some of the writers were far more in tune with the world than they let on. Some of them did, she suspected. Others, much like typical human beings, had issues telling fantasy from reality.
She had never managed to reconcile with the other two thirds of the Golden Trio. Ginevra, despite being her best female friend from school, did what most people who have to live with their spouse did, and kept out of it. Hermione didn't blame her, not really. There had been a time when all she focused on was coming home to see Viktor's smug smile when he returned with yet another Quidditch trophy, present, reward, or whatnot. He had done very well for himself as a Dark Magic tracker as well. Unfortunately, that had been his demise. He could never turn away from helping those in need, so when Ron and Harry had asked for his help, he had gone to help at once.
They had thought it would be just a standard flush and catch operation. They had thought him merely a less-than-average Dark Wizard, so they didn't bother waiting on the intel coming back from their agents.
They were wrong.
The man had been raising basilisks. He had more than twenty toads sitting on eggs in his underground hide-away. Many more of the hatchlings all the way to full-grown basilisks were lurking around in the dark. They hadn't counted on the fact that Basilisks did not register on traces for Dark magic. Despite their danger, they were not truly a Dark creature. They were simply a very high-level predator that ate anything smaller than they were. Viktor had died instantly under the glowing gaze of multiple basilisks. They hadn't even been able to fetch his body because one of the Aurors on the team panicked and set the place on fire with Fiendfyre. All that had been left of Viktor Krum had been the Fiendfyre-proof family heirloom he had pinned on his collar and his enchanted wedding ring.
The Ministry had returned them to her when she had come home to an empty house. The stress of the following drama had caused her to miscarry just as she'd reached the second trimester. All she had left of her husband was memories. Eventually, after Severus Snape's "disappearance" for the second time, she had replaced her desire for children of her own by teaching the children of the Wizarding world. She had developed a tight relationship with Minerva McGonagall, and when the time came to pass the mantle of Headmistress on, no one had questioned Minerva's choice..
Rita Skeeter had attempted to stir up trouble for Hermione when Snape had disappeared that fateful night so long ago. Attempted was the key word there. Hermione, having had lost any semblance of tolerance for Skeeter's shenanigans, marched over to the Animagus Registry and reported Rita with a laundry list of her crimes done while disguised as a beetle. Hermione, having trusted Rita about as far as she could have thrown her, had placed a tracer of her own making upon her. Every time Rita changed her form, a log book she had stashed away in her vault in Gringott's recorded where she had been. It had taken the Wizengamot to all of twenty minutes to convict her of a laundry list of crimes. Hermione, in light of the "good" she had done in bringing Rita's crimes to light, was pardoned, and no reporter afterwards dared lift a quill against her.
Now, her life lived in honour of her beloved Viktor, she was ready to move on, and she was ready to make good on the promise she had made to one Severus Snape back in the Room of Requirement all of those years ago.
"I can feel myself slipping away when you are gone, Madam Krum," Severus confessed. "I do not know how long we can keep this up."
"As long as I know where you are, Professor," Hermione replied, "and as long as I am able to, I will stay at your side."
Severus stared at her, his human eyes staring at her through a bestial face. "Why do you help me, Madam Professor Krum? You owe me no kindness. I expect no kindness."
Hermione laid her hand on his, her touch giving him the ability to reconnect to his more human mind. "Because I know what it is like to be forgotten once your usefulness is no longer needed."
He stared at her and then closed his eyes.
They had said nothing more on the matter. He did not protest her being there, and she came to him every night to keep him in touch with his humanity. There had been a warmth there, despite his condition, even a tenderness. It had lasted until he had left her. It was only later she realised that Harry and Ron would have brought in the Hit Wizards to "deal with Snape's condition" the very next day instead of helping her work on why her presence focused him. They had signed off on his being incurable without much thought. Perhaps, they had been right, but Hermione could never forgive them. It was just one more sin they could never atone for.
Hermione moved deeper into the woods the locals called the "Forest of the Demon." It had been tales of this particular patch of forest that had caught her attention over the years. She hadn't been sure until there had been an incident where some Muggle poachers had walked into the place hoping to do some hunting and came out babbling about demons. The demon part wasn't what got her attention. It had been the description of the demon that had told her all she needed to know.
All attempts to find Severus Snape after his "escape" had been met with failure. He had hidden himself away very effectively, at least until he tipped his hat by driving the poachers out of the forest. For someone who had never stopped looking, it was all Hermione had needed.
The walk into the forest was exhausting. The terrain, even in the depths of the forest where the underground was few and far between, was a natural barrier. It was the perfect place. Sounds of a healthy forest full of creatures were loud and varied throughout her trek. She knew, however, that she'd been found when the noises stopped.
A low growl rumbled from the air above her and a dark shape descended upon her. Hot breath seemed to scald the skin off of her face from multiple angles. Claws dug into her robes, exposing her skin and pressed into it without rending her flesh. Huge wings unfurled as glistening teeth were bared in her face, their number taking up her field of vision. Her hair twisted wildly behind her as the beast scented her face.
A deep, reverberating growl echoed in her ears, but she did not struggle.
"Hhhhh—" the monster said, the sound like the rasp of sandpaper over wood. "Hhhher...mio...ne?" His cool nose pressed into the skin of her neck. A long, black, sinuous tongue slipped out to lick at her neck desperately. "You… came."
"I promised I would, Severus," she replied sadly. "I never stopped hoping you would reappear. I half expected to see you, standing on the ramparts, staring out over Hogwarts so many times."
The beast breathed heavily, his wings wrapped around her, pulling her to him. "Hermione," he managed to say clearly, his fangs shrinking back into his muzzle. "Couldn't...couldn't turn back. Stuck. Like this. A monster." He nuzzled her neck, running his tongue over her skin as though to reassure himself that she was there.
Hermione touched his muzzle, her eyes half closed as the exhaustion of her trek combined with the warmth of his body filled her with contentment. He cradled her against him like a lover, his wings protectively entwined around her body. It made her feel safe. No one other than Viktor had been able to give her that sense of peace. Until that moment, she hadn't realised how much she missed that comfort.
His tongue laved her neck gently, tenderly grooming her. His instincts were mixed despite his being able to reason like a human in her presence. He and the beast were together in their need to reassure himself that she was real.
"M—missed you," he rasped. "Never forgot. Touch. Your touch. Your scent." His nostrils flared. Venomous drool dripped from his exposed teeth. Muscles moved under his slick, black, slime-covered skin.
Hermione stared into his black eyes. No whites remained to indicate some semblance of humanity, yet it was obvious that some part of Severus Snape remained inside the beastly body.
"I've missed you, too," she confessed.
Somehow, in the short time they had spent together, they had formed a genuine emotional connection, and it had remained, even though many decades had passed.
She closed her eyes as his talon-like hand touched her face, his long claws curving around her head as one might cradle a valuable vase. Her hands traveled down his muzzle, exploring the changes that had claimed him. He remained perfectly still, a soft, almost imperceptible growl of pleasure emanating from his throat. Her fingers traveled down his arms and explored his taloned hands, examining the rough pads on the bottom of his fingers and the deadly talons themselves. "You're a chimera," she said softly. "A combination of things that should not exist together, yet…"
"I do… exist," he replied. "Many times I have tried not to, but this body does not permit it." His tone was matter of fact. There was no sadness, only resignation.
Hermione clasped his thumb with her hand, her small hand seemingly tiny in comparison to his one digit. "I should have found you sooner. I am so—"
"No!" he said adamantly. "You deserved a long human life. You deserved to leave your mark on the human world." His body shuddered and seemed to fold in on himself. He looked up at her, the black of his eyes concentrated in the pupil and iris alone, his skin as pale and hairless as it had been before the change.. The shape of the beast was gone.
"I made my choice, Hermione," his low, human voice seemed musical in comparison to that of the beast. "As much as both beast and man wanted nothing more than to take you with me—protect you from those who had forsaken you, it still would have been wrong."
"You haven't aged a day," Hermione said with wonder, her hand touching his face. Her eyes shimmered with emotion.
Severus' eyes met hers. There was a sadness there. "Nightmares do not age. They merely grow more frightening the more the stories are told.."
"You're not a nightmare, Severus," Hermione replied. "You are not some creature that lurks in closets and under the bed or a boogeyman that steals children from their beds at night. You are here, now, talking to me."
Severus gave a grim smile, his teeth growing sharper than what is usual for a human being. "To some, I am far worse."
Hermione gave him a humourless smile. "You protect this forest from Muggle and Wizarding folks alike. I've heard the stories of the great demon who drives intruders and poachers from the land."
"The drive is strong," he admitted, "to build a home… protect it. The beast waits for a female, but he's too thick to realise he's the only one of his kind. I know better than to thinkthere is some compatible female Death Eater who managed to get cursed with the exact conditions of accidental magic as I was." He laughed dryly. "Not that I would want anyone like Bellatrix Lestrange. Even if the alternative is… loneliness."
Hermione's pressed her hand against his wrist, her thumb rubbing against his skin until he purred softly. "You will never have to be alone again, Severus."
His head shot up, conflicted emotion causing his face to twist into a half-muzzle. "But...if you stay with me, the taint—"
Hermione touched his half-formed muzzle tenderly. "I lived my long, lonely life, Severus. I taught and guided countless children, and I left my mark on the future, but there wasn't one day I felt as I feel when I'm with you. I've had over five decades to come to terms with Viktor's death and losing you that dreadful night. I have made my decision.."
"It would change you; corrupt you!" he protested, his fingers caressing her cheek softly as the tips grew dark and his nails grew pointed.
"No more than it has changed you, Severus. You are not some mindless beast. Your form before me is proof enough of that." she reasoned.
"Perhaps, I am a mindful beast, Hermione," Severus replied, raising an eyebrow, "but a beast none the less."
"And yet, here we are having this conversation," Hermione countered, "proving you are more than that."
Severus looked haunted. "This form… it will fade again."
"And I will be here to bring you back," Hermione said firmly.
"You sound so sure," he said, his eyes doubtful.
"Whatever happens, Severus," she replied gently. "I trust you."
"Can you ever truly trust a beast, though?" Severus whispered, his hands twisting into talons as the pads of his monstrous digits gently pressed into her cheek.
Hermione pressed her palm to his transforming talons. "He hasn't harmed me yet, and neither will you." Hermione's teeth chattered slightly as the cold in the forest prompted her to to nudgecloser to Severus' warmth.
He enfolded her with his arms. "Come," he invited. "My… home is not far from here. It will be warmer. Safe."
Hermione nodded. She cast a warming charm over her robes, but the cold was harsh, and it merely muted the freezing wind.
He led her carefully, seemingly randomly into the wilderness towards his home.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Years passed, and Hermione and Severus became closer. Severus' lair in the woods expanded to be more comfortable for Hermione, and while he did eventually revert to a beastly state, as long as she remained with him in his adopted territory, he retained his mind.
He had crafted a living lair, lining the living areas with plants and mosses to allow for her comfort, and Hermione did not complain. She mused that if Pomona Sprout could spend one hour studying the intricate plants and enchantments he had woven together simply for Hermione's comfort, she would have squealed in delight and wanted to stay forever.
Severus gathered a variety of glowing night plants to aid Hermione's vision, collected the softest mosses and grasses to line the bed they shared, and guided multiple natural springs to provide fresh cold water for drinking and heated springs water for bathing without the need for magic.
Hermione lined the lair with an uncountable number of books, pulling more and and more from her beaded bag as room allowed. They researched together, attempting to find the magical key in her presence that allowed Severus to remember himself, but as the years passed, it became clear that whatever it was, it could not be replicated in a potion or a spell. Hermione was the key, and whatever balance existed in her inherent magic was hers alone. She chose to give herself to Severus, and he cherished every moment she gave him.
Sometimes, they would sit together; one human witch and one almost-human wizard. Sometimes it would be one human witch and one very inhuman beast, but despite how it may have appeared to the passing bird or curious squirrel, both the man and the beast took care of her as best they could.
Hermione asked for little, enjoying both silent companionship and more theoretical conversation. Work on curing him fell to the wayside as contentment replaced the frantic search for viable treatment. As happy and stable as their relationship became, Severus began to notice a slowing in her movements, a subtle change in her reaction time, and an even more subtle silvering of her hair. She rose a little slower in the mornings, preferring the warmth of his body against hers to the cold outside. The magic of the forest had turned the area into perpetual autumn. Severus had mused that the forest knew Hermione loved autumn and had molded itself into what she loved best. Hermione had laughed, scoffing at the idea that a forest would craft itself in the image of her personal preferences.
Severus, however, knew better. She had become someone so important to him that both he and the beast wanted nothing more than to wake each day with the warmth of her body nestled against their shared body..
But Severus could not deny that Hermione was aging. She did not look it, her magic keeping her preserved as it did most wizards and witches, but he could not help but see the slight tremble in her hands, the increased time it took for her to remember where she had placed her favourite mug, and the struggle that sometimes came upon her when she couldn't remember that her parents had long since died. To his relief, his presence seemed to gift to her what hers did for him. As long as she was with him, she remembered herself, just as he remembered himself. The irony was not lost in him. What pained him the most was the realisation that she would no longer be able to leave him on trips to the outside world without losing her way unless he accompanied her, but his ability to maintain a human form was sadly too unstable to be reliable.
As he gazed upon her, curled up against him as though it were the most natural thing in the world, snuggling against his bestial body without discomfort or horror, he knew she was the only one that mattered. She was the only one that would ever matter, and one day, that place would be empty. Her spot beside him as they watched the sunset would be unoccupied forever, and he would be alone again. Severus touched her forehead with his half-talons, a soft croon coming from his throat. "Hermione," he whispered.
Hermione's eyes opened slowly, she stared up at him with sleepybrown eyes. "Morning already?" she whispered.
"It's evening," he replied, "Almost sunset."
"Sunset? Severus!" Hermione chided. "What have I told you about letting me sleep in like some old lady by the fire."
Severus smiled somewhat, flashing a hint of inhuman fangs. "Perhaps, I simply wish you to be comfortable."
Hermione touched his cheek and snorted. "I'm always comfortable when I'm with you, my love," she confessed. An odd expression crossed her face. "I think I need to use the loo, however. That is uncomfortable."
Severus extended a hand to her. He walked with her for a time until she turned and stared at him with an amused expression. "It's to the loo, love, not across the forest. I do not need an escort."
Severus looked sheepish, which was an odd look on a half-bestial face. "I'll be here… if you need me."
Hermione shook her head. She placed a hand to his cheek and smiled. "Save the sunset for me, Severus. I'll join you soon."
Severus nodded, his expression transformed to worry as she made her way along the path they had made together. Aging was a part of life. He was no stranger to it, yet, somehow he was now immune to the ravages of time. Hermione, however, was not. He trudged towards the spot where they watched the sunset together every evening. The brightly coloured leaves were rattling on the trees, sending the scent of damp loam and petrichor directly into his nostrils. It was Hermione's favourite scent, and she would often sit on the hill after a good rain and point her nose up, simply scenting the air with a smile on her face. She claimed that he often smelled the same, which was why she enjoyed it.
Severus' nostrils flared and he bolted upright. He smelled blood. It was Hermione's blood. He leapt up, his transformation into the beast was automatic, and he embraced it, knowing it would take him to her faster. He bounded over the rocks and brush and launched into the air, diving between the trees towards the scent.
Skidding to a halt beside Hermione's crumpled form, he saw what had happened. Her ankle was twisted and the sapling she had used to steady herself had bent instead of holding her weight. Her palms were bloody where they had stopped her fall in the rocks. Her head was bleeding where she had hit her head, a trickle of her blood ran down her temple.
"Hermione!" Severus crooned, cradling her in his lap. His tongue lapped her forehead and palms as his instincts told him to offer comfort.
"I'm such a useless muck-up," Hermione complained. "I can't even walk up my own trail." She laid her head against his chest, her hand clutching his fur. "Getting old is for hippogriffs."
Severus let out his breath slowly, pressing his muzzle into her hair and inhaling deeply. His wings enveloped her.
Stay with me, he wanted to say. Be my mate.
Instead he said, "Must I light every path for your silly human eyes?"
Hermione smiled up at him. "They aren't getting any sharper, youngin'."
Severus scoffed. "I'm older than you are."
"Technicalities," she answered. "I have more grey hair."
"Psh," Severus replied.
Hermione leaned into Severus' embrace. "I'm sorry, Severus," she whispered into his fur. "I'm just a frail mortal after all. I really wanted to… last longer."
He trembled slightly. "S—stay with me, Hermione. Please."
"See? That wasn't so hard, was it, love?" Hermione smiled at him serenely. Her eyes closed slowly.
Severus hissed. Dark black fluid like the deepest ink oozed down his arm, the taint that had reshaped him creeping slowly towards Hermione's skin, inching ever closer.
"Are you sure, Hermione?" he asked, his hand caressing her face with the pads of his talons. "You may not survive it."
Hermione's brown eyes flickered with warmth. "We've had a good life, Severus. If Fate is kind, it will judge me worthy of you."
Severus felt Hermione's body tense as the blackness of his curse met her wounds. He whined softly.
"Stay with me," Hermione whispered as the convulsions began to take her. "Will you stay with me?"
"Always," he breathed the reply, caressing her hair.
Hermione's body began to shake, pain spreading through her blood as the taint worked through her bloodstream. She screamed in agony, spine arching, hands curving, and foam frothing from her mouth.
Tears trickled down Snape's muzzle as his wings curled around her body, embracing her tightly against himself.
"I'm here," he crooned the mantra over and over. "I'm here."
Hermione's body went still in his embrace as black liquid oozed from her nose, mouth, and eyes.
Severus whined, nosing her with his muzzle as a keening noise escaped his throat. He nudged her with his snout—once, twice, three times in succession. His body shuddered and he clutched her body to his, tilted back his head, and howled.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Severus didn't move until dawn. He clutched Hermione's still body to him through the night, unable and unwilling to let go of her. He cradled her, knowing that soon she would wake and wish to watch the sunrise with him. It was their morning ritual.
Hermione. His Hermione.
He pressed his muzzle to her hair and inhaled her scent. She had been his anchor and beacon in the darkness. She had lived a long life, the end of which she had been content at his side. Surely that should bring him some comfort?
He carried her up the path to the hill where they had watched so many sunrises and sunsets together.
Just one more time, he would watch the sunrise with his Hermionewhile his humanity was still with him—his sliver of sanity.
He sat on the hill, draping Hermioneover his lap as she had always done before.
The sun rose slowly, casting golden beams across the foggy hills and forest canopy.
"It's beautiful, Hermione. The fog is thick like a blanket, just the wayyou like it." His eyes watched the rays dance across the treetops but they were unfocused as he tried not to stare at her still chest.
Suddenly, Hermione took a deep breath; her hands grasping the wing that Severus had wrapped around her to keep her warm.
Severus froze, his eyes flicked down to look towards his lap.
Two pure black eyes stared into his—the eyes of the beast staring back at him.
"Hermione?" he breathed, his heart skipping a beat.
Her now padded and clawed hand wrapped around his. "Good morning, love," she purred.
Severus pressed his muzzle against hers, his tongue lapping the side of her changed face.
"I love you," he managed to say, his voice caught in a half growl.
Hermione smiled, twisting her new muzzle in a strange parody of a smile, She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face to his chest.
"I love you too," she whispered.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
A/N: Unfortunately I managed to catch the stomach flu over the weekend, and I'm now feeling the horrible effects of it.
