Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard.
A/N: Thank you for your understanding about my busy life. I read all your comments and it gives me great relief. Thank you all.
Born Unto Darkness
A Crackfic by Corvus Draconis
Chapter Four
In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present. Francis Bacon
Hermione woke to a soft hissing and tickle as a small tongue hit her ear.
"Mmmph," she said, snuggling tighter to Grandfather. "Just a few more minutes, mum."
Hermione yawned and attempted to sit up, wobbling a little with sleep. The cubs complained that their snuggle buddy was moving, mrowling and fussing their complaints. Grandfather soothed her hair with one of his hands, and she smiled as she leaned into him.
"Oh, you're back," she said. "Did everything go well?"
The Dementor hissed and shook his head slightly.
"Oh, well— at least it didn't end badly." Hermione made a face, unsure if her master would be in a good or bad mood after that description of events. She'd committed a "bad decision" on a logical scale, even if it had ended well afterwards.
A tickling sensation on her ear startled her. Her hand went to her neck and she jolted with surprise. "Oh, hello, what's your name?"
The ball python hung her head, scales seemingly dulling, the mixture of gold ochre and brown-blacks taking a hazy appearance.
"Aw, that's ok. I can give you a name if you don't remember."
The serpent perked, scales less dull.
"Hrm, how about Tanith? It means serpent lady in Phoenician. You're a serpent and a lady, so—"
Tanith hissed her approval, nodding her head.
"It must be hard not remembering who you are, but, I mean, if you want to, you can build a new life with us."
The python rubbed her head against Hermione's skin and then curled up around her neck again.
"I guess that's a yes," Hermione chuckled to herself. She moved her head from side to side to get the kinks out of her muscles and let out a deep sigh. She managed to wriggle out of the bed from between the beasts and stood. Tesfaye licked her palm and let her know she was hungry, and Hermione nodded.
Hermione pulled out her beaded bag and from that pulled out a small, hoarfrost covered box. She opened it, pointing her wand at it. "Finite Incantatem!"
She tumbled backwards as the huge ribcage of something gargantuan filled up half the room. "Oof. I forgot that one was bigger than the others."
Using her wand, she sliced the cage down the middle, giving one side to the Nundu family and one to the Volcanic Nightmares. Tesfaye and Aine pulled their pieces over to the sides and proceeded to munch away as their babies growled and fought over the other ribs— comically so due to the immense size of the ribs. There was enough for everyone and then some.
She cut off one of the large "extras" that was dangling off a broken piece of rib and found Fenrir waiting for her, tail wagging as he silently awaited his share of dinner.
She set it down in front of him and gave him a hug, patting him down and checking his teeth to make sure he hadn't gotten something stuck in there again. He gave her werewolf breath to the face and playfully slurped her cheek.
"Okay, enjoy," Hermione said, and the werewolf plopped down to eat, tail wagging in appreciation.
"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked Grandfather and Bling.
The two Dementors shook their heads. She smiled as Grandfather put his hand over her head and affectionately ruffled her hair. Bling seemed to shuffle, almost nervously, until Hermione gave him a hug, then Grandfather, and bounced out of the room to find her master and whatever company he happened to be keeping at the moment.
When Hermione arrived in the main room, there were far more people in there than she expected. Some of them were scowling and some were simply somber-looking. Others looked like they needed a stiff drink, while others looked like they desperately needed a hangover potion. Her master, of course, had a whisky in his hand, but he was nursing it as he tended to do, making it look like he was drinking more than he actually was. She'd always presumed it was a social thing, making it look like he was mingling when he'd rather not be. Why that was a thing, she wasn't sure, but she had a feeling that whatever company he kept "in the other world" social drinking and other such things were necessary life skills.
She knew better than to interrupt, so she quietly took her place by her master, sitting down in the chair that was obviously set aside for her— either that or no one else wanted to sit by Severus Snape. Either way, the chair was empty and by him, and that is where she wanted to be in a room full of people she didn't know completely.
Tanith curled a little tighter around her neck, just enough to remind Hermione she was there, giving off a comforting warmth even as she shared Hermione's for herself. Hermione touched her scales gently in reassurance, and kept her head down.
"You may think it a small thing," Lucius' voice broke through the low bickering, "but the Imperius by the Dark Lord was unique in that it lasted even after his supposed death. That may be because of these— Horcruxes, you say— but whatever the reason, it is safe to say that if it happened to me, he may have done so again, and he won't care who he does it to. Allies, enemies, it really makes no difference. If he wants something done, he will either threaten your family, your loved ones, or you— and if there is any doubt that won't work, he will use whatever curses and hexes to ensure that you will do what he wants."
"Lucius, I've heard what they did to save your life and rid you of the various curses, but how could something stuck onto the rump of a boy be as dangerous as the man himself?" A wizard that looked a lot like a disgruntled badger, white stripe of hair and all, glowered at the blond wizard.
"I'm sure you heard about Quirrell," Moody barked, glowering at the other man. "If anything having a parasitic Dark Lord attached to any part of your body makes you more dangerous not less."
"We have no proof that these events are connected to Voldebum or even if the events themselves are connected to the actual Dark Lord."
"Ethan, you're a great Curse Breaker, mate, but you're not seeing the obvious here," another wizard said impatiently. "That mutant Voldebaby thing and Voldebum are just two manifestations of proof that the Dark Lord's attempt to become immortal is all too real. Even Dumbledore tried to tell us that."
More scowls and wrinkled expressions passed around the room.
"Look," another wizard said. "We've all heard about Snape's little beast-charmer, but just because she can wiggle her nose and tell a Nundu what to do does not make her the vanquisher of the Dark Lord."
"Have you ever tried to tell a Nundu to do something, Higgins?"
"Whether I can command a beast in immaterial to this conversation."
"On the contrary," Snape said, his voice breaking in like velvet venom. "Whether you can do even one of these things that my apprentice can is very material to this conversation, as it was this skill that turned a newborn Dementor to our cause instead of randomly feeding on the Muggle neighbours. Had it not been for it sating its hunger on one half of a Dark Lord possessed Weasley bum, the Horcruxes would not have been neutralised— and that includes one very brassed off, enchanted, magically mutated python, which I might add is quite happily no longer possessed, enchanted, nor mutated."
Tanith tongue-flicked, hissing softly into Hermione's ear. Hermione patted her gently, rubbing under her jaw and over her eye ridges.
"Apprentice."
"Yes, Master?"
"Please have your friends sit in the middle of the room, please."
"All of them?" she whispered.
"Just the ones that are here with you today."
"Oh, okay," Hermione answered. With a silent nod, she closed her eyes, and Aine and Tesfaye padded in, dragging their meaty rib cages with them, their cubs and pups in tow. She carefully unwrapped Tanith from her neck and gently placed her in Bling's outstretched hands. Bling and Grandfather hovered ominously, their hoarfrost extending throughout the room.
Hermione kept her gaze down and subservient, but she could feel her master's amusement as it was very clear who had been given the boon of Hermione's sympathetic magic and thus immunity to her Entourage's special powers.
Baeg quickly wove Lucius a thick silken robe to keep him warm, resting on the wizard's shoulder with arachnid smugness.
"I will take my apprentice outside to clean up the garden. Do let me know when the significance of being able to command beasts is as unimportant as you say."
Snape stood and left the room the way he was notorious for— robes billowing and leaving a wake of intimidation in his passing. Hermione followed, taking comfort in his standing up for her. Her hungry friends remained in the center of the room, noisily crunching bones and tearing meat from the ribs as well as attempting to get to the tasty marrow from some added long bones.
Zorion and Kai noticed her leaving, their tummies full, and they bounded towards her. Hermione cuddled them but brought them back to the middle of the room. "Stay here for now, okay?"
The cub and pup licked her hands but stayed.
Hermione followed after Snape, disappearing out the front door.
The moment the door latch clicked, the room temperature seemed to suddenly plunge about twenty degrees even as a glowing river of lava crept across the floor towards the gathered people. Alastor and Amelia already had their shoes off as they flipped through the report notebooks as the lava went over their feet and continued on its path, burning and incinerating random papers and unwarded material as it went.
The Nundu cubs tussled with the Nightmare pups, and they cavorted in the lava, sending droplets of heated molten rock and clouds of disease in random directions. Kai led the charge to Alastor's lap, fighting for the dominance to claim it. He snarled and growled, dominating his fellows and then crawled into Moody's lap, wedging his head under his hand for pets. Meanwhile, Zorion purr-cuddled in Amelia's lap, play-gnawing on her free hand as she rubbed her tummy and ears.
Mutterings of commands came from the gathered unbelievers, trying to command the beasts to obey, but one wizard ended up with a mother Nundu standing on his kidneys while another ended up with a Volcanic Nightmare bitch showing all her teeth as she dripped lava drool perilously close to his crotch.
Amelia, flipping through some papers while she pet Zorion, sighed, "Do you hear anything, Alastor?"
Alastor, taking his reheated coffee off Kai's warm back, sipped and grunted, "Can't see that I do, Amelia. Biscuit?"
"Thank you, Alastor," Amelia replied, taking a shortbread finger from the tin and chewing on it.
Meanwhile, a mildly alarmed Hermione was listening to the muffled cries coming from inside the house. "Do you think they're all right in there, Master?"
Severus, cocked his head to the side. "I think they are learning respect on a whole new level for the natural world and its beasts as well as for you. We should not interrupt this most important life lesson. Fortescue's?"
Hermione perked. "Ice cream for breakfast?"
"Are you complaining?" Snape's eyebrow arched in response.
"Never, Master," Hermione grinned. "Let's go!"
Snape's smug smile screamed justice as he held out his hand for her to take. She placed her small hand in his.
Crack!
They were gone.
… but the screaming continued on.
Snape watched with considerable amusement as his apprentice was covered in happy, cooing dragonets, all offering her the plumpest roasted chestnuts from their hoard of tasty treats.
"Oh, thank you very much!" Hermione said, collecting the chestnuts in a small basket she had skillfully transfigured from a napkin.
The dragonets crooned and rubbed up against her.
A considerable pile of dragonet-roasted barbeque was piled up in front of them as well— all offerings from the happy little dragonets of Diagon Alley.
A bronze dragonet offered Snape a skewer loaded with chunks of meat and vegetables, and he accepted it gratefully. "Thank you."
The creature seemed to grin, showing all of its tiny, sharp teeth before flying back to the stand it normally worked at.
The vendors seemed baffled as to why their beasts had just sauntered off from duty.
One of the street vendors, after seeing his peers unsuccessfully attempting to lure their dragonets back to work, seemed to realise another approach was needed.
"Pardon me, good miss. I see you are an apprentice. Would you and your master like to sit over here by our booth? In exchange we would provide your meal and drinks for free."
Hermione looked to Severus. "Master?"
"I don't see why not."
And so they moved over to a hastily-conjured table with an umbrella shaped like dragon wings. As they sat at the new location, the dragonets continued to bring them tasty offerings, but they also tended the booth's fires and foods as well— a big win for the vendor with enough guile to know what the dragonets really wanted. The other vendors seemed to only get nasty bites and scratches for their trouble.
What started as an outing for ice cream ended with a dragonet-roasted gourmet meal for two with plenty of leftovers for snacks for her entourage when she returned back to Moody's beast-infested house. Moody was probably laughing on the inside while scowling on the outside, and Amelia was probably laughing on the outside just like she was on the inside. Those that knew Hermione and her beasts would find the entire situation terribly funny.
The others, well, not so much.
If they were too dunderheaded to realise that any person, young witch or otherwise (that could get a Dementor to choose non-violence over merciless soul-sucking, get wild beasts that normally didn't cohabitate to cohabitate peacefully, and charm the entire dragonet population of Diagon Alley into bringing her all the tasty food they could) with her abilities was a force to be respected and nurtured rather than dismissed, well, they deserved a little reality check.
He knew that Alastor and Amelia wouldn't let things go too far. There was enough mutual respect between the two and the beasts as well as enough familiarity that they wouldn't destroy everything.
By the time they were more than full and ready to check the other stores, Hermione made sure to stroke and cuddle each dragonet, thanking them for their offerings and attentiveness. She carried them back to their perches, kissing them on the head and stroking their backs.
Yet—
As Snape watched, he saw the glowing runes on her skin blaze bright purple with her innate magic. The dragonets sang as one, a throaty croon of solidarity. Runes spread from her to them— unnoticed, perhaps by the casual onlooker. But Severus saw them.
The dragonets were crooning their praise to her, and she lavished them all with love and attention the likes of which they had never been given before.
He knew what a precious thing it was— that endless compassion and the warmth of her touch. She likely had no clue how powerful it was, how powerful she really was. She knew only what she was given, and she reflected and grew within the pools of what had been gifted her. Severus had no doubt that it had been her parents' love that had tempered her into a being who thrived in such environments of encouragement.
Perhaps, despite their being absent during the time Demeter visited them, the goddess knew that they were not negligent parents but seekers of knowledge— knowledge they fully intended to share with their child when the time came. Only, their daughter had been magical, destined to be far from dentistry long before Demeter cast her mortality to the embers of the hearth.
There was no telling if it was Demeter Herself or some other goddess of the old pantheon that had done it— it was quite possibly a combined effort, for surely Hermione had not only the thirst for knowledge but Artemis' affinity to the wild. She may have been denied the breast of Aphrodite, but there was a wild kind of beauty in her demeanor— buried within, growing within the cocoon of fragile mortal flesh.
For now, however, she was still experiencing the world around her— a world she would eventually judge for its sins and virtues. There was no doubt in his mind that she would remember those that had slighted her as surely as Hera remembered every crime against her.
Of course, it was only natural that, of all possible times, she would be growing up just as a Dark Lord was rising again with a bid to take over the world, and the true natures of everyone around here were proving distinctly less than pure. He scoffed. Why grow up during peaceful times?
But even now, Hermione was gathering her allies— befriending the downtrodden and the underestimated, those that were often judged as being inferior due to being inhuman. She was, perhaps, the polar opposite of what Voldemort stood for. Voldemort used Fenrir and his werewolves to sow discord and murder innocents, savouring the terror he left in his wake, but he never brought the beasts into his inner circle. Dementors, werewolves, vampires, beasts— all of them were inferior to his greatness.
Yet, his apprentice did not attract things to her for being powerful and eclipsing. She bound the beasts to her will with warmth and compassion. They served willingly, if only to experience her caress. To be near her was enough, and somewhere inside of himself, he felt that same, undeniable pull towards that peace.
At the same time, he was at peace because he was with her, guiding her on her path to become a potions mistress the world had never seen the like before. She looked to him with trust, and he would never break it. Hermione would not become the next Lily Evans.
The boy had let his emotions lash out and destroy what his childhood had built. The man knew better and what to cherish and fight for, and he would be there as teacher, mentor, and comrade for as long as she needed him.
What then?
The nagging doubt in his gut said she would leave him like all his family and supposed friends would and did as soon as it was convenient to do so. She would just walk out of his life, perhaps with a kiss on the cheek and a fake wish to meet again. She would never return.
A growing voice inside his heart said Hermione was incapable of being so shallow. She might forget some social grace that she was never exposed to as a child, but she was not the kind of person to ever forget a friend— unless that friend told her to leave like her stupid Gryffindor "friends" did. Then, she would simply honour their wishes.
Perhaps, he should amend that by saying she would never forget a true friend— and she was learning just what that was.
"Don't be stealing my dragonets again, little lady," the gruff shopkeeper said as he put his dragonet back into the chestnut roasting oven and closed the door.
"Stealing would be taking them without your knowledge with the intent to deprive you of their company for my own benefit," Hermione said, her posture stiffening.
"And what was it you were doing then, little lady?"
"Enjoying a modest breakfast with my master," Hermione said, "and thanking your dragonets for sharing their food with us."
"You didn't pay for the food it gave you," the man accused, scowling darkly.
"Is there a problem here?" a wizard in Auror's robes came up.
"This girl didn't pay for the food she was delivered by my dragonet."
The Auror looked at Hermione, who narrowed her eyes. "Did you order food from this man and not pay for it?"
"No," Hermione said, stung.
"She's lying! My dragonet took her a number of my best chestnuts!"
"Did the dragonet bring you chestnuts?"
"Yes." Hermione narrowed her eyes.
The surly shopkeeper looked victorious.
"But you did not order them?"
"No, I did not," Hermione replied.
The Auror peered into the chestnut cabinet, where the dragonet was now frantically trying to escape. Curious, he undid the latch, and the little dragonet promptly zoomed out, diving under Hermione's hair and disappearing— with two large chestnuts clutched in his claws.
"I fear I must take your dragonet in and charge it for pilfering your goods, sir," the Auror said, utterly deadpan.
The shopkeeper's face turned as red as a ripe tomato. He reached out and grabbed the poor dragonet by the tail. "Fine, I drop the charges." He yanked the dragonet, and the creature's small claws scraped Hermione's neck and shoulder with its frantic scrambling.
Hermione's head shot up, purple fire leaking from her eyes as her jaw set. Her fangs were showing as her power shuddered around her.
Snape was swiftly in front of her, wrapping her up in his voluminous robes and pulling her close to his body. He snarled down at shopkeeper. "You have harmed my apprentice and as her master, I now claim the right of retribution." His wand was out, and before the shopkeep could even release a spell, Snape had transformed him into a squealing swine. All the dragonets from every stall in the alley immediately dive-bombed and chased after him— save for the little golden dragonet the shopkeep had tried to drag away by its tail.
The Auror gazed on Hermione with shock and awe as Snape pulled his robes away from her. A set of beautiful, dark purple dragonwings were wrapped snugly around Snape's waist as she glared balefully out from his side, her eyes still glowing from her anger— but she was holding it back, if but just barely. The little dragonet was curled securely around her neck, anchoring itself to her neck with its tail. The dragonet hissed, and Hermione's mouth opened to mirror it, the magic of the newly-forged familiar bond already blurring the boundaries between species.
Snape put his hand on her head. A brush of hoarfrost and fire passed through his touch, but he could feel her anger fade away at his touch. The wrath faded as she looked up into his eyes with trust and gratitude so deep, Severus could not help but be moved by it. He felt a deep, overwhelming desire to protect her— and in that moment, he would have dueled the shopkeeper to the death for having made her cry, let alone hurt her physically.
Snape hissed as a sharp pain hit him in the back, and he crumpled to the ground. He could barely feel it through the wave of protective fury he was trying to control in himself to keep from taking on the entire alley if someone even looked at Hermione wrong. His hands splayed on the ground, clawing at the ground as he fought instinct and the desire to tear things to shreds.
Hermione's touch was a beacon— a lifeline back to the sanity of his own, calmer mind. She was there, her wings wrapped around his body, and he surrendered to it— for once feeling the very rightness of magic's wild choice rather than fighting for control of it in one way or another. The pain in his back transformed into sheer ecstasy as the feel of Hermione's wild magick flowed through him, singing through every vein as the snap of their bond as master and apprentice took one more step towards an unbreakable end.
He teeth ground, seeming to jerk out of his gums. He gave out a hissing roar as wings burst from the back of his robes— black with the darkest purple membranes before black. Echos of Hermione's runic tattoos shimmered off them as her power shared with him— transforming him into her guardian in blood and bone, magic and life.
As he stood, his wings flared out and folded around Hermione as she begged him not to try and die on her again. He pulled her to him, teeth bared, enfolding her in a protective wing embrace. "I am not dying on you, Apprentice," he whispered.
She looked at him in wonder, her hand touching his wings with pure fascination.
The dragonet chirred happily, doing a loop de loop, changing from golden scales to blue and white in happiness.
"Thank you, Bertje," Hermione said, giving the dragonet a kiss on the forehead.
The dragonet hummed at her and Severus, happy.
Meanwhile, the Auror had tackled a wizard in the crowd and had him bound in magic as well as cuffed with enchanted manacles. As Severus turned to face the one that had taken advantage of the chaos to shoot him in the back, he tucked Hermione behind him with a brush of his new wings. "Rookwood, to what do I endure the pleasure of your curse to my back? Not that I don't appreciate the added appendages and extra nails to file in the powder room. You do know how I so much love pampering my body."
"Snape!" Rookwood hissed. "You took away my playthings in the DoM, and I wanted that little Mudblood to suffer. First you, then her, and I would happily take her to the Dark Lord and soil her in front of the others!"
Hermione's distress radiated through Snape, and he scowled. Claws he didn't know he had extended like a great cats', unsheathing from inside his fingers with a stretching sound as he walked over to where Rookwood was. "So confident are you? Ready to spill your guts right here in front of everyone?"
"Azkaban won't hurt me, Snape. The Dementors are Dark, just like me."
The crowd in Diagon whispered amongst each other nervously, having recognised Rookwood's face from various Ministry posters.
"Don't bet on that," Severus said, his voice like venom and flames. "You hurt my apprentice— and it will not take long for such news to spread to Azkaban."
"So what? Everyone there knows she's just a worthless Mudblood slag. Deserving of the worst possible fates."
Severus put his face right up to Rookwood's, his obsidian gaze both umbral and smoldering. "I'm not talking about the people."
Rookwood's face twisted in total confusion.
A team of Aurors Apparated in, helping their comrade seize and take a still struggling Rookwood away.
"Master Snape?"
"Hn?" Severus said, his gaze turning to the Auror.
"Could we have a sit down and discuss today's events for my report?"
Snape sighed, his claws lightly scratching the side of his face as his wing automatically reached out and pulled Hermione closer to him to keep her safely out of mischief. "I suppose, but I would prefer someplace less— open."
"The Leaky?"
"That would be acceptable."
The Auror gestured for Snape to lead on, and he did, Hermione and Bertje following behind as the crowd simultaneously came to the conclusion that somehow the man that was terribly intimidating before was even more intimidating now with wings, claws, and fangs— and having seen the situation that gave him it, they couldn't blame it on Dark magic. If anything, they had seen a "cruel" street vendor yank a dragonet by the tail and injure a child, causing a surge of extreme defensive familial magic that transferred from apprentice to master through their bond— and that was a far more positive magic to speak about than to condemn.
"Sir," Hermione said, stopping, tugging on Severus' wing to get him to halt.
"Yes?" the Auror said.
"How much does a dragonet usually cost? If one were to get one at Eyelops or the Magical Menagerie?"
The Auror looked thoughtful. "They are a little more exotic than the owls. I would imagine them being roughly around twenty galleons for a standard fare dragonet and then increasing depending on the breed. Roasting dragonets are known to be a bit single-minded, however, so they cost less than most other familiars."
Hermione pulled out her bag and then another bag from within. She plucked out a number of coins and put them in a drawstring pouch. "Could you see that the shopkeeper gets this to cover the cost of another roasting dragonet? I mean— when he's finished running around and hopefully learning better manners."
The Auror's eyebrows went up. "Sure, lass," he said, surprised at the young girl's generosity. "Dare I ask how long the pig hex will last, Master Snape?"
Severus rubbed his chin with his fingers. "Until he learns humility."
The Auror blinked at that. "Well, we'll just keep it at the vault for him. Might be a while."
Hermione smiled, and they continued on their way to the Leaky Cauldron.
"You hear about Scarhead?" Draco asked, rubbing Bertje under the chin. The dragonet crooned in approval as Hermione and Draco talked over a butterbeer while the adults chatted away with the Auror.
Hermione shook her head.
"He's at Mungo's. Something happened that caused a cloud of disgusting stuff to spew out of his scar while he was staying at the Weasel's house. He and Weasel are sharing a room, and all they seem to care about is not missing the Quidditch World Cup."
Hermione shook her head.
"Never were much of a Quidditch fan, were you?" Draco asked.
Hermione shook her head.
"Hey, um— thanks."
"For what?"
"For saving my father."
Hermione shook her head. "I didn't. You needn't—"
"It was because of your Dementor potions and your old Dementor pal, the big one that was there, and Fenrir that my dad's okay. So, thank you. I— really mean it."
Hermione looked down at her scotch egg and chips. She nibbled on one of her chips thoughtfully. "You're welcome, Draco."
"Where are your friends anyway?"
Hermione frowned, absently itching her face with one wing spur. "Busy teaching humility."
"Seems to be a theme lately," Draco said with a grin.
"Looking forward to Hogwarts?"
Draco shrugged. "I guess. Father seems to to think I'll be in danger if I don't continue to play the oblivious pureblood git like he's still a—" He nervously looked around, then whispered, "Death Eater."
"To be fair, I really thought you believed it all," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
Draco winced. "It's all I knew. I know that doesn't excuse it, but Father didn't exactly show me there was another side of himself until— well, until Weasel Senior came by. Father kind of lost it— just Disapparated and left Mum and I wondering what the heck had been said. It wasn't until Severus sent word after the big battle in the graveyard that we even knew he was Imperiused."
Hermione frowned. "Wait, you said it was Mr Weasley? Not Ronald?"
Draco nodded. "That's what Mum said," he replied. "I wasn't there at the time. I was off having a flying lesson when he came over."
Hermione looked down at her drink and twitched. "I don't like it."
It was Draco's turn to frown. "What?"
"That day, when Ron tried to get at me through the wards, he said his father brought him there. But if Ron was possessed by Voldebum— he was probably controlling his father. My master said that the Dark Lord's Imperius' lasted even after his death, which is why it's so hard to tell when a supposed Death Eater claims they were under the Imperius— actually proving it— it's hard to be sure."
Draco took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed, seemingly in deep thought.
Bertje chomped Hermione's finger, pointing her tail at Snape.
Hermione hung her head and sighed, picking up the dragonet and snuggling her. "You're right, of course."
She slid out of the booth with Draco and took a seat beside Snape, saying nothing, casting her gaze down, but surreptitiously touching one wing to his. She knew he felt it, so she didn't do anything else but wait quietly.
Patience, she had learned, was the key to her master's attention. Pay attention. Do as you're told. Ask questions after the instructions were followed and not before. Wait for acknowledgment before speaking up. Emotional outbursts were accepted only when it was an emergency and imperative to be addressed in the heat of the moment—
It had been hard at first. She had a tendency to run off at the mouth and hand wave frantically, striving to prove her worth. Looking back on it, she had to admit if she was locked in a room with herself, she'd probably have wanted to murder herself. She was learning, oddly enough because she had to listen to her beast-friends more often than she had to speak to them. Regardless, however, she knew it was better to allow silence fill the empty spaces until called upon.
It was better to be underestimated. That was the real lesson. The truth would come out in the end.
"Apprentice," Snape's voice broke through her meditation.
"Yes, Master?"
"What is it you wished to speak of?"
Hermione looked up. "Draco and I were talking, and he said that Mr Weasley was the one that visited the night before Mr Malfoy. And Ronald told me that his father is the one that brought him along to Moody's new house, and when Ron was hurt, he wasn't really upset— not at all like he was when Mrs Weasley was brought in for questioning after she hurt you. I think that was pretty odd. Draco also thought it odd that Mr Malfoy started acting strange after Mr Weasley visited— doing things without letting his mum know. While that was not so suspicious for him, it was not normal for his mum to be left out."
Hermione took a deep breath. "And I was thinking that since you said the Dark Lord's Imperius was so long-acting. that maybe Mr Weasley may be under his influence— even after certain bums and babies have been, erm, taken care of."
Snape was silent even as Lucius drummed his fingers against the table, frowning slightly.
"I take back what I said before, Severus," he said. "The girl is quite competent, after all."
Snape sneered at him. "Of course she is," he said through bared teeth, his pointed canines emphasising his snarl. Inexperience does not mean she is a dunderhead."
Lucius splayed his hands in protest. "Peace, my friend. I meant that sincerely and with proper respect."
Snape closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as Lucius attempted to surreptitiously recover from literally being snarled at— with fangs.
Snape licked his teeth as he adjusted himself, pulling on his self-control to still the protective fury that seemed to lurk under his skin. "I'm going to order us another round of drinks and use the loo. Do try to behave yourselves in my absence"
He stood and his wing wrapped around Hermione to herd her along with him. She meeped and walked beside him, her wing closest to him curving along his lower back to assure him that she was still there and accounted for.
By the time he returned with fresh drinks in hand, sending Hermione to the table with Draco and a platter of assorted miniature desserts and drinks, Alastor Moody had materialised like a spectre, gravitating towards them.
"Finally done babysitting the heathens?" Snape asked with a sniff.
"Amelia has it taken care of— that and those who can't seem to understand the lesson have since been sat upon— what in the holy hairpiece of Merlin happened to you, Severus?" He stared.
"Bloody Rookwood, a pompous street vendor, a cowardly curse to the back, a frantic newly familiar-bound apprentice, and a heavy dose of sympathetic Wild Magick."
Moody poured himself a cold drink from the pitcher. "Don't let the little lass go into Eyelops or the Magical Menagerie. She'll come out of there with ruddy everything."
"What brings you to the Leaky, Auror Moody?" Severus said, one black eyebrow raised in question.
"Rumours of an attack trickling down the Auror gossip line. Why does it always seem to be you right in the middle of it?"
"My superb sense of timing," Snape replied, calmly drinking from his glass. "You might as well sit down and join us for the long haul, Alastor. We have news."
Moody grunted. "Who do I have to arrest this time?"
Snape's grim smile flashed a bit of fang. "Arthur Weasley."
Moody almost spit his beer out on Lucius. "What?"
Moody poured himself another drink and nursed it. "Go on then," he muttered. "Hell, I'm going to need a new notebook after the last few days."
Baeg suddenly popped in amidst a cloud of aether and deposited a new dragonhide-covered notebook down for him, disappearing with a fffwwwop!
Blodwyn appeared with a new travel inkwell and quill and set it down.
"Amateurs," she sniffed and disappeared with a soft pop.
Moody blinked at the fine new notebook and quill and then the ink. "Thank you?"
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose as Lucius rubbed his temples. "Be careful what you wish for," Severus said with a grunt. "You never know who might be listening."
Mayhem at St. Mungo's!
Weasley Matriarch Has Breakdown When Husband is Arrested at Youngest Son's Bedside
Very odd things were happening at St Mungo's this evening when a contingent of Aurors stormed up into young Ronald Weasley's hospital room to arrest not him but his father, Arthur Weasley, on suspicion of being under the influence of coercive magic.
While the arrest was preemptive for the safety of Weasley's friends and family from whatever unknown "influences" Mr Weasley was under, Mrs Molly Weasley proceeded to throw a massive fit that resulted in a bout of accidental magic that sent everything from bedpans to blankets flying around the floor to wrap up and beat on random innocent bystanders.
The ensuing chaos took the focus away from Weasley, and he attempted to take a young apprentice hostage in order to facilitate an escape. For reasons that no one can seem to explain, however; Arthur Weasley ended up flat on his face wrapped up from head-to-toe in silk like a snug, oversized infant swaddle.
His son, Ronald, hasn't stopped screaming since, claiming that huge furry spiders did it.
No sign of spiders were found on the premises, save for a few small garden-variety specimens, none of which matched Ronald Weasley's frankly outlandish descriptions.
Master Severus Snape, who had to come to defence of his young apprentice on multiple occasions this last week, declined the traditional duel to the death when his apprentice was directly threatened with intent to cause serious harm, stating that Arthur Weasley was most likely not in his right mind, and dueling someone in such a state would be inappropriate.
Snape, praised for his magnanimous decision to allow Arthur Weasley to undergo magical therapy and deconditioning, stated his apprentice was well and unharmed from the trauma. Master Snape has been making waves with the unique strength of his bond to his apprentice— the like of which hasn't been seen in a long span of Wizarding history— to the point where they share a preternatural manifestation of magic and abilities between them.
News of this has caused a renaissance of the time-honoured master and apprentice system. When word reached the other prominent European magical schools, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons both staunchly supported the revival of the old system as being a great tradition that could only help revitalise the way students are taught. Hogwarts, however, protests that while the system may work for well enough for some, expanding apprenticeship would require many more teachers than are currently available in magical Britain.
As for the fate of the Weasley family, Molly Weasley is currently under a mind healer's care for her breakdown, Arthur is reportedly undergoing extensive deconditioning, and Ronald Weasley is looking to be the recipient of the nation's first magical prosthetic buttocks after a freak accident involving a traumatic run-in with a powerful warding system.
While some seem to wonder if the Weasley family has somehow collectively offended a higher power, we can only wish the family well in their ongoing mutual recovery.
Harry groaned. Every time Ron moved, even a little onto his new posterior, it made either obnoxiously loud farting sounds or high-pitched girlish giggles, no thanks to the twins for getting ahold of their little brother's artificial bum and adding a few special… upgrades of their own.
And as if that wasn't bad enough, every time he walked by someone, they had the irresistible urge to slap him on the arse.
Old, young, even familiars weren't immune.
It was… embarrassing to Harry, and gods only knew how bad it was for Ron.
His twin brothers were scary, scary people.
"Yeah, well, I took care of it, baby bro," a voice said to Ron. "I sent the formal challenge for a duel to take care of that usurping dragon trainer that mucked up my work at Gringotts so they didn't renew my contract. The dragons Hogwarts ordered for the event, though, that will keep me covered financially until I can take care of it."
"Whut?" Ron yelped, his bum violently breaking wind without his permission.
"Some wanna-be dragon trainer conned the goblins into training their dragons in a different way. They took out my contract to keep training them. Gave it to some upstart rookie. Some self-important chit apprenticing under that greasy old git Snape. I presume it's just some idiot Slytherin he's obligated to train."
Ronald frowned. "Charlie, there's only one person apprenticing under Snape and that's Hermione. Trust me, you don't sodding want to go there, bro. She's bloody scary-brilliant, and she's being trained by Snape."
"You know her?"
"She's… er, was in my classes. I reckon that we— well, Gryffindor— really screwed her over a few times. Made her feel unwelcome. My girlfriend kinda took a grudge out on her, and chucked her school trunk out a window in Gryffindor tower. Dumbledore released her to apprentice with Snape, and she was put in Slytherin. Shortly after that, though, she left with him because Snape got some posh offer to work somewhere else. He took her with him. Dad said she's staying at the Ministry now. Somewhere." Ron rubbed his head. "It's all a bit hazy right now."
The door to the room practically blew off the hinges as a half-squad of Aurors poured in along with a Ministry scribe dressed in her bright blue and white official robes announced their position as an official word of the Ministry.
"Charles Septimus Weasley, your declaration of formal duel against Apprentice Hermione Jean Granger has been acknowledged by her master, Severus Tobias Snape, in accordance to her minor child status. He will meet you on the dueling grounds at the Ministry of Magic at seven in the morning sharp. Should you fail to meet Master Snape at the appointed time, your challenge will be forfeit, and you will be stripped of all future dueling rights for any and all purposes. Restitution will fall upon the winner to suggest to the Wizengamot, who will ultimately decide fair resolution to the winner."
"Since you have demanded a magic duel that holds the serious risk of death for a minor child, you will be required to offer valid proof of your accusations after the duel to avoid being charged with child endangerment."
The moment the official proclamation was completed, the scroll turned into magical bindings that shot over to Charlie and marked his wrists with the contractual, formal dueling conditions.
Molly's shrill voice broke the sudden silence, "Charlie, what have you done?!" The horrified Weasley matriarch was standing in the doorway still in her hospital gown as she had made her way over to visit her youngest son.
Harry's eyebrow twitched as he began to suspect that his "ideal family" was not quite as great as he had convinced himself to believe.
Charlie collapsed in a chair. "What do you mean I challenged a kid to a duel?"
The look on the face of the Weasley in front of him was worth so many galleons, Severus decided as he stifled a smirk. Charlie Weasley, the so-called dragon expert, gawked at his young Apprentice teaching Bertje tricks. Draco extended the piece of food, and the dragonet promptly flew over to land on his wrist and eat it. Each sported dragonhide gloves that looked like a falconry glove with upgrades. The dragonet happily did whatever tricks Hermione so desired, but Hermione was trying hard to teach her signals that didn't "cheat" so Draco could do them too.
Hermione was, as she typically was, a headful of bushy chocolate curls— the most unexpected master of beasts there could ever be. Many were doubtful of her skill until they realised what she worked with— and fearlessly to boot. But it was not only her mastery with beasts that made her special.
She wished to learn everything possibly she could from him— the good, the bad, the neutral, and she did. Everything he taught, she learned, from the lessons he gave her to the very small things he did and she imitated.
At first, he dismissed it as the simple bond between master and apprentice, but theirs was no simple bond. From the very beginning, they had shared a similar harsh betrayal in childhood, a focus born of pain— but they had also shared a powerful bond of magic. Somehow magic was shared between them on a unique, deep, transformative level.
He was drawn to protect her— to the point he would risk his life for hers without hesitation. Maybe that was just the way things were with masters and apprentices, but he hadn't hesitated in responding to the Weasley's challenge on her behalf. A part of him was even eager— chomping at the bit to take the professional dragon hunter down hard— the man who had dared to accuse his apprentice of sabotaging his career on purpose.
Hermione was a great many things, but she was not a saboteur.
"Master Snape," the Ministry official called from the stands. "As the circumstances of this duel may result in fatality, do you have arrangements in case you should be mortally wounded?"
"I, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, am willing take responsibility in the case Severus is defeated."
"I, Alastor Moody, am willing to take responsibility in the case Severus is defeated and if by some miracle Lucius Malfoy doesn't immediately demand a counter duel to the death."
There were snickers in the audience and some decidedly pale faces from others.
"I, Amelia Bones, am willing to take responsibility in the case any or all the above need a witch to handle a wizard's duel." Her voice was serious, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"And for the continuing education of your apprentice in case all of the above should fail?"
"I, Minerva McGonagall, will gladly continue as her master in education should these fine people be blindsided," the elder witch said, stepping out of the crowd.
Whispers went throughout the crowd.
"So noted. Charlie Weasley, do you have seconds in which to stand for you in the case you should fall?"
"I would ask that the restraining order be lifted temporarily so that Molly Weasley will be allowed to stand in the case I should fall."
The official frowned. "You wish to allow your sick mother to stand as your second in a duel?"
"She is not sick, sir, not in any way that would affect a duel."
The official's eyebrows had knit together. "I tend to disagree, but, if she is to be your official second, then it shall be noted that Severus Snape, standing in for his apprentice Hermione Granger, has his second, Lucius Malfoy. Charlie Weasley is seconded by Molly Weasley, who will be permitted on the grounds for this purpose only."
"Please be advised, the seconds are only permitted to battle if danger outside of the main combatants occurs during the duel. They are not to combat the duelists. Is this clear?"
"Yes," they said together.
"Duelists, take your places. On the count of zero from five, you will pace away to your respective positions on the platform and then proceed to duel until the other is defeated or dead."
As Charlie began to walk to his place, Snape shed his outer robe, giving it to Hermione. "Hold this for me, please. I will be back for it."
"Yes, Master."
"Do not interfere, no matter what happens."
"Yes, Master."
Snape walked onto the platform and turned around, putting his back to Charlie's.
"Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Begin!"
Hermione half-buried her face in Zorion's fluffy kitten fur, not wanting to watch while also wanting to watch. Her other hand curled around Fenrir's thick scruff as she pulled him close. The werewolf whined and nuzzled her, his tail wagging in encouragement.
Snape and Charlie turned around, wands brandished, and while Snape's expression darkened, Charlie's face abruptly paled as he saw Snape's huge draconic wings unfurled from his shoulders. Charlie barely managed to block the incoming spell, and he lunged to the side to send a bola spell zinging outward.
Snape blocked it with one wing, but the magical bola expanded and crushed his left wing, causing Snape to roar in pain. He sent out another spell, and Charlie ducked, but all of his ginger hair from his browline up was completely slashed away, floating lightly to the floor. Charlie threw another spell, and the air was filled with the rattling sound of the draconic shakers used in Gringott's only a hundred times louder.
Snape glowered at his opponent, banishing the sound as he threw another spell as Charlie lurched as his boots stuck to the floor of the dueling platform. Charlie threw a spell that projected razor sharp shards of ice at Snape, but Snape countered it with fire. Snape lashed out with energy whips, and Charlie countered by hitting Snape with a conjunctivitis curse to the eyes.
Charlie saw his opening and cast his next spell, sending a torrent of dragonfire out of his wand to consume Snape's vulnerable form.
But Snape dodged, his cursed eyes still open and seemingly watching Charlie. He let out a vicious hiss as his nostrils flared and he neatly reflected the spell back on the caster, consuming Charlie's body in dragonfire.
Charlie let out an agonised scream, completely unprepared for the counter of his own spell, and he fell to the ground, rolling back and forth in a frantic attempt to put himself out. Snape, still staring, performed a formal bow before stowing his wand and walking very carefully as his hand and feet sought the stairs down.
Lucius grabbed him, guiding him to Hermione, and Hermione quickly gave him a potion from his robes, placing it in his hands. He touched it, uncorking it and sniffing it. Nodding in gratitude, he took a sip and closed his eyes, shaking his head as his vision returned. "You remembered."
"Oculus potion, Master. You always keep one in your right pocket, second down."
Snape sighed in relief and approval. He clasped Lucius on the arm, and the blond wizard returned the gesture. He placed a hand on the dragonet's back. "And thank you, my little friend, for the gift of your heat-sensing pits."
Bertje crooned, turning bright blue and white.
Lucius touched Snape's left wing, his spell removing the curse that had crushed it together. Snape growled lowly in pain, but nodded his thanks.
"Ladies and gentlewizards, the duel is now concluded," the announcer said, returning from tending to the flaming Weasley. "The conditions for victory have been met, and Master Severus Snape is victorious in defending Apprentice Granger's honour in the matter of the accusation of the sabotage of a working contract with intent. The Wizengamot will meet after Master Snape has declared his request for restitution."
"Charlie Weasley, you have until the end of today to file your proof of deliberate actions against you to counter the charges of child endangerment for challenging a minor child as well as a respected apprentice to a duel."
"Master Snape, if you could send your request for restitution to the Department of Wizarding Duels as well by the end of today, that would be most helpful."
"Of course," Snape replied, giving a slight nod of acquiescence.
Charlie only moaned incoherently from the stretcher as he was carried away to the Apparation point.
"Sentencing may be delayed depending on healer determination of his patient's ability to quill," the official said with a sigh. "You are all now dismissed."
"NO! No, no, no!" Molly wailed. "Why have you cursed my family!" she screeched at Hermione, storming towards her. "Why do you hate us so much?!"
Molly's path was immediately blocked by a growling Fenrir, the fur around his hackles standing at stiff attention.
Snape stood at his full height, pulling Hermione under his wing and closer to his body, no longer bothering to to make his less or more than human traits any more subtle. "That is enough, Molly. I have had enough of your fecal bâtonnage to last me a lifetime, and you have managed to do it all in the course of the last few months. Now, before you run at the mouth and accuse my apprentice again for something she hasn't done, I suggest you go back to Mungos and readmit yourself to a thorough examination to determine if you may be under influence of any possible curses and hexes, as well as a full psychological evaluation, lest we find ourselves on the dueling platform again for the second time today."
"Please don't," Alastor groaned. "Mulcahey gets mad as a bloody boiled owl when he has to do more than one duel a week."
"That's pretty mad," Amelia agreed, fighting back a chuckle.
Molly stared at Hermione for a long moment, her face torn between reason and and the urge to attack the girl over her "babies'" misfortunes. She then turned and silently walked back out of the dueling area.
"Let's go home," Snape sighed. "You three might as well come have dinner with us. I'm sure Blodwyn has a seven course meal waiting that could feed an entire army."
Fenrir eagerly licked his chops, and the Nundu cub and Nightmare hound pup both mirrored the action.
They all trailed off to the Apparition point together without another word.
"Are you quite through dueling this month, Severus?" Amelia asked as Crookshanks buttered her up for tasty bits of her pan-roasted salmon.
"Quite," Severus answered. "If people would kindly stop throwing themselves at my apprentice like she is some conspirator to the Dark gods, it would make life so much easier."
Alastor grunted. "She seems recovered enough from worrying about you." He gestured with his chin to Hermione, who was blissfully partaking of a cuddle with Grandfather, while reading a large tome. The Monstrous Books of Monsters were all gathered around her as they attentively listened to her read.
"Once she was sure I wasn't bleeding out from some invisible dueling wound, yes," Snape replied with a grunt. "I will admit it is— strange to have someone so worried about my person."
"Some of us do care whether you live or die, Severus," Amelia said.
"Ah, but which? To live or to die?" Severus replied dryly.
Amelia gave him a look, and Snape lifted his tea to her. "Hermione cares for many things and many people," he said.
"You most of all," Alastor said. "You don't see us sporting dragon wings and Nundu teeth."
"Ah, but you do have her blessing against her Entourage," Snape said.
"Temporary and that she has to re-bless."
"Yes, but that she can do it at all is gift enough, yes? Even Master Edevane could not do that."
"Hell, we didn't know it was even possible," Master Edevane boggled. "She is the first that can understand them beyond body language since the Founders— at least the first that has been on record. There was that talented young wizard from India that seemed quite talented with animals, but it seemed to be a local talent and only with the more mundane animals that did not breathe fire or disease."
"You'll have to admit that one did have some talent, though, Glen," Amelia said.
Edevane shrugged. "Yes, but he was rubbish outside of India, which did not allow him to teach anyone effectively. He was, admittedly, a great defender of the jungles there. You just couldn't transplant him."
Blodwyn, as usual, had outdone herself, having set out a seven course meal all by herself with poor Baeg trying to keep up. He was, admittedly, more helpful than most, but his skill was a little less polished than hers. He did keep Lucius fully hydrated, however, so he wasn't a total loss. Lucius said he was loads more competent than Dobby ever was-
Anything that kept Lucius "happier" was deemed a good thing of late with all the Dark Lord nonsense and random duels.
Severus seemed both sombre and encouraged by Lucius' declaration to provide for Hermione in case he should fall. Purebloods never lied when it came to such matters. It was no secret that the Malfoy family had no history of love for Muggles, yet without the Mark's insidious influence, perhaps he was more free to make his own decisions instead of remaining trapped firmly under the bootheel of his father's dark memory.
Draco, much to Severus' surprise, seemed to turn over a new leaf starting from when Severus had first taken Hermione on as his apprentice, made her a fellow Slytherin, and made it known he was willing to defend her to the death. Apparently, that had dramatically upped the respect level in the young wizard's eyes.
Hermione, despite what she thought, was already training all her charges how to better interact with people. The cubs and pups were all people pleasers, and Aine and Tesfaye were exceptionally tolerant parents as long as Hermione was there to clue them in that the people touching their furry children were to be accepted.
Well… furry, slimy, scaled, or whatever children. They all loved her, and she loved them back.
Dinnertime discussion seemed to focus around how Ronald Weasley became possessed in the buttocks to begin with to what in Hades was wrong with Molly Weasley (or Charlie Weasley for that matter.) Lucius suspected it was something unstable in the Weasley or perhaps Prewett bloodlines that made the Dark Lord's magic find it especially attractive to use.
Alastor, of course, thought the worst of even the best of people after being properly tortured, and having been shoved into a box and used for polyjuice fodder made for an especially cranky Moody.
He wasn't alone in such crankiness, truth be told.
Still, if anything could break up the cranky factor, it was watching Hermione teach Draco how to cut up pieces of fish, venison, and other meats to feed her charges. Whatever beast decided it had won the lottery in getting to accompany her that day varied. Sometimes, despite what the pups and cubs thought, their mums made them stay home, and Hermione was left with Fenrir and some other beast companion of the day. Fenrir, unlike Crookshanks, wanted to be with her whenever possible. Crookshanks, like most felines, had his own preconceived notions on when the best time to sit in the middle of her business was.
No one told half-Kneazles what proper behaviour was, apparently.
Severus had to admit to himself that since his— transition— he had become much more empathic to the beasts, and they seemed more keen to listen to his requests, or listen to him in general. Either way, he wasn't a fool to believe it was anything less than a priceless gift.
Part of him tried to make him to remember he wasn't exactly given a choice about the change, but the other part of him said there was one. He had felt the pull— the need to protect Hermione, and he was willing in that crucial moment to do whatever it took to be there for her. It had been Bertje's gift and hers combined— a blessing, not a curse.
And now— now he could truly fly.
There was a soft yell of protest as Draco was pinned by Fenrir after having won the chess game, and Snape snorted into his sleeve, marvelling at how it felt to be amused and not have to hide it stringently as he once had.
Hermione's smile was warm as she extended her hand to Draco, and the blond wizard took it with a huff, a bit irritated but not terribly so. He'd seen worse when he watched Pansy and Draco interacting.
Much, much worse.
Fenrir was panting merrily, tail wagging, and Hermione touched her neck to check if Tanith was there then ran her hand under Bertje's chin. The dragonet had grown almost overnight, shimmering with health and was now the size of a great eagle with wings to spare. Freedom had done the dragonet a great service, and Severus could agree that freedom was highly cathartic.
Blodwyn chirred from his shoulder. "We should get out and enjoy the cool night air. She likes it. You like it. It makes sense."
Severus furrowed his brows.
"Oh, don't look at me like that. You know it's true."
Severus grunted, sipping down the last of his tea. He stood, beckoning his young Apprentice without a sound, only by demeanor and the subtlest of motions. Hermione hopped up, her beasts in attendance, and she soothed them with her hands, letting them know they could stay and relax. The young pups and cubs seemed dubious. Obviously all the cool stuff was going to happen where she was, and it was only natural that if they didn't come some horrible, awful thing was sure to happen to her.
The moment they got up, Draco looked as if his absolute favourite biscuit had just been taken away from him, at denied being able to come with. Lucius gave his son a look that wasn't especially friendly, but Draco just pouted in response.
Once Hermione was "free" of watching eyes, Snape noticed how she unfurled her wings a little bit more, stretching them out and grooming them. Bertje crooned with approval, showing her how to properly groom her wings by example. He took note for later, not wanting to make a fool of himself in front of his own apprentice.
"Master, would you like me to groom your wings?" Hermione asked, looking up at him. "Bertje says it's important to make sure they are well-oiled and supple or they may not flex like they need to."
Severus started a little at the suggestion, but her expression was so innocent that he realised she wasn't hiding anything. There was no hidden agenda. There was only an honest offer for a simple, necessary thing. He nodded silently, allowing her to sit behind him. Having someone so close— to his vulnerable back— was an unreal sensation.
She pulled out a soft brush and worked his wings over, cleaning them of and dust and dirt or debris he might have picked up, then using her wand, carefully watered them down, washing them over. He flapped them when she was done washing, and they dried very fast even in the cooler night air.
She took out a flask of oil and smiled as he realised she was using the oil recipe he had taught her, filled with vitamins and herbs to strengthen and heal skin. She rubbed it over her hands and then smoothed it over his wing membranes, and he had to suppress a groan of pure pleasure as the oil both warmed and soothed in a way he hadn't expected it to. Even with his own recipe, the shock of such tough was more than a little rattling, shaking him to the core.
She massaged the oil into every nook and cranny of his wings, even the wing spurs and down to where his wings connected to his back. With every stroke he was more and more doomed, enraptured by such a simple yet profound thing as compassionate touch. He was clay, and she could have molded him into something monstrous and titanic, drooling with a thousand fangs and the writhing deep dripping from his mouth, and he wouldn't have cared. He understood why the creatures both beast and misunderstood gravitated towards her. Who wouldn't choose the bliss of such wondrous warmth over the torment of misunderstanding or being caged.
Some, he knew, would argue that many of them were still in cages of a different name, but perhaps that, too, was an illusion. Perhaps they were willing to submit to such boundaries because she was there, while before they had just lived day to day.
Living with the beasts and entities on a regular basis, he was starting to understand what a gift they had been given in Hermione's well of compassion. She only needed a little crumb of kindness, and she gave it back the world a hundred times over. She was far better than he, who was given kindness and usually looked for the carefully concealed hook that would kill him.
With a silent gesture, he took the oil and brush, and he carefully returned the favour, brushing out her wings for her, washing, and then oiling her wings. She slumped forward, making small sounds of pleasure as he did so, and he could feel her contentment. When he was done, she was a puddle in her own lap, her wings quivering with delight.
He handed her the flask of oil, and she took it. "Thank you," she said with a smile, tucking it away.
"Hn," he replied. "Come. Have your charm necklace on?"
"Yes," she replied with a nod.
"Let's enjoy the skies then," he said, spreading his wings.
They stood on a platform together, and it ported them up to the roof where a few tables and chair sat for people to watch the sunrise or set depending on the weather and time.
The Ministry, despite a number of unsavoury characters, actually had quite a bit of quality places to relax and get away from it all. Hermione and Master Edevane had been working on a sort of socialisation area where the beasts could get used to being around people in a safe environment. It wasn't going to work for some of them— some of them were older and more set in their ways, but for some of the younger and less lethal beasts that were just truly misunderstood, the experience could help bring another aspect of positivity to the Ministry in the form of animal therapy.
While hippogriffs were a little too quirky to be safe around people, even when young, the dragon-bat pups were insufferably cute and happy as long as they had fruit. Phoenix chicks were charmers no matter where they were, and budgie bees, despite their size, were excellent garden tenders as long as you didn't try to squish them. That rule went with just about all of the animals though, humans included.
When they arrived on the roof, there was an older couple sitting together sharing iced tea. They smiled and nodded politely.
"Fine night, Master Snape. Takin' the young miss for a fly?"
Snape nodded silently.
"Muggles are out tonight at a big festival west of here, but the nature reserves up north aren't so busy. Might want to head up north," the elder lady recommended.
"Thank you," Severus said with a respectful nod of the head.
They both fanned out their wings, and Hermione launched Bertje into the air. Tanith tightened her coils around Hermione's neck, not wanting to get accidentally dislodged, and she launched into the air after Bertje. Snape leapt up after her as the updraft carried them both up and away.
Getting up in the air was always interesting. While they could, technically, flap and get airborne, their wings were far more happy with gliding and catching thermals and updrafts, sailing on the currents of air like the condor. There was something exhilarating about falling into the wind and having it blow them up and away, and Snape had to admit that he was echoing Hermione's whoop of excitement as she shared her emotions to the skies.
Amelia had one of the other masters craft them rings that made them look like soaring birds when they flew to keep them from causing Muggle panic— or even Wizarding panic depending on who you asked. It was a great combination in case the Disillusionment he taught her failed, as she was young and "excitable", and excitable made for forgetfulness— even with someone as normally well-minded and practiced as Hermione.
It shouldn't have surprised him how fast Hermione took to anything— practicing everything from Disillusionment to Occlumency to potion making with equal fervor, yet she did surprise him over and over. A little encouragement, a nod, a tiny drop of approval, and Hermione attacked whatever project she set herself on like a bulldog or a Niffler after gold.
Scratch that, if Nifflers were somehow involved, they would probably bring her everything she wanted and then some, singing her praises as they did so. The goblins would either be super excited to see all the treasure she brought back or be really annoyed as all the shiny things from their vaults ended up in hers.
Bertje was happily leading the way north, and the setting sun was casting paint through the sky like a master's brush and lighting up the land and them with oranges and reds, purples, and even a hint of blue. The evening breezes felt wonderful as they glided along, and he had to smile a little at how Hermione dipped and revelled in the joy of flight, as if world was giving her compensation for all the heartache she had been through by gifting her with wings.
Whatever she may truly be, for now she was just growing up, and he was glad she was getting a more positive spin on her life in the magical world. He had to admit that his life was much better with her rampaging through it with him. He even got to, legally even, duel idiots to the death— not that he actually did the "to death" part. It would have disturbed Hermione, and he preferred her undisturbed.
Instead, he settled with wiping the floor with them or humiliating them. Or both.
He cracked a smile. It was like all the things he would like to do to the dunderheads at Hogwarts, only legally able to throw whatever spell he wanted.
Most people frowned on duels to the death with their children.
Psh.
Hermione did a barrel roll, spinning in the air with her wings tight to her body before flipping them out to catch a draft upward and away. She zoomed past him, backwards, and then caught up to him again, the softest brush of her wings against his as she took her place at his side, even in flight.
Bertje was showing her by example all the strange moves a dragonet could do, and since she could do it, Hermione had to try too. She dipped and swirled, darted, and glided, mimicking her familiar and trusting that since Bertje had gifted her wings that those wings could do whatever Bertje could. It was, if a bit naive, logical, but to her credit it was also correct, so far.
He wondered if Charlie Weasley felt even slightly guilty that he'd challenged an underaged witch with the gift of wings to a duel to the death for honour.
Maybe, his cynical self decided, he felt guilty only after realising that the girl could have somehow given him wings too, had he not been such a jackass. Though, truth be told, he didn't believe that Charlie would have qualified for such a gift. If Charlie was the type of person to challenge an unknown person to a life-threatening duel without having done his research first—
Hermione was gliding down to the lake, and she landed on a tree limb bat-style, flipping her legs up clasp the branch with her talons, her changed feet allowing her to cling there upside down. She gave a hearty giggle as Bertje slammed into her arms, and she cuddled the happy dragonet as she dangled, wings half open.
How easily she took to her new gifts— daring to try new things just from watching them first. Was it youth? Bravery?
He tried to remember what he would have done at her age had he been given such talents, but his younger self seemed to scoff at him for being an idiot. Wings didn't just happen to people, his younger self would have said. No, his younger self would never have believed it possible, lest he would have spent a lot of time trying to obtain that dream of flight on his own.
The dangling thing must have come from her dragonbat friends— all of them having invited her to cling to the fruit trees and socialise with them. They kept the orchards in the habitats perfectly tended, relying on them to feed them, and what self-respecting fruit eater would demolish their own source of food?
Hermione flipped herself up and sat on the top of the branch, letting her legs dangle as he landed beside her, grasping the branch with his hands to fall into a sitting position. She smiled as the sunset cast its beauty across the lake, closing her eyes to take in a deep cleansing breath before watching the colours dance and flow.
One wing gently touched his— habit perhaps or simple need to feel something or someone she knew close. It was innocently done; he knew she was a creature of touch and comfort. It had always been so— even when he couldn't allow himself to see it. He stilled the instinctive need to withdraw and snap at her— knowing that such instincts were from a different lifetime and a very different role.
She… trusted him.
And the scope of that trust was legion. She trusted him enough to do as he asked without begging the questions burning in her heart, saving them for when the task was done. That was quite the feat for the little bookworm, who had originally believed all could be found in books: answers and revelation.
Now, however, she allowed him to guide her down new paths and new ways of thinking. New magic came with it, new potions, and new beliefs of what was truly different between the light and Dark.
The truth was light and Dark magic were all magic, but only those born to the Dark used it without dipping into what the Ministry called unsavoury and even forbidden. Dementors and the like were Dark, yet they could not stop being what they were. Dark magic was a part of them.
Humans, however— they crafted spells to do more than what they would normally be able to do, dipping into the light and Dark and twisting it to their own ends. The only difference was, most of the "light" magic didn't require questionable blood, soul, and dangerous deeds— that was the price of dabbling in the Dark when you weren't born of it.
Hermione—
While she wasn't a Dark creature, she was most definitely attuned to both. She was balanced, with the potential of both at her beck and call, but due to her upbringing, she favoured the light yet still found comfort in the Dark's soothing embrace. Had Voldemort gotten his hooks into her as a child— something that, thankfully, his ego against "Muggleborns" would never have allowed him— she could have been twisted into a being that would have devoured the land in Darkness— with no pity or reason to care.
Thankfully, Mr and Mrs Granger, had raised their daughter with kindness and love, and that was what Hermione Granger shared with everyone she cared about.
Her ex-House Gryffindor idiots were complete fools to have spurned her. They just didn't know how badly they had made it for themselves spurning such a gift. It was obvious, at least to him, that there wasn't much she wouldn't do to help a friend or even just someone who had earned her respect. Even now, separated from her "peers" she set herself apart with how much generousity she had despite her differences with "normal" folk. She left money aside to compensate the storekeeper that had owned Bertje, even though a familiar bond did not require it in Wizarding law. She had shared her split of the money for perfect Liquid Luck before she had been apprenticed. She coaxed extra laden combs of honey out of the budgie bees, which she could have easily kept to herself but instead shared the gift of the bees with the DoM. She busied herself working on tasks that n o one else cared to do— simply because she liked being helpful. She did it all while dutifully doing whatever tasks and study he required of her, which wasn't exactly an easy task for a typical student her age.
Even so, since he knew she was a highly studious sort, taking time out for a fly and sunset was both therapy and reward. Snape had to admit that more often or not, nature tended to accept them as neutral allies— as long as the beasts weren't hunting, anyway. How they knew the difference was anyone's guess.
"Master?"
"Hn?"
"Would it be too much trouble to see my parents one of these days?"
Snape frowned, privately concerned that her parents might not respond very well to a daughter with inhuman features.
"I wouldn't worry," Hermione said. "Daddy used to tell me he was just waiting for my wings to grow in. Maybe he was right."
Snape blinked. Could they be so understanding? Was it really that simple?
"When did you wish to see them?" he asked.
"Well, tonight is mum's birthday, so—"
"Do you— have anything to bring her?"
Hermione smiled. "No, but I know what I'd like to take her if the store still has it."
"Oh, and what is that?"
"Funnybunny's Ever-Comfy Pajamas because mum always complains she never wears the right thing to bed because she's either too warm or too cold, and some of Madam Spicy's Dragonfire Mustard because she really loves spicy mustard."
Snape's brow lifted. "Well, let's go see what the stores have then, hrm?"
Hermione beamed. "Yes, Master!"
They launched off the branch and flew clear of the forest, touched wings, and—
Crack!
They were gone.
When they landed in the Grangers' back garden, Jean Granger let out a squeal of pure happiness as she scooped up her daughter into a hug, new wings and all. "Hermione! You came!"
Hermione wrapped herself around her mum with abandon, happy to see her parents again. "How do you always seem to know?"
Jean smiled knowingly. "The kitchen lizards got all excited and started making extra food."
Hermione laughed. "Aw, they're so sweet! I didn't realise they were helping you cook!"
"They cook better than your father," her mother confessed.
"Hey!" John Granger protested.
"Mum, dad, this is Master Severus Snape," Hermione introduced. "He's been taking care of me now that I'm out of Hogwarts."
"Ooo, what an expression you have there, dear," Jean said. "I know what will fix that right up." She trudged into the house. "Be right back!"
John sighed. "Now you've done it. She'll be bringing her special tea and whatever scrummy odds and ends she can find. Your winged friends have been completely turning us into a gourmet establishment. Bug free, of course. Oh, and look at you my bonny young lady! Real wings to go with those dreams."
He scooped his daughter up, giving her a hug. "See, I told you you're wings just hadn't grown in yet."
Hermione grinned. "Yes, you did. I brought mum a present," she said, waving the neatly-wrapped parcel.
"Ah, just put it there on the table by her chair. "She'll have to see it to put down the refreshments."
There was excited chatter as a swirl of winged lizards arrived in a swarm and clung to Hermione excitedly.
"What?" Hermione cried. "Daddy, you didn't say someone broke into the house!"
"Oh, those cheeky little tattletales," her father answered, tutting. "It was nothing, dear. Just some guy dressed up like Halloween come early. He was completely done over by the wee lizards. Mum found him bruised, bloody, unconscious and looking like he'd been in a serious fight with a box of scissors. He'd even been neatly hog-tied and gagged with an apple to the face. Short the drama of your mum screaming like a banshee, no one else was hurt. Might be serving some substantial time at Her Majesty's pleasure by now, though. Bloke was pretty strange, blathering on and having a good haver."
Hermione frowned. "What kind of nonsense was he saying?"
"Oh, something about a black lord, dark, or— I dunno, really. It was quite a lot of yammering and not much sense in it to be found. True nutter, he was."
"Dad, did they say anything else? Anything at all you recognised?"
Snape was now looking at Hermione's father with true concern.
John Granger rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "He did say something about someone named Lucius paying for his betrayal. Something about— the wrong sister, drinking the poison cup— it didn't make any sense."
Severus felt Hermione's worried gaze as he sent a Patronus zinging out from his wand. He stared at it as it zoomed away, his dark brows knitted in concern.
"Something wrong?" Hermione asked.
"That—" Severus trailed off. "That wasn't my usual Patronus."
"Your Patronus was a doe, wasn't it?" Hermione asked.
Snape nodded.
Hermione's lessons had made for a chimaera of sorts for a Patronus. Every time she made one, it seemed to rotate through various shapes as if it couldn't make up its mind. Snape, however, had had the same Patronus since he was in school— the doe, the embodiment of Lily.
Somehow, Snape's treasured memory of Lily had shifted— the happiness and utter ecstasy of having lost the mark on the day Molly had inadvertently tried to kill him had replaced that treasured place in his memory.
Now, his delicate doe had transformed into what looked like a guardian shīsā temple lion-dog— the almost leonine beasts that guarded many a Okinawan house and temple. While such things were normally carved in stone or fired in clay, the Wizarding world knew they were real— a remnant of when magicals lived amongst the Muggles and protected their families with zealous dedication.
"She's beautiful," Hermione said, smiling.
Snape looked at Hermione, wondering at her ability to accept such things so easily. Despite how commonplace it had become, it still boggled him. In accepting his Patronus, she was, by proxy, accepting a very intimate aspect of himself.
He wondered what Moody would think when greeted by the shīsā.
He wondered what Lucius would think, if Lucius knew about his being able to conjure a Patronus. That was something he kept secret from his old "friend", despite all of the latest drama. It was secret for his own self-preservation. Lucius was not that good at Occlumency, and the Dark Lord could read him like a book more often than not. It was only Lucius' smooth tongue and redirections that placated the Dark Lord— that and the money Lucius had access too. Money— connections.
"Dad, Master Snape will have to bring in some company. Please don't be alarmed, okay?"
Hermione, always on the spot, paved the way so he wouldn't have to.
John frowned but nodded in response, trusting his daughter.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
Moody arrived with Savage and Proudfoot in tow— and one proud-looking Nundu cub that was plastered to Alastor's head like a Native American headdress.
"Auch," Moody chuffed, prying the cub from his head. "There now, you did your job. Now be a good little lad and don't breathe on the family."
Zorion tilted his fuzzy head and seemed to shrug. "Mrowl."
"Savage, lock this place down. I want wards on every house, henhouse, outhouse, and doghouse in this immediate area," Moody barked. "Proudfoot, make sure there is nothing dangerous lying around here waiting to be triggered."
Pop!
Poppop!
Pop!
Winged lizards arrived and stared at the intruders, looking somewhat suspicious.
"They are friends," Hermione said calmingly. "That is Auror Moody. That is Auror Proudfoot, and that is Auror Savage. They are free to move about as they please."
The lizards gave them all toothy grins and popped back into the house with a blur of movement so fast, it was hard to even remember they had been there.
Moody looked at Hermione with a look that said "the hell" and "bloody hell" mixed together with a chaser of "buh."
"You know what those are, lass?"
"Winged lizards," Hermione said with a smile.
Alastor shook his head. "Those little fellas are pied dragon lizards and they've supposedly been extinct for centuries."
Hermione perked. "They're pretty plentiful to be extinct," she said with a pucker of her lips.
Alastor rubbed his hair with his hand. "Well, we thought they were extinct."
One of the lizards flew by and gave Alastor a cup of tea before flitting off.
Moody bit his lip, sipping the tea in contemplation. "How long have these little lizards been with your family?"
"Since I was—"
"Two," John Granger replied, rubbing his chin with his fingers. "She brought home a pair, and they took to the kitchen and began eating all the flies. They grew up fast and started to help the wife with carrying things and tending to the kitchen. More arrived, and your mum simply couldn't say no to them. They are real charmers, helpful, and— well, they seem to take care of intruders particularly well."
Alastor grunted. "Well, first things first. We need to move you two someplace safer, lizards and all— that intruder you had was no simple burglar. It was Rupert Gibbon, a known Death Eater and supporter of all things Dark. Think of a vicious criminal and dip it in extra bits of cruel, and that's him. He's known for thinking poorly of animals, both human and non, and his attitude is none too great either. We'll keep your house here safe in the meantime, but I don't want to risk you both being in danger if he got word to one of his friends before coming in."
John nodded grimly, taking his wife's hand with a gentle squeeze. Jean Granger looked a little rattled that her birthday evening was going from exciting to strange to alarming in the course of just a few minutes. "What can we take?"
"We'll take care of it, ma'am," Alastor promised, "once you are safely away from here."
While Alastor dealt with the elder Grangers, Hermione stood in the garden and closed her eyes. "Everyone! Your attention please!"
Flying lizards came zooming out from every nook and cranny of the house, inside and out. "Thank you for taking such good care of our house! But now we need to move to someplace safer for a while, so please don't think we're abandoning you!"
A swarm of pied dragon lizards flitted about, landing on her, rubbing up against her, tussling, and squabbling over the best perching spots. She touched every one of them, seemingly calling them all by names. They calmed down and seemed to hum together. She pulled out a tin, and one by one fed the lizards stunned and preserved flies—
Ah, so that is what she was saving all the flies for after so zealously de-flying the brewing lab, Snape thought with a soft chuckle.
The lizards bobbed their heads in appreciation and chattered amongst themselves. They all swirled around Moody's head and then disappeared— along with all the furniture and odds and ends in the house—
And the family.
"I'm telling you, Amelia, they plucked the location right out of my brain and moved it all in in the blink of an eye!"
Amelia eyed the fully furnished and moved-in safehouse that had someone been transformed into an exact duplicate of the Granger's house only in stone instead of brick. There was a faint haze of lizard activity as they moved things into place, exactly as it was in the old place, and bumping vases and other things into place with just a few millimeters of adjustment between bumps.
"You rediscovered an extinct species of pied dragon lizards?" Amelia asked, astonished.
Snape and Alastor both pointed at Hermione, who pointed at Fenrir.
Fenrir cocked his head curiously. "Browl?"
"I have Master Keelhaul and Master Stonewell debriefing them and getting them all set up until they can move back home," Amelia said. "It's going well thanks to the fact they didn't lose anything in moving, and now Master Edevane wants to know how the hell extinct and highly coveted pied dragon lizards are not only not extinct but actually thriving with a Muggle family. No offence, my dear, but they had always been something you'd expect in a Wizarding family."
"None taken," Hermione said. She was smiling at Grandfather as he distributed flies to each of the lizards as they flew by to "check in" with her. The Dementor oh-so-carefully made sure each lizard had a plump fly, and seemed to take the task on with enthusiasm. "If you want a breeding pair of your own, Dimitri, the one with the cross on his back in spots, has attracted a female from another territory, and they will be looking for a place with ample insects and a welcoming environment. Sunpatch and Nomad will not suffer them mooching off their territory anymore."
Amelia's jaw dropped as she sent out a Patronus zinging away as fast as she could swing her wand hand.
Granger Family Dentistry Opens in Ministry
Teeth So Clean, You'll Swear it's Magic!
There is a new shop open inside the Ministry, and you'd never think so many people wanted clean and sparkling teeth! Doctors John and Jean Granger opened a new shop a few weeks ago, and it's already bustling with activity.
They offer teaching about dental hygiene for children and standard care as well as more complicated procedures that are taken care of so smoothly that many of the new clients have sworn the pair are magical and not Muggles.
Those stopping by will find themselves entertained by the rare once thought extinct dragon lizards whose very presence seems to take the anxiety out of the visit.
In partnership with the Paw's Claws Apothecary, they offer a wide variety of potions and oral care products to keep that sparkling smile in your mouth where it belongs. Master Eddington Arbuckle is available on site for any cosmetic charms of a magical nature that do not fit within the normal scope of dentistry.
Stop by to say hello or have your teeth cleaned. You won't regret it!
Harry wasn't quite sure what to think when he sat nervously waiting to hear the Wizengamot's verdict. His healers had assured him that things would be a lot better for him soon, but they hadn't really explained how.
When Head Auror Scrimgeour came out— his hair framing his face like a lion's mane and his dour expression utterly inscrutable— Harry began to worry that he was being sent to gaol or whatever it was wizards and witches went to. Azkaban… that was it.
"Mr Potter," the stern-looking wizard said. "The Wizengamot has thoroughly reviewed your case and determined that you were living in an abusive situation during your time with the Dursley family. You are now to be placed in the care of Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt during your school holidays until your godfather is officially freed and pronounced physically and mentally fit to take on his position as the legal guardian named in your parents' will."
Scrimgeour wrinkled his nose. "Despite my— reservations—that means you will have to go wherever Kingsley is assigned if it would otherwise leave you alone." The older wizard scrunched up his face. "That means you will have to accompany him to the Quidditch World Cup while he watches over Apprentice Granger, as Master Snape will have business he must attend to. I trust this will not be a problem that will require you being reassigned?"
Harry shook his head almost violently. "No, sir!"
His excitement at the prospect of being at the Quidditch World Cup cancelled out any misgivings about being in his former potions teacher's presence… or Hermione's, for that matter.
"Will this be a problem, Mr Potter?" Scrimgeour asked.
"No, sir!"
Whether the head Auror believed him or not, he didn't say, but his suspicion caused Harry to realise that shameful stories of what the Hogwarts' student body had done to ostracise and drive away the brightest witch of her age had already become common knowledge outside of the castle. Namely, the adults knew what Hogwarts' student body would have much preferred to keep quiet.
Harry frowned. Hogwarts and the Weasley family would have preferred it— as both seemed to have a bit of a reputation now after the teamwork and synchronisation that seemed to define Hermione's potions apprenticeship was the talk of the Ministry for they had developed new life-saving potions the like of which guaranteed a more than comfortable life for the young witch if the rumours were to be believed.
Even Hermione's parents had apparently made the first and very successful dentistry business inside the Ministry, working with the Wizarding community to provide both Muggle and magical solutions to dental care—
Harry watched Scrimgeour go, and then he noticed the wizard stop and talk with a group of Aurors and a very intimidating and familiar wool-clad shape— only the robe moved, unfolding into what was the most impressive pair of obsidian and purple dragon wings he'd ever seen. Wing spurs— the like of nightmares, wickedly sharp and curved, hung from the both tips and the pinnacle of his wings.
Hermione was there, nestled under one wing, and she—
Harry's eyes bugged out.
She rubbed Snape's wing with her own, silently asking for something. Snape turned to her after a while and nodded. Hermione beamed back at him with such radiant happiness that Harry felt a crushing wave of shame for having missed just how joyful his "friend" could be with just a little attention to her needs over Quidditch, food, and— well, everything but her.
What he would have given for just one small piece of family— something he'd thought he had with the Weasleys. He had been so focused on that driving need that thinking of what Hermione needed had been sadly brushed under the rug.
Too headstrong.
Too study obsessed.
Bossy.
Pushy.
Could never admit she might be wrong.
Looked down on you when she thought you were.
He'd always thought she was jealous when anyone anyone even looked at Ron—
But after everything that had gone down at Hogwarts, Ginny stealing from her and the entire girl's dorm collectively shoving Hermione out, he'd started to think that maybe they'd taken that a bit far.
When Slytherin, on the other hand, didn't even show a lick of problems with accepting her, a Muggleborn witch, as Snape's apprentice, they'd shown up Gryffindor in both manners and self-control, something few had expected of the house everyone believed was full of ruddy Death Eaters.
And— Lavender had almost killed Hermione with the addition of the fire gecko skin, and perhaps it would have killed a few more students had Snape not been paying attention. Hell— if Hermione hadn't been paying careful attention too.
They'd thought her so focused, brewing so intently, that they'd never expect her to notice that slip of ingredients.
They'd been wrong.
Hell, even Filch had given Gryffindor the stink eye after the entire banishment ordeal.
The Whomping Willow, too, didn't seem very amused— up until the point where it just— left.
Harry had just begun to realise that his ideal family had some serious problems of their own— not that they were exactly worse than the Dursleys, but they definitely had their own set of issues.
Maybe, he thought, there was no perfect family. It wasn't something his heart wanted to admit in the slightest, however. He still wanted more than anything to believe his parents had been perfect, wonderful people before the Dark Lord murdered them. He wanted so much to believe all the good things he had always dreamed of—of what Hagrid had told him they were like.
He could touch their pictures— see their images so clearly in the Mirror of Erised.
Yet, maybe there was more to them than just those cheerful, happy smiles with his mother's hand making his baby hand wave at the camera.
Maybe.
Remus always talked about them so wistfully—
Surely he wasn't lying.
But maybe— maybe Remus and Hagrid weren't looking at things impartially anymore than he had.
Looking at Hermione giving Snape such a look…
Snape.
Snape!
Remus had always been such a nice wizard— kind to him and willing to talk about his father and his mother. Harry had soaked it all up, the stories and the memories, wishing so hard that he could have known them. But Remus had also been trying to hide Sirius Black on the night he had sent Hermione's Dementor friend away with a Patronus.
"Dementor" and "friend" was hardly something he thought should go together in the same sentence. Even knowing what he already knew, that was a pretty hard sell. Dementors were—
Well, Remus was absolutely adamant that they were the most evil creatures to walk, er… float, across the face of the Earth.
Yet—
One of the scariest-looking Dementors was offering Hermione a huge blackberry swirl ice cream cone, and she smiled at it gratefully, placing a kiss on its cheek before taking the cone and licking it with enthusiasm.
And as if that wasn't disturbing enough, the Dementor offered both Snape and Scrimgeour cones too. A double dark chocolate cone for Snape, and a maple walnut cone for Scrimgeour. Snape nodded his thanks, and Scrimgeour looked utterly gobsmacked, like some miraculous phenomenon had happened right before his very eyes.
The air suddenly became intensely cold, and Harry shivered, rubbing his hands against his arms. A Dementor hovered in front of him and extended a banana split ice cream cone. The Dementor was seemingly decked out in a multitude of shiny trinkets— a jeweled crown of some sort adorned his head and a silver locket around his neck.
Harry gulped and accepted the cone tentatively. "Um, thanks."
The Dementor tilted its head briefly in response and floated back towards Hermione.
Hermione was looking at him, and Harry wasn't sure if he should look away or keep up eye contact. She had this air of watchful wariness about her now and shame tickled at his heart, as he understood that he had played a significant part in putting it there.
And yet… her influence on the Dementors was obviously positive. Ice cream was undoubtedly positive.
"Hello, Harry," Hermione said with a cautious nod of her head.
Harry fidgeted nervously. "Hello, Hermione."
Hermione had finished her ice cream, and used some sort of cleansing charm that washed her hands off and left a soft citrusy scent behind.
"Your ice cream is melting," she said, giving him the arched eyebrow.
Harry startled and attempted lick his ice cream before it melted though the cone and all over him.
"I don't he can be trusted," Alastor Moody barked, "to keep out of trouble when asked. Trouble finds the boy, Rufus. It's proven. His hand or no."
Scrimgeour sighed. "That is why the Wizengamot has him with Kingsley and not some random foster family," he replied. "Kings is no fool, Alastor."
"I'm not saying that," Moody growled. "I'm saying it would be hard for anyone to do their job and take care of the boy and keep him out of trouble. It may not have been his fault directly that the Weasleys went barmy but living with an Auror is hardly a safe life either."
Scrimgeour sighed. "Mr Potter's conditions at the Dursley household were abusive," he said. "The Muggle authorities were convinced that at least the boy had a roof over his head and he wasn't completely starving to death, so it was acceptable compared to other kids with even less. We must do our best to give him a better life."
"Bah," Moody growled, waving his hand and then stomping off towards Hermione. He glowered at Harry even as Hermione smiled at the gruff old Auror.
"Hello, Auror Moody," Hermione said cheerfully.
"Allo, lassie," Moody said. "Waiting on Severus to finish his talks?"
Hermione nodded. "He's always suffering through so many long, boring conversations."
Moody snorted. "Well, that means I'm with you then, lassie. What plans do you have to take over the world?"
Hermione chuckled. "Nothing quite that great."
"Yet."
Hermione smiled. "My Master said we could go for lunch, if we wished to, rather if you would like to accompany me."
"I wouldn't mind a little home Blodwyn cookin' if that is what you mean," Moody said.
Hermione grinned. "Blodwyn loves cooking, so it's a deal."
"Mind if we join you?" Kingsley said, giving Alastor the eye.
Moody curled his lip. "Just don't summon the Dark Lord or any crotch beetles."
Kingsley visibly shuddered. "No thanks."
"Fine. Just give me a few minutes to adjust the wards to let Potter inside without vapourising him."
Harry's green eyes went comically wide.
Moody took Hermione's arm and they disappeared with a crack.
Harry stared into the hearth where a pile up of puppies on fire smoldered away in contentment.
Moody thumped him on the head. "Don't stare too hard. Aine is quite possessive of her pups around new folk."
Harry blinked and tried to turn away, but the pups were just so adorable— even if they were half-molten and dripping lava.
Hermione brought over a large shank of something— the fur still on it, and dragged it over to the hearth with her one hand, a levitating spell doing most of the work for her until she released it. It landed with a thump, and she ruffled-played with a giant volcanic nightmare bitch that made Fang look like a puppy. The pups are gathered around the potential meal, growling and tussling.
Hermione, however, cut pieces off the haunch and fed the mother first, at least tokenly, and Harry's eyes bugged out of his head as the bitch licked Hermione's face with her lava-coated tongue. Hermione giggled, ruffling her scruff and giving the beast some sort of hand signal. The hound made a growling rumble, and the pups all attacked the meat as they attempted to outdo each other in the feeding race.
Harry realised with some discomfort that the volcanic bitch was watching him, very, very, intently.
"Don't stare, boy," Kingsley rumbled. "They don't take too kindly to that."
But she's staring at me, Harry's unspoken protest reared its ugly head.
Kingsley gave him a look that said he knew exactly what Harry was thinking, and he turned away, bowing his head in acceptance. He wasn't used to being under such scrutiny that had nothing to do with his uncle's obsession to find fault in him. For once, he was getting the kind of attention that set him in line for the kind of reasons parents, guardians, or any adult that actually cared about the younger generation would uphold. Hogwarts seemed less strict— there were so many students and only so many teachers, prefects, and heads— yet…
Kingsley seemed to genuinely care. That was an unexpected thing for him.
Harry had only gotten so far with the Weasleys serving as his surrogate family, Just when he thought things were good… things were suddenly not so good.
"Ahh!"
Thump.
Hermione was wriggling under a pile of large leopard cubs— only they seemed a little bit too intelligent to be the common, everyday sort of leopard.
"Pffft!" she cried, shoving them to the side. They purred, batting playfully at her face with clawless paws. Hermione grimaced at them, showing her—
Fangs?
She snuggled the cub nearest her, baring her fangs and rubbing one side and down the other. The cubs mrowled and rubbed up against her before she put them down. Next to another haunch of meat. She greeted the huge leopard with a hug and rubs, and the beast thumped her down and gave her a good grooming over.
Hermione's poor hair looked like a toddler's clay sculpture. She sighed and felt her head. "It looks horrible, right?"
Harry nodded.
She sighed and shook her head. "I've learned to live with it. Each time she does it, it becomes even more like fur and a mane instead of human hair— I think."
She ran her hand through her hair-mane-sculpture. "Have you been doing okay, Harry? Since.. Well, you know."
Harry made a face. "Good, I guess. The scar is gone. That's a positive thing, right?"
Hermione nodded.
"The insanity with Molly Weasley though—"
Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm sorry you were caught up in that mess."
Harry shrugged. "Not your fault." It was his turn to be thoughtful. "I wasn't a very good friend to you, was I?"
Hermione wrinkled her nose and looked down. "I don't think you ever really were my friend, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "You were always Ron's best mate, but me— you pretty much just tolerated me because I had helped you with homework the night before."
Harry looked down. "He was the first person I met that didn't look at me like I was some kind of freak. His family treated me nice. I wanted a family so much, Hermione, and they seemed so much better—"
"Harry, from what they said at the meeting, it wouldn't take much to be better than what you had at the Dursleys," Hermione said with a nod.
"You were in there?"
Hermione tilted her head. "Of course I was. My master was there."
"Oh, right," Harry replied, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "I guess I keep forgetting you were basically adopted."
Hermione made a face. "He's my teacher. My mentor, not my father, Harry," Hermione said. "I have quite a few teachers, now, but Master Snape is my provider and teacher. He has the ultimate say on what I am ready to learn."
Harry couldn't help but scoff. "You trust Snape to tell you when you're ready when he wouldn't let any of us brew anything no matter how hard we tried?"
Hermione schooled her face. "He's not like that when it's not a large class filled with people who'd rather be playing Quidditch or exploding snap and doing their hair or discussing fashion rather than paying attention to what he was trying to teach."
Harry said nothing, but the disbelief was written clearly on his face.
Harry almost flew off the chair he was in when a large, fluffy black spider with a red skull shape on her back popped in along with a tray loaded with a mouthwatering array of sandwiches, homemade chips, bowls of soup, and other refreshments the likes of which he'd not even seen at Hogwarts feasts.
"Oh hai!" the spider said cheerfully. "You look like Harry. Harrys tend to like toasties. Hrm, how about turkey, Camembert and cranberry? Maybe a goat cheese croque madame?" She peered at Harry a little harder with all of her eyes. "Hrm, maybe cheese and tomato— or maybe cheese and leek. Oh! Maybe. chicken, jack cheese and jalapeno?"
The spider poofed and returned in a bare second, putting a plate of various cheese toasties on a platter. "Here you go! I made you a Monte Cristo sarnie. French toast filled with ham, turkey, and Swiss cheese that you dip in syrup. Maple, of course. Thick as taffy. You can use some of the berry preserves if you feel it needs something more. But the cheese toasties will keep you occupied in case your palate rebels."
Poof!
She was gone.
Harry just stared, completely speechless.
Hermione laughed. "That's Blodwyn, the most prepared and talented Mark spider in the world, I think."
"Ach, you met the lady arachnid. Good. Treat her right, boy, or there'll be hell to pay. She makes the absolute best spreads and puts any house elf to shame."
"I—" Harry just trailed off, unsure what to do or say, so he took the sarnie and promptly stuffed his face.
Kingsley, who was more subtly eating his cassava leaf soup, thick with seafood and smoked chicken, just shook his head. "He'll be ruined now. House elves will seem positively prehistoric by comparison."
"He cannot have her," Snape said from the door as he practically whooshed in in a blur of wings and black wool.
"Hello, Master!" Hermione greeted. She rushed up to him and bowed her head, but one wing reached out to brush up against his.
Snape looked down at her with barely a change in expression, but she smiled at him. "Lunch is ready!"
"Excellent," he said with a nod. "I trust you didn't blow anything up in the kitchen," he asked Alastor.
"Bah, I know my way around a kitchen," he retorted. "I can even make a damn fine cup of coffee."
Snape still seemed somewhat dubious.
"I had no idea you had such a talented arachnid, Severus," Kingsley said approvingly. "This cassava leaf soup is superb."
Snape sighed. "It's a curse."
Alastor snorted. "The right kind of curse, if you ask me, lad." He nodded approval.
Mrowl!
Alastor had stopped petting the cub— but there was something eerie about it. Its eyes were an unnerving green that glowed.
"Ach," Alastor sputtered as a molten pup clambered over his lap.
He ruffled and rubbed the pup all over, and the pup happily squirmed and rolled over, exposing his belly.
"Love you too, a chuilein. "
"You spoil Kai too much," Severus muttered as he sat down for lunch.
"No such thing," Alastor said, smirking. He flicked the cooled lava off his face.
"You just want pristine baby skin," Kingsley ribbed.
"That would be the lassie, aye?" Moody said.
Snape snorted. "That ridiculous nickname of hers is—"
"Utterly endearing," Alastor chuckled.
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Demeaning."
"Bah," Kingsley snorted. "It's not an insult, man."
Hermione smiled. "I don't mind."
Snape waved his hand in dismissal.
Harry boggled when Hermione gently placed her wing against Snape's and smiled at him. The dour wizard curved his warm wing around her, his expression softening. His teeth bared in what seemed like a grimace— mouth full of sharpened, dagger-like fangs, but Hermione seemed to beam even more brightly.
Hermione took her place by Snape's side, dutifully serving her master first before herself. She stroked the large fluffy spider that appeared with a freshened teapot, and tickled her under the chin. The spider cooed happily and poofed back into the aether. Hermione waited for Snape to start eating before she tended to her own, tearing into her toasted chicken and cheese sandwich with relish.
Harry practically inhaled his food, the war to devour and savour conflicting with each other. He eyed Hermione with a bit of discomfort, unsure how to feel about her quick adaptation to Snape being her master. Everything Ron had told him had been overwhelmingly negative.
"Slavery is wot that is," Ron had insisted. "You trade off your freedom to some random person who uses you as slave labour, trusting that they won't just use you for however long they want and teach you little to nothing. You're better off at Hogwarts, where you at least can learn what everyone else is learning."
Harry remembered the unmistakable disgust on Ron's face as he spoke of it.
But watching Hermione and Snape interact—
It looked like respect to him. Mutual respect, at that. It definitely wasn't what he had expected to see.
Hermione wasn't the kind of person to support slavery at all, especially considering her outrage upon finding out about the use of house-elves. And she looked genuinely happy—
Stockholm Syndrome?
Thinking for a moment, Harry shook his head, dismissing that possibility as not very likely.
Hermione was giving him a look that seemed to read his thoughts far better than he would've preferred.
"I'm not a slave, Harry."
Harry jerked his head.
"You're a pretty easy read," Hermione said. She tilted her head, yet it wasn't so unkind as he expected. Or deserved, he privately admitted.
Harry looked down, staring into his tea.
Hermione took in a breath and released it like a sign. "It's fine, Harry. I'm sure you weren't told the truth of things."
Harry nodded. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm still trying to— understand a lot of things. I found out Sirius Black wasn't trying to murder me, but he's my godfather, and I could have lived with him all this time only he tried to kill someone when he was our age."
Hermione frowned.
"But I'd still want to be with him and not my aunt and uncle. He'd still be— better!" Harry almost-yelled, trying to justify either to himself or Hermione and falling somewhere neither.
Hermione creased her brows. "I'm not sure what to tell you, Harry. I would have a hard time sleeping in the same house as someone who could even think of committing murder."
"But you do right now!" Harry hissed.
Hermione scowled. "That's not fair, and you know it!"
"No, I don't! He's a bloody Death Eater! I heard the Weasleys talking about it. They wouldn't lie about something like that!"
"I'm sure they believed every word, Potter," Alastor said. "Just as I did. But you didn't hear from them how Molly Weasley cut Severus up in public in the middle of the Ministry atrium accusing him of horrible things just like that. Did you, boy?"
Harry jerked up his head. "But—"
"You're still thinking like they're all perfect, boy,"Alastor said gruffly. "No one really is, but they aren't right either."
Harry had a frustrated look on his face.
Kingsley sipped his tea, then fixed the young wizard with a most serious look. "Harry, one of the greatest lessons you will ever learn in life is that you cannot trust the word of anyone blindly. Even when it comes to those you know and trust, you should always question how they came to that conclusion. You may agree, yes. You may disagree, but it will and should be your decision based on the complete picture."
Harry made a face and nodded, still not quite convinced.
"I may be your guardian, but it doesn't mean everything I say is right. It does mean you have to respect my judgement in order for me to properly take care of you, but my opinion is still my opinion, and there is a great difference between opinion and truth, sometimes. The truth can be… fickle and elusive. Just as the saying goes, not all who wander are lost. Not all who do certain things do them for the reasons you think they do. Can you say that you knew Arthur Weasley was Imperiused? Do you think that Charlie Weasley was right to challenge a fourteen-year-old apprentice to a duel to the death was justified? Do you think it was right for a grown witch to lose her cool and attack someone at the Ministry just to show someone how 'wrong' they were?"
Harry winced.
"Life is complicated," Kingsley said. "The bright and shining are not always skilled. The physically imperfect are not always evil and twisted anymore than your aunt and uncle believe you are the bane of all things living for the magic you bear or the parents you once had."
Harry hung his head, grimacing.
The Dementor with accoutrement floated in and floated beside Hermione. A soft hiss and a gush of frozen air came from its mouth.
"Oh! Thank you, Bling!" Hermione said with a warm smile. She reached over to give the Dementor a peck on the cheek. "Master, Bling says that the cauldron is 'sufficiently frozen' for you."
"Thank you," Severus said, nodding to the Dementor. He stood. "I must check on this brew immediately, if you do not mind, Alastor."
Moody grunted. "Tis fine, Severus. Do what you have to do."
Severus looked at Hermione silently. One wing curved, brushing against hers, and then he was gone with a crack.
Hermione smiled at the pup and cub that had leapt into Snape's vacant chair. They lay down, watching her. She soothed them with her hand but did not feed them from the table. They seemed perfectly content to keep her company without begging.
Harry kept staring, unsure of what to think. Hermione seemed to be quite at ease both with authority and her creatures, and he'd never really pinned her for a magical creatures sort— not like the ones at Hogwarts that were always trying to sneak into the forest to look for unicorns. She'd always wanted the approval of her teachers, so that seemed less surprising, but Harry never understood that, either.
Teachers weren't friends, after all.
Friends were what kept you afloat.
Lunch was a strangely casual affair, which surprised Harry. He wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't the gourmet meal served via arachnid at the stern Auror Moody's residence. He was as sharp at observance as he was vigilance, and he reminded him of Minerva McGonagall in the way he watched everything he did.
Unlike Harry, however, whenever the Auror put his attention on Hermione, she would smile at him, paying attention to whatever thing he snapped at her about as if he'd said it with a smile and hug— things he would have considered demeaning to do.
Washing the dishes? Really? In the ruddy magical world?
Hermione handled the china reverently, carrying them a little at a time to the kitchen, and the smell of lemon-scented soap wafted in from the next room over.
"Have these really been in your family for hundreds of years, Auror Moody?" Hermione asked as she put the china away in the cabinet.
"Aye, lassie. I've had it, and before me my mam, and before that hers," Alastor replied. "Thank you for taking such good care of it."
Hermione beamed. "It's not a problem. I know how much you worried about it when Mr Crouch tried to destroy your home."
Moody grunted. "Feels like they've been around long enough that they deserve a little gentle TLC," he said.
"You can feel the ages they've lived through," Hermione said with a smile. "They want to be used. Touched."
Moody nodded. "You catch on quick, lass."
Hermione beamed at him as she carefully latched the china cabinet and gave it a respectful pat.
Rowrrl.
The couch was filled with a very large leopard, who promptly made herself at home. She was easily big enough to ride—
"Ready to go for a walk?" Hermione asked.
The large leopard leapt up and stepped over her cubs, dislodging them with fluid feline effectiveness.
The largest wolf Harry had ever laid eyes on— tattered of ear and criss-crossed with battle scars— leapt out from the shadows under the window and tail wagged.
"Oh, you big goof," Hermione said, giving the huge wolf a hug. "Did you finish your bone?"
Fenrir yawned in her face, giving her bone breath.
The Nundu placed a huge paw on Fenrir's muzzle and clawlessly batted him away, breathing a strange green cloud at Hermione.
"Fftttp! No need to be jealous," Hermione laughed. "Careful, we have guests today that aren't immune to you."
Tesfaye glowered at Harry, but Hermione took one hand and guided the leopard's head back to her. She looked her in the eye, and the large leopard seemed to shrug.
"Shall we go, Auror Moody?"
"Do I need to wear the lava-proof trousers?" the Auror asked with a wrinkle of his nose.
"Only if you want trousers when we're done."
The large volcanic hound panted happily, giving Auror Moody a lava-rich slurp to the side of the face.
"Good thing most of my stuff is now lava-proof," Moody muttered. "Well, come on then, lass," he said. "Been a while since we had a good run with the four-legged polo-beasts."
Aine knelt for Alastor to pull himself up and over, and Hermione got a lift from Bling onto Tesfaye's back, and Fenrir thumped into her side and slobbered on her leg.
"Fen!" Hermione laughed at the beast's antics. "Tesfaye gets to have her turn too."
The wolf tail-wagged, ready to go.
"Coming, Kings?" Moody grunted. "You can ride the wolf, if Fenrir is feeling magnanimous."
Fen looked over to Kingsley and tail-wagged eagerly.
"Do I get a saddle?"
"Psh, you can ride a broom without losing your bollocks, you can ride a werewolf."
Kingsley looked dubious.
"Werewolf?!" Harry blurted, his eyes going comically wide.
"Fear not, you, Harry, get the broom."
Harry babbled incoherently as Kingsley leapt upon Fenrir's back like a seasoned wolfrider, with the kind of flair Kingsley was apparently all too good at. A broom smacked into Harry from the cupboard, and Harry stood there stupidly, unsure of what to do.
"You do know how to use a broom, boy?" Moody barked the question.
Harry startled. "Yes, sir."
Harry had barely managed to mount his broom when the group disembarked as a force seemed to push them out of the house and firmly close the door behind them. Hermione was in the lead, plastered on the back of the giant leopard beast as it ran— so very un-leopardlike— its great strides taking it forward preternaturally fast. Moody was not far behind, gripping into the happy volcanic hound. Kingsley took up the rear, clinging to Fenrir's furry scruff. Meanwhile, the trail of cubs and pups followed, yipping and mrowling with pure excitement as a wave of magic turned them all into riders on horseback as they bolted across the fields together.
Hours later, when Harry passed out cold into some semblance of an exhausted coma on Moody's guest bed, he realised that the real magic in the world wasn't the kind that came with waving a wand but in the sheer incomparable joy of living in the moment.
Maybe, he thought to himself, there was something more to the world than what he'd thought he wanted, for these people had obviously grasped onto something wonderful, and they weren't even family.
End of Chapter Four
