Summary: AU/Crack, SSHG, Severus has always kept his Animagus form on the down-low ever since he almost tore Lupin to pieces in self-defence. Every so often though, he just needs to go for a bloody walk and enjoy the night air. That was the way it was supposed to work, anyway.
Beta Love: Publishing Unsupervised! AHHHHH!
Guess again, birdie! - Dragon
Dragon and the Rose caught me again!
The Hellhound and the Nundu
A Short by Corvus Draconis
I think that the shame of being different is very painful for a lot of people.
Min Jin Lee
Severus let out a long huff as he flopped down into the night-cooled grass, his aching muscles from the past week, month— hell, who was he fooling, years of torment from that bloody gang of Potter's—
Now, Lily's fear of him had caused her to become yet another reason people could never be trusted.
All because when Lupin had tried his very best to maul him as a werewolf— he had turned into something much bigger and ultimately even more pissed off—
Now, the Headmaster had sworn him to secrecy to protect the seriously "injured" Lupin, who would probably be limping for life, Black, who had lost his pretty voice with some introduction as to why the phrase "go for the throat" had become a thing, Pettigrew, who had lost a hand and all the toes from his left foot, and Potter himself, who probably wouldn't have full range of motion in his shoulder ever again.
Lily was convinced he was a vicious, vindictive monster, and whatever hope he might have had of making up with her after the infamous Mudblood incident had tanked utterly. All the years of friendship had counted for nothing in the end. Saying he was sorry. Nothing. Meaning it. Nothing. It was as if he no longer existed, and the Gryffindors had (without actually breaking the vow) made up something even worse for her to think about him.
And she believed it.
She believed THEM… over him.
The only compensation he was getting from Dumbledore was permission to walk around at night to "relax" which was really his way of letting Snape get away from the wankers— of course, he never said it like that.
Severus had done all the paperwork to register his rather bizarre Animagus form which had been listed as "unknown species of dog" because no one was really sure what the heck he was. He did, at least, get a free pass on that thanks to it being a stress-related transformation— unlike Potter, Black, and Pettigrew.
They had to explain why they were unregistered Animagi all the while trying desperately not to blab about Lupin's somehow-undiscovered status as a werewolf.
How Dumbledore managed to keep that a secret— well, Snape was certainly used to being on the receiving end of the Headmaster's favouritism towards Gryffindor.
People would only disappoint you, let you down, and abandon you when you truly needed a friend. People were idiots, dunderheads, and—
THUMP!
Severus' eyes widened as a— cat was like calling a cave bear "just a bear"- fell upon him and immediately started tackling his neck scruff, ears, and head.
So started was he that he could only lay there in the grass and get chewed and mauled on by—
By—
Prrrt!
The feline-ish "thing" which might have been a cub or something half-grown— still decidedly baby chubby as young animals were known to be— unlike him whose Animagus form was just as tall and lanky as his human self.
THUMP!
A large, clawless paw hit his muzzle as the—
Spotted markings.
Honey brown fur.
Amber eyes.
Green spots in the ears.
Sabre-like teeth that would be the envy of a sabre-toothed predator of old—
Oh gods.
It was a Nundu.
Mrrrrowl?
The "little" beast, which was only little because his size was not exactly small, used all four legs to tackle his head and bring it down as its muzzle clamped (strangely without breaking skin) on his and her paws clawlessly pummelled his neck and head.
What the hell did you do when being attacked by a Nundu?
He kept perfectly still.
He might be some hound of Hades, according to speculation at the registry, but Nundu were— well, they were Nundu!
A hundred wizards struggled to bring one of those down!
The young creature flopped against his head and purred, rubbing its cheek against him with feline possessiveness. That, at least, was universal feline.
His nostrils flared. Female. Pretty sure. His nose rarely failed him, and in his hellhound form, it was even more sensitive.
She snuggled against his neck and head, body thrumming with the power of her purr. It resonated deep within him, causing gears to turn, instincts to war within him, and—
SLURP!
He groomed the young feline interloper furiously, unable to stop himself, his tail wagging without his permission. When she wriggled, his paw pinned her down, and she mrowled and wiggled like she was being put out—
But she didn't struggle, really. Her rough tongue pegged his muzzle, nose, eyes— anything she could get in range.
He set his head down over her like the lid of a cauldron so only her tail stuck out from between his front legs. The end of the tail twitched back and forth.
PrrrRRRrrRRRrrrrr!
Severus couldn't help the fierce surge of protectiveness that came over him, and he began to drool lava profusely before frantically slurping the young creature over— a creature who seemed utterly oblivious to being bathed in molten rock. If anything, she seemed to sigh in profound relief as every single parasite, flea, tick, or other annoyance instantly died a horrible molten death.
PrrRRRrrRRRRrRRRR!
She snuggled up against his chin, bonking it with her head with blissful abandon.
He thumped one paw over her and ceased her shenanigans, laying his great head down over her with a soft whuff.
It was a really good thing, he decided, that whatever he was was big. Hellhound. lava dog. Whatever the hell he was.
She didn't seem to mind.
She puffed out a cloud of greenish-blue vapour, and it smelled of ripe raspberries.
He hoped that was a good sign and he wasn't going to keel over in a few seconds with a thousand and one purple pustulant boils and (literally) explosive diarrhoea.
Hell, what would that do to him as— whatever he was? He was going to have to make something up just so he could stop speculating on what he was with myriad different names.
As he looked down into the cub's distinctive orange-green eyes, he noticed shimmering electric-like magic there and a bright, smouldering intelligence hidden behind the enthusiastic feline instincts. And, now that all that energy had finally found a way out, it seemed that there was some serious thinking going on in that almost-feline's head even as he felt a strange, crawling sensation in his head— an oozing warmth, like a soothing massage oil spread throughout him from head to toe, filling up the empty spaces he hadn't even realised he'd had with what could only be described as a liquid hug.
He knew in that very moment, if he didn't leap up and break contact, he would be bound forever in that warmth, companionship—
His mind screamed at him to get up, move, and not submit to the terribly frightening unknown!
His heart practically snapped its strings and went straight up to strangle the brain itself for daring to keep him from this, this wonderfully ecstatic feeling of acceptance, affection, and unconditional—
What was this—?
His brain screamed at him: resist!
Trust no one!
Everyone used him!
His head jerked back even as he fought with himself, and he saw the droop in her entire body and the deep sadness in her eyes as she believed he was rejecting her. Suddenly, he saw a series of images in his head— the sneers at and mocking of a bushy-haired young girl by her own Gryffindor housemates, gravestones blurred by the pelting of heavy rain and tears, days and nights of constant harassment from her "peers" because while she was far too intelligent for the dunderheads surrounding her, she wasn't very good on a broom—
Driven out into the pounding rain— her face strewn with tears as she and her dress seemed to spontaneously fly to pieces as a young Nundu cub tore across the Hogwarts' green, running, running, running—
Until the rain stopped, and the smells changed, and there were all these new instincts, and all these— ohhellowillyoubemyfriendareyoualonetoocanIplaywithyouplease?!
He's all warm and comforting and his ears are so chewy and purrrrrrrrrr is this what love is?
He smells sooooo good— like spiced cider and woodsmoke and bonfire toffee—
Wouldn't it be so great to have someone understand?
Someone who didn't mind me being— me?
Someone to study with—
To read with—
Someone who could understand that I just don't like brooms—
Oh no! He hates me! He hates me! Just like everyone else! Just like EV—
Snape's jaws closed around the Nundu's scruff and dragged her between his forelegs as he bathed her thoroughly in warm lava drool.
She wriggled and mrowled, settling, her paws all sticking up in the air as he made eye contact with her.
I'm sorry, he thought to her as hard as he could. I— I've had a life a lot like yours. Some better. Some even worse. If you're really sure, I would very much like to be your friend. Um….what is your name that I may address you properly?
She cocked her head and licked her jowls, her long whiskers dripping hardened lava from his earlier attentions. Hermione. Like in Shakespeare's 'A Winter's Tale.'
Her. Mio. Ne. Snape carefully sounded it out. I'm Severus.
Severus! Like the Roman emperor! She poofed out her mane of spikes and fur with excitement. How noble! I hope you like your full name. I hate nicknames. I mean, I guess I'd call you one if you really didn't like your name, but I think your name is pretty great and—
Severus clamped his mouth over her muzzle. Slow down, your thoughts are very, um … hyper.
Sorry! Her ears flattened. I didn't know I could talk like this!
Obviously, he replied, realising a mental smirk was just as effective— either that or his muzzle was twisted into much the same expression.
Will you really be my friend? Her mind voice was wistful and hopeful but also clearly expecting the worst.
He thumped his paw against her head. You could find comfort from this? Someone like me?
Don't be thick, Severus. Of course! You smell wonderful, and you're very warm and comforting.
I'm covered in molten lava!
It's comforting!
Snape wrinkled his muzzle, tilting his head in utter confusion. And scales.
Protective.
And feathers on my tail.
I'd imagine it's a lot like a velociraptor or yutyrannus— though probably not as much to keep warm since you're covered in lava and all that too…
Severus realised as the young Nundu spewed facts like the library reference section came to life that he'd never be told to be quiet while he was sharing information ever again. How many times had he tried to have a debate with Lily only for it to end up with him just clamming up so she wouldn't punish him for at least the next week for the terrible sin of being right?
That warm feeling was back as his dark eyes met hers, and he swore her orange-green eyes were every bit as molten as his body, the fire in them seeming to leak out like radiant wisps of colour. This time, as his argumentative idiot of a brain attempted to protest yet again, he promptly kicked it to the kerb and let his heart do the driving for once. That glorious warmth—
The feeling of— was it love?
Could it be love? So quickly? So real?
While his mind's muffled protest that it was a trap and that she couldn't be trusted started to take a back seat at last, Severus tenderly groomed the Nundu-witch, covering her furry body with rapidly cooling stone. Her low thrumming purr seemed to spread throughout his body as the scent of fresh raspberries escaped her mouth, and a deep growl resonated from his throat. A foreign contented feeling settled in his soul, and he flopped onto his side.
She cuddled into his warm neck as that utter contentment turned to drowsiness, and the two of them fell sound asleep as their magic entwined. It danced across both fur and feather, scale and skin, and all things in-between before twisting around the other's until the cords could not be distinguished from each other.
Perhaps for the very first time, each of them slept secure in the warmth of companionship and a trust reforged from shattered pieces both had thought forever broken. There, underneath the sky and moon with nothing but the celestial to witness the event so random and yet so significant, Hermione Granger found friendship with Severus Snape.
And if the Headmaster's brow furrowed as he swore he heard the castle chuckling quietly to itself, no one noticed but the ever-attentive portraits.
Perhaps, had Albus not been too busy muttering to himself and stalking off to sleep, he might have noticed a rather satisfied-looking Phineas Nigellus Black steepling his fingers and drumming them together.
"You should never forget that Hogwarts is very much alive and always listening to those who live within Her walls, Headmaster. Sometimes, She even takes matters into Her own hands when a certain someone has been very, very naughty, indeed."
Albus Dumbledore, however, had just taken a sleeping draught and was fast asleep.
Phineas' words of warning had fallen on deaf ears.
Severus awoke to two startling phenomena— he was feeling really good and there was a figure dressed head to toe in concealing white robes standing there in front of him. He stood at once, hackles raised, lava dripping from his maw as he placed himself firmly between the unknown interloper and Hermione— Hermione who was blissfully sleeping, or had been against him.
Hermione yawn-mrowled sleepily, lolling her tongue and exposing all of her teeth in a lazy show of all mouth as she arched her back and stretched, paws stretching out impossibly as dagger-like claws unsheathed and dug into the ground. Her long tail quivered with her stretching effort.
The figure splayed his hands in a peace-making gesture.
Hermione perked, nose working with effort as her whiskers twitched.
Suddenly her eyes grew wide, and she pounced the figure, knocking them flat into the ground.
PurrrrrrrTHUMP!
She rubbed all over them, their arms flailing in protest at the vigorous Nundu-handling. She bonked her head into his face, her teeth clacking against the metal mask that concealed their face.
The figure's gauntlet-covered hands moved to their face, and the mask disappeared to expose a rather startled-looking young man with dark skin and dark brown, warm eyes. "Hello there, my lady," the man said with a bit of protest at having the heavy weight of a large Nundu who wasn't fully grown but was still huge compared to a human.
Severus waded in, fury assuaged for the moment as he clamped his teeth around her scruff and pulled her off the interloper.
She mrowled unhappily, having not finished her instinctive desire to smother her scent all over the newcomer. She wriggled and went limp, the feel of him carrying her driving yet another instinct to allow herself to be moved when carried about by the scruff.
Severus contemplated setting her down but seemed conflicted as to if that was the wisest choice to keep her out of trouble. She had been Gryffindor, after all. Gryffindors always found trouble face first. Even Lily hadn't been immune to that. Hell, he'd been Slytherin and trouble found him even when he was just trying to walk to class.
Severus sigh-whufted, his tail whipping from side to side. He set Hermione down, and she promptly tore off after his tail, pouncing it and getting a mouthful of irresistible fireproof feathers.
Severus shook his head. Well, at least that kept her occupied.
The visitor sat up. "My name is Kingsley. Kingsley Shacklebolt. Kings for short. I work for the Department of Mysteries. My boss is currently speaking to the Headmaster—" he said, scratching his head. "Seems there was a strange time disturbance. A large surge of magic that occurred here last night. It's the kind of thing that has a lot of people scrambling."
Hermione drooped, ears flattened to her head.
Severus growled deeply. No one was going to take Hermione away from him right after they'd found each other. Not after his heart had finally found something— someone— who truly wanted to be his friend. He promptly herded Hermione underneath him and stood protectively over her, lava dripping from his jaws and starting to ooze all over his body. It dripped down over Hermione, and she playfully batted at it, sending molten rock flecks flying everywhere.
Kingsley, to his credit, dodged them quite nimbly.
Hermione, seemingly realising that her actions may have had unforeseen consequences, sat down with a sad-sounding mrrt.
"I suppose this could go a bit easier with the proper context," Kingsley said, eyeing the patches of steaming freshly grown stone spikes. He cracked his neck and then his body seemed to shudder before it reformed into that of a rather vicious-looking hellcat. His powerful body was as sleek as a panther and dark as the night sky with just a hint of blue, but the tips of his neck hair were orange— no, they were on fire.
Literally.
His ears were long and pointed like a lynx's, with tiny flaming tufts.
Oooo! That's why he smells so good! Hermione said excitedly.
Severus scowled, his leg moving just so to keep her from repouncing Kingsley.
You smell even better though, she confessed, causing Severus to blush under his fur despite himself. She eyed Kingsley. You're not here to take me away, are you?
Severus growled again, stiffening.
That wasn't the plan, no, Kingsley replied rather sheepishly.
Hermione cautiously poked her head around Severus' leg. He doesn't smell like a liar.
Snape sniffed, his nostrils flaring. Hn. You may be right.
Kingsley shifted his weight awkwardly and then decided to sit down. There was a temporal surge in this area. The head boss of me wants to know the precise nature of it and if it is a permanent thing.
Hermione stilled next to Severus, fear percolating in her stomach. She radiated pure distress, her mind in turmoil. Wait. What year is this?
Severus, tuning into her distress rather than her question, nuzzled her gently, coating her head in lava. She seemed to calm.
Nineteen seventy-five, Kingsley said, oblivious to the tinderbox that was Hermione's current emotional state.
No. No no no no. I've really mucked things up now. I've messed with time. I've— She bolted away as fast as her four legs could carry her into the deep dark woods.
Severus snapped his head back around to snarl at Kingsley, his teeth clacking so very close to the hellcat-wizard's flame-covered head. You are a complete bloody imbecile! Does the Ministry teach you how to fuck things up so sodding well or did you come prepackaged with an exceptionally high level of oblivious!?
I… Kingsley spluttered and slapped his face with one paw in dismay at his utter cluelessness. Oh man, I honestly thought she knew!
She just fell out of the sky and landed on me last night, idiot! I don't think we had sufficient time to chat about any pertinent details like "Hey, what year is this?" or "Done any random time-travelling recently?" Severus spat out bits of molten lava with his vicious snarls, and spikes seemed to grow out of his body with his growing rage. His teeth seemed to elongate like those of a Smilodon and his claws scraped deep furrows in the ground. I may not have known her for terribly long, but she has already been repeatedly shat upon by her own time, her moronic so-called friends, even her bloody headmaster. Surely if anyone had given a bloody damn about her, they would not have let her go off crying into the night to the point where magic itself decides she's better off here— with ME! So why don't you take that fancy arse uniform of yours and go get stuffed before you fuck things up even more than you already have!"
Snape bounded off into the woods, his keen nose working furiously to track down the intoxicating scent of sweet black raspberries, freshly churned cream, and warm cinnamon buns, fresh from the oven. It was such a comforting, familiar scent as if it was imprinted upon his very soul.
Suddenly, his paws moved even faster as he realised just why it was so familiar.
His Amortentia.
She was the origin of the scent he'd been so depressed to learn had not been Lily's—
It made sense— now.
The reason it had never been Lily was because Lily wasn't Hermione, and Hermione—
She hadn't fallen into his life… yet.
And he was going to lose her before he even got to wrap his mind around the fact she had been what he'd been wishing for ever since he was a very young boy: someone who could understand and accept him unconditionally.
He'd always thought it would be Lily.
No, he'd always thought it was Lily.
But it hadn't been; they had a one-sided relationship ever since Lily discovered just how popular her looks and quick wit had made her.
She hadn't needed him, not anymore.
He'd begged her to forgive him after the absolute worst day of his whole miserable life, but she had flatly refused.
She blamed it on the word: Mudblood. She blamed Avery and Mulciber. She blamed his Slytherin "friends" and his dabbling in curses and hexes.
But really, he was done blaming.
He was done blaming Lily's inability to accept him for who he was— what he was.
He was done blaming Potter and his gang of idiots for every woe in his life.
Sure, they hadn't exactly helped things along, but Severus realised that in order to accept the future and the possibility that Hermione had been sent for a reason to him—HIM!—of all people, that he had to let go of the same anchor that had kept him flagellating himself year after year.
He was better than his father.
He was stronger than his mum.
He could be so much more than any of them ever believed possible.
He'd just needed a chance and—
Someone to believe in him.
His paws carried him swiftly, and he barely comprehended how he wasn't tripping over his paws and claws on unfamiliar ground. His nose worked frantically to catch and keep the trail of the Nundu-witch. He was built for stamina and the long chase, and while he knew Black would be the first to say it was so he could run away longer, Severus knew—
He was built to pursue and devour.
Hermione, however, was still dripping with brand-new instincts, something he himself had had to deal with after almost killing off Lupin, Potter, Black, and Pettigrew in one fell swoop. Her niche was to stalk, pounce, and strangle— walking on silent padded feet that made but a bare whisper of sound.
Together, they could be and do so many amazing new things— a perfect complement to each other. She was an abundance of boundless enthusiasm and genuine emotion and he— well, he was an overprotective sort when it came to things he desperately wanted to keep, and he tempered his rage into a stony indifference, forcing himself to ignore th idiots so he didn't simply transform and murder them.
As much as they might deserve it.
He was trying very hard not to be a homicidal embodiment of wrathful volcanic terror. It was such a terribly long thing to say, anyway.
Despite having only known her for relatively the blink of an eye, he had already realised that Hermione was incredibly important to him. She was special. Deserving of protection— of utmost care.
Even more oddly, he found he wanted to be the one to provide it.
It would have been all for Lily, had she given him a chance, but perhaps it was truly for the best that she didn't. Had he bound himself to Lily, he couldn't have found such a blessed peace with Hermione.
Had he not been wishing so hard for someone he could find a true friend in? A companion? Someone to understand him and accept him anyway?
Had the gods actually been listening?
Had Hogwarts?
Both?
Surely if they had, they wouldn't take Hermione away from him? Not now, after they had finally met? It had felt so natural— so very right.
The glorious feel of her against him, that blessed, comforting warmth— it was like a siren's call and a balm to his wounded soul. He'd not even realised how starved he'd been for that simple, glorious comfort of touch. The warmth of another's body against him— had been intoxicatingly soothing and invigorating.
Hell, sleep, real sleep, had been something that had remained ever elusive until her—
Just the simple presence of her.
That shared restfulness had been more than anything he had experienced in the years at Hogwarts combined—
He couldn't let her run away.
He couldn't let her believe she had to be alone and abandoned by everything and everyone!
NO!
He would fight tooth and nail to keep her safe. Keep her happy. Be her friend.
Mistakes would be made, but he had no doubt that Hermione wasn't simply going to leave him in the lurch if they had an argument or even—
Even if he let some word slip his lips in anger.
No, Lily could and would pack it in over the slightest provocation, so it really shouldn't have surprised him that she'd forsake their friendship over some foolish ideal.
As he caught her scent more strongly, his body adjusted, his claws scrambling to give him better purchase as he propelled himself forward. He scent, the hunt, the chase—
The sheer exhilaration!
He threw his head back and bayed … it was an incredibly unearthly thing that sounded of the very earth cracking open and great boulders grinding against another as if in protest.
He scented her—
Her—the sweet scent of black raspberries, fresh cream, and warm cinnamon buns— with that irresistible ambrosia, she called to him like no other.
It was then that he smelled the abrupt change in the air.
Her scent turned sour and angry. He saw all the dense webbing around him, and his fangs snapped viciously as his lava tore through the offending silk in a way that simple tension could not.
He saw her fighting under a massive wave of Acromantulas— for nothing else could possibly be that big as an arachnid.
She was big, but they were many if not legion, and part of her was still too human while another part of her ran on pure instinct. She had not yet grown into her form, had time to digest it fully, or had learned to cope with it as he had after almost killing someone.
But as he watched her, his fury building that anyone or anything would dare attack her at all, he noticed she was growing bigger and bigger with every snarl and swat, and with her size came her emotion, and with that emotion came hate.
Pure, violent hatred.
Her stature grew ever larger, spikes extending from her neck like a mane of daggers. Her throat swelled with her disease sacs within, and she spewed it outward in a roiling cloud of black-green as her claws swatted the smaller spiders away as one would a bludger with a beater bat.
The (admittedly cute) almost-pudginess of her half-grown Nundu form was quickly shed with the culmination of her anger, and the unrestrained hatred of the arachnids.
Acromantulas were notoriously single-minded when it came to acquiring food, but moreso, they had a keen love for humanity as dinner. They also, thanks to a rather eerie intelligence, honed that love for dinner into a tangible hatred for two-leggers who came around trying to drive them out. Much like crows and ravens who could recognise the person who fed them and the person who hurt them, Acromantulas held grudges, and it was obvious that this particular clutter held a very strong grudge against anything that came close to their nest. Any and everything, apparently, as now they were starting towards him, too.
A huge pile of dead and dying spiders writhed on the ground as her breath weapon took them, and he swiftly added to the stack as spider after spider swarmed toward him, having split the difference between feline and canine interloper.
"My babies!" a bulging female arachnid cried, pouncing on the Nundu's back as she was occupied dealing with the "children" and digging her fangs in. "I will feed you to them!" the spider cried.
Severus saw red as the edges of his vision seemed to narrow.
His jaws cracked as they seemed to grow bigger, dislocating to pop back in place to a changed jawline. He snarled, lava flecks sending the smaller spiders spinning as their bodies caught on fire. He slammed into the bigger one, teeth ripping and maiming as his claws slashed. He instinctively put his tail into his mouth, coating it in lava as the "feathers"glowed with fiery magic. He slashed his tail out like a whip, setting spiders to flame as he went. Fire burst from his body like a mane, and his skin seemed to crack and ooze lava. He roared as he ploughed into the line of spiders, setting the clutter, nest, and surrounding silk webbing on fire.
The agonised screams of dying spiders filled the air— some by fire, some by disease, some by both.
He ran up towards her, nuzzling and licking, coating her in his warm lava drool, and she seemed to calm, sides heaving, as she gave him a soft, curious mrowl.
Severus?
Don't leave me.
But—
Please, I couldn't bear it.
But Kingsley said—
Sod what bloody Kingsley thinks he knows! The gods or Hogwarts brought you to us, to me, and I will not sit quietly in the night and let you run off and die by overgrown spider!
Hermione head-bonked him, purring softly. I didn't exactly plan on the spiders.
Stay with me. Be with me. Please?
Her eyes widened. You'd— want me?
Are you mad? You're a brilliant, insane force of nature! How could I not?
She fit, even with her bigger size, with her head tucked neatly under his. She snuggled into him, her paw wrapping around his scruff as she playfully chewed on his ears. You have more teeth. They look quite handsome.
Severus stared at her. You think my teeth look handsome?
I'm very fond of teeth, Hermione confessed.
Severus realised he was quite fond of her, too, but not just her teeth. Instinct came back again, and he was grooming her back where the spider had tried to envenomate her. The lava bathed the wound, glowing and hissing as it seemed to gain a life of its own as it spread across her back and into her battle wounds, and she sighed with relief. The lava cooled and crackled, falling off, and she mrowled in pleasure, reciprocating by giving him a good grooming with her rough tongue.
Severus' eyes went a little crossed as the sensation pleased him, his brain telling him in no uncertain terms that he'd been missing this all his life.
Reciprocation.
Gratitude.
Comfort.
The warmth of someone who trusted him—
He realised, too, that all thoughts of running off to join the Dark Lord fell on deaf ears when he knew what true acceptance felt like. He would defend her from all comers, defy the Dark Lord, whatever it took to keep her— Hermione— tucked against him where it felt right and wanted.
Please don't leave, he whispered. I could not bear it.
Hermione's eyes were half-lidded as she enjoyed being tucked under his chin and against his warmth. Not by choice.
Not ever, he emphasized.
She headbumped him. I don't think I could if I tried. My heart is rather adamant that you are worth fighting for.
His breath seemed to catch in his throat as a shiver went down his spine. I think my heart has told my mind to go get stuffed.
Hermione chucklepurred. Mind doesn't care for me?
My brain and I aren't on speaking terms at the moment.
Suddenly, Hermione stiffened and she gave a roar as she pounced—
She landed on the giant spider that was crawling out of the nearby nest hole.
"You killed my mate! My children! I will KILL YOU BOTH!"
A swarm of young spiders skittered from behind the parent, springing forth with murderous intent as they were emboldened by their larger and more impressive father.
Severus growled, moving his tail into his mouth to coat it in lava. He leapt into the fray, unwilling to allow Hermione to fight alone, no matter how well she might do on her own. Any prior thoughts of self-preservation flew to the wayside as a far greater purpose spurred him on.
To help her was to save himself.
It was the ultimate self-preservation.
His lonely heart wanted a future where that warmth he had tasted was a regular occurance.
He wanted a world where that was accepted, normal even.
He'd fight for it— for her.
He saw her as he took down a second wave of aggressive spiderlings, her entire body shaking with effort as she sank her claws into the huge spider's body and poised to sink her fangs into the junction where the abdomen met the cephalothorax—
Suddenly part of a tree, the roots still hanging from it, smashed into her with a hard thwack of connection between bone, flesh, and tree. The young Nundu went flying off into one of the bigger tree trunks and connected with a loud crash as her limp body slid down from the bark and onto the ground.
"You leave Aragog ALONE!" a red-faced Hagrid yelled, waving a huge limb threateningly. "He's my FRIEND!"
Severus smelled blood—
He saw Hermione's alarmingly still form lying sprawled at the base of the tree.
Years of pent up rage boiled up from within, manifesting as a vast pool of magma inside his body. His skin cracked as steaming rivulets of molten lava oozed out from the very pores of his skin. Everything Potter, Black, Pettigrew, or Lupin had ever done to him smouldered and seethed in the great lake of rage within him. Every last injustice. Every single time they had caught him out somewhere all alone as if by some odd form of omniscience—
A swath of seething red hazed his vision as every last molecule of his body seemed to turn to fire. His claws glowed red, orange, yellow and then white before turning blue-hot— the sheer heat of them turning hotter and hotter to the point of a raw, blinding intensity. The very ground seemed to whimper and shrink away from where he stood as the surrounding foliage burst into flames or turned directly to flyaway motes of ash. Rocks glowed and melted, turning molten from his very presence.
Before, he had been just a victim, struggling to fight a war of attrition against an entire gang. He had been driven to catch them in the act in the hopes of bringing some semblance of justice to his plight, but now—
Now, he was but a raging fiendfyre loosed from its chains. He was the great wolf, Fenrisúlfr, freed to battle Odin in Ragnarök. All he had ever wanted in life lay still and lifeless at the base of the tree. Comfort, warmth, simple acceptance— even a person who believed he was actually worth something.
She, too, was power. But, unlike the Dark Lord whose siren call was simple power and the will to use it, Hermione was power and the temper to use it as it was needed not on whim.
And even with that power, she had been bested by a half-giant wielding a bloody tree.
That said half-giant was giving a strangled cry of protest as a wave of spiderlings swarmed off the injured body of their father and attacked him, biting him all over and burying him with their combined mass.
"Wait! NO! I helped you, I did! I'm your FRIEND!"
"KILL!" they all screeched. "KILL!"
"Everything that is not like US is FOOD!"
"KILL!"
"FEED!"
The spiders toppled the horrified half-giant down, covering him from head-to-toe like a living carpet of wriggling legs and merciless clacking fangs.
Severus looked at the still form of Hermione and then the form of the now downed half-giant who, at least in his wrathful state, deserved everything he was being given in spades.
Yet—
Hermione would not have wanted to see an innocent suffer— even if it was a misguided flaming idiot who believed spiders made better friends than people. Even if Hagrid's innocence was somewhat debatable seeing as he was willing to take a tree to someone before discerning the facts of the matter—
Didn't Hagrid supposedly release the beast from the Chamber of Secrets? Wasn't that why he was expelled only to have Dumbledore give him a job at the school?
The thoughts sobered him, quelling the part of him that wanted to destroy everything that got in his way—
Hermione would want him to live a good life, and he couldn't do that if he murdered Hagrid in lava, gnashing teeth, and burning claws.
Society frowned on it.
More importantly, Hermione would frown, and he didn't want that image burned in his memory as he rotted away in Azkaban.
Lava dripped from his body as he launched himself into the carpet of living spiders, everything he touched burning, hissing, cracking, and turning into eight-legged flaming arachnids.
Had he noticed, perhaps he would have seen the rain of centaur arrows coming down to assist him.
Perhaps, he might have seen one of the elder centaur kneeling down to tend to Hermione's castaway body.
Then, he might have seen Kingsley arriving with reinforcements, stylishly late—
But, no.
Severus was far too deep in the storm of utterly focused combat as he attempted to save one singularly foolish half-giant from his own, blind stupidity.
By the time the flames had been reduced to the odd circle that encompassed the previously teeming nest of bloodthirsty Acromantulas and a swollen and unconscious Hagrid had been hauled out of the fires by a grim-faced Professor Kettleburn and a team of Unspeakables, Severus slowly began to take in that he was no longer alone.
"Do allow the hound to lie beside his mate, Headmaster," the elder centaur said lowly, his weary voice rough and gravelly. "The bond between them will help them both to heal, and I assure you, you will not like what will happen should either of them fail to recover."
"They have done what we were not able to," a red roan stallion said. "Rid this forest of the arachnid menace that threatened our camps, our mares, and our foals."
The other centaur grunted and nodded in agreement, stamping their hooves in the char and ash.
"This land will be fertile again as the ash settles," another said. "We will be able to reseed the area and shelter in all seasons without the same fear for our foals."
"Thanks to them," a dappled grey stallion grunted as he put away his bow. He wiped the sweat from his brow as his tail flicked. "Perhaps the honeyguide bird will return to our forest now that the spiders have gone. We have not seen them in many seasons, ever since the half-giant set the first spider loose in the forest and then brought him a mate."
The headmaster paled and shifted rather awkwardly.
Amelia's eyes narrowed as she watched the hellbeast practically ooze over to the resting Nundu, nuzzling, licking, and snuggling against her, covering the almost-feline with a thick coat of lava drool as his tail wrapped around her and pulled her closer so his head could cover her back protectively.
"Hrm, grown a bit," Kettleburn noted as he assisted the Unspeakables with getting Hagrid on a floating stretcher. "I've repeatedly warned Rubeus about those damnable spiders since the day he was expelled, headmaster, and I warned you about him sneaking his original spider in a mate too."
"We should speak," Amelia fixed Albus with a distinctly unfriendly look. "Again. Though I will also have to call in the Aurors to address the issue of the illegal breeding of unsanctioned animals as well. Exceedingly dangerous ones at that. While I realise Hogwarts has to some extent, autonomy regarding punishments to her staff as well as students, I cannot overlook the grave danger we have seen here today that could have and has threatened the lives of at least one known student and yet unknown witch of possible school age, not to mention the resident centaur herd—"
Amelia trailed off. "We have things we need to discuss, most assuredly. And that will take precedence over the presence of the anomaly we discussed earlier."
"My Unspeakables will handle all negotiations and the gathering of facts from the centaur, if you do not mind, Headmaster."
Albus waved his hand. "As long as Admetos does not—"
"I do not," the elder stallion said calmly.
The Unspeakables were silent as they waited for the Headmaster and his staff to leave with Hagrid.
"Come, we will build shelters here for the night that they may rest peacefully," the centaur leader said. "Such tales of today belong in ballads and songs to be shared in story and verse until the very stars burn out. They deserve a little rest and consideration from us."
The centaur nickered together and set to work as Snape focused on nothing but Hermione's breathing as she lay snuggled up beside him.
The Unspeakables gathered to assist as they could, knowing well enough that it was a time for patience— especially one in particular whose track record had already been liberally strewn with misunderstandings.
"Even if the beast is truly a witch, Hogwarts does not accept transfer students," Albus said stubbornly as he crossed his arms across his chest. "We never have, I'm sorry."
"What the hell are you playing at, Albus?" Amelia asked, her slim brows furrowing in annoyance.
"Severus will have to return to the Slytherin dormitories and resume his studies—"
"You've got to be off your bloody rocker, Albus!" Kettleburn interjected. "He and his friend saved us all from the great Acromantula uprising and yet you want to quibble on whether there isn't paperwork to have her schooling at Hogwarts?"
"The beast hasn't even shown herself to be human," Albus argued.
"You doubt my word?" Kingsley asked, incredulous, his face twisting in sheer disbelief.
Amelia shot Kingsley a look, and the Unspeakable closed his eyes, biting his tongue.
"You are playing a very dangerous game, Albus," Amelia said darkly. "The kind of game that will get you burned."
"If the beast was a familiar, it would be a different matter, but you said yourself that it is actually a witch, and if that is so, then she cannot remain here at Hogwarts. Even if what you claim is true, there are no accommodations we can make for preternatural mating bonds, and even that is based purely on hearsay from the centaur."
"Mr Snape has done nothing but bend over backwards to help with multiple entanglements, Albus," Amelia pointed out. "Witnesses said that even when he could have rightly torn Rubeus to pieces, he didn't. Instead, he chose to save him from his own ignorance. A staff member, I might add, who used a tree trunk as a weapon and attacked someone with it. Instead of trying to find excuses for why you cannot take on a witch who was very likely brought her by Hogwarts itself, maybe you should be explaining to Mr Hagrid why he is going to be brought before the Wizengamot for attacking a minor child with a bloody tree."
Albus shifted his weight uneasily. "I have a responsibility to the families and children that have been here, Amelia—"
"Enough of your posturing, Dumbledore," Admetos said, stomping his hoof against the flagstones with a bell-like resonance. "I tire of your honeyed words that say one thing and have it come back to bite us just like the Acromantula. We of the Dark Forest Herd shall adopt her into our number, and we will teach her the healing arts. It is our sovereign right to do so, and if the hound wishes to visit his mate, we shall welcome it."
"Admetos, it's been hundreds of years since—"
"Since anyone has been found worthy of such a thing," the centaur leader pointed out. "There was always some doubt as to if a fragile human could even survive in a centaur's world, but she has already proven herself as a skillful hunter. She has already been blooded by the enemy, stood firm against attacks of both humans and known enemies of the herd. She has been abandoned by her own kind … for even you, Headmaster, seem all too eager to see her callously cast aside and banished from this place. So if she chooses to bind herself to our herd, our own magic, and our 'primitive' ways, then we shall welcome her."
"It sounds like an excellent solution to me," Amelia said approvingly, watching Albus pale and gape like a fish with no little satisfaction.
"But— she's a minor!" Albus immediately protested.
"Now you wish to stand up for her?" Amelia asked, arching an eyebrow.
"We shall adopt her. She has no family here to speak of. It is our way and our right," Admetos said firmly. "No foal should be so alone, and it is clear that some humans wish to see her harmed, not only due to what brought her here but also in how she has been spoken of. It is obvious to the centaur that she and the hound are bound by powerful fate, and to separate them would do ill to both. That you wish to do so in spite of this makes us question the wisdom of honouring our treaty, were it not for the safety of our foals."
"As long as we are allowed to check on her from time to time, Admetos?" Amelia requested. "I can finalise the formalities of the adoption with the Ministry."
Admetos stomped one hoof in agreement. "You may."
Albus, if he had any further protests, at least remained silent.
"Where you going, Snivellus?"
Black.
Even without his previously pretty voice, Sirius Black seemed to have a deathwish desire to continue heckling him.
Severus kept right on walking, saying nothing.
"Awww, so Snivellus has nothing to say? That's okay. I know you were using some kind of Dark magic on us that night, Snivellus. You hurt us, and for some reason good old Dumbles seems to think we need to keep quiet about it, but we know the truth, don't we? We know you tried to kill us with some kind of Dark curse and now you have Dumbles covering your stupid Slytherin arse."
Black's voice had been bloody annoying from day one, but it managed to reach even greater heights of annoyance with its scratchy harshness. When the boy's voice had become that silken weapon against the female gender, people had started to think that Black had bedded every witch with a pulse well before he'd turned sixteen— if not for his voice but his family's extensive Gringotts vault.
Potter, as annoying as he was, was just a wizard with friends— the kind of friends who thought the ruddy sun itself shone out of his arse. He was only strong because his group of likeminded imbeciles made him strong, and any personal strengths (or the lack thereof) he might have didn't matter nearly as much because he was part of a mob.
He did, at least begrudgingly, admit that Potter and his mates did have some talent. They had all become Animagi without getting trapped in their newfound animal forms, and they had managed to track Severus down time and time again, always knowing when he was alone and where to find him. That he couldn't figure out what they were up to, track them, or even realise they had been studying to become Animagi in all that time—
Well, they hadn't exactly realised he had been studying it, either, now had they?
Mind you, his first shift had been all about sheer desperation to avoid death via werewolf—
But it had not been a small shift in the slightest—
Still, even while Dumbledore had seemingly protected his reputation so he did not get expelled, he had also protected Potter and his mates. There was really no winning ground other than Hermione had fallen out of nowhere and into his life.
He had to admit that was no small thing. Her arrival had heralded the end of Severus Snape, at least, the bitter young wizard who had nothing to lose by joining with the Dark Lord on a path to supposed power—
Now, he had every possibility to fight for. He might struggle. He might even fail, but damn if he wasn't going to give it his all to hang on to the blessing he had been given. He just hoped—she was just as patient with him when he inevitably had another major insert boot into mouth moment.
Severus narrowed his eyes at Black, but he had learned that raising to the bait and saying something was only encouraging him. He turned the other cheek and continued to walk into the forest.
"You can't go in there, Snivellus," Black said smugly. "It's forbidden."
Severus felt the tug of a smile on his lips as he confidently strode forward into the darkened woods.
Sirius wasn't about to let Snivellus get the best of him.
He got lucky with his curses, and maybe fear wasn't the best way to get him. He had to admit making himself look like a slavering beast while he cursed them was pretty impressive, but everyone knew that real Animagi were normal animals. It was just some grand illusion to cover up the fact that Snivellus was a Dark wizard and had more curses thanks to his Slytherin mates.
Regulus was probably teaching him, the bastard.
They were all a bunch of bloody Death Eaters in the making.
Prongs told him to leave it alone— that it could have been a lot worse, that he should never have put Snivellus' life in danger with Moony, that it endangered Remus' life.
Sirius, however, wasn't having any of that bullshite. Snivellus deserved to pay for what he did, messing up Prongs' arm, Moony's leg, slicing off Wormtail's hand and foot, and stealing his voice! No, Snivellus would pay dearly for what he'd done. Sirius would see to that.
Severus suddenly found himself flat on his back with a face full of spotted fur and whiskers and remarkably white pearlescent fangs.
"Hullo," he said rather meekly, his hand reaching up to rub her chin and her velvety ears.
Hermione purred with satisfaction and flopped herself upon him, pinning him down more than effectively. In a rush of warmth, her Nundu form melted away, and a young witch dressed in centaur "normal" peered down at him, her long curly hair hanging from her head like a cascade of water. "Hi."
The look in her whisky-coloured eyes moved something inside him every time. Trust. It made it hard to breathe knowing such a thing actually existed for him. The centaur believed they were mates, but Severus was still trying to wrap his mind around having a friend who didn't up and leave him the moment his temper got out of hand. He admitted that he was very protective of her, and that he slept like it was the first good sleep he'd had in decades whenever she was tucked against him, but he did not dare assume anything more than that.
To simply be able to touch her— and have her slender form (or large, furred and spotted for that matter) pressed snugly against him. It was more than he'd ever had in his entire life. That she could accept his scarecrow self or large and lava prone self— it was more than he expected from anyone.
That she seemed to understand being outcast while surrounded in people—
It was not something he could ever seem to explain to Lily.
She never understood that he felt alone with those friend she accused him of "encouraging horrible things."
It was true Avery and Mulciber were hardly good people, but she had no faith in his ability to choose the better path.
Then again, perhaps she was right.
Until a certain Nundu had fallen upon him, all of his choices had been quite focused, if not selfish: to get back at Potter and his mates and come out ahead.
"How are your studies coming along, Severus?" Hermione asked.
Severus sighed. "Fine, I suppose. I've gone over and over the subjects, and I hardly see the point in rereading what I know by heart."
"Tests always made me very nervous," Hermione confessed. "I would always read and reread just in case I missed something."
"Please tell me you aren't pining over lost books while you are here in the forest learning how to heal?"
Hermione frowned. "I do miss having access to books, but I am learning quite a lot from Mossfoot and all of the other centaur, really."
Severus sighed as he realised she hadn't let him up. "Could you please let me up?"
Hermione smiled at him. "As you wish."
She rolled off him and the hair ornament taming her hair tinkled softly. He noticed with a jolt that she had woven the small (polished from years of worry) stone into her ornament to carry it with her. He'd carried that stone with him for years, having found it on a rare trip to the ocean when he'd been a small boy. There had been a small hole worn naturally into the stone, but he had never worn it openly.
She did, however, proudly wear his gift as if daring anyone to say anything about it. It was terribly Gryffindor, but he couldn't find it in himself to be cutting about it. It was … touching.
He'd once crafted a pendant with a shrunken moonlily in it— the flower rare in itself— for Lily. He'd worked weeks on it to put the right charms on it so it would not wilt, break, tarnish, or scratch.
She'd never once worn it, simply tucked it away in her book bag after a token thanks.
The stone was, by far, less beautiful. It was simply a pretty stone he'd picked up from the beach and carried around with him for years.
But Hermione wore it like it was worth so much more to her than the finest of diamonds, and she would often tilt her head fetchingly and touch it as she thought of something.
"You're wearing it."
Hermione tilted her head, nose wrinkling. She touched the stone dangle. "Of course. You gave it to me."
"But— you're wearing it."
Hermione gave him a strange look. "Of course, I'm wearing it. You gave it to me." She paused, frowning. "Did you not want me to? Have I offended you?"
Severus paled. "No! I just— it surprised me is all. It, it means a lot to me that you'd wear it. Out in the open."
Hermione smiled at him, and he felt a warmth spread from his toes and work upward. "Of course, I would. It's special to me. No one has ever given me something they've carried with them for years. It reminds me of you. It feels like a piece of you."
Severus felt the corners of his mouth lighten into a smile without his permission, but the radiant smile he received in return made it all worth it.
"What have you been studying today?" he asked.
"Poultices for drawing out poison and infection," Hermione said. "Also, pain relief and numbing."
"Sounds interesting. A lot like potions."
Hermione nodded. "I used to like potions a lot but—"
"But?"
"My teacher did not like me at all. He called me cruel things and an insufferable know-it-all." Hermione seemed introspective. "I suppose I probably deserved it with all my frantic hand waving. I just wanted to do well— to prove myself. Prove that I belonged."
Severus scowled. "He sounds like a real bastard."
Hermione's eyes widened. "He was a teacher!"
"Still a bastard."
Hermione frowned. "I think I must have disappointed him or something. My other teachers— they liked me just fine."
"Don't try to rationalise it," Severus sniffed. "Sometimes someone being an arse simply means they're an arse. Even if you were hand waving—" He scowled at that. "That is pretty annoying, actually. Why would you do that?"
Hermione blushed. "I really knew the answer."
"Maybe, he wanted someone that didn't know the answer to wake up. You obviously did know it. You study properly." He wrinkled his nose. "I never want to be a teacher. Ever."
Hermione frowned. "Really?"
"I cannot stand my peers. I would never wish to teach them anything."
Hermione seemed to have an epiphany. "Maybe that was why he was so— grumpy. My classes had a lot of people who didn't want to be there. They absolutely hated potions."
"Potions is an art. Not everyone is cut for it." Severus pointed out. "People can do the basics, but the more complex potions require an intense focus— something most teenagers do not have."
"You have focus."
"I did say most," he replied, the skin around his eyes crinkling.
Hermione smiled at him. "What did you want to do after your N.E.W.T.s?"
Severus looked down, seeming to give the question considerable thought. "I—" He stared at her.
Hermione looked at him expectantly.
"I believe I would like to study for a mastery," he said. "If I study potions, I could open my own business making custom potions."
Hermione's hair seemed to stand straight on end. "That's wonderful, Severus! I think you'll do well at whatever you put your mind to."
Severus looked down. "I was thinking maybe, if it went well, I could get a place in Hogsmeade. That old place no one wants because it's too close to the Shrieking Shack. It has a bit of land that leads to the forest. You— the centaur— could visit easily."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Me?"
Severus stared at his knee. "You wouldn't have to, bu—"
"Of course I would!" Hermione exclaimed.
Severus flushed a little, quite unused to someone being so enthusiastic about making plans to see him. "Would you, I mean, might you consider—oh, sod it all—Go with me to Hogsmeade for tea and there is this bookshop," he trailed off mumbling.
"When?"
Severus swallowed hard. "Tomorrow?"
Hermione smiled. "I'd love to."
Severus stared at his lap unsure what to say or do next after her acceptance. He hadn't exactly expected acceptance. What did one do after the person they were interested in actually said… yes?
"The evening meal is about to be prepared," one of the colts said. "Shadeside and Rain are calling for you, herd-sister."
"Oh! I must go help!" Hermione said. "So sorry, Severus! Will you stay for the evening meal? Thanks, brother!"
"I, er," Severus stammered.
"Of course he will," the colt said, thumping Severus on the head.
"Be careful with his head, Bane!" Hermione cried as she scurried off. "Human skulls are fragile!"
Bane shook his mane. "Could have fooled me. Seems like human heads are pretty thick."
Severus eyed Bane a bit warily. The colt was, as best estimation, a teen much like himself, but centaur were by far physically stronger, taller, and more prone to physical violence. It wasn't that they went around beating each other to death, but they often tested each other with the other young colts, practicing the skills they would need to defend the camps from all comers.
Bane was, out of all the colts, one of the most powerful and abrasive. He was also very protective, and while he did not come out and actually say it, his protectiveness of Hermione was already very strong. Firenze seemed calmer about everything, his head to the stars and into his studies more than Bane. Magorian, however, was an evaluator. He watched everyone and everything intently, carefully gauging everything before doing anything. Once he made a decision, he stuck to it.
Admetos' adoption of Hermione had made her a sister to all the foals of the herd, but this was especially true for Magorian, and Magorian took everything seriously. His watchful eye seemed to weigh Severus' soul for the Afterlife every time he saw him as if he were waiting for him to make some grand mistake that would allow him the excuse to kick his skull in.
Yet, even so, Severus understood that protectiveness and did not feel uncomfortable or unwelcome with the centaur. From the stories they passed by the fire at night, humans had long treated the centaur as nothing but beasts, and even the Headmaster seemed to weave the peace treaty to his favour rather than attempt to benefit both sides equally. In fact, when given the choice of being grouped as beings with vampires and hags, the centaur preferred to be called beasts. In reality, they felt neither classification was appropriate, but no one was really listening to the centaur.
The more Hermione embraced the centaur ways, the more confident she became, and it seemed she flourished learning healing with the centaur and the way the centaur did everything from the societal niceties to hunting and gathering. Hermione had to learn their own customs of hunting, albeit slightly altered to accommodate her unique feline hunting prowess. In fact, they had adjusted their hunting parties to include her, and she had adapted to work in a team, with her taking down startled prey when an arrow missed.
Far fewer failed hunts made the centaur very happy, and it gave them considerably more time to work on the repair and maintenance of their camp as well as tanning hides and other such chores that were the mainstay of their livelihood.
While Severus studied hard for his upcoming N.E.W.T.s, Hermione was learning healing hands-on, something that simply wasn't possible at Hogwarts. Severus began to teach her his lessons from Hogwarts whenever they were together, his playing the role of teacher to help him remember what he had learned and her to learn since she could not attend Hogwarts herself.
Teaching, he realised, wasn't so bad when the audience was Hermione. He wondered who the bastard was that hurt her feelings but decided it wouldn't matter. He would teach her what she needed to know, and she would show them all that she didn't need Hogwarts or the headmaster's approval to succeed.
Amelia Bones had been checking in on Hermione each week to give her study work outside the scope of centaur teaching, but Hermione seemed to truly enjoy his teachings. She would listen attentively and take in his movements, sometimes a flicker of something would pass across her face as if she remembered something but then it would pass and she was back to listening again.
He would often read to her as they shared his books, and she would lean into him, closing her eyes as she listened to his every word. Yet, he knew she wasn't sleeping because if he asked her a question, she would always reply immediately. It was such a strange thing having someone so close and comfortable, wanting nothing more than his company or at the most someone to read to her. Even when they bickered over some random theory or movement or swish versus flick, she would concede if she realised she was wrong and smile at him with that oh-so-warming look.
Every so often, he'd be reminded of the fact that Hermione hadn't come from an ideal past, either, and while he was sure at least her parents hadn't been like his, she had lost her family all at once. What friends she may have had had driven her into an emotionally driven change into a Nundu— not exactly a point for great confidence in the quality of friendship.
He could relate.
At the same time, he couldn't fathom how someone couldn't appreciate that radiant warmth.
"They didn't really know I was a girl," she'd said once. "I think it was more of an us versus them. You were either a part of the group or you weren't anything, but they really only came to me for homework help."
"To copy your hard work, you mean," he'd replied, his lip curling with disdain.
Hermione had slumped a little. "I truly thought they were my friends. And I wanted to help them."
"It has to be a team effort to be a real friendship," he said as he realised it had been something he'd been struggling with about Lily, but even Lily had her moments when they had worked on a mutual project. Lily, at the least, could stand on her own with homework. Her potions work often had her visiting him, but she excelled at charms. She at least put forth the effort to study, which made her less like the scrambling dunderheads who waited until the very last minute for everything.
They just couldn't—
Severus sighed. He and Lily just couldn't see eye to eye. Perhaps they never really had. He had cherished her because she had been his very first friend, and he had done everything he could to preserve that in his heart and mind only to get a true taste of what compassion felt like.
Tenderness.
Closeness.
From a stranger he had never met.
From a traveller from a different time.
Now, that young Nundu-witch was an adopted centaur, and her name amongst the centaur was Whiskers, for while the stallions might have facial hair, they did not have the long, stabby whiskers that a certain Nundu did. That was her common name, anyway. The name used privately amongst this particular herd was Atalanta, which had its roots in ancient Greek meaning huntress. Both were quite fitting, Severus thought.
"Nisyros," Bane said, gesturing with his head. "If you wish to take our herd sister out for courtship, you must provide a hide suitable to dress her. Olive has already prepared something fitting for outside the forest, but you must replace the hide she used to make it.
Severus' eyes widened. He hadn't even thought of what she'd wear out in public. He had figured she'd just transfigure something like most witches liked to do in a pinch—
Well, to be honest, he hadn't even thought that far at all. He hadn't really thought she'd even agree!
"The mares and fillies are preparing the evening meal, but if you help me bring down a decent red deer, the meat and the hide will impress Olive and then of course Admetos will approve of your providing for her, and they will allow her to leave the forest for your meeting."
Severus swallowed hard. He had not hunted alone— oh, he had the instincts, sure, but he had not been hungry since coming to Hogwarts. He had curbed that instinct with satiety.
"We shall hunt with you," Magorian said as he trotted up with Firenze and Ronan.
Severus realised this was to be a true hunt— and the success of which would either bring the young stallions in as full hunters or paint them as failures. They were trusting him to lead the way to success.
No pressure.
No, not at all.
"You have already taken down many a giant spider, our deadliest enemies, but this hunt is to bring meat to the larders, sinew for sewing and bows, and skins or fur depending on if we get a sizable stag or a hind."
"Come Nisyros," Firenze said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let us do our herd-sister the greatest honour by bringing success back to the herd."
Severus squared his shoulders and nodded. "I'm ready."
Magorian eyed him. "We shall see."
Severus was built to pursue; he knew this in his bones.
He had helped to box in the herd of red deer, allowing the young stallions to take their best aim, but when the largest stag bolted from the clearing, Severus was after him like a shot. The stallions may have gotten their deer, but Snape's eyes were fixed solely on the stag.
Something about the stag—
He tore after it, his feet barely touching ground as he blazed a trail through the forest.
The stag was quick, but he was already wounded— perhaps from an earlier fight with another stag. The sound of the stag's laboured breaths drove him onward. Each leap was getting slower and shorter, but Severus didn't even feel winded. This was what he was built for.
When the stag stumbled, that was all the cue Severus needed, and he was on the animal in a flash, teeth flashing as they snapped around the stag's throat like a bear trap.
Thuuuk!
THUUCK!
ShhhhhhTHIK!
Three arrows hit the stag in directly the heart, putting an end to the huge animal's suffering.
Severus lay there, panting, his jaws still clenched around the stag's throat as if afraid if he let go that the animal's antlers would come to life and skewer him.
Magorian dipped his fingertips in the blood and painted their foreheads with a mark that went down the nose. "First great hunt brings home success to our people," he said. "We thank the spirit of our prey for the life it brings us, the warmth of their hides, and the strength of their bones. We are now truly brothers in the eyes of the Huntress. May Her blessings keep us safe and fed but our prey without undue suffering, for without our prey we cannot eat and without us, the prey would sicken and starve."
They all bowed their heads in silence for a few minutes.
Magorian snorted, stomping his front hoof. "Come, let us carry this back to the others. We will field dress and carry our hunts back to the camp."
"Already speaking like a leader, Magorian," Bane chuckled.
Firenze shook his mane. "He's welcome to it. Leading requires eyes on both sides of the head. I feel well enough with one set skyward to the stars and planets."
"Let us place the stag upon Nisyros' back that he might carry it easier," Ronan suggested.
Severus stood and shook himself off, allowing them to place the stag over her back. He tested his walk and balance, and then traced his wild run back to where the herd had once grazed.
By the time they arrived back in the camp, it was dark, the soft glows of the fires welcoming them along with the smell of woodsmoke and cooking. The tang of cooked apples and camp bread teased the nose, and the new hunters seemed relieved to return to the prospect of a feast.
When Severus brought his buck to Mare Olive, she gave him such a knowing look even as she accepted it. Admetos welcomed back the new hunters, painting their faces with ceremonial colour and bid them to take their place around the main fire as befit the true hunters of the herd.
The meat was hung in the earthen larder to await processing, and the hides were thoroughly cleaned and soaking in the tanning mixture soon after the evening meal, no time wasted.
But it wasn't the approval of the herd's newest group of hunters, Hermione's brother Magorian, or even Admetos himself that made Severus' heart flutter.
Hermione's warm smile as she handed him a bowl of food and the soft touch of her fingers against his— "Congratulations, Nisyros." She blew softly against his cheek near his nose as was centaur custom. "Severus," she whispered softly.
"Atalanta," he said against her ear, breathing ever so softly against her cheek. "Hermione."
She leaned against him as they ate together by the fire.
It was all he needed.
Peace settled in his heart and stomach, and he realised he would move mountains to keep it there.
Even, he figured, let go of the hatred he had carried for years.
Let Potter think he won as he curled himself around Lily like a Venomous Tentacula.
Let Lily think he was Dark and evil.
Let Black curse his name, Lupin piss himself, or Pettigrew count his limbs every time they saw him.
He would turn the other cheek.
For Hermione.
As the centaur settled in for the night, Admetos snuggled up against his mate and looked over to where the hound and the feline curled up together by the fire. His lips curved upward in a knowing, smug smile.
"Will you allow her to leave the forest tomorrow?" Euterpe asked.
"Courtship seems so lost upon them, but if Nisyros wishes to follow human customs as well, then I will humour him. He has already proven himself the hunter and protector."
His mate chuckled at him, tutting. "There is nothing wrong with a little courtship even when the stars and planets have everything in hand. Is it not the journey that is just as important as the destination?"
"My words back at me, love?"
"The better to smite you with," she replied smoothly.
"You miss little, Euterpe," Admetos said with a whicker.
"Beware the dog," she sighed cryptically.
Admetos frowned. He was about to ask her what she meant, but her eyes were closed and she was already breathing deeply, fast asleep.
A/N: Words are hard, people! Muses are fickle! Writing schedules suck when I and my beta can't seem to be awake at the same times! ARGH, BOOTERANG!
Hope you enjoyed this little jaunt into my crazy mind. See you next time!
Please thank Dragon and the Rose for propping up her eyelids to beta this fic.