A/N: Quirrell survived the first year (and the 2nd) in this story due to not being killed by Harry on his quest to find what Fluffy was guarding. Luna is still one year behind. Hermione and Severus are now in 3rd year Hogwarts time—but since they are apprentices, that time scale is kinda out the window). We'll just presume that since Voldemort doesn't want to intentionally kill himself that he didn't want his slave (Quirrell) to die due to his own jinx.

Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard


Kiss of the Basilisk

Chapter 7

Snakes and Ladders

Because we focused on the snake, we missed the scorpion.

Egyptian Proverb

"Great, now they're both flying pterodactyls," Sithiss said with a sigh. "I'm blaming you for this, Fawkes."

"Me?" Fawkes protested. "Hardly my fault they are both feathered and scaled. Might as well blame Kukulcan. He's the quetzalcoatl serpent with feathers."

"Oh, do shut it," Lucius said with a fang-filled yawn, snuggling the two younger basilisks in his coils. "I'm rather enjoying the lie in." His sapphire crest feather rose and fell as if to punctuate for him.

Cadmus yawned, rising up from the serpentine pileup to count heads and make sure there were at least as many heads as he had counted at bedtime. More heads might require some consideration but not as much as less heads. Less heads was problematic.

Seeing that all heads were present and accounted for, he lay his head back down in the drowsy morning hours.

Hermione and Severus were coiled tightly together as they nestled even deeper the coils of the adults, having had quite enough adventure after the bookshop incident, wishing to simply burrow away and hide for months. Thankfully, thanks to their Thunderbirding it out, they channelled their stress into a thunderstorm that made Scotland happy to announce that the drought water rationing was no longer needed, and the crops were not going to spontaneously combust.

Bully for that.

Sithiss, of course, had wanted to manifest physically and petrify the entire bloody bookstore, but Hermione had (thankfully) vetoed that in favour of having Daemon sit on a certain unlucky Auror.

Oops?

Moody was understandably quite upset with said Auror, and from what Cadmus had heard from his contacts at the Ministry, they could still hear Moody reading the poor bloke the riot act every morning during assignments.

Tracing what had really happened from Quirrell's point of view (or Voldemort's for that matter) was still an ongoing process. There was truth and then there was that other truth. Quirrell's was obviously much stranger than the average bloke's, and Voldemort's was pretty far out in left field too as he was unquestionably a megalomaniacal psychopath.

Still, there were some factors that were hard to ignore, like the list of Death Eaters and who he'd murdered—that was easy enough to confirm because he told them precisely where he buried the bodies.

At least for the ones he actually buried.

Quirrell kept spouting recipes from his great-great-grandmum, and as for Slughorn, well—

Moody was at his wit's end because apparently Slughorn had a secret side-business brewing recreational potions and selling them in Knockturn Alley. While not expressly illegal for adults, they were finding their way into the hands of young children, and they'd been trying to find the source of said potions for years, but now that they knew about it, there was the matter of what exactly they were going to do about it. After seeing Horace bound in bandages and being treated for Desert Fever, Moody was pretty sure that any punishment for the man couldn't have been more horrible than what he was already going through.

Cadmus was glad it wasn't him that had to hold down the fort in that area. Keeping his eyes out for his two young charges was enough to keep his coils busy. They were as inquisitive as a baby quetzalcoatl, and that was really saying something. Quetzalcoatl snakelings were notoriously talented at sticking their snouts into bloody everything. He should know, he'd been one once, even if it had been, ahem, a while. His parents would tell him that it served him right after all the mayhem he'd caused when he was a young snakeling growing up with a seriously inflated ego in Mesoamerica.

Hermione stirred and pounced on him, wrapping her coils around his head and trying to wrestle him down.

Cheeky little snakeling.

Cadmus hissed, opening his mouth and flaring his feathered mane. Hermione bumped noses with him, baring her teeth and hissing happily. She rubbed up against him, confident and cheerful.

Severus yawned and tackled Hermione back down into the nest of coils. "It's too early for such cheer."

Hermione sulked, tongue flicking, but Severus wrapped his body around hers. She hissed happily, rubbing her head against his and nipping at his head crest of feathers.

Severus tolerated her shenanigans with a sleepy yawn, showing a great amount of patience with her playfulness. She tempered herself to be a little more subdued by his example, but he seemed to be coming out of his shell by her example.

Hermione snuggled in the nest of warm coils, but it was obvious her brain was wide awake, so the rest of her wanted to get up. She set her head over Severus for a few minutes and then slithered out of the nest, the desert vipers following her towards possible breakfast with a chaser of personal hygiene.

The sounds of running water and frantic fang brushing signalled the official start to Hermione's day, as usual.

Cadmus stretched out his coils and moved away from the nest, allowing his human form to fall into place. He cracked his neck as his mane of feathers seemed to suck back into his skin. Poppy was already up and treating a slew of student patients who had been victims of potions explosions of their own making, random Quidditch injuries, and unexpected maulings from one of Hagrid's allegedly 'armless creatures.

It amazed him that Poppy didn't explode with all the random, horrible things that happened to Hogwarts students—not because of attacks from the outside but from the random shite they did to each other. None of them were as resilient as a snakeling, either.

Hermione was busying herself in the kitchen as the desert vipers watched from their place on the counter. They waited patiently for her to cut strips of rabbit or hare for them and gently took it from her hands when she offered them a bite. Rabbits and hares were the easiest prey to come by at Hogwarts, and no one was happier than Professor Sprout to have a little natural population control in her greenhouses.

"They're adorable until they eat your entire crop of mandrakes. Then all you have is little or no mandrakes left and a bunch of dead animals," Sprout had complained.

Someone had apparently tried to breed the animals with a magical species, and the green was now infested with scorpion-tailed hares and maned rabbits.

"You have our permission to eradicate them," the representative from the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures said as he plucked some specimens into a cage. "These are not authorised hybrids."

Happy vipers.

Happy basilisks.

Happy Pomona Sprout...

… and a suspiciously unhappy half-giant who claimed that the children that had gotten stung by the tail end of a spastic scorpion-hare were somehow out asking for trouble.

At least the bumbling idiot had admitted he might have been wrong when his dog ended up swelling up like a canine balloon and almost dying due to being stung by one of the creatures.

Poppy had said that the common belief was that Hogwarts was one of the safest places in Wizarding Britain, but Cadmus wasn't sure if he believed it. Assuredly, the place was better protected from outside invasion, but the inside was besieged by—

Utter stupidity.

Inexperienced magical children were a ticking time bomb of terrifying destructive genius all on their own, and some of the staff were, at least in his opinion—walking hazards to themselves and to others.

Cadmus shook his head. Perhaps, he was being too harsh. There were notably redeeming individuals, and he was fortunate to know them in his life, but he was starting to think he'd hit the jackpot Ministry lottery when it came to his apprentices.

After all, because of Hermione, he'd finally consummated a real relationship with Poppy—the crush of his exceedingly long life.

Severus was slowly slinking out of the nest, somewhat begrudgingly, to the savoury scents of a proper English breakfast. He took on his human form with a shrug that started from the cracking of his neck down to his toes. He snuffled towards the vacant bathroom, seeming more like a zombie than a living creature.

Fawkes sneakily snitched a cluster of grapes and absconded with a large heirloom tomato as well.

"Oi!"

Hermione checked him, but it was too late.

Fawkes fluttered off to perch somewhere high above to devour his tasty stolen prizes.

Hermione shook her cooking spatula at him and went back to herding the bacon, eggs, bread, tomatoes, potatoes, baked beans, and porridge.

"You didn't have to do all the cooking," Cadmus said as he stretched and went to pour a cup of tea.

Hermione smiled. "Severus cooked last time, and mam is overworked. She came in very late last night."

Cadmus chuckled. "I suppose, but it is very kind of you."

Hermione beamed at him and began dishing up helpings of breakfast on all the waiting dishes and then placed the stasis charm on it to keep it warm and fresh.

By the time Severus came out of the bathroom, all of the cooking had been done, and Lucius and Minerva both came out of the warmth of the nest.

"Ach, lass, you even gave me smoked kippers," Minerva said, pouring herself a cuppa and drinking it all down almost immediately.

Hermione smiled. "I know they are one of your favourites for breakfast."

"World's only cat-serpent," Poppy said with no little amusement, walking in the door. "Oh that all smells wonderful, Hermione."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione replied warmly.

There was a soft creak of the door as Draco cautiously slipped in. "Save me from the horror that is first love," he whinged.

"Son?" Lucius said suspiciously.

"Crabbe and Goyle are suddenly infatuated with—girls," Draco bemoaned. "I had to go and sleep in the common room just to get away from all that horribly embarrassing dream-talking," he shuddered.

"What do you mean embarrassing dream-talking?" Severus asked, narrowing his eyes.

Draco flinched. "Nothing, uh—"

Severus glowered at him.

"They whisper sweet nothings while they sleep!" Draco complained. "Worse, the Weaselette is back, and Goyle is totally smitten like some lovesick fool."

Severus frowned. "Crabbe and Goyle are hardly the dating type."

"He means their sons, Severus," Lucius said, realising that Severus was still back in his teens. "You may be right, regardless."

Severus arched a single dark brow. Then he speared one of his grilled tomato slices with a fork and promptly got down to the business of eating.

Hermione put out a selection of jams and preserves then passed Draco a heaping plate of food and went back to the kitchen to make more.

Before Lucius could stop him, he'd eaten half the plate.

Draco stared at his father. "What?"

"You just ate her share."

"She gave it to me!"

Lucius' lip quivered as his teeth ground together.

When Hermione came back to find Draco had used the serving plate as his personal one, she tried to look less disheartened.

"Share mine," Severus said. "You made a lot."

Hermione shook her head. "It's okay. I can make some more very quickly."

"Hermione," Severus said, his brow crinkling almost audibly.

Hermione hissed apologies, dipping her head to nuzzle his chin. She sat next to him, sharing his breakfast.

"Oi, what's with you two?" Draco said, mouth full of eggs. "You'd better not have the love bug like ruddy Goyle. That's just nasty. You're like… old!"

Lucius kicked Draco hard under the table, giving him a cold glare.

It was too late. Hermione had instantly frozen in place. She dropped her fork and leapt up from the breakfast table.

"May I be excused, please?" she whispered in a low hiss.

"Of course," Minerva said, a look of true concern on her face.

Hermione fled, rushing out the door as she hastily dropped the blinders over her eyes. Daemon, startled, tried to run through the door with the bone in his mouth, but it was huge, so it simply got stuck there. Heads one and three bickered with head number two until he dropped the bone and tore after her with a whine as the door squeezed him a little too much on the way out.

"Come back!" Tosa cried, sidewinding across the counter. The viper looked down to the floor, trying to make an eyeball determination if the drop would hurt. Tika used her weight to keep him from leaping. "Don't drop! It'll hurt!"

Tosa twisted himself into a knot in sheer frustration.

Severus stared down at his half-eaten breakfast and the cast aside fork that Hermione had held so recently. His knuckles had turned bone-white as lightning crackled ominously between the individual strands of his hair.

Before anyone could even blink. Severus was standing. He sent a hex at Draco, knocking him arse-over-teakettle off the kitchen stool as he fled out the door.

Draco groaned, pulling himself off the floor as his father, Minerva, a very curious phoenix, and two very irritated horned vipers all stared at him as his hair curled riotously, growing down to his ankles then turning a bright carrot orange as his pale skin broke out into a wild profusion of ginger freckles.

The vipers glowered at him, unimpressed.

"I want to bite him."

"Me too."

"Please don't," Lucius said. "He's been a costly investment of both time and money."

Tosa and Tika exchanged glances. "Maybe you need a new investment plan."

They tongue-flicked together.

Cadmus growled, storming out the door after his apprentices with a flurry of healing green and enough billow to make some of them wonder if Severus would, again, be learning from a master.

"Wait for us!" Tosa and Tika cried, throwing themselves to the ground, bouncing off Draco's head, and hurriedly slithering off to join the quetzalcoatl before he sprouted scales and feathers and brought the wrath of the South American ancient gods down upon all of Hogwarts.

"Fuck," Draco said succinctly upon conjuring a mirror and staring in horror at his reflection.

"Ten points from Slytherin for your horrible language, Mr Malfoy," Minerva said, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Draco groaned, rubbing his face with his fingers.

Lucius stood after gently blotting the side of his mouth with the napkin. "Please let Hermione know how wonderful her cooking is, Minerva. But I fear that my son and I are overdue for a very long chat with his mother."

Draco paled.

"I certainly will, Lucius," Minerva assured him, cleaning up the breakfast dishes with a wave of her wand. "You had best be hoping you haven't overly traumatised the girl, Mr Malfoy. You may have literal storm clouds following you for the remainder of your life."

Cracka-cracka-BOOM!

Thunder and lightning signalled the beginning of a sudden, fierce Scottish rainstorm.

Minerva's expression darkened as Draco prepared to face his doom with a large side helping of crow.


Severus attempted to find Hermione, but the basilisk had gone thunderbird in the blink of an eye, zooming across the skies faster than he could get a bead on her current position.

He wasn't sure what the source of the disquiet was other than it being quite obvious that Hermione was upset. Hermione being upset made the very innermost fibre of his being scream out to make things right

It wasn't that they couldn't disagree. They would often debate the properties of envenomation and how to counter it until long past their bedtime. He would want to stir anti-clockwise, and she would want to look it up first. She would want to charge ahead, and he'd want to hold back and make sure it was safe. They were both cautious as basilisks and brazen as thunderbirds—just not always at the same time as the other.

But why was her being upset this time unsettling him so much?

Stifling his first instinct of where he would go to sulk, he decided to think about where an emotionally-distraught witch would—

And then realised that wasn't going to work either.

Hermione was about as typical as a witch as a unicorn compared to a common plow horse.

Severus thought for a moment, trying to think where Hermione would consider safe that wasn't within the coils of the basilisk family. Where could she be?

Up?

Down?

In the dark like any self-respecting Basilisk?

Up high like a thunderbird?

Severus grunted, completely dripping from the downpour, making his hair frame his face in limp black clumps. His robes were soaking wet, and he was feeling pretty miserable just being human, which was a pretty odd feeling.

Since when had being human felt strange to him in its own right?

He had to admit that his life had taken a very strange turn, not that it wasn't completely for the better. Sure, Lily was gone, but so were his malicious tormentors. Even Dumbledore, whom he had memories of being let down by, wasn't in his life the way he'd remembered. Now, he had a highly competent master that actually looked out for him. He had—

A real friend.

That was the reason for his disquiet, he suddenly realised. For once, he had a real, true friend, and she was hurting. Part of him was arguing that it was something more than that, but it was refusing to tell him why.

Suddenly he took off, allowing his thunderbird shape to swallow him up, and he zoomed across Black Lake. Normally, the very sensation of flight would be exhilarating, but his mind was on entirely different things.

There was a small, barely-an-island out there, almost as if some great god had lost a spoonful of dirt while digging out Black Lake. Normally, getting there required the use of a boat or broom, and it was far too much work for most of the populace of Hogwarts when there were far easier places to get to for privacy—if there even was such a thing around a magical school.

There she was! He caught the slight movement against the grey of the rain. He dove downward as the storm raged, but the horrid weather was nothing to a thunderbird. He landed as lightning stuck, charging his feathers and making them poof outward as he thumped down next to her.

"GO AWAY!" Hermione cried, her beak open in threat.

"Why?" His beak clacked against hers, countering her movements.

"I'm hideous," she answered haltingly as if that somehow explained everything.

"Don't be daft, you're anything but hideous," he countered.

"Draco said I was nasty! That we are—nasty!" she repeated.

The thunder boomed even louder as the lightning hit the lake and one of the Hogwarts' towers.

"Draco is an idiot. Don't let his immature stupidity upset you," Severus said, his beak somehow turning into a scowl.

Hermione hunkered down, tucking her neck into her wings so her head seemed to sit on her body without any visible means of support.

Severus grit his beak together like he was grinding his teeth. "Do you like me?" he asked awkwardly, the power of his emotion causing the mist to flow off his body.

"Y-yes," Hermione answered quietly, looking down.

"And… you like spending time with me?"

Hermione's eyebrows knit together. "Of course I do."

"Then what does it matter what that blond-haired dunderhead thinks?"

Hermione's head turned to look at him.

"But he said—"

"Bugger what he said," Severus said fiercely. "What we share is not nasty. It's perfectly natural. Just because he can't have a close relationship with anything other than his own bloody reflection doesn't mean you have to take his word for anything."

Severus jerked his head, obviously having an inner dialogue that wasn't flattering. "He's a friend," he relented. "I get that, but—you don't take everything I say as the word of Merlin, so you shouldn't take his either."

"That's not true!"

Severus narrowed his eyes at her.

"I—" Hermione turned away. "I take what you say very seriously," she murmured softly.

Severus gaped in shock, his mouth catching flies. He clacked his beak together with a snap. "You… " He swallowed hard, his expression caught somewhere between wince and puzzlement.

"I trust you, Severus," Hermione explained softly. "You helped me when you were older. You were kind to me, and you didn't have to be. You were a bit—intimidating. I thought you hated me."

Severus managed to frown with a beak, his feathered crest laying flat.

"But, after Riddle tried to use me as a sacrifice and mam adopted me, you were more understanding. I didn't understand it then, but then I learned that you had many faces. When no one was looking you were kind. When people were looking, you were cruel. After the Chamber—you became my teacher. A real teacher. You stopped yelling at me. You taught me potions. I liked you, but you were so sad and—so very guarded. But, when you trusted me, you became a basilisk too. You seemed relieved, but you were still very sad."

Severus looked upward, getting a face full of cool rain. "I was hardly likeable to a lot of people when I was in school—well, from what I remember, anyway. I had to constantly look out for me or something could and would happen. If not from Potter and his crew of delinquents—" He sighed. "From my own House if I should show but one momentary sign of weakness."

"On one terrible day," he continued. "I lost my head, my dignity, and my best friend all in one fell swoop. It was the absolute worst day of my life. I used a word that I should never have used. I called my best friend the worst possible foul name that I could, and she refused to forgive me for it. From what I understand, she died—still believing me to be completely beyond any hope for redemption.

"That's rubbish."

Severus jolted. "What?"

"Friends forgive. I may not have many, but even I know that," Hermione said. "If she was truly your friend, she would have forgiven you eventually. Maybe not that day or even that week, but she would have in time. I may even forgive Draco for being a total berk," she added dryly. "Someday."

Severus frowned.

"She must have meant a great deal to you," Hermione said. "That's okay, you know? You can't help that. It's why I was so upset. I like you. I really like you, and I don't want to think that liking you is—vile."

Severus snuggled up to her, tucking her close under his wing and arching his neck over hers. "Having you as a friend is anything but vile," he said. "If I have to lose that to regain my memories then I don't want them back. I would rather be here—learning it all again, with you."

Severus frowned almost audibly. "Even if does mean experiencing puberty twice over."

The pair snuggled together as the storm clouds lightened, parted and then the sun began to trickle through the heavy cloud cover.

"Severus?"

"Hn?"

"Thanks for being my friend."

Severus carefully preened her head crest and lay his head over hers with true affection.

"Always."


"Are you a complete idiot?" Lucius hissed furiously, grabbing Draco by the collar and tightening his grip.

"No, father!" Draco wheezed, his feet dangling.

"I swear if you weren't my own blood, I would have you transferred to Gryffindor to learn proper humility!"

Draco paled—made even more unsightly by his profusion of freckles and long, fluffy, oh-so-ginger curls. "Please, no!"

"Since your lady mother has seen fit to see to a suitable punishment, I will not add to it save for this," Lucius said. "You will not seek out Hermione in any way that does not include adult supervision unless she approaches you first. You will do this until she feels she can trust you again. Is. This. Clear?"

"Yes, Father!" Draco whimpered piteously.

Lucius let Draco fall to the ground. "Now get out of my sight!" he hissed, for a moment his fangs unfolded from the roof of his mouth just enough to punctuate his extreme displeasure.

Draco hastily scrambled down the hallway as Lucius watched him with a dark scowl.

Lucius curled his lip as Narcissa's "punishment" of forcing their son into wearing suitably colour-coordinated feminine accessories to match his brand new head of lush red curls and freckles, all of which made him look like a bloody female Weasley.

Begrudgingly, he had to admit that Severus certainly hadn't lost his creative touch in the fine art of hexing. Not in the slightest.


Later, somewhere else in the castle…

Goyle leaned up against the wall as he watched the slim redhead walking into the Great Hall for dinner. The boy gave a low wolf-whistle as he said, "Hey, hey, hey! I didn't know the Weaselette had a twin sister in Slytherin!"

Draco whirled around, his grey eyes ablaze. "You shut your bloody mouth, Goyle!"

Goyle smirked and circled him like a hungry shark, making wet kissing noises.

All hell broke loose as Draco growled and threw a punch, sending Goyle flying (or rather, sliding) down the long table, picking up quite a collection of various foodstuffs as he went.

At that point, food started flying in all directions from every House table. Elves attempted to rush in and clean up the mess only to get caught in the crossfire of airborne bangers, mash, onion gravy, runner beans, yeast rolls, jelly cubes, and everything in between.

Only Luna remained calm and perfectly pristine under her conjured monarch butterfly umbrella, skillfully dodging any and all tasty projectiles. Every so often she'd snag something particularly she wanted, stuffing it into her mouth and munching away happily while reading the book in her hand.

The Head Table seemed to be resigned to a chaotic meal as their wards kept most of the food flinging confined to the Great Hall. They waited patiently for Albus to say something, but he continued to eat on, seemingly oblivious to the mayhem unfolding all around him.

Fawkes caught some fresh fruit on the fly and munched away merrily.

Minerva looked like she wanted to have a whole litter of rainbow-shifting flying crocodile kittens, stat.

Seeing as Albus was apparently stuck deep in his own private world, she stood up and cast a powerful Immobulus.

The entire room in front of her instantly froze in place: food, students, house-elves and tasty food-binging familiars.

"Everyone back to their seats at once and eat your lunch like properly civilised witches and wizards. Those with food on their hands will be serving detention with Mr Filch tonight and entirely without magic until the Great Hall is completely spotless!"

"Mr Malfoy and Mr Goyle, you will report to my office immediately after lunch."

The elves were busily replacing their airborne ammunition with a plethora of non-abused, unthrown food for the lunch hour to continue.

Draco and Gregory desperately attempted to sink through the floor, dreading the large impending points loss to Slytherin house.

Luna, however, hadn't moved at all as she continued to read her book—amazingly, completely spotless.


Luna dipped her toes into the lake and smiled. "At first I thought that Draco had been playing around too many breeding Nargles, but I guess it makes sense that you hexed him," Luna said casually. "Defending your lady's honour is important. Daddy says the time when wizards slapped each other with gloves and duelled each other with both wands and vicious beasts is long over. Pity. It would have been so much fun to see."

Hermione cocked her head, still not quite sure how to take in what Luna apparently saw every day.

"Headmaster Dumbledore has been hosting Rambling Grumblefits in his ears, I think," Luna said randomly. "I think his mind is somewhere very far away. Floating off somewhere. Did you know he recently lost his wand? He didn't say anything, but he has a new one now. He has a glamour on it. I don't think he expects anyone to notice, but his old wand used to attract Wrackspurts in droves. But his new wand doesn't. It attracts colonies of Fizzlewhippers instead."

Severus exchanged wry glances with Hermione.

"Did you know that your desert viper friends are one of the few things that house-elves fear? I think because of their innate magic. Elves fear losing their magic just as much as their wizard families do. It's probably why they are scared to come close enough to spy on you."

Cadmus lifted his head up from where he was reading his book.

"You didn't know? They're always spying for the headmaster, they're his many eyes and ears. You are among the very few people they won't spy on. They're much too afraid to."

Cadmus narrowed his eyes.

Luna shrugged. "It's probably because you're a god, too, and all that. Elves are so touchy about treading upon the domain of gods. I don't really blame them. The old ones tended to bathe in blood at various points in their life."

Hermione looked at Severus who looked back at her. They both eyed their totally speechless master and then slid their eyes over to stare somewhere, anywhere else.

Tosa and Tika tongue-flicked together. "We like her. We won't bite her."

Hermione shrugged. "Tosa and Tika like you. They said they won't bite you."

"Well, that's good," Luna said easily. "I rather like them too, and I like my magic where it is, even if it does occasionally go to roam and frolic with the Gasterbees."

Severus arched a dark brow. "Can't say I know much about Gasterbees."

"Most people don't. They are attracted to you when you are feeling stressed, then they teleport into your stomach and proceed to wreak havoc with your gastrointestinal system."

Cadmus belted out uproarious laughter. "My dear, I think that is the most interesting explanation of gastrointestinal distress that I've ever heard. I sincerely applaud you."

Luna smiled.

"Luna, where on earth are your shoes?" Hermione suddenly asked, frowning.

"They keep disappearing," Luna said. "It's really quite bothersome, but I can't seem to convince them to stop."

Tika perked at that. "We could park ourselves in her shoes one night."

Severus patted Tika lightly. "That would be a bit overkill, I fear."

Cadmus tilted his head and cracked his neck. "Perhaps a new charms project is in order, my apprentices," he said in a purr-hiss.

Severus and Hermione perked immediately.

"I think I shall teach you two the highly intricate art of trigger-animated transfiguration."

"Oh! Can I watch too?" Luna asked, her pale eyes alight with interest.

Cadmus seemed to ponder awhile. "As long as your other studies have been completed for the day."

"Oh, they are, I just have to get them down from the roof."

"Hermione."

"Yes, Master?"

"Go fetch Luna's homework from the roof, please? I'm presuming that Accio doesn't work on homework."

"Well, it works," Luna said, "but you would get all of my homework—from everywhere."

Cadmus raised a brow as Hermione took off with a squawk.

"Whoa, let me hold on, okay? Phew!" Tosa cried, curling around her neck a little tighter as she flew off.

"Miss Lovegood," Cadmus said kindly. "Why have your shoes and homework been going on walkabout without you?"

Luna shrugged. "I think, perhaps, that they are bored and decided to seek out adventure without me. I used to wear my shoes to bed because I would sleepwalk, but maybe it was the shoes doing the walking, and I was just there for the ride."

"Well, first things first," Cadmus said as Hermione returned with a beak full of homework scrolls. She deposited them in Luna's lap before transforming back.

"Thank you!" Luna said, relieved to have her homework back.

"Hermione, do you still have some of those exotic reptile moults?" Cadmus asked, giving her a meaningful look.

"Of course, Master," Hermione said, pulling a substantial bit of "exotic" snakeskin from her charmed apprentice bag.

"Ah, good. First things first, we will shrink this down so the scales are fine, and then we can make a potion to condition the moult into an appropriate leather. Go ahead and bring out your tool kits."

Hermione and Severus had their travel cauldrons out and set up in a flash.

"Alright, we'll start with a tanning potion first. Much like with our Desert Sun potion, we have the potion 'taste' the ingredients and replicate it throughout itself. In this case, brain, since it is easily found in dried, portable form—usually bat brain is used in most potions. However, fresh will work too and from any animal. Since we did some hunting the other day, we happen to have some fresh brains on hand. Now—are either of you familiar with the art of tanning?"

His apprentices shook their heads in the negative.

"The centaur brain-tan all of their hides to make them soft and warm as well as smoking it to make it more waterproof and durable. Now, we must consider the end goal of our project—and we cannot craft something like shoes lazily and simply rely upon our magic to fix things. That is the reason dragonhide boots are so expensive and always custom-made. Those that aren't—the users eventually have issues later on. Okay, both of you need to make me the same base we used to start our Desert Sun. I don't think I need to tell you how anymore, hrm?"

Hermione and Severus immediately set to work. When Hermione noticed Luna looking on eagerly, she and Severus exchanged glances. She pushed her cauldron over to Luna and shared with Severus, allowing the young Ravenclaw to join in to the best of her ability.

Luna, like any good Ravenclaw, knew perfectly well how to watch and emulate, and she studied and followed Severus' and Hermione's actions to the letter and gesture until both cauldrons were simmering with a flawless Desert Sun base.

"Okay, now put the pieces of the brain into your mortar with a bit of sterile water to make it just thin enough to dropper it. Fill a dropper and add one drop. Stir clockwise once. Add another drop. Stir counter-clockwise thrice. Add one more drop and continue to stir until it turns a bright golden yellow like—" Cadmus conjured up a piece of fabric the colour of goldenrod. "This colour. Do not stir too quickly or you won't be able to stop it in time before it changes colour again, and then you will have to start over."

Hermione scooted over to Luna to observe her pulverization and liquification of the brain mixture, pointing out when she had stray "bits" that needed to be dealt with. Luna continued to mash and stir until her dropper was full of perfectly liquified brain matter.

Hermione returned to help with the stirring, and Severus added the drops while she stirred carefully. Sometimes Severus' hand would alight on hers, guiding her hand a little faster or slower. Hermione did not complain and followed his gentle touch without question.

After their potion was bubbling a perfect golden colour, they helped Luna with hers until it, too, was glowing bright gold.

"Excellent," Cadmus said approvingly. "Now we give you both pieces of the moults, and you smear it liberally on the skin, thoroughly coating both sides. Do take care to avoid getting any on your hands, or there will be certain, ah… interesting side-effects."

"I rather like them," Luna said, staring at her bunny-headed fingertips.

Cadmus sighed, waving his wand to dispel the rabbit fingers. "Do be careful, Miss Lovegood. We wouldn't want to explain to your father why you have rabbit hands."

"He'd probably find it utterly fascinating."

"Now that the skin is thoroughly coated, you will notice that it is now quite slick to the touch. Use the twisting charm to wring it out. Then, use the rubbing charm to draw the hide across the smooth edge of either a log or the cauldron if it's empty. Here, I will clear this log for you." He gestured to a roughened log that had fallen during the storm and his magic removed the bark into a neat pile and smoothed the wood to a shine. "Do you remember the charm? Hold your wand at an angle and gesture like this."

The children mimicked Cadmus.

"The incantation is Levi Torquent. It means a light twist. Remember the light, as in gentle, else you will harm the fibres in a way that is not what we want to see here."

"Levi Torquent," the children said at once.

Luna's skin attacked her face, wrapping snugly around her head. Severus' spun around and around like a whirling dervish and landed in a nearby tree. Hermione's twisted slowly as she looked around with rather paranoid eyes.

Cadmus chuckled. "Too much inflexion, Miss Lovegood," he said. "Severus, a bit too little. Good job, Hermione. Keep trying until the skin is uniformly damp but not dripping and draw it across the log until the fibres break up evenly. Thanks to the potion, this shouldn't take long."

They worked their potioned skins together as Cadmus guided them.

"Ah, good work," Cadmus said as he examined the finished skins. "Now we let them sit and let the potion do the rest of the work. Can you tell me why this potion is important?"

"Durability?"

"Correct, what else?"

"Waterproofing," Severus said.

"Indeed."

"Miss Lovegood?"

Luna tilted her head. "Elasticity."

"Good, since we are ultimately making something that is going to be worn, those qualities are very important, and magic should never be used to shortcut quality, only enhance the quality that it is already imbued with. Does this make sense?"

"Yes, Master," they replied.

"Yes, Master-healer," Luna said.

"Alright, you have a break for one hour to shake out your legs and stretch. The squid looks like he's feeling rather cheeky today. Perhaps you can go amuse him and keep him from flinging rocks at the Whomping Willow."

"Thank you, Master!" they all said, rushing off to do just that.

Cadmus smiled, glad that his snakelings had adopted themselves a quality, if quite eccentric, new friend. Who was he to judge?


Argus Filch raised his eyebrows as two Ravenclaw girls tore down the hallway, screaming hysterically, as they were chased by two pairs of extremely irate, fanged shoes with snarling mouths where the toes would go.

Mrs Norris stared after them, then meowed, peering up at her master.

"You're right, Mrs Norris," Argus sighed. "Children are downright barmy."

A long-haired, sleepy Ravenclaw shuffled by, bare-footed. "Excuse me, Mr Filch, but have you seen my shoes?"

Argus blinked. "Might have, Miss Luna. Do they have snarling mouths and chase people down the halls?"

Luna frowned. "Not while they are on my feet."

Argus frowned. "How about when they aren't on your feet?"

"I suppose they would do as they like," Luna replied airily, "but I would much prefer they be there when I need to walk around."

"Reasonable, I guess."

"I thought so."


Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe dove headlong into the castle's kitchen, shutting the door in a desperate attempt to prevent the rampaging evil shoes from getting at them.

"Did you know she enchanted her shoes?" Cho demanded.

"How the hell would I know that?" Marietta screeched shrilly.

"Do you think they might be gone now?"

Marietta opened the door a bit and carefully peered out

RARRRRRRRKRKRKRFFSSSST!

The shoes snarled, slavered and lunged at the door.

Marietta hastily slammed the door shut again. "Shite! Yes, they are still there!"

Cho was silent, a soft whinging squeak coming from the back of her throat.

"What, Cho?!" Marietta groaned, utterly frustrated.

Cho tugged frantically on her friend's sleeve.

"What!" Marietta turned around—

A large black basilisk was assisting a smaller one into position, helping to stick her small snout into the pitcher of heavy cream on the top shelf.

The basilisk froze, sensing eyes upon her. Each basilisk had a horned desert viper wrapped around their eyes like a living blindfold.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

The girls shrieked together, opening the door to run out only to get themselves savagely mauled by Luna's brassed-off shoes and end up tumbling into a pair of patrolling prefects. They all tried to stand up at the same time and conked their heads against the others simultaneously, falling back onto the floor, thoroughly dazed.

And in Cho's and Marietta's case, with a snarling shoe clamped tightly to their nose.

Professor Flitwick, who was clad in his evening attire of navy blue dressing gown and comfy slippers as he headed toward the Headmaster's office, found the two students he was looking for. His eyes widened comically as he watched the snapping shoes doing their level best to eat the girls' faces off with their leather and rubber fangs.

"Do I even want to know?" Filius said with a sigh, slowly shaking his head.

"Ah, so that's where Miss Luna's shoes went off to," Filch said as he rounded the corner, Mrs Norris padding along behind him. "She'll be happy to know she hasn't lost yet another pair."

Flitwick wrinkled his nose as he levitated all four injured students at once, taking them to the infirmary. He and Argus talked quietly as they walked down the hall and away.

Severus stuck his serpent head out between the doors and tongue-flicked then disappeared back into the kitchen. "Your monthly cravings are surely going to be the death of someone," he hissed to Hermione.

Hermione hung her head. "I really couldn't help it. The craving was so intense. As bad as the water buffalo I wanted last month."

Severus sighed and gently rubbed his snout against hers. "Come on, let's get out of here before your cravings lead us on a safari to the Plecosine Era."

Hermione was eyeing a tasty Fuji apple that was sitting all alone on the countertop.

Severus rolled his eyes, snatched it up in his mouth, and lured Hermione out the door and away with the taunt of sweet fruity goodness—and the basket of chocolate fairy cakes that he skillfully pulled along with his coils as they sank into a Disillusioned shimmer.


"Do you remember what happened, Miss Cho, Miss Edgecombe?"

Dumbledore found it a bit redundant to ask considering both girls had a growling, angry shoe still chewing on their face. Every attempt to halt the enchantment, even temporarily, made the cranky footwear even more snappy and irritable.

"It was Luna!" the two girls cried together, wailing hysterically. "She's such a bloody FREAK!"

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "How exactly do agitated shoes attached to your faces point to Miss Lovegood as being anything but an innocent young witch who has reportedly gone about barefoot on a number of separate occasions, hrm?"

"These stupid bloody shoes prove it!" the bullies cried together, whimpering and snivelling. "Anyone who wears shoes like that—she probably made them herself! Only a freak would make shoes that—that—a-t-ttack people!"

"Actually, it was I who enchanted the shoes to protect themselves from theft," Dumbledore said gravely. "At the request of Professor Flitwick, who had noticed that Miss Lovegood has had a very hard time holding onto her shoes."

Mad whispering began amongst the crowd of eavesdropping students in the hall, all of them aghast that Cho and Marietta had apparently just called Headmaster Dumbledore a freak.

"No, nononono!" the girls cried, realising their enormous blunder would be all over Hogwarts in a matter of seconds, not minutes.

Albus rubbed his beard. "I fear you will both be sent directly to Professor Flitwick's office after Poppy finishes tending to your wounds unless you have something else you wish to address regarding this series of unfortunate events?"

The two girls shook their heads frantically.

Albus looked at each girl in the eyes and then nodded. "I see. Once Poppy is done, you will report to your Head of House. On top of whatever punishment he decides for you, you will be serving detention with Mr Filch for the entire time during which Miss Lovegood's shoes were repeatedly going missing, the specifics of which will be determined by your own Head of House. You will also lose fifty points each for Ravenclaw for your cruel deeds and fifty more for each deed you did not already confess to me, which will likely come up in your subsequent meeting with Professor Flitwick. I believe I have no choice but to send you back to Durmstrang as you have obviously not learned enough to return to Hogwarts on good behaviour. We had hoped that the discipline learned there would have helped you readjust here, but I see I was mistaken. I will be speaking with the High Master of Durmstrang in the morning to have you transferred back."

The two girls managed to look utterly mortified as Dumbledore nodded to Madam Pomfrey and exited the hospital wing.

Poppy eyed the enchanted shoes. She decided since her wand did nothing to the shoes, she would try to coax them off by hand. The moment she touched them, both shoes promptly leapt into her arms, snuggling and purring like happy kittens.

Poppy sighed. "Let's get you two patched up. I doubt you want to spend the rest of the night hanging about here in the hospital wing."

"Actually, I think we'd really like just that," Marietta said as Cho nodded fervently.

Poppy's eyebrow took a sharp dive up into her hairline. "I… see."


Hermione neatly chopped up the daisy roots as Severus gingerly added pinches of it into the potion. He wrinkled his nose as the odour of something burning came from somewhere else in the castle.

"Must they be such witless imbeciles?" he asked of no one in particular.

Hermione shrugged. "From what I hear, they aren't permitted to use magic to accomplish the tasks Mr Filch has assigned them. Everything they've done so far has been borderline cataclysmic."

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How are your cramps today?"

Hermione huffed. "Well, I don't want to stab myself in the abdomen and rip out my own ovaries like I did yesterday."

Severus raised a brow. "Good to know. Did the potion help any?"

"Yes, thank you so much for brewing it for me," she said, smiling warmly at him.

His smile was brief but genuine. "You are welcome. I cannot imagine wanting to do myself serious physical harm every month as a standard operating procedure. I have craved things before, but nothing like what you have described."

Hermione switched from daisy roots to African singing tubers, continuing to chop. "Master says it's because of the unique mix of venom and tears in my blood. It makes for—well, strange monthly cycles when compared to normal witches."

"Tch. It's normal for you. Besides, look at all the good you've done because of your mixed blood. You gifted that to us as well."

Hermione lifted her head. "You really don't mind, do you?"

Severus mirrored her brow with his own. "I don't think you realise what a wondrous gift you give simply by being you, Hermione. How incredibly rare and precious you are." Severus rubbed his hands, wincing slightly as he worked out a knot. "I may not remember everything about my life after school, but I've recalled enough to know that my life was shite before I met you. I had a friend I thought would be my friend no matter what, and I found out how easily that was not so."

Hermione had stopped chopping and placed a stasis over her work and washed her hands. She took out a jar of liniment and gestured him over. "Come here. You're suffering."

He looked at her, conflicted.

"You are always taking care of me," Hermione said quietly. "For once, let me take care of you."

Severus shuffled over awkwardly as she took his hands in hers and dipped her hands into the liniment and rubbed it in, working it into his muscles thoroughly. As her fingers found the persistent knots, she rubbed in more liniment, working out the angry, stubborn muscle until his fingers moved more smoothly.

She smiled at him. "Better?"

Severus just nodded mutely.

Hermione's eyes filled with warmth and she put away the pain rub and washed her hands before going back to her project.

Severus could only boggle at her as a stirring of something strange that might have been heartburn began deep within his chest.


Teamwork made the days pass by quickly, and under Cadmus' compassionate tutelage, their education surged far beyond what they could have learned trapped in a class where other students had to be tended at the same time. As the terms went by, they had projects for each, and every term had them creating a new potion or healing balm. Usually, they teamed up, focusing their efforts on something that did more than what was expected—not for some drive to prove themselves but for the challenge it gave them to make both work together seamlessly.

Before they knew it, they were already done with their O.W.L.s, having taken them like any other test and wondering what the big hullabaloo was all about.

It didn't take much for Cadmus, Minerva, and Lucius to realise that the bond between Severus and Hermione was quickly becoming unshakeable—more so than it had ever been when Severus had been older and more chained by his past, duty, and the selfish will of two terrible and powerful figures of Wizarding society.

Minerva said it was rather ironic that the young pair was finding an unassailable sanctuary under the scaled coils and feathers of an ancient god instead and that a god would be such a kind and patient teacher.

Cadmus, however, stated that he had learned better since his headstrong "younger days" as Waxaklahun Ubah Kan, the war serpent or Kukulkan for those with much shorter attention spans. He had gone by many names, but he was always the feathered serpent. His family had roots that went back to the primordial.

He taught them Nahuatl, the language of the ancient Aztec and so many of those that had become known as Mayan, guiding them into the magic of the spoken and written word as only one that had been living in such times could do.

They, like the students they excelled at being, absorbed every bit of the knowledge that Cadmus showered them with, and between his kind and patient guidance and Fawkes and Sithiss' lessons featuring the ancient wisdom of their Lord Father, they started to understand the tremendous breadth of responsibility that had been both gifted and hoisted upon them.

"To live for a hundred or even a thousand lifetimes. To touch upon eternity itself. This is something that few mortals can understand, my dear snakelings," Cadmus said as he encouraged them to put down their quills and go out to "play." He pushed them off with a slide of his feathered crest. "You will have plenty of time to learn but only one here and now. Please enjoy the now while it is still here, hrm? Find the things that make life worth living. You will have to find such things many, many times over throughout our very long spans of time."

And so they did. Together.

Severus went with Hermione to her Greek lessons with Daemon. Daemon developed quite a sweet tooth for loukoumades and baklava. They learned that cerberi did not have the same digestive tract that mortal dogs did, and he was allowed things such as chocolate and onions (though his breath made them seriously reconsider that after he ate a large gyros with an equally large helping of his favourite stinky cheese.)

They learned the social niceties that came with being apprentices, and they garnered favour from a number of masters while bringing their various projects to them for "formal" approval and registration. While Cadmus knew their work was flawless by the time they had to do so, each little project they turned gained the favour of but one more master in the field—stepping stones on the way to an expansive contact tree should they need it later in life.

The quetzalcoatl was highly versed in making connections around the world, so passing that on to his apprentices was hardly a large leap to make.

With each patent and release, their coffers grew larger, and they invested with the goblins in worldly places, sometimes even Muggle, filling their vaults to bursting to guarantee their adult life would not be limited to having to buy cheaper, less effective reagents for their projects.

Lucius made sure that their various projects got the exposure they needed by snaring apothecaries willing to "take a chance" on such new and unknown potions and salves, and he kept extensive lists on the ones that spurned them, smiling as only a Malfoy could when they came grovelling back in the hopes of picking up a production or distribution contract. It made the wiser investments and fervent support of the Goblin Nation all the more salt in the wounds of all the doubters and naysayers who believed no young student, even under a master, could ever create something "that good."

Minerva told Lucius he enjoyed such dealings far too much. Cadmus found it chuckle-worthy as he didn't have to do the threatening and luring himself.

Hermione and Severus were allowed to be young and oblivious to such business dealings, happy that their potions projects worked and were well received.

Before they knew it, it was already their sixth year. Their projects had enriched Poppy's infirmary, had led to the construction of a vast desert habitat greenhouse where Tosa and Tika felt comfortable enough to settle into when the breeding urge came upon them and developed an accidental "Acromantula attractant" that they'd put on the Whomping Willow only to result in the rather amusing sight of (what remained of the) Acromantulas filing out of the forest only to be punted elsewhere by the pissed-off tree.

The centaurs were quite amused, but Hagrid seemed (yet again) utterly livid.

He still hadn't forgiven Hermione for her having "stolen his dog" even long after the headmaster had informed him that keeping the cerberus in the castle after the first year would likely not have been possible.

Hagrid, of course, argued that if there was room "now" for a dog in the castle that he could have had Fluffy, too.

Daemon seemed to develop a rather nasty case of urgent bladder around the half-giant.

Dumbledore's house-elves continued to give the lot of them a very wide berth, and the elder wizard seemed to get more and more frustrated by his inability to find information in the way he preferred.


"You're a fool, Albus," Aberforth snapped as he slammed a drink down in front of his brother. "Ever since you left Ariana to chase your dreams with Gellert, hell, even before that, you're had a mind full of how you want the world to be and how to make it happen without a thought as to how many people you'd have to step on to get there. You and your crazy dreams of ruling in a world without the Statute of Secrecy."

Aberforth fed the two cooing pigeons on the sill some seeds and bread making sure the strikingly dark grey-black one and the reddish-brown one both had an equal share. Other pigeons attempted to land on the sill to grab for the food, but the black one nailed the interlopers with its beak and swiftly sent them packing. Aberforth chuckled and gave the pigeons some extra food for their amusement factor alone.

"He's aware of me, now," Albus murmured.

"Who? Did Moody finally figure out that you're full of shite?"

Albus shook his head slowly. "Death, Aberforth. Death."

"We all die, Albus," Aberforth said with a dismissive snort.

Albus cradled his head in his hands. "This is different, Aberforth. He knows what I was trying to do."

"It's about time someone put you in your place, Albus," Aberforth growled as he cleaned the bar glasses by hand, setting them carefully in their places. "Merlin knows you never listened to me or anyone else when it came to reason."

"He'll come for me, Aberforth," Albus said worriedly.

"Can you honestly blame him?" Aberforth said. "Even if you did manage to collect the Hallows by some miracle of myth, do you seriously think that something as ancient and powerful as Death would take that well? How would you like it if someone yanked you around by the cock and told you what to do." Aberforth smiled. but not kindly. "Oh wait. Been there, haven't I? Don't think that my inexplicable obsession with goats somehow failed to reach my notice, Albus."

"Ariana deserved to live in a world where she didn't have to hide what she was!"

"YES, SHE DID!" Aberforth yelled, slamming a mug down on the bar. Foam frothed everywhere. "But she deserved to LIVE even more. I would have taken a thousand statutes of secrecy if it meant our Ariana was alive and well, and what the Hell do you think controlling Death would do? Bring her back? Bring back our father who died for her? Bring back mum who died because of her?"

"It would create a world where people like Ariana would never have been beaten in the first place!"

"You think violence is going to go away because you control Death? Pull the other one! People just get more creative about how they are going to do it! Look at what that boy you rescued turned into! You've been creating wrecks all over Britain and you stand there like you are some kind of great magnanimous being who blesses the world with your benevolence. Get off it! You're an idiot if you think that becoming the master of Death is going to solve anything. It'll just make it all worse. Just like you did with Riddle. Just like you did with our sister. Just like you did with every bloody member of our family when you fell in love with that maniac."

"I need help, Aberforth."

"You do at that," Aberforth said with gritted teeth. "But you're decades too late, Albus. I have nothing left to give you but scorn."

The two pigeons on the ledge finished up their piles of crumbs and flew off into the sky.


Cadmus steepled his fingers together as his two apprentices finished their brewing project to help restock the infirmary. He'd once thought Mungos wanted a never-ending supply of potions, but he was starting to think magical schools needed more than any hospital ever did.

Their pigeon potion had tested out quite well, and they had brought back a fascinating conversation that had him pondering his next shed in great detail. Mortal scheming and plotting always made him itchy to shed and undergo a good moult.

The pigeon potion would go off to the Department of Mysteries to serve their Unspeakables. They'd needed something that couldn't be dispelled with any amount of wandwork—something utterly innocuous and easily dismissed.

Nothing went as easily dismissed as rock pigeons, Cadmus figured, so his apprentices' latest little potions project had the green light right from the start. Tested against various spells, hexes, and even Thief's Downfall, the two (dripping) pigeons had remained pigeons until the antidote was taken (seeing as they didn't want to wait out the full twenty-four hours for it to wear off naturally.) Their biggest tweak for the potion was making the pigeon more resilient than the natural bird because nothing would have been as embarrassing as having some random agent of the DoM murdered by a hungry peregrine falcon or some such aerial predator or worse a spinning turbine, never mind the random child or adult idiot playing with his brand-new bb gun.

It was a great success, and the contractual payment for developing it and giving the rights to the DoM was going to add another thick layer of galleons in their combined vaults.

He was very proud of his young snakelings, and Minerva and Lucius were too. They'd grown in a fine pair of apprenticed healers, and they were going to be an excellent team when they were on their own, not that they showed any desire to branch out quite that far any time soon.

Cadmus didn't mind. They had a long life ahead of them. They could take their time as only those of their ilk could. The responsibilities that came with age could wait, and Cadmus had experienced growing up in a time when his kind were revered as gods—a responsibility he hadn't truly understood until the coming of Cortéz had eroded and eventually cast the Aztec into a sea of civil unrest. They had also brought disease and the kinds of weapons the like of which the people that worshipped the old gods had never seen.

They had believed Cortéz was the coming of Quetzalcoatl in human form, forgetting that their gods had always come to them in a physical form. His family's attempt to "wean" their people into depending on themselves and not the gods to make the lands fertile had made for a disastrous end. Their attempts had already caused much unease, and the coming of the invaders had only hastened the anarchy.

Cadmus had learned much from the fall of the Aztec and the war both of weapons and disease. He had become a healer because of it, dedicating his existence to saving people, beings, creatures, beasts, and all manner of life in between.

And it had only taken how many centuries for him to find himself with not one but two apprenticed snakelings and the love of his exceedingly long life?

Perhaps Mictlantecuhtli was, in fact, finally satisfied with his penance.

Or—perhaps he was simply done punishing himself.

Cadmus lifted his head as he heard his snakelings laughing and teaching Daemon a new trick. The cerberus was playing dead on the floor, his tongues hanging out, mouths wide and eyes glassy, and he exuded the putrid stench of ripe cheese.

The two snakelings were making gagging noises as they hastily opened a window and freshened the air with several sprays from an atomizer filled with a fragrant mix of scented oils. Fawkes spontaneously combusted, and Sithiss had her snout buried into the nearby curtains in an attempt to hide from the odour.

Cadmus hid a laugh behind his hand as he continued to write on his parchment. Snakelings. They never ceased to amuse him.


"It's been nothing but a curse, Neville!" Harry said dismissively as he waved him off.

"No, it's not!" Neville whinged. "I can sneak into the greenhouse and get clippings. Please! I need those clippings!"

"Why don't you ask Professor Sprout for them instead of skulking about the castle, yeah? We're bloody sixth years now, not some inexperienced little firsties!"

"She's been too busy!"

"Then ask Apprentice Snape or Granger!"

"N-no way!" Neville said, shaking his head adamantly. "I don't care if he's Professor Snape's third cousin thrice removed, he's just as bad as Snape himself. That glower he does must be genetic!"

"Neville, it's really not a good idea," Harry warned his friend. "Every time you use it it takes something away if you aren't using it for wholly unselfish reasons—"

"This isn't a selfish reason, Harry!" Neville said adamantly. "It's for my project!"

"So, it is selfish!"

"No! My project is going to help people!"

"Then go ask Professor Sprout or one of the apprentices to get you access!" Harry insisted.

"Harry, listen, I need those cuttings tonight!"

"Whatever for?"

"It's a full moon! The last day of the full moon! I have to have them tonight!"

Harry scowled.

"Come on, Harry! Just this once and then I swear I'll ask through proper channels next time. Please!"

Harry shook his head. "There is always a price," Harry warned. "You may not like what that price is."

"Stop with all the doomsayings, alright," Neville finally snapped. "I'll be back in just a few minutes. You've been hanging around those apprentice friends of yours way too much."

Harry rolled his eyes as he opened his trunk and gave Neville the cloak. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."

As Neville scurried out the door, flipping the cloak over his head, Harry had a twinge of dread pool in his stomach. Hermione had tried to tell him that he needed to return the cloak to Death or else the curse that followed any item that left Death's domain would taint his life forever.

The cloak did not belong to him.

The cloak was not of this world, she'd said.

But the cloak was the last tidbit of family history from his father, and he simply couldn't let it go. Sometimes, he'd wear it just to feel closer to his dad.

But—

He'd started to feel like Hermione hadn't been lying to him or trying to ruin his fun. Hermione had always had a certain, if strange, solemn wisdom—ever since her parents had died. Ever since she'd been blinded.

Sometimes, the weight of the cloak seemed unusually heavy, and the more he used it, the odder things became the day after. He'd have a worse day after using it or an increase in bad luck. It was easily dismissable at first, but it kept happening, every single time. But when he used it to save Joe Greene from the Thestral stampede, he'd had a good day afterwards.

What had Dumbledore said to him back when he'd tried to look into the Mirror of Erised too often? He'd warned him that anchoring himself to his dreams was no way to live, and then he'd moved the mirror away.

It was just a cloak, Harry told himself. Magical, but hardly some Hallow from Death Himself.

But, he was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, it really was a cursed cloak.


Neville smiled as he clipped several cuttings off the rare moonflower. He'd surely have the best herbology project ever when he proved that any plant, magical or otherwise, could be started from cuttings, even the incredibly rare South American Jaguar Moonflower.

He'd been trying to figure out how to get a cutting for months once he'd seen it, and he'd begged Professor Sprout to let him take a cutting, even a little cutting! But she had flatly refused him saying that it was the personal property of Healer Chadwick and was not to be disturbed any more than the strange desert biome they had set up in a new greenhouse.

He heard there were desert vipers in the sand in that place, though, so he didn't try and step foot in there—

But the Jaguar Moonflower was right there in greenhouse three! Right out in the open. Sure, he thought, it was in the advanced greenhouse that only advanced students even had access to, but why leave it in a place where all the students could see if it wasn't to be used?

He carefully wrapped the cutting in a damp piece of linen, but as he tried to tuck it away, the flower snagged on his sleeve. He tugged it away only to find that the stem tendrils had already started to entwine around his fingers.

Tsking, he unwound the tendrils, but his very touch seemed to only encourage them further. They grew even faster, and then—

"Ow!" Neville hissed as one of the tendrils burrowed deep into his skin.

He tugged to get the tendril out but winced when it didn't show any signs of coming out. Worse, the strange podlike growths on the stem were pulsating as if they were pumping something into—

Oh, Merlin, no, he thought, frantically digging at his skin to remove the burrowed tendril.

The moonflower on the cutting suddenly turned its head and sneezed on him.

Neville fell onto the floor in the greenhouse, convulsing wildly as the blackness claimed him.


Hermione picked up the cloak in her snout and tongue flicked as Severus nosed her gently. They looked down on the greenhouse floor and shook their heads.

Neville was sprouting fur everywhere they could see as whiskers were protruding from his face. Bulging teeth were pushing out from his jaw as his (now) flat tongue stuck out the side of his mouth. His new pelt was covered in floral rosettes that looked like moonflowers. Flowers sprouted down his spine in a pseudo carpet, covering him with a thick coating of golden pollen as a vine-like tail protruded from his bum and sprouted a moonflower on the end.

Severus' snout wrinkled, his scales shimmering in his disgust. "What in the nine hells is that?"

Hermione, whose head was "missing" thanks to the cloak, tongue flicked. "Let's get this to our Lord Father before something even worse happens."

Severus shook his head and slithered away into the night with Hermione as Daemon hastily dug a deep hole in the greenhouse floor, shoved Neville into it, and buried him with dirt, peeing on top of it all before bounding off after his mistress.


Memo

From: HBOY Amelia Bones

To: Unspeakables, Special Projects Division

Okay, folks. I know this isn't anywhere near normal in anyone's scope of normal, not even Manfred's, but what we have here is a Hogwarts student who managed to get infected by the Jaguar Moonflower. He not only got sap on himself but also snorted the pollen.

One we could have fixed fairly easily, but exposure to both seems to have triggered a dramatic transformation into the Moonflower Jaguar, and its sole existence is to protect the main plant from being predated upon.

The bad news, other than the fact we need to work on getting Neville Longbottom human again, hopefully with his mind intact, is that the pollen we had been waiting an entire year to obtain via the yearly blooming was all inhaled by Mr Longbottom. Cadmus Chadwick's apprentices had attempted to go to the greenhouse to harvest the pollen only to find that Mr Longbottom had already beaten them to the flower.

The good news is, Mr Longbottom sheds pollen all over (for how long no one knows, as no one else has been stupid enough to expose themselves to the flower during a full moon in centuries) so we are going to collect what we can and experiment to see how effective it is compared to the mother plant itself. We can only hope it is even half as potent, as we have several dozen very ill children suffering from the green dragon pox variant who desperately need the tonic made from this pollen.

So, figure out how to cure the idiot, if at all possible, but collect just as much pollen as you can.

I'm going to go talk to Pomona Sprout at Hogwarts and attempt to ascertain precisely how Mr Longbottom managed to get past all the wards on the bloody greenhouse in the first place. Sprout tells me unless Mr Longbottom had a way to be sodding invisible, that there was no way he could have gotten past the honking daffodils and the Venomous Tentacula without waking her up.

If it weren't for the fact that the Jaguar Moonflower requires being planted by other very specifically hard to grow plants to encourage it to bloom as well as surface light conditions, I'd have had them try to bloom it here in the DoM. Dumbledore refused to allow us to guard the plant ourselves because the "students would get nervous."

Well, he may now regret having denied us that now that he has to explain to Augusta Longbottom why her grandson is a mutant.

Someone needs to go get Manfred an extra-large crate of fresh mangoes. I have a feeling he's going to have his wings full of fun with this bit of utter stupidity.


Hermione yawned widely, her jaw seemingly dislocating with the power of it. Her jaw made a popping noise and then she lay her head back down.

"Bored, are we?" Severus asked, laying his head over hers, his tongue flicking idly.

"Just tired and not particularly feeling inspired to do much," Hermione said. "Does that make me a horrible apprentice?"

"Just a very tired one, I'd imagine," Severus said. He let out his own yawn and rubbed his body against hers. "We've finished three projects in the last two weeks. I think we deserve a little time out."

Hermione curled closer, her body doing its best to coil as close as possible to Severus'.

Severus' attempted to accommodate her, but they ended up in a complex tangle of scales and muscle. Hermione, however, seemed happy enough with the outcome and let out a contented serpentine sigh.

"The strangest things make you happy," Severus mumbled.

"You make me very happy," Hermione said sleepily.

Severus froze in place, his mind and body suddenly caught in the rigidness of unsurety. He swallowed hard, feeling like he'd tried to take on an elephant.

"I—" He grimaced, his serpentine snout forming a strange expression. There was a beating in his chest like a second heart trying to free itself, and he was doubly confused on just how to deal with it. Protectiveness for her had come so very naturally, even instinctively. Camaraderie as fellow apprentices and mutual basilisks had seemed like something reasonable and even logical. Cadmus had said that the bond between those of the scale went far deeper than what most warmbloods could ever understand.

Was that what she was feeling? Was that what he was feeling?

What if—

What if he wanted more?

He felt a moment of panic. What if she didn't?

His mind took a trip back to his frantic chase after Hermione back in her third year when Draco had sworn that anything between the two of them was "nasty."

Draco had long since grovelled himself back into Hermione's forgiveness, but she had never quite let him back in like she once had. Lucius had driven his son away mercilessly until Hermione had been ready to face the boy again.

Ironically, it was Harry that had been the voice of reason in making Draco understand the depth of his mistake. Harry understood exactly what it was like to be treated as a freak, and it was part of why his own actions at the beginning of his Hogwarts career had caused him to reevaluate both his behaviour and how he'd affected Hermione from the very start.

Severus knew that Hermione still considered them friends—Harry, Draco, and Luna especially, and yet there was that part of her that held onto that old betrayal much as the basilisks of old whose eggs were corrupted by the three brothers. She was, by her very nature, forgiving but quite sensitive, and it made protecting her a delicate dance of scale and fang. Even those like Luna, who understood what it was to stick out and be misunderstood, were still often followed by peers who treated Hermione as someone somehow even stranger than Luna herself.

She was still viewed by most as the weird girl who was blind and who had inexplicably "ensorceled" the elder Malfoy. She was still "Granger" even after she became a McGonagall. She never fit in with her peers.

Severus scowled. Neither had he. Nothing had really changed there.

Except for her.

From what Lucius had revealed to him, Hermione had always been kind. She'd trusted Lucius even after what he'd done to her while possessed. She'd trusted Severus, something few did. Death Eaters were not exactly trusting sorts.

The truth was, despite Lucius filling him in, and McGonagall answering whatever questions he had, he didn't remember that part of himself. What he did remember was that Hermione had been the first kindness he had ever known outside of Lily's tolerance.

She was the kind of warmth that made its home in his chest and grew into this depth of emotion that he could barely fathom, let alone stop stumbling over himself in his effort to come to terms with it all. He couldn't imagine a life without Hermione in it, and the thought of them going off into the world doing their own individual thing and perhaps writing to each other once or twice a year downright terrified him.

But the idea that she might not want something more with him—that their bond was solely one of friendship of the scale and fang—

That scared him even more.

But if he didn't say something soon—

If he let her think he just wanted things to stay just as they were—

It would always be worse to be stuck in some sort of friendship limbo, wishing for more but unable to do anything about it.

He had to know.

He didn't want to know.

He did.

But he didn't.

All but turning himself into a pretzel in distress, he shifted back into his human form. He had to be brave, if but for a moment.

For the rest of his life, his heart seemed to beat out in code.

Great, he was surely going to give himself an arrhythmia just trying to get the words out of his bloody mouth.

"Hermione," he said, painfully aware of every sodding stupid thing he had ever done in his life, and that was only the things he could remember.

Hermione shifted back into her human form looking quite vulnerable and confused. She looked at him as if he was about to reveal some terrible, cutting truth. "Severus?"

"I cannot even begin to imagine my life without you," he whispered. "Not now. Not ever."

Hermione frowned, looking down. "But," she whispered.

Severus blinked. "There is no but."

Her eyes widened as she looked him in the eyes.

"Even if I were to remember what was lost, I would still not wish to lose you," Severus explained quietly. "The thought of it is unbearable. If friendship is all we can be, then I will accept that, but I don't want to just be your friend. I want to be at your side throughout life, however long that may be."

Hermione reached out to touch his face, her fingers brushing against his cheek. He closed his eyes, his hand closing around her fingers as he pressed into her palm. "You're—sure?"

He opened his eyes and stared at her. "I'm hardly sure of anything anymore," he said, his eyebrows moving together with a crease, "but I am sure of that. I'm sure that I truly want—you."

Hermione brushed a strand of his hair behind his ear and pressed her forehead to his. "I'm not quite sure how to be in a relationship. What if I mess it up somehow?"

Severus huffed. "I'm no expert either," he said, shaking his head. "We can simply figure it out together."

"Together," Hermione whispered, closing her eyes. "I really like the sound of that."

A short distance away, a certain rather pleased-looking phoenix perched on top of Sithiss' head. "About time," he warbled.

Sithiss hissed. "The right time takes time."

"Spoken like a true serpent."

"At least I don't make grand emotional speeches like a certain combustible feather duster."

"Tch," Fawkes chided. "I'm a phoenix. Emotional churning is my lot in life."

Sithiss shook her head. Her tongue flicked. "I'm glad he found the courage to say something."

"He's braver than he thinks," Fawkes said. "I just hope Albus doesn't try anything really stupid. Lately, he seems more unstable."

"Wasn't he always?" Sithiss mused thoughtfully.

"No, he was driven," Fawkes said, floofing out his feathers and then smoothing them down. "I think he's looking for the stone."

"The stone?"

Fawkes nodded.

Sithiss let out a serpentine sigh. "All those who use the stone are doomed to live their life with shades."

Fawkes preened himself. "We could always have the snakelings find it first."

Sithiss seemed to smile. "Hermione and Severus are always good with new lessons."

Fawkes warbled. "Indeed. I do so love a good game."


End of Chapter Seven


A/N: The original ending of this chapter was going to be: And everyone dies. Horribly. Messily. (and it's all Dragon's fault for not being here to watch me closely)

Someone left me unsupervised for too long.

Let this be a lesson to you. Don't leave Corvus unsupervised for long. They'll kill everyone off. XD