Chapter 6: Not Quite A Monster

Severus stared as the great beast stilled against him and rose, her large, amber eyes gazing down at him with a sense of intelligence that told him that she was no mere monster. Her fur was a silver color that nearly seemed to reflect the muted light in the room, though her back haunches, which ended in cloven hooves, were more of a frosted chestnut brown. Her tail was short, and two small, batlike wings twitched and extended from her back. They weren't quite large enough to look flight-worthy, but she could obviously control them enough to flap them absentmindedly. She yawned wide, exposing long, dagger-like teeth glistening with saliva. Severus held his breath as his heart twinged in his chest.

She was magnificent.

He had to force himself to glance out the window as the moments passed, certain that he should feel the change as well, and yet, he still did not feel the transformation take hold of him. He stared at his hand, expecting to see the green glow in his veins, but if it had been there at all, it had vanished. Oddly enough, he felt almost disappointed...which was odd, really, because he hated being unable to control his body fully. He hated the lack of control and his deference to the manticore's whims and emotions.

He'd only found Hermione because the beast had wanted to run through the woods even though Severus hated the cold and the snow, and so they had. He'd picked up the scent of her blood; a scent that was somehow familiar and most certainly human. Her twists of silver hair shone in the light of the meager sun like a beacon and he was at her side in a heartbeat. His mind had come back to him- he knew she was close to death, and rather than eat her like any manticore would at the sight of blood and bone and struggling, he'd hoisted her over his shoulders and brought her home to his lair.

Ugh. Lair. It sounded like something out of a ten-cent pulp horror novel, but it was the best way he could describe the old castle he'd purchased for so little out in the middle of nowhere with only a small village nearby. He'd wanted his solitude, but it had cost him. Though Mimi and Charlotte were constant sources of anxiety, he was thankful for them as well. Charlotte kept to herself, her face always in a book, and Severus marveled at how quickly she learned, even though she shied away from physical contact from everyone. She had made exceptions for Mimi a few times, but it was begrudging, and Severus could tell that it put her on edge. He also had no idea why Mimi wanted to dress up in the clothing she'd found in the servant's quarters, or why she incessantly went around cleaning the impossibly large space, but he did have to admit that it looked better than it had before, and the rooms she'd cleaned in the east wing had come in handy when Hermione had been brought in out of the cold.

Hermione...he shook his head. No...it would not do to get emotionally attached. A tiny voice in the back of his head whispered Too late, and he tried to dismiss it, but he knew he couldn't keep lying to himself. He'd read about the accident when it had happened, of course. He knew of her loss, though he'd ignored half of the venomous things that Skeeter had written about Hermione while she was recovering. He'd never liked Ron Weasley much- the boy had been an arrogant slacker in his classes and had a temper that uncomfortably reminded Severus far too much of his own when it was not under control- but that didn't mean the man had deserved to die. Weasley had certainly deserved to live far more than a hated Potions professor and well-known Death Eater, such as himself. It was yet another reminder that life was, as usually, not fair. And, regardless of Rita Skeeter's nasty suggestion that Hermione had gotten an abortion soon after because she "couldn't handle motherhood by herself," Severus had not joined the groups of outraged witches and wizards to condemn her, especially after she immediately quit her job at the Auror's office and went freelance. To many, that was a clear sign that Hermione felt guilt about her actions, or at the very least knew that the Ministry would likely sack her after the public outrage reached a fever pitch. Severus found the entire thing distasteful. Regardless of what had happened, it was her body, and she should be allowed to make whatever decision she wished regarding it.

He'd assumed that she'd want to survive, though, when she'd lain broken and bleeding on the duvet, her toes and fingers growing blue with frostbite. He'd transformed back by that time, barely taking the time to throw a robe on his naked body before rushing to grab the potions he needed and the wand he'd stored in the cabinet the moment the he began to feel the change coming. He'd poured potions down her throat and injected tinctures under her skin so that they would time-release and heal her, even if he was indisposed to be there. The simpler work he gave to Charlotte and Mimi, who could be trusted with easy dosages of foul-tasting throat syrup and the herbal skin salves to minimize the scarring so that Hermione would be able to move her arms and legs without nearly as much pain or discomfort, for scars tended to be a bit less flexible than unblemished skin. Anything to get her back to some semblance of normal, though at first, he hadn't recognized her. He'd merely seen injuries in need of treatment, much like he'd been unable to tear his eyes away from Dumbledore's withered hand to notice the man's tired smile and knowing resignation about it. His heart had leapt with some undefinable emotion when Mimi had told him her name, not that he'd ever admit it to anyone.

He should have known that there would be nothing ordinary about her stay, about who she really was.

Hermione made a chirping noise and began rubbing her head against his back, which forced him to steady himself. He halfway expected her to bite him in retaliation for what he'd done before, after all, though her eyes belied human intelligence, Severus knew that the manticore's mind would also hold sway over her body as well. His mind was not fully his own while he was transformed, which was why he'd caused plenty of damage while transformed, especially if the manticore part of his mind reacted to a particularly strong scent or sound of prey. Usually, as soon as he could get his wand back, he could magically repair everything, but with the transformation lasting longer and longer as time went on, Severus had not had the luxury to do so lately.

Charlotte's studies with arithmancy, a subject which the girl had a natural talent for despite being a squib, had suggested that his transformations were tied to the length of the day, and would get shorter now that they'd finally passed the winter solstice, but Severus was dubious about that thought. It was why he had been unable to do any brewing or experimentation for the past month. And now, even though the light outside was bright enough to make him squint as he stared up at them, he could not feel even the faintest stirrings of the beast within him.

He took a sharp breath as Hermione chirruped, her eyes golden just as his were while transformed. She made some strange noises and then tried to point to her muzzle with a questioning, squeaky mew. It seemed that she did indeed still have her mind, even though her body had changed to an extreme degree

"You can't speak in human language in that form," Severus said exasperatedly, still wondering if he should wait to see if he would transform as well, or if he should try and backtrack to find his wand and some clothing. After all, it was getting a bit drafty in his current state. "Didn't you get an Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures?"

Also, he'd learned from personal experience, but there was no way in hell he was telling her that.

Hermione snorted and Severus couldn't help but chuckle at the markedly annoyed look on her face. He'd never seen a disgruntled manticore before, and was fairly certain that usually, if one were to see such a thing, it would be the last thing they saw in their life.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm getting a bit cold, and seeing as I don't have a fur coat like you do, I'd like to go and throw something on over my carcass," Severus said, finally, deciding that he'd waited long enough. He could just go and grab another horrible, too-small, dusty suit that he wouldn't mind destroying from one of the old bureaus in the castle and cram his body into it until he transformed again.

Hermione made a strange thrumming noise and began to follow him.

"Oh no you don't!" he said, turning around and waving his hands in her face to stop her. "I can't be followed around by a godawful giant...thing!"

Hermione responded to this by pouncing onto him and proceeded to give him a tongue bath. Severus was not sure if this had been intended as some sort of twisted punishment, or if the manticore was starting to take control of her, but either way, he found himself pinned down as Hermione rumbled against him with a pleasurable purr.

"Gwahhhhh! Stop it! Mrfffff!" Severus was momentarily alarmed that he was about to be eaten or poisoned, but relaxed when he realized that she was being very careful not to use her teeth or claws and her breath did not hold the telltale acrid smell of poison.

As she moved on to groom his shoulder, stopping from time to time to scent mark him like an overgrown cat, he crossed his arms and scowled up at her.

"Kindly unhand me!" he growled, but his voice held no malice. He felt an acute sense of guilt due to the fact that he was responsible for Hermione's current predicament. The least he could do was endure her manticore-handling. Though there was the rather unfortunate fact that he was still completely unclothed, and, as he registered the bits of tattered night dress strewn around them, he realized that Hermione was technically naked as well- a thought that was unspeakably awkward and brought a blazing flush to his cheeks. Hermione stepped back, purring, to observe her somewhat soggy handiwork and Severus was glad that she'd only bathed the top half of him due to having the rest of his body pinned underneath her. Though he was human, he could still smell a faint hint of the maddening scent that had filled his manticore nose only a week earlier. It was a scent, he was realizing, that seemed to belong to Hermione and Hermione alone.

Severus knew both Charlotte and Mimi's scents by heart, but while both were unique, neither was even close to being as remarkably alluring as Hermione's scent. He shook his head and admonished himself silently. When had he begun to think of her by her first name? She was….no...she hadn't been his student for many years, and he had not been her teacher for just as long. Her silver hair and the fine lines on her face were reminders that she was no schoolgirl, despite his lingering memories of a bushy girl with buck teeth who'd barely came to his waist with the other first year students.

And she smells so good. The thought rose, unbidden, in his mind like a burst of flame, and he had to clamp the other thoughts that rose with it, lest his body betray him with its infernal response.

He pulled himself up to his feet and took a few steps towards the ruined door.

"Mrr?" Hermione questioned, looking at him with her soulful eyes.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, scowling in thought. Finally he turned and nodded.

"You can come, but you must behave!" he barked, trying to regain his composure.

Hermione head-bumped him in the shoulder and followed, purring all the while.