A/N: So... sleepy. *thud*zzzzzz
Beta Love: Alas, fluffpanda is off celebrating Thanksgiving. All mistakes are mine!
Heart of the Herd
Chapter 6: Insidious Mystery
Hermione loosed the centaur foals into the forest, watching them canter excitedly back towards the main encampment. She held her mother's nervous hand as she led her through the centaur lands, and the groups of visiting herds came up to greet her, curious as to her and her nervous mother at her side.
"Hermione," Magorian greeted. "Good to see you."
Hermione bowed slightly. "Magorian, this is my mother. She's been visiting for a few days, and the foals were restless to reunite with their dams for the weekend."
Magorian smiled. "I hope they haven't been too clingy, Hermione. You are the only one one they will prefer to cling to at Hogwarts. I fear we stallions cannot provide that special something."
Hermione flushed, recalling her surprise realisation that she had been lactating.
"Hello, dam of Hermione," Magorian greeted, bowing down on his front legs briefly. "I am Magorian."
"Hello," Mrs Granger said with a shy smile. She held out her hand, unsure whether to bow or shake hands. "Please, call me Rosemary."
"Rosemary," Magorian smiled. "A name any filly or mare would be proud to carry. I am honoured to meet you, Rosemary."
"This is Stormchaser, leader of the herd north of us," Magorian said as a pure white stallion joined them. "This is Rogan, leader of the herd east of us." Magorian gestured to a red roan centaur who bowed as Magorian had done.
"This is Astra," the red roan introduced. "Matriarch of the Southern Herd. The stars guide her bow that she will never miss."
Astra flushed and smiled, her black and white grulla coat gave her a hazy stormcloud look. "Flatterer, Rogan," the elder centaur mare said with a smile. "You just want to give me foals."
Rogan grinned. "Happily mated, Astra, as you know."
Astra walked towards Hermione gracefully. "My dear, Hermione," she said softly. "Come and let me look upon you." The elder female ran her hands across Hermione's back and flanks, tracing her dorsal stripe. She clucked her tongue against her teeth. "You are strong and beautiful, dear Hermione. I see, now, why the foals flock to you like moths to the fire. I pray you teach them your wisdom and strength as well as the magic of world."
Hermione blushed and nodded to the elder mare.
Astra placed her hands upon Mrs Granger, looking into her eyes. Her nostrils flared and her ears flicked forward. "You must have many questions, Rosemary, mother of Hermione. Will you walk with me?"
Mrs Granger looked at Hermione with concern, but Hermione nodded to her.
"Yes, of course," Mrs Granger said nervously.
"Your daughter speaks of you highly, Rosemary," Astra said with a smile. "Allow me to answer your questions. Come, walk with me."
As Astra walked off with Mrs Granger, the stallions smiled after them.
"Do not worry, young Hermione," Rogan said with a smile. "Astra is one of the wisest of our seers. Of all the leaders of the herds, her eyes see the farthest forward, and her memories span the furthest back."
Hermione furrowed her brows.
Stormchaser smiled, knowing what was on her mind. "Astra's great, great, great, granddam was Galene, mate of Anatolius and first female centaur of our race. If anyone can bring peace to your dam's heart, Hermione, it is her."
Hermione wiped a tear from her eyes and smiled.
"The mares wish you to join them for a time, Hermione," Magorian a smile. "It has been a long time since our herds have mingled together. You shouldn't miss it."
Hermione smiled shyly. "I suppose I shouldn't keep them waiting."
Rogan, Stormchaser, and Magorian grinned at each other knowingly.
Hermione pinned her ears back. "Disconcerting," she said with nervous whicker and walked deeper into the encampment.
Magorian grinned from ear to ear as she passed, giving the other leaders a wink.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Hermione had been thoroughly poked, prodded, examined, clambored over by the gathering of mares and the young foals who couldn't resist their curiosity to check her out. Even the shiest foal seemed willing to come nestle up to Hermione's side as the mare's sat together in the sunny clearing.
The day's order or business was making bags and baskets for carrying things for the long journey home, and not even the foals were exempt from sizings. Save the very young, all the younglings were herded up for their fittings, and each seemed excited to have their own carrying bags to wear.
Some of the elder mares were tanning hides from the most recent hunts while others were making the colder weather clothing for when fall would creep into the winter.
"You will find that the cold doesn't bother you as much as you might think, Hermione," a beautiful dun mare named Marshberry said. As it gets colder, your coat will become thicker and spread from your mane down your back, covering more sensitive skin, but you'll find that you're more resilient that you might think. We rarely have to bundle up like you see humans doing in their awkward layers and thick coats."
Three young foals bickered with each other over Hermione's side, and one young filly had her legs draped over Hermione's withers in order to hug Hermione's human back. She nickered nervously, clinging to Hermione. One of the other mares stood and used her body to shove the two precocious foals out of the way, barring them from returning to the place where the conflict was going.
"Hey now," Cattail huffed, giving an equine snort. "There are plenty of sides in which to snuggle. If you cannot get along, then you will have to find your own dam."
The foals, chastened, tried to make their way back to Hermione, but Cattail was having none of it. She barred their way with her mass, arching her neck and flattening her ears. Finally the foals settled down next to an older mare named Cloud, whose dark grey body and distinctive white mane resembled her name.
Cattail snorted and settled next to Hermione as her own foal nickered and came up to examine Hermione. Hermione's cling-on seemed more relaxed and allowed the other to snuggle up next to her, and thus Hermione ended up with two foals draped across her back.
Cattail snickered and settled down, folding her legs under her. "Feeling a bit like a bit of a foal magnet, Hermione?"
Hermione made a face. "Somewhat."
"Healthy foals will always be beset with curiosity,"Marshberry said with an amused whicker. "By a year or two they will follow around the stallions and take more interest in things outside our circle, but when stressed, they will always come back to us. Herd females are safety, and I think that is one instinct we are born with that never leaves."
Another small foal, who tiny tail had barely any longer hair on it wedged himself against Hermione's side and began to nurse. Hermione's eyes went wide, her ears pinned back.
Aellai, one of the elder females from the neighboring herd, chuckled. "That one is Abrax," she said with a chuckle. "He's an equal opportunity reassurance feeder."
Hermione perked her ears and flushed.
"He's the youngest of our herd, having only survived ten moons, He was the only foal this year, unfortunately. As you know, our species is not blessed with constant fertility. There are some years where we are not so fortunate." Aellai smiled sadly. "We treasure them all as they come, but this meeting between herds is the first time Abrax has had peers, and he's not sure what to do with that."
The other mares nickered in agreement. "We have spoken with the leaders, and we have decided to meet up more regularly now that there is not war keeping our territories under threat. It will allow our foals to mingle, our stallions to show off their prowess in hunting, and give us company as we tend the young and results of the hunts."
"That sounds like a great plan," Hermione said with a nod.
Abrax pulled his head up from nursing and seemed to notice the two fillies nearby. He nickered at them curiously, and the two fillies nickered curiously back.
Hermione noticed that body language and equine vocalisations were the standard fare for the foals below a certain age. The mares had said that human speech came later even though they understood speech quite early. The centaur foal, unlike a human baby who was all floppy heads and barely the ability to see further than their nose, was built to run within an hour of being dropped. They stayed wobbly for the first hour but were often ready to frolic as soon as their coat was dry. Their human bodies were, unlike human babies, more proportioned to that of a three or four year old. Mentally, they were driven by instinct to stay around their dam and the herd females.
The mares said the foals usually nursed regularly for about a year, after which, the mares had them weaned onto softer foods. Younglings, however, when stressed, would nurse for many years after that until they learned to conquer their startle reflex. That, according to most of the mares, happened in the equivalent of human teen years.
"It is crucial for the young to be well attached to the mares well into their older years, unlike human children," an older red roan mare had said as she groomed her foal. "For centaurs, the bond between individual and the herd is what kept them alive in harder times. If a mare were to perish, other mares would care for the orphan. If the foal was bound only to their dam, they would not suckle, and they would starve. This bond must be strong until the youngling is able to be an adult, because if you are fleeing danger, survival comes from being able to trust the herd even when you cannot see your dam, though the bond between a dam and her foal are always strong."
Hermione's induction into the herd "mare circle" was setting her at ease. She did not feel alone, and unlike some of the strange looks she received from her human contacts, the centaurs were more than happy to welcome another mare into their ranks. The method in which she was changed was treated with a sort of reverence that was instilled into their culture. The flowers, they all seemed to believe, were not capable of making mistakes. She and Severus were, as far as they were concerned, meant to be.
"Your stallion has such well formed flanks," one young mare said, winking at Hermione. "You should have heard the rest of us when we first saw him."
Hermione blushed profusely. It wasn't so much the talk of Severus' more comely assets that was embarrassing as much as she realised she wasn't alone in thinking he was more than attractive. The mares chuckled around her, nodding their heads. "A finely proportioned young stallion," one elder agreed. "A good thing all of us already have mates."
More nickering laughter went around the gathered mares. Hermione turned more red, but the mares all patted her gently.
"Magorian informed us that Severus would take time to accept a mating bond with you, Hermione," a mare named Elene said. "We are glad that he did not wait too long. We would have had unmated stallions trying to jump fences to get a look at you and your poor Severus would have been beside himself with conflicting instincts. We mares are more lucky in that our heads are more clear when it comes to balancing instinct and reason, perhaps because the need to protect the young is much stronger than a need to protect our mate. Stallions are hardwired to protect herd females from threats, and having random suitors showing up in the territory would likely drive him and the rest of the herd stallions mad with protective urges."
"Is it always so strong?" Hermione asked.
Marshberry nodded. "When a colt matures into a stallion, the protective instinct is very strong. In the early years of our people, mares were very rare. Galene, mate of Anatolius, was the first, and thanks to the blessing of the moonflower, our people realised how precious she was. She and every mare after her were protected fiercely, for they were the ultimate proof of love. Had there been no love, the flower would not have changed her and those like her, and our people would have eventually faded into Oblivion."
Hermione pondered the history, smiling.
"Mares were often so protected that many humans believed centaurs were only male," Elene chuckled. "They thought all centaurs came down from Mt. Pelion to descend upon the villages, get drunk, eat uncooked flesh, rape their women, and destroy their crops. To be fair, however, before the gift of Chiron, the humans were not incorrect."
Hermione winced. There had been a time when Hermione had counted on the centaur's high territoriality and seeming violence to "take care of Umbridge." Thanks to the war stirring in the background, the centaur had not been at their best, and Umbridge probably still had nightmares when she heard hoofbeats. It wasn't to say that Umbridge didn't deserve Azkaban for all of what she had done to people during the war, but Hermione knew that her act of counting on centaur violence to save Harry Potter had been an act that would not have been forgiven had it happened during peacetime. She had long confessed that sin to her centaur allies back when she was human. Magorian had placed a hand on her shoulder and said they were both guilty of making judgments of each other due to presumptions. Both of them, he had said, would learn of each other from the ground up starting at that moment, and they had. Thanks to their alliance, Hermione had ushered in a new age of acceptance between the centaur and the Wizarding World, and from that she had helped the Goblin Nation. From that, she had finally been able to put in place help for the house-elves, even though of all the groups, the house-elves cared the least about needing equality. The irony was not lost on her that her first driven quest for equality was a perpetual failure and embarrassment.
By the time Astra had returned with Hermione's mother, the elder Dentist seemed much more peaceful. When she saw Hermione covered in foals, her face grew warm with a smile rather than the strained combination of need for acceptance and desire to scream. Of all the people who deserved a good scream of circumstance, it was probably Mrs Granger. She had to give her child up to a magical world at the age of 11. She had been forced to leave her baby behind and take up a new identity in Australia. Then, she had the strain of being tracked down and told that she really wasn't Mrs Wilkins and her family history was a lie. Finally, as a capstone to the entire affair, just when things were starting to look normal, she had been forced into reconciling with her daughter being a mythical creature out of a Greek mythology book. It was a lot to take in, and somehow the elder centaur had managed to put peace back into Mrs Granger's mind. Hermione hadn't really seen that on her mother's face since before she was accepted into Hogwarts.
As if to punctuate the new situation, Mrs Granger had colts attached to her. They were tugging on her coat as they walked up. Two foals were clinging to Astra, as were expected, but two young colts were affixed to Mrs Granger and chattering on about all manner of exciting things that interested. They showed her things they had collected, each competing for Mrs Granger's attention.
For the first time, Hermione saw something in her mother's gaze and realised that her mother really missed interacting with the young. Her mum had never really said she wanted grandchildren, but Hermione knew from watching her mother interact with the two excited colts that Mrs Granger did. Even better, she seemed perfectly willing to interact with the centaur youth. It was more than Hermione could have hoped. Even if Hermione's transformation turned out to be temporary, her mother was going to be okay with the centaur. What was even better, Hermione saw her mum's eyes flash with life as another small group of curious foals came up to inspect her, touching her, tugging her to join their miniature herd, and sharing their collected leaves, bugs, and shiny baubles.
Astra's hand alighted on Hermione's shoulder. "There now, young Hermione," the elder centaur Seer said. "Is there peace upon your heart now that there is in your dams?"
Hermione felt a surge of emotion rising in her chest and she nodded back, one tear running down her nose.
Astra gave her a warm smile. "Come, walk with me," she nickered, "and we shall discuss some of the things you will need to worry about now that you are with foal."
Hermione's eyes bugged out of her head as her ears flattened against her head.
Astra looked at her with puzzlement and then seemed to realise something. "Well, my dear, better you know now and have us to turn to with questions than in the dead of winter when all of us are scattered to the winds."
Hermione was still frozen in place, gobsmacked.
Astra neighed a call, and all the foals perked up and attended her. "The fish are spawning, younglings, gather your nets. Show your dams how cunning you are."
Excited whickers went around as even the youngest foal soon had a fishing net in his hands. Centaurs were a people prepared at a moment's notice.
By the time they had made it down to the river together, the foals tore off into the river and set upon catching the spawning fish, careful to catch only the ones that were done spawning so that the next generation would not be harmed. The other mares instructed the younger foals how to tell the difference between the fish full of roe and those that were spent.
Now that the foals and other mares were sufficiently occupied, Astra let Hermione off a ways from the river, far enough away from earshot but close enough to watch the goings on in case something happened.
"Now it is your time for questions, my dear," Astra said with a knowing grin. "Do you wish to start with how to excite your mate and keep him guessing or how to prepare for a coming foal?"
Hermione blushed furiously. She could only see Molly Weasley sitting down with Ginny to discuss the birds and the hippogriffs and remember how red Ginny had turned when Molly had gotten down to the point of contraception charms, proper nutrition, and how to handle the monthly bleeds. Whether Molly had told Ginny how to "please her partner" was completely unknown, to which Hermione was grateful, but seeing how prolific the Weasley's were, Hermione could only assume that Weasley females were not oblivious to such things. It had been Ginny, after all, that had tried to give Hermione tips in her love life, which had Hermione running screaming into the library to stick her head into a book on Arithmancy.
By the time the banks were filled with baskets of fish, Hermione's head was full of centaur knowledge from the female side of the species. Her brain, as always, soaked it up like a sponge, but Hermione know it would take a while for her to process it all. Astra gave her a knowing look. "I am sure the stallions are giving your Severus the same conversation, Hermione. They are always eager to exchange knowledge on many things."
Hermione snorted, making a half nicker. She could clearly see Severus' highly embarrassed face in her mind's eye. Suddenly her eyes went very wide. Her mother had spent the day with Astra and the mares… where was her father?
"Your father is with the other stallions of course," Astra answered her mental question with unnerving accuracy, "probably discussing the planets and stars that were in the sky the day you were conceived."
Hermione sputtered. Mr Granger, dentist, was hanging around with a bunch of stallions discussing planets and stars and other… stallion concerns. Merlin's beard—!
Out of the frying into the fire seemed to be the trend with centaurs.
Hermione wondered if she could ever look her father in the face again.
Better yet, she wondered if he could ever look her in the face again.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
After dumping a basket of smoked fish in the Headmistress' Office and making Minerva McGonagall the happiest cat Animagus on the planet, Hermione and Severus had seen Mr and Mrs Granger home through the Floo Network. Both parents seemed far more at ease after the visit, and they promised if Hermione and Severus wished to visit all they had to do was "send one of those flying birds with a message" and they would clear out the garden for them to Apparate in.
Hermione seemed utterly relieved that the situation hadn't gone pear-shaped, and after seeing her father clap Severus over the withers (since his shoulder was a little too high for such things), she let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.
Firenze had managed to pry the foals off Hermione for the night, and the disappointed whickers and sad sounds they made practically made Hermione gallop after them, had Severus not been there to yank her back by the tail.
"Sorry," Hermione apologised later. "Instinct was difficult to suppress."
Severus gave a low snort but seemed to understand, rubbing her mane gently as she calmed herself down. "I feel the same whenever you leave," he admitted with some difficulty. "Anytime you leave," he added with embarrassment.
"Truly?" Hermione replied, her ears perked.
Severus nodded.
"I'm sorry," she apologised, wringing her hands.
Severus snorted. "It is not your fault, Hermione. We both have new instincts and anatomy we are trying to get used to. We can only be fortunate that this didn't happen during the war."
Hermione's eyes grew into saucers. "I can't even… wow."
"Yeah," he agreed. "Shall we go for a walk? I fear we have not had much time alone recently."
Hermione smiled. "I suppose I can clear my schedule."
Severus gave her a look, eyebrow arching into his hair. He placed hand on her cheek, a flicker of pain reflected in his eyes.
Hermione placed her hand over his. "Severus, I will never push you away intentionally. I may joke that I am busy. I may say things that you may think I don't want to spend time with you, but believe me when I say I want to be with you. You, Severus. It's been you for a long time now. Do you believe me?"
Severus swallowed hard. "I'm starting to."
Hermione ran her thumb across his skin. "I need you to believe in me. I need you to believe in us." She guided his hands to her equine sides, staring at him meaningfully.
Severus stared at her, uncomprehendingly.
Hermione snorted and guided his hands to where her human abdomen would be if she were still human. She arched a brow at him.
Severus stared blankly.
Hermione exhaled with amusement and made a tiny, miniature nickering sound.
Severus' eyes flew open, widening to the size of teacup saucers. "Are you… are we… you're sure?"
Hermione pressed her palm to his cheek. "Over twenty mares confirmed it in the most embarrassing ways possible for a centaur who was not a centaur but a year previous."
Severus flushed. "The stallions said the chances… that often they go many years without—" He trailed off, looking flustered.
"You have very potent and determined dna, Severus," Hermione said with a flush.
Severus turned beet red.
Suddenly he fell to the ground, his breath coming in small frantic gasps.
Hermione touched his shoulders. "Severus, are you okay? Do you need to see Poppy?"
Severus clasped her hands together, staring into her eyes with a silence that was heavy.
Hermione looked down into her hands, feeling something pressed there from Severus'. She stared down, confused.
A ring of weathered gold with alternating diamonds and dark blue sapphires lay in her hand. She stared at it.
"Severus… this," Hermione stammered. "This is my great, great, grandmother's engagement ring. It means you…"
"Humbled myself before your father and asked for his daughter's hand," Severus said, his eyes were dark with emotion. "Hermione Granger. I am not perfect. I am flawed, untrusting, quick to anger, and even faster to misunderstand, but I swear to you I will try to be the man or… centaur I want to be for you. Will you have me, Hermione? Will you share your life with a broken man… who loves you… who has loved you for longer than he could step up and admit to?"
Hermione silently stared heirloom of her family. Severus had not only met her family, but he had done what no other suitor had thought to do: ask her father for her hand before asking her. Her father had given his blessing. The evidence was there, sitting in her palm. Her mother had worn it, her mother's mother before that and so on down the line.
Hermione trembled. They had danced around each other for years, sharing time, space, and conversation well into the night. She had been attracted to him for years, yet, he had always adamantly said there was nothing romantic to their relationship. Now, finally he was admitted that he not only felt there was something between them, but he felt it was something that would last. For someone like Severus, it was a big confession. She stared at the ring of her family's matriarchs, wondering how many Grangers had worn it before her.
Severus seemed to think Hermione was having second thoughts or perhaps that he had sprung the question too soon. He turned his head, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pressure you. It was too soon." He began to back-pedal.
Hermione captured his hands, pulling them close to her chest. "No!" she exclaimed.
Severus' ears went flat against his skull, clearing taking her exclamation as rejection. As if to confirm the guess, the moonflower horses hung their heads dejectedly, the petals of the flowers closing as the inner horses withdrew.
"My answer is yes!" Hermione emphasized, She placed her hands against his cheeks and torqued his head around to look her in the face. "Yes, Severus. Yes, Merlin, yes!"
Severus' ears perked forward again. The moonflowers behind his ears opened, the small horse headed flowers peered out from behind his ears like a child playing hiding seek.
With nervous slowness, Severus placed the ring on Hermione's finger, and, as if resized by real magic, it fit perfectly. He stared into her face and slowly covered her mouth with his. Pollen horses nickered and frolicked around their heads. Moonflowers sprouted out of their manes, blooming to expose yet another horse head. Each new flower expelled another pollen horse to frolic with the others.
As Severus pulled away, his dark eyes were like the midnight sky. "I believe you," he said evenly.
Hermione tenderly planted a kiss on his aquiline nose. "I believe in us."
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Hermione knew danger was nearby before she actually saw her. Briarfoot came zooming over the far hill and dove under her body, affixing herself to Hermione to nurse in her panic. Hermione patted the frantic filly as she pawed her fingers through Hermione's mane for reassurance.
Severus and Firenze were on alert the moment they heard and saw Briarfoot's distress. Severus placed himself in front of Hermione with his wand out, and Firenze was beside him, rearing up on his hind legs to kick his legs out forward in readiness to pound something into the dirt with all speed. Firenze had his bow in his hand in a blur of automated movement. Between Severus' burning instinct to "protect his mate" and Firenze's to "protect the female at all cost" mixed with the shared need to "protect the foal," all of them were fit to march into war at a moment's notice.
Hermione shook off her instincts. They were on Hogwart's grounds. The chances of something horrible trying to eat her on the school grounds was not likely or at least not as likely as it would be if Hagrid was nearby with one of his experiments, charity cases, or random three-headed Grecian dogs that should have stayed in the Underworld. Ok, so Hogwart's wasn't perfectly safe, but, at least any potential Death Eater coming in had the chance of running into one of Hagrid's "things" and being tenderised.
No rampaging hippogriff came charging over the hill. A manticore didn't fly over the ridge, and a gorgon didn't cast her stony gaze at them either. Instead, Molly Weasley walked over the ridge, huffing slightly as she trudged towards them. Suddenly Briarfoot's panic made more sense. The last time Briar had seen Molly Weasley had not ended well.
Molly seemed to realise she had committed another unknown sin when she saw Firenze with his bow out, Severus with his wand out, and Hermione with her wand out as she positioned over Briarfoot.
Despite their appearance of looking like a half-horse, centaurs were, by far, far taller than even the tallest of horses. All centaurs were tall enough that their foals could stand and nurse without having to cram themselves into odd positions. This made adult centaurs quite the intimidating figure of protectiveness, and Severus had been intimidating without equine proportions added into the equation. Molly let out a huff of air.
"Hermione," Molly said, waving her hands in front of her in a peace-seeking gesture.
Minerva was hustling towards them from the other ridge. Apparently Molly had made an appointment to see the Headmistress and had decided to detour to see Hermione and Severus. It would have been fine, had Briarfoot not spotted the Weasley matriarch and panicked across the green to get to the "herd" for safety.
Hermione sighed, replacing her wand, and Severus did the same. Firenze seemed more dubious, but he lowered his bow and slung it over his shoulder once more.
Briarfoot whickered nervously, perhaps thinking Molly Weasley really was a Gorgon in disguise. Perhaps, Hermione thought, Briar wouldn't be so wrong in that assumption. Both were dangerous females with notorious tempers and stony gazes with purported fatal results. All you had to do was ask any of the Weasley children for confirmation on that special skill. Fred and George had many stories to tell in that regard.
By the time Molly managed to get close, Hermione was pinned by two male centaur that were still not convinced that violence wasn't the answer to any problem. She could sense the dual instincts running between them because she too had her fair share of them. Chiron may have blessed the centaur with civility, but instincts were instincts—as hard to suppress as one would attempt to stop reflexes.
The feel of Briar hiding between her legs was enough to plant the need to run. It wasn't to flee in fear as much as her priorities were immediately to get the foal out of harm's way. Despite the human logic that told her Molly was a friend, wouldn't intentionally harm her, and wasn't on a mission to have centaur for supper, she made a low utterance. It was the same call mares had used for countless years to summon their foals in times of danger—and it immediately caused Briar to still under her and not bring more attention to herself.
"Hermione," Molly panted as she came to a halt. She had her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. "Please, I came to apologise. I need to apologise."
Each centaur seemed to have the same balance of curiosity and wariness. One ear flicked forward, as one ear flattened back across their head. Minerva was catching up at last, and the expression on her face was apologetic. Hermione relaxed a little, giving a soft nicker as Minerva approached. She bowed her head to the Headmistress. Severus and Firenze mirrored her.
Molly was wringing her hands, a sure sign of her distress. It was one of the genuine tells that spoke of her emotional turmoil. "I'm sorry for what I said. I had no idea you were out there. I thought the Prophet story was just that, a story. The last time I believed anything from the Prophet, I thought you had hurt Harry, Hermione. If anything I've used the Prophet as a gauge of what not to believe."
Molly looked skyward. "When Ron and Lavender came back from speaking with you, they were tight-lipped. Never once did they say you were actually centaurs. If I had known, I would never have made the assumption that Rose was letting out the neighbour's horses in our yard again. Did you know she brought a pony in the house and had it in the bathtub? She tried to hide a horse in Arthur's workshop."
"I apologise," Molly said, bowing her head in shame. "I meant no offense. I intended no insult to you or—"
Briarfoot peered out from under Hermione's body, curiosity outweighing the more primal need to cling. She nickered nervously.
Molly noticed her, and her breath caught in her throat. "Oh, Merlin. Are you Briarfoot? Rose's friend?"
The little filly nodded, taking one more step out from under Hermione. She kept her hand on Hermione's foreleg, needing the comfort of her touch to give her courage in the face of instinct.
Molly's demeanor changed at the sight of Briarfoot clinging to Hermione's leg. "Hello, Briarfoot. My name is Molly Weasley. I'm Rose's grandmother. I'm very sorry for giving you a fright. I was very insulting without meaning to. I never meant to imply you were a horse. I swear it. Can you forgive me?"
The filly nickered, petting Hermione's leg with her hands. Hermione touched the filly's back and rubbed, helping Briar gain her confidence. Briar looked up at her for some signal of what to do. Hermione, Severus, and Firenze nodded to her to make her own choice.
Briar stepped out, slowly coming out from Hermione's larger shadow. She swallowed hard as her hooves danced on the ground. "Did you not see us, standing on the hill?"
Molly shook her head. "I was cooking inside the house. There was much to do, and I fear I wasn't paying as much attention to what was going on outside."
Briar looked dubious. "We always know where our herd is," she replied softly. "Is this not the same for your family?"
Molly let out a huff of air. "Believe you me, if it was possible to know where my sons, daughter, and grandbabies were at all times, I would be a lot less stress in my life." Molly's expression softened. "I'm sorry, Briarfoot. I have a temper about me, and sometimes I let it rule over me when I shouldn't. I did not mean to frighten you or insult you. Will you forgive me?" Molly held out her hands.
Briar looked up at Firenze, and he nickered at her in encouragement.
Slowly, Briar put her hand in Molly's. Her ears were laid back against her head, and her rump was pressed tight against Hermione's, but she made a valiant effort to meet the Weasley matriarch half way.
"May I hug you?" Molly asked.
Briar stomped nervously but nodded. "Okay."
Molly folded her arms around the young filly and rubbed her back as she would a human child, unintentionally soothing Briar's mane in a manner her herd would comfort her.
Briar relaxed into the hug and smiled shyly.
"Will you forgive me, Briarfoot?"
The young filly nickered softly, petting Molly's hair. "I forgive you."
McGonagall let out a sigh of relief, echoed by the three adult centaur.
Molly pulled a miniature basket out from under her shawl and tapped it with her wand to enlarge it. "There are for you, Briarfoot. It's a token of my apology."
Briar's eyes went wide as she stared at the now giant basket of shining apples. She nickered in glee. "For me?"
Molly nodded.
Briar looked at Hermione, Severus, and Firenze for permission, and each of them smiled and nodded to the young filly.
Briar hugged the giant basket. "Thank you!" She plucked out the largest apples and placed them in Firenze, Severus, Hermione, and Minerva's hands. "May I take these to Flint and Meadowrun?"
"Do not gallop in the halls, youngling," Firenze ordered.
Briar plastered her ears back. "I wouldn't!"
"Go then," Severus said with a sniff.
Briar, shyness forgotten over a basket of tasty apples, glomped Molly and galloped up the path to Hogwarts. She pulled herself into a brisk walk as she neared the doors and dove through the main entryway, disappearing out of sight.
"Thank you for apologising to her," Hermione said as she watched Briarfoot disappear. She pressed into Severus and Firenze for comfort of her own.
Molly stood and looked up at Hermione, somewhat daunted by the change in size. Always before, Molly had seemed taller than the "children" no matter what age they were. "I owe you three an apology as well," Molly said. "I am sorry my temper caused his hurt. Had I known it was true, I would have set the picnic on the lawn and not reacted so badly to seeing what I thought were horses on the front porch."
Firenze sniffed, stomping a foot. His hand was rubbing Hermione's mane gently to calm the mare wedged between them. "Misunderstandings were had, Mrs Weasley," he said after a while. "The centaur are familiar with such things. We left quickly to calm our foal, whose experience with humans has been limited to Hogwarts."
Molly sighed with relief. "We're having a family cookout next holiday break. I would be honoured if you would join us again. I promise it will be better than the last."
The three centaur exchanged glances. "Very well, Mrs Weasley," Firenze said after taking some time to ponder the offer.
"Now," McGonagall broke in, putting her hand on her hips. "I believe we were scheduled for a meeting, Molly," the ruffled Animagus said.
Molly looked sheepish. "Sorry, sorry, yes. Thank you."
Minerva shook her head as she escorted Molly Weasley away.
The miniature herd of centaur students came galloping down from Hogwarts, enjoying the basket of apples Molly had brought.
Flint and Meadowrun ran between the adult legs, petting their legs and underbelly as they nickered happily.
Briarfoot whinnied happily, holding out the basket to her elders. "Could you take the rest to our guests from the other herds?" she asked with a soft nicker.
Firenze smiled down at her. "Of course," he replied with a smile. "You do well to remember our guests in the face of such tasty spoils."
Briar beamed at him.
"Come," Firenze said with a toss of his head. "We can take them to our guests together."
The colt and fillies followed Firenze into the woods, leaving Hermione and Severus alone.
Hermione's stomach growled, and Hermione's ears plastered to the side of her head.
"Hungry?" Severus asked, eyebrows raising into his hair.
Hermione looked at him desperately. "Tell me you have stash of oats somewhere."
"Cooked oats?" he asked, "for breakfast cereal?"
Hermione shook her heads. "I'm craving oats. I'm not even sure I care what kind."
Severus eyed Hermione's equine belly.
Hermione's hands were tugging at his collar. "And salted, smoked fish," she said with sudden urgency.
"At the same—?" Severus started to question.
"Yes!" Hermione hissed.
Severus swallowed hard. "Come, let's see what we can find."
Later, at the High Table, multiple heads turned to watch Hermione devouring a giant bowl of oats and smoked fish with the enthusiasm of Ronald Weasley and a pile of sausages.
Professor Lupin chuckled into his hand as he passed Hermione a drink. "I remember with Dora was pregnant with Teddy. It was all I could do to keep her fed with Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Ginger Newts, and Treacle Tarts covered in pepper imps.
Hermione's eyes went wide, swallowing hard as she tried to determine how many of the High Table knew her secret.
Remus took her hand and stroked it tenderly, shaking his head. He pointed to his nose, knowingly. "Have you set a date?" he mouthed silently.
Hermione and Severus shook their heads together.
"Let me know if you plan to elope," Remus said knowingly. "I know of a great little hill in the middle of nowhere. Great view, perfect sunsets, and far away from the eyes of the Daily Prophet."
Hermione nickered lowly. "Thank you, Remus."
Remus winked at her.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Patrol was not so unlike that which Harry complained about in his Auror job, only patrol for the professors of Hogwarts involved the safety of countless swarms of mischievous children rather than law-breaking Dark wizards.
Harry, in combination with Kingsley, had been good enough to insure that the testing of Hermione and Severus' transformation had not been the act of Dark magic. Neither Severus nor Hermione truly believed it was, but it had to go on the record somewhere that no one had done it to them on purpose. Considering it had been Neville that had been the instigator, there was a certain Herbology professor that had been worried that he'd inadvertently used Dark magic on his friend.
Severus, on the other hand, stated during the examination that if anyone could accidentally curse someone by Dark magic into a centaur, it would be Neville Longbottom. He quipped that Neville was far too incompetent in potions to purposely cause a disaster. Blowing things up had been Seamus Finnigan's forté, afterall.
As Hermione walked down the emptying hallways, she ushered the younger and often lost first years to their dorms. Stairways, playful and mischievous as always, liked to place people in places they shouldn't be. Cranky portraits liked to give false directions, and children running away from Argus Filch always seemed to end up tangled in the tapestries on the 3rd floor. Thanks to her new ears, Hermione was very hard to avoid, and many of the students seemed to think she could arrive at anywhere in the school at a moment's notice.
Hermione's reputation as a tracker in Hogwarts was matched only by Severus, whose previous ability to catch lollygaggers and miscreants as a human had been practically supernatural to begin with. That talent alone probably fed the rumour that he was a vampire or at least a bat Animagus. She found it ironic that Severus was the furthest thing from a bat in his Animagus form, and now that he was a centaur, he seemed to have far better public relations. Now, instead of scoffing talk about how evil he was sacrificing children to the Dark Lord in his cauldrons, whispers filled the halls on how sexy he was.
Severus' response to this had been expected. He flattened his ears against his head, grit his teeth, and started taking points when people breathed at him wrong. It didn't help. Young teenage girls seemed to think that even more attractive.
"Should I be jealous, Severus?" Hermione had asked as they patrolled the halls together.
Severus had growled. "You have nothing to be jealous about."
"Countless young teenagers lusting after your fine proportions?" Hermione had suggested.
"Countless young teenagers are not you," he had snapped, pinning his ears back.
Hermione had laughed, her bell-like laughter filling the halls of Hogwarts.
Hermione's ears perked, her musings brought to the present by the sound of quiet sobbing up the North Tower. Somewhere up the Divination Stairwell, a child was crying, and the Divination Stairwell was not exactly welcoming for the bulk of a centaur. There were many on staff who believed Sybill Trelawney preferred it this way. Her rivalry with Firenze over traditional divination versus centaur divination was well known. Whether Sybill, herself, actually had a bigotry against centaur remained to be seen. She locked herself away in the North Tower like Rapunzel waiting for her prince, hiding behind her crystal balls, thick glasses, vague predictions of death, doom, and gastric distress.
Firenze and Severus had been adamant that no matter how insignificant a thing she wanted to check up on during patrol that she should send a Patronus to either or both of them. Both stallions were barely able to let her patrol alone, and it was only this stipulation that managed to get Hermione out the door without having both of them glued to her flanks.
Sighing, she sent a Patronus to Severus telling him that she was going to cram her way up the Divination stairway looking for a crying child, just in case she got stuck on the stairs. If anything, that was more of a concern than anything else.
It was past 10 in the evening, so a part of Hermione wondered why a child would choose this particular stairwell for crying on. There were so many more easily accessible crying places, if one were to pick one. Maybe a student took one of Trelawney's horrible doom prophecies seriously.
Hermione eyed the small doorway that led to the stairwell and frowned. There was no way in Hades she was going to fit through that door. Sighing, she turned into her otter form with a squeak and proceeded to bounce up the stairs in haste towards the sound of the crying.
She didn't make it but halfway up the stairs when Hermione froze in place. Her ears perked. Far more used to paying attention to small sounds, subtle whickers, and soft fluxes in tone, she realised the sound of the crying hadn't changed. There wasn't a human alive that cried the same for an extended period of time. She looked up the stairwell, her otter whiskers perked forward as her nose worked.
She hunkered down in the shadows, listening and scenting.
The child crying was an instinctual draw. It was natural to want to rush in and comfort the young, now more than ever, but her senses were telling her something was off. As much as she wanted to press forward, call out into the darkness, something told her to be quiet and still herself against the walls of the stairwell.
She looked at the painting of nymphs that normally hung at the midpoint of the stairs. The normally happy sprites were holding their hands out in front them like Muggle crossing guards, waving her to stop. They looked frantically up towards the top of the tower, shaking their head back and forth in distinctive warning.
Something was wrong, and she realised what it was. The crying had stopped. There were no sniffles. There were none of the tell-tale sounds that came after having a really long cry. Hermione was no stranger to crying.
Hermione backed up, slowly easing her way down the stairs, little by little, keeping her eyes, nose, and ears tuned for the slightest movement. Fully alarmed, Hermione silently and wandlessly summoned her Patronus, knowing the moment it appeared it would expose her position if someone was looking for her in the dark of the stairs. She had to risk sending the Patronus. If there was something there and she didn't make it to the bottom, there was a good chance no one would know she was even in trouble until hours later.
She sucked in her breath, released her Patronus, and ran down the stairs as fast as her webbed feet allowed.
There was a flash of magic in the dark. She could feel it following her, and she knew in that moment no disillusionment spell would help her. He fur was on end as and tore a path down the stairs, zig-zagging in an attempt to avoid whatever spell was making its way towards her. She had just made it to the doorway and dove through it, sliding her belly across the stone flagstones as her paws scrambled for purchase to pull her down the corridor.
Pain tore through her.
Her body was slashed. Blood was gushing from her body, but she knew she couldn't stop. She made the decision to stay in her otter form, despite how much slower it was compared to a fully galloping centaur. Centaurs were huge targets. Otters, on the other hand, were annoyingly hard to catch. If she could just keep enough blood inside her to fuel her run down the hallway—
Stone and bits rained down on her from above. The damaging spell sliced into the stone like butter, causing it to fall on her. Privately saying prayers of thanks that the walls of Hogwarts had taken one for the team, she mentally reminded herself to hug Hogwarts at a future point. Hugging the floor as she scrambled across it didn't count.
Her body was aching. She felt dizzy.
Blood loss.
Her heart was beating wildly, trying to pump what little blood she had to her limbs, but all it did was pump even more of her blood out the wounds she had. She was losing her battle. Rivulets of red, green, and silver made her fur slick. Tendrils were emerging from her open gashes and slithering together, knitting her wounds together, but she didn't notice.
Run.
Run faster.
Her lungs burned. Her body ached.
Keep running.
She squeaked in terror as hands grasped her body.
"Hermione!" Severus' voice broke through her panic.
Mate. Safe. Safe! Herd. Safe!
Firenze bellowed in pain as a spell connected to him. Hermione smelled blood, Firenze's blood, and saw the gash on his side.
The sound of hooves clattering on the flagstones met with the telltale sound of a bow being pulled back and an arrow leaving the string.
There was a bellow and the sound of ripping cloth, and more hoofbeats. Minerva's voice pierced the commotion, and light flooded the hallway corridors with the intensity of the sun.
Severus was casting spells in rapid succession.
Someone or something tore away from where Firenze's arrow pinned it to the wall, fleeing down the halls.
"Portraits, awake!" Minerva yelled. "Tell me where that THING goes!"
"Yes, Headmistress!" rang the voices of many portraits.
"Severus, take her to Poppy!" Minerva's voice ordered, brokering no refusal. "Go!"
Hermione felt herself being carried away, but the warmth of Severus' arms was all she needed to know. Her eyes drifted close at last.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Minerva McGonagall was ready to set things on fire. One of her professors had been attacked in the halls of Hogwarts, and the trail had gone cold. She reached the Divination Stairwell and the trail went cold. The sole portrait in the stairwell was full of gesticulating nymphs and dryads, pointing silently towards the top of the tower. The trail of blood, however, had mysteriously disappeared, almost as if someone had used a Scourgify on the hallways.
Minerva knew better than to think the blood had never been shed. She had seen Hermione's body as Severus had carried her off to the hospital wing. There had been far more blood lost than one fleeing otter should have had, so it was miracle she was still alive. Minerva had faith, however, that if anyone could survive near fatal amounts of damage, it would be either Hermione or Severus. Severus had already proven it once. Hermione was just the type not to let blood loss get in the way of survival.
Minerva busted into Sybill Trelawney's private chambers using her Headmistress's chain of authorisation spells that took about two minutes just to say, even in rapid succession. Hogwarts seemed to realise that she was extra needy at that moment, and the door opened without further authorisation.
Minerva climbed up the trapdoor that led into the classroom, summoning a mage light to follow her. Filius Flitwick had arrived below her, and he huffed as he climbed the ladder into the classroom.
"Such an annoying classroom," Flitwick huffed. "I got your Patronus, Minerva. How can I help?"
Minerva gestured to the classroom.
Flitwick charmed a few hovering lamps to fill the room with light. The room had an odd tea shoppe feel to it. Crystal balls were strewn about, but some of them had been thrown to the floor by some unseen force. Tins of tea were thrown around, leaving a trail of odd tea leaves on the floor.
Flitwick frowned as he exchanged glances with Minerva. The swath of destruction led to an open window. One window was completely torn off the hinges as the curtain dangled outside the window.
Minerva looked out the window into the darkness outside.
Flitwick nudged her.
Minerva looked to where he was pointing. Strange hoofprints were cast into the tea trail, but there was something off about them. She couldn't quite place why. They were not quite hoofprints from a note quite something.
She and Flitwick worked their way over to Trelawney's actual chambers connected to the classroom. She knocked on the door. "Sybill? Sybill, dear, are you alright?"
Whether the door was already open or if Hogwarts figured she needed in, Minerva wasn't sure, but the door creaked open, and she and Flitwick moved into the room.
"Sybill, are you okay?" Minerva asked into the dark.
Flitwick waved his wand, and all the candles in the room lit, casting the room in an orange glow.
Sybill was under a pile of duvets, her glasses still stuck to her face as drool came out of the corner of her mouth. She was snoring fitfully and snorted like a pig as she woke.
"Wha—" the Divination professor mumbled. "Is it time for breakfast already? I'm sure someone is going to choke on their oatmeal. Death, you know. Death everywhere."
Minerva let out a soft sigh and shook her head.
Trelawney was fine, well, as fine as Sybill Trelawney ever was.
"Go back to sleep, dear," Minerva tutted, pulling the duvet on the top over the groggy Divination professor.
"What's going on, Minerva?" Flitwick asked as they climbed back down the ladder to the Divination classroom.
"Hermione was attacked," McGonagall answered grimly. "Here, on these stairs."
"Will you be calling in the Aurors, Minerva?" Flitwick asked, adjusting his glasses that were trying to fly off his face.
"Already done," Harry Potter answered from below them. He peered up the stairwell as Ronald Weasley and two other unknown Aurors flanked him.
"Mr Potter," Minerva sighed. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."
"It's not a problem, Headmistress McGonagall," Harry said with a curt smile. "Thank you for giving us that floo to port into."
Minerva shook her head. "I wish we didn't need it, but Professor Granger was attacked tonight. Here on this stairwell. The portraits led me here, but whatever or whoever it was, seems to have found a way into the tower and escaped out the window."
"Hermione?" Ronald exclaimed. "Is she okay?"
Harry raised his hand to shush him. "I will have Collins and Ramford investigate the halls, Headmistress. Ron, you should run the traces through the tower. I'll go interview Hermione, if she is well enough."
Minerva nodded grimly.
"Come on, mate," Ron protested. "You're better at traces than me. I can go interview 'Mione."
Harry turned his head to look at Ron. "Ron, it won't just be Hermione. Snape and Firenze are going to be there, and they are probably going to be super protective. Do you really want to go there right now?"
Ron turned a little pale at the mention of a protective Snape and Firenze. His past experiences with centaurs had not be overly stellar. Ron waved him off. "I got it."
Ron pulled out his wand and got to work. Collins and Ramford paired off to work the halls.
Harry, bowing his head to McGonagall and Flitwick, followed the two professors to the Hospital Wing—the place that always seemed to have either Harry, Ron, or Hermione in one of the beds at every given year.
Somethings, he decided, would never change, even when he had a job far from Hogwarts. Hogwarts always drew him back.
One way… or another.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Harry sat down in a nearby chair as he watched over Hermione. She was sprawled against Severus, who had tucked himself against her. Firenze was nearby as well.
No longer in her otter form, deep gashes were slashed across her honey-coloured fur both across her belly and her legs. Severus was holding a potion to her mouth, helping her sip it slowly. Firenze was gently stroking Hermione's back to calm her, and Hermione was snuggled between them as her breaths were slowly coming down to a regular respiration rate.
Poppy was rubbing ointment in her gashes, but what was the most fascinating were the wounds themselves. Each of her gashes were healing as he watched. Small tendrils, like vines, were weaving with each other and tightening, pulling together Hermione's wounds. Pollen horses were walking across her skin, snuffling at her wounds. Her skin was aglow with vine and leaf patterns in shimmering silver and green. The moonflowers were nickering softly, lulling Hermione into a sort of healing trance.
"She's going to be fine, Severus," Poppy said, touching his shoulder. "Whatever it is that made you this way seems to want to keep you healthy too."
The black centaur furrowed his brows, but he nodded to her. He watched the wounds healing in front of him, and it seemed to help calm him as well.
Soft, nervous nickering came from the door, and three young centaur peered into the hospital wing. Harry had to smile. They were so much like Hermione, Ron, and he had been in their youth. Minerva seemed to make an exception for these children, much as Poppy had given up on trying to keep Hermione, Ron, and himself from visiting each other in the Infirmary.
Flint, Meadowrun, and Briarfoot trotted over and flopped up against their herdmates, leading into them for comfort and to provide comfort to them. Harry found it interesting that Snape didn't protest the young centaur joining the pile, even when they leaned up against Hermione. The young colt and filly carefully tucked themselves around her, touching her skin but avoiding her wounds.
Snape was rubbing Hermione's neck absently with his fingers, gently tugging her head under his chin. Hermione's eyes were half closed. Her tail swished lazily back and forth. It unnerved him somewhat to see Snape so at ease and close to Hermione, but he knew that it was his personal hangup more than not knowing Hermione was close to his old Potions professor. Hermione and Snape had been colleagues for far longer than they had been teacher and student. They had been close a long time. This newer, more open closeness, even if it had been brought on by a strange and magical transformation, was undoubtedly bringing Hermione peace of mind. She deserved that, at the very least.
She was healing, and she was calm. It made Harry feel better to know she was going to be okay. Questions could wait until her wounds had healed.
Firenze gave a startled snort. He touched his side where one of the spells had slashed into his chest. Some of Hermione's blood, distinctively silver, green, and red, had smeared onto him. As Harry watched, his Auror curiosity peaked, one of the pollen horses danced around Firenze's skin from Hermione's and then slammed into his wound, blending with her blood that was seeping into his damaged skin.
Firenze patted his skin, his brows furrowing. "It's gone," he said with wonder. "The wound is gone."
Snape turned his head to look, his brows furrowing.
"Chiron's blessing," Firenze sighed with something akin to joy and relief. "Everything is going to be fine, brother."
Harry watched as a tangible relief seemed to settle over the centaur, and with both Firenze and Snape feeling relaxed, the three young centaur snuggled in closer and closed their eyes. Pollen horses pranced across Hermione's skin, and the pale white flowers bobbed their heads in the evening breeze.
"Harry," Hermione greeted him, voice half-laden with drowsiness.
"Hey, Hermione," Harry replied warmly. "If you wanted me to visit, you could have just sent me an owl."
Hermione smiled at him serenely. "And break decades of Hogwarts tradition?" she said with a grin. "Never!"
Hermione extended her hand out to him, and Harry approached, sitting on the cushion next to her as he placed his hands in hers. The warmth of her smile transferred through the warmth of her hands. "I can always count on you to be there to root out trouble," she trailed off, her eyes closing. Her hands remained around his.
Harry felt eyes upon him. Snape's dark eyes bored into him as if evaluating his soul for the Afterlife. Then, suddenly, the centaur stallion simply closed his eyes, pressing his nose into Hermione's mane. Judgment made, Harry realised he was a evaluated to be safe enough to sleep around. It was, he supposed, a high compliment coming for someone like Snape.
One of the moonflowers in Hermione's hair snuffled Harry's face and then sneezed pollen over him, coating his face and black hair with yellow granules.
Harry sighed. He supposed he couldn't have Snape accept his presence and be treated well by magical foliage in the same night. That would have been… unnatural.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
A/N: Hrm… what or whom do you think caused the drama, do you think? Heh. heh. heh.