Mischief Managed Chapter 2: Quetzalcoatl What, a Harry Potter + Thor Crossover fanfic

A/N: Every fic I write seems to include a little crack. Sorry. Not sorry. I had to manually insert the HR thanks to trying to publish via tablet via android. (I could not copy paste in Android.) This is proof that full computers still have more love.

[Summary]: [Hermione/Loki] Loki has been kicked out of Ásgarðr for bad behaviour. Odin thinks his frost giant heritage is to blame. But is it really? [AU/NC/EWE] (Not even trying for canon, sorry!)

Beta Love: The Dragon and the Loki (cough, I mean Rose), Dutchgirl01, and the Flyby Commander Shepard

Warnings: M for delicate sensibilities

Disclaimer: I don't don't own the characters. I just play in the sandbox.

Mischief Managed

Chapter 2: Quetzalcoatl What?

The most important thing is this: to be ready at any moment to sacrifice what you are for what you could become. - Charles Dickens

Hermione opened her eyes to find Rith and Grim snuggled up to her face— and the smaller purple book with white spots gave her her a tender lick on the nose.

"Someone needs a name," Hermione mumbled.

PurrrRRrrRRRRRR.

"I'm pants at names," Hermione told the little book as she snuggled her bookish pileup.

"Violet," a deep, sleepy voice rumbled against her body as an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her close.

The little book bounced up and down happily, gave Loki a lick, and then bounced away with Rith and Grim as they chased each other around the bedroom to somewhere else in the temple.

"Wonderful, I have book paste on my face," Loki murmured into her skin. He rubbed his face against her back.

Hermione mumbled. "Now I have book paste on my back."

"That's not the only thing you have on your back," Loki purred, his body pressing against hers as his mouth deftly attached itself to her neck like a hungry lamprey.

Hermione spasmed, a surge of pure pleasure going from the mark of his teeth down to her toes. "Nnnnggaah!" she gasped.

Deft blue hands roamed across her body under the duvet, and Hermione let out a soft whimper that caused him to tighten around her. He snuffled her hair, taking in the delicious scent of her skin under her hair.

"You have feathers in your mane," Loki whispered in her ear.

"Wha?" Startled, Hermione reached up to feel her hair. Sure enough, her hair had been infested with brilliantly-coloured feathers.

"You're so beautiful," Loki murmured softly as he sat up.

Hermione's expression softened and she touched his cheek. "You're still my Handsome, quirky, colour-changing book."

Loki purred, wrapping his arms around her as the duvet fell away.

"Eeagh! Cold!" Hermione shivered as the draft caught her skin. She froze as the scent of cooking eggs and sausage wafted in from somewhere in the temple. "Oh Merlin!" She flung herself out of bed, diving into the bathroom as she threw Loki his shirt, pants, trousers, and bits of armour. "Dad is home!"

Loki had the wherewithal to blush a deep shade of purple as he magicked the clothes back onto himself.

Pop!

Handsome quickly hid under the duvet, pulling the end of the covers up and over himself.

Handsome peered around the door as Hermione glided out to meet her father. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head to his shoulder. "Good morning, father."

"Good morning, daughter," Severus greeted, brandishing his cooking flipper. "I wasn't sure what a proper post-magical mating-marriage bond breakfast was supposed to be, so I decided I'd start with eggs and sausage, potatoes, and orange juice."

Hermione stared at him.

"Old," Severus said pointedly. "Not an imbecile."

Handsome rustle-bounced to hide among the other books on the shelf.

"So, do I get to meet your mysterious moon-lover, or do I have to tell everyone my daughter married a part of her library?"

Hermione coughed as she drank her juice. "I think he's, um… a little shy."

"Not from the stories I heard last night, my dear daughter," Severus quipped, handing her a plate of fry up with an amusedly arched brow. "The goblins are more than excited about the development. Already taking bets on how many eggs and what colours the babies will be."

Hermione choked on her juice and slammed her fist into her sternum. "What?"

"Unless you would like your eggs scrambled, I would prefer if you at least told me how you liked your eggs," Severus said toward the bookshelf. "Or I could feed Grim and Rith your breakfast. I'm sure they wouldn't mind that at all."

Upon hearing their names, the two books bounced off the shelf, promptly dislodging Handsome. Violet bounced off Handsome's cover and followed Grim and Rith as they bounced up to seek attention from Severus.

"Hey, hey, now," Severus chided the books. "Where are your manners, you lot?"

The books whined, and sat on their spines, looking hopefully up at him.

Severus eyed them, but they didn't move, just watched him intently.

Finally, he tossed three sausages in the air.

SNAP!

Boing-SNAP!

Chomp!

The books rubbed up against Severus' ankle and bounced off to another part of the temple.

"Books that eat sausages," Severus said with a sigh. "Normality just took a screaming detour straight down into the utterly bizarre. By the way, Minerva sent you a chocolate bar, but I think one of your Nifflers stole it."

"They aren't my Nifflers!" Hermione protested.

"Well they definitely aren't listening to anyone BUT you, daughter," Severus said with a snort. "Besides, they adore using your hair as a launching pad for their ninja skills. The new feathers really suit you, by the way."

"Wh— oh." Hermione touched her feathered hair. "Apparently, they just showed up this morning.

A Niffler tore across the floor, closely followed by a determined Violet in hot pursuit. The chased Niffler finally dropped the candy bar it was holding, and Violet snatched it up, bounced over to Hermione, and lay the offering at her feet. Violet purred, rubbing up against her leg, and shuffled off again.

Hermione picked up the abused chocolate bar. "Found it," she said sheepishly.

"So, do I get to blame your suitor for everything or just the Nifflers?"

Hermione flushed. "Not everything," she protested feebly.

"So just the Nifflers then?"

Loki stood in Handsome's place, rubbing his disheveled hair somewhat nervously. "That may have been me."

"Ah, so he finally speaks. Good to know you are not some myth or a mere hallucination," Severus said, shoving a steaming plate into his hands. "You get scrambled because you took too long."

Loki smiled a little sheepishly. "Thank you." He sat down at the table and looked for a fork. A tiny book bounced up and down, a fork clenched between its pages. It had a suspiciously familiar coat of bright purple fur, but golden spots, which were, interestingly, in Rith's colour. He accepted the fork. "Thank you, little one."

PurrRRrRrrrr!

The tiny book bounced off the table and landed on the floor with a rather adorable squeak and then bounced off towards the bookshelf.

"Father?"

"Yes, daughter?"

"Can magically animated, sentient books… breed?"

Severus' eyes bored into Loki. "Can I blame him for that too?"

Loki attempted to become one with the temple floor, with rather limited success.

Harry was buried alive in tiny fuzzy booklets.

PurrrRRRRrrRRrrrr.

Crookshanks was sleeping on top of the pile, his tail lazily twitching in feline amusement.

Theo tickled one of the fuzzy booklets and it gummed his fingertips and drooled book paste on him. "I totally want one of my own."

The booklets perked— all the colours of the rainbow— staring up at him hopefully, as if waiting for him to take his pick.

"Now you've gone and done it," Draco said, grinning from ear-to-ear.

Violet, Rith, and Grim were looking mightily satisfied over on the bookshelf.

"Um, so, did your books just attack a cart full of notebooks or did they actually find a way to—" Draco rubbed a booklet on the chin and it drooled and licked him happily. "Aww," he cooed and cuddled it to himself.

Hermione gave her books a sidelong glance.

"I think the miracles of the modern age should remain mysteries," Hermione mused.

Theo now had an entire line of books encroaching on his personal space.

"Better choose soon, Theo," Draco advised, smirking. "You'll end up like poor Harry over there.

Harry twisted his hand in mid-air (the only part of him still visible under the virtual dogpile of cooing, snuggling books) to favour Draco with the two finger salute.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, giggling helplessly at the strangely adorable sight.

"Yeah, and I'm definitely not cold anymore," Harry said a bit sheepishly. "I'm just trying to figure out why the books seemed to hate Ron and Ginny so much. They seem like really happy furry critters to me. Soothing, even. Like those tribble things on that sci-fi TV show? Sirius made us watch the whole series— Star Trek?"

The books cooed pleasantly.

Hermione patted a few of the books affectionately on the cover. "Not bibliophiles, I guess."

A door creaking open caused the trio to look up, and Severus swept in, his black robes blotting out the light from the outside as surely as it did in the classroom.

"Merlin, I'm having flashbacks to my classroom. Is Mr Longbottom hiding somewhere ready to blow up a cauldron in some utterly random act of wanton stupidity?"

"Father, that's not nice."

"I'm not nice, I'll have you remember, daughter."

"Ffft."

"Language, daughter."

Hermione crossed her arms and pouted slightly. "Yes, father."

"Hnn," Severus said crossing the room. Hermione got up and wrapped her arms around him in a hug, and the annoyed expression on her father's face softened as he embraced her.

Loki moved in quietly behind like the shadow of a shadow, suddenly appearing beside Hermione as he slid by her. The boys, almost hypnotised, couldn't help but feel their breath catching in their throats as he did so. Like a ritual dance, he brushed up against her, turning his head to the side and back, to the side and back again. Their eyes met, heads just missing each other as their skin took on a beautiful, shimmering glow.

Loki's skin lost its pale, human colour. His eyes glowed a vibrant ruby as he kept his eyes fastened on hers. Hermione hummed in response, her eyes glowing a bright, brilliant gold. They moved back and forth, rocking back with a sway and then forward, almost touching.

The boys started to sway in rhythm, their eyes glazing over.

Loki dipped his head, then Hermione mirrored the action. Their shoulders moved from side to side, their heads following with a slow drag. Loki gave a slow, lazy blink, and Hermione closed her eyes, slowly sliding her cheek like a cat against his. There was a glisten of scales as she rubbed against him, and his tongue flicked out to taste the air, and hers moved out to move against his face.

"Hnnnnnnnnn," Hermione sang.

"Nnnnnnnnnh," Loki replied.

Their bodies flew out of the room through the open door in a flurry of brilliant scales and feathers, with only the feathered tail as the last clue that the two Quetzalcoatls had other things in mind. Hermione's voice sang out over the temple, joined with Loki's. Gold and cobalt scales moved over the face of the temple, blocking all the exits and windows as a resounding hissing purr rumbled through the stone.

Severus waved his hands in front of the swaying young wizards. They all stared dreamily into space with blissed-out looks on their faces.

"So beautiful," they slurred in unison, drooling slightly.

Severus pinched his nose. "Bloody amateurs."

Severus opened his eyes and thought for a moment, a rather sly look spreading across his face. "I can definitely work with this."

"Anything you want," the boys chimed together.

Severus smiled.

Hours later, when a smug looking Loki came back in with a satisfied Hermione on his arm they stopped to see a rather strange scene in front of them.

Harry was juggling multiple booklets, all of which were squeaking in obvious happiness. Draco was organising all of Severus' potion ingredients by size and alphabetical order, and Theo had apparently built an impressive miniature-scale Hogwarts out of old Daily Prophets complete with a fully-articulated giant squid and Fang chasing garden gnomes out on the green.

"Father?" Hermione questioned.

Severus turned, arching a brow. "Welcome home, daughter."

Loki poked Theo squarely on the nose, who didn't even seem to notice.

"What happened to them?"

Severus gave a gallant shrug. "They stared upon the shifting forms of a mated pair of Quetzalcoatls. It'll probably wear off in a few hours."

"They're so beautiful, Hermione," Luna cooed. "May I touch them?"

Hermione lowered her feathered head, her tongue flicking out to taste the air in front of the blonde witch. "Hnnn."

Luna placed her hands on the shining shells, and magic thrummed from inside, responding to Luna's touch. Hermione nudged one. "Hnnnnnnnnnnn."

Loki's deep azure cerulean head dipped down. "Nnnnnnnnnh!"

The clutch of eggs thrummed and sang back as one.

"Amazing!" Luna said. Her face lit up with wonder. She moved the moss back around the glistening eggs. "You must be so proud."

Hermione's head swayed, her neck entwining lovingly with Loki's. "Hnnn?"

"Oh, I'd love a drink," Luna said. "Have you tried cucumber mint tea? Daddy says it's good for cooling down on hot days."

Hermione's scales rippled, her feathered crest rising.

"No? I'll have to bring some," Luna said. "Regular tea would be fine though. Did you know one of your Nifflers has a fondness for waffles?"

"Luna, dear, there you are," Xenophilius called from the lower platform. "I would like some time to ask some question too, dear daughter."

"Sorry, Daddy," Luna said sweetly. "The eggs were itching. Singing makes them feel better."

"Oh, well that's alright then," Xenophilius said with a smile.

Luna jumped over the edge of the nest and slid down the side of the temple, landing neatly on her feet on the platform balcony below. "See you on the inside, you two!"

The gold and blue Quetzalcoatls just stared at each other and seemed to give a serpentine shrug. Hermione nosed more moss around the eggs, singing to them sweetly as Loki did the same. The eggs thrummed, singing back to their parents. They nosed more soft moss and protective vines over the eggs, letting the sun heat them and later the moon to cool them. A pair of Nifflers popped out of the moss and deposited a large pile of treasure around the nest and then disappeared.

Loki hiss-laughed, nuzzling his mate as she shook her head in bemusement. Hermione slithered down the temple sides and shrank down in side, landing on the balcony in human form. Loki joined her, putting his arm around her as they walked in together.

Quetzalcoatl Soon To Be Lottals

In an exclusive interview with the mated pair of Quetzalcoatls who have recently taken up residence courtesy of the goblin nation in Gringott's London, I have the great pleasure of bringing you the information that everyone has been clamoring for.

Xenophilius: So, Mister and Mrs—

Loki: I chose to take my lady wife's name to honour her father.

Xenophilius: So Granger-Snape, then?

Hermione and Loki: Yes.

Xenophilius: Loki is quite an interesting name. The Norse God of Mischief. Do you feel that you live up to that name?

Hermione: He certainly tries.

Loki: Sometimes I even succeed.

Xenophilius: So Quetzalcoatls. How long have you both known?

Hermione: I've dreamed of them since I was a little girl.

Loki: I fear I was quite oblivious of my true nature until I first heard her sing, heard her calling out to me.

Xenophilius: She sings?

Loki: Oh— yes. Beautifully.

Xenophilius: What did that feel like to you?

Loki: Like the first glorious rays of sun shining down upon a glacier that has known only the night since time immemorial.

Xenophilius: And what does his song make you feel like, Hermione?

Hermione: Blessed completion. Like I've found the piece of my soul that I've been missing from the moment I was born.

Xenophilius: Amazing. So, is it true?

Hermione: Is what true, exactly? There are a great many rumours.

Xenophilius: You are the sun and he the moon.

Hermione: Well, the sun is still out there, and so it the moon, so I think we are safe.

Xenophilius: I mean, are you actually a pair of solar and lunar Quetzalcoatls?

Loki: All signs point to that, so I would have to say yes.

Xenophilius: Legends say that the pair will bring the winds, rain, and sun and make even the most barren land paradise. Do you believe it?

Hermione: I have my own piece of paradise on Earth.

Xenophilius: Loki?

Loki: My paradise is with my mate.

Xenophilius: I have heard that the Castelobruxo, the premier Brazilian school of magic, has sent representatives to Britain to bless your pairing. Is this true?

Loki: They were most courteous and encouraging. I believe there is some hope that they might make a pilgrimage to cast certain old magic rituals that have not been possible, without a mated pair of our kind, in a great many centuries.

Xenophilius: Do you support this?

Hermione: The goblins are more than willing to negotiate with Castelobruxo, and I find that I am quite appreciative of their thoughtfulness and consideration.

Xenophilius: If you don't mind the question, what would you say is the current state of affairs between yourselves and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

Hermione: I fear that all official communication has broken down between us. Since I was forced to leave Hogwarts, and to be fair, I did not have a job there to justify my continued residence there, save for the fact that I had yet to complete my seventh year with the rest of my year mates. However, had I not been unjustly pressured into completing my mastership by the Animagus Registry's shadow laws, which were put into place by former Minister Fudge and Secretary Umbridge, I would have remained living on the premises until the end of term. Originally, Headmaster Dumbledore had given his approval for my staying on there indefinitely, as my father teaches there and, as such, that is his primary residence, but the Board of Governors voted against my staying due to a number of rules that I was not previously made aware of.

Xenophilius: Do you feel any lingering anger towards them for their actions?

Hermione: No. I have my mate and a truly amazing place to live. The goblins are a generous and wonderful people, and I am very happy that they have been so kind as to make accommodation for us and our growing family.

Xenophilius: If I may ask, what are you currently doing for employment? There are those out there who choose to claim that you are merely living off the kindness of others.

Loki: What are their names, Mr Lovegood?

Xenophilius: Xeno, please. Ahem. I fear that it is not my place to say.

Loki: It is foolish for people to simply assume that, in choosing to make our home with a people known for both their frugality and their reputation as masters of investment, some of those remarkable qualities would not inspire and motivate us as well.

Hermione: My father and I own and operate a rather lucrative potions business with contracts that more than cover our living expenses. We work together during the holidays, and my husband and I have taken to handling the rest whenever he is busy teaching.

Xenophilius: There are rumours about which suggest that you may have cursed some of your former classmates from Hogwarts. Is there any truth to such talk?

Hermione: I swear to you on my wand and my magic that I am not responsible for any and all curses or other maladies which may be afflicting any of my former classmates. So mote it be. Lumos. [Madam Granger-Snape's wand flashed brightly in confirmation of her oath.]

Xenophilius: Well, that clears that up quite efficiently! Is it true that just one shard of a shell from a Quetzalcoatl hatchling would command a king's ransom?

Hermione: I wouldn't know. I haven't bothered to investigate the market with regard to such things.

Xenophilius: Any truth to your amassing a great army of thralls to take over the world?

Hermione: [Madam Granger-Snape coughs up her tea] What?

Loki: Why, feeling like joining our army?

Xenophilius: [laughs] Thank you for kindly entertaining our questions today.

Hermione: You are quite welcome.

Ronald Weasley Reported Missing

Ronald Bilius Weasley was just reported missing by both his parents and his brothers Fred and George, proprietors of the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes joke shop located in Diagon Alley, which is where Ronald was working at the time of his disappearance. Ron has been working at his brother's shop since graduation, and he failed to show up at work last week.

A search of Ronald Weasley's London flat revealed no sign of foul play other than an extremely dirty and disheveled bedroom filled with a multiple piles of assorted rubbish and containing a shockingly violent and highly destructive enchanted book entitled 'Multiple Bludgers to the Head'. The book, according to the corresponding Aurors' report, attempted to attack anyone and anything it came in contact with and had to be repeatedly stunned before being secured in warded chains and sent off to the DoM to be analysed for any lingering sign of curses and/or Dark magic.

Found amongst the piles of destruction were the remains of three books bearing the Hogwarts stamp that, it is assumed, were either borrowed or stolen from the school library. Other than some odd transfiguration that made the remains of the books seem like they might've been covered in some sort of fur, the Aurors could only make out the Hogwart's stamp on the inner covers of two books and the partially stabbed cover illustration of a book that had a badly-burned cauldron on it. All the other pages appeared to have been systematically burnt to ash.

Both Fred and George Weasley adamantly deny accusations that they pranked their youngest brother into running away.

"Merlin knows we tried to do so for years. It didn't work then, so why would it suddenly work now, yeah?" the twins told our reporter in unison.

"He's been a foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, sodding git for months," Fred explained. "And he wasn't all that much better before that."

"We'd have fired him ages ago if we thought our mum wouldn't have had a coronary on the spot," George agreed.

Anyone who believes they may have seen or perhaps heard from Ronald Weasley recently should immediately contact Auror Alastor Moody at the DMLE either in person or via owl.

Ginny itched her skin. Oddly, It felt too… tight. She'd tried showering and moisturising often but that was doing absolutely nothing for her. Now she found herself restlessly roaming the halls of Hogwarts. The discomfort seemed to come and go each month, yet it kept on growing stronger and more annoying each time it returned. It was strong enough now that it had her trying to itch her skin off and drove her to roam the halls desperately looking for any form of relief there could be had.

Madam Pomfrey had kindly offered to send her round to St Mungo's for a thorough exam, but Ginny hadn't wanted to go there for a mere troublesome itch. Even a bloody maddening itch. Pomfrey had been quite worried that she was coming down with some insidious sort of pox, but all the tests she performed kept coming back negative.

She avoided all of the patrolling prefects and staff members with ease. She knew exactly where Mr Filch always checked for post-curfew snoggers and other random troublemakers, so she stuck with the areas that no one wanted to be at this hour: the library corridor. Only the most studious of Ravenclaws and Hermione fucking Granger ever got caught after hours at the sodding library, as most Ravenclaws followed the rules scrupulously and actually left said library when they were supposed to.

Every so often Mr Filch would make a pass by the library, but that was only if he spotted a candle or lantern. Ginny knew better. She never needed a light when she felt this restless wandering itch, anyway.

Damn this itch!

She scratched her arms as she brushed by the bookshelves. She itched herself again. She tried to rub against the shelf, but it really didn't help.

RrrrooowRRRRRRR.

The collection of silly animated books that Madam Pince had chained up to keep them from escaping the library were straining to get at her. Ginny snorted as she walked by them. She rubbed against the shelves to scratch the itch on her back. The itch refused to ease, and Ginny began to become more desperate.

She ran her back along the spines of the books in a mad attempt to relieve the itching that seemed to be trying to tear out of her skin from below. Her eyes widened as the moment her bare skin touched the books, the itching stopped.

She sank down to the floor, enjoying the blessed relief.

Itch. Itchitch. Itch!

Ginny pulled at her hair and struggled to stand up again to attempt to rub herself up against the bookshelves again, but as she did, she ended up pulling half the shelf down on the ground along with her.

Clank. SNAP.

Something squirmed on top of her, and Ginny grunted as she lay prostrate on top of a pile of now-unshelved library books.

Rrrr.

Ginny groaned. She'd accidently freed one of those horrible, animated books. Yet, even as she felt it bouncing on top of her, perhaps trying to find a place to sink its unnatural book-teeth into her like all the animated books seemed to want to do after she had—

Ginny hadn't felt even the slightest bit guilty. She had known that the purple and white-spotted book had been one of Hermione's favourite books. And Hermione had somehow turned into some fancy, impossibly fantastic, magical beast and now everyone wanted to shower her with expensive gifts and send delegations to pay tribute. What was she? A Muggleborn? A bookworm? Some pitiful excuse for a witch who made friends with stupid BOOKS instead of people?

It had just made her so very mad, and then the bloody book had bit her squarely on the face in its desperate attempt to escape her clutches. She'd then taken out all of her frustrations out on that sodding book and proceeded to beat and tear it to pieces . Because of Hermione, Harry wouldn't even look twice at her. Because of Hermione sodding Granger— SNAPE!

And there was the biggest rub of all.

Instead of accepting her family when her mother had taken pity on her, Hermione had chosen SNAPE— the most nasty, ugly, foul-tempered, greasy-haired bastard in all the school. Oh sure, Mum thought Snape was a responsible man. What had she said? Complicated. He was— complicated.

Whatever.

Mum had said Hermione had lost her parents and that she needed support and understanding. But where was Ginny's understanding? Her mum had doted on and given her everything until HERMIONE had lost her parents. Feh. Hermione hadn't had to grow up in a house full of boys. Hermione hadn't had to be the youngest child that everyone had loved until someone came along and took it all away!

Oh, sure, she'd been Hermione's friend for a while. She'd even seemed nice— helpful even. But Hermione hadn't even known she was magical until her Hogwarts letter had come. Her parents didn't even know how to change their money until her father had gone and graciously helped them— little lost family who didn't know even a lick about Diagon Alley.

A little tickle in her head tried to remind her that Harry, her idol, hadn't known anything either, but that was swiftly drowned out by her far more numerous, much more dominant and angry thoughts. Harry, at least, had magical blood in him.

AGH!

The ITCH!

She rolled around on top of the books, and just as soon as the smooth leather touched her skin, she cried out in relief. Sweet, blessed relief. She grabbed a book to try and push herself off the ground, and a dark maroon-furred book tried to squirm out of her arms. However, as her hands touched the fur, a feeling of relief seemed to rush through her. And she stilled.

She stroked the book with her fingers, and, just like magic, the itching suddenly stopped. Clutching the book tightly against herself, Ginny struggled to get back up. She groaned as the itching started up again, and she hugged the book close, kneeling on the floor with her face pressed up against the maroon book's fur.

Wizarding Fertility: Sex Magick For Power and Success

Ugh. No wonder it was in the restricted section. She moved to fling the book away, but even as the thought about it, the itch started up again, and she desperately pulled the book against her again, pressing the fur against her chest. Ginny fell on her side, whimpering. What the hell was this horrible, maddening itch?

The book made a strange, oddly soothing purring sound as she rubbed her face into its covers. Her body grew strangely… warm. Merlin, did that ever feel good! She groaned. Her face flushed in embarrassment that she was feeling this good because of some ruddy library book. Really, really good—

Ginny shuddered. Her body grew almost unbearably hot, and she started to roll herself over the ground to increase the sensations, the utterly delicious, almost erotic feeling of friction. Anything— anything to make the sensations of pleasure grow even stronger.

Rrrrr?

Ginny's eyes widened as the purring maroon book gave her what seemed like an experimental lick.

Sweet, merciful Merlin!

Ginny found herself purring back ecstatically. She rubbed her face against the maroon book, her breathing soon becoming fast and heavy in her state of arousal. She looked dazedly into the maroon book's suddenly beautiful green eyes as an very intense surge of toe-curling, undeniable ecstasy ripped through her body. Right before everything went blissfully black.

"Merlin's creeping toenail fungus!" Madam Pince screeched in shock, breaking her own rules about raising her voice in the library. "What in the bloody hell happenedin here?!"

A crowd of students from various years were all silent and staring, gathered around something in a rough sort of semicircle. There were books everywhere. The shelves had been toppled. The desks had all been moved around, and there were these strange little squeaking noises coming from the floor.

Pince made her way forward, pushing the gawking students out of her way. She looked down at what they were staring at and had the sudden urge to sit down.

There, in a pile of Gryffindor robes, with a student's wand lying on top, was a rather plump-looking ginger-furred book snuggling with a deep maroon book. The maroon book she recognised as belonging in the restricted section, but the ginger-furred book was a new one: Wizarding Fertility: A Case Study.

But that wasn't what had her boggling and desperately searching for a very large, very strong coffee, perhaps even with a healthy shot of firewhisky in it, no. All around the happily canoodling books, were a vast number of small, furry books— ginger with maroon spots and maroon with ginger spots— all gambolling and bouncing and skittering about the carpeted floor, squeaking excitedly.

Each of the frolicking booklets bore the very same title: The Teen's Guide To Truly Magical Sex: What Mum and Dad Won't Tell You.

Strangely, Madam Pince's first thought was to wonder how in the world the publisher managed to fit such an absurdly long title on the booklets' rather petite book spines. Her second thought was wondering if she should round them all up and gift them to Madam Pomfrey for those students that came in asking all those awkward questions.

The baby booklets bounced up to Pince's ankles and rubbed up against her, purring. At that, the vulturing witch's hardened expression suddenly softened. She knelt down, and all of the booklets sprung into her arms, purring madly. Tiny furry hearts formed over the booklet's covers as they snuggled up to Pince's wrinkled, yet no-longer-quite-so-hardened face.

PurrRRrRRRRRrrRRRRRR!

With a quick wave of her wand, Pince banished the two canoodling books off to the restricted section and set the entire library back to rights. She took her armful of happy, cooing baby booklets with her— the very first smile anyone had ever seen her with now plastered all over her aged face. She hesitated before leaving, gesturing with her wand, and the pile of apparently discarded robes followed her as she made her way up to the Headmaster's office.

Baby booklets bounced up and down on Albus Dumbledore's desk, merrily chasing an oddly amused-looking Fawkes, flinging his quills, toppling his inkwells, spinning his globe, swimming in his pensieve, and trying to cuddle with the giant copy of Hogwarts: A History.

Fawkes seemed to get a handle on the situation by sitting on top of them, and the booklets cooed and snuggled under the warm phoenix like strangely book-shaped chicks.

Albus stared at his familiar. "Is this your doing?"

Fawkes just blinked at him and Albus got the rather odd feeling that his familiar was scoffing at him and thinking him utterly daft. "Kaww?"

"So, you say found this uniform— Ginevra Weasley's if the distinctive hand-sewn label is to be believed— in the middle of the library with just shelves and books and tables everywhere and a bunch of—

The booklets bounced up and down on his desk and leapt at him, sliding down his beard with an unmistakeable "Whee!"

Albus cleared his throat. "Book-lets?"

"I'm pretty sure as to which particular books did the deed, as it were," Pince answered faintly, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. "The unusual colouring gave them away."

"I see. And which books would those be, Madam?"

"Wizarding Fertility Rites: Sex Magick For Power and Success and Wizarding Fertility: A Case Study," Madam Pince replied.

Albus peered down at the collection of happy baby booklets over his half-moon spectacles. "I believe that may explain the The Teen's Guide To Truly Magical Sex: What Mum and Dad Won't Tell You."

"I'll have Minerva check the tower for Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said with a baffled expression. "As I understand it, Ginevra has spent several weeks in detention with you already this year?"

"Yes, I discovered that she was the person responsible for stealing one of the books out from my library and… dismembering it."

Dumbledore stroked his beard rather thoughtfully. "Well, if she doesn't turn up, I'm afraid I will have to inform Molly that her daughter has sadly left a rather disturbing trail of literary destruction in her wake.

"Headmaster, I must respectfully request an expansion of the school library and the creation of a separate section for the— livelier books."

"Hrm, probably a wise idea," Albus agreed. "Very well, you may do so. The Board has been strangely silent of late, so I feel I will take that as an unqualified yes."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Pince replied.

"In the meantime, Madam," Albus said, "Might I prevail upon you to kindly de-infest my office?"

Fawkes sat on top of his collection of baby booklets, tenderly covering them up with his wings.

The bouncing booklets all froze into place, some of them sliding off the globe they had been spinning on. They all burst into tears, wailing together.

"You're such a cruel taskmaster, Headmaster," Pince said.

Weasley Daughter Missing, Leaves Behind a Trail of Wanton Literary Destruction

Mere weeks after Ronald Weasley was first reported missing, we must sadly report that his sister, Ginevra Weasley, has also been reported missing. Miss Weasley's school robes were discovered on the floor of a ransacked library at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry by the school librarian, Madam Irma Pince, just yesterday.

Unfortunately, Ginevra Weasley, the only girl-child born to the extensive Weasley family line in generations, has been distancing herself from all of her friends at school over the last several months with her increasingly inexplicable and destructive behaviour. That being the case, none of them even knew she was missing until the Aurors arrived to question them as to Miss Weasley's possible whereabouts.

If anyone believes they may have seen Miss Weasley or have received word from her, they are requested to contact Auror Alastor Moody at the DMLE at once, either in person or via a direct owl to his office. The DMLE kindly requests only owls. please. While they do appreciate the fine specimen of capercaillie which delivered some correspondence last week, the unfortunate creature managed to get itself stuck in the mail delivery chutes.

Bumper Crop of Vegetables in This Year's Record Harvest

Farmers all across Britain are joyfully reporting a never-before-reported surplus of crops this year with many record-breaking, top quality specimens from pumpkins to radishes. Food banks everywhere have now been filled to bursting for the first time ever, and we have been assured that the homeless will not be going hungry anytime soon.

Muggles have remained ignorant of our new resident Quetzalcoatls, but the Wizarding world remains smug, feeling they know exactly why things are looking up over Britain. Reports of better conditions even outside of Great Britain are slowly trickling in, and some experts are predicting that as our very own mated pair continue to grow in power, the blessings will spread well beyond our nation's shores.

"This is simply HUGE!" noted Magi-Agriculturist Penny Peabody-DeWitt enthused.

"Don't make me tie you down to this chair, Erik," Thor growled darkly as Darcy tried to give Dr Selvig a drink.

The bearded old man from the counter brought them each a frothy mug of some sort of steaming drink. Selvig immediately tried to snorkel face-first into the hot beverage and would've certainly done so had Jane not quickly lunged forward to stop him.

Thor stared down at his drink and then took a deep swig, his eyes widening in surprise as he realised he rather liked its sweet, creamy flavour. He promptly downed the whole thing, slamming the drinking vessel down on his table in unmistakable approval.

Darcy looked around curiously, She shuffled up to the counter and whispered to the man tending bar behind it. "You wouldn't happen to have an um, blanket handy for my old friend here? He wandered out of the house without his clothes again."

The man's eyebrows rose slightly. "Ah, one of those, aye. We get a few every week. There is a box here in back. Take whatever you need. Might find a shirt and some trousers that fit yer friend too."

"Thanks, uh—"

"Tom, miss. You're quite welcome."

Darcy grabbed a few things from the box, boggling as the box strangely seemed just as full when she left as when she started digging through it. She rushed back to Selvig and hurriedly dressed him like a young mother with an embarrassing naked toddler who had just streaked through the grocery right in front of god and everyone.

Thor slammed down his fifth tankard of frothy beverage with a reverberating belch that caught every eye in the room. "This stuff is fantastic!"

"That's the spirit, lad," a guy with a pointed hat said, saluting him with his own mug of foamy beverage.

Jane looked around. "Do the people here seem a bit— strange to you?"

Darcy just stared blankly at Jane. "You are asking ME this? With Mr Blond Hottie Of-The-Killer-Abs downing his drinks like he's going to empty Tom the bartender's entire vat of frothy goodness?"

"Mrrow."

A black and white cat with somewhat bat-like ears grabbed the empty tankard and carried it off.

Darcy stared in frank astonishment as the cheeky feline busboy left. "How is this even natural?!"

Owls hooted raucously at Darcy from the highest rafters, bobbing their heads at her in avian amusement and curiosity. An entire line of owls flew down and snatched up tankards from Thor's ever-growing pile of empties and carried them off to the kitchen for a wash, even as a freshly-filled tankard appeared directly in front of Thor, seemingly out of nowhere, with a sharp double crack of sound.

Darcy sat down on her hands, totally unsure of what to say or do in this increasingly strange situation.

"Laydee Jhane," Thor's voice slurred in a low murmur, looking sideways at Jane with a heady mix of lust and pure adoration. "You hhhaf the mosht mezzmerrrishing hipsssh."

"Why… ah, thank you, Thor. I think," Jane stammered, making a face as she gently pushed him back into his seat.

The owls above hooted loudly to each other, their eyes half-closed in owlish mirth.

"I really do think they're laughing at us," a now-squirming Darcy said, growing even more paranoid by the minute.

"I whud rheally like to shee you whithout gharments," Thor said almost dreamily.

"I'm sure you would, Thor," Jane said sitting him back down in the chair. "No more of that frothy stuff for you, I think you've had quite enough already."

"Barman!" Thor blurted. "What is this liquid of wonder you serve?"

"Butterbeer, my good man," Tom called from the counter.

"But this flavour— it tastes like no ordinary beer!"

"Butterscotch."

"Butter scotch. I— LIKE IT! More of this buttered scotch!"

"Coming right up, sir," Tom called back.

Darcy rubbed her temples as Tom brought another round of "buttered scotch" and four heaping bowls of shepherd's stew in warm bread bowls. She sipped the frothy beverage and blinked. "This is just butterscotch— I mean, you know— butterscotch-butterscotch!"

Jane sniffed the drink and sipped tentatively. "This is really good!"

Darcy made a face, puckering her lips and gesturing with her eyebrows at Thor.

Jane shook her head and shrugged as if to say "How the hell should I know?"

Thor was attempting to read what appeared to be some sort of local newspaper, but the pictures were moving. Jane and Darcy stared at it (and Thor) in morbid fascination. Thor's eyebrows were raised high and his lips were moving slowly as his mind fought to make sense of what his eyes were trying to tell him.

"Not possible," Thor blurted out in clear shock. He bashed the paper down onto the table a few times as if to shock it into telling him the true story.

"Oh, my sweet Lady Granger-Snape," Tom's voice cooed in obvious pleasure from the counter. "You really shouldn't have."

"I fear you'll have to blame our Rith," a feminine voice laughed. "He took quite a shine to your book of English Bar Songs."

A warm brown-furred book with startlingly blue eyes cooed up at him. Tom cuddled it to his chest. "You're such a bonnie lass, my old friend. Just look at you now."

PurrrRrrrRrrrrrr!

"Your usual seats, my friends?"

"Please."

"I believe Alastor sent word that he would be a little late this evening," Tom said, leading them to a table in the back near a warm hearth. "The Weasley investigations, you know."

The young woman nodded understandingly, and her male escort pressed his lips tenderly to her temple in a soothing gesture.

"I'll go and seat them, grandpa," a little girl's voice said sweetly. The child might have been nine or ten, but her face was unusually pale with a sort of heavy tiredness that was very noticeable in her gentle blue eyes.

"Now, Wren, my dear, you know you're not supposed to be working too hard," Tom said sadly.

"I'm not dead yet, granddad," she said with a warm smile. She shooed him off, imperiously.

The girl lead the young couple to the back and sat them down, fetching them both their water and tea by hand.

"Your grandfather worries about you," the man said quietly.

"Let's get a look at you, okay?" the woman said fondly, hoisting the little girl up into the seat.

"Lady Hermione, would you please sing for me?" Wren asked, gazing up hopefully at her.

"Dear child, right here in the tavern?"

Wren nodded her head up and down vigorously. "Please? My mummy and daddy used to sing for me before—"

Hermione flashed an understanding smile with just a hint of true sadness behind it for the enormity of the little girl's losses. "Close your eyes, my love," Hermione said.

Wren closed her eyes tightly.

Hermione's body rocked slowly from side-to-side, her eyes closed. Loki's moved in rhythm with hers, and they curved themselves around Wren with eerily flexible bodies. Hermione and Loki folded their arms in front of themselves as they rocked. They dipped their heads to touch the girl on the head, causing her to smile and giggle softly, but she obediently kept her eyes closed.

"Hnnnnnnnnnnnnn," Hermione sang.

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnngh," Loki sang in harmony.

They moved against each other, brushing lightly, shoulders and arms sealed tightly against their bodies as if they had no arms at all. Feathers rustled. Scale rubbed against scale. Their tongues flicked, and wild magic sang in response to their own pulsing magic as the wind rose, even indoors, and the fresh, intoxicating scent of petrichor filled the very air around them.

Brightly-feathered wings unfolded, overlapping them all in both a rainbow of colours and the bright, solemn glow of the moon. Golden scales brushed against deep cobalt. Magic whispered across every scale. Life pulsed with every touch. The golden serpent lowered her head, a trail of glistening feathers dripped from her golden eyes, splashing on the girl's face.

"Nnnnnnnnnnn," they sang together, their feathers brushing across the girl's skin as their coils moved around her, rising up, cradling her, rocking her to the sound of magic's whisper in the air.

Instantly, tears began to trickle down every face in the tavern.

Soft little feathers and tiny, shimmering scales rained down upon Wren and infested her hair as her hair wove itself into a long, thin braid by her ear. Feathers and scales tinkled and shimmered, ending with a tiny crystal vial whose rare contents glowed with the power of ancient magic.

They lay her down gently in Tom's arms, their tails withdrawing as the pair shimmered and shrank, their quetzalcoatl forms fading back into that which was far more human and less godly.

Wren was trembling to keep her eyes closed.

"You may open your eyes now, dear child," Loki said kindly.

Wren's eyes opened and she took in a deep breath. Her eyes grew wide. "The pain is gone, grandfather!" She flung her arms around his neck and burst into tears of joy as the tiny vial tinkled in her hair.

Tom stared, wide-eyed, at his now-healthy granddaughter with wonder and then back to the pair, stunned speechless.

"I don't suppose I could trouble you for a drink," Loki said with a lopsided grin. "I'm beat."

Tom's face beamed brightly. "The best in the house. Now and until the day I'm unable to cook!"

A tankard crashed to the floor and everyone turned to face the source of the sound.

"Brother?" Thor blurted out hoarsely, staring in disbelief.

Loki tilted his head slightly and favoured Thor with a look of mild curiosity. "Well, hello there, brother. What brings you so low as to visit the exiled one in Miðgarðr, hrm?"

"Exiled?" Jane stared at Loki. She couldn't help it. There was something powerful about him that wasn't in the immediate look, that wasn't as blatantly obvious as it was with Thor. While Thor seemed like a whale in the middle of a desert biome, this— Loki— had a different sort of aloofness or indifference in his manner. Yet at the same time, he was the kind of person who cared enough to heal a sick child— actually heal them with magic.

Real magic.

Not stuff you see on David Copperfield or 101 acts in Vegas, no.

"Is it because you're a giant flying lizard?" Darcy asked in eager curiosity.

Jane stepped on Darcy's foot. Hard.

"Ow!" Darcy glared at Thor, thinking him responsible.

Loki eyed Darcy with the very same expression that Jane imagined she herself might use to greet a very enthusiastic puppy that just piddled in excitement all over her brand new white carpet. "Serpent," Loki said with a distinct sniff.

Jane just shook her head. Darcy was usually very observant, not really the type to mix up flying snake with flying lizard, but both things were pretty much out there for hardcore scientists, so she found she couldn't really blame Darcy TOO much. The owls were gathering again, peering down at them from above. Ever so often, this— Hermione— would hold out her hand with something in it, and the owls would alight on her hand and take something from her, shuffle up her arm and rub themselves against her ear, and then fly back up to the rafters. There was something about her, too. It was almost… alien, the same sort of eerie, surreal feeling you might get when you look at someone and they look just like your mother but they also seem a little too much like said mother. It was kind of hard to explain, even in her own head— which is where it was bouncing around as crazily as a monkey on speed.

There was a tiny, furry book peeking out at her from Hermione's hair. In fact, it was… staring at her. Jane shifted uncomfortably.

A tiny, fuzzy pink heart formed over the book's cover.

Jane felt every bad emotion she'd ever have in her life suddenly flee screaming into the night, and she opened her hands in a gesture.

SPRONG!

The purple book with golden spots purred happily and rubbed itself all over her hands.

Jane's lips quivered and she snuggled it closely.

PururururrrrrRRRRrrRRRRR!

Jane's eyes widened slightly as Loki's penetrating gaze bored into her, but his expression began soften as he watched her snuggle the little furry book. Perhaps, it was a sign of approval or at least something a bit less cold. Loki leaned over and whispered something softly into his lady's ear, and Hermione turned to peer at Jane, inclining her head with undeniable re-evaluation. Her eyes were warm, but there was a certain… something in her demeanor that made Jane suspect that Hermione had been hurt badly by something in her past, and that, as a result, her trust was understandably somewhat harder to gain. Then again, it seemed to her that Loki was much the same. There was something deeper to him that simmered underneath, hidden under the gaze of ice.

"Rrrr! Rrrrp!" The little book her hands hopped onto her shoulder and cuddled up to her neck. It gave her a pasty lick and snuggled against her, blissfully oblivious to anyone but her.

It was all Jane could do to keep herself from breaking down into a gushing, babbling, melty mess of emotional "Awwwwww!"

"Careful, Dr Foster," Hermione's voice said in a soft rumble of sound. "You may never be rid of him now. All may be lost if he licks you."

Jane flushed bright red.

"Too late, my love," Loki said in clear amusement, eyeing Jane with a somewhat less predatory evaluation.

"Heliotrope," Hermione said, extending her hand.

The little book squeaked and bounced down Jane's arm to hop into Hermione's. Jane felt a distinct pang of loss.

The purple book cooed as Hermione pressed her forehead to the cover of the little book. "Be good now, little one," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on the book's cover.

A big heart appeared over the book's cover, and Heliotrope gave Hermione a final lick before bouncing back to Jane and hopping into her hands. Jane instinctively hugged him, feeling as though she had just lost and refound a big piece of herself.

"Take care of him," Hermione said, her brown eyes flashing bright gold for a moment. "He's a good little book."

Jane could only nod gratefully. Heliotrope trembled in her hands and shook violently a moment, then—

Shing!

Golden letters appeared over his spine: Science is Magic Too.

"Aww, I think I'm jealous!" Darcy said, pouting.

Heliotrope promptly dove into Jane's hair

Jane tried to look like she was paying more attention than she actually was to Thor's conversation with his brother— wondering what Thor's parents looked like where Loki's parentage was simply accepted from the start. She came from a long line of dark blondes. Had she had a brother with black hair and ice-blue eyes, her parents would have been wondering if someone had mixed up the babies at the hospital.

"Milkman," was what her grandmother would have said.

Just then, a rather intimidating-looking man walked in from the street. He had grey-blond hair going in all directions and… was that an eye in some kind of ring, patch… thing?

"Nehhh," the man said, grabbing himself a drink off the counter as he walked by, tossing the barman some sort of gold coin as he passed. "Having a party, folks?"

Hermione smiled at him. "Have a seat, Alastor. This is Dr Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis, and Dr Erik Selvig." Hermione inclined her head. "The big guy with the tankard is Thor. Everyone, this is Master Auror Alastor Moody."

"Auror?" Darcy was always the first person to stand up and embarrass herself for others.

"You been livin' under a rock, lass?" Alastor said, looking her up and down. "I take it those aren't for show."

Darcy made a strange face as she stared at a now bemused-looking Moody.

"Do I need to call the Obliviation team, Hermione?" Alastor said casually, drinking his beverage.

"Thor is my husband's brother, Alastor. That will not be necessary."

Alastor looked at Thor and then back to Loki. "Uh… huh."

"Are you a gangster?" Dr Selvig blurted eagerly.

Moody puckered his face at that. "No."

Dr Selvig actually looked disappointed.

Hermione sighed. "It was entirely a chance meeting, Alastor, but apparently both brothers have been out of touch for awhile now."

"And you lot are all— related?"

"Jane is my woman," Thor said quickly.

"I am not a wo— I am not YOUR woman!" Jane hissed with exasperation and flushing brightly.

"Methinks the lady doth protest just a little too much," Moody muttered half under his breath. He eyed the happy purple book perched on Jane's shoulder, evaluated Selvig's mismatched excuse for clothes, and watched a pair of sneaky ninja paws stealing all of Darcy's shiny objects. "I trust you will fill this lot in on the Statute of Secrecy?"

Hermione nodded.

"Wait, what would happen if—"

Jane kicked Darcy in the shins, again.

"Ow! What the hell, Jane?!"

Jane gave Darcy a pointed look.

Moody finished his drink and the cheese sarnie he had pulled out of nowhere. "Look, Hermione, I have to go and finish the paperwork for the lost Weasleys again. Big pain in my arse, you as me."

Hermione frowned. "Alastor, is there a chance at all that somehow Ronald and Ginny were inflicted by the same sort of affliction?"

"You mean did your friends transform into some random oddly-coloured animated and sentient book?"

"Wouldn't quite call them friends," Loki noted.

"Former schoolmates, then," Alastor said, rolling his good eye. "Whatever. The point is, Amelia and her team did all kinds of tests. Marcus even started one and got bitten on the nose, but he wasn't sprouting fur and drooling book paste. There is no Dark magic in them. If they bite you or lick you, you get library paste on you. Hell, that purple one with the white spots even gave me a love bite and I'm not showing any signs of turning into a book called "Disgruntled Malcontent: An Auror's Life," so I think we're safe, lass." Moody startled and opened up his jacket, pulling out a snoozing little leather book with mottled brown fur and sleepy grey eyes. It yawned with a squeak and looked around. "Here ya go, lass. Thanks for letting me borrow her."

The book whimpered, wilting in Moody's arm, looking up at him with soulful grey eyes.

"I dunno, my friend," Hermione chuckled. "I think she's taken a fancy to your own special brand of disgruntled malcontentedness."

"Besides," Loki said with a sly smile. "What else to keep you company on those cold nights at the office when you'd far rather be home?"

The mottled book looked up at him hopefully.

The Auror sighed with wholly feigned resignation. He gently pet the book on the cover and shook his head. "Fine. But I refuse to call her anything cute and humiliating."

A large furry heart formed over the mottled books cover.

Shudder.

Shingggg!

Golden letters appeared on the mottled book's spine: The Perfectly Purrable Alastor Moody

PurrrrrRRrRrrrRRRRR!

Loki grinned from ear-to-ear.

With Darcy taking the recovering Dr Selvig along with her to check into a newly-renovated guest suite in the Leaky, Loki invited his brother and his "woman/not your woman" Jane to stay with them at their home. The goblins eyed Thor with a sort of bored expression, but they stared at Jane for quite some time before finally deigning to let her through. Jane figeted, but Hermione explained that they were trying to remember her face since she had no magic or wand with which to identify her.

Jane tried not to freak out over the goblins in general— they looked very scary from far away and doubly so up close. It wasn't until a group of young goblets came running up to cling to Hermione and Loki's legs, and the pair sang their song to them. The children clapped and cheered, making sure to hug them before running off. The adult goblins just shook their heads, apologising for the young goblets' general lack of interest in niceties such as personal space.

"Goblet? Jane asked, thinking the drinking vessel.

Hermione smiled. "A young goblin is called a goblet. It makes for some pretty interesting misunderstandings in everyday conversation."

"I can see where someone might derail," Jane admitted, glad that Hermione had cleared that up before she became an unfortunate victim of that particular misunderstanding.

When they came to the vast overdrop overlooking the cavernous series of vaults and living quarters, Jane looked at Thor with no little panic in her wide brown eyes.

Loki turned to Thor, his ice-blue eyes shifting into a deep emerald green and then to ruby red. "Trust me, will you, brother?"

Thor could sense that there was something more to the question than just the words themselves. Loki was waiting for something— telling.

Hermione shook her head, loosening her mane from its restraining hair clip, colourful feathers and brunette hair descending into a thick mane of curls. Her eyes had bled into liquid gold— twin suns. Intricate, patterned markings rose up across her skin— deep grooves and high raised runes. Loki took her hand in his, and his skin grew darker into a deep cobalt. His eyes glittered like flawless rubies.

"Hnnnnnn Hnnnnnnnn," Hermione sang.

"Ahhhnnnnnnnnnnn," Loki rumbled lowly in reply.

Loki focused his intense, glowing ruby eyes on Thor, the look on his face almost fearful, hesitant. "Can you find it within yourself to accept me as I truly am, brother? Or shall our upbringing forever drive a wedge between us, just as Odin drove us both from Ásgarðr?"

Hermione's arms flexed and popped into place as they spread into a pair of great rainbow wings. Bright scales and feathers covered her skin, and her golden head lowered to touch Loki's. Her golden tongue slithered out to taste the air as the rest of her mass caught up with her and she expanded outward in a rush of warm magic.

Thor took a step back, his blue eyes going very wide as he stared at Loki in total shocked disbelief. "You can't be."

"Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn," Hermione crooned invitingly.

Loki's form stretched, and his arms folded inward, drawn tightly against his body and then fanned out as fine, softly glowing wings in the pale, luminous colour of the moon. His skin rippled as scales erupted outward and covered his body. His black hair thickened into a mane of mixed fur and feathers, all the deepest colours of the midnight sky. His ruby eyes glowed as his tongue flicked outward.

"NnnnnnnnhhhhHHH," he crooned lowly, earning him a tender nuzzle of scale against scale from his beautiful mate.

"I trust you brother," Thor said firmly, taking a large step forward. "You are my brother. You have always been my brother and you always will be."

Hermione gently lowered her head to Jane, and Jane reached out to touch Hermione's mane of soft feathers. She ran her hands across her smooth, warm scales with a sense of wonder and awe.

Thor put his arms around her and silently gave her a lift up, and Jane hugged Hermione's head, carefully grasping hold of her feather shafts to feel more secure. Hermione rumbled, rubbing up against Loki just before she launched herself into the air.

Loki eyed his brother with silent, serpentine patience. Thor pressed his hand to Loki's head right between the eyes, and then leapt up onto his back. Loki promptly took off like a rocket, chasing after his mate in a flash of brilliant blue.

A burst of vivid gold sun flared through the cavern even as the softer blue-white of Loki's aura merged with his mate's. The pair rubbed up against each other as they flew in tandem towards home.

"Oh wow," Jane breathed, looking at the shimmering eggs on the dias and ran her hands across them. "They're beautiful! And so warm!"

Thor smiled warmly at Loki, crushing him to himself so hard it sounded like he might've inadvertently cracked a rib.

"Hrk!" Loki whispered.

"Well done, brother!" Thor said with a grin that was threatening to devour his entire face.

Loki managed to look both proud and smug as well.

Hermione hummed softly to the eggs, turning them gently in the sun. Jane helped to turn them, carefully pushing them with her weight. The eggs wobbled and moved reluctantly, as if too lazy to get out of bed. Jane looked at all the golden treasure piled around the eggs with no less wonder. Everything from coins, platters, jewelry, and gemstones lined the nest. Even as she watched, a pair of paws dropped a silver mirror onto the ever-growing pile.

"You two have quite a lot of— treasure in here," Jane said with a disbelieving grin.

Hermione slumped. "They just can't help themselves."

Loki smiled. "Severus believes the Nifflers are expressing their devotion to her by showering her nest in shinies."

"Us," Hermione corrected firmly, "and ours."

Loki grinned. He turned the egg closest to him and placed an ear to them. "Lazy serpent children. Not even a peep."

"They're sunbathing," Hermione said with a chuckle. "Besides, I know someone who doesn't like to get out of bed too. Perhaps they inherited that tendency from him, hrm?"

Loki gave her a rather smug look. "I didn't hear any complaints, wife."

Hermione just smiled serenely at him.

"With five eggs, I should say not," Thor said, giving the nearby egg a fond pat. "Think of what mother would have done with five of us at one time."

Loki crossed his arms. "She'd have been drowning herself in the kegs."

Thor snorted. "Our lady mother would handle it in stride. Our father, however, might well have ended up in his cups."

Loki conceded. "True."

Both men sombered at the thought.

"I miss her," Loki confessed quietly.

"Me too, brother," Thor said, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. "She would so love to see these eggs," he said. "Her first-to-be-born grandchildren."

Loki sighed. "I can only hope that Heimdall is at least watching us and can tell her that they are here waiting for her."

Thor gave Loki a little shake. "He will, provided our father has not expressly forbidden him to speak of it to anyone."

"Not to sound like the ignorant mortal girl here," Jane said, "but how does someone who has the power to kick his sons into another world judge another's humility?"

"He deserved it," Thor and Loki said together, sharing a "he did it" look.

"You are definitely brothers, that is for certain," Jane muttered.

Hermione chuckled. "Come, I've prepared you some private quarters here at the temple. You and Thor are welcome to make yourselves at home."

"You actually live in a temple?" Jane asked, amazed.

"It's easier to call it a temple than say 'that place we live in that looks like the Temple of Kukulcan but is really just a goblin-built replica complete with ample living space on the inside'."

Jane stared at Hermione.

Hermione grinned at her. "You could call it the goblin Chichen Itza, but I still prefer just calling it the temple."

Jane smiled at her. "I'll give you that."

"I like to call it home," Loki said with a rather serpentine smile. He wiggled his head and neck back and forth at Hermione and winked, causing his wife to blush profusely.

Thor slipped into the bath, his arm slipping around Jane, who was still feeling a bit of shock and awe. For once, she didn't shy away from his touch, and instead snuggled up against him, letting the hot water take away all their stresses. Having at least found Dr Selvig had put Jane in a much better mood, but she had confessed that he had seen something that had unsettled him— some truth he had not been ready for, and unlike Jane and Darcy, who had each other to pull together while being inundated with new information, he had retreated deep within his own mind.

What that truth might be, no one had a clue. If Selvig himself even knew, he wasn't talking about it, at least not in any way that anyone could discern. Darcy was absolutely convinced that Selvig had some higher truth locked up inside his head, but Jane was convinced that EVERYTHING was locked up inside his head— like how to dress himself in clothes and not invisible threads before running off and inflicting his nudity on the unwary public.

To top off all the drama, some military organisation was attempting to get a lock on them, so Jane believed that hiding out in a temple in the middle of no-one-knows-where in the heart of London was probably considerably safer than trying to fly back home to New Mexico. Thor wasn't exactly an easy man to hide. He towered over everyone even when he was slouching. His bright blond hair was like a beacon of light within a sea of browns and dark blondes. He spoke with the kind of voice that was clearly used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted, even when he had no real idea exactly what it was that he wanted. He bellowed his gratification over a meal or drink by breaking eating utensils and cups. He was embarrassingly loud and obnoxious, yet he was so painfully awkward at times and even somewhat shy when it came to learning new things. She found him terribly endearing, and yet that made her a little uncomfortable. One moment she just wanted him out of her life so things could get back to normal and the next she couldn't imagine life without him.

He was so… aggravating.

And yet—

His touch made her want to roll into him and feel him everywhere. She wanted to kiss him until she couldn't breathe. She—

Jane flushed bright red. According to him, he was a god. Yet he had no powers to speak of short of turning her life upside down. His brother, on the other hand, seemed to have power well at hand. The way he flirted with his wife— as if she wasn't his but he wanted her to be— was strangely human.

Part of her tried to remind her that many animals flirted. It wasn't solely a human thing. Why would Asgardian gods be any different?

Gods.

Honest-to-goodness GODS.

Jane tried to shove her attraction into a box and hide it away and look at Thor clinically, almost like a little lost puppy, but it wasn't quite working for her.

Thor, son of Odin. Odin, the All-Father of the Norse Pantheon—

Loki, the God of Mischief.

Living. Breathing. Reach out and touch them—

Apparently, all was not peaceful in the lands of the gods any more than they were on Earth. Odin had kicked his younger son out to learn humility. Then, he'd kicked his elder son out to learn the same lesson. Humility was apparently a school of hard knocks as far as Asgardians were concerned. You either got the shit beat out of you and learned "Oh hey, I bow to you" or you were so arrogant due to your impressive level of skill that you needed a good shove to a more primitive world to remember why you were supposed to be better. Or, she supposed, be like Loki where your temper caused you to destroy things so much that father got sick of you breaking things…

Loki was quite the handful of drama all on his own.

Thor had come to realise his brother had been adopted— and despite there being nothing wrong with adoption per se, he had been an adopted frost giant, and frost giants were, as she had just learned, the age-old enemies of Asgard. Yet, the depth of Thor's love for his brother had somehow transcended instinctual, cultural, and societal brainwashing to hate on sight, which she thought was a very impressive thing.

Loki didn't exactly look like his brother in any way, but she didn't see the frost giant. Giant implied, well, massive size. Yes, he and Thor were both larger than life, but standing side-by-side, Loki was quite a bit smaller than Thor. Then again, Loki was also a gargantuan feathered, flying serpent of, erm, truly godly proportions. Again— it all came down to gods.

On the other hand, Hermione had said she had been quite human, if a magical human, until so very recently. She still identified with that part of herself, despite it all. Despite being an enormous, radiant being of the sun that showered divine blessings down on the innocent and the worthy like the healing hand of the Christian Christ.

Jane found, if she shoved that rather odd bit truth out of the way, Hermione was surprisingly easy to talk to. Hermione had generously "made" some rooms for her and Thor, and she'd even given them both separate bedrooms and private baths as well as the shared hot tub. She spoke of it like it was really nothing, and when Jane had protested, the younger woman had just shaken her head and dismissed it.

"I assure you, there is plenty of room here," she had said. "More than we could ever possibly use, in fact. Unless you, too, prove to be a quetzalcoatl because I would certainly need to accommodate for that."

Jane had assured her she was most definitely not a gargantuan flying snake.

Hermione had given her a sly, mischievous smile. "I didn't think so either, once."

Jane, however, was pretty much positive that such a development was not in the cards for herself. She had had no dreams whatsoever of being a gigantic flying snake. She had not had strange omens of who she was to be with, and they had definitely not included someone tall, blond, and Nordic.

Hermione had not presumed anything with regard to the making of their new quarters. She had not given them one bed or anything that would have hinted at their being a couple. They were simply sharing a very large suite, almost like flatmates— at least until she had realised he was very interested indeed in her. More than just the simple proclaiming of her being his woman, good gracious, where and how would she—

Jane flushed an even deeper red, and pretended to sink under the water to enjoy the water, just out of reach of his even warmer, strong, utterly attractive— oh god.

There was a dark-furred platypus-looking creature staring at her from the side of the hot tub. It groomed its fur absently, making an odd chittering sound. It pulled a tiny vial of something out of its— pouch?— along with a small piece of parchment.

She peered down at the writing. Compact, almost elegant writing— perhaps made by using an old-fashioned fountain pen or even a quill. Why would anyone write with a quill when a pen was so much easier? The writing stood out against the parchment, the blackest of black against the pale golden shade that made up the surface.

Three droplets under the tongue will provide no less sensation of pleasure without the pain. Do not use more than three. I repeat, in case you are leaking grey matter from your ears, do not use more than three. A suitable dropper has been provided. You are quite welcome.

DO NOT USE MORE THAN THREE.

P.S. Best to use it now because the effects are quite prolonged, and later you may find yourself unable to use said dropper effectively without buggering it up.

P.P.S. Suitable silencing charms have already been provided you. My daughter may take you at your word that you are not ready to take to each other like Nifflers on a treasure horde, but I prefer to be assured of a good night's slumber rather than merely wishing I could sleep.

P.P.P.S. THREE DROPS ONLY!

The little creature handed her a delicate crystalline dropper and promptly vanished in a startling blur of motion.

Jane suddenly found herself blushing profusely. Hermione's father was not the warm and caring sort she expected as being the parent of someone so sweet as Hermione. He had enquired as to precisely what she was a doctor of, and she had explained she held a doctorate in astrophysics. He had given her an arched eyebrow that seemed to say, "is that all?"

He wore robes with a striking resemblance to that of a priest's habit, black as pitch, save for the small splash of white at his throat. Come to think of it, that, too, looked rather like a priest's clerical collar. The robes were much like Hermione's, but while Hermione had somehow made black seem like warm, even welcoming colour, her father, Severus, made it look like pure intimidation had somehow been woven into clothing.

"Father," Hermione had greeted him joyfully, flowing into him like a bright young bird that had been swallowed up by the night sky. No hesitation at all. No lack of warmth marked Hermione's actions. This man— Severus— obviously had the woman's total and complete trust.

He had swallowed her up in an obviously loving embrace, pressing his prominent nose into her mane of mingled hair and feathers. His dark, fathomless eyes had then stared into her, and she had felt like she was going through a scanner at the airport, being searched for dangerous weapons or illegal plants, foods, or any other random variety of contraband.

Even Loki had bowed his head to this man, this Severus, and Thor had likely picked up on it for he had followed his brother's example and done the same. Only she had not— having had no reason of her own to display such deference, especially upon a first meeting. Whether he had cared about that or not, Jane hadn't the slightest clue, but it was clear that this man was regarded as far more than just some magical elder to Hermione. More than just a father by birth. This man had earned her respect as well as her love, and Jane was the first to admit that you didn't always have automatic love and/or respect for someone who had contributed his or her DNA to your conception.

Jane stared at the tiny vial. Hermione trusted him. He obviously meant it to help her, implying that it would help with, ahem… any issues stemming from her justifiable trepidation with regard to her sexual attraction to such a prime specimen of Asgardian manhood as Thor Odinson.

A little thought tugged at her. Hermione obviously didn't have any such issues with Loki— and there were five eggs in the upstairs to attest to that. How did that work, exactly? Did they— Oh god, why was thinking about THAT?!

She quickly unstoppered the vial and filled the small dropper. Hermione trusted him. It certainly wasn't going to kill her. She took a deep breath and tilted her head back.

One.

Two.

Three.

Thor's warm arm slid around her waist. "Jane? Are you alright?"

Whoops.

Oh, fuck. Was that five or ten extra drops? She struggled to put the vial cap back on, then turned her head slightly to look up at Thor.

"Just, um… powdering my nose."

"In a hot tub?" Thor frowned.

Good one, Jane. How lame can you possibly be?

Thor gazed down at her, seeming more than a little concerned. Jane wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head against his broad chest, listening to his heart. There was no strange heartbeat, a hint of double hearts, or anything else that screamed alien about him. It was just a perfectly normal heartbeat. Other than the fact that it seemed to be speeding up significantly, rather like her own.

Maybe he really was just a man under all that godly packaging— not that she didn't appreciate some of that truly gorgeous packaging. But if he was… then maybe he would be able to connect to her too.

She rubbed her skin slowly against his, savouring the incredibly male feel and scent of him, and this time when his body stirred against her, she didn't immediately flee screaming for the hills. She ran her hands over his chest, up his neck into his long blond hair, and then slid her fingers up to his perfectly defined cheekbones.

His heartbeat was going faster and faster, and she could feel her own doing much the same.

"I am not your woman!" she had always protested.

"But would you like to be?" Loki had asked quite knowingly, boring into her with a gaze that seemed both ice and fire combined.

"Thor?"

"My Jane?" he rumbled softly.

His Jane. Yes. She really liked the sound of that. Despite her many and frequent protests to the contrary, she really did want to be his.

"I—really, really like you," Jane admitted almost abashedly, her face turning a fine shade of red.

"Jane, are you well? Do you wish me to ask Lady Hermione if—"

"I'm fine, Thor, I promise. I just," Jane struggled to find words. "I'm tired of running away from what could be, thinking only of what might not be."

Thor seemed to chew on that for awhile. "Not that I do not appreciate you displaying a little more confidence in me, and more openness to what exists between us, my Jane, but—"

Jane silenced him with a fierce kiss, and Thor staggered, completely caught off guard for a moment. Then he found himself wrapping his own arms around her as his eyes widened with her rather abrupt change in tactics, especially after she had always denied even the slightest acknowledgment of any conscious desire she might be feel for him. While Thor had read a great many unconscious signals that she didn't to be aware that she'd been displaying, they never seemed to quite match up into something he could make sense of.

Her body language had always said "hold me close" while her arms continually pushed him away and kept him at what she apparently felt was a safe distance. It was all very confusing. Asgardian women were very clear on what they wanted. One night. However many nights. Long term or just the possibility of something long term. He had never once bed a woman not knowing just what it was that they wanted— until he had met Jane and found himself at a complete loss as to how to handle her. He had wanted her from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her, but she had always pushed him away. Now that she was (oh gods that felt good!) finally here in his arms, he struggled to determine if this was Jane or merely someone that looked very much like Jane.

Oh, gods, was this actually somehow Loki's doing?! He was totally going to MURDER his brother! No… time for some reason to set in, he realised. Loki would never do that to him. Or… oh gods… most definitely not that.

"Jane?" Thor finally managed to say, groaning loudly as Jane nibbled on the lobe of his ear, her lush body pressed enticingly to his. "Are you quite certain that this is what you want? "I would not wish you to… regret anything in the morning."

Jane looked into his eyes, suddenly breathless. "I want you. I've always wanted you. Reason tells me that you could disappear the moment you find whatever might find you back into your father's favour."

"Jane—" Thor said firmly. "If this is what you truly want, nothing and no one will ever keep me from your arms."

"You said your father wishes to you to become king," Jane said quietly. "Kings have certain... obligations."

Thor sighed. "I was in line to become king, yes," he admitted. "I've waited for some sign, something that would feel right. But Jane, truly, I have never wanted anything more than a long, fulfilling relationship with you."

"Thor."

"Yes, Jane?"

"Please shut up and take me. Right here, right now. Do you want me?"

Thor twitched in a few interesting places, some rather more obvious than others. "Need you even ask?"

As Thor moved over her, Jane's arms flailed out even as he caught her. Her body arched against his as he fastened onto her neck, and she splashed. The small crystal vial that had been delivered to their rooms teetered off the edge of the hot tub and dropped into the pool. The vial thumped into the bottom, the loose cork stopper popping open to release the violet liquid within, infusing the entire hot tub with the highly-potent contents.

Neither Thor nor Jane even noticed as they proceeded to focus the entirety of their attention on thoroughly worshipping the other's body.

Thump. Thump.

Thud.

Thumpity-thump-thump.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump…

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I warned her. Only three drops. Three. Not five, eleven, thirty-three, or the whole sodding vial."

Loki leaned over and kissed his wife lingeringly on the temple. "Somehow, I do not think that Jane, and certainly not my dear brother of the endless libido, are really minding all that much at the moment."

"Nor shall they for the next week, if they overdosed as much as I suspect they did."

"What was in that vial, Severus?" Loki asked, his crystalline eyes alight with interest.

"Muscle relaxant with a touch of calming draught, suitably adjusted for Muggles," Severus said as he doctored his cup of tea to his liking.

"You emphasised repeatedly that she only take three drops, why?" Loki asked with curiosity.

Severus cleared his throat delicately. "Should a person overindulge, whether by accident or design, it will inevitably cause the overproduction of certain bodily secretions. If they should heedlessly cast all control into the wind and take more than, say, three droppers full, it will act as a—" Severus pressed his lips together and grasped the bridge of his nose tightly, shaking his head.

"Give them the inclinations of two horny Nifflers on top of a treasure heap, with the fertility level to match," Hermione finished with no little amusement. "Provided they are in the mood to begin with."

A thoroughly wicked smile spread across Loki's face, rather like ink spilling across a fresh roll of parchment. "Is that potion—"

"No," Severus stated firmly. "That potion does not encourage one to do anything they do not already wish to do. It is not an aphrodisiac, nor does it render the user more suggestible in any way, shape, or form. It simply relaxes the mind and body enough to make the experience more pleasurable by preventing any pain that might result from… certain activities. Or even very frequent activities. I neither make nor approve the use of any potions that force one to do anything against their will by taking away their self control."

Loki smiled wickedly. "Perhaps I should personally examine this potion of yours. For purely investigative purposes and the ongoing pursuit of knowledge, of course."

"No," Severus said with a sniff, "I am quite certain that neither you nor my daughter require that particular potion for any such purpose."

Hermione blushed quite a lovely shade of pink.

A little purple book with gold spots hopped onto the counter with a rose between its teeth. It hummed at Hermione, a tiny red heart appearing on its cover.

"Awwww," Hermione cooed. "You're so adorable. Thank you!"

She took the rose and cuddled the little book and put him on her shoulder, and he dove into her mane of hair with a happy squeak. "Poor Heliotrope. He's been locked out of their rooms for the last few days."

"Hopefully they at least ate the food you sent them," Loki snorted in clear amusement.

"I took care to add vitamins and concentrated nutritive potions to it to make certain they don't starve to death as they attempt to shag themselves into oblivion," Hermione commented cheekily.

"Daughter."

"Sorry, father. Indulge in frequent bouts of vigorous fornication, then?"

Severus sighed deeply and went back to reading the Quibbler, which had, strangely, become far more popular than the Prophet following Rita Skeeter's embarrassing fall from the height of her former popularity.

"Whooooo."

A blur of feathers marked the arrival of a postal owl, and it landed on a nearby owl-receiving perch, one of which they had set up in every room in the temple.

"Hrm. Well, that's not one of the Gringott's owls," Hermione commented, giving the owl an owl nut and gently stroking the feathers on its chest before removing an official-looking scroll.

"So who wants to shower you with bribes this time?" Severus asked, smirking.

"Father!"

Severus peered over his copy of the Quibbler at her. "Bribes, gifts, heartfelt pleas for your divine favour, whatever."

Hermione blew a pesky feather out of her face, rolling her eyes at him. "Looks like the Hogwarts Board of Governors wants to discuss some sort of "important new development" with my husband and I."

"They want you to nest on top of the Astronomy Tower?"

"Father!"

"Well, it's not like they can offer you anything at this point that the goblins have not already given you and more besides."

"True," Hermione agreed, "but I really don't want Hogwarts to suffer. Well, not the students and faculty at least, just because the Board couldn't find it within themselves to see past their stringent rules, even for a rather unique situation. But should I choose to not accept whatever it is that they might offer, they can at least still be seen as trying to improve matters between us."

"They certainly are trying."

Hermione snorted a laugh. "Yes. Quite."

"Well, I will be in my dungeon quarters should you wish to put in an official appearance," Severus said. "I am, if anything, glad that I no longer have to sleep in that chilly, damp hell-hole any longer, but they don't need to actually know that."

Hermione hugged her father hard, causing him to grunt in mild surprise. "You're so very Slytherin, my father."

"I should hope so," Severus said with a sniff, flipping the page. "Do try not to set anything on fire in the boardroom. Or the old man. It would smell like burnt hair and lemons for weeks."

"Father!"

Loki kissed her forehead and smiled as he offered her his arm. "I love your father!"

Hermione slumped. "Now, I need someone on my side."

Loki pouted, sticking out a quivering bottom lip. "I am always on your side, my love."

Severus waved his hand dismissively, shooing them away. "I am always looking out for you, daughter, even when you believe that I am not."

Hermione leaned down and sweetly kissed her father on the cheek. "I really love you, father," she said warmly.

"So you keep telling me," Severus muttered, turning his cheek.

Hermione threw her hands around him and hugged him tightly. She kissed his temple and then took Loki's arm. "Let's go and see what they want." She and Loki disappeared in a blur of feathers and scales, the sound of their combined songs echoing through the very bowels of Gringott's.

Severus turned the page, the barest hint of a smile curving his lips. "I love you too, daughter."

Jane slipped a piece of parchment under the door to Severus' chambers with a really big and quite literal "THANK YOU!" written upon it. She had no idea what day it was or even if it was still the same week, but she was willing to write a signed confession admitting it had the best few days of her entire life.

A soft rustling caught her attention as she came into the kitchen, and a familiar purple book bounced up and down on the counter with a pink tulip clenched between his teeth.

"Aww," Jane held open her hands and the little book snuggled into them. Heliotrope gave her a big fuzzy heart on his cover and cooed affectionately at her.

"I'm really sorry, little guy," Jane told it. "Seems I've been, uh, a little distracted of late. Forgive me?"

Heliotrope eyed her somewhat suspiciously, but gave her a bookish shrug. Gold letters shimmered across his cover: Communication is Golden.

Jane slumped. She was a book neglecter. "Busted." She hugged the little book and carried him with her.

A gaggle of tiny spotted books bounced by, chasing after a group of larger books. She stared a little, still a little amazed by these things that shouldn't exist, at least according to her scientific astrophysicist brain. That part of her mind was starting to protest to the unscheduled expansion of what was possible, what was normal, and was was… provable.

Sentient books capable of procreation? The evidence was right there, yet when she attempted to figure out how she might go about proving it to someone else (who hadn't seen what she had) she just couldn't work out how to do it.

Jane felt the tickle and nibble of Heliotrope on her neck, and the little book gave her a pasty lick of affection. She smiled, snuggling against him. His soft, thrumming purr seemed to whisk all of her worries away. A plentiful breakfast, lunch, and dinner all sat waiting for herself and Thor on the counter along with a parchment card propped up next to the trays, which said: Place your hand over the tray, and the stasis charm will drop so you can eat it. Jane smiled at Hermione's kind consideration. They had been so wonderfully considerate in making sure that she and her lover had ample food and drink for the past— however long it had been.

It seemed that every time they had started to recover to the point where they felt about to come out and be social, they'd end up taking a soak in the hot tub and one thing would lead to another… over and over again. This morning though, she had elected to skip the soak and gone directly to the shower. Now, finally, she was feeling less like an extremely horny rabbit and more like the usual, far more rational Jane Foster— or, at least, she hoped she was.

By the time she decided that her breakfast was a little too light, and she really wanted to skip lunch and dive directly into the sumptuous roast dinner that had been provided, a freshly-showered Thor had joined her at the counter. They divvied up the food and ate their fill silently, savouring the taste of their food for once in what seemed like forever. Meanwhile, a large gathering of booklets were lining up on the counter, looking as though they really, really, wanted a bite of Thor's medium-rare roast beef.

Thor eyed the books somewhat suspiciously. "Is food even healthy for— parchment?"

One enthusiastic book leapt off the counter—

SNAP!

The beef on the end of his fork disappeared, and the happy booklet scurried off, emitting squeaks of victory.

Thor frowned. "This is a very odd house."

"Says the god…" Jane said a bit dubiously.

"I guarantee you that, in Ásgarðr, our books do not... eat beef. Or anything else, for that matter."

"I'm sure you have something there that boggles the mind to us just as much as these books boggle you," Jane speculated.

"We do have flesh-eating fountain fish that belch musical appreciation when fed. But they do not boggle, they terrify," Thor muttered.

"Oh, now that's so much better," Jane snarked, giving him the eye.

Thor ate the rest of his roast dinner with obvious relish, gingerly feeding booklets in-between bites.

Jane realised she was being stared at— by a larger group of "older" books. One was eyeing her forkful of caesar salad with what could only be described as salad envy. She held out her fork, and Grim's tongue shot out, wrapped around the leaves like a chameleon's tongue on a bug, and dragged the salad greens back into his mouth with a clack.

PurrrRRrRRRrrr.

Grim rubbed up against her sleeve affectionately and bounced away.

The couple silently ate their dinner while feeding the hungry books and booklets.

They both looked up at the same time as one of the shorter, pointy eared creatures— Jane vaguely remembered they had been called goblins— stood at the door. He had a glassy, stunned look about his face as he swayed slightly back and forth. Jane's neck tingled as the fine hairs there stood on end. Something definitely wasn't right. Thor was in front of her in but a blink of an eye, standing between her and this looming, yet unseen threat.

A tall, pale-skinned man stepped out from behind the glassy-eyed goblin. Platinum blond hair fell to the waist as he entered. An ebony cane entered before him, blazing the path with a silver snake's head. His other hand curled around the neck of a pale creature with huge saucer eyes, large ears, and a— pillowcase for clothes. He thrust the creature in front of him.

"Is this the place, you miserable cur?"

"Yes, master! Yes! This is the place Master Draco's letter came from!"

The man sneered, his cruel expression spreading across his patrician high cheekbones. "Good. I do so enjoy a surprise party."

Thor ran forward, and the man pointed at him with a long, slender wand. "Petrificus Totalus."

Thor fell backwards, but out of sheer force of will, he was trying to shake it off.

"Ah, ah, ah," the man tutted derisively. "Civilised behaviour requires a proper introduction. You were not expected. No matter. I am Lucius. You, my rather Scandinavian-looking blond friend, are completely immaterial." He then pointed his wand at a terrified, frozen Jane. "It seems I cannot escape the hordes of vermin. No matter how much I try."

Lucius glided over towards Jane and wrapped his gloved hand around Jane's slender neck. "Where are the eggs, hrm?" Lucius slowly ran a gloved finger down a shaking Jane's cheek. "Such a pretty little Muggle whore."

"Go fuck yourself," Jane hissed. She clamped her hands around his wrist and used it to pull herself up and slam her foot between Lucius' legs.

A livid Thor strained and fought fiercely against the magic that held him, his arm coming loose.

Lucius suddenly seemed to realise that there was something he might've missed. He smiled, throwing Jane hard against the opposite wall. "Incarcerus." He walked over to Thor, peering down at him. "Where are the eggs, Muggle sow?"

He stared at Jane as he pointed his wand down at Thor.

Jane glared daggers of pure hatred toward Lucius.

"Hrm," Lucius said, shaking his head mock-sadly. "Crucio."

Thor screamed out in agony, his entire body lifting up off the ground as he convulsed wildly.

"Ah," Lucius breathed, a sigh of contentment signalled the smile that should not belong on one's face after torturing someone. Unless, perhaps, he was a textbook sociopath. "I can do this allllll day long, girl. Where are the eggs that my worthless traitor of a son believes to hold his unborn mutant nephews and nieces?"

"Get. Bent," Jane hissed. "You fucking piece of shit."

Lucius flicked his wand, and Jane choked as her mouth suddenly filled up with soap suds. "Now is that any way to speak to your betters?"

Thor strained against the magic with every last bit of his formidable strength. "I'll have your head, you bastard son of a Helheim whore!"

Lucius frowned at Thor, seemingly pondering this rather strange turn of phrase. He shrugged. "Crucio," he said, almost boredly.

Thor screamed again, his body thrashing despite the restraints.

Lucius hit her lover with the torturous spell again and again, and Jane screamed for Lucius to stop.

"Tell me where those eggs are!" Lucius demanded. "NOW!"

Suddenly, a blur of purple and gold whooshed off of Jane's shoulder and clamped itself onto Lucius' nose. The wizard cried out in shock and surprise, clawing frantically at his own face. He tore the protective little booklet off of his nose, blood dripping from a multitude of cuts. He smashed the book against the wall. Once, twice, and again.

SLAM.

CRACK!

The book's bindings tore, pages fell to the floor like rain, but the little book simply refused to give up. It clamped onto his hand, ferociously defending his beloved Lady Jane from any and all foes.

SLAM.

Lucius pointed his wand at the bundle of fur, ferocity, and parchment. "Diffindo!"

Heliotrope gave a terrified squeal of agony as his bindings were severed, his covers sliced into confetti from top to bottom. The little book fell to the floor, twitching, and Lucius stomped it viciously with his boot. He wiped his bloody face with his equally bloody hand, flicking droplets of his lifeblood over the stone wall and floor. The remains of poor little Heliotrope gave one last shudder, and then he was still.

Jane was in tears, screaming, crying, sobbing the foulest of curses at Lucius.

Thrum.

Thruuum.

Pulses of energy seemed to rumble through the temple and the surrounding jungle habitat.

Light flashed, and the sky outside seemed to have turned very, very dark, very, very quickly.

Lucius swiftly dodged as something large and shiny whooshed by, quite alarmingly close to his head. He recovered, glaring at Jane as if he had perhaps missed the fact that she was magical. Perhaps, she was yet another Mudblood whore, after all. But Jane glared at him with all the depth of hatred that a loving mother could bestow onto someone who had just hurt her babies.

CRACK!

Lucius went flying backwards as something slammed into his sternum with stunning force and threw him headlong out of the temple and taking out half the wall right along with him.

"I've had more than enough of you, foul spell-flinger," Thor stormed out of the temple, his armor having found him at long last as Mjölnir left his hand to repeatedly smack Lucius in the head, chest and arm before coming to a final, agonising conclusion as it struck him directly in the groin, making the wizard groan piteously and sink to his knees.

Thor stood over him, Mjölnir raised high in his fist. "You have done harm to me, sorceror," he said lowly. "You have caused me pain, but that is just the thing done in the midst of war. But you have also harmed and spoken ill of a lady. That is a crime. You have hurt and killed an innocent creature who did defend her," Thor said, his eyes growing dark. "And you made my lady cry. You deserve nothing less than a slow, painful death."

Mjölnir shined brightly as he brought it down—

Badump.

DUMP!

THUMP!

Thadump!

RAWRRRR!

Chomp!

CHOMP!

Crunch.

RAWWWWWR!

Countless numbers of books piled on top of Lucius, large and small, all of them wanting their pound of bloodied flesh. Lucius' screams of terror and agony were muffled slightly as they bowled him over, bit him savagely in every possible place, and tore into his pale flesh with ferocious abandon. He went tumbling down the temple stairs, books chasing after him and clinging onto him.

Thor stood, frozen in place, Mjölnir still clutched tightly in his hand. His bright blue eyes fixed upon the scene before him— horror and admiration of the books' cleverly vicious battle tactics combined into something else entirely. Thor was truly impressed. Those books might be able to teach even the Warriors Three a trick or two.

Jane rushed up behind him, panting and brushing shreds of rope off herself. "Thor, what—"

She eyed the books.

She eyed Thor.

Then she eyed Mjölnir.

"You… You really are a god."

Loki opened his eyes to find himself— in bed.

He blinked, peering around blearily to find himself in the wrong bed. It was his bed back home— home as in Ásgarðr.

Loki shot up straight, the silken sheets falling softly around him. Warm arms pulled him back, and he relaxed.

Hermione was here.

Everything was going to be okay. He lowered his head to bury his face into Hermione's wild mane of hair and feathers, needing the feel of her against him to chase away the disorientation.

Then he saw the bright blond curls—

Loki immediately bolted up out of the bed, flushing with humiliation, horror and shame. He was no two-timer. He was not an unloyal mate! He quickly threw on clothes, mortified that Hermione might come at any moment and see— and see—

"Ah, there you are, my son. I'm glad you are up. Your father wishes to discuss with your upcoming nuptials with Lady Sigyn. Seeing as she has seen fit to bless us with a grandchild, he wishes for the ceremony to be much sooner rather than later."

Loki turned to see his mother, Frigga, dressed as usual in her gossamer silks, regarding him with with the same affection that she always had for him, even amidst the very worst of his behaviour. "Mother?"

Frigga gave him an odd look. "Am I not your mother, Loki?"

Loki pulled her into a fierce embrace, clasping onto her with no small amount of desperate need. "Mother, I cannot be married."

Frigga held his shoulders, staring up into his tortured eyes. "My son, marriage is all you have talked about ever since you came back to us from exile."

Loki stumbled back in shock. "What?"

Frigga put her hand to his forehead. "I think you still haven't quite recovered from that horrible exile," she said with concern. "I never wanted that for you."

Loki stared into his bed, observing the golden-haired woman sprawled all over it. Her body was flawless perfection. Her skin was perfectly bronzed and looked smooth as silk. Yet, as he stared upon her, he felt absolutely nothing, not even the slightest tug of attraction that would at least suggest that he was a healthy, warm-blooded male of the species. At least, always before, he would have at least some visceral, sexual reaction, but this time, nothing came.

"She means nothing to me," Loki said with a dark scowl that radiated pure distaste. "If she is indeed pregnant, you can be certain that it is not with my seed."

"Loki!" Frigga said, her voice hardening even as her blue eyes went wide with shock. "That is no way to speak of the one you are affianced to!"

"Does she know?"

Frigga blinked. "Know what, my son?"

"Does she know that I am a monster?" Loki replied scornfully.

"Loki, you are not a monster," Frigga scolded him.

Loki's eyes took on a dangerous deep crimson hue. "Somehow, I do not believe that she would agree with you."

"Loki, please, stop it," Frigga said, clasping his arm.

But Loki's skin was already changing, taking on a shade of vivid cobalt blue. His skin rippled, intricate markings rising up from his skin like a raised pattern of scars— shimmering with an odd, almost opal-like iridescence.

A horrific, piercing scream filled the room, as Sigyn leapt up from the bed, a golden dagger clutched within her hand. She plunged it directly into Loki's throat, drawing blood as the blade cut deep into his cobalt skin.

"Jötunn!" she seethed. "What have you done with my betrothed?"

A low, rumbling vibration of mocking laughter seemed to shake the very air within the room. "Do you not recognise me, lover?" Loki purred cruelly. "Shall I wear another form for you? A mare, perhaps? Or would a wolf be more to your liking? I know. You want—this."

Loki's form was fluid from one shape to another, until cobalt scales and lunar feathers warped and flowed over his deep blue skin. His glowing, white, serpentine tongue flicked out as his hissed. Glowing white wings spread from one side of the room to the other as his massive tail and body thrashed, smashing the room to smithereens.

"Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssssssssssssssssssss!" he hissed, bursting free of the room to towering over his terrified mother and even more terrified "betrothed." He pitched back his head and sent out the call— their call, the only call that had ever truly mattered to him.

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnh," he called to her. His wings spread across the skies like clouds opening up over the heavens.

Thrum.

THRUM!

The beats of his powerful wings blew power out from his body, lunar energy bursting through every feather and scale and tearing through—

FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHH!

Magical barriers shattered around them like shards of glass, and Loki's body burst free from the magical trap that had ensnared him. His head snapped around as his golden (and righteously brassed-off) mate hissed furiously as she tore herself from her own magical trap, her enormous body thrashing wildly as bricks, wall, and marble crumbled to bits and flew in all directions, piles of debris coming to a crash landing in every corner of the boardroom.

While he had burst free with a grand show of explosive power, she was breaking free with nothing short of furious, molten rage. Her teeth snapped, and tore, long rivulets of venom dripping from her mouth as she came but inches from a board member's face.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!

She coiled and struck, her body flinging forward as the terrified men frantically cast a volley of offensive spells at her, but the red and green beams deflected off her scales and back onto themselves. Injured, unconscious bodies went flying in all directions, done in by their own desperate actions. Others cowered in front of her, prostrating themselves in front of her and begging for divine mercy as her bright, shining aura burned as brightly as her rage.

Muffled cries and sobbing came from behind one of the broken walls, and Hermione's head snapped around, her golden eyes narrowing in nothing less than pure, burning hatred. Her fangs dripped; her feathers puffed up and out around her head like the frill on a dilophosaurus.

There were women and children hidden in what seemed like— some sort of magical holding cell? Hermione's thrashings had done a number on whatever had held them, and and he leered town at the cluster of terrified people. Her tongue flicked in and out, testing the very air for any hint of treachery.

Hermione hissed, her golden eyes losing their fire as her ire slowly abated. Loki chose that moment to rub up against her, crooning, soothing, and nuzzling her lovingly.

She pulled back, leaving the prisoners to whatever future they might so desire. Prisoners, family, or— Loki really wasn't sure what they really were. Hermione didn't seem to particularly care anymore. Her incandescent rage had finally abated, and she allowed him to calm her with the entwining of his body and soft flicks of his tongue. She snuggled into him, crooning softly. Images of what she had experience flickered across his awareness— pain, loneliness, and death. In that horrible spell, she had been trapped in a world without him, treated as a monster, she had had become the monster, blamed for everything from the weather to the disappearance of children. And in creating a monster, she had become a monster—filled with the ire that had no end.

And, much as he did, she had broken free when rage had mixed with the face of eternal loneliness and despair. While he faced life with woman who could never accept what he was let alone who he was, she had faced a lifetime of calling for the blue serpent that would never come and fear of her had led to a fate worse than death.

Suddenly, Hermione seemed to realised something. She rooted through the fallen bodies, searching.

Loki crooned, trying to calm her, but there was an image in her mind of a tall, blond man with an arrogant sneer and a serpent-headed cane. He helped her look, and found nothing. Hermione's eyes widened and started to glow, and suddenly Loki knew exactly what she was so worried about.

Hermione's tail whipped around his, corkscrewing tightly with his own as her wing slammed into his—

CRACK!

Loki suddenly found himself covered from head-to-tailtip in piled treasure with a Niffler perched directly between his eyes. He went a bit cross-eyed trying to focus as the little creature regarded him with a curiously cocked head, obviously unsure of what to think about the situation. The Niffler carefully placed a pearl necklace upon his snout and patted it, then disappeared.

Loki's forked tongue flicked out to dislodge the necklace in question, and it landed in the pile around their eggs.

One. Two. Three. Four… Five.

Phew.

Mother would be proud to know that he still remembered his basic numbers.

Hermione curled lovingly around their nest, gently crooning to their clutch.

"Hnnnnnnnnnnn."

The eggs all thrummed together in unison. "Nnnnnn!"

Suddenly, a white-blond fur-covered book with cold, icy blue eyes and an excessive amount of dribbling foam around its snarling maw leapt towards the nearest egg—

… just as Mjölnir landed on top of it with a loud, reverberating smack.

The alarmingly rabid-looking book let out a rough, coughing sort of wheeze, having been completely flattened against the stone of the temple, just as Thor and Jane came running up into the nest room from below.

Thor strode up, retrieved Mjölnir and stomped his boot down hard on the offending book. "I take it your appointment was…"

Jane caught up and huffed. "Um, I'm not quite sure who that was, but he seemed to know all about your eggs."

"He wanted them," Thor stated grimly. "Very badly." He put his arm around Jane and pressed his face into her long, dark hair.

"He said his name was… Lucius," Jane recalled. "He had a strange little creature with him. Pale skin, big ears, and a pair of really large, bulbous eyes. It confirmed to him that the temple was the place where Draco's letters had been coming from. Who's 'Draco' … if you don't mind me asking?"

"Draco is the son and only child of one Lucius Abraxas Malfoy," Severus' voice enunciated lowly as he crossed his arms across his chest and scowled down at the former Death Eater turned rabid, frothing book. "Draco is a fine young man and a close friend, while his father was… is… most assuredly, not." He nodded to Thor, who lifted his boot from the flattened book.

Severus picked up the growling book up by the spine, raising an eyebrow as it snapped viciously at his face, wrist, arm, and whatever else happened to be within biting range. The book's almost-white fur stood on end as gobbets of froth flecked over its rabid-looking maw. "Dare I even ask?"

He waved his wand, and a thick, sinewy strand of jungle vine moved to wrap and tie itself around the book's frothy cover, keeping its maw shut.

"Moody suspects that transforming into a book is not something that a mere bite would induce. Something, however, seems to have proven that particular theory wrong."

Jane frowned. "He somehow forced one of the goblins to bring him here. Then cast some sort of spell on me that made me unable to move. Tied me up. He tortured Thor— and— he… he… " Jane choked, fighting back tears. Jane unraveled her blouse, where she had tenderly bundled up the remains of the brave little Heliotrope.

"He defended us. Tore up Lucius' face. He— Lucius— he used some awful, horrible spell, and it shredded him to bits."

Jane's face was very pale and streaked with tears.

Hermione gently nosed the remains of poor Heliotrope with her snout, her tongue flicking in and out as her glowing eyes flickered. Loki nudged Heliotrope's cover too, his breaths ruffling the book's soft fur. Two streams of crystalline tears pooled together from each quetzalcoatl's eyes and down onto the remains of the brave baby book.

"Errrrrhhhhhhhnnnnn," Hermione hummed.

"Nnnhhhhhrrrrreeeee," Loki joined her.

Rustle.

Fibers swiftly knit back together as parchment swirled and mended. Leather healed. Fur fully was restored and made whole as two shining eyes opened wide.

"Skkkiirrr!" Heliotrope bounced about excitedly and gratefully licked the two feathered serpents on the nose, covering their scales with bits and smudges of damp book paste. Golden letters shifted across his spine.

Ancient Healing: A Treatise on the Effects of Quetzalcoatl Tears

Heliotrope shuddered violently.

Pop!

A larger Heliotrope bounced into Jane's open arms and purred happily.

Jane burst into tears again, but they were tears of joy this time. She was hugging and kissing the now not-quite-so-little book and Heliotrope soaked up the love and attention, purring madly, and snuggling into her quite happily.

Hermione and Loki shimmered as their bodies returned to their far-more-human size and shape.

Lucius-book growled and struggled to bite, foaming despite his mouth being clamped firmly shut by jungle vines. His struggles were in vain, however, and resulted in his being soundly and repeatedly smacked senseless by a vengeful Mjölnir, then pinned up against the stone once more.

"Brother," Loki purred. "I see you finally managed to retrieve your hammer."

Thor sighed as he watched Mjölnir pummel the white-furred book into the stone as if attempting to render the two into one. "I think my hammer has somehow acquired a few… anger issues."

"Oh, I don't know, brother," Loki said with an endearingly lopsided grin. "Mjölnir looks like he's dealing with said issues quite well."

"I'm not complaining, especially not after what that disgusting excuse for a man did to you," Jane said adamantly, petting and tickling Heliotrope with gentle fingers. "Not to mention what he clearly intended to do with those eggs and what he did do to our little friend here."

Hermione waved her wand, and her Patronus zoomed away, splitting into three parts and flying off in different directions. She then wove her arm around Loki and dragged him over to Severus and hugged both men tightly, wordlessly burying her face into their combined shoulders.

"Father, how did you even know to come back here?"

Severus sighed, patting Hermione on the shoulder. "Someone apparently destroyed the Board's meeting tower. Imbeciles were running about the school and grounds hysterically screaming that the sky was falling. The likely cause was not too difficult to discern, my daughter."

Hermione clung a little tighter. "Oops."

"Hnn," Severus grunted a reply.

Draco was on the floor, practically drowning in his own mirth, and rolling about the floor, bellowing helplessly in a great fit of nigh-hysterical laughter. "That's what you get, Father, for foolishly trying to threaten Hermione's family!"

Moody was speaking quietly with a group of goblins, all of whom were nodding their heads grimly. Alastor looked utterly disgusted as he held onto a sturdy metal cage containing one snarling, frothing, white-furred, blue-eyed book. Red foiled letters had raised up on the spine of the book to spell out the title: The Pontificating Pureblood's Guide to Arrogant Arseholery. Lucius Abraxas Malfoy was listed as the 'proud' author of said book.

"Do try to breathe, Draco," Hermione suggested kindly. "If you up and die of suffocation now, you'll have the shortest enjoyment of the serving of someone's just desserts in the entire history of the Malfoy family."

Draco lay flat on his back and gasped for breath for several seconds before finally letting out a sigh of sweet, blessed relief. He was then mobbed by a pile of happy furry booklets that took great pleasure in cuddling up to him as he lay supine in the middle of the amazingly fluffy rug.

A happy baby booklet bounced up and down on his chest with a goblet of something foamy in its maw.

"Merciful goddess," Draco blessed the little book, sitting up so he could drink the beverage. "Thanks, little one."

Loki's hand quickly brushed across the goblet, and it frosted over, becoming very cold. Draco, however, didn't seem at all fazed by the sudden change and drank it down in a big swig and gave out a content belch of thorough enjoyment. Thor slapped Draco on the back, and the blond wizard went tumbling into the cough. Draco didn't seem even remotely offended as he giggled with renewed amusement, the little golden book with purple spots bouncing up and down on his rear like a hyperactive toddler on a toy trampoline.

"Mother will want a few or a hundred or so like this lot for her own library," Thor said with a speculative look.

"Somehow, I don't think that will be an issue," Loki mused.

"You seriously need to market this stuff through old Tom at the Leaky," Draco said with enthusiasm, practically shoving his face down into the mug to clean it of every last drop.

"I am rather fond of this buttered scotch as well," Thor said with an approving nod.

"Surely you have something far stronger than that up there where the gods dwell?" Draco asked with considerable curiosity.

Loki plucked the goblet from Draco's hand and sniffed it interestedly. His eyes went half-closed as he seemed to savour the lingering scent. Then he quickly gave it back to Draco, a look of pure predatory focus seeping into his bright crystalline eyes.

"Mfmmmmffffph!"

Hermione gave a soft cry of surprise as Loki promptly descended upon her mouth, right there in front of Merlin and everyone, a low rumbling growl of uncontained desire escaping his throat.

Hermione looked a bit dizzy when Loki finally released her, sanity eventually coming back in a slow, murky haze. "Draco. what the hell was in that goblet?"

"Iced butterbeer, why?" Draco said confusedly. "It's fantastic."

Hermione waved her wand over the goblet and picked it up to sniff it, wafting the scent to her nose as if afraid of what it might do to her. "Huh, just butterbeer."

Draco looked utterly serene, his eyes calculating the possibilities. "I smell a killer marketing opportunity here. We can call it Asgardian Brothers Brewing: Buttered Scotch Liquor. Hrm, wherever will we be able to find two Asgardian brothers to be our branding figureheads?"

"Oh, I suppose we could put out an advertisement in the Proph-MMMFFFF." Hermione found herself being all but absorbed by a gorgeous, highly amorous, cobalt-skinned amoeba. "Or not," she murmured as she gazed up into the hungry crimson eyes of her mate.

A large, ostentatious-looking European eagle owl abruptly landed on the perch nearby and stuck out his leg in a very obvious gesture.

Severus took the scroll off the owl, barely avoiding getting his hand ripped open by the bird's cruel beak. The owl glared at him hatefully.

"Who pissed in your cuppa?" Severus demanded, scowling at the vicious bird, his lips curving into an impressive sneer.

"This is for you, Draco," Severus said, tossing him the parchment scroll with a snort of derision.

"Bloody hell, now what?" Draco moaned in pure aggravation. The little book on his shoulder sprouted two pointed, tufted ears that perked with curiosity. " Draco covered the book with his hand. "Do not learn bad language from me, little guy."

Draco unfurled the scroll and read, his eyes darting back and forth. Then his shoulders quaked, and he crushed the scroll in his hand. A concerned Thor looked as if he was about to put a consoling hand on the younger man's shoulder, but then Draco suddenly burst into a raucous fit of laughter, tears streaming down his face as he quaked in helpless mirth. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

He threw the scroll in question against the shelves, where the books promptly descended upon it, shredding it into pieces with gusto.

Severus began to eye Draco with some concern as well.

"Astoria's father just broke our engagement," Draco said, holding back tears of laughter just barely, but he couldn't suppress the wide grin that spread across his handsome face. "Apparently, the Greengrasses no longer wish to be associated with my apparently "cursed" family. Somehow— they've already been informed of my father's… current condition."

Severus tilted his head as he thought. "Knowing Lucius, he tied that particular contract to his own magical signature— however, if anything should interfere with said signature, whatever contracts he might have bound to himself would have instantly been broken."

" Why would anyone do that?" Draco wondered aloud. "Why fix it so that contracts break only upon your death or some random unexpected tragedy?"

Severus' face was grim. "If Lucius himself couldn't be there to enjoy it, he didn't want anyone else to have the pleasure. Not even his own child."

"Or his wife, my mother," Draco added grimly. "She won't take this well at all. Mother was always keen to keep up our place in society as the family with the most perfect, proper pureblood reputation. Without it, she will surely be— broken."

Hermione placed a comforting hand on Draco's shoulder. "I know she won't want help from me, but is there anything we can do to help you help her?"

Draco shook his head almost sadly. "This is a matter of family honour for my mother," Draco said quietly.

The messenger owl was attempting to peck out one of the booklets' eyes, and the squirming black-furred booklet squeaked frantically in terror. Draco's face darkened in anger, his hand reaching out to snatch the terrified booklet and tuck it safely against himself. Its fur was was a bit ruffled, but the little mini-Grim glomped onto Draco's hand and snuggled against it, purring. He pulled out a bit of parchment, wrote something on it very quickly and hastily tied it to the offending owl's leg. "Now get out of my sight, you nasty feathered bugger," he ordered it, glaring menacingly at the owl in question.

The owl left, but not before hawking up a nasty-looking owl pellet on the floor.

The little booklet sighed in pure relief, snuggling warmly into Draco. Silver lettering appeared on his spine: Friends Are the Family Your Heart Makes.

Draco smiled fondly at the little booklet, gently rubbing his spine and covers with his index finger. "Pity mother still believes all of that ridiculous pureblood rubbish," Draco said with a small sigh. "I think she'd really enjoy having a few booklets around."

A/N: Draco made a new friend. A book friend. Dawwwwww.