Severus drank, because he had to, and made his way around the edges of the party flanked by Nyota. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and his temples throbbed from the heavy drinks he'd been sipping throughout the evening. Despite nearing the blurred lines of inebriety, he still managed to balance precariously on the masterful edge of engaged and disinterested; a precise mix of mingling along the outskirts and occasionally nodding in acknowledgement when someone managed to catch his eye.
The only person of remote interest in the entire populous of the party was Lucius. Lucius' main task at events such as these was to ensure that the present Death Eater's were completely invested in the Dark Lord's plans. The Dark Lord was a master manipulator, but he did not care for anything other than the initial corruption. He loved grand speeches and carefully crafted conversation, the resulting uproar of passion and fiery dishevel a drug as potent as an elixir of unicorn blood, but he preferred navigating the spider web of control even more. All the pieces, all the strings… The perfect order, the perfect design… It was a game far more worthy of a great wizard's time. The tediously boring upkeep could be left to someone else, and it was as if the role was made for Lucius, the cunning politician that he was. Severus relied on him heavily throughout the evening as a distraction from the disgusting events taking place, and from the lioness who's shoulder never ceased brushing against his leg.
It was many ravaged women and a pile of dead and discarded bodies later that his Lord finally approached, whispering in his ear with bloody breath. "Return and claim Hogwarts, Severus. You will be Headmaster. You will be the bearer of the Dark now that the Light has vanished."
Severus' feet brought him to the top of the staircase leading to the dungeon before his mind caught up and forced them to stop. The few torches along the winding walls provided only enough light for Severus to see wispy breath spew from his parted lips. As one puff dissipated, another took its place, and Severus watched himself breathe for a long moment. It stuck like a dagger in his mind, wrenching apart his painstakingly formulated mentality and he crumbled into the trenches of himself, down to where he could feel his humanity like a bleeding heart in his chest.
Fuck.
Just what he needed, now, when he was expected to destroy the very walls around him, now would be the time when he could think only of his fragile lungs, and the taut scars that pulled at the planes of his skin. As if he needed to be reminded that he could hardly keep his eyes open, that his bones could hardly keep him standing, like he needed to be fucking aware that he was very human and all the students were just as much. He'd be ravaging every glimmer of hope and every last ounce of belief in Hogwarts and Harry and freedom, burning the edges of their very souls with every tilt of his wand.
Severus lunged forward and slammed his fist into the stone wall as the rage rose inside him. The lioness growled in response and he ignored her. He spun on his heels and walked briskly towards the Headmasters office. He would seat himself in the golden throne and watch the world burn.
He didn't even need to guess at whatever Albus's last password had been. Something along the lines of "Chocolate Pudding" or "Welcome, Severus the Satist. Enjoy your stay.", surely. No, to his immense irritation, the griffin gargoyle turned obediently to admit him. Thanks for nothing, fucking prick.
Fawkes was there, perched on the back of Albus' chair. For a moment Severus had a flash of panic, the idea flitting briefly through his mind that Albus had somehow been the bloody bird all along. As he dismissed the thought as utterly ridiculous, the bird rustled and hopped once to the edge of the chair before spreading his wings and relocating himself with a few lazy flaps. Mmm. Albus would have never done such a thing. He would have preferred to perch right on Severus' shoulder. It would have given him the best view, and caused Severus the most annoyance (the latter would have been the primary reason for him to do it).
Severus met the bird's eye and approached the desk, moving to sit in the chair. The bird began preening itself, apparently completely relaxed at this new development. Severus sat.
Yet another frustrating reassurance of Albus' grand scheme. It was sure to be the last.
Though, it was curious the bird was even here. Severus remembered vaguely the bird's wailing song as a chillingly melodic background after Albus' death, but he would have expected the bird to permanently depart afterwards to seek out a new master. Not that he knew much about the elusive Phoenix, aside from their uses in a few powerful potions.
He realized then that he had a fist full of the lioness' scruff beneath his bruising fingers. Severus glanced from the bird to the rippling muscle of the predator beside him, unable to refrain from the slightest bit of hope.
"Hermione?" He was on his knees, staring into nothing but spherical amber and a dash of black. "Hermione." It was a pitiful sound of desperation, and at any other time would have been utterly humiliating to hear of himself, but his only response was to scoot closer and cradle both sides of her head, pressing his fingertips in so firmly that they disappeared beneath her fur. "Legilimens."
Severus found himself staring at his own face. It was immediately clear that there was nothing to sift through, to access; the lioness was in the here and now, observing Severus as he kneeled before her. He could feel not even an essence of Hermione through the strong senses of the lioness. She was an expert at the categorization and input of information she constantly gathered, but in the few seconds that had passed Severus was becoming overwhelmed with the strange mind and the flood of sounds and smells of such an intricate and distinct nature, the experience and understanding of which was unique specifically to Nyota.
He knew what it was to be an animal, in his own sense. Experiencing it through another animal's mind while being in a human form was explicitly unnatural, and Severus withdrew himself as quickly as he could, sitting back against the desk behind him to breathe deeply. The nausea subsided, and Severus strode to the private quarters of the office to transform.
Severus paced into the room in an easy, casual gait. Fawkes was gone, he could tell that immediately. The window was open and a slight breeze blew the scent of his departure across his twitching nose.
The lioness rose as he passed the threshold, and he stopped, lowering his head and setting his ears to the side in submission. He would make it as clear as possible that he was no threat. The memory of their last encounter would have the lioness immediately on the defense. Severus' muscles tensed at the thought of the pain he'd caused her… No, no. He had to focus. He had to relax. He would not hurt her again.
He swung his tail low, a pendulum of pure intentions. The lioness had not moved, but her hackles were raised, and Severus waited, allowing her to decide on a reaction.
Her chest rose and she took a step forward. Severus immediately mirrored her movement, taking a step back, bending his forelegs to lower himself to the ground, so that his scapulas rose like arches over his spine. The long scruffs of hair along his chin grazed the cracks between the wood on the floor. Severus held her eye. He was not a lesser, but he was not a threat.
She growled, almost an unconscious verbal expression of worry, but Severus could tell she would repeat it, so he made himself sigh, loud and low, focusing on his mind-scape of lapping waves and cool water over his skin, letting himself relax entirely. Her hackles dropped slightly, and she brought her leg back to stand squarely.
It wasn't enough. It would never work if she felt even the slightest resistance.
Severus waited, all the while staring at her eyes. He watched for a glimpse of recognition, a fucking flicker of something Hermione. She remained the same, leaving Severus no choice but to work with what she was giving him.
He took a step towards her, slowly, then another, not giving her time to get defensive. He wanted her to see him move, to see that he was remaining passive in his approach. She tensed, but allowed his progress, and he made it close enough to her that he could lift his muzzle to her jowls, nuzzling her, drawing his tongue across the low corner of her mouth. Severus was uncertain whether this was a proper approach; it seemed something more wolf then lion, but it was a submissive act regardless; a sacrifice of power and control, a gesture of vulnerability, and it seemed appropriate.
He continued to lick her, pulling at her cheek with his tongue as her hair caught in it's rough fibers, and he made his way to her ear, still slightly crouched as he edged closer and closer to her. The sharp angles of their shoulders pressed together as he ducked his head down along her rib cage, rubbing his ear along her side. He felt her nip experimentally at the loose skin at the base of his neck, and he responded by gently licking her elbow. It was a sensual moment, this entire interaction, and Severus wished it were Hermione and not a rogue lioness that he was experiencing it with. He moved backwards, keeping in contact with the lioness all the while, nose brushing fur and tongue tugging over the curves of muscle, until he was able to bring himself far enough back that he could raise his head slightly, just enough to meet her eyes and "Legilimens," a whisper in his mind and then he was in hers.
It was the same as before, only he was now capable of processing what he felt. A vague sense of worry, a stronger presence of confidence and power and an undertone of comfort. Severus wouldn't find Hermione here. He would have to draw her out.
Severus prepared an image in his mind, a memory of the two of them. Hermione was sleeping, and Severus had her cradled in his arms. He rolled the scent of her hair towards the lioness, the softness of her skin and the upward curve of her eyelashes. The warmth of her body against the coolness of the dungeon bedroom, the fullness of her lips and the flush of blood high in her cheeks leftover from sex.
He thought of how it felt to entwine his hands with hers, the perfect tightness as she squeezed him and the pinch of her nails arching into his skin, the way his fingers nearly reached her wrists and her rapid pulse was thunder against his palm.
He thought of her softness, how easily the acute accuracy of her pronunciation rolled off her tongue, so that she was so charmingly uncertain and gentle while being so damn, unapologetically intelligent.
He thought of her, human in his quarters, and how she'd lain in an exhausted coma on his couch, how he'd tucked her beneath a blanket, brushing against her slumped shoulders, how her hair had lolled, curly and untamed against the plush leather and spilled over the edges onto the floor, tickling his toes as he bent over her.
He thought of the way she pursed her lips and crossed her legs over one another as she burrowed into the couch cushion, completely immersed in a text book, fingers gripping the leather binding and one thumb playing with the corner of the next page before turning it.
He thought of her laugh and the smell of her shampoo and the way she quirked her lip just a bit at the corner and pulled one of her long curls taut when she was feeling awkward.
He called to her, again and again, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione…
Severus had withdrawn from her mind gently, easing back into his own body so as not to startle the lioness with an abrupt absence. She blinked rapidly, then stared at him, then blinked once more, slowly. Then she raised a paw, set it down, and turned and padded beneath the desk to lie in the dark corner. Severus sighed, every atom of his miserable existence heavy and burning. He turned and walked with a dreaded slowness to his new quarters, shutting the door behind him with an angry jolt of his head against the wood.
Severus called the student body to the Great Hall at an ungodly hour of the morning. Every table was shoved back against the wall, chairs stacked upside down over the tops, and the students arrived in an orderly mass, sectioned off by House. The teachers swept in behind them, an expansive line along the furthest end of the Hall, all eyes on Severus, who stood where Albus never would again, his podium discarded without second thought.
"Students. Faculty. Due to the recent… demise… of your previous Headmaster, I have been appointed to uphold the position permanently from this point forward. You will find any resistance to this change in administration to be futile, and any attempts at a more… dramatic… retaliation will be met with expulsion." Severus had no trouble filling the massive space with his rumbling baritone, the deep bass reverberating off the rafters and deep into the fragile little heads of the students before him. "There will be… disciplinary differences… under this administration. Disobedience will not be tolerated. A lack of devotion to one's studies will result in detention. Conspiracy and… aid… in any form offered to Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley will be interpreted as a willful act of terrorism against this institution and that of the entire wizarding world. You will all be monitored for suspicious acts and behaviors; the notion of privacy is henceforth eradicated for the safety of all present here at Hogwarts. I intend to preserve the reputation of this school, and that of it's students and staff, and I will stop at… nothing… to ensure that every witch and wizard present here is upheld to the highest standards. Classes will resume as normal following breakfast. You are dismissed to return… silently… to your dormitories."
Severus turned on his heels, cloak billowing around his ankles as he strode across the platform at the head of the Great Hall, disappearing through the side door. The lioness had sat beside him throughout the speech, following behind him after directing a snarl in the direction of the students.
A/N - Well. This took much, much longer than I anticipated. You all deserve to know, I've been really struggling with my mental health but I've been doing much better recently, so I'm hoping that I won't be going on any more Steven Moffat length hiatuses. Not going to promise though, I've definitely gotten all your hopes up enough and you all deserve much better then that. I hope you enjoy this chapter, admittedly I'm a bit rusty but I put in my best effort and I will keep working to get better and give you all the best finish to this fic! Just a warning, it is going to get (purposefully) dark from here on out (not as a result of my mental health, just to clarify). I've felt very strongly ever since I got the idea for this fic that I wanted to address the realities of war, something that I feel JKR skimmed over a bit considering that her book was intended for a younger audience. You've gotten a taste of it in the last chapter & this one, so that's the direction it's heading. I realize it's been a bit of angst but also quite a bit of fluff so far, so if that's all your interested in I wanted to give you warning before the shift really starts (but of course there will still be fluff and angst and all that good stuff amongst the pain ;)
Anyways, I know I say this every time but seriously all of you that read this, and leave comments, you make my life amazing and are the motivation for me to get my mental health back on track. You help me find the strength within myself to persevere.
Plus you're all so freaking patient and amazing, you leave the best reviews and you point out my mistakes so constructively and I don't know what I did to deserve you. I appreciate every single one of you.
P.S. If any of you are interested in becoming a beta for me, please send me a message. I've been making some really stupid mistakes in my writing and I haven't been catching them. It would be great to have someone to help me out so that I can give you all the best chapters possible without you having to beta me in the comments. Thanks in advance!