Summary: AU, SSHG, Severus has made many choices in life. Some good, some terrible. But when he tears down Hermione for calling Lily selfish, that warm spot he thought was all Lily Evans suddenly disappears. Now, Sirius says he wants to reward his defence of Lily by showing him where he and his mates go some nights. What will he choose?
Beta Love: Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01
A/N: Fanfiction dot net was being a superior jerk last night, thanks to what I can only guess was DDoS attacks, so you lovely folks get a last post of this chapter. Sorry about that.
Not the Best Choice
Chapter Three
When anger rises, think of the consequences.
Confucius
It suddenly dawned on me the next evening, after I had fallen into a deep regenerative sleep, that I knew why Sanguini was always so calm. He was exceedingly practised, to be sure, but his strong bond to his familiar allowed him to keep a level mind even while everything else was going pear-shaped.
Hermione had told me, after I was a bit more focused and coherent, that she was not permitted to be in her true form in places like Hogsmeade due to the high density of innocent bystanders. The entire town was magical, but there were lots of shops there that catered primarily to children and families, and there were bound to be casualties when a giant, pissed off world-wolf blazed a swath through the centre of town with narrow roads and even narrower alleyways, tightly crammed houses, and random old statuaries dating back to the time when the town had first been founded.
While broken buildings could be repaired, broken bodies were, admittedly, much more difficult to put back together.
Hermione's senses were somewhat limited in her human form—heightened compared to a normal person, but not as sensitive as mine. And I—
I seemed to have a specific talent for sensing malevolent magic precognitively along with magic's relevant pathways. Call it tempered by my relentless persecution by Potter and his gang or simply due to the awakening of my supernatural powers, but it was stuck with me.
Or I was stuck with it—
But at that precise moment, with that tingle of imminent danger pointing me directly toward Hermione, I had moved to protect her—she who had always had my back even when I didn't deserve it. And even then, she had placed herself in my hands to ensure that my rage didn't cause me to do something perhaps instinctually sound but ethically terrible.
Like—casting an instinctive, emotion-driven, accidental Killing Curse?!
Like violently tearing my childhood friend's head from her unworthy shoulders—
Was this why vampires had a Council to govern their own? Because no one could hope to understand that kind of instinctual rage but another vampire?
It was clear that those as ancient as Sanguini and perhaps even my father (and I still didn't know how old either actually was) had a kind of power that rivalled vampires described in Muggle fiction. My father had summoned a bloody storm with his rage—controlling both the wind and lightning with ease and deadly precision.
I had thought that was only something found in fictional Dracula stories and not an actual vampire skill. It did make me wonder what would happen if I threw a handful of poppy seeds in front of Sanguini.
Purely by accident, of course.
Only I really didn't want to die that young. I'm sure my father would have helped him murder me for exhibiting that kind of Gryffindor-like reckless stupidity. I really wouldn't blame him, to be perfectly honest. I'd have killed me, too.
Both Tobias and Sanguini were nestled up against their shared familiar reading and filling out the parchments of official paperwork for their actions in defending me, their familiar, and the town of Hogsmeade from the accidental yet fatal burst of magic that Lily's rage had unwittingly released.
Officials had already come to collect our memories so there could be no misunderstandings, but the official paperwork required in such instances was all kinds of horrible.
Under vampire law, Lily was expected to appear before the Council, but since we had all, somehow, not been outed as vampires, they chose to file it as a "Wizarding issue" to be dealt with under Britain's Wizarding laws.
From what I had learned of vampire laws, Lily would likely prefer Azkaban to being mind rolled and put into service as a Renfield—a person so mentally subjugated that they wouldn't even take a piss without being given express permission.
Such things were reserved for humans that did a very special kind of wrong. It was not a common or even a preferred sort of punishment.
The next punishment would have involved letting Sanguini and Tobias decide on an appropriate compensation, and from the smouldering anger that both vampires had towards someone that had tried to take out Hermione—
It would not be a pretty decision.
They were well within their rights to separate Lily's neck from her shoulders just for looking at Hermione wrong under vampire law. The familiar bond was a sacred thing. Only familiars could fight another familiar and only if the other familiar was trying to "cheat" amidst a battle and attempt to help their master fight another master.
Even Perdana had followed that rule by sending his familiar after me—who wasn't a vampire and wasn't a familiar. He'd just been a bit more insidious in sending both his official familiar and his hidden affinity for commanding werewolves in a "suprise!" battle augmentation.
It had been unfair to be sure, but not technically "illegal" by vampire law.
Sanguini could have easily sent in Sabrina and those who were with her to their death to fight and distract Perdana, but Sanguini was not one to throw away a lifetime of fair treatment just to win one battle. For better or worse, he was determined to fight within his own moral compass.
I had to admire that about him. If I had to pick one being that was of the right personality to properly teach and ground a young world wolf—he was, admittedly, the best possible choice.
Suddenly, both Sanguini and Da sat up straight in tandem, and Hermione went bolting out the open door in a tearing hurry, her tail held high. They remained there, reading, scribbling, and exchanging parchments as if nothing was amiss.
I heard the distinctive sound of Hermione's claws clicking against the stone pathways and her heavy pants just before she came sliding back into place with a thump and flop.
A small animated dinosaur fossil of some indeterminate species dangled like prey from her mouth, squeaking in mischief. Sanguini and Tobias leaned back against her furry side, continuing their paperwork log. Tobias held out a piece of smoked jerky, and Hermione promptly spat out the cheeky fossil in exchange. Sanguini used wordless magic to send the errant animated skeleton back to its appropriate shelf.
Tobias licked one finger and turned a page. "Still haven't trained that thing to stop nicking shiny things, have you?"
"Nope," Sanguini said, scribbling down on a parchment.
"Well, at least the wolf makes it much easier to catch," Tobias said.
"Mmhm," Sanguini agreed.
"Oh my goodness, you're so cute!" I heard my mum squeal in delight from the otherside of the room as the animated dinosaur held a book between its bony jaws for her.
"Sucker found," Sanguini announced.
Tobias sighed. "She's always been such a softy."
"There'll be no living with that thing now."
"Nope."
Both vampires rolled their eyes in unison and continued plugging away at the pile of signings.
There was something strangely cathartic about seeing my da and his lifelong friend doing such mundane things while a metaphysical and magical dinosaur skeleton was helping my mum get her favourite book.
I suddenly found myself terribly glad that I was having a second chance at a family that—while most definitely vampiric—contained far better role models than what I'd once thought was the only thing I'd ever have.
The two vampires stood together as if they'd been practising.
Hermione got up, stretched from nose to tail tip with a great yawn, and shook her fur back into floofiness.
"Son."
"Yes, Da?"
"Would you mind taking the wolf for a walk before she starts digging up even more animated dinosaurs from dark and long forgotten places?" Tobias looked serious and a little weary.
I contemplated what to say and finally settled on, "Sure."
I suddenly found myself nudged onto Hermione's back, plastered to her thick fur, as she bounded out the door with quick bounds.
Crack!
We were gone.
I could swear I heard Tobias and Sanguini laughing even as the yank of her Disapparate carried us away.
What Are They Feeding Students at Hogwarts?!
Has someone spiked the pumpkin juice served at Hogwarts, ladies and gentlewizards?
The Ministry is doing its best to squelch the name of the female Hogwarts student who reportedly attempted to to cast murderous magic in the town of Hogsmeade, but I can tell you this much: she is a young witch with flaming red hair and green eyes who currently sits in a Ministry holding cell with other hardened criminals awaiting judgement for their crimes.
Witnesses from the scene have informed me that a male student was overheard asking the furious young witch just who her unborn baby's father was, which is apparently what lit the redhead's fuse and led to the entire emotion-fueled curse fiasco in the first place.
While this girl reporter was unfortunately barred from the ensuing closed Wizengamot session, I will be working nonstop to uncover the truth and bring you all the juicy details of this most scandalous tale as it continues to unfold!
Whose Baby is It?
Unwed witches have never had it easy in our world, but rumour has it that the Wizengamot is going to be more lenient than usual to the witch who used deadly magic in Hogsmeade recently due to the fact that our still unnamed perpetrator is pregnant.
But just who is the proud daddy-to-be?
Good sources tell me that there appears to be two main candidates. Both are prominent pureblood scions who have recently gone before the Wizengamot themselves: Sirius Orion Black, who was sentenced to Azkaban for the attempted murder of a fellow student, and James Fleamont Potter, who was convicted of assault, illegal Animagery, and various other misdeeds, and is currently under house arrest.
Other sources, however, have confided to me that they suspect that those two young wizards aren't the only potential fathers in the offing.
Animagus Paranoia Leads to Potential Passing of Much Harsher Laws
Due to the recent surge in illegal Animagi in the news, many families are pressing hard for mandatory checks for Animagus magic in every year of any Ministry-supported and regulated school or magical workplace.
While no new laws have been put in place as of yet, there are rumours that the Ministry is developing a new way to detect the presence of Animagi.
However, some currently registered Animagi are protesting this, claiming that the bad press and knee-jerk regulations will only penalise those who are duly following the laws already in place.
Memo
From: Bones, Amelia, Head Boss of You
To: DoM, all agents
We are currently training Agent Fenrisúlfr and new Agent Damascus in the detection of Animagus detection for compulsory unscheduled checks due to a surge in information leaks getting to the Prophet.
After that leak of docket information of the last Wizengamot, I want all areas scanned both before the session and before they leave. I want to know exactly how and why any information is getting out of closed Wizengamot sessions.
We need to nip this Animagi paranoia right in the rump before it starts to get even worse than rumours of the war. There is something going on out there that is feeding off all the drama of the students of Hogwarts, and I have a feeling it's attempting to distract us from someone or something far more obvious.
If anyone has any qualified students who wish to join the new training sessions, please have them submit their names as soon as possible. Each team must have an energy sensitive and someone with heightened physical and auditory senses. Candidates will be paired off and trained with their new partner. We are encouraging all teams to have at least one preternatural member to balance things out.
Training starts next week on Monday. Owl Master Brown to sign up for more information.
Auror Ferguson walked by the holding cells and rattled the bars. "You lot settle down in here! Your turn in front of the Wizengamot will come soon enough."
"Hey, why does that whiny little bitch get a chair and a pillow?" one angry voice demanded. "We want them too!"
"She's pregnant, you bloody idiot," Ferguson hissed at the complainer. "Do you want to be pregnant?"
The other prisoner mumbled something indistinct under his breath but soon quieted down.
"You already have a blanket and pillow anyway, so simmer down, shut your gob and go to sleep."
The Auror shook his head and continued to check on the other holding areas after cancelling the Lumos spell on the hall so the lights would dim, allowing the prisoners to sleep.
In a corner cell at the far end of the holding area, Lily sniffled and rubbed her eyes and her stomach, rocking herself slowly as she clutched the pillow to her chest.
After about an hour had passed, loud snores were coming from all the other cells.
There was a soft creak as Lily's cell door opened.
Her head jerked up.
"Come on, Lil!" a familiar voice whispered urgently.
She stared in shock as James' body seemed to materialise from under the cover of nothing at all. He held his hand out to her.
She stood up suddenly, her foot snagging on the bowl she had thrown down in a temper tantrum, and it went zinging against the bars with a resounding CLANG!
She began to sob hysterically as the entire world seemed to be against her.
James gave her a look of silent exasperation as the bubble of his silencing spell faded, and he directed a bubble containing her sounds out the door and away. "Come on, Lils!"
She ran to him with a strangled sob as a fall of sheer fabric covered her from head to toe, concealing her from sight.
The door to her cell quietly closed and locked.
And then they were gone.
Student Fugitive Missing!
Aurors have been in a flurry since Sunday night, when a Hogwarts student awaiting their Wizengamot hearing mysteriously disappeared from their Ministry holding cell. The cell showed no signs of tampering and Aurors on duty at the time reported seeing nothing amiss or hearing anything out of place.
Hit Wizards have been notified, but they must wait for final authorisation from the Minister For Magic to be dispatched given the fugitive's minor status as well as her medical status.
Details about this fugitive have the Ministry annoyingly tight lipped! I, your favourite reporter, will bring you the juicy details as soon as I find them. I will leave no stone unturned to bring the very best news to you!
Hot Off the Presses — Hogwarts Student Fugitive Finally Identified as Muggleborn Student Lily Evans
Potters Report Son James Missing Along With Stolen Family Heirloom—Coincidence or Not?
"I want all of you out there finding this Lily Evans and James Potter before Rita Skeeter sticks her nose into Ministry business again!" Moody bellowed in outrage.
"Evans has been missing for exactly five hours and twenty minutes and somehow that bloody Skeeter cow knew all about it before us! They have wands, we will assume they know how to use them. We don't know if they are allies, but we do know that the Potters are missing their son and a family heirloom and they aren't happy about either! I want everybody out there in a hard-target search of every tavern, residence, estate, garden, cow shed, she shed, he shed, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse, and doghouse in our search area. Checkpoints go up at every Apparition point. Your fugitives' names are Lily Evans and James Potter. Get them before the Minister sends out the Hit Wizards— better, get them before we have to involve the DoM. You don't want to know what their agents will do if they get dispatched. Now GET OUT THERE!"
"SIR!"
The Aurors all Disapparated together with a loud crack.
Moody rubbed the space between his eyes in frustration.
"Looking for something," I asked. "Or are you just browsing?"
The man was standing right in front of my light source, and it was making it hard to finish my homework.
"I'm here to talk to Sanguini," the leather-wearing man said roughly, sounding like he gargled with broken Scottish glass and firewhisky at the same time.
"Do you have a reservation?" I asked. I was almost serious. Everyone wanted to talk to Sanguini lately. Spin a wand or throw a dart to guess what it was they wanted to discuss.
The man gave me a rather unfriendly look.
"He's currently in a meeting," I informed him. "If he's not expecting you, it may be a long wait."
The man growled like a cranky badger with a hangover and sat in my favourite armchair.
I rolled my eyes. At least he wasn't blocking my light anymore.
A Dementor arrived with tea and biscuits, and the man let out a startled yell, aiming his wand at the Dementor and casting an obscenely bright badger Patronus at it.
The Dementor shrieked, dumping tea and biscuits (along with the entire tea tray) into the man's lap before fleeing the room.
I didn't even need to have to look up to know exactly what was coming. I pondered if I should move from my study desk in case his body got flung into the wall thanks to—wait for it.
I was never that good at estimating mass or velocity on the fly, but I was pretty sure that Hermione slammed into the man like a runaway Hogwarts Express and had him pinned against the floor like he was a leathery rug.
She proved it by standing on him with her huge front paws, pivoting her weight onto his pelvis in a brutal crushing motion. The man was groaning in apparent agony—probably from Hermione's hind foot severely compressing his tortured balls.
It seemed like a really good time to finish my maths.
Having been accidentally stepped on by Hermione in her wolf form a time or two, I had a pretty good appreciation for not being within range of her over-exuberant paws.
Or, at least my balls, thank you very much.
Rule number one when living with a world-wolf?
Don't steal her food.
Ever.
Rule number two?
Don't threaten anything she's protecting. (This included food, but since I already mentioned that, I'll just go and group everything else with that)
Rule number three?
Remember that Dementors and a certain Lethifold, while they often helped protect her, she considered them HER protectorate too. See rule number two.
I had finished all of my homework by the time Sanguini and Amelia Bones came out of his office. Sanguini said nothing, but his eyebrows were knit together as he took in the sight of his toppled gaming table and the smashed tea service with much consternation. Amelia wore a fierce scowl worthy of Minerva McGonagall plastered on her face.
"Problems, Alastor?"
Ah, so that was his name. Alastor McCrushedballs.
Alastor let out a pained wheeze.
"Hermione." Sanguini's voice was very soft, like he was trying to coax a plant to grow with nothing more than kind words.
Hermione perked, bounced off of Alastor's much-abused manliness, and trotted over to Sanguini, putting her head flat against his chest so he could properly rub her ears.
Sanguini, of course, complied, and I could see his stress lines disappearing thanks to the strength of their bond.
"I see that you've met my familiar, Auror Moody," Sanguini said dryly.
Alastor wheezed as his body tried to return circulation to his compressed body parts.
Sangini's expression was serious, and that set my antennae for danger up. "Child, would you please take my familiar for a walk?"
Such formal language meant that he had certain things to say in company and did not want any misunderstandings. He rarely if ever referred to Hermione in the third person as "his familiar" unless he wanted us to pay very close attention to what he wasn't saying.
"Of course," I agreed, and I attached the mock collar and leash around her neck that told innocents who didn't know any better that the "big monster" was "under control."
Hermione made a big show of slobbering on me as I put on the leash set, and we went out the front door.
The last thing we heard was Sanguini saying, in a voice rife with displeasure, "Auror Moody. What emergency would have you appearing at my door to abuse our Dementors, be rude to my household, and set my familiar's defensive instincts into overdrive?"
Hermione perked immediately after we left the house, and while both of us had perfectly functional supernatural hearing, Hermione was also perfectly happy to not pay attention when her master wanted her to do so.
I admired that in her—
It took great effort for me to not listen when I was being barred from information.
However—
I had been convinced of late to trust when Sanguini or Tobias sent us away that they did it for good reason. Especially after Tobias had sent us away and I listened in anyway, only to eavesdrop in horror as my Da asked Sanguni for tips on how to pleasure his wife after a prolonged lack of practice.
I was learning—
Slowly.
That if I didn't trust those I was supposed to, then I had certain issues I needed to confront to figure out how and where it was breaking down.
For a recovering Slytherin, it was very counter-intuitive.
As a new agent for the DoM in training, I had to be able to trust my commanding officer—namely Amelia Bones—and if she told me to jump, then I had better be jumping before I even thought "so, when do I stop exactly?"
It made me respect those like Amelia Bones all the more. She didn't demand respect; she earned it. Those under her had soon learned that she deserved it. She was rather stern but always very professional, and by the book until she had to cast the book into the flames and fly in the dark in order to keep her people alive.
It was far more responsibility than I ever wanted.
Did I crave respect? Of course.
Did I want to herd the screeching horde of cats that was the entirety of the DoM?
Hard pass.
Did I want to be the master of my own line like Sanguini?
Hell no.
Vampires were even worse than cats. They were like homicidal cats with laser beams mounted on megalodons straight out of a Muggle sci-fi novel. The fight with just Master Perdana's tiger was enough of that kind of vampiric drama to last a bloody lifetime.
I was actually relieved that I was considered a member of my Da's Get, and therefore he had to do the heavy lifting along with Sanguini since they were blood-bound allies from a time when being alive or undead were both much more challenging.
Much like a pair of male lions with a shared pride, they worked together to protect all of their people, both vampire and non, watching each other's backs throughout the ages.
I had done far worse in my considerably shorter life while just attending school. I knew my dysfunctional upbringing had made me the perfect paranoid self-preserving Slytherin poster child.
But I was starting to see that I didn't have to limit myself based solely on where a magical hat had placed me. Did I possess ambition? Sure. Cunning? Quite probably.
But being a Slytherin didn't guarantee successful world domination any more than it could keep Crabbe and Goyle from epically botching a basic first-year potion even while trying to follow the instructions.
And being Gryffindor didn't guarantee one's bravery or chivalrous behaviour.
If anything, as much as I hated to admit it, Hufflepuffs were far more inclined to reflect their house's primary traits of hard work, patience, loyalty, and fair play than the other houses. I'd known a few Ravenclaws that had heads full of book knowledge but couldn't even manage to figure out what to wear the next day or tell a witty joke if their life depended on it.
But it was super rare to find a Hufflepuff who was lazy or disloyal—patience, okay, maybe not, but do you really expect a hormonal adolescent to be unfailingly patient?
If anything my experience taught me that you couldn't judge anyone by a classification alone. Hermione was a great example of that. She'd been sorted Slytherin, but the hat had wanted to put her in Gryffindor. She'd threatened to set the hat on fire and forget to put it out.
Part of me thought, "Well if THAT didn't prove she was Slytherin, nothing would."
Hermione perked as she spotted the roaming ice cream vendor, and with a strong yank of the "leash" we were headed toward the poor wizard.
The wizard's eyes widened as he saw a few tons of giant world-wolf romping towards him at the speed of a rampaging locomotive. He had a large blueberry ice cream cone branished in front of him like a shield within seconds.
Hermione screeched a halt and then very gently licked that cone with relish as I caught up and asked for a peppermint cone and handed him some coins.
I took the cone from the poor wizard as she continued to lick it, and I licked mine in the other hand.
"You're insufferable," I told her.
Hermione wagged her tail as she continued to lick her cone.
A trail of excited kids came to patronise the ice cream wizard, and they enthusiastically wanted to share it with Hermione.
She obliged them because it was the most polite thing to do.
She was such a ham.
After entertaining the littles, Hermione seemed ready to terrorise the gnomes that kept trying to move into the gardens where a group of DoM witches and wizards grew specialised produce for the DoM. Some brilliant idiot had brought in gnomes because he had them in his garden back home, so surely we'd want them at the DoM.
That wizard had been Obliviated and sacked, transferred to Abu Dhabi's Ministry Office, and packed up and moved out in a manner of hours of discovering their guilt.
Ever since then, Hermione's side job was patrolling the garden and eating the pests.
Hermione tore after a plump looking gnome, its oddly shaped rugby ball head wobbling as it tried to make faces at her to deter her.
It may have worked for some humans, but it was clear in a matter of seconds that Hermione didn't care how insulting a gnome was when it was an invasive species. Her sharp teeth snapped, and the gnome was taken, shaken, flipped, and chewed aggressively before swallowing.
The DoM had considered moving in some Jarveys to take care of the infestation, but then they would've had to deal with however many snarky, rude Jarveys.
So, Hermione's new side hustle was eating all the invasive pests in the DoM's expansive garden patch, and she told me the gnomes tasted a lot like peanut butter truffles. She'd also offered me one, but I respectfully declined.
She seemed to think I was turning down a real treat, and she proceeded to chew on them enthusiastically while giving me a heavy dose of peanut butter breath.
So, maybe they really did taste like peanut butter, but I wasn't about to wrap my mouth on one. Ew.
Sometimes, Hermione would go out with her parents, and would tear across the gardens together, snapping up gnomes and then eating them in front of all their terrified friends—though, to be fair, garden gnomes were every bit as dumb as the potatoes they resembled, and they didn't even remember what they did five minutes ago. So they'd be back up and running around not remembering that Hermione was a danger until, well—
They were wolf chow.
And then it didn't matter anymore.
Hermione merrily bounded back to me, her breath smelling unsurprisingly peanut buttery, and she lay her head on my head like a rest, tail held high with assertive victory.
I patted her neck and grunted. "Come on, I'm sure Sanguini has finished having his say with Auror McGruff."
Hermione snorted wolfishly at the name, but I could tell she was amused.
The sudden mental image of a pair of walnuts being crushed with a nutcracker filled my mind, and I practically choked on air.
I gave her a glare, and she just wagged her tail innocently.
Despite her justifiable anger with Alastor's rudeness, my own balls felt a twinge of sympathy for the man's wolf-abused cobblers.
Did she understand that just thinking about that sort of thing was a bit uncomfortable for males? Oh, she definitely did. Her tail was wagging back and forth in unmistakable glee.
We returned to Sanguini's residence in a few minutes, and I dutifully took off and cleaned the mock leash and collar that had been covered in bits of weeds from her wild romp in the garden.
Suddenly I felt that tingle, but it wasn't coming from inside. I tapped Hermione on the side, gently tugging on her fur with my hooked fingers.
She was immediately all business, following the tug of my fingers to guide her to where she should focus her senses. We'd done many of these exercises together, but I had never felt that danger tingle since we had started training. I wanted to think that all the reports of epic battles had ended the drama for a little while at least, but something wasn't right.
I tried to sense what my initial senses had picked up on in a more focused manner, but something seemed to be interfering with my perception. And yet—not completely.
It was so confusing. Hermione lifted her head and snuffled the air, her ears flicking about wildly as they tried to home in on something undefined that had been flagged as a threat by my senses.
Hermione picked up my hand in her mouth and gently bit down, not enough to break the skin but enough to focus me. I jolted, my brain startling into response, and then I realised what she wanted me to do. I reached for the medallion under my shirt and clasped it tightly, turning its hidden mechanism and then pressing the exposed button.
Better to err in favour of safety than regretting not sounding the alarm in the aftermath of something awful that could've been avoided.
Almost immediately, we heard Manfred Morgan's alarming SCREEEEEE in response—the sound that even the youngest child in the DoM knew meant hide, take cover, and be silent.
"Fuck!" I heard someone curse from somewhere nearby. "Someone alerted the bloody dragonbat!"
"There's no way he knows—"
"Be quiet!"
"We need to—"
"BE QUIET!"
A pale hand went around my mouth and jerked me backwards, and I immediately sagged when I recognised the familiar scent of my father on his skin. Sanguini was there as well, his golden eyes intently scanning the scene. He nodded to me and Tobias, and Tobias let go of my mouth after he was sure I wasn't going to say anything.
"Get them," Sanguini said.
And Hermione tore off into the arboretum with a vicious snarl even as the great beats of powerful wings shadowed the light from above like the moon passing over the sun.
Hermione let out a resounding howl even as Manfred's SCREEEEEE uprooted trees from the ground, shredded bushes, and even toppled a few statuaries. Stone-paved pathways turned to dust.
Now, I knew that Manfred Morgan was the DoM's best known secret weapon within the DoM. It was hard not to be aware of the giant ancient dragonbat that preferred mangos to human hearts and enjoyed having the littles jump and climb over him as opposed to terrorising entire civilisations. But even though he was well known, many thought the rumours were wildly exaggerated and that Manfred couldn't possibly have been a real god at one point. Many just thought he was a dangerous XXXXX beast or perhaps a mutant of some sort—well trained, but otherwise only dangerous to a point.
Until recently, Manfred had gone into combat only once in the last hundred years. That was when a nutter called Wendell the Weird (allegedly a second cousin twice removed to Wendelin the Weird) had attempted to force his way into the DoM using deathrays (rays as in the sea creature, not Muggle sci-fi lasers) and a sack of Muggle hand grenades stolen from some war that had been going on at the time—
Let's just say it hadn't ended well—for Wendell, that is, and by the time Manfred was finished with him, weird just wasn't a good enough word to describe what was left of Wendell.
To this day, there was a saying that went something like "Wee Wendell the Weird was woebegone, not wily." It basically meant, "Don't be a sodding idiot like that Wendell bloke."
Someone apparently hadn't gotten the memo.
"Reach your senses out from your heart," Tobias murmured in my ear. "Imagine a string extending from there, connect it to your mind's sense of that warning tingle and then cast it out like a fishing line. Let the string tell you which direction to go."
I closed my eyes and tried to do as my father was instructing me. It was still a bit hard to fall into the immediate "must obey" mindset because my mind was still fighting to come to grips with the reality that my father Tobias was not actually a glassy-eyed moppet who was hen-pecked by my not-mum.
I tried to imagine Hermione's total devotion to them—how she would just let herself immediately respond to their requests or commands and then sort out the reasons later.
At Hogwarts she had seemed the complete opposite of that, questioning everything, waving her arms about in class—many of our fellow classmates had found her absolutely insufferable.
Sanguini swept ahead, having already homed in on what he needed to go forward, and I hissed with frustration.
"No," Tobias warned me. "Do not allow any temporary frustration to cloud your accuracy."
I struggled. Even in the midst of an emergency, he was trying to temper my impatience—and that is what sobered me enough to focus. If a vampire made a mistake and let instinct drive him forward, innocents could die. While vampires weren't all saints to be sure, they were very careful as to what would potentially alert mortals around them of their presence. So, I had to be able to do everything while playing the part of someone who had no supernatural senses at all. Someone could be watching.
Again, that moment clued me in as to why having Hermione around was such a boon to them—
They could quite easily "blame the wolf" for the heightened senses or their reactions. Mortals would believe that far easier than the supernatural. Hermione could masquerade as a talented "dog" to the untrained eye very easily with no one for the wiser.
The magical sensory web I had been unknowingly crafting soon snapped into place and I felt it do so with bell-like clarity.
"Now, send a neural stun down the line with everything you have," my father directed, and for the first time in my life, I did exactly what I was told without question. I just did it.
There was a cut-off yell from a bit off, and we took off running to where it came from.
And suddenly we were there—my feet having arrived faster than I had been able to track.
The old dragonbat was leering at a line of people they had gathered, and Hermione was laying right in front of the only exit, using her massive bulk to discourage even the most foolhardy of idiots.
Auror Moody stood next to Amelia Bones, clearly waiting for our arrival. His lips were tightly pursed as if he'd swallowed a cactus.
"Well, might as well show me what you can do, agents," he said gruffly.
I glanced at Madam Bones and saw her nod at me. "Let's make this a little more interesting, shall we?" she said with an arched brow. "Those he finds guilty, the wolf gets to eat."
Hermione eyed them and licked her chops.
I closed my eyes, forcing my heart to rise from my feet under the stress of making the right choice.
I felt the tendrils of Hermione's awareness as they joined with mine, and I opened myself to the working bond that I had always, tenaciously, striven hard to keep to myself. I couldn't trust. I couldn't open myself.
If I opened myself up, I could make another mistake like I had with Hermione and Lily. I could ruin everything.
Again.
One more mistake in a sea of missteps.
But when I opened the door against the pressure—as if I was trying to fight back an opposing sea—I felt an indescribable warmth flow into the cracks in my soul. It was Hermione—her scent, her heat, her life, her faith in me.
Her—
Her love.
Tears flowed unchecked down my cheeks as I felt the love that flowed between Sanguini and Hermione and Tobias—my mum too, even though she was clear on the other side of the DoM.
How can this be? She said she would never forgive me.
Never.
Never.
Tobias' voice was deep within me. "My son, do you truly believe we never say things we do not mean a second, a day, a week after? That our lives do not contain any regrets at all?"
The tooth that was hidden underneath my shirt, wrapped securely in magical cord to ensure I never lost it, began to glow brightly. Aurora borealis swirled around as the sound of a great wolf howl sounded in my soul.
My tear filled eyes opened, blinking back tears mixed with blood.
And she was there in front of me, her tongue laving across my face.
"I accept your courtship," her mind-voice said, clear as a sunbeam in a stormy sky.
My eyes widened. I had never heard her voice while she was in wolf form. Not once.
"You were not yet ready," Hermione said sadly, "to trust me."
I wanted to protest. To deny—but I knew it was true. It wasn't that I couldn't trust her. It was that I couldn't even trust myself. I had to be able to trust myself to open the gates to trust another. I had been working on it ever since I'd arrived in the DoM, but this had been the first time I had opened myself enough to trust my own abilities, trust my father, and—trust that Hermione wouldn't use my faults against me as I had used them against her.
The purity of her trust, her warmth—it filled my tortured soul to the rim and overflowed, and the awareness of the cord of power sparkled in my vision as it tightened between us as it tied her to Sanguini and to my father. Yet, there was no jealousy. No competition. The love was so pure that it touched us all equally, bringing security and groundedness to a partnership that would last as long as they did.
And there was love enough for me too—
Even with my history of mistakes and poor life choices that had led me on a runaway Hogwarts Express into a world of utter chaos.
I pressed my forehead to hers, drawing my hands across the soft fur of her muzzle. "I love you," I whispered softly.
Hermione licked me right between the eyes with a long wet slurp.
My awareness snapped back into the present, and my power surged. I saw all the colours of the rainbow swirling into the magical pathways around each person in front of me.
Some of them were what I would consider healthy neutral or rather healthy magical.
But there were a few that had much darker, wavering auras. Cords of Dark magic tethered them together to another that was not even nearby. The magic had a strange, sickly, sticky feel to it. The stench of rotting flesh permeated it as if it were a true scent and not just a sense of the energy involved. It made me want to shove a lemon up my sinus cavities and rub it in with vigour.
I felt Hermione tensing up like a coiled spring, ready to leap at my direction, but I did something that, again, I had absolutely no practice with. I opened my mind up to Sanguini and Tobias at the same time and projected what I had felt and seen to them, just as I had with Hermione.
Sanguini's mind was, as I suspected, highly organised and structured into compartments, his nature as a vampire was but a skill set rather than a condition. Tobias' was more organic and fluid, his mind shifting on the fly to adapt to situations as they came along—engulfing one situation like an amoeba or pushing another aside as insignificant. Together, however, they worked smoothly like a well-oiled machine, lending each other their strengths and insight into facing what came in powerful unison.
I felt Sanguini and Tobias' mutual approval at my sharing, but they held back in saying anything. I knew at that moment, they were waiting for me to make my own path in this coming of age to my powers.
When I opened my eyes again, I clearly saw which targets matched up with my sensations of unnatural magic. My lips curved as I tasted their fear in the air.
Hermione's tail arched high like a flag, and her jaws opened wide as anticipatory saliva drooled from her elongating teeth.
I smelled their fear, and it whet a different sort of hunger in me that I hadn't yet experienced until that point.
Hermione, oh so subtly, pressed her furry rump up into my hand, and that hunger faded along with the predatory need to go for blood for no other reason than it would have felt really, really good.
Realising she had saved me from myself, I refocused and pointed to the tree behind the group of people, making it look like I was pointing at each person.
"Kill," I said quietly, pushing all emotion out of my eyes and face.
Hermione instantly leapt in a flash of movement!
I felt the pull of power from Sanguini and Tobias at the same time, and they yanked the "normal magical signatures" out of the path of the wolf in a split second, rolling their minds to stun them, and depositing them right at McSquishedballs's feet.
The remaining people, however, all turned on each other, each shoving whoever they could in the path of the wolf. They used a plethora of forbidden spells, Unforgivables, and creative use of slicing hexes to sacrifice each other to the danger.
Hermione's jaws were bloody, and I could see the glint of her special cocktail of saliva that could help her digest everything from flesh and bone to Sanguini's poor dragonhide dress shoes. I saw how it spread through her bitten victims like an insidioua kind of venom, sewing chaos as it nullified their magic so she could better "neutralise her prey."
Before this, I would have never known it had such power, but now that I was more in tune with the ebb and flow of magical pathways, it couldn't have been any clearer.
Whether it was naturally permanent or not, I wasn't sure, but I felt Sanguini and Tobias bite their wrists and exchange blood, calling on a specific vampire power and channelling it through Hermione's body.
I saw her natural weapons become even stronger, and the wounds she inflicted on her victims steamed and burned. They dropped their wands, screaming as their skin seemed to writhe and crack—
And then the elder vampires' magic streaked through the sickly, rotten magical link to whence it originated.
The screaming wizards fell flat on their faces, stunned silly, but their bodies were left strangely pristine as if nothing untoward had happened. Their auras of magic seemed to be much closer to normal now. Their auras were still noticably darker than average, a clear sign of wizards that had been dabbling in the shadier side of magic, but that unnatural core of decay was no longer upon them.
Hermione thumped her head against Sanguini and Tobias, rubbing the top of her head against their chests and then sat down, tail thumping.
The two vampires split the ears between them and rubbed.
"Good wolf," they crooned together.
"Well done," Amelia said. She stared at Moody, giving him a significant look.
Moody tugged at his collar and cleared his throat. He nudged the unconscious wizards over with the toe of his boot and stared at the hollowed pit dug into their left forearms in the shape of a skull and snake—the mark of a Death Eater.
"I suppose you're all right. I apologise for my rudeness earlier."
Hermione bonked her nose into mine and wagged her tail.
I sighed heavily and rubbed under her chin. "You are forgiven."
The tooth around my neck glowed a brilliant spectrum of colour once more and I found myself on all fours sporting a thick coat of black fur and a back queue of confusion bouncing around my skull as a flood of senses hit me at once.
Sanguini tilted his head to the side. "Congratulations on obtaining your animal form," he said, deadpan. "Usually doesn't happen until you've lived about a hundred years, but we'll just chalk this up to a stress activated skill."
Tobias let out a put-upon sigh. "Bloody hell, even more paperwork. This is coming out of your allowance, son."
I blinked at that. "I have an allowance?" I asked mentally.
Hermione didn't say anything, but her tail wagged with mischief as she pounced me into the ground.
Death Eater Revel Gone Very Wrong: Snake-Faced Dark Lord Wannabe and His Followers Keel Over In Front Of Shocked Guests!
St Mungos became a high-security hospital this week after the wizard many claim has been terrorising various establishments with his recruitment parties suddenly keeled over along with all of his fellow revellers.
A number of bodies were transported to St Mungos by reluctant by-standers, many of whom admit they would have far rather left them to drown in their firewhisky and elf-made champagne.
With this remarkably strange turn of events, Aurors have reported a steep drop in acts of violence, coercion, and general law-breaking almost overnight.
Dark Marks were found on the left forearms of all of the afflicted (save for the snake-faced man who was reputedly a rising Dark Lord) so as soon they were declared medically stable (albeit unconscious) they were immediately transferred to Azkaban prison to await trial—provided they regain consciousness and are deemed fit to attend.
Hermione was laughing at me. It wasn't malicious laughter, but my head was smashed against my rump and I was upside down, somehow.
Awkward.
It was proof that just because I managed a shift into a wolf it did not mean I knew what the hell I was doing.
I felt Hermione's warmth at my attempts to coordinate where my head and my arse were, but I was just glad Lupin wasn't there to witness my rather embarrassing dysfunction.
Mr and Mrs Granger were there to help me out, too, and they treated me like a young pup that had just been whelped. They licked me over, nudged me like wolf putty until my limbs ended up in the right position, and then I promptly fell flat on my face like a newborn gazelle—only worse because I'm pretty sure a newborn gazelle would be infinitely more coordinated than my dysfunctional arse.
Thankfully, much like Hermione, the Granger parents were wonderfully patient and helpful, and I was luckily able to get a crash course in lupine body language.
While I had mentally noticed a few things as a base human, there was a lot connected to my nose that also connected to body language at the same time—and it was so overwhelming with all the different senses slamming at the same time.
I had even more respect for Hermione's self-control while being inundated with sensory overload. Mind, she'd been born with all those senses, but just from the memories of sharing Hermione's first excursion on her quest to find Sanguini—she had already been master of her senses even as a young pup.
I, on the other hand, had a lot of work to do.
The memories of Hermione's adventures to find Sanguini, however, did help me coordinate a little once I got over the initial confusion. Hermione's senses were, however, decidedly sharper—perhaps a gift in being born of the world wolf Get. I suppose if you are, in fact, descended from an actual god, well, it would make that quite understandable.
Hermione, and her parents as well, had the ability to absorb attacks made against them and assimilate them into her own arsenal.
Perhaps, I mused, it was why the traditional mythological stories of Fenrisúlfr had described the gods as being terrified of His abilities.
But, the beautiful irony of the old Norse stories was that if they hadn't paid so much attention to what Fenrisúlfr could have done (like killing Odin during Ragnarök) they would never have attempted to bind him and thus betrayed His trust and kindled the hate inside of Him. Prophecy rarely gave an exact roadmap of how one's doom would happen, if ever. Their actions had created a self-fulfilling prophecy, inadvertently sealing their own doom in trying to prevent it.
I had never been one to put much weight in prophecy, but I knew that many did. Lily would always follow such columns in Witch Weekly, and lament that her days were horrible because some witch predicted she'd trip over a rock because of of some unlucky alignment of whichever planet or else she'd fail her test because so and so—
She'd obsess so much over it that she'd end up tripping over a random rock, end up with a horrendous migraine, and fail her test as a result of a savagely pounding head—
I managed to do some steady jumps and bracing with Hermione and her parents, as well as some bursts of running full tilt and stopping. It wasn't some grand show of greatness, but it was good not to completely fail at it by slamming into a tree or tripping over an inconveniently placed park bench.
Some of the littles decided they wanted to hug me like they hugged Hermione or her parents or even Manfred, and I was stuck in place with children hanging all over me, petting me, and generally carrying on.
Hermione seemed to catch on that I was very uncomfortable with all the unaccustomed stimuli, and she nudged them out of the way, snatched another one up by the collar, and somehow managed to make the merciful extrication look like she was jealous of all the attention.
I'd have believed it—if I hadn't felt her determination to help make me more comfortable.
Some of the children tried to feed her chocolate, and she would hold the treats in her mouth out of sheer politeness and then stealthily spit them out into a shrubbery. I could taste the offensive bitterness that her tongue experienced—and it almost put me off chocolate for life.
After the children left, Sanguini sprayed water into her open mouth to assist her with the exorcism of the remnants of chocolate from her taste buds, and her relief was a great warmth in my mind.
I managed to rise up onto two legs instead of four without getting too tangled up, and the sensation was a lot like trying to squeeze through a small space between the door and the floor. While I hadn't done that, I imagined the sensation would be much the same.
Sanguini soothed Hermione's ears and smiled. "Time to finish your studies, child. Playtime is over."
Hermione whufted, her tail sailing in the wind as she bolted away, and I knew it was time for me to return to my academic study as well. I found myself thankful for the chance to make things right.
Not just with Hermione, but—
To set my life on a path that had nothing to do about being powerful for the sake of fear and respect but to grant me the ability to protect those I cared about.
I now had something to live for rather than something to prove.
Snake-Faced Wizard Identified: Tom Marvolo Riddle
The origin of the one many called the "Dark Lord Voldemort" has been traced back to a most inauspicious beginning, that of a troubled half-blood orphan who was rescued from a Muggle orphanage by none other than current Hogwarts headmaster Albus Dumbledore.
While getting information about Mr Riddle from his former professors and even from Dumbledore himself was nothing short of pulling a Thestral out of a fruit orchard, I, your most devoted girl reporter, have discovered the true facts!
Tom Riddle was born back in 1926 to a Muggle, Tom Riddle Senior and a pureblood witch, Merope Gaunt—a woman who, get this dear readers—used a love potion to ensnare the wealthy man's affections. But, one day she apparently missed a dose, and Riddle Sr left her despite her being pregnant with his child. She died after giving birth to her son, and he was raised in an overcrowded Muggle orphanage called "Wool's Orphanage."
In 1938, Albus Dumbledore brought him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he was sorted into Slytherin. He reinvented himself, leading others to believe him a pure-blood, gaining many followers through manipulation and perhaps even the insidious seduction of Dark magic, and rose to become "the greatest sorcerer" Britain had ever known.
Instead of using his hated birth name, he forged it into a new identity "V-O-L-D-E-M-O-R-T" and did whatever he could to grow and expand his power and secure what he believed would be: his immortality.
Only somehow, dear readers, something as yet unknown took him and his many followers out in a great feat of magic that no one seems to believe could have possibly happened! Many believe the real "Dark Lord Voldemort" is still out there, lurking in the shadows, biding his time, and waiting to strike again, much like Gellert Grindelwald of old.
Even the much-vaunted Dumbledore has been heard whispering to himself in his great tower in Hogwarts that Tom will return one day.
Is this simply paranoia? Or does the notoriously secretive old man know something that he's not telling the rest of us?
Rumour has it, readers, that Dumbledore personally arranged for the escape of the Potter brat and the Muggleborn Gryffindor princess in a bid to bring down Tom Riddle in the future, but since when is he a seer?
Stay close, readers, and I will bring you even more dirt on this most shocking conspiracy!
Time passed, and with it years, and I can't even say I remember all that much of it. There was a certain amount of drama thanks to the Prophet, but it all seemed like someone was gleefully digging through someone else's dirty laundry rather than reporting any real news.
As Hermione and I stood together as fully fledged independent agents of the DoM, I felt like it was only just yesterday I had been attacked by a released werewolf.
The news kept reporting on the supposed hidden secrets of Albus Dumbledore—a man who, despite it all, managed to skate free of charges about secretly harbouring a werewolf due to the hidden Lupin in the DoM. Lupin, as long as he remained in the DoM, was allowed to avoid Azkaban as a murder weapon—willing or not. Wizarding law was pretty cruel to werewolves no matter how "nice" they were the twenty-seven other days of the month.
Inexplicable fires had sprouted up in oddly random places, if you were one to believe the Prophet. Rita Skeeter had labelled it a conspiracy, but a woebegone little shack burned down outside an equally forgettable village. Gringotts had reported that one of their vaults melted down, but it had been the Lestrange vault—a vault that hadn't been accessed in some time due to the whole sodding family going into a coma on the very same day. There was supposedly a big explosion and fire at Hogwarts, too, but I'd gone there for enough years to know that students blew things up on a near daily basis. What was one more titanic explosion?
Abraxas Malfoy's favourite hunting cabin had apparently burned down as well—his old family library going up with it. Lucius seemed distinctly relieved, and on the few times he visited the Ministry, I'd met up with him. His father had been one of the mysterious coma cases, and this had turned out to be highly beneficial for Lucius' health. I had a feeling the old man had Lucius under a very ruthless thumb, but seeing Lucius with colour in his face and his hair looking less like he'd been scared witless by a ghost proved more than enough to me.
As usual, Lucius was still utterly polite to Hermione, even out of school. I had always wondered why he treated a supposed Muggleborn with anything more than dripping scorn, but he always held his wand close when it came to that particular bit of information.
Lucius was talking about something insanely boring, and my brain was down for the count with a gone fishing sign hanging from my frontal cortex. I saw Hermione chatting amiably with Narcissa near the punch bowl which was happily dragonbat approved.
Manfred was apparently very talented at making fruit punch.
Hermione reached into her robes and handed Narcissa a vial and I recognised it as the potion she had been working on almost every day for the last year and a half. I hadn't really thought much about it since we both had potion projects that we had to babysit for weeks, months, even years. This was a very special one, though—
She'd had me punch her directly in the face while in human form so she could put her own tears in it.
"The hell, woman! I will not punch you!"
"Severus, I need you to do it. I can't do it to myself, and chopping onions won't work. It has to be from someone I love!"
"Have Sanguini punch you then!" I protested as my brain came crashing to a halt, reversed, and then jumped off a cliff. "Wait, you—what kind of love?" I demanded.
Did she mean brotherly? Bondmate love? What kind of love? Real love? Wait, wasn't every kind of love still love? Fuck.
"Sanguini and Tobias can't do it! They are soulbound to me!"
"What does that have to do with it?" I demanded. We'd been officially courting since the great battle of McCrushedballs' Ego, also known as the ignominious downfall of Tom Riddle, but verbally saying the word "love" sent me into spontaneous convulsions, both physical and mental. I just— I couldn't—Nnngh.
Every time my mum and dad kissed, I practically threw the Tome of Perpetual Darkness at them.
It was terribly ironic considering I'd have done a lot to see my parents show one little bit of compassion to each other when I was growing up, and now that they were actually doing it, I wanted to flee screaming into the hills.
And somehow, watching Sanguini and Tobias share blood with each other didn't do the same thing, even though, mentally at least, I knew it was about as intimate as vampires got.
"You can say it, you know," Hermione said.
"Stop reading me!"
"I don't have to read you! It's all over your face!"
"Then don't look at my face!"
"What am I supposed to look at you, your feet?"
"Yes! No!" I spun around in frustration, but my elbow clocked her right in the nose and spun her around.
Hermione held her face, tears running down her cheek, but she carefully held her hand over her nose to keep the blood out of her tears. She leaned over the collection tube and let her tears slide into the edge and down.
She stood up, her blood having already stopped, but her face looked like I'd taken a bat to it rather than my bony elbow.
"Thank you!" She said, her voice a little distorted.
I stood there, dumbfounded, unable to even think of a coherent sentence. Finally, I just took her into my arms and crushed her against myself, pressing my face into her curls as the scent of her blood and spice soothed my frazzled nerves.
Narcissa tucked the phial into her robes and flung her arms around Hermione with a spontaneous cry, and Hermione stood there uncomfortably, patting her back in an awkward human soothing motion.
Normally, Hermione was much more at ease with physical affection than ever I was, but I could tell Hermione hadn't quite prepared herself to be tackled by Narcissa of all people.
Narcissa came back and whispered something into Lucius' ear and his eyebrows shot into his hair. He looked to Hermione, who was already mingling with some of the masters and Council vampires who had made it to the occasion to pay respects to Sanguini's and Tobias' success.
Lucius pulled a silver ribboned envelope out from his pocket and handed it to me.
I stared at it like it was a Nundu in disguise.
Lucius' lips pursed. "It's an invitation, Severus, not a bloody Acromantula."
I took it gingerly. "To precisely what, dare I ask?"
Lucius rolled his eyes then stared at his nails as if to ask them for patience. "A wedding."
"Merlin, your mother is getting married again?" I sputtered.
Lucius smacked his lips, looking upward as if for divine strength.
"Mine, you oblivious sod, and you should put a proper ring on Granger's finger before she thinks you really are one. You can share the date and venue with myself and Narcissa."
I stared at him with wide, terrified eyes.
He grabbed me by the ear and dragged me out of the function until we were out of the hall and—
CRACK!
We were gone.
I'm fairly certain that Lucius was taking my disappearance from the few Slytherin he regularly communicated with and actually liked out on me by forcing me to go with him to get a proper ring. He wouldn't even let me protest—
Well, he did let me protest, but he simply ignored me.
The poor jeweller looked like he was ready to cry because he knew if he didn't find something for me, Lucius would make his life unbearable. He wouldn't even have to say anything. He would just walk out without his business—
The only ones I could imagine having such clout were the vampire elders who had connections going back much further than the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
The problem was—
All the rings were terribly flashy.
I couldn't imagine Hermione with a flashy ring any more than I could see her with pink flamingo fur. It just— wasn't right.
Lucius was wrinkling his nose. I could practically hear it. It was obvious that my choice in rings was not his choice in rings, but he was—much to his credit—letting me dig my own grave to lie in.
How gentlemanly.
The jeweller was starting to sweat a little, the distinct tang of fear floating in the air.
I looked in a case on the further side of the shop and the jeweller looked frantic. "Sir, those are the goblin-crafted rings!"
There was a beautiful goblin silver band with wolves running on it. It was elegant and detailed, but there were no gems—not that it needed any. It looked like moonlight sparkling across water.
It was perfect.
"I want this one," I said.
"But, sir—those are made by goblins!"
I slid my gaze over to scowl at him in silent scorn.
"They are just there to observe the treaty! They weren't crafted by us!"
"They are here are they not?" I snapped.
"Well—y-yes, but—"
"And they are for sale, yes?"
"Well—y-yes—"
Lucius slammed a sack of coins down on the counter. "Give him the ring."
The jeweller scurried to obey, and the ring was boxed on a velvet pillow encased in a deep mahogany and pushed towards me. "Thank you for shopping with us!"
I stared at the box.
Lucius whispered in my ear, "If you do not take that ring, take your witch out for a fine dinner, and propose before midnight, I will make sure you are the pumpkin, and I will ensure that you are carved into a fine jack o'lantern for my hearth that Dobby will personally carry with him everyday."
I immediately took the box and pocketed it, jerking a nod to him.
I may be a sodding dhampir, but hell, Lucius was still scary.
When I returned to the DoM, Hermione was, strangely, missing from her normal retreat from sensory overload and the usual socialisation places. Her favourite place near the library was empty, the coolest spot in the arboretum was vacant, and she wasn't doing her best furry rug imitation at the hot springs. I was at a loss as to where she could have burrowed herself.
When I poked my head into Tobias' study, I saw my mum depositing a pinch of fish food into the little aquarium my da had gotten her. The little fish were all gobbling up the multi-coloured flakes with enthusiasm.
"Did you need something, Severus?" she asked me.
"I was looking for Hermione," I said.
"Oh, she said to let you know she had to go watch Mr Lupin tonight. Her parents had to rush off to perform an emergency root canal." My mum sighed. "Such dreadful timing, she was here waiting for you when they asked her to come and mind the werewolves."
My jaw tightened. "Lupin. Why is it always Lupin?"
I turned and stormed out of our living quarters as I tried very hard not to contemplate murdering Lupin in cold blood and celebrating my graduation in Azkaban.
When I arrived at the holding area, which really looked more like a zoo enclosure than a proper cell, I found Lupin sitting naked on a log with nothing but a pair of fuzzy dice over his bollocks. Hermione lay with her body pressed against the boundary walls, tail flopping lazily back and forth.
When she saw me, her tail thumped on the ground more obviously, and she stood to come and greet me. She pressed her head to mine and let me ruffle her head and neck fur.
"Severus?" Lupin said hoarsely. "What are you doing here?"
"I had plans to celebrate our graduation at a nice restaurant," I said with a scowl. "But someone needed a wolf sitter."
"But you can't be here," Lupin protested. "I'm a werewolf!"
I rolled my eyes as I closed them. "I am—aware."
Lupin seemed to want to protest, but his hands were busy covering his privates, and it seemed like he was having a hard time trying to communicate with his hands occupied. He was such a strange person.
I thumped my head against Hermione's. "You are making it extremely difficult for me to take you to dinner."
Hermione whined and nuzzled me.
"Lucius has threatened to ensure I end my life as a carved pumpkin on his hearth if I do not take you out to dinner tonight," I said with a sigh.
Hermione hung her head, her ears swivelling to the side.
"It seems I'm doomed to always be unable to express myself clearly," Severus muttered.
"Um, shouldn't you be getting outside this area now?" Lupin butted in suddenly. "This is my—this is a—um, changing area."
"Lupin, as much I truly appreciate your public service announcement—kindly get stuffed."
I heard Lupin trying to crawl away, even as his change was starting to begin. Even having heard it before, it was still quite disconcerting. Unlike a natural process, it seemed like it was tearing him apart and then smashing him back together. His screams were grating on my nerves. It wasn't too hard to see why lycanthropy was a "curse."
Everyone knew they didn't want to be bitten by a werewolf, and if they were, most would rather die than survive the attack. It was considered a fate just as bad as losing your magic—or being exiled to the Muggle world with your wand broken.
As Lupin finished his transformation, the werewolf stared at me.
It was the first time I'd faced him since that night I'd broken his connection to Master Perdana. There had been a lot of significant "changes" in my life since then.
And despite Lupin being at the DoM in their schooling and protective custody program, he didn't have access to information as to my classification or rank. And for all he knew, Hermione and the giant wolf were partners rather than the very same being.
Lupin probably thought I had a suicide wish. Who, in his mind, would ever willingly lock themselves in with a werewolf?
Not a human, perhaps.
The werewolf Lupin eyed me with anticipatory excitement. His jaws parted as slaver pooled in his mouth and dripped down his tongue. I knew that his wolf had never truly stopped craving the human element—the overwhelming desire to bite and maim. .
And somehow, he thought I was perfect for the role of victim.
He snarled and leapt!
A pale white hand reached out, seized Lupin by the throat, and squeezed.
The werewolf yelped and dangled like a rag doll in the wind.
Tobias lowered the werewolf so he could look it right in the eyes. "You will leave my son alone." He narrowed his eyes. "Do we understand each other, or do I need to squeeze harder?"
The werewolf whimpered and piddled.
"Brute force?" Sanguini said as he set up a picnic "lunch", some comfortable chairs, and a table. "How terribly barbaric."
Tobias tched, giving Sanguini a weary shake of the head. "It seems to be the only language he understands."
As usual, my father's appearance startled me, no matter how calm, cool, and collected he was.
Tobias dropped the werewolf flat on his arse, and the humbled beast belly-crawled over to Hermione and hid with a tucked tail behind her massive bulk.
Apparently, while she'd been pretty darned scary herself,Tobias put the ever-loving fear of Merlin into him. Hermione was now the lesser of two evils, and he proceeded to conceal himself like a frightened child hiding behind their mummy's back.
Hermione's expression was pretty much "who knows?" mixed with having seen it all before in one way or another. It still amazed me how much I could tell from a wolf's body language and facial expressions. As a young child, I hadn't ever had a pet (not that Hermione was one) and my experience with animals had been limited to the "familiars" of Hogwarts. Most of those cats, owls, and toads were pets, and they were, while often attached to a specific person, not like Hermione was for Sanguini and Tobias. That bond—it was special. A linkage of souls and minds to share a lifetime.
While I didn't doubt there were true familiars out there, I highly doubted that an eleven-year-old child had the ability to bond with the scope of an entire lifetime in the way that an adult could. Children could barely manage to avoid blowing themselves up in class—and not every child was as studious in their learning as someone like Hermione. Also, not every studious Ravenclaw was as well-rounded in life skills as Sanguini had taught Hermione to be. The fact that she had loving, approving parents and a strong bond with her master was—
Nothing short of the perfect storm.
Which was further proven by the stories of her brother, David.
And now—
I was trying to propose sharing a lifetime with me as well—
And I felt so very inadequate.
And my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth like I was some lowly speck of life kneeling at the feet of a goddess.
It didn't matter that she'd accepted my courtship after life had pretty much said, "Okay, you're not going to ask her, so we're just going to give you a nudge." It didn't matter that her eyes lit up whenever she saw me, and she shared time with me like I mattered.
I was scared.
Terrified that I'd say something wrong. DO something wrong— and then she would remember why she'd told me she'd never forgive me so many years ago.
"This is a pretty strange place for a picnic," my mum said as she practically floated in, a book tucked under her arm as she gave both Sanguini and Tobias a peck on the cheek.
Lupin eyed the newest arrival with a predatory look of evaluation, and for the first time, I felt Tobias' power roll off him without him having to move so much a single muscle.
Lupin's eyes widened, and he immediately tucked tail, having gotten the implied message loud and clear.
Sanguini shook his head. "Werewolves are just—never quite right. If you don't get them young, it's like they never truly grasp basic manners. I think that is why Fenrir likes to bite them when they're young—so they learn to be savage and stay completely loyal to him. But in hiding Mr Lupin away from those like Fenrir, they didn't allow him or his wolf the opportunity to acquire much-needed socialisation skills during a critical time."
"But who would teach him those things, normally?" my mum asked.
"Ah, but therein lies the problem," Tobias said. "Most of the Wizarding World does not value a cursed werewolf enough to look into possible solutions or resources that could help. They would rather shovel dirt over their problems and hide them from sight. Vampires could assist, but in places other than the DoM, very few are inclined to admit that any problems exist."
"Somehow I don't think many know or even should know that world-wolves exist," Sanguini said. "It is much easier to travel in Muggle areas when they mistakenly, happily think Hermione is some breed of highly trained dog. That is for her safety too. People, both Muggle and magical, tend to react badly first and perhaps regret it later, if at all. Mind you, it helps that she can shrink herself down as easily as she can make herself larger."
Sanguini gave Hermione her favourite ear rubs and kissed her on the head.
"Now, go to dinner, child, before Severus forgets his head."
I flushed slightly at being called out. It was unnerving to be known so well by another person that didn't use it against me. Teasing was—just teasing. There was not the sting of hurt or malicious intent that had plagued my years at Hogwarts. No matter how many times I was treated with kindness and fairness, I always had to remind myself that not everyone was a saint just as not everyone was a remorseless bully.
Humans, wolves, vampires—even werewolves were individuals with their own strengths and weaknesses. Not all of them were permanent. We could all learn, grow, and evolve.
Even if Lupin was taking significantly longer in his lessons as a werewolf. Maybe it was because he could only learn three nights a month and had an average twenty-eight days of regression. We'd probably never know.
My mum threw a small piece of baguette at my head, and my eyes widened.
"Go," she said, shaking her head. "Take our lovely wolf out to dinner."
Hermione, who was looking back and forth from all of us, seemed understandably suspicious.
"Dinner?" I asked. "Since we have been so kindly relieved of werewolf sitting duty?"
Hermione's ears swivelled and her tail half-wagged in inner conflict.
I rubbed under her chin and huffed. "Come on, then. It's the place you've said you wanted to go to for years now."
Hermione perked, ears straight forward and tail up.
I had to smile. She was always the wolf.
When we settled in at a small table at Terre et Mer, Hermione looked somewhat unsure of herself. While she was fluid in her shifts into a human form, I think she wore her coat of fur much like I wore sarcasm. She was more comfortable on all fours and wearing fur, just as I was more comfortable wearing a forbidding scowl with my arms crossed in front of me. There was something comforting about one's habits.
Hermione would usually only shift into human form when she had to make official appearances outside the DoM or when she needed hands. She tended to do it only when she had to or when she was very comfortable, and most of the time it was when we sat in the arboretum studying our book material.
They brought us sliced baguettes and herbed dipping oil while we waited for our dinner, and I watched her expression change with pleasure at the different tastes going across her tongue. She'd said before that her tastes were usually the same from one form to the other, but sometimes the human tongue felt a somewhat different sensation while she ate which made the dining experience "fascinating."
This unique duality had always made her all the more amazing to me, and I had come to appreciate how she perfectly balanced these two aspects of her life and still managed to share so much time with me.
I felt pretty happy that I could move around in my wolf form without clumsily tripping over my paws, ending up sprawled flat on my back and staring at my own arse like Coyote from the mythological tales.
When the waiter brought our salads, Hermione's face brightened as she saw the row of delicately lined up sausage in the Morteau sausage salad. She tilted her head at me—an expression of excitement—and made sure to get both the greens, sausage and eggs slathered with just the "right" amount of Dijon dressing.
She gestured at me to eat with her and share the salad, and I startled before spearing a bit of sausage with my fork and sampling it. To my surprise, it tasted every bit as good as some of the dishes Sanguini made, and that made it easier to enjoy it without questioning its pedigree.
Remembering what I hadn't had as a child, it seemed surreal to even be going out for dinner. And later, when I'd found out that Sanguini was teaching my mum how to cook, things got even more surreal. Mum, apparently, had always had house elves as a child. The results of all of Sanguini's lessons had led to an abundance of exotic dishes, and sometimes Hermione and my mum would have cook-offs trying to master Sanguini's vast array of old recipes.
By the time the chateaubriand for two was brought to our table, I was convinced it was all a fever dream. I poked the potatoes duchesse and vichy carrots with a sort of surreal disbelief as if they would turn into the greasy and often badly burnt nastiness that had been a staple for my "mum" and me.
"Don't you like the cheese?" Hermione asked as she selected a few choice bits off the platter nearby.
"I would like to save room for dessert," I confessed.
Hermione grinned, her smile shooting right into my heart. "Maybe we can take the leftovers to Remus to torment him, letting him know that his wolf eats much better than he does."
I pondered Hermione's cunningly torturous ways. "Perhaps," I said, popping a cube of Pavé d'Affinois into my mouth, savouring the richness and slightly sweet, grassy flavour.
She laughed, the crinkles around her eyes accenting her warmth.
When she stuck her fork into the pear tarte tatin, my heart dropped into my feet with stress. I had tried to be— subtle, but now I was having second thoughts.
I didn't feel like a Slytherin. I felt like a first year about to take my N.E.W.T.s.
"We could get one of the chocolate desserts to take back for Sanguini, my da, and mum," I suggested. "Sanguini once mentioned that he has a weakness for crème brulée au chocolat and mum and da both love chocolate of any kind."
"Hrm, that would just shove little goblin silver slivers into Lupin's chocolate-loving heart," Hermione said wickedly. She raised her hand to the waiter and ordered the desserts to go. Our waiter scurried off with enthusiasm as if he knew this night was extra-special.
Even if Hermione might not—
I grimaced.
Suddenly Hermione looked at me with puzzlement, and I felt my stomach twist. Her brows knit together as she picked up the sweet-covered box. She looked at it with an expression of curious confusion. She brushed the fruity pastry aside before lifting the latch and exposing the inside of the box.
Her eyes widened when she saw the ring within.
"Marry me," I whispered. "Before I die of utter mortification. Lucius had threatened my life, and Narcissa wants a double wedding, and IDON'TEVENKNOWWHATELSETOSAYANDIWANTTROCRAWLUNDERAROCK!"
Hermione's warm kiss assaulted my mouth, and I felt my legs give out from under me despite the fact I remained vertical, and her pesky Lethifold pushed me into her closer so I could engulf her with my arms. "Yes," she said quietly into my ear.
Suddenly, to my utter astonishment, the entire restaurant burst into cheers and clapping, and I saw the familiar forms of Lucius and Narcissa at the previously hidden table across the restaurant.
Lucius lifted his champagne glass to me, arching a blond brow with a knowing smirk plastered to his face.
Well, shite.
When we returned to the werewolf containment area, my da and my mum were cuddled up together like a pair of lovesick teenagers. Sanguini was reading a book with his feet up on Lupin's back, and the werewolf was just laying there like a faithful hound.
I stared, my eyes not agreeing with the remnants of my highly taxed and abused brain.
"Figure things out yet, my son?" Tobias said, his face pressed into my mum's hair.
I blinked furiously, shaking my head to clear it. "I believe so."
"Ah good," he replied, snuggling with my mother. "I believe that Mr Lupin has come to realise that it is much better to behave like a civilised member of society rather than a heathen, spoilt beast."
I raised a brow. I'm not sure I really wanted to know what had caused Lupin's epiphany.
Hermione bounced over to Sanguini and oozed into his embrace.
Sanguini smiled, ruffling her mane of hair. "Did you have a good night, child?"
"Good," Mihail said. "Tobias and I were contemplating hiring a Thestral to kick him in the head if he didn't propose."
I sputtered and flushed as Hermione beamed with amusement. She handed them the hamper of a specially packed dinner.
"Lucius said I was not permitted to simply send you dessert."
Sanguini arched a brow. "Did he pack a seven course meal into this hamper?"
Hermione shrugged sheepishly. "Maybe?"
The vampire shook his head. "It is quite fortuitous that our lines can still consume human food," he said with a chuckle. "Thank you for the stasis charms."
Hermione leaned on her master with obvious comfort, and I had to smile and be a bit embarrassed because I knew she was sharing her joy with him.
I laid a small parcel down by Tobias. "This is for the mutt," I muttered. "Hermione said if he was well-behaved, he could have this—" I sighed. "Doggie bag."
Lupin whined and tail wagged, sniffing the air with obvious interest.
Tobias smirked. "I suppose he can have it before he changes back. In time for his human to be jealous."
Hermione, apparently, wasn't the only one who wasn't terribly impressed by human Lupin.
Remus awoke the next morning covered liberally in leaf litter and feeling better than he ever had after the change. He yawned and stretched, spitting out a leaf and a piece of steak bone.
The flavour on it made his mouth water, and did he taste just a hint of butter and garlic? It made him want to lick the bone thoroughly until not a trace remained.
He rustled around to find his clothes, and he ran into the elegantly folded and stamped box of something in French and saw it depressingly empty, the scent of most delicious plunder lingering on the packaging.
Worse—
He saw a plate where the smears of some sinfully rich chocolate dessert remained—just enough to tease his sensitive nose but mock his stomach.
Despite the whetted hunger, he felt strangely content.
Ever since he'd started undergoing his change at the DoM, he'd not suffered the same vast array of self-inflicted bites and scratches that he used to.
"Mr Lupin."
Remus screeched in embarrassment as he dove for the pile of clothing and tried to dress with all due haste as Madam Bones gazed upon him with puckered lips. She extended an envelope.
He tentatively took it.
"Your permission to move to the Ailbhe werewolf colony in the Bermuda Triangle. You will be permitted to work and visit others outside of it, but you must be there on your moon nights, as you have been briefed."
Remus swallowed and nodded. "Thank you, I— I truly appreciate being given the chance."
"Do not make me regret signing these papers, Mr Lupin," Amelia said sternly. "I hope you can understand the gravity of what will happen should you forget to check in on your moon nights."
"I won't forget," Remus promised.
Remus settled into his new cottage on Rabbit Island with a sigh of relief— finally able to feel the sun on his face and relax.
While he had appreciated having a safe place to shift in the DoM, it had never felt like home to him. He didn't want to become an apprentice, and he didn't really feel like he fit in with the DoM children, beastlets, and other non-humans.
It felt odd to admit it, even to himself, but he felt much too human to fit in there.
He wasn't like that—all the time.
He was a human being, damnit, and he spent all his time when he wasn't turning, convincing himself that he was not his wolf. He was not a monster.
He was pretty sure that Severus had a death wish when he'd come into the enclosure in the DoM.
But they'd still let him leave—so, he must have somehow survived.
He'd spent so much time trying to separate himself from Snape and anything that reminded him of his exceedingly poor choices in best mates—
Two of them sentenced to Azkaban, one of whom had been Kissed, or—
He walked over to the Floo and turned the stag figurine on the mantle. The Floo promptly activated and Lily and James tumbled out along with a tiny red-headed girl with freckles.
"Remus!" Lily cried, hugging him.
"Where have you been all this time?" Remus asked as he poured the tea.
"Dumbledore moved us into a safe house in Australia. It's in New South Wales near the Gondwana rainforests. He swears the Dark Lord will return one day, and we have to be ready," James said as he slapped Remus on the back. "He couldn't manage to get Sirius out, though."
Remus jerked his head. "He set me up to murder someone, James." He eyed the child. "Who is this?"
"This is our daughter, Daisy," Lily said proudly. "Daisy, come say hello to Uncle Remus."
The little girl beat her doll on the mantle, ignoring Lily.
"She's a real handful," Lily said, sighing. "Won't you come live with us, Remus?"
"Me?" Remus asked, nonplussed. "No, I don't think that'd be a good idea. I have freedom here. We're all werewolves. I don't have to worry about infecting anyone."
Lily frowned. "But this is like a prison colony."
"It's a werewolf sanctuary," Remus replied. "I have a good job, a comfortable home, and freedom except for three nights a month. I won't risk messing this up."
Lily looked like she was going to protest, but James put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "He's freer than we are, Lil.
"Let's catch up, Moony," James said with a sigh. "It's so good to see a friendly face."
Remus gave a small smile. "Yeah. It's pretty good to see you too." His nostrils flared slightly as he scented the little girl. He glanced at James, who still looked at Lily with absolute blind adoration. He closed his eyes. "You'll just have to visit whenever you can."
James grinned. "We're going to visit so much, you'll never be lonely again."
Remus looked at Daisy while James and Lily were exploring his new home. "So, do you like chocolate?"
The child's eyes brightened immediately and she nodded with enthusiasm.
Remus' lips twitched and he took little Daisy into his arms.
End of Chapter Three
A/N: Dun. Dun. Dun.
