Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard.

A/N: I know it's been a long time, but I was finally inspired as to how this would end. I apologise in advance if the end is not quite what you expected, but while most of it goes as planned, some of it didn't take root until recently, which is what finally inspired me to finish it at all.

Born Unto Darkness

A Crackfic by Corvus Draconis

Chapter Seven

One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to

understand and to be understood.

Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Severus woke with his apprentice tucked under his wing, burrowed into his side, much as she did with her Dementors, only blissfully oblivious that she had been transferred from Grandfather and Bling to him.

Magorian was watching him with great amusement, his tail swishing lazily as he tended the bonfire.

"It was quite a long night, my friend," Magorian said softly. "The larders, however, are blissfully full enough that our winter will not be one filled with famine."

"I am glad that the two dunderheads did not turn your winter prospects grim."

Magorian nodded. "Your apprentice and her knight are quite eager to make up for the two interlopers."

"Her knight? Is that what they call it now?" Severus mused.

Magorian smiled. "His stars differ from yours, friend Severus. Time will pass. Foals grow up. It often happens far sooner than we expect."

"Centaurs. Always so cryptic with your stars and planets."

"The stars and planets are cryptic. We simply read them as they are."

Severus grunted quietly as Hermione yawned and wing-snuggled up against him. She took part of his wing membrane and pulled it over herself like a favoured comfy blanket.

He fidgeted uneasily, torn between dislodging the sensation or simply tolerating it.

"Do you not like the comfort of those who trust you so implicitly? Our foals trust us, cuddle with us even when we are not their sire or dam. Even this Viktor—he lays by the fire with many foals plastered up against him and one knackered phoenix passed out upon his head. It is a safe place amongst the herd—a safe place here with those you trust. Is it not also a safe place to allow yourself the simple luxury of a comforting touch?"

"She is my student—my apprentice."

"We will always have our teachers, our mentors, and even those who never stop learning, but she shares a joined journey with you, Severus. You may deny this to even yourself, but be careful not to sabotage the trust she has for you by putting up imaginary blockades. For now that trust is that of a foal, but one day the foal grows up."

Severus looked down at the sleeping Hermione. He curved his wing around her and tried to remember that time in his life when he was alone and that was normal to him—when his best friend's touch equated to a slug on the arm or a shove—teasing, bantering.

Lily had been everything for far, far less than this young beast-girl whose heart was every bit as large as the dragons she worked with.

Hermione, oblivious to the turmoil she was causing in the potions master, smashed her face into his side, one wing idly twitching to itch her nose as she dreamed away.

Hermione poked Zoinks and Jinkies, but the two unhappy spiders just pouted in a pile of two, sulking.

"I don't think they are interested in anyone else, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said sadly. "I'm not even sure they are even a species on record. They did seem to stem off of Mr Hagrid's and Ronald's strangely botched bout of accidental magic. They are completely bound to them."

The spider perched on Hermione's shoulder shook its head. "They're not very helpful spiders. We've tried to interest them in working with us, but they don't like us either."

Hermione patted the grey and black spider on her shoulder. "We can't please everyone."

Poppy sighed. "Well, they skulk about until Mr Weasley or Hagrid make an appearance, and then they chase after them begging for cuddles. It doesn't end well. Usually with Mr Weasley moaning in one of my beds with a broken something or other."

"Do they just sit here all day?"

Poppy nodded ruefully. "They aren't like your helpful ones at all. Those like to help by dusting around and organising the jars. These two just sulk unless their two chosen people show up."

"Focused."

"Yes, very."

"Well, here are some nutritive potion drops for their health," Hermione said with a sigh. "Other than that, there isn't much I can recommend. Their minds are too firmly closed off."

"Thank you for the drops, dear. Please thank Severus for restocking my potions. Lucius does a few of them, but he's not nearly as efficient as Severus was."

Hermione smiled. "Mr Malfoy has to keep his nails utterly pristine."

Poppy sputtered laughter. "I'm sure he does. Go on, then. Have a good afternoon, love."

Hermione bowed. "Have a good day, Madam Pomfrey!" She turned and left, her wings rustling as she went, her toes clacking their talon-claws against the flagstone.

Poppy looked after her fondly before going back to work.

"Yeah, that's ours," Fred admitted.

"But we never got to sell the Peruvian Vanishing Powder," George said, rubbing his chin. "Someone nicked it off us before we could even test it. Our shipment came in with nothing but a bunch of empty boxes."

"We had just gotten our new official logo branding on our items. We're doing owl orders now, ya know. Catalogue stuff until we can get ourselves a real store—we lost most of our money betting at the World Cup. We actually won, but the bloody rat didn't pay us."

"And the WWW for Mischief and Mayhem: Tools for All Occasions?" Alastor growled.

"Well, that is our box logo, but we weren't packing that kind of stuff in it. Graffiti? Distractions? See, look at our catalogue!" Fred objected.

"The Glorious Graffiti is for painting funny murals on walls. They fade away after a few days. Nothing lewd. "The Deceptive Distractions were boring-looking books with cool toys hidden inside, which you could reuse to store snacks instead. We were going to use the Ear Shattering Explosives to create a new firework line, but not sell it outright like that."

"And the Peruvian Darkness Powder—we didn't even get to see that before it was bloody gone."

"Well, someone is certainly going out of their way to make loads of trouble for you two," Alastor said grimly, nodding to McGonagall.

"Savage, I want you to put a trace on all the owls going in and out of their little business. Proudfoot, put a trace on the items themselves. I'll get old Scrimgeour to sign off on a few test purchases from certain places and see if we actually get the items we order. I want to know what access this person has and how they are getting a hold of the products before these two do. As for you two, no explosives and the like on school grounds. You may be brilliant at such things, but I don't want whoever this is to be getting free explosives to run amok with."

The twins nodded sullenly. "Right."

"Did someone really use our shipment to attack people?"

Alastor nodded. "It could have been much worse, aye. Fortunately, they were caught before they could use it all."

The twins frowned in unison. "We've been working really hard to set up a legitimate business," George said. "Fun things. Funny things. Mischief, yes—but not anything meant to hurt other people."

Alastor wrinkled his nose. He rubbed the patch he wore over the eye where the infamous magical "mad-eye" had once been. Unbeknownst to many, he could see perfectly well through the patch as it helped him filter out any external stimuli he didn't want. He could tell, fortunately for the Weasley twins, that they weren't lying.

"Well, we'll be looking over your catalogue from now on to make sure everything is up to snuff. Once your catalogue is officially approved, we'll sign off on it so that Headmistress McGonagall can be reassured you are not blowing anything up or testing your products on innocent students. That be a deal, lads?"

The twins nodded, obviously glad to have something to work with rather than nothing at all.

"Good. For once, I am glad that the Weasleys are not at the root of this particular crisis. Kindly keep your freckled noses clean, gentlemen."

"Yes, sir," the twins chimed.

Ron was having a really bad month—year, hell, a bloody awful life!

It was bad enough that his mum had managed to recover just enough to remember how to send a ruddy Howler screaming at him for filling their innocent Ginny's mind with total rubbish, but then a furious Bill came up to Hogwarts to read him the riot act in person after McGonagall had called him in all the way from Egypt to "deal with the situation."

Bad enough that he'd been forced to run around like some weird skinny bloke with an endless appetite and then got blamed for eating every scrap of food he could lay his hands on.

It wasn't like he'd actually intended to eat all the food!

Damn it!

Food sounded really good right about now.

Mmm… food.

Now, every bloody time he went around the corner in the same wing as the infirmary, two huge, fluffy, overly-affectionate spiders would chase him all over the castle, begging him for hugs and cuddles of all things.

NOOOOOOOOPE!

Nope!

Nope and NOPE!

So what if Ginny actually showed a little leg like a proper girl? Real girls made sure to show off their girly assets for blokes like him to enjoy, and since Ginny didn't have diddly for breasts yet, the least she could do is show off her legs.

So what if the stupid papers said she looked like a ruddy tart? Psh. It wasn't like he was ever going to shag her, but no other bloke was going to want to if she kept being such a ruddy little prude. How else was his little sis going to get a move on and be like his mum? She had to get an early start or else she'd never manage to have as many kids as his mum and dad.

She was supposed to wiggle her little bum and get Harry all interested, but she'd gone and tried to impress the other girls instead.

What good were other girls? It wasn't like girls could have kids all on their own, innit right?

He knew what blokes like him really liked. He'd seen the secret stash of Playwizard magazines that Charlie had left hidden under his old mattress. He saw the latest witchy magazines with all kinds of tips for snagging and shagging the guys of their dreams.

Besides, Cormac McLaggen had told him all about what witches really wanted.

Ron listened with barely half an ear as Neville continued nagging at him that he didn't think the dew he'd gotten from the potions stores was the right kind to put in the potion they were working on. He said it looked to be the wrong colour. Pfft. Dew was dew, wasn't it? What did stupid Neville Longbottom, the Great Cauldron-Slayer of Gryffindor, know about bloody potions anyway?

Ignoring Neville's continued protests, Ron dripped the dew into the cauldron and leaned back in his chair with satisfaction. They were going to be done in half the time, easy. So much better than when they'd had sodding git-Snape glowering down his huge beaky nose at them all the time.

"No, not that! EEEE!" two fuzzy spiders cried in alarm, launching their fuzzy bodies towards the cauldron.

Ron screamed shrilly, dumping in an entire vial of extract of cacao beans, causing the potion to foam up and rapidly expand as a terrified Neville quickly dove under their work table.

KABLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The explosion sent poor Jinkies and Zoinks flying up against the far wall to crash head-on with a sickening splat even as many others had already preemptively hit the deck and dove under their desks for dear life, following Neville's fine example with alacrity.

The explosion of foamy potion rained down all over the other student cauldrons and a chain of bad, very bad, terribad, and epically-bad potion reactions promptly ensued, compiling into an impressive spray of what looked rather like glittery marshmallow fluff but smelled quite strongly of sickly sweet honeysuckle.

Lucius, who had been standing just outside the classroom conferring with Filius Flitwick about another matter, stormed back into the classroom, only just barely avoiding a rather embarrassing slip in the sparkly layer of rainbow-hued fluff that was coating pretty much everything in the classroom—save for the poor, traumatised students who were trembling in fright as they huddled under their respective desks.

Lucius waved his wand about wildly, cleaning up the ungodly glittery mess with a small magical cyclone of get-all-of-this-rubbish-the-hell-out-of-here-right-now.

The room was peppered with pitiful whimpers and furtive whispers as a high-pitched feminine shriek came from the middle of the room … right where Ron had been sitting mere moments before. The screamer turned out to be a girl with long, ginger hair who was dressed in a clingy purple mini-dress and a lime green scarf. She screamed again as she shakily ran her hands over her quite curvaceous new form.

"Jeepers! I have jubblies!"

He—she—stared down at himself, poking himself in wildly inappropriate places in front of Merlin and everyone.

Then there was a shriek from the Slytherin side of the room. A girl with thick black glasses, short brown hair, a heavy orange turtleneck sweater, dark red mini-skirt, thick orange knee-high stockings and red shoes let out an almost inhuman wail.

"I'm HIDEOUS!" she wailed in horror, flinging the glasses off her face only to realise that now she couldn't see. She stumbled around, but no one wanted to help her out lest they catch whatever the hell she had.

"Pansy, no!" someone cried as "Pansy" tripped into the classroom stock of reagent jars and she fell on the floor as small, twittering birds flew tight circles around her head along with a few glowing star shapes.

Harry thumped his head into his hands and moaned, "Why can't we have at least one week of classes without some kind of bloody drama?"

Draco puckered his lips as he looked around the classroom for a safe place to sit and found none. "I'd be happy with a single day to start with, Potter."

Crabbe had a pumpkin perched over his head, and Goyle had a white sheet draped over himself making him look like a Muggle idea of a Halloween ghost.

"EEEEIIIIIGHEHE!" Goyle exclaimed.

"Do you really think the Weasley family is cursed?"

"Sure seems like it, mate"

"You're quite the talker today, Draco."

"I narrowly avoided being turned into a girl thanks to the bloody Weasel's latest act of wanton stupidity in potions class. Bad enough that Crabbe and Goyle are convinced they are ghosts that have to haunt the school and try to float through walls only to repeatedly knock themselves out cold."

Zabini scrunched up his face in disgust. "Those two berks deserve to run into walls. No one in Slytherin is exactly crying over that sodding mess. At least now we can blame their stupidity on the potion explosion instead of trying to deny they're sodding idiots in public."

"You going to the evening picnic, then?"

"You daft, mate? Those spiders of theirs make the absolute best spreads. If anything, I'm going for the fantastic food alone," Draco said with clear enthusiasm. "Besides, Father will be there too, trying to butter up Severus in hopes of a cure for those two nimrods. We might as well enjoy all the extras he brings to share."

"Mercenary, mate."

"Practical. My father can't cook worth a damn, but he knows where to order the very best in exotic foods, creme de la creme, the finest sweets from other countries. Hard to beat the spiders though. I'm sure he's up to the challenge. Besides, all of Durmstrang will be there. Beauxbatons too."

"Right proper picnic, then? Why isn't more of Hogwarts going?"

Draco's expression was grim. "Fear. They don't treat her like a person, Hermione. They treat her like a ruddy thing. At least you get a few Ravenclaws who are wise enough to know better and a few Hufflepuffs who believe in evaluating people by their actions rather than buying into all the daft stories and baseless rumours."

"Well then, we best bring our own gifts to the picnic, yeah?" Nott decided. "Besides, I really need to thank her for taking my bastard of a father out—at least checking him out mentally—with all his stupid Death Eater rot."

"You know," Bulstrode said, her face scrunching up in thought. "Seems like those of us who aren't so against Snape and Hermione luck out way more often than those who are. I mean, Weaselbee and 'ette, Crabbe, Goyle—they are all suffering from some kind of wicked bad karma."

"Snape hardly believes in karma," Nott scoffed.

"That doesn't mean karma doesn't believe in them," Zabini observed wisely.

"I don't think Ron Weasley gets on with karma in the slightest—especially after fondling himself in the Great Hall right in front of Merlin and everyone."

The others cringed. "I really didn't want to remember that!"

"Well I do, so you're all going to have to suffer along with me."

"I really hate you, Bulstrode."

Bulstrode just grinned wickedly.

"Cucumber sandwich?" a fluffy spider asked.

"Thank you," Draco said, accepting the sandwich and giving the spider a fond scritch on the abdomen.

The spider cooed and bounced in glee, disappearing with a poof.

"Where did all these spiders come from?" Pansy asked, looking a little nervous.

"They're totally harmless, Pans," Bulstrode said, patting the one happily perched on her shoulder. "Unless you step on one or try to brain it with your book."

Pansy looked a bit dubious, but she nibbled on her plate of homemade crisps with clear interest.

"You ask Hermione if you could play with Tov? I've seen you eyeing that baby dragon all night."

Pansy turned her head sharply. "No!" She shifted with discomfort, tugging on the orange turtleneck sweater that still refused to leave her. "Bad enough this stupid clothing doesn't go away, but must it also take over every single new thing I put on?"

"At least you aren't prancing around looking at everything through a Muggle magnifying glass and squealing 'Jinkies!' all the time."

"And calling yourself Thelma."

"Just for that first week, thank you very much."

"Not like the idiot Weasel."

"Yeah, he's still sleeping in the infirmary until Madam Pomfrey can sort out all his bits and bobbles."

"Come on, Pansy. Just ask Hermione to let you get to know Tov. She'll give you a good shake, really."

Pansy snorted.

"Someone say my name?" Hermione asked, wandering up. "Did you guys get enough to eat?"

"Gods, Hermione. I'm going to explode," Draco groaned.

"Same." Blaise rubbed his very full stomach with great satisfaction.

Likewise," Theo agreed.

Tanith hissed her amusement as Bertje bobbed her head. Tov trotted along behind, playfully chasing Zorion and Kai. Tov had Kai's molten tail in her mouth, much to the pup's distress.

"Oi, Tov, why don't you go butter up Pansy for her leftovers?"

The dragonling perked and made a beeline towards Pansy.

Fmmmmoopph!

A startled Pansy now lay flat on her back with a very happy dragonling perched on her stomach.

"Krrrik!" Tov exclaimed.

"So, I hear you like dragonlings," Hermione said with a chuckle. "Would you like to meet Sofa? She's not a dragonling, but she might like some attention."

Many pairs of eyes immediately widened with blatant pleading.

Hermione sighed. "Only if your Head of House approves."

The gaggle of Slytherins dashed towards Lucius with their very best Slytherin game faces on.

Snape crossed his arms across his chest and gave her a stern look. "You will remember to strap any and all of them down should they be stupid enough to attempt to fly without wings?"

Hermione smiled up at Severus. "Of course, Master. I have mastered the sticking rump firmly to dragonhide spell."

Snape's expression twisted into a smug smile. "Just as it should be."

Sofa, who was tolerating Tov's hyperactive bouncing upon her body, yawned lazily. Her eyes watched the small gaggle of Slytherins with semi-interest, seemingly more interested in enjoying Hermione's pets.

"If you really want to get on her good side, there is some oil in the pots over there. She loves being oiled. It's like lotion for dragons. You can use magic, but she much prefers you rub it in yourself."

Draco didn't waste any time, and he grabbed a soft cloth, dipped it in the pot, and went to work, working over her draped wing.

The dragon rumbled in clear approval, helpfully extending her wing for better coverage.

"How do you do this all by yourself?" Theo asked, working on one large foot.

"It's not so bad. I alternate days so I don't do it all in one go for every dragon." Hermione laid her hand on the dragon's forehead. "They know which day is theirs and usually get extra cuddly."

"A dragon? Cuddly?" Blaise said, boggling.

"Think of them as reptilian cats of gargantuan size. They know when supper time is, and they let you know when you forget something that is normally at a certain time. Since they love being oiled, they don't ever let you forget."

"At least they don't dance on your kidneys like my Mavis," Bulstrode said, eyeing her familiar with a scowl. The feline was happily sprawled out in a sunbeam, ignoring her mistress with fickle feline detachment. Later, as they all knew, Mavis would be all over her, covering her entire uniform with cat hair.

Hermione used her Wingardium Leviosa to hover the dragon saddle into place, making sure the layer of soft wool was also in place to protect the dragon from any undue pressure. Then she carefully tugged on each of the leather straps, working her hand under it to check the degree of snugness.

"You okay, Sofa?" she asked kindly.

The dragon gave her a slurp and a jet of steam that made Hermione's hair frizz out into a wild bushy mane. Hermione sighed, patting the dragon with affection. She carefully shrank down Sofa's nest of eggs and placed them in the protective saddle box, and Sofa looked it over with attention, seemingly counting her eggs before they left.

"Okay, you guys can get on now, and make sure you put on the safety harnesses!"

The other children scrambled to get a seat as if one of them would be left out if they didn't get a place in time. Hermione cast the rump-to-saddle sticking charm just to be safe, knowing her master would be "perturbed" if one of the children fell off.

She checked the straps and harnesses three more times, causing Draco to fuss impatiently.

Pansy elbowed him to the ribs. "If something bad happens they'll never let us do this again. Stop complaining, you berk."

Draco just crossed his arms, pouting.

Hermione closed the transparent lid over the eggs so they would be fully protected, sliding the lock in place so there would be no accidents. Sofa snuffled her, shaking out her wings in eager anticipation of a flight. Normally, a mother dragon was confined to her nest, and Sofa and the other mother dragons had quickly seen the benefit of being able to take their nest along with them so they could fly and hunt, feeding themselves when other less fortunate dragons had to put up with fasting during their egg-guarding cycle.

Bertje warbled, tugging on Hermione's ear gently, and she patted her, tucking her into place in her mane of hair as she felt the dragonet do her own safety checks before take-off. Tov let out a rather loud yawn-squeak but looked really excited to go.

Hermione sat in the forward saddle and used her legs and seat grip to signal her readiness to Sofa, and the mother dragon lifted off with a few great beats of her huge wings, breaking through the dense forest canopy and into the bright afternoon sunlight. They soared and banked over the cooling lake air, catching thermals as Sofa "played" by rising and falling just to feel the air around her and over her scales.

The Slytherins let out a loud whoop of excitement as Sofa flew by the towers of Hogwarts and many, many sets of jealous eyes stared out the castle windows at the scene. None, perhaps, more so than the eyes of the very Gryffindors who had so thoroughly ostracised the one person who could have made it possible for them to participate as well.

"It's not fair!"

"Not fair!"

In a few moments, the great dragon landed on the castle ramparts to allow the exuberant children to slide down Sofa's wing and off to bed, all chattering happily.

As the crowd of angry Gryffindors looked on, Luna walked by as she idly flipped through a book and walked at the same time.

"It's your own fault, you know. Don't blame them for being accepting when you were too narrow-minded for that and too proud to admit you were wrong."

"LOOK OUT, LUNA!"

A student with blue-lined robes hastily dove at Luna, knocking her down with a flying tackle as a blazing firework just missed her head and flew straight at Sofa.

The dragon's head quickly moved out of the way, as the firework exploded, showering the castle ramparts in a rain of fire and sparks.

As the sparks and fire dissipated, Hermione's wings unfolded from the protective position over the remaining children who had been stuck in the saddles, waiting to be released. The crackle of her magic faded off her wings as the instinctive protective shield faded away.

Hermione was breathing heavily as her body wobbled with heavy fatigue and she dropped to her knees and then slid off of Sofa.

Ssssssssthhhhhhh—thud.

She fell into Grandfather's waiting arms, her eyes closed in utter exhaustion.

More Dementors gathered around, all of them reaching out to touch Hermione.

Severus arrived in a blur of draconic wingbeats and he waved his wand to release the trapped children who, in their terror, had forgotten how to undo the saddle latches. The children immediately mobbed Lavender Brown, who was still standing there dumbfounded alongside her best friend, Parvati Patil, the telltale firecracker launcher still clutched tight in her gaudily manicured hand.

"ENOUGH!" Minerva McGonagall's Sonorused yell of absolute fury was projected throughout the castle's hallways.

All of the children froze in place as if compelled to do so in unison.

Minerva's lips were pursed into a fine, unmistakably disgusted line.

"All of you will march directly to my office right this second," she stated grimly with fire in her eyes. "We'll let the Aurors figure out what happened here through your wands and questioning."

She narrowed her eyes at them. "Move."

"You have no idea how lucky you are that the dragon didn't roast you all in dragonfire," Minerva said with a Snape-worthy scowl multiplied by sheer Scottish wrath. "She's a mother dragon with a clutch of eggs, and you shot an explosive at one of the honoured guests of our school. If Master Snape hadn't been right there to placate the dragon in his apprentice's stead, you'd all be in the hospital wing regrowing your skin and your lungs, assuming you managed to survive!"

"It's not FAIR that Slytherin gets to ride on a dragon, and WE don't!" one particularly outspoken Gryffindor blurted.

"So that gives any of you the right to attack someone with an explosive?" Minerva snapped, her body stiffening in outrage. "Each student riding on that dragon tonight had permission to do so from their Head of House. You, had you even thought to ask, could have come to me for permission—had you thought enough to attend the picnic in the first place to know what was required of you."

"She's a bloody FREAK!" Lavender wailed shrilly as if that somehow explained everything.

"You told us not to go to the picnic because she would be there!" another student protested in outrage. "We missed out on riding a dragon because of YOU!"

Multiple angry accusations flew towards Lavender and Parvati.

"QUIET!" Minerva hissed furiously, her hair standing on end, cat-like. "It is obvious that the reason the whole lot of you are here is not solely because of Miss Brown and Miss Patil."

Lavender and Parvati made sour faces at the others.

"You all made the decision to listen to them and chose to ostracise those attending a public picnic that the entire school was invited to. I happen to know quite a few Ravenclaws also declined to attend, but only because they chose to study for tomorrow's exams instead. Regardless of the reason, whether anyone chose to go or not falls directly on each individual's shoulders, so if you are going to blame someone, blame yourselves."

Minerva curled her lip in disgust as her hands reflexively clenched and relaxed. "Now, Senior Auror John Savage is here with Trainee Auror Peyton Reese to take your official statements, and Chief Obliviator Maximus Schmart will be extracting your memories into vials due to the suspicious use of stolen fireworks that have not been released to the public for sale as of yet. Your parents will all be informed of the particulars by night's end. Now, kindly line up here in alphabetical order by last name and you will all remain utterly silent as you await your turn, is that understood?"

The children whispered uneasily to each other.

"Is that understood?" Minerva repeated, her eyes narrowed in unmistakable warning.

"Yes, Headmistress," they replied quietly, looking down.

Minerva narrowed her eyes at them. "Good."

She waved her hand at the Aurors. "You may begin."

The Aurors, looking quite inclined to do precisely what the Headmistress required of them, immediately set to work.

Hermione awoke in a cocoon of warm wing—

Her master's wing!

She looked around, carefully moving the membrane of his wing to the side to peer out from the blissfully comforting dark. His wing flexed, wrapping her more securely against his warmth, and she settled, feeling comforted despite the impromptu siesta with her most important beings.

Surely it wouldn't be so bad to have a nice lie-in?

Right?

I mean—he's obviously okay with it, she thought. Even if he probably didn't mean to fall asleep on the comfy non-dragon sofa.

Warm fur and gentle purring told her that Zorion was there with her, and Tanith's soft hissing snores told her that she wasn't exactly alone. Bertje yawn-squeaked in her ear canal, and Hermione tugged on Snape's wing to draw it closed even as Tov snuggled close to her, stuffing her head into Hermione's armpit while Kai whined softly and coated her lower leg in lava where his head was resting.

Her master had a really accommodating set of wings!

Comforted by that thought, Hermione curled up against her master and let sleep carry her off again.

Two Traumatised Teen Girls Unfairly Accused of Serious Crimes While Starting a Revolutionary New Beauty Shop!

While we dearly miss our most beloved Rita Skeeter, that one-of-a-kind bringer of truth to the masses of Wizarding Britain, fear not! I, Rex Pratt, will now bring you the unvarnished truth of the terrible conspiracy brewing within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!

Two young, innocent, entrepreneurial witches have been singled out for having the courage and wit to maintain not only a rock solid friendship despite being separated at school by the Headmaster but also possessing the unparalleled genius to fund their dream business providing beauty products for today's most discerning witches.

However, their dreams were recently dashed when Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, an owl-order joke supply business that had provided them funding by allowing the girls to resell their items for a cut of the profits, decided to turn around and accuse the pair of having stolen the items in question!

Accused of having sold the very products to the Irish World Cup team fanatics that attempted to attack the Bulgarian team while they were signing autographs in Diagon Alley, the young witches are now beside themselves with grief that they have been betrayed not only by their business partners but also that they have been accused of assaulting an uppity young guest apprentice with intent to inflict serious bodily harm.

The girls claim the firework was shot off in celebration with no intent to harm anyone, only to be carried off in the wind against their foreknowledge.

The blind-sighted master of the apprentice who was supposedly targeted has given many (very likely tampered with) memories to the Aurors in "evidence" of the poor witches' alleged crimes.

The barrister for the two students involved has assured us that they are going to press for monetary compensation for the damage to their fine reputation and also severe psychological trauma resulting from the shameful incident, promising that both the school and their primary accuser, Master Severus Snape, will pay through the teeth for having singled out his youthful clients with false accusations of wrongdoing.

Memo

From: Barnabas Cuffe, Editor

To: All Daily Prophet employees

Do not under any circumstances attempt to report on Master Snape or his apprentice unless you want personal visitations from the minions of darkness.

I'm not sure what Rex Pratt was attempting to accomplish by pressing for interviews over at Hogwarts, but he came back babbling and drooling, and the Aurors who were there managing the case witnessed the entire thing.

They aren't saying anything, but Rex won't stop screaming about the tides of darkness and how we're all going to die horribly.

So, unless you want your career to fall into the Abyss along with his and that of the infamous Ms Skeeter, don't you DARE go about performing any exposés unless you clear it with me first!

Got it?

Good!

The second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament arrived while the waters were still a bit frigid, and the snow had only just ceased coating the Scottish moors with an impressively thick layer of frozen white.

Cold wasn't even an adequate word to describe the merciless biting chill in the air.

Many wondered if Scotland had somehow been replaced by the Arctic Circle—

Severus decided it would be a good idea to have the seating appropriately heated—dragon-style.

Smuggling the dragons underneath the bleachers, the dragons took turns blasting the magical coals placed in warming urns, making a fun game of it, and the newly-hatched dragonets were joining in with short baby blasts of fire and sparks.

No longer locked into watching a nest, the mother dragons seemed much more mellow and able to tolerate the loud cheering above them, satisfied by Snape's careful weaving of the privacy blind under the seating bleachers.

Hermione seemed happy enough to hang out under the seating with the dragons and her master instead of above with the others watching the drama unfold. The raucous cheering and jeering, ooohing and ahhhing was a bit too much for her to take on her own.

As far as she had come, she was still seeking comfort from those she knew she could trust, and those were ever fewer and far between.

Fenrir yawned so long that he squeaked at the end, his tail moving up and down with a rapid thump, thump, thump.

"Awww, are you sleepy, Fen?" Hermione asked, rubbing him between the ears.

The werewolf tongue lolled happily at the attention, giving her swift licks across the face. He rolled over onto his back and exposed his belly in a very unsubtle hint.

Hermione laughed, rubbing his belly fur until he pumped his legs in blissful abandon.

Zorion pawed jealously at Hermione's knee, wanting her share of the attention.

Hermione laughed, cuddling the cub and tickling her whiskers with her face.

The Nundu cub purred and purred, obviously quite happy with the outcome.

Kai pouted as only a volcanic nightmare pup could by exuding a puddle of lava into Hermione's lap.

Hermione sighed. "Whatever am I going to do with you all?"

Tanith hissed her amusement from around Hermione's warm neck.

Bertje tried her best to butter up Snape for his warm lap, and the potions master just sighed as though she were being utterly insufferable.

The dragonet, however, was not impressed by his grandstanding, snuggled over his legs, and gave a toothy yawning squeak before tucking her head under her wing like a scaly feline. Then Tovenares placed her head on Snape's knee, eyeing the smaller dragonet with a wistful desire for Snape's warm lap.

Snape sighed. It was getting pretty hard to be an aloof, private, self-contained individual when things determinedly chose to keep him company and actually preferred it. Not that Hermione really counted in that inclusion—

She'd become so integrated into his life that he couldn't really imagine life without her. She'd replaced his Mark—

Now the swirling designs twined around his arm just like a living growth of vines and leaves—but the warmth of her very presence replaced that part of him that thought of the Mark every day or wondered what new torment the Dark Lord would inflict upon his life—

Instead of dread, he woke up to the unique sensations of acceptance and trust.

She trusted him and because she trusted him, they trusted him—

Her beasts, her entourage, her friends of the four-footed or floating—

And he no more wished to disappoint her than they did.

She was… special.

He tried to remember a time when he'd ever felt so trusted—even liked.

He tried to remember what it was like when Lily had been alive.

What had it felt like to be in her good graces?

Had it been anything like this?

Even close?

He couldn't—

He tried to remember what it had felt like—the sun on his face under the willow tree, the feel of her touch. They were all the very things that had powered his doe Patronus for well over a decade—

Now, his mind, no, his very soul, was warm with new memories. The touch of Hermione tucked under his wing… hell, the fact he even had wings and could fly, the look of her trusting gaze, the genuine warmth in her eyes that seemed to radiate from her like the sun's radiation, the feeling of absolute joy when his Dark Mark had been obliterated, knowing that he'd never be enslaved to such a master again—

Was it any wonder his Patronus had changed to that of the ancient temple dogs of Asian myth?

His doe was now gone, gone with his adolescent fantasy of a life with his childhood friend who had held his only positive memories in childhood with an angry and abusive alcoholic father and a weak, weepy, utterly cowed mum.

He should have been angry that someone as treasured as that had been taken away from him, and yet the more he thought about it the more he realised what had been taken from him had been an ideal he had crafted to protect himself from a harsher reality.

Lily had been like a bloody goddess to him. Perfect in every possible way. Bright, brilliant, beautiful, and courageous, such a valiant defender of all against the Darkness of the world.

Only—

She really wasn't, was she?

Hermione just walked straight into Sofa's mouth and pulled out a chunk of bone stuck between her teeth and then used polishing charms on the dragon's inner molars to clean off the accumulated tartar and plaque.

Then there was Hermione—their glorious young (actual) goddess-in-training who had no idea how much power she truly had over both beasts and mortals.

She relied on him, Severus Inglorious Bastard Snape, to guide her, to teach her—

"You're really not, you know," Hermione said quietly as she patted Sofa on the nose.

Snape jolted.

"You always get that look on your face when you're depreciating yourself."

She looked at him, and for a moment, it seemed like her hair was wreathed in a halo of radiant sunlight. "I get the very same look," she said after a while. "Whenever I doubt myself."

Snape sighed. "Doubt is a normal thing, but you are far from inept or unable to learn."

Hermione smiled. "The same would apply to you, wouldn't it, Master?"

Severus knit his eyebrows together. She was right. He wasn't exactly an old stick in the mud, now was he?

He nodded to her. "You are correct," he said with a snort, "but that is quite enough of your cheek."

Hermione beamed up at him, and he found he couldn't even try to be irritated by her impertinence. She was simply too genuine and compassionate.

Her ever-growing entourage was perfectly content to heat the place up comfortably, and Grandfather and the other Dementors respectfully kept their distance, the better not to freeze the poor spectators to the bleachers by their rumps. While the view wasn't all that spectacular from where they were sequestered, Hermione found that she didn't really mind. She had her beasts to tend to and soothe, and that was what they were there for. Snape had absolutely no interest or care for the trials of the tournament, and Hermione did not have any Hogwarts friends that would have had her cheering along with them in hopes of a great victory for her school. If anything, she did wish Viktor and Fleur the best on their tasks, knowing that they would do their absolute best.

As for Cedric and Hagrid, Hermione seemed rather unengaged, Cedric because she had never really known the wizard and Hagrid because the half-giant was no longer as accepting of her as he had once been. Drama seemed to follow the half-giant, and Hermione was about as apt to run towards drama as Severus was.

Now, with her beasts to tend, lessons to learn, and keeping a watchful eye on the dragons, Hermione seemed to want to stay well away from drama as much as possible. Being accused of stealing from the Diagon Alley food vendor, then by Hagrid over "his" baby dragon (spell on him or not), being called a Dementor lover, her supposed best female friend stealing from her and making up a shaming letter to send her out during a full moon in floods of tears, Molly bloody Weasley accusing her of targeting her family with her hateful spite—

No, Hermione had every reason to think the beasts were far more loyal and genuine than human beings. Dementors had been her first friends that refused to abandon her, and the irony in that fact was thick indeed. Now, with the dragons content and even "civilised"on a scale of draconic behaviour, things were looking quite positive for the DoM having their own team of guardian dragons, the likes of which only Gringotts had ever seen.

Master Glen Edevane was utterly ecstatic at the prospect of "real dragons" in residence in the DoM.

Mr Stebbins, the DoM's creature caretaker, was distinctly less than pleased with the news given that the massive beastly pile up incident with Hermione had almost resulted in him being shipped off to the polar regions.

As for the Triwizard tournament, Snape figured they would be heading back to the DoM now that the dragons' part in the tournament was over—provided that Amelia's crew had finished with the necessary "renovations" to suitably accommodate the addition of the draconic menagerie.

He had a feeling that Minerva really wanted him to stay on longer, but Severus was as apt to want to stay in a school full of dunderheaded children who specialised in blowing themselves up as he desired to go for a walk through the bog at dusk and get eaten alive by a seething horde of bloodthirsty mosquitoes.

It was much safer living and working in the DoM, it was a vastly more accepting environment for Hermione, and he placed her happiness and safety far above all else. What Minerva wanted was irrelevant to him, despite him not being on bad terms with her. Hermione's continued safety, education, and well-being was all-important to him, and there was no doubt in his mind that she was better accommodated both in and at the DoM and not Hogwarts.

He was pretty sure the Founders were rolling about in their unquiet graves over that fact.

The DoM also featured lessons from Master Manfred Morgan, Hermione's favourite teacher (other than Severus himself), who taught her beast medicine, the likes of which was unequalled by anyone else in the world. It was rumoured that even Newt Scamander had studied under Master Morgan for some time after being expelled from Hogwarts, but instead of staying at the DoM, Scamander had absconded with a valise full of exotic animals and a mission to free a captive thunderbird from somewhere in Eastern Europe and take it back across the pond.

As Severus understood it, people did not usually choose to leave the DoM, but every so often someone like Rookwood would squeeze in between the cracks and muck things up or else someone like Newt Scamander would seem to fit in perfectly and then swan off to liberate someone or something or multiple somethings. Those that did choose to leave were saddled with so many protective oaths or simply Obliviated and given a fake past so temptation never came up.

The problem, as Amelia was now realising, was that there were those like Rookwood that needed protections in place before even thinking of retiring—

One bad apple, as they say—

But, even with the contract they had signed, the wages had been more than fair, the opportunities more than ample, and the chances of wanting to leave were virtually close to nil. No matter how much Minerva wanted to convince him to come back, there wasn't enough at Hogwarts to hold him and what little there was was outweighed by the sheer number of bad memories and even worse memories.

That was something she had had a hand in as well, whether she realised it or not, for she had blindly followed Dumbledore's orders and accepted his reasoning, never once suspecting that the manipulative old coot was actually lying to her face.

Dumbledore had been more than skilled in the fine art of deception and the twisting of truths to whitewash any lie that might be detected and carefully avoiding the need to admit to what was really going on in the castle.

The former Headmaster's recent descent into a sort of feline madness, however, remained utterly baffling. It wasn't normal, even amongst far less talented Legilimancers, for one to be so completely consumed by another's thoughts—be it that of beasts or otherwise.

Even so, the strength of the bonds between Hermione and her beasts, him, and the Dementors (who were hardly beasts) pointed to the possibility that Dumbledore had tried to do what he always did—read Hermione's mind to ascertain what was going on. Only it hadn't ended in his favour, and the old wizard's mind had gotten bitch-slapped mentally.

Slapped so hard that it seemed that his mind had just gotten lost in the raging stream of bestial instincts and possibly the very alien thoughts of the Dementors as well.

Yet—

Snape felt no disharmony in the bond with the beasts and beings that had decided one Hermione Granger could be shared between them, and even he, as her master, did not feel so very insecure that he would feel jealousy over her compassion. She had more than enough to share; it was certain.

It was always so very certain.

If anything, any insecurity he felt was with the rising knot in his stomach that when her time with him was done, she would extricate herself from his life as apprentices always did and then setting off to blaze her own trail, conquering the world in her own fashion—perhaps he might get a letter at Christmas as she detailed how she was going to marry some young beau and have a clutch of winged children.

He snorted. It would take a truly extraordinary person to be able to accept Hermione Granger, both for all that she was and what she was not. It was obvious to him that her peers were incapable of it in most cases, and only the fear of Snape himself had forced Slytherin to re-evaluate things.

Gryffindor, however, was a sodding mess.

Hermione still didn't trust Harry despite being perfectly civil to him, and it was very clear that being social with him was terribly exhausting for her. She'd stomp over to him after a few hours, burrow into his wings, and sulk and brood for another hour until the "funk" finally dissipated.

Then, she emerged from her cocoon made of his wings and bounced off refreshed and cheerful once more.

It was such a strange feeling—being there for her. For anyone.

But it wasn't such a horrible feeling—

That was new.

So much of what had happened because of Hermione Granger was new, different—even welcome.

As a child he had been a slave to his infatuation with Lily Evans.

As a teen, he had been a slave to power, wanting it and to prove himself better than his tormentors.

As an adult, he was a slave to two megalomaniacs.

But what he had with Hermione was different, it began and ended with trust. So basic and yet—

So rare.

He would have to have faith that when the time came for her to leave his side as an apprentice that she would not abandon him like so many other things in his life he thought he could rely on.

"You be a good dragon, Sofa," Hermione said as she hugged the mother dragon's muzzle. "You're the last one, and we picked the very best mountain we could find for you!"

The mother dragon rumbled appreciatively as Hermione gently patted her snout.

"I hope they'll all be okay," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Severus itched one wing with the other's wing spur. "I think you picked very good places for them to have their nest. They all have their own territories, places away from humans to raise their hatchlings, and plenty of game for them to hunt."

Hermione giggled as Sofa snorted a puff of steam at her, and she smiled. "I'll miss you, too, Sofa," she said. "You take care of your hatchlings, okay?"

The mother dragon nodded, curving her tail around her clutch but still nuzzling Hermione affectionately.

"It's unfortunate that the outbreak of Dragon Talon-Mouth Disease made it so we couldn't hold the dragon-handling classes. I think all the dragons were really looking forward to it," Hermione said sadly.

Hermione eyed the additional "adoptee" eggs in the nest with Sofa with a sad smile. "At least all the mums are okay with raising extra eggs. I just hope they don't get sick too."

Severus sighed softly. "I cannot say for certain, but we have them far enough away from the known dragon areas, so hopefully that means they will be far enough from any disease vectors that affected the sick dragons. It was a grand idea. The timing was just—truly unfortunate."

Hermione nodded. "They will be healthy and have their freedom. That makes me happy." She gave Sofa a last, fond pat. "Take care of yourself, Sofa! Thank you for trusting me!"

The mother dragon huffed warmth at her and curled protectively around her nest, her colours shifting like a chameleon to match the very pattern of the mountain itself.

Hermione and Severus leapt up into the air, wings outstretched. After a few seconds, they Disapparated with a crack.

Albus Dumbledore Returns to Hogwarts!

Healers Give Him Clean Bill of Health

Parents Hope His Return Will Resolve Latest Rash of Strange Magical Mishaps!

"Albus, as much you might think it possible, it is not," Minerva said firmly. "No one, not me or anyone else, can counter the sheer amount of stupidity that happens around Hogwarts through no fault of our own short of placing permanent sticking charms on arses to glue them to their seats and putting them all under paralysis so they can't move around while being taught. But that's hardly an appropriate solution."

Albus slowly rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I wasn't gone for all that long, Minerva. And now we have students trapped in some sort of a seventies hippie movement—even Hagrid? I have Molly Weasley breathing fire down my neck via constant howlers because she heard that her daughter showed up to the Triwizard ball dressed as, and I quote, a bloody whore?"

Minerva frowned. "Albus, we cannot possibly police every single student like they are just waiting for an opportunity to do something overwhelmingly stupid. We all know that accidents and such are going to happen from time to time, but unless you ward the school against every conceivable problem that could potentially occur, it's just not possible to prevent everything remotely untoward from happening! All I could do was punish student misdeeds done equally and make sure that no house got away with claiming revenge. And for the most part, everyone fell in line but a scant few—and it was those few who were the cause of the various calamities that occurred in your absence. And I really must protest your claim that most of this rests on Severus' shoulders for having taken on an apprentice and then leaving Hogwarts. He has done nothing but see to the well-being of his charge and ensure that her education is both solid and fair. He has kept her from the other students unless there is another teacher present to help mitigate any misunderstandings. Lucius was nothing but helpfu—"

"Lucius," the headmaster said with a dark scowl. "We would not need him here if it hadn't been for Severus."

"Albus, not everything hinges on Severus always being here at Hogwarts! We have other teachers!"

"Severus promised me he would remain here if he was needed!" Albus snapped.

"Prom—" Minerva replied in confusion. "Why would you ever hold him to a promise like that, Albus? You know he disliked being here. He disliked teaching. I've never seen him so content since he left us. So healthy. Did he make this promise back when he was so trauma—"

"He PROMISED me," Albus said stubbornly. "I NEED him here, Minerva."

"Albus, you told Alastor that you respected Severus' judgement and that he should respect the bond between master and apprentice. So why are you now so Merlin-blessed adamant that he must return to his position here at Hogwarts?"

"If he had stayed here, it wouldn't have—"

"Why does it even matter?" Minerva protested, looking baffled. "You always said you cared about him! That you wanted him to thrive here. But he never did. Not until now. Why would you seek to take that away from him?"

"Granger is dangerous," Albus growled. "Severus needs to get away from her insidious influence."

"Dangerous?" Minerva said with a shocked gasp. "No. Not her. She is a sweet, caring young girl. She wants nothing more than to succeed in her studies and perhaps earn a bit of praise along the way. Even her charges now have greatly improved temperaments because of her. Albus, are you quite certain you're alright? You never had this strange grudge against Miss Granger before. You thought she was good for Severus."

"While he was here—"

"Here, there, wherever! Why are you so bloody convinced that he must be here for that good to remain good? Where could we possibly house her vast array of creatures here even if they agreed to this? Dementors. Werewolf. Nundu. Volcanic nightmare hounds—a dragonet, a dragon hatchling—do be realistic, Albus! The DoM has the space and facilities to accommodate everything they need, including assisting Severus with his apprenticeship. We can't possibly do the same here, save to provide a temporary spot in the forest while she's tending the dragons. Even Alastor thinks Severus is looking better than he ever has before, and you know quite well that Alastor and Severus get on about as well as an Erumpent in a china shop."

Minerva frowned as she stared at a visibly agitated Albus pacing back and forth in his office. She realised that, until that moment, she had never truly doubted Albus' desire to do what was best for his students and staff—even when she sometimes doubted the purity of his motives. She had always figured he had some larger scope and a cosmic lens with which to view events.

Now, however, she had some serious concerns.

Albus shooed her out of his office, and she silently walked out, unsure about who to talk to or better yet—who would ever believe her?

"I didn't really expect to get all these gifts when we left," Hermione confessed as she packed each of them into a crate. Piles of crates lay all around them as they organised what they had gathered during their dragon-sitting adventure, and Horace Slughorn was happily taking the extra dragon sheds, scales, and trimmed claws for his personal collection.

Lucius assisted Severus in carefully packing up the more delicate equipment.

"However did you convince Horace to assist with the potions class?" Severus asked.

"Dumbledore seems to think we need a few extra eyes in my potions classes after the latest run of accidents," Lucius said with a sigh.

Severus shrugged. "It might not be such a bad idea. A lot happens during a potions class that has nothing to do with the potion itself and everything to do with hormone-fueled teenage stupidity."

"Doesn't even have to be hormone-fueled," Lucius said with a smirk. "Sometimes the stupidity is in the blood."

Severus' lips tugged in a small smile.

"Did you gift me this?" Hermione asked pleasantly, waving the warm cloak of deep crimson velvet with fur trim.

"To keep you varm since dragons not with you now, Her-my-own," Viktor said with clear affection as he wrapped it snugly around her shoulders. "My мама made it for you. She hears all of my stories. My dad reads my letters to her while she sews and makes tapestries."

He drew out the cloak for her and showed her the inside that featured an epic scene of dragon-riding across a blue and cloud-filled sky over Hogwarts castle. "You like, I hope?"

"I love it," she said in awe, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek. "Thank your mother for me, please?"

Viktor fastened it around her shoulders and smiled. He pulled something out of his pocket. "Like you have dis," he said awkwardly, his word order slightly scrambled. "Is—feather mine. Would like—big brother yours. Your knight forever."

Hermione beamed up at him. "Oh, Viktor, I would love to be your sister!" She hugged him tight as he magicked the feather into her hair where it seemed to blend in with her wild curls and then disappear. A heated surge of Krum family magic resonated between them.

He kissed her forehead. "Den my сестра you are. Brother—брат— yours now and forever. Майка says you must come visit in summer, yes?"

Hermione nodded fervently. "Of course. As long as my master agrees." She glanced over to where Severus was, and he nodded slightly in agreement as he continued to chat with Lucius. "Besides, if Майка is asking, I must, of course, make every effort."

Viktor laughed and nodded.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stay to watch you win the tournament," Hermione apologised.

"Nnn, who said I vin? Could lose," he said teasingly.

"Doubtful," Hermione said with a laugh.

"You be safe on vay home to DoM," Viktor said.

Fen gggrrrufffed as if to protest that he was not a bad guard to have.

Viktor gently rubbed his ears. "You be good verevolf," he said with a chuckle. "Keep cubs out of pie."

Fen wagged his tail, having great experience in keeping both Zorion the Nundu cub and Kai the Volcanic Nightmare pup out of the pudding.

"Vhere is all of your entourage?" Viktor asked as he helped store the packages in the crates along with her.

"Master had me send them home to the DoM to wait for us so they weren't underfoot here while we were packing. Too many delicate things to pack and far too many very curious paws and claws."

Viktor chuckled. "Master right. Cub and pup probably go stalk centaur across forest and forget to come home."

Hermione nodded ruefully. "They always follow their noses. They try to stay close to me most times. Tesfaye and Aine somehow manage to keep them all safe."

"Supernatural beasts have otherly senses to stave off otherly mischief of spawn," Viktor said knowledgeably. "Should know. Parents kept baby Roc out of high tension wires."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You—"

"Vas wery oblivious chick," Viktor said with a smile.

"I've been adopted by rocs?" Hermione squeaked.

Viktor smiled wickedly. "Problem?"

"That's so cool!" Hermione laughed. "I thought you were an Animagus."

"Am. In reverse," Viktor explained. "Vhy don't fall off broom, da?"

Hermione laughed.

"Must go," Viktor said apologetically. "Must study and practice before sun sets. High Master wants us to rest tonight. No crazy."

Hermione chuckled. "Crazy?"

Viktor smiled mischievously. "Ve boys. Always crazy." He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, clicking his heels together as he bowed.

"My best to High Master Fendrikova," Hermione said.

Viktor nodded and launched into the air, his great wings spread against the sky to blot out the sun before he banked toward Hogwarts and away.

Hermione looked down and smiled and then up at the high sky, watching the puffy white clouds move across a cerulean blue canvas. "It's still beautiful here," she said with a soft sigh. "Even after everything."

She looked back at her master and Lucius and smiled, marvelling at how much at peace he looked as the dappled sun came through the tree canopy. It pleased her to see him looking so relaxed—happy that they were going back home again. He seemed so much younger when he allowed himself to accept the world around him instead of fighting everything.

Being with the beasts had taught her a lot about accepting, forgiving, and going with the flow rather than fighting against the current. A Nundu didn't throw a temper tantrum after missing their prey. They would just start over and try again. And through learning through her master and the beasts, the Dementors—she was realising that everything deserved a fair chance at life. Yes, even if they were—an arse. She was just glad they were going back to the DoM where things were, while not perfectly peaceful, at least more pragmatic about magical humans, beasts, and what have you living all together.

Sighing, she went back to packing, having finished with all the absolutely necessary stuff, then she saw more owls had dropped off even more packages, not even bothering to wait for a reward before flying off to the owlry.

She saw a prettily beribboned green and silver parcel and smiled. Draco and Theo had both promised to surprise her with something really nice so she'd remember them before the summer hols. She was hoping it was some of Draco's mum's secret recipe double chocolate biscuits—the kind the house elves were supposed to make but she liked making them herself. Narcissa had even shared the recipe with her because she was "a witch and would understand these things."

Hermione wasn't quite sure what that meant, honestly, but she was happy that Narcissa trusted her with her secret baking recipes. Having already been gifted such a wonderful cloak from Viktor, she wondered what else lurked in that gift box from Draco and the others. With a gentle tug she released the ribbon, and the paper burst open as if concealing some large object. Something began to fall, and she instinctively reached to grab it to keep it from hitting the floor.

There was the quick, sharp pain of a jab to her fingertip and a single drop of her blood welled forth onto the sharpened nib of a silver writing quill. The quill lit up with a sickly green glow and there was a powerful surge of magic just before the quill vanished without a trace.

Hermione suddenly felt as if a tremendous weight had come crashing down on her from all sides, her vision began to darken around the edges, and she staggered, letting out a pained, confused-sounding whimper. A terrible weakness seemed to rush over her body as her legs gave out and she sagged onto poor Fen, who let out an equally confused whine—and then they both collapsed together in a tangled heap of limbs.

Severus let out a strangled, strangely choking groan as he abruptly slumped and fell heavily against Lucius. Lucius, visibly startled, gathered the other man in his arms rather awkwardly, utterly unhinged and baffled as to what one was supposed to do when a grown man suddenly collapses practically on top of you.

Lucius slapped the side of Severus' face, attempting to rouse him, but his black eyes seemed to cloud over as his entire body went limp.

"Severus—"

"SEVERUS!"

"Severus, for the love of Merlin—SEVERUS!"

For once in his life, Lucius truly regretted that he couldn't cast a Patronus, and so he ran down the path of the Dark Forest toward a possible source of help.

"It's some sort of Sleeping Beauty curse," Poppy said as she slumped wearily into her chair. "But there's something very odd about this one. It appears that there is another more insidious intent behind it. It's causing Apprentice Granger to age one year every single day, and all that are connected to her via magic are now in a sleep they cannot be awoken from."

"Severus?" Albus asked, his jaw tense.

"He, too, is in the same enchanted sleep, Headmaster." Poppy ran a shaky hand through her hair. "Was there anything left behind at the site where they were found?"

Albus shook his head slowly. "Only what they were packing up at the time, and none of it was anything you wouldn't expect to find when someone is moving elsewhere. Well, other than the gifts themselves. And absolutely nothing untoward was found amongst them."

Albus frowned. "And we are certain it is a Sleeping Beauty curse?"

"It is, at least in part, Headmaster," Poppy said. "But there are some more insidious elements. Those who tried to break the curse by bestowing a kiss have fallen into an enchanted sleep as well, and with each unsuccessful attempt, she ages approximately five more years."

"WHAT?!" Albus demanded.

"It is a horrendously malicious curse," Poppy explained. "The reason for devising the original spell must have been something very emotionally driven. It is the only way I can explain its unusual power beyond the normal indicators. I have already had a few of my colleagues at Mungos try to analyse it, but short of the DoM, I do not—"

"No," Albus snapped. "I will not have Madam Bones sniffing around here any more than she already has."

"But, Headmaster, they are both D.o—"

"They were ours first," Albus insisted adamantly. "I want them both moved to the isolation room reserved for any students with Spattergroit. I don't want any other students sneaking in here attempting to help cure Miss Granger. I need to nullify this tenacious bond between the two of them so she doesn't take all of them with her."

"But—"

Dumbledore had already stormed out of the infirmary.

"Yes, Headmaster," Poppy said with a mournful sigh.

Albus snarled in sheer frustration when every attempt to sever the bond between Granger and Severus caused her to age another year, and it seemed that for every five years she aged, Snape took one for the team along with her.

Her skin—was alive in those eerie alien tattoos that moved across her body like a living tapestry. And with every attempt he did, one of those infernal markings would come to life and bite him in a magical sense.

Worse, Amelia Damnable Bones was yelling through his Floo that she wanted to talk to him, and he didn't want her sticking her nose into his bloody business before he could fix this royal sodding cockup. And he certainly didn't need any more of his students being dragged before the Wizengamot over childish pranks, innocent mistakes, and emotionally charged accidents.

He rubbed his temples. Things had seemed so much easier before he'd had to go to Mungos. Calmer.

But now he was starting to think that was because he'd been rather oblivious at the time. He needed Severus back at Hogwarts just in case the Dark Lord had more nefarious plans up his sleeve.

Rumours were just rumours, after all.

There was no way that Tom had possessed a Weasley arse—no way that Ronald Weasley had Imperiused his own father. No way. He was still out there, and he needed Severus back to be his agent on the inside.

He pulled up Severus' sleeve to look at the Mark to confirm Tom's taint and blinked.

NO!

This wasn't right at all!

Moving across his alabaster skin was the start of Granger's strange alien markings, growing and already beginning to spread from a spot on his arm where the Mark had once been.

He immediately tried to exorcise it with magic, and he was thrown back by the phantom chomp of Fenrir's teeth—and the tattoos spread a little further up his arm.

And yet again, Granger seemed to age.

No!

What was this insidious magic?

Dumbledore grimaced.

He needed Severus back at his side. He needed to be sure the Dark Lord was well and truly stricken from power and never coming back—

But without the Mark, Severus' usefulness as a spy was entirely defeated.

And he refused to believe that it could possibly be proof of Tom being well and truly dead or even taken out of the picture. No, Tom was still very much a threat.

Tom always made sure he had another way out and secondary one, even a hundred-some potential alternatives.

There was no way that his plans had been foiled so abruptly, not when no one had ever been able to take Tom down before—well, save for himself, and even that was temporary.

That was the danger.

He kept on coming back.

So, Tom would be back, again. And again. And again—not unless the prophesied Chosen One, Harry Potter, took him out for good.

But he had to break this tenacious bond with Granger.

He wasn't sure why he felt so very strongly about it. Part of it—he felt like it hadn't always been that way. Something must have changed, but he dismissed it as him having a moment of clarity and recognising Granger as a grave threat to his plans.

His jaw set.

It was time for him to call in an old favour that was long overdue.

"You wish me to what?" Sanguini's body was utterly still like a statue. There was no waver and no breath. Not the slightest indicator of life.

"The ageing must be stopped," Albus said heavily.

"So you want me to Turn her?" Sanguini's voice was rife with disbelief. "Do you have any idea what that does to a body? To a mind? Even a willing one?"

"I have allowed you to attend these dinners at Slughorn's request for many years, Mr Sanguini," Albus remarked. "What I need from you now is to save her life."

"She is not dying," Sanguini observed.

"She is ageing very rapidly. That eventually leads to dying," Albus said.

"I am aware," Sanguini said, his voice almost a whisper, his anger like distant thunder or the hint of rain. "Why not find her true love and break the curse like a normal person?"

"Every failed attempt results in another sleeping who won't wake up, and no one else is willing to take the risk."

"So you think 'Oh, well, alright, we'll just turn her into a vampire!'?" Sanguini retorted.

"Nothing else is working," Albus said. "Many have tried. Poppy has tried everything in her power to stop it."

Sanguini's fingers touched Hermione's cheek as she lay in stasis for the first time, having avoided doing so much like one might avoid touching a plague victim, but even as they had been standing there talking, she had already aged another year. But, the moment his fingers touched her, his eyes were swallowed up in black and crimson as a flicker of pure gold flashed across his irises. His lips parted in an instinctual hiss, his eyes half-lidded to some unseen tug of highly powerful, sensual magic.

"You have no idea what you will release the moment my fangs touch her neck, Headmaster. The moment she takes my blood—I beg you to reconsider and simply let nature take its fated path. If she wishes to become a vampire, she would need only ask, but this—this is pushing the wagon of fate before its horse. I would have to teach her in the most intimate way possible how to control her Turn to keep her from taking the lives of a hundred people walking these very grounds and she is already seeped in mystical, supernatural energy. Do not the draconic wings upon her back tell you this? She has a strong bond to a master who truly cares for her. There is much more than just her life on the line in this. Her ultimate fate is not yours to decide. It is already bound to her master's. Think of what that will do to her master as well."

"I am aware of the risks, but it is imperative that those students that inadvertently caused this are not charged with murder," Dumbledore said.

"And me?" Sanguini hissed. "You would have me kill her instead?"

"She will still be alive."

"Only after I hold her to my body as she dies!"

"I will have you recall your promise to me," Albus said darkly.

"You have hardly allowed me to forget it, child," Sanguini said evenly through half-bared teeth. "You may have freed me from the yoke of my sire, however unintentionally, but have yet to ask me for one boon, and you would hold me to this?"

"This is my choice, Mr Sanguini," Dumbledore replied stiffly. "This is me holding you to your promise."

"I must warn you but one last time, Albus Dumbledore," Sanguini said, his voice going deep and formal. "Do not do this, for this shall be the beginning of your end. Why not use your favour and have me rid you of your own, rather bizarre curse?"

"This is what I want from you," Albus said stubbornly. "This alone shall free you of your promise to me for saving your 'life'."

Sanguini's eyes darkened. "The time will come and you, Albus, will suffer more than anyone." (HBGA)

"But the future will be saved," Albus argued.

The vampire's eyes were now completely black as his demeanour became predatory. Power flowed off of him like rain dripping off a raincoat. He unfastened his vest, pulling free his collar and sloughing off his clothing from the waist up.

His body was as pale as alabaster and flawless, like finely sculpted marble. He pulled at the ribbon that kept his hair back in a ponytail, and his long black hair cascaded around his shoulders like a waterfall of ink. His muscles rippled—once hidden by his carefully tailored robes—the hidden badge of a warrior long past. His pianist's fingers tapered into a set of perfectly manicured crystalline claws, floating across his chest and down the treasure trail to his groin, sliding across his black silk pants.

His eyes met Dumbledore's.

"Leave us."

The Headmaster stiffly fled the infirmary, not really wanting to go but quite unable to stay as the awesome roll of Sanguini's previously dormant, carefully hidden, meticulously concealed power commanded that he leave the room at once.

Sanguini had always been very careful about showing his true power. Having a master who murdered every one of his fledglings that even showed a hint of becoming more powerful had made such vigilant concealment an absolute necessity.

It didn't matter that Sanguini hadn't believed he could even face his master or ever wanted to bring such fury upon himself. It kept him alive and off the radar of his master's terrible wrath.

For centuries upon centuries, he made himself seem no better than the newest of fledgelings. He purposely feigned that he had to do things harder for lack of strength, concentrating on thinking weak, helpless thoughts rimmed in anger born of injustice—just so he would seem like any other fledgeling too weak to stand up for themselves. He took the beatings. He fed upon leftovers and animals—

He had lured both peasant and royalty to his master's bed and then suffered the hunger denied as his master fed well. He was a good and proper little slave. A dutiful little weakling who seemed utterly debased and humiliated but far too cowed to even think of doing anything to change his fate—just as his master desired.

His master had gotten so used to the idea of him being a worthless piece of flesh that he rarely even questioned just how bad he was or that he never seemed to improve. Perhaps, he thought him to be a stupid warrior, one whose brain was far too primitive for higher thought.

Such prejudice served him well.

So, when Albus had accidentally murdered his Sire amidst a fierce battle with Grindelwald, he found himself bound by the Wizarding magical life debt—but again, Sanguini found it was easier to pretend to be weak and oblivious, even an irredeemably unlearnt example of vampiric power.

It allowed him access to Hogwarts and Slughorn's little 'Slug Club' parties as he hoped to find some hint, any sign at all that the universe didn't really want him to remain alone forever. It wouldn't matter if they were young and inexperienced—he had more than enough time to wait. Experience, he knew, he could share during the Siring. His master had done so—even if only breadcrumbs—just enough that he wouldn't go walking out into the blazing sun or leave his victim without breaking their neck if they fed too long or perhaps gave them a bit of blood, however accidentally. He knew from the stories of other vampires with far more reasonable masters that a Siring vampire could share a lifetime of memories to help their fledgeling survive—something usually saved for the finding of one's mate.

But his master did not want to share. He wanted no mate to possibly use his own tricks against himself. Someone who could know his secrets. Someone who could know his weaknesses. He wanted only the weakest of slaves.

And now—lying right in front of him, side by side—he stared cruel irony straight in the face.

There, emblazoned on this forcibly matured young witch, was the twin of his birthmark mixed within the vast array of alien tattoos that moved across her skin.

There, echoed in Severus Snape's, was his mark twice over.

Here, during the years he'd been banned from Hogwarts without Slughorn's parties to attend, his lifemates had managed to elude him.

Time was cruel and fickle.

He'd met Severus before at Slughorn's parties, but he'd never seen the mark upon him—he'd never touched him to gain a hint that it was there. But that one intoxicating touch he had given the cursed woman in front of him—for now, physically, she was no longer a child—he had felt the unmistakable pull and the distinctive electrifying and potent surge of compatibility and the immediate desire, even need, to Turn her.

But there would be no time for easing her into it.

He would have to start the process due to his promise—that godforsaken life debt—and if she repudiated him, well—

He could be like his Sire and force it upon her—

Or he could refuse to Turn her against her will and thus his life would end at long last.

His damnable Sire would be laughing in hell, happy in Sanguini's torment.

Siring, however, if he truly wished to bring them into undeath as equals, would require time. Time which was nothing to a vampire but perilous to the human's world.

Time spent in the embrace of each other and under the ground, deep within the Earth, sleeping as they learned from each other as the bond between them cemented.

Something his Sire did only at the bare minimum—a few nights at best. Enough to subjugate but not enough to bestow power or more than a mere sliver of knowledge.

But her mind would have to be carefully eased into it, not just pounded in with the torrential brain flood that his master had given him. He would have to be patient. A teacher—tempering her mind to handle a flood of new, often violent instincts that came along with Turning.

Instincts that his master had counter with extreme violence of his own.

Something Sanguini could not—would not—do to one he sired after having been subjected to such horror before.

They could be under the ground for several years getting it just right—provided it was a willing agreement.

And the chances of her agreeing to such a thing having never met him before was, well, it was hardly likely under the circumstances.

Which meant this would be Sanguini's true death.

If he refused to Turn her, he would die thanks to the lift debt to Dumbledore.

If he Turned her by force, she would fight it every step of the way and hate him for as long as she managed to live, and that would kill him all the same.

And maybe dying by refusing to do what Dumbledore had asked of him would be the better choice because he knew he would not have wanted to live knowing that he had almost had paradise—a life mate—and then lost her before he could even start living.

He grimaced, closing his eyes.

He had dreamed on so many cold, hungry nights that one day he would have something that made his existence more than just stubborn will to survive when everything was against him. Something that made his long facade of playing weak to survive his Sire's wrath worth it in the end—

And here it was, staring him in the face with hope and tragedy and the possibility that the timing was just all mucked up. That he had missed his opportunity due to some curse that should never have been allowed to happen in the first place.

By some bloody mortal with no idea whatsoever of what they were destroying—

But as he scented her skin—even as he smelled the mixture of beasts and woman and Severus' musk combined—he felt his fangs lengthen as he struggled with control over a powerful kind of instinct he had never wrestled with before. This was more than just hunger.

This was so much more than just want.

It was pure need.

It was attraction at a primal, visceral, soulful level—like trying to resist the magnetic pull of two opposition polarities.

But if they were well and truly meant, then this curse would have no power over him.

But if he cured her curse without Turning her—he would die anyway for not doing what Dumbledore requested. He could not simply cure her and wait for her—and Severus—to ease into a future together.

Damn all mortals and their need to hurry!

Damn Albus Dumbledore for his inability to take a hint!

And he couldn't exactly tell the elderly wizard why he suspected he didn't need to Turn her, either. If Albus had even the slightest idea of what these two people would mean to him, he would have banished them to some far off place to specifically thwart him—

Because he did not like to share power.

And Severus was apparently, for some odd reason, the keystone to Albus' master plan. He would not want to risk that both this Hermione Granger or Severus Snape would rise with a bond far stronger than subjugation—

He'd lived with his Sire long enough to know exactly what powermongering was. He knew that Albus was, much like his Sire, a man who wanted all the control in his hands and believed that his plan was the only plan.

It had gotten his Sire killed.

It would, eventually, kill Albus, too.

Sanguini panted as a surge of strange, all-encompassing need filled him stronger than any hunger had felt in his entirety of life and un-life even as the pain of knowing his chances of success were entirely against him.

Who could possibly accept him on first meeting him as he was ordered to Turn her—

If he were in that position, he couldn't see himself forgiving him from a first introduction fangs first—

No—

These were his lifemates.

They deserved to choose their fate—

And if that meant his death to ensure it, then at least he could die a true death knowing they were free. Even if it meant never savouring the rich elixir of their combined blood. Of feeling the ecstasy of simple acceptance. Of knowing he would never need to hunt again—never need to kill, save only out of necessity—because the blood of one's mate was enough.

The ultimate gift of life—for a species born of death and yet defying it.

He placed his hands against each of their cheeks, feeling their skin in a moment of pure indulgence of what could be.

Should be.

But ultimately would not.

"It is not fair," he said with a sigh. "We deserve a chance like the living to love. To have what we love close and loving us in return. To remember what it was to be alive. Instead, I must become my own instrument of tragedy."

His fangs bared as blood trickled from his mouth, his fangs having nicked his flesh in his torment. "Please forgive me, my loves," he whispered. "I beg you."

With bloody tears trickling down his face, he tenderly pressed his mouth to Hermione's in his first and last kiss.

Sanguini woke in a field of golden grain—ancient wheat waving in the wind as the sun—the SUN!—showered down on his face.

Yet he did not burn.

The peaks of a foreign mountain range graced the distance, puffy white clouds and snow caps showing their impressive height even as they appeared to slowly creep upwards toward the azure skies.

A soft snort caused him to whirl.

Sanguini's eyes widened as he faced a centaur—but a centaur unlike any had ever seen before. Larger. Fiercer, yet strangely noble and wise in his features.

"You walk the sacred fields of Demeter, child of the Earth," the centaur said. "I am Chiron, king of the centaurs thought dead but—perhaps the story is exaggerated."

"You will pardon my surprise, Chiron, please," Sanguini said carefully. "I am in sunlight facing the progenitor of the centaur species in a place I do not recognise—which in itself is more than a little shocking."

"I am not Centaurus, Child of the Earth," the centaur said with a chuckle. "I am now simply a teacher, a guide, and finder of lost vampires in the fields of Demeter."

"How fortunate for me, then," Sanguini said. "I am called Mihail—or at least that was my name before my Sire dubbed me Sanguini upon my violent rebirth."

The centaur cocked his head. "The Children of the Earth, much like my mind, have a creation story that is steeped in violence, often rape, and drunken revelry. Like most stories mortals tell, they like to add their faults to the gods to excuse their lusts and abhorrent behaviour. Vampires are written in lore as criminals and monsters—incapable of thought or reason, moral compass, or ethical quandary. Yet, here you stand, in the Fields of Demeter, in the sun, not burning and not attacking me in bloodlust. Obviously, some stories have been—exaggerated. Moulded to fit a convenience. A warning story— to keep the people afraid of the dark and criminals and burying their dead at a crossroads—flinging poppy seeds into the air to flee, hanging garlic in the windows and on the doors."

"You know a lot of my kind," Sanguini said, curious and impressed.

"I have had—time," Chiron said with a smile. "To do some light reading and—observation."

Sanguini chuckled. "I bow to your timeless wisdom—that which even those like I am find legendary."

Chiron smiled. "I have always been a teacher—and like most teachers that are lifelong—many of our students do not realise what we have given them until it becomes important that they do, or else they perish for the lack of it. But, this is not why you are here for now, Child of the Earth, Mihail. That which you seek is there, just over the ridge between the two highest peaks."

Sanguini turned to look and saw the column of smoke from a distant fire and turned again to thank the centaur, but the great king had disappeared as silently as a ghost through a wall.

Slightly unnerved, as he was used to hearing and sensing all movement and life with unerring clarity, he set off toward the smoke.

As he arrived at what seemed to be the outer courtyard of a temple, he saw a familiar-looking woman laughing as she was riding a grown Nundu around like a horse while flanked by a running werewolf—the great beast was jumping through hoops and over barricades like they were nothing, and while she rode her most unlikely steed—she shot a bow at a series of hanging targets. When she finally ran out of arrows, she used a javelin, a pitchfork, and a virtual arsenal of unlikely farming tools.

A beautiful, ageless woman with flame-like hair—not the common orange-red of most humans, but a flickering actual fire composed of the alternating colours of autumn that matched the distant trees, was clapping and laughing.

"My sister," she said with a laugh. "You put me to shame. My Lord and husband Hades would snap you up had he not already claimed me."

"Hermione," who was dressed in ancient Greek robes that seemed woven of clouds and stars, hopped off the Nundu with a broad smile. "Fear not, beloved sister," Hermione said with a laugh. "There will not be a war today over myself."

"Give it time," Persephone said with a warm smile. "The Greeks loved to go to war for such oddly small things like beauty. I'm sure they will come up with a story that will paint you as either a whore or a great face that launched dragon ships."

Hermione threw a small bundle of wheat at her "sister." "I grew up with the Daily Prophet. Trust me, sensationalist propaganda is alive and well far from the Greeks. And most of them still think that Hades abducted and tricked you into eating the food of the Underworld."

Persephone rolled her eyes. "Ah! Gods forbid I have free choice and a mind of my own with a little pity for the Earth's growing cycle for at least half of the year. They would make it sound like I could never see my husband save six months of the year. Like I commuted. Or was enslaved by our mother—so many false stories. Much like poor Medusa. It all depends on who is telling the tale."

Persephone waved in the air randomly. "My husband and I prefer to sleep together except in spring and summer months when he snores. Even Cerberus, the poor dear, prefers to sleep elsewhere."

Hermione laughed. "Now that is a good reason to sleep apart."

"Makes a horrible epic ballad," Persephone said. She shook her head. "I am so happy our mother succeeded in feeding you as a babe. Her one other attempt to reward a human kindness did not go very well. Your parents, however, passed every test."

"Well, they did not wake up to find me resting in a bed of coals after being fed Ambrosia, either," Hermione said.

Persephone shrugged. "Maybe they did, but thought it a mere dream. Either way, they did not scream and pull you out of the fire. They did not interrupt our mother's gift."

A Volcanic Nightmare Dog bounded up to them with a mouth full of (now charred) wheat. The stems and husks turned to ash as Hermione deftly caught the warmed wheat in a bowl and placed it on the table.

"You're so overzealous, Kai," she admonished gently even as she petted the hound on the head.

The happy nightmare hound wagged his tail happily and then tore off into the fields again, gathering wheat as he went even as a werewolf gave chase in a gleeful frolic.

Persephone chuckled. "Well, at least we have someone to blame for forest fires and volcanic shenanigans," she said.

Hermione scoffed. "There is much more to Kai and Fen than scorched earth."

"Well, he makes a good oven, too," Persephone admitted. "And that strange concoction you call—pissa?"

"Pizza!" Hermione corrected her. "You're horrible! Chiron is surely rolling himself into colic because of your utter obliviousness to modern day foodstuffs."

"What is time for any of us?" Persephone pointed out. "I can make an outstanding kortoplakous."

Hermione chuckled and bowed. "I bow to your superior experience."

"Oh, don't even start making me sound old," Persephone complained. "Then there will be new ballads being sung of Persephone the HAG!"

"Unlikely," Hermione said.

Persephone kissed her cheek. "Go on, your other lifemate is here. You should make love to him in the fields of wheat. Mother really hates that. Hades is absolutely insatiable."

Hermione flushed. "Don't you have a forest to revive somewhere? Crops to grow?"

Persephone cackled. "Be sure to take them both to the waterfall," she said. "It's so much fun!"

Hermione threw a kumquat and olive at her in rapid succession. "Go away, foul demon sister!"

Persephone cackled even harder as she disappeared into the wheat field like a ghost.

Hermione scoffed and threw up her hands. "Sisters! They are even worse than mothers!"

Sanguini simply stood flabbergasted with his mouth-hanging open amidst the wheat.

"You can come and sit down," Hermione said with a chuckle. "I hope you found my conversation with my dear, insufferable sister, amusing."

Sanguini closed his mouth and walked forward, unsure of how his feet managed to go forward or even how his legs managed to hold him up.

He sat down in the offered chair as his mouth worked silently on forming coherent words. "How—?" he managed.

"Sleep is—a portal to this place," Hermione explained as she passed him a cup of tea.

Sanguini sipped it thoughtfully, surprised at its refreshing flavour—or that it even tasted like anything to his normally blood-centric palette.

"It's sideritis tea," Hermione said. "The Greeks call it 'mountain tea'."

"It's very good," he said. "I—find myself a little discombobulated."

Hermione smiled. "The divine space is between what is and what was but not entirely of Earth, either. Before I was born, my parents almost died to save a family of farmers whose fields were burning. Their livelihood. Their everything. They prayed in the Old Ways to Demeter to bless their homes and their fields. Not everything can be predicted or prevented, however. And one of their children played with fire."

Hermione tilted her head. "My parents saw the smoke from their car, as they were driving toward London to make a new start for themselves. As dentists. They didn't know them. They didn't care. They threw themselves into the smoke and flames and brought those people out—doing CPR on the child that had breathed in smoke, giving their live-giving air to a stranger. Helping wet down the crops so they wouldn't burn completely. Helping them get to the hospital. My parents left the hospital, never bothering to exchange names or anything, happy that they were in good hands. Asking for nothing in return."

Hermione looked toward the mountains, her hand resting on the Nundu's head. "The family survived, and they returned home to find that my parents had given what little they had to ensure that crews arrived to make their home liveable again. They prayed to Demeter in thanks and appreciation, but asked her to please give her blessing to their saviours who asked for nothing but gave everything to help a stranger—to help a family in need."

"And one day, my struggling parents, who had me and a new dentistry to balance, could barely do both. An old woman arrived one day, asking for nothing but a warm space at their hearth. She would take care of me while they took better care of themselves. They were not inattentive parents. They loved me. But they greatly needed that help, so they accepted it. And that old woman rocked me to sleep each night after feeding me ambrosia and placed me in the coals of the fire just like Demophon. Burning away my fragile mortality and the things that were anchoring me to a much smaller destiny."

Hermione smiled. "When I was older, Demeter left me in my parents' care again—they were now successful enough to have time for both me and dentistry. She left them a family of supposedly extinct magical lizards to help out once she was gone and to, in a way, thank them for bringing back some faith in the goodness of humanity. She knew that I would grow up as a mortal and, under the guidance of my destined partners, finally ascend as Her daughter."

"But—" Hermione chuckled. "The plan was accidentally accelerated by that same humanity. In cursing me to fall into an enchanted sleep, I was brought here—prematurely—where I have lived and learned for countless years along with those bound to me. Learning. Accepting that my old life is, and perhaps always was, doomed to be left behind. My body remains asleep, waiting for both of my mates, my anchors, my counter-balances, my destined ties to the memories of what it was to be human—to accept me as I am. As what I am no more. As what I have become and will be."

"Don't be so dramatic, love," Severus chided as he walked up, carrying a potion bottle and a thick tome written in Ancient Greek. "He just got here. He may have lived for thousands of years like us, but he hasn't lived them with us."

Sanguini blinked in surprise. "You know?"

Severus tapped his chest where Sanguini's birthmark lay, and a thrum of warmth passed through Sanguini like a chord from the celestial choir. "Obviously," he said dryly. "We had expected you to arrive sooner, but time passes so differently here. This is the Divine Realm, where we are both now, before, and after."

"Don't let his coolheadedness fool you," Hermione said. "It took him a hundred years to come to grips with the fact that I loved him. Truly loved him."

Severus scoffed loudly, throwing the tome at her, which she deftly caught and grinned at him.

"She is hoping that you will not take quite so long," Severus said, cocking his eyebrow at him.

"H-how would this even work?" Sanguini asked, his mind running like a jackrabbit through the fields at Mach two.

Hermione gently took his hand, and Sanguini felt tears form in his eyes and fall at the sheer warmth of it—the life.

"Go back to the waking world, dear one," she said warmly. "Turn us, and in that sleep deep within the Earth, we will meet here again—learn all we can of each other, what we are, and what we must become together."

"You—" Sanguini was not used to being caught so wrong-footed. He was not used to being surprised. He was not used to having someone, let alone two someones, making an impossible choice and having it involve him in a positive way.

Both Severus and Hermione took each of his hands, pressing their lips to the back. "We are ready for you, Mihail."

And with that, Sanguini felt himself falling—falling—falling into the fathomless depths of space.

His eyes snapped open as if he'd awoken from a startling nightmare, his heart racing in his chest—beating wildly.

Beating?

On the back of his hand, two glowing magical marks—his birthmark where their lips had touched his skin—shone brightly. Proof that his lifemates had acknowledged him. Had accepted him— Proof that it wasn't a hallucination.

That hunger came roaring back with a vengeance. A driving need to seal the bond between them before anything else untoward could happen. His fangs bared in anticipation as he leaned down toward Hermione's smooth neck—the scent of wheat and fields and mountain air, the scent of the divine recognised on her skin.

He caressed her cheek, savouring the feel of her, relief in every cell of his body that she was mature, sane, and capable of making a momentous life decision that could never be—reversed.

And he?

Was he ready to make a choice that would bind him forever to—the divine? To a role as a counter-balance and anchor to what mortality was? Was he qualified? Did he even care?

His fangs ached, and he closed his eyes. He would cross both Heaven and Hell to be at her side—their side. To have this piece of Elysium.

He moved her head to the side, and lowered his mouth—

As Poppy Pomfrey strode into the room and screamed.

Sanguini's head snapped up, blood still on his lips from where he had earlier bit himself. He snarled, his power rolling off him as he gestured with his hand, his eyes making contact with hers as his mind crushed into hers.

"Come. Here."

Poppy zombie-shuffled toward him, her eyes glassy, her mind rolled.

Sanguini buried his fangs into her throat and drank deeply, opening the pathways of power he had denied himself for hundreds if not thousands of years. He pulled away, his face a mask of blood as he closed his eyes. When he opened them as his tongue licked the blood from his lips but not his face, he pressed his fingers to her neck and pushed his power into the wounds, sealing the skin to a flawless condition.

"Go. Away," he commanded, his claws digging into the skin of her chin. "And do not let anyone or anything else interrupt me tonight."

Poppy automatically turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Sanguini ran his tongue over his teeth, the tip resting on the end of his fang. "I am done with these mortal interferences that are seemingly determined to ruin the single spark of happiness in my life."

Sanguini took a deep, cleansing breath, pulled in his power to heel, and cradled Hermione against him. "Beloveds," he whispered against her skin. "I do not wish to be without you both any longer."

His fangs lengthened, and he kissed her mouth and throat then sank his teeth into her neck.

"What do you mean they're gone?" Albus demanded.

"There's no one here, Headmaster," Poppy said, looking confused. "What on earth are you going on about?"

"Where is Severus?!" Albus asked loudly. "Where is Miss Granger?! Where is the werewolf?!"

Poppy just stared at him. "Do you need a sedative?"

Master Severus Snape and Apprentice Hermione Granger Vanish Overnight!

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore Forced to Allow Aurors and Unspeakables on School Grounds To Investigate!

Former Hogwarts Student Ginevra Weasley Tried Before Wizengamot for Using 'Sleeping Beauty' Curse on Apprentice Hermione Granger

"SHE BLOODY RUINED MY LIFE!" Sobs Tearful Weasley Witch

Entire Krum Family in Enchanted Sleep

Bulgarian Authorities Demand Blood Debt Against Weasley Family

Members of Notorious Weasley Family Suddenly Disappear

Rumours Suggest Possible Escape To Bermuda Triangle Embattled Ginevra Weasley Sobbed Hysterically In Holding Cell After Hearing News As She Awaits Wizengamot Trial

Muggle News:

Farmer Joe Haddiker Discovers New Breed of Sheep On His Farm

"Never Seen An Orange Sheep Before, But People Sure Love the Wool!"

"It's really odd, yeah?" Mr Haddiker said, scratching his beard. "About twenty years ago, we nearly lost everything to a house fire. We would've lost it all if it hadn't been for a nice young couple who saved us from our burning farmhouse and helped put our fields. Now, we get a small flock of orange sheep that just appeared overnight in our empty paddock with green ribbons tied around their necks and this strange brand of a cornucopia with wheat spilling out of it emblazoned on their bums. A bunch of scientists tried to take them away for study, but the sheep were back in the paddock by morning, just like magic."

"I don't have any idea where they came from," confided wife Shirley Haddiker, "but they make the softest, most startlingly orange wool I've ever seen."

Arthur Weasley Spotted At St Mungos After Multiple Family Members Vanish

Multiple Barristers Refuse To Defend Ginevra Weasley, Delaying Trial Yet Again

Barrister Willing To Defend Ginevra Weasley Finally Found,

Discovers Bright Orange Sheep In Her Holding Cell

"What in Merlin's Unshaven Armpits Is Going On Around Here?"

Auror Attempts to Locate Missing Master Snape and Apprentice End In Frustration!

"I swear, I didn't do anything to him, Alastor," Sirius insisted as he watched Harry attempting to repair a vase he had knocked over and broken in the hallway, the remnants somehow ending up embedded in the portrait of his notorious mother, Walburga Black. His lips turned up into a small smile as Walburga cursed the boy and Kreacher beat himself over the head with a cast iron frying pan.

Sirius sighed heavily. "I have a great many, extensive regrets in my life, but none so much as letting down the people who truly cared for me, right when they needed me the most. It was my bias, my bigotry that contributed to a multitude of failures. My targeting of Snape was—a way for me to channel my anger with my family against another Slytherin and get away with it."

Sirius closed his eyes. "Kreacher had kept the locket I gave to Madam Bones—the only evidence that my brother wasn't the person I thought he was. Regulus was trying so hard to make our world a better place—and I cursed him. Calling him nothing more than a heartless, unconscionable beast. He was trying, even after all the awful things I said, to save everyone. Even me. And I realised all this during my—" he shook his head in disgust and chuckled darkly. "Therapy—that I had chosen to live a life filled with hatred and irresponsibility. I escaped Azkaban to get revenge—I had learned nothing. It wasn't until Harry yelled at me to be nicer to Kreacher—because his friend Hermione had always told him to treat them—house elves—more kindly. It was only then that I realised what the mind healer had been trying to drill into me all along. I had to stop blaming others for my own shortcomings and—cowardice."

Sirius let out a soft sigh. "So no, Alastor. I did nothing to hurt Snape—ugh—Severus. I do not wish him to suffer. And from what I've heard, he was taking amazing care of his apprentice. Harry said he'd never seen either of them so happy. I will have to live with my sins against him for the rest of my life."

Alastor's face scrunched slightly as he took in a deep breath and sighed. "You know what, Black? I believe you."

Sirius closed his eyes, a tear trailing down one cheek. He let out a quiet sob. "You know—finally someone does when I actually mean it. Kingsley did a really good job with Harry. I'm so glad he had someone with a better grounding in life than me until I got my act together. I'm just—sorry he's gone. Severus was a better person than I ever was, he was just never given the opportunity to prove it until his apprentice came along."

Alastor frowned. "Do you think Dumbledore had anything to do with it?"

Sirius blinked at that. "Before all of this, I would've said no. Absolutely not. But—the old man was always very good to us. Far more than he should have. He forced Severus, under threat of Obliviation, into making a Vow to never speak of being attacked by Moony. He did that for us—even after what I had done—to protect Remus from being outed as a werewolf. If I look back on that, I feel like it was part of some long game plan for Albus. In doing so, he gained something he could hold over us. He never mentioned it again, but he never had to. We would have done pretty much anything to protect Remus—and in a lot of ways I saw it as him protecting me from my own stupidity. I set Snape up to be maimed, turned, or killed by a werewolf. Instead of telling me off or punishing me, he basically ignored what amounted to attempted murder and swept it all under the rug, knowing that he'd really saved my bacon. We owed him big for that and he bloody well knew it. Did Albus have something to do with Severus' disappearance? To be perfectly honest, I'd like to say no, but the truth is I wouldn't put anything past him if he felt it was for the greater good."

Harry, looking sombre, walked in from the other room. "Did Hermione leave because of me?"

Sirius blinked and jerked his head. "What?"

"I all but called her a murderer—back at the Quidditch World Cup. She—well, her beasts—attacked a Death Eater in the tent and she just sat there and watched it happen. She said we were ordered to stay put, so that was what she did—and the beasts protected us."

"Why did you call her a murderer?"

"Because she didn't just injure the bloke, she—" Harry grimaced at the memory. "They pretty much tore him apart."

"So, you'd rather be dead, boy?" Alastor asked, frowning.

"What? NO! I just—why couldn't she have disabled him instead?"

"He is."

"No, I mean— why did she have to hurt him? She could've just arrested him! She threw a bloody snake at him! Her pet werewolf tore his ruddy wand hand off!"

Sirius closed his eyes. "Harry, believe me, when Dark wizards or truly desperate people resort to using Dark spells, they aren't thinking about you, your family, innocent bystanders, or even anything remotely compassionate. They want you to die. They want you to suffer. They don't stop to think about the consequences. They don't care who they have to hurt to do it. And I'm sure—positive—absolutely certain that if she hadn't done that, you'd have been dead soon after. She did exactly as her master told her to, and he told her that for a reason. And—when you have someone you trust to take care of you, that is why you do what they say before trying to figure out why."

Sirius grimaced. "It is also why I did a lot of things for Albus Dumbledore without question. Without even thinking about asking why. I trusted him to watch my back. And it wasn't until I was sitting in Azkaban for over a decade that I realised he wasn't getting me out of everything. That what I had done was on me, and sometimes you do things that no one can get you out of. But maybe—it was my own actions long before that—"

Sirius sighed. "What I did to Severus was more than just cruel. I wanted him to pay. I believed he deserved to either die or suffer, preferably both, and I deliberately set him up to be attacked by a werewolf on a full moon night. I will live with that shame for the rest of my life. When I did it, I didn't really care who got hurt—and ultimately, I realise now, I didn't care that it would also hurt my friend Remus, who I cared for deeply or myself in that it would drastically change the nature of my relationship with Dumbledore from that point on. He was no longer my headmaster who always looked out for me. He now had things over me because I had done horrible things. I had dug my grave with my own actions, and he was there to watch me lie in it."

"The apprentice bond is sacred," Sirius said. "It is an Oath that the master will take care of the apprentice from the moment they are together until the apprentice becomes their own master. The apprentice has to trust their master to have their best interests at heart—and she did. And from all the stories I have heard of Severus and Apprentice Granger— he never once wavered in defending her from all sides, whether it be against Dark wizards, class bullies, backstabbing friends, or people who simply thought her the worst kind of scum because she had the nerve to think even Dementors deserved to be treated with respect. It was you who told me to treat Kreacher better, Harry And it was Hermione who told you. And because of her, a great evil was banished from my home, and I realised my brother wasn't really the heartless pureblood fanatic that I thought he was."

Sirius shook his head. "From the stories I heard, Hermione Granger was a withdrawn, misunderstood soul who stood up for what she believed in and was hated, ridiculed, and ostracised for it. And when the one person you trust so much that your very magical soul is bound to them, strong enough to give you both a fine set of dragon wings—that's a seriously powerful, mutual respect. Something I—Alastor, have you ever seen such a sign of mutual respect?"

Alastor shook his head. "Just those two," he said. "It's not to say there are not strong apprentice bonds in the Ministry, but you can respect someone's role but truly trust them on that level. Transformative magic is—and Granger had the ability to share her immunities with those she touched. She learned how to do that—from all her beast-friends."

He tapped his previously missing eye, where he used to wear the unnerving magical 'mad eye.' "And that among so many other truly remarkable, even downright unbelievable things. And me—I shudder to think what would have happened had Granger been apprenticed by Dumbledore instead of Snape."

"But Dumbledore only wants the best for us," Harry immediately protested.

"Is that really what you think, Harry?" Sirius said grimly. "Or what he wants you to think?"

Harry's eyebrows knit together in confusion as he struggled with his own conflicting emotional roller coaster.

Sirius sighed. "I think it's about time I told you something, Harry. Dumbledore tried to pressure me into stepping aside as your guardian and giving him full custody of you. He fully intended to bring you back to the Dursleys. It apparently didn't matter that they were abusing you. He was absolutely adamant that you had to live with them rather than coming home with me."

"What?" Harry said hoarsely, his green eyes wide in shock. "NO! He KNEW how much I wanted to be with you! He KNEW how horrible the Durleys were! Dumbledore looked out for me, he wanted me to be happy!"

Sirius shook his head. "No, Harry. He cast protective magic over you that would only protect you from You-Know-Who's attacks until your seventeenth year. He enhanced the protective spell your mother cast that was activated by her death to save you. But to keep it protecting you, it required you to live with at least one blood family member in order to 'recharge' its effectiveness. The closer you were—the stronger the protection would be."

Sirius stared out the window. "And while most purebloods are related in some way—I am distantly related to you, despite my status as your godfather."

Sirius closed his eyes. "But then, so are the Malfoys, the Greengrasses, or any of the Sacred Twenty Eight. You could have lived with any of them, which is why the Wizengamot placed you with Kingsley Shacklebolt. They knew it would be no different. And Kingsley would most definitely fight to defend you from any and all threats, unlike your aunt and uncle. I considered allowing him to continue watching over you because he was very good at it."

"But I wanted to be with YOU. Sirius! You knew my father! My mother!"

Sirius closed his eyes. "I was not the best choice, Harry. All I can do is attempt to make up for my shortcomings and be there for you when you're not in school and hope that what I've learned in my penance will be enough to cast out the shadows in your life. And I have arranged for Kingsley to come live with us while you're staying here in the hopes that he can help provide the grounding to reality that we both desperately need."

Memo

From: Amelia Bones, HBOY

To: All Agents, Unspeakables

We have received word from the Vampire Council that the bodies of Severus Snape and Hermione Granger have "gone into the earth" which is their term for a long Turn. The Council says that Sanguini has ascended to Master status, and that his magic and signature have changed. They are presuming it is a lifemate siring, and apparently, the process of transferring memories and skills to mates over fledglings is an exceedingly complicated process and can take years depending on the age of the Sire.

Sanguini, now Lord Sanguini, is known to be an ancient vampire and—until fairly recently—was believed to be the least likely to reach master status.

We have no estimated time as to how long it will take.

All inquiries into the search for Master Snape and Apprentice Granger will be fielded by me. No one outside of the DoM is to know of this until they finally resurface. We can only hope that the inherent goodness in Apprentice Granger tempers the rage of her rising—and that she can also restrain Master Snape's. Gods help us all if this proves not to be the case.

We must be prepared for if, or rather when they rise, as we may need to move the Weasley family to Azkaban just to keep them all alive—as it is the only place where a magic dampening field exists to make tracking impossible. As all the Dementors and most of the DoM's beast paddocks have seemingly "gone underground" as well—it's pretty safe to say that whatever measures we take still might not be enough.

Personal Letter

Alastor,

Old friend, I know you were only guessing that Hermione Granger had some connection to the divine spark, but I worry about what that will mean for the Weasleys should she rise as a divine being with a connection to the undead nation. She was already connected to a long and powerful list of Dark creatures before this, and I can only imagine what will happen after.

I strongly suspect that Dumbledore had something to do with this Turning, but so far we have no evidence, as Severus, Hermione, and Fenrir as well as her most beloved beasts have all vanished.

And Sanguini—

He's been off our radar for as long as we've had records. His Sire, on the other hand, was a brutal, manipulative, abusive son of a bitch who had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the right time while Dumbledore was fighting Grindelwald.

This makes me suspect that he called Sanguini in to fulfil a life debt—the kind of task that involved Turning Granger in order to stop her rapid ageing.

And thus preventing all of those poor kids who tried to kiss her to cure her of the Sleeping Beauty curse from ageing along with her. We can only be thankful that those who did try are all awake and doing well.

What that could mean for the future, however, greatly troubles me.

If Sanguini was her lifemate and thus her true love, then his kiss would have broken the curse without her needing to be Turned. Why then would Albus order him to do so? I think that when Mungos released him from care, they may have missed something that was hidden much deeper inside of him—but what that might be, I cannot say for sure.

I worry, old friend. Not just for the Weasleys but for all of those who may have slighted her in the past. From what I have learned about Turnings—they are often violent due to surges of emotions caused by reliving the most poignant events of their lives. I do not know Sanguini well enough to know if he can counter that—or if he would even want to.

As for Severus, we all know his sole weakness is to hurt someone he cares for.

Hermione was the one person he most definitely cared about, Lily Evans Potter be damned. And Hermione Granger—she was perhaps the only one who unconditionally trusted and cared for him.

It's Been Five Years Now! Whatever Happened to Master Severus Snape and Apprentice Hermione Granger?

Albus rubbed his temples vigorously as he tried to figure out where everything had gone so horribly wrong.

The Dementors were gone—but so was everything else.

Severus was gone, and somehow Sanguini had taken him along with Granger after the Turning and gotten him out right from under Poppy's nose.

Sanguini wasn't powerful enough to mind roll anyway, so he wasn't even sure how the bloody weakling had even managed it.

Albus had been sure that with Hermione Turned, the curse would be broken due to her not being able to age and thus die, and Sanguini could order Granger to renounce the bond with Severus. Or the Turning would transfer that bond to him, and either way Granger would be out of the picture and Severus would be able to do his job like he promised!

But no!

Things didn't quite go as planned.

Things didn't work out at all!

Now Minerva and Poppy were thinking he was losing his everloving mind, but none of them understood!

None of them!

"You know, I really should thank you."

Albus startled and whirled to see a mature woman in a flowing green dress with some sort of grain motif on it. She spun the globe with one finger. "Who are you?"

"Me? Oh, no one you would know, Albus," she answered. "I am Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest. You're not actually one to plant seeds in the ground and let them grow. You're more of a spinner—an entangler. Like the blackberry briars and the sticky vines."

Her face wrinkled slightly as her nose scrunched up in clear distaste. "But—you did speed the process of bringing my lovely daughter back to me. She and Persephone have become very close—as tightly knit as any Athenian tapestry. It brings me great joy to see her so happy—both of them. So compassionate to the beasts that no one, not even Artemis, wishes to touch. You see—we cannot control what our children become. We can only nurture and hope that our influence and those around our children temper them into something that can stand alone without our aid."

She smiled, but it was not a kind one. "Your meddling brought her to me traumatised, frightened—both her and her intended anchor. One of two destined to keep the balance between sanity and rage, passion and dispassion. Because of you, she never met one meant to instil passion and remind her of what makes mortal life so precious the way she was supposed to. In time. With patience. When she was ready. Instead, things had to fit into your little plans. You little needs. Your little desires to be the one to fix everything you broke. That's the thing, wasn't it? You needed to fix what you started—"

Demeter tsked, shaking her head. "You put Grindelwald into power. So then you had to take him out. You brought a young psychopath into greater power, killing off his fellow students and numerous other innocents. You created a Dark Lord—and then you had to stop him. You would think that by now, you'd have realised that your attempts to fix your mistakes have only led to even more, bigger mistakes."

"You couldn't fix your sister. You couldn't fix your father. Your mother. Your love for a man who cared for no one but himself—your wish to redeem yourself in Tom Riddle but created yet another Dark Lord. Were you going to try for three?"

Demeter spun the globe with two fingers. "It would have been glorious to see a Dark goddess rise up from the ashes of your manipulative meddling—wreaking havoc upon the Earth and turning you to ash. Such power. Such wrath. Such retribution. But no. Instead she listened to her anchor, her intended, whose voice had never led her wrong since she first gave him the trust of an apprentice for her master. She forgave them. She even forgave—you. For without you, she would not have been reborn quite so epically—a song for so many great ballads. And she took both time and patience. She learned, absorbed, and forgave."

"But I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," the goddess said, "am not a forgiving goddess. I am, like the harvest, both plentiful and barren. I can both love and brood in the cold and emotionless deep. I can be compassionate or hateful. And that is why I am here today. To repay you, thrice over, exactly what you deserve.

Amelia,

I cannot write to you for very long right now. I'm in the middle of trying to get a ruddy goat out of Dumbledore's office, and I can't seem to send a Patronus out because of some idiot jinx in the area. I can't find Dumbledore to get rid of it.

Alastor

Patronus to Alastor Moody from Amelia Bones:

WHAT?!

Memo:

From: Amelia Bones, HBOY

To: All agents, Unspeakables

I don't know how it happened, if he did it to himself or if someone else cursed him, but somehow—Albus Dumbledore is now a female goat. What are those even called? Does? Nannies? Both?

Hades if I know.

All tests confirm that whatever magic turned the old coot into a bloody goat is not reversible. Also, the body is apparently cursed to require milking once an hour and being shorn at least once a day, lest the coat get so long she trips over it as well as ending up super matted and disgusting.

The milk and the quality of the wool, however, is absolutely outstanding. I'm told the milk contains the perfect balance of nutrients for both infants and children as well as adults, and we cannot seem to figure out why. The wool manages to be wonderfully cool in summer and superiorly warm in the cold. Whatever magic allows for both to far surpass what is expected from typical wool and milk is quite beyond our ken.

After extensive testing, we have cleared the goat to be a part of the Granger's side business in fine goat products as they supply both the magical and Muggle world with nutritious food and clothing for those in need. Their reputation for philanthropy is well known in the Muggle world already, and it's clear they know exactly what's most needed in the Muggle and magical worlds alike. We will supply them with one agent per shift, as usual, to make sure no one attempts to take magical advantage of the Grangers in either place—even though most situations that crop up are easily handled by those ornery, overzealous, and highly-protective lizards of theirs!

As for the Grangers asking about their daughter, all we can tell them is that our ongoing investigation has so far turned up nothing of note. I know this is not the answer anyone wants to hear or deliver, but if any of you are still praying to the old gods and pantheons, it certainly wouldn't hurt.

Pray for them, but also pray for us.

Gods help us all if what eventually rises is a vengeful, wrathful master vampire. Worse still if there are three.

Now Hiring:

Goat milkers and shearers to take alternative shifts milking and shearing Deidre the Endless Nanny Goat.

Owl Inquiries to: Marion Selvage-Tabbyshed

Ministry Memo:

Granger Family Dentistry has opened a side-shop next door to their dental practice offering an extensive line of goat milk skincare products, cashmere woollen goods, and fresh goat milk and cheeses for purchase as well as for all of our daycare children.

Be sure to stop by to sample and explore their wonderful selection!

Ten Years Later…

The air was both wet and cold as the moon rose high in the sky, yet it shed no light.

An all-consuming blackness was cast upon Great Britain, and many remained inside, huddled around their hearths with all of their lights on because the outdoors suddenly seemed strangely menacing in a way that no one could seem to put in words.

Mist seeped up from the ground, swirling about in a thickness that seemed both tangible and not at the same time.

Day had become like night—and all of Britain quivered, expecting some great coming of the Apocalypse, for no weather forecaster had warned of an eclipse. No farmer's almanack had spoken of a day where the moon moved to block the sun so abruptly and totally that the entire Earth suffered in its great and terrible shadow.

Such a thing—should not have been possible.

Such a thing—could not possibly have happened.

And yet—it had.

Day-loving creatures hastily fled into their nighttime lairs, but even the typically nocturnal creatures seemed to hunker down in their dens and hiding places, unwilling to leave the safety of their shelters to brave the Stygian darkness that seemed to be of the River Styx itself. Both predator and prey seemed too fearful than to move, treating both the land and air like they were filled with molten lava.

Those who knew magic bravely attempted to light their way only to find that their magic did not, could not do so. Even the brightest of spells, the Patronus, simply never formed. Lanterns, torches, even outdoor bonfires, while successfully lit, did not manage to pierce the gloom any further than the tip of one's nose.

Twisting tendrils of mist formed into multiple tentacle-like strands, licking across the ground and up the trees, forming shadows that did not move like the tendrils—almost as if each were somehow an entirely different entity.

The darkest of shapes rose up from the moonless unlit earth, slowly coagulating into a pair of gnarled hands followed by hooded head and shroudlike robes, even as large paws heralded the arrival of several great beasts composed of fire and shadow.

Volcanic bodies oozed lava in the darkness, their glow piercing the gloom if only to hint as undoubtable danger, much like the volcano itself in the dead of night.

Several prowling feline shapes emerged as well, their spotted leopard-like coats moving in the dark like curtains on the edge of peripheral vision.

The huge form of a wolf so large it could have been ridden shook himself free of the ground, eyes glowing as he tilted his head back and let out a baying howl that started a chain of mingled roars and bays as even more creatures seemed to be birthed from the Earth's concealing darkness.

One by one, beasts of all kinds—four footed, winged, shrouded, clawed, fanged, scaled, and everything in between rose and shook themselves off as if waking from a long, much needed nap.

And the darkness seemed to part as sunlight appeared back in the sky, sending golden rays breaking through the supernatural darkness like spotlights.

One foot, bare and pale as porcelain, crystalline claws tapering from delicate toes, stepped into the light followed by the curve of leg, hip, breast—

A lush mane of perfect chocolate curls framed a bleached-bone coloured face as an array of deep midnight markings shifted across every inch of her body, shifting like a living story. Golden amber eyes glowed like shafts of sunlight through the clouds on fields of pure black.

Grandfather held out a cloak seemingly made of the deepest fathoms where no sun had ever touched, and it slithered across her skin like alien oil and formed into an ancient chiton seemingly woven of night and stars, covering her nakedness with the infinite depths of space itself.

Her lips parted in a soft hiss, pristine white fangs emerging as the sun bathed her face, lighting up what the night had concealed.

Simultaneously, two other shapes stepped out of the darkness into the dance of sunlight, one descending upon her mouth, his pale fingers splayed across her cheek as his crimson-gold eyes stared into hers. The other descended upon her neck, causing her to groan into the other's mouth as he kissed her. Her delicately clawed fingers caressed his hair and neck as she drew him closer.

He withdrew slowly, a smear of blood on his lips as the tips of his fangs were exposed in undeniable ecstasy.

The three of them closed their eyes as one as they basked in the glorious sunlight, and it began to spread outward, returning the world to what it should have been—day, night, and whatever lay in between the twilight places.

Yet, these creatures of the undeniable Darkness, stood in the light of day utterly unfazed.

Sanguini stared at the play of sunlight on his skin—the glisten of his almost transparent claws in the radiant glow. The light passed through them like the prism of crystal, casting rainbows in the layers within.

"The sun," he whispered. "Here in the waking world."

"It is always dark somewhere," Severus said, his clawed fingertip tracing the dance of tattoos running down his mate's shapely body. "We just simply do not need to stand in it anymore."

"Nor do any of us," Hermione said as she drew down Grandfather's head and placed a gentle kiss upon his cheek. For a moment, all their bodies echoed with the dance of living tattoos under fur, scale, and skin.

The three of them fanned their wings together, with only then Sanguini seeming to realise he had gained a rather impressive wingspan. "These are new," he said, his lips pressing together introspectively. "Whom do I blame?"

Bertje fanned her wings from Hermione's shoulder, letting out a large dragonet yawn as she belched a gout of flame in commentary of the situation, and Hermione rubbed under her chin with one finger.

Tovenares nosed the small dragonet with her snout, blowing a puff of smoke as the smaller dragonet attacked her snout playfully like a cat with a stuffed toy. The now full-grown Hebridean Black dragon simply basted her with her tongue and nudged her with the tip of her snout, toppling her from one side to the other.

Blodwyn raised her front legs and tested the air. "We're probably going to need a larger home," she announced. "Everyone got a lot bigger."

Kai, now fully grown, dropped the carcass of a dead deer that was cradled in his mouth, looking terribly innocent.

"See?" Blodwyn commented. "Bigger stomachs too."

Zorion tried to shove her head under Hermione's hand for attention, but her still much larger mum ploughed her to the side to take her place at Hermione's side.

Hermione chuckled, rubbing the Nundu's velvety ears with fondness.

"Live with us and share our forest, Hermione, Dark Goddess of Beasts, Daughter of Demeter" a familiar voice said as the centaurs walked out of the forest rim. "It has been a long time since the centaur walked side by side with their gods. Allow us to become your first sworn devotees. You who have walked alongside Chiron as well as the other gods."

"Magorian," Hermione said, bowing her head.

The centaur, flanked by his lieutenants, dropped on his forelegs into a bow, tucking his head down. The others dropped even lower.

"I would gladly share your forest with you, Centaur of the Dark Forest, for I have known your wisdom and teachings and cryptic prophecies long before now. Do not bow yourselves before me, proud centaur, I need not your obeisance to remember your kindnesses while I was but a child, innocent in the ways of so many things."

Her head tilted as her eyes closed. "And could you, in your heart, even accept one such as I—when you chose the designation of beasts to avoid being grouped with vampires? For I cannot separate myself from the love of my Lord Husbands—whose lives and loves are forever entwined upon my rebirth as much as the Ambrosia that fed me, the arms of Demeter that rocked me in the coals of the fire, the parents that raised me as a child of dentists, and teachings of so many upon my path from Hogwarts, the Department of Mysteries, and the Domain of the Gods."

Magorian stood up. "Until now, we have never had any reason to think differently. Let us find our path through the stars at your side, my goddess. No one has ever believed the centaur species worthy of such things. They would rather have owls or dolphins—a symbol that does not have a society or a collection of minds that can reason. But you have never treated us like lesser beings. You have never treated beasts as mindless. You have always given those around you the respect they earned—and you have even given forgiveness to those that, perhaps, had little in the way of deserving. Take us unto your auspice that we always have Home within each other."

"And us," said a familiar voice. "My dear sister."

A giant roc with the wings of a dragon landed in the clearing with an assortment of his family. "Ve have flown across the deep of Dark and light to find you again. We avoke to find the vorld much changed, but all vished to meet the sister of mine that gave us such vonderful vings."

"My brother," Hermione cried joyfully, her formality lost as she embraced Viktor, even as his shape returned to that of a human, save for his impressive pair of dragonwings. He, and his entire family—her family—all sported a vast array of multi-coloured wings. Ve are the first rocs ever to have the vings of a dragon."

Bertje fanned her wings with pride at their assimilation.

"Ve meet at last, daughter," Lady Krum said with a smile. "I hope a little more family is velcome in this mix."

"I apologise for my unfortunately late—arrival to your kind invitation to meet," Hermione said. "You will always be welcome. Even if my rather mixed genetics seem to have already made its choice."

Lady Krum chuckled warmly. "None of us vill complain about having dragon vings, my goddess."

"Hermione, please. While I may have had thousands of years to prepare in the Fields of Demeter, here, in front of friends and allies, it is all a bit much."

She straightened, her eyes glowing as communication flashed between her lifemates and all the current familiars. "We shall accept you all into our auspice," she said.

"Wherever shall we house an entire family of rocs?" Severus asked dryly.

"How about there?" Sanguini suggested, gesturing to the now–gigantic Whomping Willow that towered above the canopy like a great mountain, reaching high above all the other trees from its new position in the very centre of the Dark Forest, its massive branches extending far and wide, seeming to reach out to the edge of the forest on each side.

Severus' lips twitched as Blodwyn chimed in, "That will do quite nicely!"

Hermione bowed her head to the woman that walked into her "treehouse," having seemingly entered her home through the sky itself.

"Thank you for blessing our home with plentiful game and wilderness, dear Aunt."

"Hermione," Artemis said as she smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "This is a suitably appropriate place for all manner of beasts. I am glad you look over the forgotten that never felt at home with me. It was my pleasure to ensure your home and first temple was suitably built."

"As they say on Muggle television, 'it's much larger on the inside than it appears on the outside'," Hermione said with a grin.

"Of course," Artemis scoffed. "You are a goddess, Hermione, and not a sycophant. This must be where both you and your protectorate begin to expand your Domain. Though, please don't be like your mother and cover it in an endless field of wheat. I do so abhor wheat."

Hermione snort-laughed. "Dear Aunt, I promise I will try not to plant excessive amounts of wheat."

Artemis laughed. "You will do quite well, I am certain. I noticed you have a huge black dragon guarding the centaur foals below. What a sight that was to see knowing that mortals are probably having their minds bent and twisted at the very thought of it."

"Tov really loves the foals," Hermione said with a smile. "They happily oil her from head to tail like proper dragon slaves."

Artemis laughed again. "Perhaps she belongs to Aphrodite," she mused.

"At least partially," Hermione agreed. "I'm certain that they were fast friends in the Fields of my mother."

"And where are you mates?" Artemis asked. "While I prefer a life without males and their ever-wandering cocks, I do think yours have far better manners than most men, such as those I had to punish by turning them into animals and hunting them."

"There are concealment spells for that," Hermione said.

"Mortals should know better than to oogle when someone is bathing in the forest," Artemis replied with a disdainful huff.

Hermione chuckled. "Feel free to use our baths in the hot springs," she invited. "They do have a concealment charm because I grew up around too many randy teenagers who loved to spy on each other.

"It's more fun to turn them into swine and hunt them like animals," Artemis said, pouting.

Hermione waved her hand. "While I would not prevent you from doing so, I'm sure there are those in this area that would be aghast to know that Artemis is here turning their children into boar and hunting them."

"Then they should teach their offspring better manners," Artemis said dismissively.

"Mihail is at the Vampire Council filing out a mountain of paperwork for his rise to power. Territory boundaries on paper so if he has to rip out the throats of the inevitable idiot who comes to test his power—well, at least we can say we warned them." Hermione sighed. "Severus is doing pretty much the same at the DoM and Ministry—something about reappearing after ten years, looking markedly younger than when he left, having the kind of power that shouldn't even be possible—I do hope he doesn't murder anyone. He utterly detests idiots."

"That is probably why I don't mind your husbands," Artemis said. "Neither of them suffer fools gladly. Unlike you. You are much too forgiving."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I give everyone a chance to prove they're an idiot before showing them the floor," she said.

"Floor or door?" Artemis asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "Fen ever so loves to lay on top of random idiots. Mihail has other ways of dealing with idiots."

"My love, I asked you to show him the door," Hermione said with double arched eyebrows.

Sanguini licked his bloody lips clean, slowly and sensuously cleaning one finger with the tip of his tongue. "My mistake."

Severus peered at him from over the top of his newspaper. "I should have tried that long ago. It would have solved so many problems."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "At least our chosen Auspice is not 'bottomless understanding' and 'careful consideration'."

Sanguini and Severus looked at her with twin expressions of abject horror. "Thank the gods for that."

Hermione looked skyward and then to the Underworld in a silent appeal for greater patience. "It takes a pantheon."

Hermione gestured to the table. "Tea, Aunt?"

"Of course," Artemis replied. "I do so love your Severus' glorious tea blends."

"You love my Lord husband for his tea," Hermione accused gently, a grin spreading across her face.

"Well, it's not for his cock," Artemis pointed out.

"Your loss," Hermione said with a rather wicked smile.

Time passes…

(for all the good that will do Albus…)

"It's so beautiful here," Hermione's mother said with a happy sigh as she rocked baby Sofia, her new granddaughter sleeping soundly in her arms. "I do so wish we could have this forever."

"That can certainly be arranged," Sanguini offered as he stirred the pasta sauce.

"Mihail," Hermione called. "Can we go at least one night without you trying to Turn my parents?"

"But they are just so—adorable," Sanguini complained. "And it's not like they'd have to change their lifestyle in the traditional nightlife doom and gloom way anymore."

"I rather like the idea of being an immortal dentist," Mr Granger said with a smile. "I've thought about it quite a lot lately. Just think of all the clients we'd have in keeping all those fangs utterly pristine."

Sanguini looked at Hermione with one stirring spoon pointed at her father as if to say, "Well? See?!"

Hermione froze in place, her golden eyes glowing brightly. "You—you're really okay with that?"

"Your father and I have discussed it," her mother explained. "We've decided that it'llc be impossible to keep up with our grandchildren if we can't live long enough to see them grow up."

Sanguini tasted the sauce, closing his eyes as he savoured the mix of flavours. "I love being able to eat normal food again, and I also love your pragmatic, so very adorable parents. Shall we do it tonight, then?"

Severus glided into the kitchen, reached one hand over and thwapped his mate upside the head. "After dinner, Mihail. Kindly don't burn the sauce."

Sanguini pouted but continued to stir the pot. "I'm thousands of years old. I can manage to not burn our dinner and accommodate our most respectful guests at the same time."

Severus' eyes glowed softly as he tilted his head. "Save the best for last," he growled softly, the tip of his tongue flicking across his lips.

Sanguini's eyes glowed in response. "You win this round, lover. But when it comes to just desserts, I will be on top."

Hermione took that moment to snog her mate senseless, and the spoon went flying.

Mrs Granger had already handed her grandbaby to Mr Granger and caught the spoon and fluidly stirred the sauce.

Severus' lip twitched as he fought hard to be a shining example of restraint as his body really, really wanted him to go for spawn number two right in front of the in-laws.

Lavender moved the boxes containing their beauty products after stocking the last of the shelves. She wished she could afford to hire some help, but between Pavarti's fashions and her beauty products, they made barely enough to keep the tiny shop open and pay rent on the flat above it.

The rent in Diagon Alley was quite exorbitant for those who didn't own a firmly established business since at least the 1800s, and it certainly hadn't helped that they'd been hampered from the very beginning by the Aurors sniffing around their finances, trying to figure out exactly how they had managed to procure the startup funds to make a go of it in the first place.

It hadn't been any of their damn business!

But it was enough to make potential customers think that maybe their business might be more appropriate for a place in Knockturn Alley rather than respectable Diagon Alley.

Of course, that same less-than-stellar reputation had made it pretty hard to find a decent wizard who wanted to hook up for anything more than just a good one night stand.

She looked into the nearby mirror and saw another wrinkle.

A wrinkle!

Oh no! She was not going to become some bloody hag with no wizard, sharing her tiny flat with a dozen yowling kneazles!

NO!

It was bad enough that they were making enough money to pay off their bills by allowing a vampire to feed off of them—

They did pay well, but a witch had needs!

Needs that amounted to so much more than what their shop could possibly earn them. Needs that went far beyond some timid loser of a vampire giving them a small pouch of gold to offer up their blood.

Well, they had plenty of big dreams and aspirations! They wanted to travel the world! To have hot, rich wizards at their beck and call! To have everyone swooning over their spectacular faces and bodies and just begging them to share their secrets for achieving an ageless beauty.

And, damn it, they would have had it all, if it hadn't been for that stupid bloody FREAK, Hermione Granger!

Well, they were going to outlive that frizzy little know-it-all bitch. She could have her greasy big-nosed git and his manky arse potions that made her hair go limp and turn her skin pale as death.

As for her and Parvati, they were going to have perfectly preserved porcelain skin and Witch Weekly centrefold bodies that would put any professional model to shame. They wouldn't be at all like that weak, far-too-polite, soft-spoken vampire, oh no! They would be beautiful, rich, and famous, living in a fabulous estate with scads of servants to tend to their every whim! People would fawn all over them and pay great piles of galleons just to bask in their glorious presence!

The bell tinkled on the door, and she looked up to see a vaguely familiar-looking woman walking into the store. She had a gorgeous mane of lush chocolate curls that seemed to wrap around her forehead and then cascade down her back, tamed by a delicate metallic circlet that shone like stars in the midnight sky. She was wearing an outfit that seemed like she could have stolen it off a Greek sculpture from some ancient temple to the gods. Even her feet—bare feet—set in simple leather sandals just struck her as being somehow off.

Out of place.

Out of time.

Like a character in one of Pavarti's historical romance novels.

It was like looking at one of her grandmother's old photo books.

One finger reached out to touch the label of one of her hair tonics, and she noticed that her nails had been filed into points like some kind of claw. They didn't look at all like the elegantly sculpted nails she and Pavarti had. They weren't painted. They just looked like a coat of clear nail polish on strangely filed pseudo claws.

Her face looked strangely familiar but also simultaneously both young and old.

And for a moment, the sun played on the woman's features. They seemed more feral—sharper. She thought the tips of her ears looked a little bit pointy. The velvety black cloak she was wearing seemed to move about on its own, even without the slightest breeze, and as it moved, she could have sworn she saw it slide across the fold of wings tightly held against the body—that she saw something slither around the woman's neck like a—snake.

Lavender shook her head. Maybe she should have put better ventilation in their brewing room like that jerk Malfoy had recommended.

The woman picked up the jar of olive oil that had been sitting out on the shelf for far too long. It was extra virgin olive oil imported from Greece. It had been made on some small family farm that had been producing olive oil for hundreds of years. It was probably the best base for cosmetics, but no one wanted to pay the price for it. Even the label was written in Greek, so most of her customers didn't even know what it was.

"That's extra virgin olive oil from Greece."

"The Xanthopoulos family is very old," the woman remarked. "Their olive trees are even older than the family. The price for the oil is more than reasonable. Do you have any tins of it?"

"The cost is pretty expensive," Lavender admitted. It wasn't that she minded selling a high priced item, but most people tended to baulk at the cost.

"Humour me."

"It would be forty galleons for the full tin."

"Will this cover it?"

The woman placed a gold-coloured coin on the counter. Lavender picked it up saw it had the face of some scruffy-looking bloke with animal ears and messy hair embossed on one side and a gryphon gripping a spear on the other, a shaft of wheat at the bottom.

"It will be forty galleons," Lavender repeated. "I don't even know what that is."

The woman's lips twitched. "Worth considerably more than the gold it is crafted from."

"Look, I'm not a bank," Lavender said in an annoyed tone of voice. "I can't give you change for a gold coin."

"Then just take the coin," the woman suggested.

Lavender could have sworn she saw sunlight flash in the woman's eyes. Her cloak rustled by itself, unnerving her a bit.

"The bank is just down the way," Lavender said.

The woman closed her eyes, her hair falling around her face like a curly curtain.

"Suit yourself," she said with a shrug. She took the coin back and placed it in a small pouch that dangled from her corded belt. She pulled out another pouch and dug through it with her fingers, dumping a pile of galleons out on the countertop. She tapped them one by one as she counted out forty coins, stacking them neatly in four piles of ten before pocketing the rest.

Lavender brought out the heavy tin and placed it on the counter. The woman looped her fingers around the handle and carried it away.

She stopped at the door and glanced back over her shoulder. "If you want a bit of free advice," she said. "Don't meet your gentleman friend tonight. It won't turn out quite the way you hope it will."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lavender said.

The woman smirked slightly. "My mistake."

"Mummy! Look what I got with Auntie Amelia!"

Lavender saw a little girl with milky white skin and a head of shining black curls hold up a shiny golden key—a Gringotts vault key.

The woman smiled warmly. "Wonderful, Sofia. Did you put all your coins inside?"

The child's face puckered. "Of course I did, Mummy. I'm not a dunderhead."

The woman smiled. "You are certainly not, my love. Let's get some dinner with your aunt and then we can go back home."

"Can I get a familiar, too?"

"You know quite well that familiars pick the witch, young lady."

"But none of them pick me like yours!"

"Patience."

"What if I wait too long, and the only familiar left is a killer whale?"

The woman's face scrunched in consternation. "Doubtful. And if a whale did choose you, then you'd be grateful. Your attempts to manipulate me are not going to work."

"Daddy will believe me!" the child announced, bouncing away.

The woman smacked her lips once. "Doubtful."

The woman looked back at Lavender. "You may find that having is not so pleasing a thing as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true." (ST)

Lavender scowled as the strangely familiar woman left.

"You turned down a coin, Lav?" Parvati asked. "Why?"

"It was a gold-COLOURED coin, but for all I know it could have been a ruddy fake. The strange lady put it down on the counter like it was worth something. Like someone trying to pawn old robes off as being valuable when all they are is trash."

Parvati dug through the shelves and found an old book and flipped it open, flipping pages. "You said it had a man with animal ears and an animal on back? Did it have wings too?"

"I think so—"

"Did it have a sheaf of wheat on the bottom?"

"I don't know, maybe," Lavender yelled, "why does it even matter?!"

"Did it look like THIS?!" Parvati yelled, shoving the collectible coin book in front of her face.

Lavender took a step back and squinted. "Yeah, so what? It's one of those old coins you hocked so we could stock the store—"

Parvati shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you took forty galleons over that coin! That was a Panticapaeum stater coin from the ancient Greek city that is now Crimea. My father collects rare coins, that's how I know about it. Lav, that one coin was worth almost one million bloody galleons! We could have been out of debt and living on a damn island drinking those stupid fancy drinks out of pineapples with little paper umbrellas in them!"

"There's no way that coin was real, Parvati!" Lavender screeched. "I've never even seen that person before!"

The door jingled as a little girl rushed in carrying a bunch of supplies from the various shops. She stared at all the bottles on the shelves making grabby hands at the ones just out of her reach. The older witch who followed in her looked at Lavender and Parvati apologetically.

"Sorry, she really wants to get her grandma something special."

The little girl was pointing at the high quality imported French hand-creme.

"Are you sure you don't want something more affordable?" Lavender asked, knowing the family was notoriously poor. All of the things the girl was carrying around had probably put them into dire straights.

The little girl shook her head. "I want the best for grandma," she said. "She's always taken good care of me when mummy had to go work."

Lavender grimaced as she looked at the mother for help. The little girl had always been very touchy with her products, and she always asked so many insufferably curious questions. She was an annoying little brat, but Lavender tolerated her because her mum would come in and buy a few things every other week.

Surprisingly, the woman just smiled. "It's ok. Little Seraphina was very kind to a lady in another shop, and she gave her a coin as a thank you for being nice to her familiar. When we took it to Gringotts, he said it was a gold fifty drachmai coin from the eighteen hundreds. It was worth no less than four thousand galleons! And now we can pay off all our debts and afford to get a little extra for the people who have taken care of our little Seraphina while we had to work."

Lavender felt her heart fall into her stomach as the daggers from Parvati's eyes stabbed directly into the back of her skull. Suddenly, in that horrible moment, she realised that the coin had been real, and she had let salvation for her and Parvati's business slip through her fingers due to her suspicious nature and a total lack of faith.

And this stupid little brat—

She'd been nice to a complete stranger and pulled her entire family out of the poorhouse.

Life just wasn't fair!

"Lord Sanguini," one of the vampires said, bowing his head in a somewhat simpering manner.

"Marius," Sanguini said coolly, his eyes flicking toward him and then to his "companions." "I see that your master has been—busy."

Marius smiled rather creepily as he yanked the chains attached to the collars around the necks of the latest "acquisitions."

"Master has been most gracious in allowing me the honour of training his new fledgelings."

The two female fledgelings whimpered and cowered before everyone, but on sensing Sanguini's power, they, too, cowered against the strength of his aura much as Marius had done.

"Lord Sanguini," another voice purred, and Marius and his fledgelings tried to plaster themselves to the floor.

"Hello, old friend," Sanguini rumbled in response. Their power seemed to roll against each other like two opposing great cats rubbing up against each other. They both simultaneously bit their hands, and drank from each other. Their eyes fluttered slightly as their irises glowed ominously on their fields of onyx black.

The elder vampire began to laugh. "Hahahhahah, old friend. You've been so naughty. That was like taking a double shot firewhisky straight to the arteries. I knew you had been holding out on us. It was only a matter of time."

"You were my only ally on this accursed Council," Sanguini said. "The only one I could trust, Lord Rada."

"Perhaps, you will now see the reason for a coalition between us," Rada said. "Seeing as between you and I and your mates, we would be far more capable of—"

Rada glowered at Marius, who was clutching the chains of the female fledgelings—"keeping our younger vampires in check."

"Oh, I don't know," Sanguini said with a smug smile. "You might sprout wings. Just think of all the tailoring bills."

"I would—somehow survive," Rada said with an equally smug smile.

"And you, my Lady wife? My beloveds—" Sanguini purred as Hermione and Severus joined him at his side, their wings linked together. "How would you feel about doing a little power consolidation?"

"Lord Rada," Hermione said with a bow of her head. "How do you feel about Volcanic Nightmare Hounds?"

At that very moment a very enthusiastic Kai and Aine came bounding in with the spastically flailing body of a simpering vampire dangling from their jaws, their magma drool causing the vampire to smoke and burn. They bowled over Marius and the two fledglings like a pair of runaway cricket bats on the fly and dropped their now-burning cargo in a charred and smoking heap.

Rada smiled genuinely. "I believe I think much better of them at this moment. I welcome them, even. Oh, look—" He pulled a gem-studded golden chalice out of thin air with a flourish. "I found the Everlasting Goblet."

"Lord Rada," Sanguini said with an appraising grin. "Did you perhaps nick that from Lord Augustine?"

"He'll never miss it," Rada said lightly as he bit his wrist and let the blood drip into the golden chalice. "It's not like he's ever going to trust anyone enough to share power."

The vampires all bit their wrists and let their blood mingle together as a surge of cold vampiric magic combined. They all drank one after the other, and a secondary nova of pure, cemented power blasted outward with the roar of combined beasts. Rada shuddered, staggered, and then let out a scream of exhilaration as a pair of dragon wings burst from his back and fanned, and a chase of magical tattoos spread from his mouth where he licked away the blood across his skin before disappearing physically but glowing magically.

Aine approached him, tail wagging, and Rada placed a hand on the hound's magma-laden head and soothed her ears.

"Hello, beautiful lady."

Aine picked up one of her newest pups and wagged her tail at him.

"Would you like a—puppy, my Lord Raga?" Hermione said with amusement. "You might have to flame proof your living space."

Rada took the pup in his arms and snuggled him, and the happy pup eagerly licked his chin, basting him with lava slurps. There was a warm heat as the two became soulfully entangled in the familiar bond.

"I love him," he rumbled. "I shall call you Grigore, which means watchful or alert. Does this please you, my friend?"

Newly adopted Grigore barrooooed happily, altogether happy to please.

Tesfaye licked her chops, contemplating nudging one of her cubs over to the elder vampire as well because jealousy was definitely a thing. She plucked up one fuzzbucket Nundu cub off her abused brother, used one huge paw to swat one of other cubs off him, and walked up to Rada, cub in mouth.

"For me?" Rada said, his eyes growing wide. He swallowed hard and grappled with the cub while holding the pup, and both took turns basting his face with licks from each side as another surge of familiar magic slammed into place.

The Nundu cub and the Volcanic Nightmare pup seemed altogether happy about their latest life choices.

"I shall call you Silviana, which is of the forest," Rada said with warmth.

The happy Nundu cub tried to remove Rada's cheek with her raspy tongue, oblivious.

Hermione smiled and they all bowed their heads, and a secondary flare caused the goblet to shatter, and the gems that encrusted it floated to each of their foreheads and embedded into their skin like the gem of a diadem.

Rada sighed. "So much for keeping that a secret," he mused.

"NO! Nononono!" one of the female vampire fledglings suddenly wailed. "You CAN'T be here too! Why can I NEVER escape you!"

Hermione turned her head and sighed as all three male vampires stared holes into the humiliated Lavender.

"I did try to warn you, Lavender," she said with a grim smile. "I even attempted to offer you a way out, but you wouldn't accept it. Your fate is entirely your own. You have no one to blame but yourself.

"She's one of Lord Augustine's?" Rada asked suddenly, not really expecting an answer. "He's quite the smooth talker when trolling for new fledgelings. He breaks them and then sends them to work in Knockturn Alley and other unsavoury environments to those who do not question where they get their releases." His face twisted in an expression of pure disgust. "It is an insult to the bond that should be honoured when Siring, but he has never been one to share power—very much like your old Sire," Rada said. "They remain forever stuck in the distant past, when the only one who mattered was the sire, and all the sire cared about was power and influence and further enriching themselves."

"Though, to be fair," Rada said slowly. "I'm sure he bought them out of debt and kept his promise to the letter. But—you will struggle to meet hundreds if not thousands of years worth of—legalese."

"And whatever will he do with a beauty and fashion shop—considering he does not exactly do well in the sun to schmooze with clientele?"

"I bought it," Hermione said, a rather dark smile on her face.

"You, my love?" Sanguini said in disbelief. "Cosmetics? You've never needed such things for a beauty that could launch a thousand ships."

"Flatterer," Hermione accused, earning herself a seriously good snog. "I'm renting the space to a pair of underprivileged wizards who have long dreamed of opening their own joke shop. As I understand it, they have, ah, considerable history with the owners of a certain shop. Seems said owners were stealing their orders and selling it themselves to obtain the funding to open their beauty business."

Severus closed his eyes. "Helping Weasleys, now, are we?"

"Just—" Hermione's eyes darkened as her fangs flashed. "Answering some heartfelt prayers for justice and opportunity."

The Laughing Dragon Opens In Diagon Alley

Jokes and Gags for All Ages

"Sofia," Severus said sternly.

Their young spawn gulped while sitting atop of one of Aine's half-grown pups like a warhound—complete with aluminium battle gear. "Yes, Daddy?"

"Are you responsible for the Whomping Willow having charred branches on one side?"

Sofia looked down. "Yes, Daddy."

"You will help the Krums rebuild their nests," Severus ordered. "Then do your homework." He lifted a flask and peered into it, judging its colour before corking it and placing a label on it.

His guilty child shuffled off to help clean up her "mess" as Sanguini walked in from outside.

"What happened to the willow?" Sanguini said, his brows knit together. "It looks like Tov had the hiccups."

"Our daughter," Snape said sourly.

Sanguini shook his head. "Sophia decided to ride her wardog through the branches?"

The guilty Volcanic Nightmare pup whined, lowering his head in shame as the aluminium helmet melted off his head.

Severus closed his eyes. "Obviously."

Sanguini sighed and leaned in to give Severus a kiss. "We will survive. If we're really lucky, we won't murder our own spawn before she can go to Hogwarts, and our Lady wife will not have to banish us from our marriage bed until it stops being funny.

"So—forever?" Severus said, his lip twitching.

"Probably," Sanguini said.

"Don't kill the child," Severus said. "Noted." His eyes darkened. "There are a lot of things we can do without killing her."

Sanguini chuckled darkly. "Indeed."

Meanwhile, Sofia cringed on the burnt-out limb of the willow as she hugged one of the Krum-roc's legs, vowing never to be so stupid again.

While inside, Severus and Sanguini exchanged mischievous parental glances in silence.

"Grandfather, let me through!"

The Dementor shook his head, pointedly blocking the doorway.

Sofia growled in frustration. "I need to see Mum! It's really important!"

Grandfather shook his head again, the message clear. The hoarfrost spread a little further out, signalling his growing agitation with the young witch.

Sofia's hair began to writhe as her magic flared, and with a surge of her untrained magic, she shoved Grandfather out from blocking the door and stormed right in—

To a writhing, seething Darkness.

It seemed like space itself only without the vacuum.

Pinpricks of light like distant stars swirled in dark, barely visible clouds of plasma that rose up like the Pillars of Creation as both visible and invisible light moved with clouds of gas and tendrils of cosmic dust and the radiation of young and old stars.

Hermione was suspending in the middle, cradling the body of someone as her head snapped up, eyes glowing like twin suns as her lips pulled back from glinting, crimson-coated fangs as she let out a low, snarling hiss.

"What. Do. You. Need," came the words, barely human. Behind her sounded off the screams of countless prayers and terror-filled exclamations.

Sofia gulped and slowly walked backwards out of the room and carefully shut the door.

Severus was waiting for her when she tried to back out of her parents' room, the scowl on his face directly contrasting with the normally neutral expression he wore when he wasn't gazing at his mates. While Sofia never doubted that her parents cared for her when she really, really thought about it, she also knew that there were certain expressions he only gave her mum and her other dad. Just as there were looks they only gave her—kind of like the one she was facing now, only this one was definitely not the soft around-the-edges one she preferred.

"To. Your. Room," her father said, his voice almost a bare whisper, but it might as well have been a yell.

The entire pressing need to ask if she could go out with her school friends was promptly forgotten; she jerked her head in assent and fled to her room in haste, realising in that moment that maybe her parents' rules were about something more than a way to ruin her fun.

Maybe, they weren't just there to frustrate her and deny her something she really wanted.

Maybe, just maybe, boundaries were there to keep her safe for a reason.

"You aren't like other mummies and daddies," Sofia observed quietly as she dangled her legs off one of the willow's branches.

Hermione closed her eyes and looked deep into the Dark Forest that had become her Domain. "No, love. We are not."

"That's the reason you don't allow me to have friends over," Sofia realised.

"Mmhmm," Hermione answered. "Most people are quite fearful of that which they do not understand. And there is a lot to not understand around here. But for those who have the proper mindset—this is a place of sanctuary and peace."

"Like all the beasts here," Sofia said.

"Yes," Hermione answered.

Sofia snuggled up to her mum. "You're really scary sometimes, Mum."

"I learned from the very best," Hermione mused, smiling as she rubbed her daughter's back.

"What? Who is more scary than that?" Sofia demanded.

"When I was your age, your father was absolutely terrifying," Hermione said with a chuckle. "It was long before I came to know him. Before I learned he had my safety, my life, my education, even my happiness in mind far more than I ever did. This was long before we fell in love."

Hermione was leaning into Severus, her eyes closed even as she held her daughter close.

Sofia took Sanguini's hand and pulled him closer so they resembled a rather odd grouping of birds on a branch.

She stared off across the treetops as the rocs swirled and banked in the wind overhead.

"That's what you and daddies do for me," Sofia said, a smile tugging at her lips. "You try to keep me safe. Give me an education. Happy moments."

"We can only do our best," Hermione said. "Sometimes I have to go to my mum and dad for advice. We never stop learning. That is life."

Sofia kicked her legs enthusiastically. "Mummy?"

"Hrm?"

"Can I see your fangs? They're really cool! Daddy's too!"

Severus and Sanguini both exchanged arched eyebrows as their spawn inspected Hermione's extended fangs with the enthusiasm of a dentist.

"Family of dentists," Severus muttered.

"I heard that!" Mr Granger called from inside the willow.

Severus chuckled just before his happy spawn poked his mouth too. He rolled his eyes tolerantly.

"My parents have the coolest teeth!" Sofia announced with glee.

The Granger grandparents may or may not have been super proud of Sofia's fascination with the teeth on all the vampires and beasts to be found in the Domain of Dark Goddess of Beasts.

Hermione walked into her living room and took in the sight of her daughter sitting in the "window" overlooking the Dark Forest as she cradled a certain silver tabby in her lap.

"Do you think I'll fit in?" Sofia worried. "I come from a very talented family, and I'm afraid I'll look so stupid compared to everyone else."

Minerva swatted her hand with a paw.

Sofia slumped. "I can't help it. I've been watching Hogwarts from a distance all my life, seeing everyone passing through, but what if I can't fit in with the other students? What if no familiar chooses me? What if the owls all hate me because I smell like a mix of beasts? What if I'm the only one in the family that has no beast traits? Uncle Rada tells me I'm too young to become a vampire, but what's too young for an immortal? What if I'd be a lousy vampire and I'm meant to become a dentist? What if I'm supposed to be a Muggle weapons engineer and MI:8 agent? What if I'm really supposed to be a marine biologist?"

"I'd say you need to worry more about your schooling, child, and whatever you end up being is good enough as long as you put your heart into it," Lord Rada said as he glided in.

Minerva leapt off Sofia's lap and transformed as Rada enfolded her with a soft hiss.

"Hello, my love. Are you having fun contemplating retirement?" the elder vampire teased.

"Ffft," Minerva said. "Just wool gathering a bit, thinking about how I ended up here and with you. I look like a bloody grave robber next to you."

Rada gave her a kiss to the forehead. "If anyone is robbing the grave, it is me. I'm thousands of years older than you. Maybe you will run circles around me for I am but an old, shrivelled man."

"Ew, are you two going to kiss?" Sofia complained, scrunching up her nose.

"For starters," Rada purred, just a glint of fang showing. His talons oh so gently teased the side of Minerva's neck.

"If you are going to consummate your mating bond—not that I disapprove at all, please do—can you at least do it out of sight of my young child who will undoubtedly be traumatised into becoming a weapons engineer and joining MI:8?" Hermione suggested. She smoothly cast a stealthy spell on her daughter to keep her from hearing Rada's rather determined courtship suggestiveness.

"Mmm, a Turning during the daylight—now that would be a most glorious achievement," Lord Rada purred as he ran his fingers slowly down Minerva's spine so that she shuddered. "Someone has to be the first to do it. How many years do you think we will need to sleep in the Earth to give you the very best chance of making Lord Augustine squirm? He's already so very jealous of our day-walking ability."

Hermione attached a happy Nundu cub to her daughter and had it herd the young witch away.

"You need a little good in your life after everything you've been through, Minerva," Hermione said to the elder witch. "You sacrificed your first husband and love for magic. Your second to cruel fate— don't you think it's time you let some—rather handsome older gentleman take care of you?"

Minerva snort-chortled. "He looks so much younger than me."

"So do I," Hermione said with a mischievous smile through her eyes. "Child."

Minerva burst out laughing, and Hermione smiled. "You do not have to be a god to affect a life in positive ways, and you have. So many lives. You can release that guilt that you were never able to prevent what drove us all here—but in all honesty, knowing what is here now, would you really want to? I could show you a hundred different outcomes if only one step goes pear-shaped. A chain of decisions that lead to tragedy. In the end, you have brought fairness and peace to a school that knew nothing but social boundaries and segregation."

Hermione tilted her head. "What I am—what I did become, what I could have been. It does not matter. The centaur are now an acknowledged people. Proud. Strong. The rocs live amongst us—alive and well. The Dark beasts all gather here in this place, safe from the threats out there, much as the DoM was for me as a child. What Mihail had to do was necessary. What ultimately forced him to do it—was fate. What set into motion the chain of events that drove a jealous witch to curse me—was human. And sometimes those deeds are punished by those like my Mother, and sometimes we must let mistakes happen. For, much like a parent, the gods cannot hold the hands of everyone just in case they might fall. We must pick our battles. Hear their prayers. Provide just enough mystery and miracle to leave a sense of wonder in the world. And you, Minerva, have the right to be happy."

Hermione bit her wrist and smoothly offered it to Lord Rada, who took it gently, his eyes rolling back slightly at the sharing of power and understanding in a moment of trust. She closed her eyes as power flowed between them. She met his eyes. "Your sleep will not be as long as you think, you needn't worry. You'll have all the time you need but in just one night here. You will not leave your Get unguarded as you tend to your mate."

Rada's eyes widened as realisation dawned. Emotion swam there. He kissed the inside of her wrist, bowing slightly. "How lucky we are to have you as an ally—as a friend."

"And thank you, Lord Rada, for watching over Mihail and keeping his secret," Hermione said warmly. "Were it not for you, none of us would be where we are now, much less as friends or allies. We may be Dark, but we do not live in darkness anymore."

"Rada, my Lady," he said quietly. "We are friends, are we not?"

Hermione smiled. "Hermione then."

Rada bowed his head. "Hermione."

Amelia sipped her tea much as she did every morning, only much to her surprise, the sky wasn't falling, dragonbats weren't resurrecting the entire Mayan civilisation, Dumbledore didn't have his fingers poking around in every pot, Hogwarts wasn't having a random crisis every other day, Potter wasn't falling down trapdoors into the long lost Chamber of Secrets Part XXIV, all of the beasts division had been transferred to the super secret sanctuary hidden right under the Wizarding World's nose, and the view of the sunset from the Whomping Willow was just downright stunning.

"You look like the cat who swallowed the canary," Alastor observed with a grunt.

"You look like a scruffy-looking Nerf-herder," she retorted.

"I won't even ask," Alastor said, shaking his head. He rubbed his stubble. "I am, admittedly, scruffy-looking.

Amelia snorted. "I will admit, things are so much less troublesome now that the manipulative old goat isn't around to make things super difficult."

"Oh, he's a round, all right," Alastor said with a snort. "Round and heavily milk-laden."

Amelia pfffffted into her teacup. "Please, I'm trying to drink my tea."

"Want some milk?"

"Not from a certain goat, thanks," Amelia said.

"Your loss," Alastor said, munching on a piece of goat milk fudge. "He was a right pain in everyone's arse, but he makes a mean pan of fudge."

Amelia slumped, shaking her head. "Well, the Beast Division is happily settled in this little slice of paradise, and with the fact that the managers are highly unlikely to die anytime soon, I think I just shed about two hundred years worth of stress lines in advance."

"Planning on living another two hundred years?" Alastor asked.

Amelia shook her head. "I may at least live to be over a hundred now that I'm not constantly beating back the stupid."

"Still, you should be careful," Alastor warned. "People here do seem to get lifemated at an astronomically high rate. A lot of interesting prayers have been answered here."

"As if anyone would want this old sack of bones, if you'll pardon the expression," Amelia mused with a huff. "I find that highly unlikely."

"Well, if the likes of Sirius Black can become an upstanding member of society and shake hands with Lucius Malfoy without going into convulsions, anything is possible, ma'am," Alastor said. "I managed to retire without losing any more limbs. That could be considered a miracle in itself."

Grandfather drifted in and refilled their tea and then floated back out as Bling swept all the shed Nundu hair out of the main room and out the door.

Amelia arched a reddish-blonde brow. "Bah, I don't see myself with anyone who doesn't know the DoM like I do, and if they actually know the DoM like I do, they'll probably want to be as far away as possible from that seething cauldron of rabid hellcats."

"Bullshite," Alastor said with a soft snort. "You're a damned fine woman that anyone should be honoured to have you. If they can't handle a little DoM timeshare here and there, then they don't know their ruddy arse from a hole in the ground."

"Defending me now, Alastor?" Amelia said with a chuckle.

"Yes. No—" Alastor let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm asking you out. You're no longer my boss, so I can ask you out for a bloody coffee."

Amelia's hand hovered with her teacup in hand. "Oh—"

Sofia kicked her legs off the branch as she cuddled a Volcanic Nightmare pup.

"Are you sure my mum isn't related to Aphrodite because there is way too much kissing going on in this tree."

The pup wagged his tail in oblivious agreement.

As Severus, Hermione, and Sanguini walked through the portal in King's Cross onto Platform 9 ¾, the sight of the bright red Hogwarts' Express shining in the morning sun spanned the platform. People flitted about everywhere as crying kids, crying mums, and crying pets and familiars all caterwauled together.

The vampires grimaced slightly at the extreme brightness and the noise combined, more accustomed to the diffused light of their heavily wooded willow home and the sounds of a variety of beasts as opposed to the dazzling late summer sun and the shrill screams of overexcited children and the emotional wails of their parents as they said goodbye.

Sofia clung to her owl cage and the rufous fishing owl she'd dubbed Marin hooted his disgruntled annoyance at being rudely jostled around. She muttered an apology as she set his cage down and took a quick inventory of her supplies.

"Are you sure I have everything?" she asked worriedly.

Severus arched an ebony brow. "I think you managed to bring everything you didn't need."

Sanguini tutted. "You have everything."

Sofia looked unsure and she stared at her mum, clearly in desperate need of reassurance.

Hermione kneeled down and looked her paranoid spawn in the eyes. "You'll be fine, love. If you can go riding Nundu-back through the forest and not get scraped off by a tree branch, then you can handle Hogwarts. You fathers have already taught you the basics long before you even got your wand. You've read every single book in our library, which is no mean feat in and of itself. You'll be alright. Just remember to treat people respectfully even if they are obnoxious rampaging heathens that should be eaten alive and screaming by a Nundu."

Sofia grinned and hugged her mum tightly. "I love you, Mum."

"I love you too, sweetling," Hermione said with a smile. "Now, go meet up with Scorpius before he lays a dragon egg."

Sofia giggled, hugged both her fathers, and dashed to the train with all of her stuff.

"Oi! Wotchit, runt!" someone blurted as she scampered up the train stairs, Scorpius helping to pull her in.

Hermione spotted a familiar mop of black hair echoed in a smaller clone, and Harry Potter seemed to pause to give his son the traditional pep talk.

Harry, Hermione figured, she could handle, and he had waited to marry, unlike a lot of their former classmates. Draco, too, had waited to find the right match, as Lucius had been far more willing with the Dark Lord out of the picture to let his son take his time to find the one that wouldn't punch him in the face before giving him an heir.

From what she'd heard, Sirius, Kingsley, and Remus had worked together to shape Harry into a respectable—or at least less of an emotion-triggered ticking time bomb—wizard who had learned to judge people based on their own merits rather than on stories and rumours or even that hot tempered gut feeling that had let him astray so many times before.

He seemed to be utterly awkward when talking to her, though, as if her status as Sanguini's and Severus' mate in the vampire hierarchy had somehow made her extremely difficult to meet up for tea with if he didn't make an appointment at the proper place at the proper time and with the proper amount of grovelling.

She wasn't particularly inclined to tell him that people like Lucius, Minerva, Alastor, Amelia—all of them had just asked through the Floo like any normal person. Maybe it was because he had no idea what last name to use.

Vampires went by their title and first name—or rather their known name or alias depending on how old they were and if their sire "gifted"them a name in order to abolish their old sense of identity.

When Sofia had come, she had been curious about all the history, pictures, records, and what have you, but Harry was never one of the people who showed up for their regular Sunday dinners—or any dinners for that matter.

When it came to her heritage, Harry wasn't of a high enough clearance level to know—as only the DoM knew the true extent of what had happened to her. His guilt, however, seemed to weigh heavily on him.

The loss of the Weasleys, however, had also taken the wind out of his sails as, despite the fact that he had tried to befriend Draco and the other Slytherins after she was apprenticed—a part of him had still failed at being understanding when she had really needed him to be.

Like when he'd accused her of being a heartless murderer for letting Fen, Aine, Tesfaye, and Tanith take out the Death Eater who had attempted to kill her during the World Cup—

He'd implied, unfortunately, that it would've been better for her to die than use a harmful spell against another person, and therein had lain the dagger in the back of their friendship.

No matter how hard he had tried to fit in, he still thought like the Weasleys had taught him.

No good ever came from Slytherin.

Hermione had tried to, much as her parents taught her, to be polite. But, even Viktor had known that her trust with Harry was limited.

Suddenly, she was being glomped by an enthusiastic eleven-year-old, and Hermione grabbed the young witch and spun her.

"Auntie!" the little witchling cried, happy to see her. "I was late! Daddy had a game and had to beat off a bunch of fans!"

"I did not beat off fans," Viktor protested as he came up. "I pressed through most insistently."

Hermione laughed and kissed young Varvara on the forehead. "You have a good year at Hogwarts, love. We already discussed this back at the tree, but you know we will be close if anything should happen."

Varvara nodded and gave Severus and Sanguini hugs too. "It will be so odd—" she said. "Sleeping in a bed instead of a nest."

Hermione laughed. "You will get used to it," she said. "I believe in you."

Varvara grinned and gathered her stuff and dashed over to where Scorpius and Sofia were waving frantically at her from a train window.

Viktor inhaled deeply and let his breath go. "Vorse than Quidditch game stress. Feels like vatching egg crack little by little, vondering if chick vill break through or suffocate."

Hermione chuckled and gave her knight and brother the warmest of hugs. "She'll be fine, brother."

"If she go to Durmstrang, she just curse vhatever bother her," Viktor said, slowly rubbing his neatly trimmed beard. "Hogwarts wery confusing place."

Hermione laughed. "We'll be close by if anything happens."

"Hey Hermione," Harry said awkwardly as he approached her. His brown Auror robes showed some wear, and Hermione knew he hadn't been taking care of himself as well as he could have.

"Hello, Harry," she said. Childhood was over, and what was done was done. While her Mother would usually say that justice cared not how long ago it had been between strikes, her balances—Severus and Sanguini—had taught her that forgiveness did not mean what had happened no longer mattered, but she had so much time ahead of her. That mortals like Harry had only a finite time in which to figure things out and live their life to completeness.

"We should get you over to Agatha's," she said.

"Oh, I've been using spells—" Harry protested.

Hermione arched a brow. "Harry. Be reasonable. Let me help you get some robes that aren't going to split the moment you bend over in front of some poor victim of Dark magic."

"But I don't want to inconvenience—"

Severus, tired of the protests, interjected, "Potter, unless you wish to traumatise the victims further by the highly unwelcome sight of your dangly bits hanging out of your tatty pants right through the gaping holes in your robes, I would highly recommend you let Agatha's spiders take care of you— before someone else takes care of you."

Harry's eyes widened, his Adam's apple bobbing. "When you put it that way… okay."

Severus shot a look at Sanguini and the vampire smiled wickedly as the train pulled away. All of them waved and smiled at their departing children.

Sanguini turned to regard Harry with an utterly smug expression that, had Harry known Sanguini at all, he would have probably realised he was caught in a trap and might have to gnaw off his own leg to escape.

"I know just the style that would suit you," Sanguini said smoothly, oozing honeyed velvet with each word.

Much later, Harry would realise that while Hermione may have forgiven him, Sanguini was a merciless bastard of a master vampire who didn't need to sink his teeth into him to remind him that there were so many other kinds of torture that didn't even require him lifting so much as a finger.

As Harry unpacked the crate from Agatha's, the sight of all the trousers, shirts, and underclothes in disturbingly loud colours and dizzying psychedelic patterns that accompanied his new Auror robes caused his baffled wife and younger children to wonder aloud what sort of fashion torture he had inflicted upon himself and if maybe he would be going undercover as a thespian.

That night, Severus himself admitted that Sanguini had won that round just before they descended upon their delectable mate with merciless efficiency.

Meanwhile, the now-happy Whomping Willow swayed gently in the night breeze as the roc family came home to roost, the Nundus sprawled out lazily on many a branch, and the Volcanic Nightmares nestled with the duly-blessed centaur after many successful hunts, allowing them to preserve and cook the catch of the day over their heated bodies.

Tovenares yawned toothily as she curled her bulk around the base of the willow and Bertje and Tanith happily nestled on the ridges on Tov's massive head. The Dementors ensured the latest acquisitions were fed for the night before floating up to guard their beloved mistress and her mates.

When Hermione managed to escape her exhausted mates that had entwined themselves together on the bed, she sat down with her legs dangling off the willow's branch and remembered a time so very long ago when her only friends had been the willow and the Dementors.

Grandfather hovered silently beside her, and she took his hand and pulled him closer, allowing him to embrace her as of old. She sighed and eased into his warmth, feeling the thrum of his Dark energy soothing her like a balm.

She felt the strokes of her old brush against her hair and smiled, relaxing completely to his ministrations.

His hand gently pressed against her abdomen, and Hermione's eyes widened with delight. She snuggled into Grandfather with happy celebration, content to share this new epiphany with the one friend that had never left her side from the very beginning.

The other Dementors and Fen gathered around, settling themselves about her for a share of her radiant Darkness and celebratory warmth, and she welcomed them beside her.

As she always had.

And always would.

Fen lay his head in her lap and looked up at her adoringly, his favourite stick in his mouth as he wagged his tail.

Hermione smiled as her hand wrapped around it and she flung it high into the night sky, and Fen promptly tore off after it, a trail like a comet glowing in his wake.

Hermione, Dark Goddess of Beasts, smiled.

She was content.

The End?

*shifty eyes*

A/N: Um, so, that was long. And so it "ends" the story of the birth of the Dark Goddess. While that had been the plan from the start, Sanguini oozed his way into the story enough to inspire me to finish it. I hope you enjoyed it.

Please thank Dragon and the Rose for sacrificing the bliss of sleep to the Dark gods in order to beta this final chapter.