Beta Love: There may be a beta in my life. Her name might have a Dragon in it. Rose was it? Carnation? Iris? Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, and that ever-elusive Commander Shepard.
Nine Tails of Retribution
Chapter 5
Do the right thing. It will gratify some people and astonish the rest.
Mark Twain
-Severus-
I woke and yawned widely, tongue lolling in a very satisfying manner.
Hrm.
Muzzle. Ears. Paws.
Didn't dream that part up, apparently.
Hermione yawn-yipped next to me, snuggling into my neck.
It felt so good to feel her there— close and content. I could feel the bonds of magic thrum between us, stronger than ever. Stronger than I had ever thought possible. Believed possible—
I had never once believed someone like her could have returned my hidden affection—
My closet guilt.
I had once been her teacher, and a part of me had felt more than a little bit of guilt over the change in my heart that had made her into something so attuned to my life that the very thought of her leaving it caused me actual physical pain.
The role of the teacher had somehow shifted into that of comrades— colleagues. And somehow— in becoming a peer subconsciously— she had become something treasured and important.
Cherished.
Loved.
Perhaps, I had loved her even longer than that, only it had evolved into something more than just the care of a master for their apprentice. Her mind, devotion, the way she puzzled out solutions, refused to back down from any cause—
I had shoved any and all revelations into the box at the back of my mind, forcing my heart to stop giving me conflicting situations—
So what if she'd been everything good in my life?
So what if I— loved her?
There was no way she could have possibly returned such feelings.
No way she could ever accept a man as old and broken as me.
I had been willing to hide that bit away forever, never to admit it to her, if it meant she could go out there and live a relatively normal life.
But what was normal for either of us, really?
And what wreck of a man would I have been if she had, leaving a void in my life that even Lily couldn't—?
Lily had never once shown me the kind of trust that Hermione had and did.
She had never accepted my faults or encouraged me without demanding something of me.
Hermione made me want to be a better person, but she never gave ultimatums. Even when she argued with me over semantics and potions and even the Daily Prophet, there was always respect. She didn't threaten to take something away if I didn't meet her expectations—
Hell, I'm not even sure if she had expectations of me outside my duties as a master.
But at that moment when I was dying of blood loss— all I had cared about was that she didn't become the monster Umbridge would have deserved to have ripped her to shreds.
Hermione was so much better than her—
Better than so many others.
Her purity of heart had survived so much hardship, and no one, not the Dark Lord or Madam Umbridge was going to steal that from her if I could help it.
How could I have known that she fostered a love for me in return?
To hope. To dream?
Even knowing she was well beyond her years already thanks to her Time-turning— even before she had been aged by Lupin's wish to save people from himself. Knowing that, a part of me had still harboured such guilt in feeling such things for her.
"You really shouldn't worry about such things. Especially now."
I jolted, looking around.
"It's me. Fawkes."
I stared at the phoenix that was preening himself on the back of the wingback chair.
Dare I ask a phoenix I didn't even realise could speak what he meant by that?
Fawkes used his beak to preen his foot, working between the talons. "You're a spirit of the Earth. A demon to some. A ghost to others. Some will see you a beast, others a bad omen. Yet others will see you as what you are— a Kitsune, capable of great good or evil depending on the treatment you are given."
Fawkes changed to the other foot, working it thoroughly with his beak. "You are not only a Kitsune, Severus. You are bound in the blood and ash of a phoenix. My children wish to bind themselves to you both, and that promises an enriched life far beyond what mortals know."
Fawkes looked at him, black eyes shining. "Why quibble over a handful of years? Mere blinks of an eye."
"You made Dumbledore immortal?"
Fawkes chuckled. "No. He is far too concerned with the end of life to embrace true immortality. We can be companions, but to truly bind one's self to another requires a true meeting of the souls. He guards too much. His soul most of all. One must open one's self to faith and wholly trust in order to make a bond— but the only one Albus truly trusts is himself."
"I am not a trusting sort," Severus admitted.
Fawkes fluffed his feathers and smoothed them down. "More than you think, Severus," the phoenix replied. "You trusted her."
Severus turned his head to look at Hermione as she slept trustingly against him. "How could I not? She saved me— from myself. From the world. From Dumbledore— from the Dark Lord and his Mark."
"You saved each other, Severus," Fawkes pointed out. "It is what we do for those we care for. We do amazing things for those we love."
I flinched a bit. To admit love was not something I did.
Emotions and I had a very dysfunctional relationship starting from childhood. Admitting that my father hurt me was only part of it— letting my emotions get the better of me and calling Lily that horrible word was but another nail in the already well-built coffin.
But Hermione—
She had been someone to protect from the very start. Her parents' deaths had opened one door even as it closed another. She had been allowed into my world in a way no other could see, and I had been allowed into hers.
She had grown up so quickly, and somehow—
I had forgotten just how quickly she had.
She reminded me of Lily—
Not the real Lily but the image I had built of her in my mind.
Brilliant. Bossy. Champion of the underdog.
Lily had been a dream my heart wished for.
Hermione was real.
"Doe niet zo stom!" a certain aubergine chick cheeped as she hopped off Hermione's head and hopped off to find fruit.
Oh, really?
Fawkes chuckled, ruffling his feathers. "Aalish was always the most forward of my current clutch of chicks. In whatever language she chooses— or whatever name she goes by. Calida protested the name Eggplant, so of course, Aalish wanted it all the more."
Fawkes looked at me, his black eyes seemingly evaluating me for the Afterlife. "What you have found is something truly precious, Severus. Timeless. When you meet means nothing when life is long. Would you have had her forced into a mediocre life even as her heart pined for you, all for an ideal those with short lives make? She is not a chick that has not fledged and is still reliant on her parents to stuff fruit mash into her ever-hungry mouth. You did not steal her from the cradle. Rejoice in finding each other without having to live a thousand lifetimes first."
Well, when he put it like that—
I swallowed and nodded, a little rattled by the sensation of my ears swivelling above me and my three tails flopping on their own as if deciding what they wanted to do without my permission.
"I have something for the both of you," Fawkes said. He flew over to one of the shelves and pulled out a stealthily hidden box. He dropped it on the bed in front of me.
I stared at it like one would eye a crocodile lurking under the water.
I carefully nosed the lid of the box off.
And stared.
And stared a bit more.
Glistening silver-golden (they looked like metal, but I had a feeling they weren't truly metal any more than I was truly a normal fox) bells hung on silken cords— the kind of ornament that seemed so foreign and yet familiar. Magic practically dripped off of them. I could feel it.
"They're spirit bells," Fawkes explained. "A matched set for you and Hermione. Wouldn't want some random Kitsune thinking you weren't a proper Kitsune, hrm?"
"What exactly makes a Kitsune a proper Kitsune?" I asked.
Fawkes opened his beak and warbled in a phoenix laugh. "You might as well ask what makes a phoenix a proper phoenix then try to figure out how my chicks all fit into that category."
I sputtered a little and touched my nose to the bells, and there was a tingle as the cord seemed to wrap around my very soul as they merged with my body, appearing behind my ears. There was a soft, serene tinkle as the bells clinked together— not the sound I had expected at all.
It was like feeling Hermione in my soul.
With some alarm, I realised that the other set of bells had infested themselves into Hermione's body as well, but she simply yawned and snuggled closer to me, utterly oblivious to the soulful experience.
Her trust in magic— hell, in me— was something my heart rejoiced in but my mind boggled over. I hadn't had such faith in a very long time. My tendrils of faith seemed so thin and frail.
"Doe niet zo stom!" Eggplant announced, rapping my head with her beak before fluttering off with a gooseberry in her beak.
What the everloving hell?
Fawkes laughed, his voice sounding like gravel and warbles mixed together. "She said, don't be stupid."
Was I scowling? I felt like I was scowling.
"You may think your faith to be thin and frail, but it is much like spider silk, Severus. It is stronger than you think. Your faith in her and hers in you— it is the kind of thing people tell stories about. It is why your coat remains black but your heart is untainted by the hate. You and she— you are a balance. You are both the other's anchor. Something precious. Now, you have all the time in the world to savour what you have gained, hone your pranks, and help those who honour you."
"Pranks?" I couldn't help but think of how pranks went against me back in the day or the twin Weasley heathens and their insufferable inventions.
"Tricks are the very soul of the Kitsune," Fawkes said, tilting his head with a sideways warble. "But they need not be as malicious as those in your history."
I had to admit that I immediately thought the worst when it came to pranks. Marauders came to mind. The Weasley twins second. The Marauders had always pulled tricks that caused harm and humiliation to others. The twins tried to amuse and do right and ended up making children sick or hurt either on purpose or by design. While not all of their tricks caused harm, I did recall Hermione telling me how she had read them the riot act for testing their products on the younger children.
So fierce, Hermione. She was always so fierce.
Yet, I knew she was also vulnerable under that fire. Innocent. I didn't want to see her corrupted by the likes of Sirius Black, the Dark Lord, or even the self-righteous stupidity of one Harry Blurt-Out-All-Your-Secrets Potter.
"Mmm," Hermione mumbled, yawning while showing all of her pearly white teeth. She rolled over in the bed and suddenly took on the form of a human witch. She pulled me against her like a favourite plush, snuggling her face deep into my black fur and inhaling deeply. "Severus."
I'd never really liked my name until then.
Suddenly, I wanted to hear it.
All the time.
Over and over.
Poof!
I was human again— well, at least shaped like one. I had a feeling that the soulful transformation into a Kitsune was perhaps somewhat deeper than some random Animagus form.
I was also—
Quite starkers, thank you.
Ohhhh shite.
Hermione gave me a tender lick against my cheek, and it travelled all the way down to my cock in about a nanosecond.
Well, that was clearly still functioning just fine, apparently.
I mean, well, admittedly we had gone at it together on the Head Table just the other night, but—
That had seemed like a formality of sorts rather than true lovemaking.
A kind of "See you in hell" salute to the bad rubbish that was the pink toad herself, Madam Dolores Umbridge, as it were.
Apparently, a sexually satisfied Kitsune made for some seriously potent magical power, too.
Who knew?
Well— Hogwarts did, ahem, now anyway.
"Severus," she repeated, her eyes opening sleepily and— oh gods. Was that look for me? Holy hell—
I was kissing her immediately, unable to resist the invitation she was so graciously throwing at me. She was mewling under me, her hands moving across my skin in a maddening intimacy. I'd had sexual encounters before, and while they had given me a bit of relief in some ways, they had never been accompanied by this heated desire to imprint myself over every inch of the one I was with. If anything, I'd been filled with a sort of disgust over myself that I could not satisfy my biology with just my hand.
Suddenly, the sensation of Hermione's hand wrapped around my bollocks, and my eyes rolled back in my head. "Fuck," I managed to say.
Crude, Severus. You're so bloody suave.
Hermione's smile was sly, her brown eyes sparkling with interest in my reaction. She massaged my balls until I was about ready to come like some randy teenager with no self-control whatsoever.
"Stop, please!" I pleaded. I was panting, my breath coming in gasps.
I saw her expression suddenly change, and I knew she thought she'd done something that displeased me, but that wasn't it at all. Hell and damnation, woman— that wasn't it EVER.
I slid my hand between her legs, and she was already more than ready, but I sought her bundle of nerves to give her back some of the heady pleasure my brain was marinating in. The moment my fingers brushed against her clitoris, she arched, crying out, and my fingers slid into her with the force of her buck.
Gods.
In my mind's eye, I knew she had once lain with Viktor Krum, and he'd been a tender, generous lover— the kind of lover that respected her enough to ask permission for her first time rather than simply assuming—
I knew they had been intimate— I knew he had been careful, never wishing to disgrace her with an unwanted pregnancy. They had parted on good terms, but Viktor had been a showman at heart who loved his sports and grandstanding. Hermione had not, but they still wrote to each other with Hermione congratulating him on his engagement to a Bulgarian witch who loved Quidditch just as much as Viktor did.
It was odd not to be jealous.
The old me would have been.
This new me?
Perhaps, Fawkes was right. I did have faith in Hermione.
Trust.
"Please, Severus," Hermione whispered, looking into my face.
My heart seized. "I love you," I said hoarsely, barely able to speak.
I thrust inside her, crying out as the very feel of her hit every single button I'd never known I had, and we coupled together in a frenzied heat where both our exclamations drowned together with our almost-panic to merge our very souls together.
Perhaps—they already were.
Had I known such a thing was even possible—
Such glorious passion returned.
Such an intense, driving need.
Such agonisingly exquisite rightness—
I would never have bloody cared that Lily repudiated me.
I would have waited— forever.
For her.
Hermione.
And maybe, just maybe, I actually had.
Maybe, I had waited long enough for just the right witch, just the right time, just the right amount of mistakes to know when I finally had something overwhelmingly precious.
As we collapsed together, panting, a strangled laugh coming from my throat as I contemplated the absurdity of fate and how things had eventually come together. I gently rubbed my beloved mate's belly as I gave her a tender but no less passionate kiss.
I thought of that bloody moron, Potter, and how his equally moronic son had almost single-handedly gotten us both killed.
The son who had heedlessly spilled all of Hermione's deepest secrets and put her precisely where that sadistic bitch Umbridge had wanted her—
May he get exactly what he deserves.
I pulled Hermione tightly against myself, pressing her back to my chest as my nose buried into her (I swear they are sentient) curls. My hand pressed against her abdomen, savouring the feel of her silken skin against mine.
Had sleep not carried me like a runaway train into blissful Oblivion, maybe I might have noticed the tingle of Hermione's responsive magic dancing between my fingers.
I might have put two and two together and gotten something other than Avagadro's number.
Maybe.
Doubtful, though.
-Harry-
I was my own worst enemy.
I knew it.
I'd gone and done what most would have considered utterly unthinkable—
I'd been so convinced that Hermione could save us all from that horrible pink toad, that I hadn't even considered what the possible consequences of that could be for her— or even for me.
I'd been so adamant that there was nothing Umbridge could do about it that I'd stupidly let her manipulate me into telling her everything she'd needed to know to get exactly what she wanted from Hermione: ultimate power and sweet revenge.
I'd been such a fool.
It hadn't taken the use of Veritaserum or torture to get the information out of me, oh no.
Just wind me up in the right direction— threaten my friends, gloat that I'd never be able to stop you— and I was all about jumping for the bait like a prize marlin, so terribly eager to prove you wrong.
Well, someone would say I'd lived my entire life avoiding responsibility.
It wasn't my fault that my parents had died.
It wasn't my fault my aunt and uncle were such awful people.
It wasn't my fault Dudley was more spoiled than I was.
Sure, it hadn't been my fault they shoved me in a cupboard for the first part of my life.
I hadn't done anything to deserve the abuse—
But I deserved to be dressed down by my supposed best friend.
The best friend I hadn't actually treated like one— ever.
The truth was, I had always given Ron a lot more slack than Hermione. He was my best male mate, and I felt I understood him.
Hermione—
I had never understood her.
Truth was, I never really tried.
She was always so eager to fit in. She was eager to do whatever we wanted— research anything she could— just to make things easier for us.
But when she had started to retreat into herself, study more, focus more, no longer tolerate our constant skiving off— well, we had both decided not to tolerate her, either.
So, almost as quickly as our friendship had bloomed, we had viciously stomped all over it.
Never once considering, let alone asking why Hermione might have become so laser-focused—
It wasn't until the headlines started trumpeting the news of the new Master Hermione Granger-Black-McGonagall-Snape that things had seemed to go a bit pear-shaped— the announcements came one after another… about her achieving a mastery, her early graduation, her previously unknown heritage, and her spontaneous marriage via magic, all in the same breath.
I suppose she was really Master Snape now—
And I shuddered at the implications of that.
I was far more hung up on that terrible "wrongness" than on the fact that she'd just passed her N.E.W.T.s with flying colours and had attained her mastery long before any of us, her supposed peers, had finished our fifth year.
Oh sure, the news all explained the entire authorised time turning for academics, blah, blah, blah— but my mind didn't really grasp that when it was constantly screaming SNAPE!
A representative for the DoM had informed me that it had been my foolishly drawing Hermione to Hogwarts that had forced Snape to sacrifice himself in order to save Hermione's "light." To keep her from going "black" and obliterating everyone around her with the unholy glee of a truly malicious Kitsune.
It was his sacrifice that had firmly anchored Hermione to the light and kept her from—how had Moody put it?
"Made the Dark Lord look like he was still sportin' ruddy shite-stained nappies."
As he stomped away, I think I heard him mutter something that sounded kind of like, "Oan yer trolley, you fucking weapon."
Whatever the hell that meant.
So—
Snape had saved Hermione.
And Hermione had somehow saved Snape right back.
But by marrying him?
Marrying him?
Marry?!
HIM?!
Madam Bones had walked out of the Great Hall with two foxes under her arms, their multiple tails merrily swishing behind them like flags in a breeze— as if it was all in a day's work. Moody had been barking orders like it was the only job he ever had. And Dumbledore was a goat.
Still.
And me?
I coughed like a maniac as I crawled out from under a huge pile of rubble with a giant target emblazoned over my head that read, "I'm a ruddy fucktard!"
Clearly, no one had forgotten that it was me that had summoned Hermione in the first place— which (of course) had gotten Snape to come investigate, which had gotten him tortured, which had gotten me all stupidly loose-lipped—
Then Hermione had come to Hogwarts—
Because I just had to announce that she wouldn't be coming because she had loads of N.E.W.T.s to study for—
Which had gotten all the students turned into cats.
And the teachers and staff into mice—
And the school and grounds turned bloody pink—
And—
Well, fuck.
Now—
Well, Umbridge wasn't a problem any longer, but Dumbledore was still a bloody billy goat, so now I had no one left on the staff who was on my side. Every damned time a cauldron blew up, it inevitably happened whenever I was near, and I never failed to be inflicted with whatever side effects resulted from the botch.
Needless to say, every other student refused to sit anywhere near me, most especially in potions class.
Every black cat familiar in the school made it their personal mission in life to trip me up whenever possible, tending to follow that up with clawing my robes to shreds and then using me as a convenient litter box. Smelling to high heaven of cat piss wasn't exactly attractive in any way, shape, or form, so no one wanted to be anywhere near me.
Owls were quick to hock up the foetid remains of their meals on my head as if they were advocating for better treatment for Hedwig.
Even Hedwig was ignoring me in favour of a handsome male snowy owl—
Ron was stubbornly convinced that I had broken a magical mirror somewhere and that being around me would surely curse him too.
Brooms would shoot off without me, or else burst into flames whenever I touched them.
Or inexplicably go into reverse and slam me square in the bollocks, making me cry like a little girl.
Even Malfoy didn't mock me anymore, almost as if he figured I'd ruddy well been punished enough.
I'd gotten a letter from Remus informing me that Hermione and Snape had moved out of Grimmauld, leaving Remus as a caretaker of sorts. It was still the family estate, so it would need tending— especially since Kreacher had chosen to leave with Hermione as the true Black heir.
Remus was more than happy to do so in exchange for not being kicked out and forced to find a new place to live— something that was quite difficult now, even for a no-longer-werewolf. A great many wizarding families had returned to Britain with Voldemort being dealt with once and for all, so decent housing was in exceedingly short supply of late.
He'd accepted a job and would be teaching DADA at Hogwarts starting the next term. Since he could prove he was not a werewolf, the Board of Governors could only eat crow and wonder how they had somehow failed to notice.
Remus was— decidedly— unhappy with me.
I'd endangered our home.
I'd endangered Hermione.
I'd endangered all the students of Hogwarts— and the staff as well.
I could have sent an owl to the Aurors.
But no—
Instead, I'd sent it direct to Hermione, specifically asking her to rescue us, and given Umbridge a way to trace Hedwig to a normally Secret-Kept place—
Out of the many options I had to choose from, I had decided to ask— no, demand—that Hermione be the one to ride into the rescue because I'd seen her save Remus— save the Order. I couldn't be satisfied by that, no.
I wanted her to do more.
Looking back on it— I was an utterly blind and selfish git.
Instead of thanking her for what she had done for me, I'd asked her to do even more. And while I was begging her to save us, giving Umbridge that much more leverage to use against her, Snape had laid down his very life to save her.
And I—
I was still trying to find fault with him.
I was still fighting a wave of revulsion at the very thought of Snape being with Hermione.
Even when I didn't really know Hermione.
Even when I knew even less about Snape.
I wondered what I would say to her when I saw her next.
How could I ever even begin to apologise?
How could I ever begin to atone for what I'd done?
I held my head in my hands and sighed deeply.
I didn't have the faintest clue, and I realised the person I'd always gone for help sorting intellectual things out was the very same person I'd foolishly betrayed.
Well— shite.
Remus was not happy with me.
"I don't believe you, Harry," he said. "How could you be so bloody reckless? You bring your supposed best friend to a site of torture and just expect her to fix everything for you just because that's what you wanted?"
"I—I just wanted the torture to stop! We were all suffering!"
"So, you chose not to bother calling in professional Aurors and instead called in your childhood friend?"
Remus wasn't wrong, damn it. I had been making horrible decisions all throughout my life. But Hermione had always been able to solve our problems, and in my weakness and stupidity, it was the only solution my mind could come up with.
"She always fixes everything! She always got us out of trouble!"
"Well, just because she could does not mean you had any right to bring her there," Remus said with a scowl. "Now, she has even less desire to be in her own home, and I certainly don't blame her."
"She's going to kick us out? But she promised—"
Remus glared at me. "No, she's not kicking us out, but she's not going to be living here anymore. We are now the caretakers of this house, and we are expected to take proper care of it. It is her family's ancestral home. And, Harry—"
I winced at his tone. "Yes?"
"I'm going to recommend that you go in to see a mind-healer at St Mungo's. I think Sirius got to you much more than anyone initially expected, and I think we all need to know just how badly."
"But I'm fine!"
"You think you are, yes."
I could tell that Remus was not going to let up, and as my guardian, he had every right to have me checked out, no matter how much I didn't like the idea.
"Fine," I muttered, realising I really didn't have a choice.
Hermione
I woke up nestled against a very warm and snuggly mate, and I found I was more than okay with that. His tails were, while arguably fewer in number than mine, superiorly warm and fluffy to me, and they might as well have been Kitsune-nip for just how happy they made me.
While each of us had a strangely pink tail tip amongst our number, we had decided it was a badge of courage and sort of a wedding ring for us. A bright, annoyingly coloured, but somewhat reassuring wedding ring that reminded us of how we had come together at last.
We'd pooled our resources and bought ourselves a desolate piece of land in the middle of nowhere that no one wanted and transformed it into an Asian-themed home that sat on a small island surrounded by a rather expansive koi pond. There were sculpted dragons serving as fences and Severus had even made the flooring in the nightingale style, much like Nijō castle in the old Japanese capital of Kyoto.
We'd found the business of making a home for the both of us in honour of our dubious roots and rebirth quite cathartic, and Severus made a laboratory that would make our plan for a mail-order potions business a reality.
I'd enjoyed making the library look like Portugal's bookshop, the Livraria Lello. It wasn't exactly Asian in appearance, but I couldn't resist the need to make a space where reading required a sacred space in itself.
Kreacher seemed to approve of it, and he'd recruited a few more house elves to join us—not because they were bound to us by force, but because they wanted to join us. They brought their families along with them, and there were even some baby elves. Severus and I provided them with ample materials with which to make their own clothes, and a vast network of apartment-like places within the home for them to sequester themselves should they wish to do so.
House elves could make tiny spaces huge on the inside, and it made undetectable extension charms look like the crude work of a nappy-wearing toddler.
From feeding the koi, tending the plants and trees, and making different types of wine and even saki, it seemed the elves were truly happy being able to express themselves with pride.
The land was unplottable, thanks to our registration with the DoM at the Ministry, and we became a sort of hub of relaxation for many of their agents. There was certainly plenty of room, and we had created a sort of bathhouse in the middle of the complex that served as a bed and breakfast, which, of course, attracted more house elves that were all too eager to assist.
The bathhouse grounds were surrounded in orchards of various kinds from the ume plums for pickling, edible non-Sakura cherry trees, regular plums, grape trellises, and other fruit-bearing trees, shrubs, brambles, and vines from all over the world.
As if by magic, a master from Ishikawa Prefecture asked if he could possibly come and cultivate some of the highly-prized Ruby Roman magical-strains of grapes (also known as the fox grape, which we immediately approved of). Master Yamamoto was immediately welcomed to our gardens, and the grapes he grew sold for over two thousand galleons for a bunch—apparently even the non-magical varieties sold for upwards of 1939 galleons, 6 sickles, and 21 knuts.
That was pretty amazing to me.
The "less than perfect" grapes (which all looked the same to my untrained eye" were marked with special ribbons, and Eggplant or those visiting could partake of the special treat. Something, I think, made life worth living after tasting them—
It must have been, because the moment I did, and well he was rubbing my tempting belly, I gave him an even bigger, better grape growing setup that could have only been from his dreams. I sure wouldn't have known how to build it even with a construction blueprint.
Master Yamamoto was in tears, and Severus and I made sure to invite his family to live with us so they could tend the vines they obviously loved so much. It didn't take long before their entire grape-loving family were there on the grounds. His wife also specialised in making pickled plums, so she started a garden of something called Akajiso, some sort of red-leaved shiso leafing plant that gave the plums their distinctive colour when pickling. I didn't get that either, really, as my Japanese was deplorable, but Severus and I were learning!
We were starting to learn a lot about our unexpected legacy through our new allies, but where there was fruit—
Phoenixes were sure to follow.
Fawkes and Callida moved in with their chicks, and it didn't take long after that for each chick to pick out a member of the Yamamoto family to bond with, much to Eggplant's relief. She didn't want to have to fight them all at once for my favour.
What that implied about the Yamamotos' future lifespan, however, remained to be seen.
As our grounds expanded with a bathhouse, hotsprings, ponds, orchards, and library, we also added a shrine to the ancestor fox—it was only fair. Shortly after it was built, an actual fox spirit showed up as if to bless our choices, and it took up residence inside the shrine.
I had to think that was probably the best compliment we could get on our new home.
Severus took the main house for ourselves, becoming a sort of relaxation orchard garden mecca in stride. He found it infinitely better than wrangling "imbecilic heathen children who lived to blow themselves up," and I had to laugh.
And—oddly, the people who came to visit our little slice of Asian paradise pocket dimension seemed to have a bit more in the way of intelligence than the likes of those who blew themselves up over stupid things.
They seemed to truly respect and enjoy having a place that took them out of the stresses of whatever they left behind, and when they left (somewhat reluctantly) they always seemed markedly healthier. And they always came back and bought potions, fruit, crafts, and whatever else the vendors had to offer.
Some of the vendors were not even human. I'd come to expect that after a while. Some were even fellow Kitsune. Some were oni—but there was a neutrality in our place that kept the malicious pranking down to simple mischief. And no one messed with the grape vineyards or the orchards. Not unless they wanted pissed off phoenixes to the face.
Phoenixes did not mess around when it came to defending their fruit orchards.
We didn't ask the vendors to pay us to set up, but they tended their own stalls and kept them meticulously clean and sorted. And at the end of the week, they would always make sure to leave us a share of their spoils or some token of appreciation from their wares. I think—much like those visiting the bathhouse, they truly appreciated a place where they could be—be alive, be respected, be treated like they existed—not as just some myth or story to scare the modern folk.
Severus' business steadily expanded into catering to the supernatural sector, and I think he rather enjoyed the unique challenge.
I didn't visit the old ancestral home much, leaving it to Remus to make it properly his. Harry, of course, was decidedly his problem, and I was glad to be away from it and the memories of Sirius Black.
Harry had been my friend, if one could even call what we had a friendship, so I kept my word about him being able to live with Remus for as long as Remus wished it to be so. I wanted Remus to have a place as his own, and what better way to shove a pike into Sirius memory than by having his old werewolf mate take over the home and make it liveable?
I, however, did not seek out or talk to Harry.
Not after his betrayal.
Not after what I had almost become because of him.
He could live his life, succeed or fail, on his own merit, now.
Well, at least now that all the tendrils of Sirius Black's insidious influence were evicted from his brain.
Thank you, mind-healers.
I still didn't want him near me or Severus or any of those we cared about. Nothing would have gone over better than him visiting our refuge and pissing off an ancient Kitsune spirit, fox spirit, oni, or even a Yamamoto—
Yeah—no.
I had a feeling he had a lot more going on in his head than most, but with Harry it was always so hard to tell exactly why. He'd been abused for most of his life, and that sort of thing always left scars. He'd been suckered by people he trusted, so when he was around those he trusted, he couldn't, wouldn't let go. And he had a two-faced sort of dealing with those like me—saying one moment he appreciated me and was sorry and then flipping like Jekyll and Hyde and doing the most selfish of wanker things to me.
I didn't have time for that, anymore.
I wasn't that desperate for acceptance.
Mam came to visit me often, and during the summer hols, she enjoyed staying in the flat we created for her overlooking the pond. Sometimes she'd just sprawl out, feline loaf or feline splat on the balcony and soak up the sunbeams like it was her job.
Severus said she looked better now than she ever had in all the years he'd known her, and I was glad of it.
I was glad we could be there for people like her.
It was people like her that, much like the kind man with the delicious eggs and saki, that had paved my way into becoming a good-natured Kitsune and not the malevolent spirit of vengeance and hate I could have so easily been.
And then there was Severus—
My ultimate anchor.
My love. My mate. My reason for being content with so many things.
Severus said that while he appreciated having badges of tail courage, he would rather not acquire nine tails as quickly as I had. He was somewhat put off by all the drama that I'd gone through in order to get mine.
I could agree, but not all of my tails had been gained in negativity conquered or some grand monumental battle of wills. At least—I didn't think so. Others seemed to disagree.
No one seemed to care when a pair of black and white Kitsune dashed down the hallways, playfully chasing each other out of sheer happiness at being alive, and when I started craving obscene amounts of natto and rice, raw mackerel and salmon sprinkled with crushed wasabi peanuts, and pickled plums over matcha gelato, and drinking vast amounts of sakura tea, Severus began to suspect that my abdomen was up to something.
The ultimate bit of biological mischief to christen our new home and refuge.
You know you've succeeded in making a good home when your kits don't want to leave for Hogwarts. Even if I'd desperately wanted to go to Hogwarts as a child, but I suppose when you've grown up around so much supernatural normalcy, Hogwarts seems rather—tame.
Kotori and Ayano had been underfoot for a good eleven years now, and it was time for them to learn to respect humanity—or at least respect what humanity had to go through for magic. Their parents had been rather unnatural role models of "normality" in the Wizarding world, so we both wanted them to respect their historical roots, even if they'd never be truly human.
Severus and I had not stopped catering our potions to the Wizarding World, and our contracts globally were pretty crazy, so we never lost sight of what the Wizarding World needed in that regard. All of our visitors from the DoM and other highly vetted places made us a bit of a gossip hub.
Still, as both Kotori and Ayano stood, bags in hand and phoenix chicks on shoulders, they kissed us goodbye and ran for the Hogwarts Express like any child facing a new adventure—even if they didn't think it would be as "cool" as home.
Our children would be ahead of my "generation's" children by a few years, so they'd be safely aged away from any young Longbottoms, Weasleys, Potters, or whatever. I was quite glad of this. Hogwarts was all about drama, and adding in that combination of family names was asking for huge drama that no one wanted. Bill and Fleur's eldest daughter Victoire was of the same group, but at least she wasn't a rampaging arsemonger like Malfoy had been to us from a long time past.
Bill, Fleur, and their children were the only Weasleys on our approved list.
Besides, Victoire and her younger siblings, Dominique and Louis, had visited the bathhouse often with their parents and quite a few goblins, so they were on the approved friend list.
As the train pulled away from the station, Severus and I waved goodbye to our kits, and the sound of our bonded spirit-bells tinkled in approval of them reaching this milestone. Severus pressed his face into my curls and breathed in my scent, wrapping his arms around me, our invisible tails wrapped around each other in a comforting embrace.
Eggplant dutifully followed the Hogwarts Express as if to keep them company on their journey, and I had to smile at her streak of dark aubergine feathers. She'd become a fine young phoenix, and she'd learned more proper language than profanity, which was quite a relief in many ways—I didn't want my kits learning how to swear fluently in five languages before they were five. I knew she'd return home when they were safely at Hogwarts, tucked into the House of their destiny—whichever one that might be.
As with most Kitsune kits, traits were as fluid as the situation, so what they sorted as could be anything. I found I didn't mind. I had no attachment to them being one house or another other than I wanted them to grow up safely and respect each other.
"Are you ready to go home, my love?" Severus rumbled into my ear. My ear flicked and bopped him on the nose as if to say "well, yeah!".
Severus chuckled as our spirit bells tinged together. "I love you," he said, and I felt a warmth spread through me every time he did. It never got old.
"I love you, too," I replied, my eyes filling with love for my mate.
Fawkes had informed us that Kitsune pairs generally had kits every few hundred to a thousand years, and I found I could live with that with our strangely vast lifespan. The world didn't need to be dripping with Kitsune mischief quite so fast, especially with our fervent love-making sessions of tail kinking, mind-blowing, tail poofing perfection.
That didn't mean we stopped, ahem, practising.
I kissed him tenderly on the mouth as my hand wrapped around his.
Crack!
Off we went for another adventure!
YIP!
And they lived Kitsune-ically ever after. YIP!
A/N: Phew , another one finished. Hooray!
