A/N: This story is part of a series of shorts where I just throw them all together when I need to write something but my brain is going AHHAHAHAHAAHHEHEHEHEHHEE and yeets itself off a mental cliff into the great beyond. I expect they will all be super random. Each chapter is a stand-alone story, drabble, or as short a story as Corvus ever does.
Beta Love: Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01
Whoop, There It Is
Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive!
Sir Walter Scott
(from Marmion: A Tale of Flodden Field)
"Potter," Snape greeted scornfully. "To what do I owe this displeasure?"
"I need your help," Harry said, squirming a bit.
"You need my help," Snape repeated with a growing sneer. "Do you need me to wipe your nose? Do you need me to pull Weasley out of some other witch's quim so he can wipe your nose?"
Harry turned beetroot red, looking like he was about to punch Snape directly in the face.
"Go ahead, Auror Potter," Snape snarled, his voice practically dripping with scorn. "Prove to me that you are just as fucked up as everyone else in this sodding world."
"Look," Harry said, gritting his teeth. "I really need your help. Ginny is dying."
"Woe," Snape snorted, his black eyes smouldering. "Why should I even care what happens to you or anyone that you care about, Potter? After what you did?"
"This has nothing to do with that," Harry protested loudly. "Besides, they were meant!"
"Meant to what? Burn down a house together? Do you even see what your meddling did? Your sharing of memories you had NO right to share, designed to drive the witch into the arms of a gormless imbecile who can't even control where he puts his own bloody cock."
Severus' fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. "And where is this supposedly "meant" couple now, Potter? Where is this glowing marriage of meant-to-be?"
"Sweden," Harry said with a grimace. "She went to Sweden."
"Sweden," Snape said in a voice far too quiet to mean anything remotely good. "The one country in the entire magical world that actually respects the privacy of their magical people."
"Everyone knew they were meant to be," Harry insisted stubbornly. "They kissed. It was a done deal."
"And I'm sure you're enjoying all the child support you are paying to every witch you've ever kissed, Potter." Snape snarled at him. "And I'm quite SURE you recall all those deep-throated kisses Weasley shared with a certain Miss Brown long before that."
Harry just shook his head. "Molly said—"
"Molly," Snape said through gritted teeth. "You fucked up my engagement to the one witch who actually gave a shite about me because of the delusions of Molly fucking Weasley? I had to watch her in floods of tears as she extricated herself from our life and ran off to some place where none of my words would reach her—nothing I could say could convince her that I wasn't still in love with your mother?"
"Ginny is dying!" Harry insisted.
"I. Don't. Care," Severus answered coldly. "Everything I ever wanted you destroyed. You. Can. Rot."
"I altered the memories!" Harry blurted suddenly. "I had to make it look convincing!"
Severus' expression was stone. "Goodbye, Mr Potter. Enjoy the time you have left with the love of your life."
"I made it look like you swore to love my mum always, that there could never be anyone else!" Harry said. "If you need to punish someone, punish ME, not Ginny! Please, save Ginny!"
"Din jävla skitstöve!" Hermione seethed, punching Harry in the face so hard he went tumbling arse over tit into the far tree. "Du ger alla så mycket glädje när du lämnar rummet!"
Hermione's hair was writhing like a nest of vipers as her form suddenly changed. Her body jerked, twisted. Her face pushed out into a muzzle as a coat of spotted and striped fur moved across her body, and she let out a disturbingly loud hyena whooooop.
Her teeth gnashed together, and she slammed herself into Harry, her claws piercing holes in his robes as her frothy muzzle snapped shut but a fraction of an inch from his horrified face.
"Varför går du inte och hoppar i lava eller bli uppäten av en haj!"
Hermione let out a low rumbling animalistic heckling sort of chuckle—the very soul of it blatant mockery.
"I'm sorry!" Harry cried. "I'm sorry! I truly believed you and Ron were meant, and I knew you wouldn't leave Snape unless you had a bloody good reason!"
"Ag älskade honom med hela min själ, och du var bara tvungen att blanda dig i," Hermione seethed. "Det som är rättvist är rättvist."
Hermione jerked Harry closer to her, her claws digging into his skin through his robes and leather. Her very clean, pristine white, and super sharp teeth were exposed in a very, very unmistakeable threat.
"There can only be one queen amongst a cackle, Harry Potter," Hermione informed him, her eyes glowing an unearthly radiant amber. "And with every single witch Ronald plunged his unfaithful cock into, certain instincts came a calling, and I realised that I had to leave him, lest I do what millions of years worth of hyena evolution demanded of me. I would have torn him to pieces, Harry. Bloody, screaming, sterile pieces. And since you took away the one wizard I truly wanted—I took away what you truly wanted."
Hermione let out a loud whuuuup!
"Your. Perfect. Family."
Hermione's glowing eyes smouldered like embers in a fire. "Don't think I didn't notice after my emotional turmoil went from pain to rage that Lily Evans said something Ginny told me once—a small phrase. Something I had never heard before, being a Muggleborn and all. 'Love's kiss mates the magic.'"
"Your mother would never have used that exact phrase. Lily Evans, like me, came from the Muggle world. And, after doing a little research, and you know just how much I adore research—I discovered it wasn't a Wizarding phrase at all. It was a family motto. Passed down from the Prewett maternal line—passed down from mother to daughter to help them ensnare their perfect mate—whether they knew it or not. So, Harry, did she use that line on you? The trigger words for ensnarement?"
"W-hat?"
Hermione's expression was feral. "Oh, now that's rich. You had no idea, did you? Try to think a little, go back. When Ginny pulled you into that broom closet. Each time, she said those words. Each time, you felt more and more like she was—the only one that mattered. Thing is—it only works on full humans. I never suspected because it never worked on me. Until one day— a little birdie told me 'Snape can never love you, he was in love with my mum,' right? But I didn't believe you and so you fed me that vial of rotting tampered memories—"
"And while I was convalescing in Sweden learning things like how to deal with a broken heart, how to forget about a wizard that could never love me, how not to rip every female around me to shreds for even looking at me without permission, gaining about five masteries out of spite—I'm sure she was doing her best to get pregnant, wasn't she, Harry? Because pregnancy seals the magic no matter how shady the conception might be. Isn't that right, Harry? And I'm sure the first child you had, second if you were really busy—they were all boys, weren't they, Harry? Boys to ensure the Weasley line continued on. Two at minimum if not more before a girl is even possible because normally, if one dies the other remains alive to carry on. Unless you're in a war and get murdered together. Then well, I'd imagine the female that was left the line had some males to produce to ensure that Prewett gene pool never died—and since she needed a girl child to teach the family spell, Molly had to keep on having children until she finally got lucky."
Hermione tapped a dark claw against Harry's nose, drawing a bead or two of blood. "So when Ronald tried to come visit me in Sweden, I was ready for him. I reflected that spell right back at Ronald and let it travel down the entire Prewett family line to every single member who had ever used the words with intent to ensnare their mate of choice. And all those that have will wither and die—unless they confess in public. To say—the Minister for Magic. Simple. So, Harry, tell me, are you going to toddle on home and convince the love of your life that she needs to confess or are you going to let her wither and rot? It's your choice now. Because even if Ginevra survives—you'll still be married to a manipulative liar who ensorcelled you right into her knickers. If you had kids, you're going to have to look at them every day and remember that what you created was based on a lie. That your kids will probably grow up unstable and possibly downright psychopathic thanks to being born into a magical union where the love was a lie. Normally, I suppose, I would pity you. Try to help you even. But those days are long gone. You lost any right to pity or help when you lied to my face to sabotage my engagement so I would go crying off to marry your wanker of a best mate who, I understand, has fathered at least twenty children at last count between all those suckers who dropped their knickers for him. Those sneaky Prewett genes again. And all of them bore sons."
Hermione's expression was dark and feral. "Amongst my kind, sons are worthless save for their cock to make more hyenas. Traditionally, at least. The laws are still there that say I have the right to eat you—or feed you to my pups. Fortunately, we are evolving a bit. Those like my parents and myself can appreciate a talented male as an equal. A partner—but the old laws are still there. The law of the jungle, as it were, or perhaps a bit more accurately, law of the savannah. Since I cannot banish you alone to be torn to pieces by lions, I suppose I will let you go to decide the fate of your beloved Ginevra. Tick tock, tick tock, Harry. The withering curse will only continue to get worse the longer the truth is withheld."
Hermione let out a hyena whoop—a sound that instantly made Harry wet his trousers despite himself. "Run away, little boy," she said, her lips pulling back from her teeth. She shoved him away with a droning nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnyyyp!
Harry staggered dazedly away, falling hard on his arse. He scrambled in the mud and brush as he struggled to get a grip on his wand.
Crack!
His eyebrows and half of his hair fluttered lazily to the ground in his wake.
"You—are a hyena," Severus said in a bare whisper.
"Technically a were-hyena, but—" Hermione sighed. "We're not affected by the full moon like werewolves are. Werewolves are cursed. We are born or—mated into it. I have a feeling we're how people came up with gnolls in stories. People eaters. Anything eaters—"
"Your parents?"
"Born and raised were-hyenas," Hermione said grimly. "Mum was a bit of a rebel because she liked dad enough to be faithful and treated him as an equal. I guess it rubbed off on me—well, sort of. I fear I had a bit of a relapse into the primordial need to tear off the testicles of various males recently."
"Strangely—understandable," Severus allowed, passing her a perfectly brewed cup of tea—the most British way to deal with any problem.
Hermione sipped the tea. "I was trying to figure out a way to tell you before—"
"Potter."
"Yeah." Hermione stared into her tea cup. "I trusted him. Ron, I would have told him where to go if he'd ever said anything like that. But Harry—He had the memories and everything. And I was so broken after that, I didn't even know how to cope with it all. He knew exactly what to say—what to show me—to get me to stop thinking."
"Sweden?"
"Most private place to brood and have a complete emotional breakdown," Hermione said with a sigh. "I wasn't in the mood to get into a dominance fight with my parents' cackle, and I was definitely not going to muscle in on another one somewhere. I'd have to kill the old queen, and I'd seen more than enough death in the war. I didn't want a mateֶ—well, I didn't want anyone but you. So, since I couldn't have you, everyone else could just fuck right off."
"Your vernacular has definitely changed—significantly since last I saw you," Severus said with a raised brow.
"I do have some lingering anger issues," Hermione admitted, flushing slightly.
"It's rather—sexy," Severus said, a touch of awkward hanging about his eyebrows like weights.
Hermione blinked.
"The prim and proper Gryffindor princess revealed to be a potty-mouthed hyena," Severus said, lips quirking up a bit at the corners. "I find the mental image of you ripping the Weasley tosser to bloody screaming shreds quite—" He coughed slightly. "Stimulating."
Hermione raised her head and stared at him.
"So what really happened to the Snatchers that tracked you down in the woods?"
Hermione was silent for a minute. "I ate them. It's how there was enough food for Harry and Ron. I—fed myself."
"And they never knew?"
Hermione shook her head.
"How did you get caught?"
"I couldn't shift in front of Ron and Harry, so I was caught along with them. And Bellatrix—was never alone when she tortured me. I think someone was forced to be with her at all times just in case—she got a little too excited."
Severus was silent. "I am all too aware of her proclivities," he said. "I was often given to her if my performance was considered to be not—satisfactory. She made sure to let me know just how much and then some. And I was not the only one."
Hermione set her cup down. "I am sorry I didn't listen to you," she said֫. "I will live with the shame of it the rest of my life." She got up and moved to leave.
It all ends in tragedy. They both die in sorrow. The end is bad. No one lives.
"I still love you," Severus said hoarsely.
Hermione closed her eyes. "I love you too. I always have."
She stepped closer to the door.
"Don't go," Severus said softly. "Don't let him win. Don't let them win."
Hermione grimaced. "I left you without even giving you a chance to explain. You don't forgive that. And I'm a were-hyena. No one wants that in their life."
"I'd forgive them if it was you," Severus said, standing abruptly. "And I find the latter to be rather—hot."
He closed the distance to her. They stood so close, almost touching yet not.
Hermione's lips parted slightly, a soft, low chuckle escaping her throat—a sign of nervousness. Stress. Anxiety. All the above.
"I want you," Snape confessed, his impossibly dark eyes locking with hers. "Nothing has changed but—a profound and growing desire to punch Potter square in the bollocks."
Hermione whispered into his ear. "If you did that as a were-hyena, Harry would end up with balls the size of Quaffles and wouldn't be able to walk for months."
"You say the sexiest things," Severus rumbled lowly. "Where do I sign up?"
"You—" Hermione licked her lips nervously. "You still—"
"Indeed."
Hermione, suddenly shy, blinked a few times in rapid succession. "I, um," she started to say. "When I—"
"Yessss?"
His lips were so very close to hers.
"When I—orgasm I become—infectious," she mumbled, her voice barely understandable.
His lips brushed against hers. "As in bite or any body fluid?" he asked.
"Any body fluid at all," Hermione replied in a bare whisper. "Theoretically—hypothetically. I haven't exactly had a mate to test it with—"
"So you're saying I should have simply thrown all propriety to the wind and gone down on you like a savage animal to have prevented all of this unnecessary—drama?" His tongue slid over the seam of her lips,teasing her gently. "Should I reset my ring upon your finger or just take you here on the settee?"
"Fuck," Hermione gasped as his tongue invaded her mouth, and she welcomed it heatedly, her hips grinding against him with unmistakeable desire.
"Fuck—what, Her. Mi. O. Ne?"
"Fuck me right now!" she hissed, her mouth sealing against his with a groan as they both fell upon the settee with an audible thump as the tearing of clothes came shortly after—buttons flying, plinking across the floor where had escaped.
"My dirty little hyena," Severus groaned as he slid inside her. His thrusts were eager as were his hands as he worshipped her body. "I could never be with anyone but you," he groaned as he built up into a frenzy, their tongues battling even as he thrust strongly and his free hand massaged her highly erect nipple with interest. "And if I have to turn into a rampaging giant hyena and punch Potter's bollocks until they burst out his arse in order to prove my devotion, then I will gladly fuck you into the furniture until neither of us can move to ensure I Turn."
Hermione whimpered under him, her body arching, her hands clawing on his back, dark black claws pushing out from her fingertips as she drew blood from his pale skin, but even as she did, it healed almost immediately as a dark coat of fur began to spread down his back.
Hermione let out a loud whooooooooop as she climaxed, her body clamping down on him as her teeth bared and she chomped on his neck and shoulder, her body wracked with spasms as he emptied himself inside her.
The people living in his neighbourhood may or may not have wondered why their normally quiet neighbour was apparently watching African documentaries with the telly cranked up full blast—all night long.
They might have been too frightened to call him out on it, though.
When the sun rose the next morning, two highly sated giant were-hyenas lay curled up on Severus' bed, the linens tucked around them in a sort of makeshift nest. Their fur was utterly rumpled, their muzzles a bit foamy, and the female may or may not have been one hundred percent pregnant.
If anyone had bothered to look, they might have noticed that the Prince family ring adorned one paw-toe with magical permanence.
Rare Withering Sickness Strikes Wizarding Prewett Family Line
Withering Plague Seems Strangely Restricted to Prewett-Weasley Lines, Healers Baffled
Arthur Weasley Seen Storming Out of St Mungos Yelling "I Can't Believe You Would Use Magic To Ensnare Me!"
Multiple Deaths in Weasley-Prewett Family On Same Day
Victims Die Alone With No Visitors!
Harry Potter's Wife, Former Ginevra Weasley,
Expires of Wasting Disease at Mungos
Dies Alone and Clearly Unmourned
SHOCKER: Harry Potter Spotted Entering St Mungos
Sporting Quaffle-Sized Bollocks, Flatly Refuses Interview
Hermione yawned while soaking up the shade as the daytime sun baked down upon the savannah. Her playful cubs tussled and played under the Whomping Willow, well protected by the infamous tree's fanatical hatred of most things living—but most importantly the predatory lions whose hatred of anything hyena was well known.
They had made themselves a home both within and under the tree, taking advantage of the magical cocoon that hid the home for their human forms and the burrows underneath where their cubs liked to play.
It would be a few years before they were fully weaned and able to maintain a human form, so the protection of the willow was vital. Fortunately for them, however, their parents were not subject to the same problems natural hyenas had when the savannah's cycle switched from plenty to drought. They would never have to go hungry or thirsty whenever the rains stopped.
With a little magical terraforming, they'd created a spring within the willow which made the tree ecstatically happy along with their hyena caretakers who liked being able to wash and not worry about being assaulted by crocodiles to the face.
Or angry hippos.
No one in the savannah liked being around hippos. The massive animals were way too cranky. Much like the cape buffalo.
However—
One big advantage to living in a friendly Whomping Willow was that sometimes they woke up to a freshly bludgeoned breakfast. Those very same cranky cape buffalo and occasional hippos that were apparently too oblivious to their being within whomping range of a giant, angry tree.
What they were doing so far away from large bodies of water, however, was anyone's guess. Drought made for pretty strange times.
Hermione supposed it was normal for the natural animals to go a bit bonkers when water and food were scarce. They didn't have the advantage of travelling by magic or having things delivered by vulture post.
She had to admit that they had some really spoiled Rüppell's vultures living with them. While they normally formed colonies on cliff faces, theirs seemed perfectly happy to be cohabitating with them in, on, and around the willow. And, since they were approved by them, the willow was seemingly okay with them too.
Somehow it knew the difference between them and other birds.
Willows were kind of amazing, and she kinda wished she'd researched them a bit more in school—not that the Wizarding World really had much out there other than "see entry: cranky, violent, abusive."
Much like the willow, vultures and hyenas shared lives in the natural world—not exactly as friends, but thanks to the magical element with a little were-hyena thrown in, life was getting pretty good for them all as a team.
Since they were also human, they could at least stop vacuuming up all the meat and bones and leave some for the vultures. They could also pack and preserve a carcass for later, which the typical wild hyena could not.
Severus had settled into life as a were-hyena like—well, like a hyena on a fresh carcass. He made her so proud to have such a strong and healthy mate. They had a potions side-hustle, as the Muggles would have called it, and plenty of customers to keep their post vultures very busy earning their carrion.
He tripped all of her happy buttons, and she really enjoyed unfastening his.
Often.
It was getting easier and easier to forget just how horrible it had been getting to this point of bliss—though it helped that Severus had kept his promise and punched Harry straight to the bollocks so hard he'd slammed into a tree.
That earned Severus an extra special snog.
And neither of them had to go to Azkaban.
Victory.
Kingsley, of course, knew the whole story. So did Amelia Bones in the DoM. They were probably the only registered magical were-hyenas on record. Occasionally, Amelia would have a special assignment for them that required a little touch of the hyena—and by that she meant taking out some Dark wizard or witch by any means possible.
And much like when she'd dealt with the Snatchers in the Forest of Dean—no one returned back to Britain to tell the tale. Only this time, it was legally sanctioned, and she got paid very well for it too.
Severus flopped down next to her and chew-groomed her ears and neck, and Hermione rumble-purr-growled in pleasure before giving him some mutual attention. The cubs had retreated into the underground burrows to sleep where it was considerably cooler, and that meant they could relax and enjoy a little alone time. It would be a while yet before they had to worry about their cubs going off to school, and she was okay with that.
And even when they did, they wouldn't have to worry about them sharing the same year groups as certain Weasleys, Potters, or whoever else.
Severus let it be known that he was very happy to see her, and in a soft crack, they'd apparated into the depths of the tree and shifted forms for a little relaxation of another kind.
Whhhhhhoooooooop!
Heckle. Heckle. Heckle.
WHOOOOOOOOP!
Far far away in Britain, Harry Potter awoke in piss-soaked boxers, screaming his head off over his latest nightmare of being stalked by a bunch of hungry-looking hyenas.
Fin.
A/N: Thank you for flying with Corvus Brain Airlines. You're welcome!
The Swedish for those of you that don't happen to know Swedish:
Varför går du inte och hoppar i lava eller bli uppäten av en haj?
(Why don't you go jump in lava or get eaten by a shark?)
Din jävla idiot/skitstövel/nolla!
(You fucking wanker!)
Du ger alla så mycket glädje när du lämnar rummet.
(You give everyone so much joy when you leave the room.)
Jag älskade honom med hela min själ, och du var bara tvungen att blanda dig i.
(I loved him with all of my soul, and you just had to meddle. Well, I meddled with you.)
Det som är rättvist är rättvist.
(What's fair is fair.)