Summary: SSHG, Ron wants a happy Christmas, and he's bloody tired of waiting.
Written for SSHG Prompt Fest 2023
Beta Abuse: Dragon and the Rampaging Feline Zoomies, Dutchgirl01 the Chronically Overworked, Commander Shepard Dreams of a Giant Flat Screen Gamer TV
Ain't Gettin' Nuttin' For Christmas
The Boogeyman is your conscience. The Boogeyman is the result of your own bad behaviour. I love this Boogeyman.
Sergio Aragones
The wailing sirens were the first thing Hermione heard as she struggled her way to wakefulness, but she just snuggled closer to Severus. The hoarfrost generated by a group of nearby Dementors had made the Australian heat in the house bearable, and no one was complaining.
She liked sleeping under a nice fluffy duvet, and nothing put a damper on that more than oppressive heat and humidity.
While she had worried that her parents' memories couldn't be restored, Severus had agreed to help. She hadn't expected to fall for him in the process, but she wasn't exactly complaining.
He wasn't complaining, either, which was rather amazing to her. He treated her so carefully, and when he made love to her, it was like he was imprinting every sensory input he could upon her from how she felt to her scent to the pleasured sounds she made when he moved over her.
It made her wonder who he'd lost or what trauma had gone on in his life that made him so reverent with her. He didn't really talk much about his past, and she was hardly about to take Harry Potter's word as gospel when it came to a man he'd utterly loathed for the greater part of his life.
He'd tell her when he was ready, and that was okay with her. She was a bit sad that he felt he couldn't tell her at the moment, but—they both had certain things that still haunted them even after the war was over.
There were times that he looked at her with something akin to hunger, but he would take her into his arms and embrace her a little more attentively. She didn't mind it. She felt safe in his arms. Safe with him.
He was entirely different from the man who had taught her at Hogwarts, and that was good for her brain, who treated that mess of emotional turmoil with an entirely different bar of lava soap.
He was tentative and tender, unsure but wanting. And it had been so easy to fall for this different Severus Snape. And his staunch defence of her to her parents had caused her mother to blurt out that her baby was getting married.
He hasn't even proposed, but her parents thinking it was a done deal sure helped the admissions of care later—
And some really good explorations of bodily pleasure that had nothing to do with a wet sloppy un-kiss from Ronald during the war.
She was glad her quest to cure her parents took her away from that mess.
And they had a nice home in Australia that was far enough away to satisfy Severus' distaste for noisy nosy neighbours but apparently close enough for emergency vehicles…
She snuggled deeper into Severus' embrace not wanting to human, adult, Muggle, or cope.
"You're insufferable," he murmured into her hair.
She mrred and did her best buried tick impression.
"Whatever shall I do with you?"
Hermione started to nibble on his neck and he hissed sharply as he pulled her tighter against him. "We will never leave this bed if you keep that up."
"I could live with that," she mumbled.
"How magnanimous of you."
Unfortunately, there was a hard knock on the door.
"That sounds rather official," Severus said with clear disappointment.
Hermione sighed and dragged out of the bed, stirring Walter awake and putting him on to answer the door.
Walter was a useful companion in Australia for his tendency to eat vermin and poisonous neighbours like inland taipans. They hadn't had to worry about mice at all, and somehow he knew to leave the native rats alone and just eat the invasives. Any and all invasives.
Lethifolds… who knew?
As Severus made his way to the door after throwing on the non-Lethifold cloak, he realised the police had arrived.
"May we help you?" Hermione asked.
"There has been an incident on the far end of your property ma'am," the official said. "A bunya pine dropped a pinecone on a man dressed in a bathrobe and carrying a twig in his hand. Could you, if you don't mind, see if you might know him?"
Hermione shot a look at Severus and they nodded together. "Of course. Anything we can do to help."
They trekked out a bit to the edge of the property, where flashing lights and cars were circling (far from) the grove of Bunya pines that had come with the property. They'd been planted over a hundred years previously, and it was, apparently, drop season—something that happened every few years provided your trees were at least a hundred years old.
Hermione and Severus had taken to harvesting the cones for their large edible nuts, but they knew better than to stand under one of the trees during drop season, instead using magic to gather the 11kg giant watermelon-sized cones from the ground without getting a pinecone to the head.
Some of the officials were wearing hard hats as they tended the victim that was already on the stretcher.
It wasn't hard to see the red-orange mop of hair, even with the bloodied cranial wound.
"Your neighbour said she was walking her dog and saw someone out there skulking around the pines. She tried to warn him that they were Bunya pines and it was dropping season, but he didn't seem to respond. She told him to get out from under the trees, but he just waved her off. She went on her way, but she heard a thump and crack, and he was just lying there, not moving. She didn't want to go toward him because of the pinecones, so she went back to her house since the mobile didn't quite cover this area. By the time we arrived, he was dead. Do you know him?"
"I went to school with him," Hermione said quietly. "Private school in the UK. Haven't seen him since we moved out here, and I wasn't even aware that he knew where I lived."
"He had a card on him. Looks like some Auror organisation. Some cosplay thing pretending to be detectives or something?"
"He was very interested in law enforcement," Hermione said. "But he was always more interested in sports and food when I knew him."
She handed the inspector a card. "This is my contact from the UK if you have any questions about Ron or his family. I don't keep up, but he does."
"Kingsley Shacklebolt?"
"Yes," Hermione said. "I fear I haven't been very in the know since I moved out here."
"Peaceful out here," the inspector said.
Hermione nodded. "Usually."
"Were you expecting him?"
"No, not at all. A few people knew I was out here to visit my parents," Hermione said, "and Severus and I decided we rather like it out here. 'Cept for the funnel webs."
The man chuckled. "No one likes those things. I'll check if there was some sort of Sherlock con going on, but would it be normal for him to just pop in without saying anything first?"
"Yes, he was never one for preplanning. He'd just show up out of the blue and eat my food," Hermione said wryly.
"Do you mind if we take a few of these pinecones as examples for our forensics?"
"Feel free. Take some extra if you'd like to roast them. They are very tasty," Hermione recommended. "They make for an interesting Christmas food. Hazard chestnuts."
The inspector chuckled and nodded. "'Preciate it, ma'am."
"I fear we have no phone here," Hermione said apologetically. "They planned to set up a landline, but they haven't gotten out here yet, and mobile reception is rubbish."
The inspector nodded. "Could always use a bullroarer," he suggested with a smile.
Hermione chuckled. "I don't quite have the coordination yet, but give me time to figure it out."
"We may have to contact you again if there are questions—"
"That would be fine, Inspector," Hermione said. "However, when it comes to the mind of my classmate, I fear there is not much I ever truly knew about him other than his appetite and love of sports."
"Anyone else I could contact that would know more about him?"
"Harry Potter," Hermione said. "Also contactable via that number I gave you."
"Is it possible he found you through this Kingsley Shacklebolt?"
Hermione shook her head. "No," she said. "He knew I was here dealing with my parents, and he's not one to tell others my business unless it's official, and I highly doubt he was here on any sort of official business."
"Here is my card," the Inspector said. "I know you don't have a phone yet, but if you think of something, could you write it down and bring it to me when you can?"
Hermione nodded. "We go to town once a week to stock up on supplies."
"Thank you," he said. "Is it possible he was here to do you harm?"
Hermione frowned. "It is possible, I suppose, but— he's always been more of a bone to pick sort than an inclined to do violence to me sort. However—" she looked at Severus.
"Mr Weasley was not one who had kind feelings toward me," Severus said grimly.
"Reason?"
"I used to teach him, and he would far rather play silly buggers and avoid being taught," Severus said.
"Ah," the inspector said. "You would have hated me as a teenager. I didn't figure myself out until I was in my twenties."
"At least you did eventually," Severus said dryly. "Many don't."
"Fair point," the inspector agreed. "Thank you for your time. I would ask that you not tromp around out here until all the photos and evidence have been collected."
Hermione tilted her head. "The other grove further down?"
"That should be fine."
Hermione nodded. "We have some local aboriginal groups coming round to harvest the pinecones, so I will let them know to leave this area alone until you are finished."
"Thank you, ma'am. Sorry to bother you this morning."
"Sorry, you had to come out this way. It's normally quite peaceful here. At least until I find a Sydney funnel-web in my shower."
The inspector snorted. "You and my wife would probably be best friends."
Severus and Hermione walked back toward the house and sent out a quick Patronus to Kingsley the moment they got inside.
"Weasley," Severus snarled, rubbing the space between his eyes with two fingers.
Hermione groaned. "There is going to be a lot of Obliviation and cleanup going on around here," she predicted. "Amelia is going to have a seething horde of batlings."
"She's had plenty already. Nobody wants that," Severus muttered.
Hermione sighed. "I wonder if Molly even knew he was out here?"
"I suppose we'll find out when the UK explodes in flames."
Hermione grimaced. "Her Howlers were horrible enough one at a time. Do you think she sent him out here to come after me for some cockamamie reason like our supposedly being meant?"
Severus narrowed his eyes. "Hard to say with Molly. I'm not convinced she knows what the term actually means. She would simply rather see her sons with those she thinks would give them the best life, regardless of what they might think about it."
It didn't take long for Kingsley and Amelia Bones to show up through their Floo, and they arrived with the typical team of "explainers/Obliviators" that inevitably came along with Muggle entanglements. Harry came too, much to Severus' consternation, but there was nothing quite like having all of your deepest secrets blurted out to the enemy while you were technically still alive to make your "dying sacrifice" seem utterly contradictory and humiliating.
The fact Harry exposed to the world that Snape had "loved his mother" right under Voldemort's nose did pretty much what you might expect. It was part of what had taken Hermione's falling for him and him actually desiring her in return such a hard thing to fathom—at first. For—all of that time before they had that first heated snog that descended into a kind of intimacy she hadn't ever known she could have in her life.
Sensing her thought train, Severus pulled her close to him, and Walter did a burrito move that entailed him wrapping both of them up in a sort of standing swaddle that basically said "you two need some time together; here, let me help."
It made Harry visibly uncomfortable, and Hermione had to admit that it made her very happy to see it. Served him right for all the horrid conversations he'd inflicted on her with Ron in that Merlin-forsaken tent in the middle of the woods.
But one member of their one-time trio was most definitely not going to come back for a second go, and the frown on Harry's face was a mixture of sadness and disbelief.
"He said that Molly had wanted him to settle down and start building a real family, and he said he had a plan, but—"
Harry's resignation hung about him as his eyes closed. "I didn't think he'd go looking for you. I thought he'd just wait for you to come back to the UK."
"Did he even say what he planned?"
"Just that he wanted to see you immediately—" Harry groaned. "Oh, no. Hermione I told him you were in Australia visiting your parents. He said he'd take care of it, but I didn't think—I really didn't—"
Everyone in the room took their turn, scowling at Harry simultaneously.
"I thought he just meant he'd talk to you when you got back," Harry explained. "I thought—when he said he'd take care of it that he'd send you an owl or something."
"We're going to have to crack down harder on your Auror training, Potter," Amelia snapped. "Especially the lessons on when to keep your trap shut. I'm going to speak with Savage and have you studying all the cases where some Auror said the wrong thing and got someone killed, hurt, or otherwise attacked."
Harry grimaced. "Yes, ma'am."
The Oblivators trudged out of the front door to their targets, all of them shaking their heads at Harry like he was an unmitigated disaster.
"This is going to make for a pretty awful Christmas for the Weasleys," Amelia said, shaking her head. "And for the whole of Britain dealing with Molly, I'm sure."
Severus wrinkled his nose. "Have Potter deal with it. He surely needs the practice."
Amelia shot Harry a distinctly unfriendly look. "I don't think I trust him not to dress himself at this point."
Harry grimaced but wisely shut his gob before he got himself into even more trouble—something made infinitely harder as he kept seeing Snape touching Hermione in comforting gestures. Something she returned with an ease she'd never had while travelling with him and Ron.
"I thought you came out here to help your parents!" Harry finally blurted.
"We did," Hermione said, arching a brow. "Your point?"
"Why are you still here? Why are you all chummy with Snape?"
"One, we live here," Hermione said coolly. "I'm closer to my parents, and it's nice and isolated from the continuous drama that is Wizarding Britain. Two, Severus was gracious enough to help me with the intricacies of restoring my parents' memories, which no one else even thought to ask, I'll have you know. Everyone was too busy trying to put their own lives back together to spare a thought about the Muggle parents I had to Obliviate to keep them out of danger. Boohoo. Not as significant as Fred dying. Not as important as Teddy being orphaned. Not as great as so many other things. So we started a business together. And I do side work for the DoM, and YOU, Harry Potter, have no say whatsoever on who the hell I chose to be with when HE was here holding me when I was crying over my parents while no one else gave a ruddy damn!"
Harry had the expression of a swimmer suddenly confronted with a Megalodon to the face.
The Dementors, attracted to Hermione's distress, floated over. The largest one wrapped her in an embrace, and it syphoned some of her spiking magic and emotions before she blew out the front of her own house with Harry's body.
Hermione wilted. "Thanks, Grandfather."
The Dementor caressed her cheek with a gnarled hand, and then floated off to some other room.
Harry's brain did a few stalls, descended past his aeroplane's glide slope, and crash-landed somewhere north by northeast of his brain's landing strip in flames.
Grandfather returned after a minute with trays of lemonade and biscuits, and Amelia and Kingsley gratefully accepted his offerings with gratitude for both the refreshments and the cool air the Dementor was providing. The Dementor set down the tray on the table and floated off again.
"What the hell is going on here?" Harry cried.
Hermione sighed. "I fear you don't have a clearance level high enough to know."
Harry woke to find himself lying on a makeshift cot near a glimmering, snow-covered Christmas tree in the middle of the room. It was gently snowing inside in a confined bubble around the tree, and glowing snow fairy lights and real icicles glistened from the branches.
A Dementor was placing a silvery star on top of the Christmas tree, one finger touching the point to make it glow brilliantly before it floated off to another room. Another donned only a Santa hat over the wispy, funeral curtain-like robes, iced a plate of gingerbread men biscuits and placed them on a small table beside the fireplace that burned with a strangely cooling blue fire. The Dementor poked small gumdrop buttons onto the biscuit men and floated off to tend to other chores.
Amelia and Kingsley came out of separate rooms, stretching and yawning as they smoothed out their green and red fluffy dressing gowns, each looking like they'd had the best sleep of their lives.
"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas," Kingsley sang with a chuckle. "It smells absolutely wonderful in here."
Harry suddenly realised what had awoken him was actually the scent of warm cinnamon and sugar baking. His eyes widened as a Dementor took a pan of cinnamon pecan sticky buns out of the oven, Grandfather whipped up a full English, another Dementor prepared a pot of breakfast tea, and another covered the table with a deep green cloth and set it with festive holiday china and silverware.
"I may just have to stay here an extra week and let someone else worry about Britain for a while," Kingsley said with an appreciative sigh.
"I've already called in all the holiday time I haven't taken in the last few decades," Amelia said with a satisfied smile. "I told Manfred he's allowed to eat anyone who steps out of line while I'm gone. It's amazing how well people behave that way."
A Howler zoomed through the owl-delivery window hatch, and before it could even deliver the message, a waiting Dementor promptly attached a 11 kg pinecone to the Howler, slapped a temporary levitation spell on it, gave the owl a hefty tip in the form of a fat lizard, and sent it back on its way.
Kingsley arched a brow. "Will the author of said Howler survive the return post?"
Amelia just shrugged. "They sent it. If they knowingly sent a Howler to this residence, then they deserve what they get."
"What's going on?" Harry groaned, feeling like he had a severe hangover after practically swimming in a vat of Ogden's the night before.
"Christmas morning, Mr Potter," Amelia said cheerfully. "You've been out cold for a solid week after that kangaroo repeatedly kicked you in the chest and head."
"Ehg?" Harry managed, looking utterly baffled.
"You unfortunately had to go out for a bit of air after a rather unflattering conversation with your friend, and you ran across some native wildlife in the dark," Kingsley explained helpfully. "You ran into a kangaroo. One of the reds, I think. Big guy clearly had no appreciation for Auror credentials."
"Ugh," Harry managed, rubbing his head and wincing as his aching head and chest felt like—well, like someone had kicked him in both multiple times.
Harry grunted and rubbed his eyes. He saw movement out of the corner of his vision and saw Hermione coming in from outside with a huge basket full of something roasted—too big to be chestnuts. As she came in the door, a Dementor floated over and took the basket, carrying it off, as another huge Dementor floated over.
To Harry it looked utterly intimidating, but Hermione smiled as the Dementor embraced her. His gnarled hand pressed against her abdomen, and Hermione's face lit up like Christmas itself. She jumped into the Dementor's embrace, beaming, pressing a kiss to the creature's head and hopped down. She danced a little with the Dementor.
She radiated enough magic and energy to light up the room, and the Dementors gathered around her. She surrendered to their embrace tilting her head back as if to expect a kiss, and they syphoned her radiating happiness.
Harry immediately pulled his wand only to find that it wasn't where he expected.
The group of Dementors then, to his utter confusion, gently eased her into the nearby settee and served her a tall glass of fresh-squeezed limeade. The largest of them touched her cheek like a fond friend and drifted off with its compatriots.
"What the hell, Hermione?!"
Hermione startled and turned to stare at him. "I had a lot of extra joy to share. It feeds them for months, unlike doom and gloom. And if you give it willingly, it's even more powerful for them. They can get a lot of energy during the happier holidays from me, and afterwards, I feel far more able to handle all the expected social obligations."
"They're Dementors!" Harry protested.
"Yes, well, they are perfectly wonderful around here, so you can march that righteousness right back up your arse where it came from."
Harry blinked. He wasn't used to Hermione being quite so—snappy and defensive.
"Bless you," Amelia said as a Dementor offered her a mug of cocoa and a giant stroopwafel with a marshmallow on top.
Kingsley already had a chocolate marshmallow moustache as he sipped his cocoa with enthusiasm. "You're being a bit of a pill, Potter," he chided. "You're a guest in someone's home. The least you could do is respect their space."
"A little birdie told me there was good news to share," Snape's voice rumbled from the doorway as he came in. He shrugged off his cloak on the nearby stand and sat by Hermione, kissing her forehead.
"Grandfather told me!" Hermione said, beaming. "I had so much happiness, I think I fed them for the next six months!"
"Nine, perhaps," Severus said, embracing her. "I am so grateful you were inside relaxing and not out there dodging giant homicidal pinecones."
Hermione snuggled into him. "I'm not really sure what to tell my parents. They'll want to smother me."
"Get in line, probably," Severus suggested.
Hermione laughed. "They have some emergency dental work to do today," she said. "We'll probably see them later tonight, if that's okay."
"It's fine with me," Severus said. "The guest room is already made up and ready for their invasion."
Hermione smiled. "Do you want to tell them?"
"Me?" Severus said, his brows knitting together. "Do you take me for some kind of diplomat? I am not. As if your childhood experience with the dungeon bat was not a clear enough indicator of just how badly that might go."
"You did well enough convincing my parents that I had reason to send them to Australia without their memories," Hermione said.
"That was different. I just yelled at them like a firstie trying to blow themselves up because they couldn't follow directions!"
Hermione smiled. "I love you," she said, giving him a tender kiss on the lips.
Severus softened, touching her chin with his fingertips. "I love you too. We'll figure it out one way or another. I can always use a sticking charm to affix them to their seats so they can't squeeze you to death."
"You can't love her," Harry blurted suddenly. "You're in love with my mum! I saw it in your memories! You can't lie to her like that!"
Severus' jaw tightened. "Do you wish to join me outside for a talk that will make you an arse in front of only me, or do you wish to remain in here where you can make an arse of yourself in front of everyone?"
"I saw the memories! You defied Voldemort because of my mum!"
Severus closed his eyes. "Arse in front of everyone it is then."
Severus gently caressed Hermione's cheek with his fingertips and sighed, standing. He cracked his neck with a tilt of his head. "In all the years you were my student, Potter, you were always far too lazy when it came to doing your research. You always follow your judgments face first into a giant three-headed dog. You think me a murder, incapable of emotions, and yet you think I'm still in love with your dead mother. It's hard to know where I stand with you, Potter. Am I an emotionless, sadistic arsehole and all around bastard or am I actually capable of a love so great that it forced me into a life of servitude to two megalomaniacal manipulators?"
Severus sighed. "If you haven't noticed by now, Potter, the Dark is not emotionless. If anything, it is simply at a different frequency. A different level. Have you not noticed how Dementors are not mindless, nor do they float about just looking for innocent souls? The Dark must be attuned to those they consider mates, and no amount of care for another will never change this requirement. They must be, or there can never be children. And in the case of when a Dark creature wishes to court one who is not—there is a certain process that must occur. An introduction of souls. There must be complete trust even in Darkness. There must be a—test of sorts. And for those of my particular bloodline, the test is passed in only one way. If there is not true love between myself and the one I desire, there can be no child created between us. The moment it happens, the moment it can, regardless of whether it comes to term or not, it means that our souls can be irrevocably bound as one—should she choose to accept me. Should she want me in turn, I would love her for all eternity. Share my life. My soul. My power. My love. And we would live and love in the Dark together until after every light goes out. It must be her decision. Her choice. And I may have cared for your mother for a time—when she was the only bit of acceptance I had in my Dark world. But she did not care for me. Not enough to accept me for who and what I was. Only what I wasn't. And when she died, I did much in honour of what I thought I'd had with her. Being young and stupid as I was. Oblivious. Needy."
"But she did not care enough for me to shelter my Darkness inside herself and keep it warm—Hermione, however, did. She attracted the Dementors, who sensed it. Nourished it. Protected her. She adopted a Lethifold who absolutely won't leave her side without a fight. But can she shed her humanity to join me in the Dark? That is her choice. Not mine. And not yours, Potter. Your best mate—he came here to convince her to marry him—to take her away from a lawful married husband. And I am willing to live an entire mortal lifetime with her should she decide that is all she can give. And what would Weasley give her, Potter? What would YOU give her, I wonder? A miserable lifetime filled with constant judgement? Misunderstanding? Impatience?"
Harry's face contorted with a conflicting train of thoughts.
"I choose you," Hermione said confidently. She stood, and Severus enfolded her.
"Y-you're sure?" Severus whispered.
Hermione dangled a sprig of mistletoe over his head and smiled in answer.
Severus' eyes went fully black, tendrils of smoke-like blackness leaking from his eyes. "As my lady desires, I can only—obey."
His mouth covered hers in a flash of elongated canines and infernal green tongue.
The moment they kissed, Severus' body seemed to shudder and warp into something tall and bestial in appearance. Horns, claws, teeth, spikes—but his body became a shadow as a pair of dragon-like wings burst out from his back and wrapped around her.
"My love, let me adore you," he rumbled.
As he held her close, her body shuddered, twisted, and changed. She let out a shriek of pleasured release, as Darkness swirled around her, supporting, exploring, and then it poured into her from his body and bound them together as one.
"You'll have to pardon us for a few hours, my friends," Severus' deep voice was a growling rumble. "I have to ravish my mate until her Name changes." His lips pulled back from his obsidian teeth, an eerie green glow lighting his mouth. "Do enjoy the Christmas brunch until we get back."
Jaws parted together as their serpentine tongues wound together as dark unslime dripped from their mouths.
"Take your time, we know where the tea is," Amelia said, waving her hand. "Be thorough. We'll be right here when you get back."
Kingsley lifted his drink in salute. "Seems I owe Manfred fifty galleons, the lucky bastard. What is a dragonbat going to do with all that money?"
"Spoil his mate," Amelia said serenely.
"Okay, fair point," Kingsley agreed, sipping his drink and flipping a page in the paper. "Carry on."
"Oh, before you go, here are your registration tags so no gormless berk thinks you two are rampaging uncontrolled demons and get themselves murdered," Amelia said, holding out two shining pieces of metal.
They magically floated over and embedded into both Severus and Hermione's shadow plasma with a PIP! noise.
"Have fun," Amelia said, waving her hand dismissively.
The shadow forms writhed and shifted and then FOOOP!
They were gone.
"I owe Manfred a fruit orchard," she said with a sigh. "He predicted they would consummate their immortal, eternal love before I came home."
"I've learned never to bet against Manfred."
"Well, he is a god, but every so often I manage to surprise him," Amelia said.
"Oh, how so?" Kingsley asked with a grin plastered to his handsome face.
"I bet him that Weasley would die a horribly humiliating death that had nothing whatsoever to do with magic," Amelia said with no little satisfaction.
"Whatever did you win?" Kingsley asked, curious.
"Christmas," she said with a smile. "Here with our two lovebirds."
Kingsley blinked. "Touché."
Harry convulsed on the floor, whimpering pitifully like a kicked puppy who had just gotten his arse handed to him by a tiny kitten.
"What do we do with him?" Kingsley asked, frowning.
Amelia used her wand to levitate Harry back over to the spare cot, covered him up with a gaudy red and green striped Christmas afghan, and placed the Cthulhu tree topper over his arse.
"More tea?" Amelia asked, holding up the teapot.
"Please," Kingsley replied.
And there was much rejoicing. (Yay!)
Outside, one of the giant bunya pines grew even taller, its colour changing into a deep, fathomless black and it shifted into the Shadow Dark. Giant, bat-like shadows unfolded their wings as they grasped a cone and tore into it, showering the ground with Voidcone shrapnel. Its roots rose up from the ground to surround the Snapes' home as its canopy spread and fanned out to protect the top. Each time a giant cone would fall, one of the roots would catch it and gently stack it up against the side of the house.
The eerie howl of the normally unseen Bunyip rang out over the land as even darker shapes were drawn to the sanctuary of the Snapes' newly christened home.
Even higher above it, the great and horrible shade-shape of the Elder God Cthulhu chuckled in approval as He gave His blessing to His chosen family.
"Doog. Doog," He said, still chuckling. "Eb luftiurf dna ylpitlum."
Oh, the Bunyip's very bad,
And the Bunyip's very bold,
And they tell me that the Bunyip's
Now a thousand years old
So, you better come home quickly,
And you better hide very soon,
Or the Bunyip's going to get you
In the Bunyip of moon
The Bunyip's partly animal,
The Bunyip's partly bird
The Bunyip makes the strangest sounds...
That you have ever heard
So, you better come home quickly,
And you better hide very soon,
Or the Bunyip's going to get you
In the Bunyip moon
The Bunyip's always nasty
And the Bunyip's very mean.
He's the most unpleasant monster...
That you have ever seen
So, you better come home quickly,
And you better hide very soon,
Or the Bunyip's going to get you
In the Bunyip moon
In the moon...
In the moon...
In the moon…
(Bunyip song from Dot and the Kangaroo)
A/N: Happy Christmas, everyone. Have a warm and safe holiday season.