Summary: SSHG, AU, Ron believes they are meant, so why is she kissing Snape?
Beta Love: Puffs the Sickly Dragon and the Sinus Misery, Dutchgirl the Socially Over Obligated, Commander Shepard the Controller Wrangler
A/N: Irritated Sore Throat Machine Gun Cough Corvus does not equal happy
Kismet
It was karma, it was kismet, it was magic. It doesn't matter how it happened, just that it did.
Shannon Hale
"Just leave him, 'ermione!" Ron whinged. "He dun deserve even a chance at a cure!"
"Ronald, I didn't complain when you lip-locked at least fifteen other witches in an attempt to break the sleeping curse," Hermione growled. "You have no right to complain that I want to give a wizard the same courtesy!"
"It's different for wizards!" Ron insisted.
Hermione's expression darkened. "I may be ignorant of a lot of these old Wizarding ways you would like to hold over my head," Hermione hissed. "But you are a cad, Ronald, and that translates quite clearly in any society. You can't claim we're meant and then go off snogging other witches. You're either meant or you're not. You can't have it both ways. And I don't think that even exists. If WE were meant like you describe, you wouldn't be going around trying your luck with others, which also means you're being led about by your dick. Which you are certainly free to do, by the way. Without me."
"Come on, 'Mione, you know those other witches didn't mean anything," Ron whinged.
"That makes it even worse that you would kiss anyone and not mean it," Hermione scoffed.
"So, what—you have feelings for 'ol Snape? Dat what you going to plant one on him while he's not able to tell you off?" Ron blurted.
"I would never force my feelings on anyone, Ron, and if you think I would," Hermione said. "Then you don't know me at all."
Hermione leaned in and very gently placed a kiss upon Snape's lips.
"You get away from my Sheverus!" Trelawney screamed. "He's mine!"
The angry witch used a spell to propel Hermione A-over-T into the far wall before planting a huge, sloppy, amorous kiss on Severus' mouth.
Severus' hand shot up and curled around Trewlawey's neck. "Get. Off. Me. Immediately."
"Sheverus! MY LOVE! I have cured your curse! We are meant!"
"I wouldn't care if we were the last two people on the Earth," Severus hissed. "I would never be with you!"
"Shevverrrus," Sybill whinged. "You don't mean that!"
"I have never meant anything more," Severus growled.
"You see, 'Mione!" Ron crowed gleefully. "He was never meant for you!"
Crack!
Hermione was gone.
"I can't find 'er, 'arry!" Ron complained. "You have to help me!"
"Ron, after what I heard you said to her when she was at Mungo's," Harry said with a sigh, "I wouldn't blame her for taking a big step away from you."
"Wut you mean by that?" Ron demanded, staring at Harry in confusion.
"I'm saying that if you had used your Auror skills instead of your cock, Ron," Harry said frostily, "you'd have known that you and Hermione are about as meant as Fiendfyre in a library."
"No way, mate," Ron insisted stubbornly. "We're going to get married and have lots of kids. That's what people do when they get married. Besides, we kissed. That's as good as a bloody contract, that is."
"Then you need to go and marry Lavender," Harry bit out. "Because there are at least a hundred or more witnesses to how often you two were seen snogging each other into the floor."
"That's different!" protested Ron. "We weren't of age, then!"
"Then go marry Romilda Vane, who I know you took some time to woo when you left us in the Forest of Dean after your temper tantrum," Harry scoffed.
"That's not fair, Harry, you know I only did that because I thought you and 'Mione were out there getting it on," Ron objected.
"Then by all rights, I should marry Hermione," Harry pointed out. "That's the rules, right?"
"Whut? NO! You have to marry Ginny!"
"No one has to marry anyone," Harry said with an eye roll. "They should want to get married. Mutually. And if even a fraction of those witches you bedded after the war wanted you as much as you claimed, you have far more marriages ahead of you before Hermione even enters the picture. And she's clearly not interested, just in case you haven't noticed, Ron."
"Of course she's interested," Ron scoffed. "That's what all witches want. Babies."
Harry's face screwed up with distaste. "I doubt anyone else wants as many as you seem to think you want."
"You're one to talk," Ron accused. "You want kids too."
"Yeah, but Ginny doesn't," Harry informed him "So I'm going to focus on my career and find someone who wants to settle and have a family together. Mutually."
"WHUT D'YOU MEAN GINNY DOESN'T WANT KIDS?!"
Arthur swallowed hard as he saw the tall, pale man walk out from the back room of Gringotts. While the man wasn't actually threatening him, he couldn't help but feel an unmistakable vibration of power, the likes of which the Malfoys could only posture and pretend they had. The man was dressed in impeccable scarlet and black brocade. His eyes were a dark brown that shimmered with magic.
He blinked, and that sense of the man was gone. He looked like any, admittedly attractive man, but no different than any other. Maybe—more than a bit attractive.
Maybe even enough to make Arthur begin to question his marriage.
"Lord Sanguini," the goblin said. "This man wishes to take out a loan to rebuild his home, which was taken by the war, but our rules specifically state we cannot until the debt of the son who assisted in the escape of one of our dragons and destruction of our lower levels is paid. He begs for an exception due to the war, but that requires someone able to guarantee the bond of repayment."
Sanguini's lip twitched as he focused his steely gaze upon Arthur.
"You have no one else who can vouch for your repayment?" the man asked.
Arthur felt a strange compulsion to kiss the man's feet that was very difficult to resist.
"No, I do not," Arthur admitted uncomfortably. "My family is not well received by the more well-to-do families. And even if they were on better terms with our family, they have their own concerns and also need to rebuild after the war."
"And what could you possibly have that would interest me enough to be willing to put my name with your debt?"
Arthur fidgeted. "My family doesn't have much in terms of assets, Lord Sanguini."
Sanguini's mouth twitched upward at one corner. "You do have one thing."
Arthur's eyes widened. "What? Whatever it is, surely we can come to an agreement. Our home was everything to us. It held every memory."
"You will relinquish the illegal betrothal contract made to bind your son Ronald Bilius Weasley to Hermione Jean Granger and release it to me," Sanguini said. "And swear upon the blood of your line to neither pursue her or any she associates with in friendship, revenge, business, or marriage. Do this, and I will stand by your little loan, on the condition you do pay it back one way or another."
"B-betrothal contract?" Arthur said numbly, his face twisting in confusion.
"No, Arthur! We'll find another way! Ron and Hermione are meant!" Molly immediately protested.
Arthur's head turned as if on a swivel. "Molly, what in Merlin's name have you done?"
"Nothing that didn't have to be done!" Molly exclaimed.
"I will make this quite plain to you, Mr Weasley," Sanguini said implacably. "You will bring me this contract forged in blood under the board, and I will support your financial bid for a loan from Gringotts, Mr Weasley. If you do not, I will bring you before the Council of Vampiric Law for attempting to bind my mate to an illegal marriage, and I will wipe the name of Weasley away from all of Europe and beyond. I will then proceed to drain every single man, woman, and child of your line right in front of you and your wife. And then I will drain you in front of the one who performed the wicked deed. Once that is done, I will drain your wife to the point of death and then thrall her so that she may eternally relive the horror of watching her children die before her one by one as their babies scream in terror. I will ensure that the line of Weasley is forever spoken of in hushed tones of horror or as a curse until the skies burn and the land falls into the sea. This is my solemn promise. This is my Oath."
Sanguini put his hand to his mouth and bit the flesh of his hand, and he let the blood drip.
"You may take my hand, mortal," Sanguini said darkly, "and get your loan. Or you can walk away knowing that your time is limited by how long you can avoid the hounds and by the number of family members there are before you. It is your choice."
Arthur saw that flash of magic across Sanguini's eyes—that hint that the man was much more than just a supernatural being. He was magical, too. He knew that promise was his Oath, and that if he left without taking that hand, both he and his wife would be dragged before this "Council" and judged. Arthur hastily thrust out his hand to take Sanguini's, and then fell flat on his face, stunned, as Molly began to drag him out the room by his ankles and a levitation spell.
"We don't need your help," he heard Molly growl, but Arthur was unable to move or protest.
As the two left Gringotts, Sanguini's eyes glowed an ominous red.
"Shall we deal with them, my lord?" two pale wizards asked.
Sanguini's gaze was umbral. "No. We will let this play out as we figure out who was complicit and who was not. Those who had no idea will be given the option of being Turned. If they refuse, they are to be killed mercifully. The rest will go exactly as I promised. But first, they must be taken before the Council. Give them the time to think themselves safe, then yank them from their beds."
"Yes, my Lord."
Sanguini narrowed his eyes as a thought occurred to him.
"Caroth."
"Yes, Lord?"
"Check to see if there are any other magically induced betrothals in this family. Be sure to dig very deeply. And check the family this Molly Weasley came from. Prewett, I believe."
"It will be done."
Sybill paled and she swallowed nervously as she was brought before an ominous-looking darkened chamber. The far walls boasted an extensive array of flickering candles, yet they barely lit the massive room. She trembled, finding she could hardly walk in the heavy Elizabethan gown, and the bodice was fastened around her chest so tightly that she could barely move or breathe.
When she caught sight of the pale faces of those sitting on thrones of marble, their hands stroking all varieties of snarling, ferocious-looking beasts, she also noticed their glowing eyes, tapering claws, and barely concealed fangs.
"Sybill Patricia Trelawney," intoned a wizened older man who looked like some legendary old man from a mountain who brewed elixirs made of cinnabar and mercury in order to make themselves immortal. "It has come to our attention that you are petitioning for the right to bind yourself for all eternity to Lord Severus based on your claim that you successfully administered True Love's Kiss in order to rouse him from a magically-induced slumber."
"We take our obligations to our life mates very seriously," a woman with startling blue eyes rimmed with crimson said softly. "Such a profound bond of love and devotion is unmistakable. Since our commitments are every bit as eternal as they are fatal in order for our lives to truly begin again, you must submit your blood to the Council and allow us your memories to provide recognition of the Bond. Once this is done, we shall allow you to meet the Triumvirate that will share your life and loves for all the years of your very long life."
"You will, of course," said another, "have to learn a few years worth of cultural preparation for the responsibilities of joining one our lords and ladies, purify your body in order to guarantee a non traumatic or fatal transition—that means abstaining from all forms of alcohol or any human drugs or potions that pollute your blood to give you the best chance of survival, your talents evaluated and measured so we know where best to apprentice you and who will make the best master for you for the first few hundred years or so to ensure you do not lose control and murder innocents, court etiquette, Council law of the Sang, history of the Lines as to not embarrass yourself in our society, knowing the ages of the Line Heads and the proper respects so you don't get yourself murdered, diplomacy as to not embarrass yourself or the Sang to mortals, being placed under Blood Oath to not reveal the Sang or its business to mortals in any way not officially ordered by the Council itself for benefit of international relations—there are few other things we'll get into, but I'm sure it will be nothing for one who stepped in so valiantly to save your true love from eternal slumber."
Sybill Trelawney had passed out cold on the floor.
The Council of Elders stroked their chins simultaneously.
"Mary, did you perhaps forget that she needed to breathe?" one of the female vampires asked, tapping her claws on the throne.
"My apologies, Lady Camille," the doe-eyed vampire apologised.
Camille waved her hand dismissively. "Loosen her bodice so she can breathe, and prepare her for the blood memory sharing."
As Mary leaned down to do as she was told, Sybill shot up screaming her head off and fled out of the audience chamber like a witch on fire.
"Alas, my dear friends," Lord Rada said as he stroked his pointed ear. "You will not be getting married after all."
"Woe," Severus intoned drolly as he kissed Hermione's neck even as Sanguini kissed his. "Such a pity."
"I know I was excited," Lord Maksim said with a sigh. "The wedding feasts are to DIE for. All over again."
Molly smiled proudly as all of her children gathered for her and Arthur's anniversary, happy that all of her babies were, despite that monster's ghastly threats, still very much alive to celebrate their day. She'd been so worried for a while—wanting all of her children to be extra vigilant but without telling them the exact reason why.
They'd all understand later when their children needed to be paired off with good magical blood. They'd understand the sacrifices that had to be made to ensure the family continued with strong magic and no squibs.
Arthur hadn't been happy with her, but it was nothing a good Obliviate couldn't fix. Then, he was back to being the loving, doting husband he'd always been.
He'd tried to escape his responsibilities, and she couldn't have that.
Ginny had decided to make a go of playing professional Quidditch for the Holyhead Harpies instead of settling down and having children, and so Harry had gotten married to that horrid Daphne Greengrass girl instead. An evil Slytherin of all things! Ronald had gone and gotten that little Vane tartlet bloody well up the duff before they could manage to reel Hermione in with the contract—sabotaging all the years of hard work she'd put in to set them up.
It was imperative that the pureblood magical lines didn't die off, and the Prewett family had been using one of the oldest magics shared by every pureblood family since time immemorial. Every family from the olden times had their own unique version of the spell. Of course, the older families used it to ensure their children married the "right blood" but the Prewetts had always made sure that their children married to boost the family magic and fertility. Her own marriage to Arthur had guaranteed a lot of children—a greater potential for magic.
Only something went wrong.
The more children they had, the less the magic seemed to strengthen with each successive birth. It should have been quite the opposite. Worse, the only one that was interested in having many children was Ronald, who couldn't even keep it in his pants long enough to seal himself to the right witch—a witch that would have brought them both magic, intelligence, and Muggle wealth.
Charlie was far more interested in dragons than in building a family. Bill had gone and bound himself up with that French Veela tart—and that was enough to make her teeth itch. Percy was entirely too interested in political climbing to do his duty as a wizard. George—he was too busy grieving for poor dead Fred to even think about marriage.
What she hadn't counted on was that Hermione Granger had been claimed by a leech—and not just any run of the mill leech either, oh no. A lord. A master vampire.
And Arthur had wanted to accept the leech's offer.
To force her to admit they'd bound Hermione Granger to their son unlawfully to resolve the problems with the goblins.
No.
No!
It was their right to ensure magic stayed in the family! Their duty!
At least Bill was married—but they hadn't had any children yet. If they didn't have kids soon then something would have to be done.
Well, at least they were all alive in defiance of that bloody leech's threats. It had clearly been all posturing. There was no such thing as a vampire council.
She just wished Ron could have held it together until Granger was married and pregnant. He could have done whatever he wanted after that. AFTER that.
After that, Granger couldn't have escaped becoming a Weasley wife for life. They'd have been able to use her Order of Merlin money to rebuild the Burrow properly.
But no—
Ronald just had to follow his cock instead of doing the responsible thing.
Well, at least he had a baby on the way with the Vane girl. None of the others were getting down to fulfilling their family responsibilities.
Well, that would be changing after tonight's dinner.
Every dish was an ingredient to a potent fertility elixir.
Errol faceplanted into the pudding on the counter, a scroll attached to his leg.
Molly cleaned off the errant owl and took the scroll, unrolling it.
Dearest Mum,
You know, when Fred told me you were trying to pressure him into a good marriage, I told him he was just being paranoid. You wanted all of us to have grandbabies. Everyone knew that since we were kids.
What I didn't expect is that you'd write betrothal contracts for us without our knowing. That my attraction to Angelina Johnson wasn't even my choosing. That you'd try to bind Harry to Ginny. That you'd ensnare Hermione to our little git bro—that's real low, Mum. Real low.
That alone would be enough to tell you to go jump in the drink and swim to Atlantis, but you even did it to Dad, and that—I just can't live with that on my conscience.
Because if you could do it to someone like Dad, then you care nothing at all about free will or allowing us as adults to make our own mistakes. You're just as bad as the other families and their history of magically forced betrothals.
So just imagine my surprise when there came a knocking on my door one night to give me an offer I shouldn't refuse. I could, but I thought of what my dear brother would have said about dealing with difficult people. And then, I thought of what would chafe you the most. Other than shaving your head bald and dying your skin hot pink with orange spots again.
This is what I think.
I think what you hate the most right now are things that remind you of what little control you have over the world. You hated Snape because he was a Dark Wizard like those that killed your brothers. You hated anything that threatened your family, making babies the way you wanted them—that's why you hated how Bill got away from you and managed to marry someone he actually loved.
He fought you.
Well, I'm fighting you too, Mum.
I'm taking Lord Sanguini up on his offer. The entire join me or die proposal seems super dramatic when delivered by a malevolent cloud of flaming bats, hellhounds, and well—the actual vampires.
You've been naughty. So very naughty.
Well, I can be naughty, too, Mum. Naughty enough that I can take it up a notch or three every few hundred years and be content in the fact that I will have a very long time to do all the things that drive you absolutely mental with a great big smile on my face.
And someone has to live long enough to make up for Fred not being here.
I just wanted to say thanks, Mum.
Thanks for proving to me that sometimes the best options are to start over without all of that annoying baggage.
Oh, and don't feel bad about dear little ickle Ronniekins. After what baby bro tried to do to Hermione to get her in the mood, he deserves every bit of pain that's coming his way.
I'd worry about you.
You have a long bit ahead of you as well.
And sorry, I can't say that I give a damn if you suffer.
Pip pip.
Molly dropped the letter in shocked horror and turned to her family that had gone terribly quiet. She went dead white as she saw Ron faceplanted into the mashed turnips, Percy's head bobbing in the punch bowl, Ginny's terrified brown eyes staring back at her from atop the iced fruitcake, and all of her remaining children blotting their mouths with blood-stained napkins.
"I fear I have a bone to pick with you, Mollywobbles," Arthur said from behind her.
Molly turned to see Arthur giving her an oddly unnatural smile with pointed canines exposed.
"Vampirism cures Obliviation," Arthur announced as he descended upon his wife's neck, fangs bared, and Molly Weasley could only scream and scream.
And everyone died.
Some got better, though.
"I think we've been dumped for a puppy, lover," Sanguini complained as Hermione cuddled the madly wriggling hellhound pup.
Severus sighed. "She's preferred furry and adorable to us since the Greek temples were new. I doubt that's going to change anytime soon."
"I'm still here, you know," Hermione said with a chuckle. "I'm not deaf, either."
Sanguini chuckled as he leaned in to give his mate a kiss. "I suppose it can't be helped. We did promise you a puppy when all the war Riddle drama was over."
"If she was good," Severus muttered. "She got herself mentally bamboozled while posing as a Muggleborn child of a dentist, suffered an enchanted crush on a freckled abomination with more chicken wing sauce than sense, and didn't get cured until she tried to cure me from a sleeping curse that Ronald Weasley was hoping would be his ticket into the knickers of countless witches."
Hermione may or may not have said unspeakable things in a cute voice to the hellhound pup that insulted Romans and all things Roman in heavily accented ancient Greek. The pup growlrowled and wagged his flaming tail in happy agreement.
"She still broke free of the compulsions enough to break your curse and hers," Sanguini said. "Considering it was blood magic, I'd say that deserves a puppy, my loves."
"Hn," Severus muttered.
"Efcharistó," Hermione said with a tender smile, the pup licking under her chin. She bit into her palm and let the pup lick the blood off it, which it did with happiness.
Severus leaned in and sneaked in a tender kiss. "Ignosce me," he apologised. "I have become far too practiced at being a grumpy bastard than a loving mate."
Hermione touched his cheek. "You've always been a grumpy bastard, but you've also been a loving mate," Hermione said with a chuckle.
Severus huffed. He slithered in between her and the hellhound puppy and gave her a thorough snogging.
"Don't mind me, I like to watch," Sanguini drawled, obviously amused.
Severus frowned as he pulled back from an amorous snog. "Alas, we have a Council meeting to decide the fate of Molly Weasley."
Sanguini scowled. "That means I have to put on pants."
"And the rest, I'd imagine. At least some trousers over those pants."
Sanguini sighed. "What fun is that, really?"
"The publicly decent kind."
Sanguini frowned. "Tch."
"Besides, we want Molly Weasley to be cognizant enough to be utterly terrified, not all but insensate and too busy drooling over your delectable body to be capable of little other than stroking herself into oblivion, and by the gods, I don't want to see that. Ever."
Sanguini sighed deeply. "Fine. I will protect your delicate sensibilities and inability to properly Obliviate yourself."
Severus muttered something in Latin as he pulled the other vampire down into a heated snog.
"Thank you, my Lords and Ladies," the somewhat frail vampire said as they bowed deeply. He took the nervous-looking woman by the hand. "Your blessing of our marriage is of great relief. The gift of land in which to build a future and family is most gracious."
"I'm sure you will make ourv Nation proud, Adiv," Lord Zaidu said as he pet the hellhound by his throne.
"You will, of course, be given quarters here to protect you and your mate until she is fully Turned," Lady Antonia said. "Please make use of it, as your safety during such a delicate time is most important."
"We will, Lady Antonia, thank you," Adiv said with a bow.
The delicate-looking vampire and his future mate left swiftly as a pair of guards pushed a certain witch in front of them using the shaft end of their halberds.
Molly Weasley crumpled into the inlaid mosaic floor where a great and vast mural of dragons, hellhounds, firecats, fel-hounds, and every beast in between curled together like a great Celtic knotwork—all swirling around a vampiric couple from ancient times.
"Molly Weasley," Lord Gareth rumbled, his ice-like claws tapping ominously on his throne. "You must be so very desperate for an audience amongst the Sang. So very very desperate if you would dare ensorcel one of our elders—two if you could the sins of your son with your blessing."
"I-Idon'tknowwhatyoumean," Molly stammered hastily.
"Tch," Lord Maksim tutted, clicking his tongue. "The blood, madam, tells all. You purebloods think the blood is the magic, but the truth is the blood is memory. All the memories. All the magic once used. Locked away for the record. Year upon year."
"Generation upon generation," Lady Brunhild said.
"And your blood has a very interesting story to tell, Madam Weasley," Lord Gareth said, lips twitching.
"A very interesting story," Lord Rada said, his eyes giving a slow, dangerous blink.
"You might have gotten away with it had you not attempted to bind one of the Sang to your family against their will," Lord Nikolai said.
"A dangerous game even if it had not been one of the elders," Lady Isolde said, eyes narrowing.
"We warned our Lord Severus and Lady Hermione that attempting to help the mortals in their war was dangerous," Lady Camille said.
"But they cared too much for the Wizarding World to let it burn," Lord Zaiu said.
"They both took the blood elixir to fit into mortal society—suppress their true natures—all to do their best to ensure this—Tom Riddle didn't destroy the world they had come to love," Lady Layra said. "And while many of us agreed, most of us had lines to protect. We could not leave them for a human lifetime. They could. So they did."
"And you—you saw Lady Hermione," Lord Marcus said darkly. "As a perfect breeding vessel for your son, so you decided to bind her unknowingly to your son. A crime in the modern Wizarding World. A crime against magic, if you bothered to notice."
"Surely you noticed how those families that used such magic since the very beginning—how they began to become less fertile—less magical?" Lord Marcus continued. "Or perhaps you blamed it on the inbreeding.
"I-it's the magical way!" Molly protested.
"For your bloodline, assuredly," Lady Camille said. "Your blood has already told us that. So many sins. But unlike the other pureblood families who chose to keep it within the family as it were—dooming themselves to die of the resultant faults, mutations, loss of magical ability and intelligence, and outright genetic stagnation, you—well, you shopped around to select the choicest goods that were magical enough to keep your line strong."
"Honestly, I'm not sure what is worse," a strikingly familiar "man" said from his throne. His black, straight hair was down to his waist, his black claws tapping on the throne as the other Lords seemed to do as some idle tic. "Vampires of the past who chose to enslave as a matter of principle or you, who even in this modern world seem to think it's perfectly acceptable as long as a good match is made."
"You even chose the way of the fey, didn't you, Mrs Weasley," a curly-haired woman said as Sanguini kissed up her arm sensuously. "Your line liked to give away their squibs, stealing children with magical potential to keep your magic strong."
"But was really enough to bring the bile up was that your high and mighty family of sanctimonious righteousness—it was just as muddy as every other pureblood family. Only your family did at least not resort to murdering their broodmares after using them up and stealing their children."
Molly's eyes widened as it dawned on her that the tall, well-groomed, black-haired man sitting by the curly-haired woman and the one she realised was Sanguini himself, was none other than Severus Snape.
Lord.
He was one of their Lords.
"It makes you wonder if perhaps the Wizarding War was a complete farce from the very beginning," Lord Rada observed. "Since none of the old families truly kept it in house. It was obvious some families did a bit more than others, but even then—they reverted to the Muggleborn broodmare policy. What no one knew, never existed, yes?"
"And that was the real reason why Sirius Black had to go, wasn't it, Madam Weasley?" Lady Antonia said. "Because he believed, deep down, despite his posturing, that the Black line couldn't disappear entirely. He planned to court Hermione Granger and, well, at least marry her and not murder her after. But if HE wanted to do that, well, you knew that certain other families were considering it too, only were perfectly happy murdering her the old way."
"So you set him up, didn't you?" Lord Marcus said, running his talon across his lips with an evaluating look. "You made sure that Harry Potter didn't know that Sirius Black was still safe at Grimmauld Place and that Harry went flying off the handle, desperate to rush off and rescue him. You made sure he was there so Sirius would have to rescue him as his godfather. You made sure he met crazy Bellatrix. You made sure he died that night. Because if he died, Hermione would still be there for your son. Still there to enhance your bloodline. And your secret would be safe because you knew Sirius Black would quickly recognise the magic binding her and call you out on it."
"Only you didn't count on your idiot youngest son botching the sleeping curse and accidentally-on-purpose cursing so many people just to get the opportunity to kiss-shop around looking for the "one" thus breaking your magical hold on Hermione Granger," Lady Brunhild said.
"And so, with the magic weakened," Lady Antonia said. "Hermione Granger kissed Severus Snape, who happened to be one of her true loves. Her mate. And all that mental subjugation vanished. She remembered who she was. What she was. Why she was—and she disappeared from that hospital room before she murdered every woman, man, and child in Mungos in her rage."
"Tch," Severus said as he pulled away from Hermione's rather seductive neck, a bit of blood on his lips. "I would have just put a yoke around your neck with your crimes written all over it and cast you into the river or buried you alive as per the Roman way of dealing with their problems, but Hermione was always more—compassionate than I ever was."
"And things did begin to break down, didn't they, Madam Weasley?" Lady Layra said. "Your second eldest fled to Romania and preferred to consort with dragons than be married off by his fanatical mother. The powerful twin-bond between Fred and George kept the enchantments from taking root. Your daughter wanted to play Quidditch, not get married. Your eldest son was off working for the goblins in Egypt—the one place on Earth your magic couldn't reach him, so Bill was free to marry a person of his own choosing. And since he was kind enough to announce it to everyone, it infuriated you that you couldn't just pull on the yoke and make him obey you, to marry a witch of your choosing without attracting undue attention."
"Which is why we decided that those of your get were to be offered a choice—agree to be Turned and thus sever themselves from your line forevermore in favour of one of our Lines or else die like the rest of your accursed family," Lord Sanguini said, running his fingertip over one of his fangs. "Amazingly, they didn't even see it as an option—to die for your crimes. Not that I blame them in the slightest."
"And so, this all comes back to you, Molly Weasley," Lord Maksim said. "Your crimes of blood and heritage are now well known to us as is every spell you have cast. Your guilt is already written in your blood. Only your sentence remains, as no human court or Wizengamot could possibly understand the vast scope of your crimes."
"It has been decided amongst us that you shall be thralled, but unlike those given at least the blessing of mindless bliss, you shall retain your mind—enough to appreciate the gravity of your penance for as many years as your line was long thrice over. At that point, you will be rejudged to see whether you will be released to age and given back to the Wizengamot for the serving of your mortal crimes from which you have already been judged but given to us in deferral of your crimes against the Sang and the Undead Nation as priority."
"The memories of your crimes will be preserved," Lord Zaidu said, holding up a small crystal phial where a swirling wisp of memories were held within. "for the human courts so none can ever forget what had happened, and as I understand it, Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt has already vowed to clean the Ministry from within, and his tasks will include detecting the use of subjugating marital magic."
"And while the humans may believe Dementors to be mindlessly cruel creatures that have no place in the natural world, we have no such foibles," Lord Marcus said. He gestured to the Dementors floating on the edges of the throne room.
Molly cringed and whimpered.
"Should you attempt to escape your fate here, Molly Weasley," Lord Rada said sternly. "We shall loose the hounds to drag you back and give you to the Dementors to do with as they wish."
The hellhounds all snarled simultaneously, even the smaller pup that lay on the curl-haired vampire's lap.
Molly crumpled on the floor whimpering and sobbing that it wasn't supposed to be like this.
"So it has been recorded," the vampires intoned.
"So it shall be."
The vampires' eyes glowed ominously together as a flash of cold and heat sealed the fate of Molly Prewett Weasley and brought about the end of the lines of Weasley and Prewett.
Severus pulled Hermione to his chest as they snuggled into the duvet together. The hellhound pup growled and fussed, wanting to snuggle into his mistress but he was foiled by Hermione's two devoted mates.
Sanguini pulled the duvet over them, snuggling into Hermione's back as his face pressed into her lush curls.
"It's so good to be home," Hermione said with a hum and purr.
The determined pup stuck his nose under the bottom of the duvet and burrowed under it, wriggling in until he wedged under Hermione's arm and then flopped, instantly asleep.
"That's it, I'm removing his bollocks," Severus muttered.
"Don't you dare," Hermione said with a chuckle, giving Severus a tender kiss.
Severus muttered and surrendered to his mate's tender affections. "Fine, he may live. With his bollocks intact."
Sanguini chuckled. "He'll be a fine guardian of our chambers while we make up for lost time. I think with the release of all that fertility magic, we're due for a little how's your father, hrm?"
"And how is your father, lover?" Hermione said with a smile.
"Could be better with a little ecstatic screaming," Sanguini said.
"Allow us—to help," Severus said, pressing a heated kiss upon her lips as Sanguini descended upon her neck.
Hermione's ecstatic shriek echoed through the Undead Nation, mirrored by many more from various domiciles.
Time passes…
There was a strange sense of irony as Severus looked out over the train station platform and saw so many familiar faces—not so much the old families but in the sheer amount of Sang at the station this particular year.
It wasn't just the Sang, either, that had soaked up the released fertility of the defunct Prewett and Weasley families—there were more Dementors (how that happened was anyone's guess), hellhounds, firecats, fel-hounds, and even whatever beasts and mortals happened to be within a very large radius of the Undead Nation.
The news had been full of endangered species making comebacks, infertile couples being able to have children even after more than a decade of sadness, and other fertility miracles.
The news of Molly Weasley's fate to the Wizarding World, however had brought many families of the pureblood lines, at least, under severe scrutiny, with the only thing saving them being that they arranged for betrothals at birth with other families under mutual agreement—something even the Muggles were still known to do from time to time.
It had saved them—if only barely.
The stigma of it started growing now that it was exposed, and the pureblood families had to watch their ps and qs very, very carefully.
It amused him greatly.
The irony that he and Hermione had spent upwards of two decades trying to save the Wizarding World from itself only to realise that a family on the side of "light" apparently was hellbent on saving itself far more insidiously than any Dark Lord had.
But, now that Dumbledore was dead, Riddle was very permanently dead, and he and Hermione were very much back to being un-dead, life was suddenly feeling far more liveable.
And Sanguini was much less murderous with Hermione around to temper his bloodthirsty inclinations. She always had—the both of them had been warmongering idiots for quite a long time before having met her. She had tempered their wrath and turned into a different sort of passion and a need to nurture their mate.
"Only after you both tried to run your swords through me in an attempt to murder each other," Hermione said with a smirk.
Severus and Sanguini flinched simultaneously at the rather disturbing memory. Back then, they'd been such bitter enemies—Sanguini was part of the Dacian province of the Roman Empire—but not before there were bloody conquering battles. Severus and Sanguini had been the greatest of enemies. Two sides of an unspoken cultural war.
Then, they'd met Hermione—a peace-loving priestess of Hades who had believed in balance, whether it be war or peace, they'd both fallen for her, and they'd both fallen upon each other like rabid animals—too caught up in the prejudice to think positively of the other.
Severus had practised Roman arrogance, and Sanguini had the fierce Dacian pride in their homeland—long before it had transformed into modern day Romania. So, with the typical war-like natures they both harboured, they'd tried to run each other through and instead, run their swords into their love instead.
Joined in mutual horror for the first time—they had both bitten their wrists, clasped their hands for the first time, and Turned her together. And in that primal, desperate moment, they had realised they were both vampires.
"And utter idiots," Hermione said, her expression strangely wistful and affectionate.
Both Severus and Sanguini lowered their heads to give her a tender kiss on the cheek.
"I'd like to think we recovered nicely," Sanguini purred.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I suppose so. After murdering me, that is."
Sanguini huffed, gently running his fingertips under her chin. "I surrender," he rumbled. He pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket and waved it vigorously.
Hermione pulled his head down and gave him a tender kiss on the mouth. "I suppose I must forgive you for both the peace and tranquillity of our house and home."
"Are you sure I have everything, Mum?" their daughter asked with wide, hopeful eyes.
"I'm sure you have everything and then some, Silvia," Hermione said, eyebrow twitching.
"Rwoorl!" The two firecat kits pressed their paws against the temporary cage, eager to get going.
"Why couldn't I take a hellhound pup?" pouted their male spawn.
"Because a hellhound would eat the owls and the cats and probably the toads too, Julius," Sanguini said, patting him on the head. "And you don't have the powers yet to keep them suitably in check."
Julius pouted a little more. He then smiled cheekily and kissed his mum on the cheek and scurried off to the train ignoring his two fathers completely.
Silvia hugged and kissed them all, gathering her trunk, book satchel, and cat cage.
"Come on, Silvia, hurry up!" Scorpius Malfoy called from the train window. "The sweets cart is almost here!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Silvia called back, scurrying away.
"They're all going to die," Severus predicted. "They won't make it to Hogwarts."
Hermione sighed. "They're young, not fel-hound pups."
"Give them a moment to mutate," Severus suggested.
Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.
Severus wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.
"My Lords, Lady," a group of vampires said as they finished herding their own spawns into the train.
Severus, Sanguini, and Hermione inclined their heads slightly.
A large gaggle of pale-skinned children waved happily from the train windows, and they all waved back.
"Do you think Hogwarts will survive the influx of our children?" Bill asked as he approached them with Fleur at his side.
"Severus thinks they'll all die horribly," Hermione said.
"What a tragic end for all that work raising them for the last eleven years," Bill mock-lamented.
"Zhey will be fine," Fleur said, huffing. "Ze other students, per'aps not so much."
Hermione snickered. "I doubt Minerva will let anyone get away with anything on her watch."
"Quite unlike a certain long-bearded meddler," Severus added sourly.
"From what I understand," Bill said. "She's introducing quite a few cultural courses both for Muggle, goblin, and Sang—trying to make people less oblivious to the other magicals that share their life."
"Most of the laws for the Sang are not for mortals to know, but—" Sanguini tilted his head. "It would be nice for them not to insult someone like Lord Marcus on the rare chance of meeting him in Diagon Alley."
"The horror," Hermione said with a smile. "He has mellowed in the last few hundred years. It helps that he found a mate."
"Seems to be something of a trend," Sanguini said with a smirk.
"I'm pretty sure having a mate tames the restless beast," Bill said after a moment of thought. "At least I don't have to worry about raw meat cravings and wanting to howl every time a certain Quidditch team makes a goal."
"Zank ze gods," Fleur said fervently.
"Now he can howl for completely different reasons," Sanguini said, deadpan.
Bill's eyes widened, and he flushed pink, his pale skin appearing a little more normal-looking for a time.
Hermione nuzzled Sanguini. "Behave, love," she crooned. "They haven't had as long as us to get used to your candour."
Sanguini arched a brow. "Pity."
Hermione leaned closer and nibbled his ear. "It's movie night."
Severus grunted. "Dare I ask what is playing in the theatres?"
"Interview with a Vampire," Hermione answered with a snicker.
"Gods," Severus moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes as if in pain.
"Excellent," Sanguini exclaimed. "I love comedy!"
Severus made a rude Roman hand gesture to which Sanguini responded with an ancient Dacian one.
Hermione responded by pulling both their heads close and kissing them both.
"Fine," Severus said with a put-upon sigh.
"Excellent," Sanguini purred.
"Coming, Bill? Fleur?" Hermione invited. "It should be quite comical."
Severus grunted and barked to the other vampires milling about. "Oi, you lot! You're coming to the movies with us. If I have to suffer this, then so do you."
"Y-yes, my lord!" the other vampires simpered.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on, everyone. I brought plenty of blood sauce for the popcorn."
Everyone perked as she passed out vials of sauce and they all Disapparated with a crack.
And they lived and loved smugly ever after…
A/N: Corvus still has COVID, and is not a happy bird with machine gun coughing and pure misery with a side of fatigue. If nothing in this story made any sense, sorry. COVID brain is real.
My attempt to murder everyone was foiled by both Dragon and Dutchgirl01, who managed to find two lines of murder that Dragon missed. *sadface*
On the bright side, a lot of appropriately bad people met karma in a bad-end™. You're welcome!