A/N: Happy February 15th aka Evil Author's Day, I'm posting a bit early, but it's the 15th in Tokyo, so that's good enough for me! You know what that means! Incomplete, never finishing, read at your own risk shenanigans! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Summary: AU, R/S/HG, SSLE, Choices brought him to this place, and those choices had been dead wrong. (Would be SSHG, but this is EAD, so…)

Beta Love: Dragon and the Rosy Red Nose, Dutchgirl01 the Super Sneaky Stalker of Cheese, Commander Shepard the Missing in Action

Choices We Make

Never underestimate the power of jealousy and the power of envy to destroy. Never underestimate that.

Oliver Stone

Hermione sipped her tea as she had a free moment. Severus was busy checking his shelves, as usual, and it was a peaceful sort of afternoon. Diagon Alley was usually positively bustling with activity, but there was some sort of popular Quidditch event going on in Scotland, so most people were out there making a day of it.

Severus had made bank with his wide array of exclusive patents straight out of Hogwarts, and he could easily afford to buy the expansive storefront for his shop. He had allowed her to run her healing clinic in the rear adjoining rooms as a sort of off-hours healing for those who didn't want to go to Mungos for treatment.

Hermione had apprenticed with the great and strangely unknown to most, Master Manfred Morgan, and by the time she had come out of that, she'd realised her healing talents were not exactly like the standard Mungos fare. She'd been studying weekends with him since she was a young witch, and she stayed her summers in the Department of Mysteries under his tutelage. She'd withstood his test of breath, gained an extensive arsenal of different healing abilities, but also a strong craving for fruit (especially mangoes) that tended to get even stronger depending on her hormone level that day.

Certain times of the month had her sprouting funnel ears and a prehensile tail, which took a bit of strange manoeuvering and glamour charms to conceal.

Unfortunately, there was no room for another healer in the DoM, so she had to make her way on her own until she aged into a partnership with an established clinic or gained enough solid experience that she could attract a sponsor to get a foothold in the expensive Diagon Alley properties.

Healing clients at Mungos paid nothing, as per the standard healthcare in Muggle Britain, but what she offered was discreet emergent care from everything from Wizard Penile Pox to "embarrassing rashes" to Dark cursed wounds. Or in the case of Dark creatures, light-cursed wounds.

She'd had a man bring in his Nundu for healing after it got into a fight with a dragon, and her payment for her work and discretion had been a tiny ball of spotted fur and sharp teeth to her boot.

She'd picked up the Nundu cub and the kit had promptly breathed raspberry breath into her face, and it was love at first sight.

Of course, Amelia had to come in, measure, weigh, catalogue, give tags, and all the things that came along with exotic familiars that do whatever they please. After a few hours, the newly christened "Binsah" was curled up in Amelia Bones' lap making biscuits with her little paws.

Amelia respected her client's need for anonymity, which Hermione appreciated. Amelia had shown great regret that she couldn't home her at the DoM, but Hermione didn't mind sharing space with Severus.

He was distant and aloof, as usual, showing great attentiveness to his work and his fiancée. There were times Hermione thought that his fiancée, Lily Evans, from their schooling days, was perhaps a bit overly possessive, but she didn't really pay it any heed. She never once did anything untoward. She was perfectly civil; she made tea for them both, they made light conversation, and then they went on their respective sides.

Unlike that wanker, James Potter, who always came by to try and start trouble.

She knew her place.

She always had.

At Hogwarts, they'd made a good team in classes when they had been paired together, but when it came to choice, Severus had always chosen to be with Lily. Everyone knew it. No matter how well they worked together, their relationship would never be anything but strictly professional.

Maybe, at one time, that had disappointed her somewhat as she wondered if there might possibly be someone out there that was meant for her, but her family had taught her that jealousy was the defence of the mediocre. She didn't want to settle. She wanted someone to respect her for who she was and even her unpredictable working life.

If she couldn't have that, then she could bloody well stand alone.

Now that she had Binsah by her side, her life was never dull or lonely. And Binsah wasn't the only one who had come and stayed. She had a Lethifold or two nesting in her cloak rack, a curious chimaera cub that absolutely loved her boot shelf, and a horned serpent living in her healing hot springs. A Fwooper had taken to serenading her in the mornings, and unlike its brethren, its song was not the high-pitched insanity-inducing sound that drove armies mad. One morning, she came into the office to find a baby Graphorn with a bloodied head where someone had sheared off some of its horns.

She'd healed it, of course, and then it decided she was much safer than "out there."

Gods knew what she was going to do when she had a full-grown Nundu and a Graphorn—or a chimaera.

Master Morgan had warned her that the more she used her abilities, the quicker those who needed her would find her and to not be surprised if what came in need of her care wasn't a wizard or witch.

She hadn't expected the variety, and she'd expected them to leave soon after—which apparently wasn't a part of the plan.

So, she decided if they were going to be around, they should at least help pay the rent, so she took gentle shavings of the baby Graphorn's horns (which she did anyway to help him not get stuck to things around the clinic), took claw clippings from the chimaera, collected the Lethifold saliva from the morning "bath" she got every day as a happy greeting, caught a few streams of the horned serpent venom and his shed horns as new ones were always growing under it, and everything in between, giving it to the goblins to find buyers for.

They promised to invest what they made, but it would take a year or so for such investments to pay dividends due to whatever intricate system goblins did to make the most galleons. For their trouble, they got a respectable percentage, and Hermione was okay with that. It was more than fair. She just had to stay afloat until her investments paid off.

Especially for the tooth Binsah left in her boot. She had no idea Nundus shed fangs like a shark.

The cub seemed awfully proud of it, and when Hermione gathered it up so reverently, Binsah did her the favour of shedding a lot of them into her hand with a happy purr, showing off her newly grown teeth that pushed out under them.

Nundus. Who knew?

Still, whenever her clients came in, all of them seemed to know it was business time, and they would pile with each other in the other room and wait for her to be finished. They were strangely empathetic when it came to her needs.

Her next client had clearly been in a fight somewhere—his arm hung limply at his side, and it practically oozed with Dark magic.

A duel, perhaps—in the darkness of Knockturn Alley.

She gestured for him to sit on the bed, and he gingerly disrobed for her to examine him. She took the medicinal magical leeches from their terrarium, sterilised them with a spell, and then placed them gently on the seeping wound.

The leeches were a bit gross to look at, but they did their job well, draining out Dark magic from the flesh and healing the skin together a lot like surgical superglue so it could heal naturally.

As the leech became full, it wobbled, and she let it fall into her hand and put it back into the terrarium. She then put a layer of salve on the damaged area to help with healing and bound it carefully with sterile dressings. She gave him a potion designed to encourage the natural healing process and instructions to avoid doing any Dark magic until it healed, lest it reinfest the wound and then he'd have to come back for additional treatment.

She didn't nag him for using Dark Magic. That wasn't part of her job. They knew, but for their health, she gave them the instructions they would need to heal. Whether they followed them or not would decide if they ended up coming back to her or not.

He moved his arm experimentally and grunted. Without a word, he moved a velvet bag into her hands and nodded, then he was gone.

She opened the bag and found it was packed full of assorted uncut gems.

She walked over to the portal box for Gringotts and placed it in. They would work their magic to get her a fair price, and she never once questioned their rates. There were certain times when she thought they actually gave her a more than fair rate because she showed them trust—something exceedingly few humans did.

She supposed she'd know for sure in a year's time what they were worth when all was said and done.

One thing was for sure, she had a rise of goblin clients that came in for regular checkups and emergent care—something they didn't give Mungos at all. She found it flattering. In return, they gave her permission to use goblin silver from their silversmiths, and they allowed her to pick up some nice healing tools from their coveted goblin catalogue.

She fingered the one galleon piece that had been in the bottom of the bag and placed it aside for the monthly rent—her part of the shop.

It seemed her clients wanted her to stick around. They never said much, often doing her the courtesy of saying little so she wouldn't ever be put in the place of being asked for information while knowing the answer.

And some—

She had a feeling they weren't quite human, even if they wore the shape well enough. Almost as if they used the form as a sort of courtesy.

It didn't matter to her, though.

If they came for healing, they would get it, just as long as they left their wands down and kept their claws and teeth to themselves—well, if they could.

Arguably, it was harder to heal someone's pet moggie than it was a magical beast. Normal animals didn't have the same grasp and understanding of what she was doing or going to do. Magical creatures—somehow—did.

She'd leave such things to veterinarians.

Hermione felt the slight warning tingle of a pre-pounce and turned just in time to get an armful of Nundu and Chimaera cub to the chest. They purrrrrrrrrred loudly, kneading her chest with happiness that she was alone again—and all theirs.

She rubbed faces with them and set them down, walking over to the cabinet to get them their food. She took out the preserved ocean fish, cut off two large slices, and put the rest back. She sprinkled the vitamin mixture she got from the DoM to make sure they had their healthy nutrients and gave them their plates. The two cubs pounced on their meals, growl-snarl-attacking the innocent fillets with murderous sounds.

"You'd think someone was being brutally slaughtered in here," Hermione said with a quiet chuckle. "Good thing I have extensive silencing charms for privacy."

She pulled out a bloody mass of "something" from another cabinet, and her resident Lethifold oozed out of its hiding place to help her dispose of it. The sensation was strange as it engulfed her, its many rows of teeth gliding gently across her skin like a cat's rough tongue, but it never harmed her—even if she got an extra coating of Lethifold spit after a particularly good meal.

After it was finished, the Lethifold seemed to give her cheek a light caress before zipping back to hide in the dark of the room somewhere. She used her magic to collect the Lethifold drool (sans random contaminates) and gathered it into a crystal phial. She put it in a small box with a few Nundu teeth, some Graphorn shavings, and—

Thump!

The baby Graphorn used its tentacles to pull her close for its share of attention, and Hermione went down to the floor to wrestle with him. He gently tickled her face with his, making soft burbling noises, and she rubbed his belly and head. He snuffled her, tickling her arms in just the right spot to make her ears pop out and her tail emerge.

"Gah!" Hermione said. "You little stinker! You did that on purpose, Oys!"

The pearlescent-grey Graphorn wiggled his tentacles as he gummed her tail happily.

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked over to the OTHER cabinet and pulled out a haunch for him, lured him off her tail for the meat after sprinkling it with his vitamins, and let him go to town with gusto.

Oys, short for Oyster, had a coat that resembled the inside of an oyster or mussel shell, and when he was happy, his colours seemed prismatic over the base grey of his skin. He didn't seem to care what he looked like, but he responded to his name well enough.

As time went on, she seemed to understand him a bit better or he understood her a bit better—or maybe both. It seemed the same with Binsah and Haydn the Chimaera. Whether they actually knew their names was unclear, but they seemed to know she needed them. That was enough.

She finished packing the small crate with the reagents she had collected, having set aside some of the best to help pay her rent. She paid partly in galleons and partly in reagents, using most of what she made to help get her carnivores fed.

Hermione hoisted the crate up and carried it into the next room. Severus was looking over receipts and gave her a curt nod.

"Rent for next month," Hermione said, handing him the crate.

Severus looked at the reagents, eyes widening. "This is enough for three."

Hermione smiled. "That's wonderful."

Severus nodded. "You save me a lot of time and effort getting top-quality reagents from other people I don't know. Yours, I know will be nothing short of the highest quality."

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Severus."

"I—"

Hermione turned to look at him. "Yes?"

"If it would not be too much trouble," Severus said, a deep crease forming between his eyes. "If I could get an extra Fwooper feather. I have a custom potion that needs one, and the ones from Conroy and Jameson are not of sufficient quality."

"If you want to come back, you can pick one you can use," Hermione offered.

Severus nodded. "I would appreciate it."

"It is not a problem."

As they crossed the threshold, Hermione heard her beasts scampering to hide in the back room. She chuckled as she went over to a large cedar box. She handed it to him. "Feel free to choose from here."

She saw Canta perched on the rafters of the room peering down at them, her sunny side-up colour standing out against the dark brown wood.

Hermione saw her rustle her tail feathers, and one came drifting down like manna from heaven. She plucked it out of the air and shook her head.

Severus looked up from the box and stared at the one in her hand. "Could I have that one? It's perfect!"

Hermione extended it. "It's all yours."

"You can have an extra month for this," Severus said.

"Are you sure, it's just one feather—" Hermione said.

"It's worth it," Severus said honestly.

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Severus. You're always fair to me."

Severus nodded. "I really appreciate your attention to detail."

They were standing so close, and Hermione could see the softening of the wrinkles around his eyes as he looked at her. His dark black eyes seemed less impenetrable. It looked like he was going to say something when—

"Sev, there you are!" Lily said as she barged in through the curtain without even a knock. She eyed Hermione like a hawk surveying the field, and she stormed up like a force of nature. "For me?"

She snatched the feather out of his hand and stroked it with her fingers, getting her skin oils all over it. The delicate feather crumpled and malformed. She frowned at it. "Pfft, worthless. It won't even pin to a hat like that." She cast it to the floor with a huff of disgust. "Come on, Sev, we have to go meet my parents tonight, remember?"

For the first time, perhaps ever, Hermione saw a flicker of annoyance, even anger in Severus' expression. Just a slight tightening of lips and jaw, the narrowing of his brows to meet between his brow.

"I am here getting a much-needed reagent for a custom potion," Severus said almost too evenly. "I will meet you at the door shortly."

"A reagent—from her? Just order it from Conroy and Jameson," Lily said as she tugged him. "Come on, my parents are waiting."

"I'll get you another," Hermione said quietly as she took the box from him. "Enjoy yourselves."

"We're going to the opera," Lily announced. "Severus is paying for us and my parents to go. Box seats for La Bohème."

"Enjoy your evening out," Hermione said, casting her gaze down. "Goodnight, Severus. Lily."

As the pair walked out, Hermione heard Severus hiss to Lily, "Why did you have to announce it like that? There was no need to tell her where we were going!"

"Is it wrong to be so proud of you, Sev?" Lily's voice pouted. "I want everyone to know how special you are and that you're with me!"

Canta flew down from the rafters and picked up the feather in her beak. She preened it with her beak, a delicate wisp of magic grooming it back into pristine, clean condition. She flew up and landed on Hermione's arm and chirred.

"Thank you, love," Hermione said, pressing a kiss to the bird's head. She took the repaired feather with her fingers and sealed it in a small transport box, spelled it shut, and carried it over to the shop counter, placing the box in the delivery bin as Canta chirred sweetly in her ear.

"You're very sweet," Hermione said.

Canta twisted her face and beak to look startling like a parody of Lily's jealous mug.

Hermione snorted and chuckled as she put her hand over the cheeky bird's head. "Gods, don't do that when there are other people around."

Canta whistled merrily as Hermione walked back to her side of the shop.

When the bell tinkled softly, her charges busted their tails to scurry into the next room as Hermione went to answer the door.

A pale man with an even paler man draped over his shoulder walked in.

The taller one hoisted the other onto one of the treatment beds and shortly collapsed in the nearby chair. He was wounded in many places, his blood thick like black tar as it oozed from his many wounds. The other moaned hoarsely, his skin covered in burns as if half of his body had been hit by a bonfire.

"Can you tell me what happened," Hermione said, running her hands over the one in the bed. "Do you have any wounds I need to know about?"

"I will survive," the one in the chair said. "Please tend to my friend."

Her hands met the familiar contrasting cold and heat that came from vampires. They were both living and dead beings. She switched gears in her head and changed her scans and healing energy as she had been taught under her master.

"It was an ambush," the other vampire said heavily. "Some sort of initiation group. They lured us there, killed all of these people, and tried to frame us—Lucian lost his mind with the blood. It took everything I had to hold him back. I had to break his knees. When they realised we weren't falling for it, they started casting spells to leave our corpses there—we barely managed to escape."

Hermione, however, didn't answer. She was deep in the healing trance, and her hands worked automatically. The Lethifold slithered up her body and took its place over her shoulders, guiding her arms and hands and lending its Dark energy to her care.

"Y-you have a Lethifold," the taller vampire whispered.

Hermione finished mending the wounds, and the shorter vampire finally collapsed on the bed with a moan of relief.

"Did one of us give it to you?"

Hermione tilted her head. "No, he and his friend just showed up on his own one day and never left. He's rather stubborn about staying here."

She paused. "Is there a vampire that has perhaps lost their Lethifold?"

The vampire flushed a slight pink making his skin look almost normal. "Erm, they are given by our kind as courting gifts to ask for a mating bond."

Hermione blinked.

"I am Jakob," the vampire said. "That one is Lucian. We've been brothers of sorts ever since our Turning. He's always had a harder time coping with the bloodlust. He cannot partake of the bloodfruit like the rest of us."

"So he needs blood," Hermione said.

"I will take him to where we can get a willing feed," Jakob said. "I will have to be there to pull him off, though, and I am also weak. Blood fruit isn't going to help me in this case."

Hermione walked over to a storage cabinet and pulled out a blood-red bottle labelled Blood Replenishing Potion. She poured a liberal dose and quaffed it, stoppering the bottle. With a sigh, she cracked her neck. "Okay, you have my permission to take enough to be steady but not enough to endanger my life."

"Y-you—" Jakob stared at her.

"Hurry please, because with the blood replenishing potion, I'm going to start bleeding out my nose and ears from excess blood production pretty quickly."

Jakob swallowed and gestured at her to sit on the other bed. "This is a bit awkward."

"Think of how I feel."

"I am, which makes it even more awkward—" Jakob confessed. "I'm going to approach you from behind and bite your neck. I'll roll your mind enough to dull the pain, but I don't have the energy to do more."

"It's fine," Hermione said.

She felt his cool breath on her neck and then the clasp of his mouth over her neck before the two bright pains pierced her skin. His arms wrapped around her securely, keeping her upright as he fed. He did as he promised, and the pain dulled into a mild pleasure, enough so that she wasn't struggling against the instinctive need to pull away. Then, just as suddenly, he pulled away.

She turned to look at him.

"Please trust me," Jakob said softly. "Your blood is something very special. I'm okay, but he needs it more than I do."

There was something disconcerting about talking to him as he had her blood on his face, but she nodded. He manoeuvred Lucian over to them and pushed his brother's face into her still bleeding neck.

Hermione gasped as he affixed himself to her neck, drinking with a harsh sucking.

But just as she thought Jakob was going to have to pry the other vampire from her neck and get her a pressure bandage, the feeding slowed down, and she felt his tongue slide against the wound as he pulled away.

"Thank you, Lady Hermione," Lucian whispered against her skin.

There was blood on his face, but there was much more sanity in his golden eyes.

She felt her neck, and the wound had already closed as if they had not even bitten her.

She stared at them in question. So many questions.

"Your blood seems to be—very concentrated," Jacob said. "A few swallows and I was fully recovered. I knew Lucian would be sated without having to battle him."

"The madness—" Lucian said. "It's gone."

"For now?" Jakob said.

"I think it's really gone," Lucian whispered. "Do you have a bloodfruit on you?"

Jakob pulled out a small box from his robes and took out a small cherry-sized fruit. He tapped it with his wand and held it out. He gave Lucian a bucket just in case his hypothesis was incorrect.

Jakob bit into it and drained it dry.

Tears flowed down his cheeks. "Brother—the madness is gone. It's really gone."

They clasped each other tightly, sobbing together.

Hermione awkwardly blotted the blood from her neck as she tried to piece together what happened.

They turned to her together, and they knelt at her feet. "Lady Hermione, we owe you a debt we cannot hope to repay, but we will try from now until the day we are no more."

"I did only what any healer would do," Hermione said. "Nothing more."

"No," Lucian said. "No healer outside of the Sang would have done what you did tonight. We will tell our Sire of your mercy and your honour, and the Nation will know you are one to be trusted and protected. But there is something we can do for you here and now." He looked at Jakob.

Jakob nodded. "That isn't just any Lethifold, Lady Hermione," he said. "It's the Lethifold of Lord Sanguini, one of our Council elders. If it found you on its own—protects you as it has—it believes you are his mate. His intended. He will cross the oceans and even Hell itself to be at your side."

Hermione stared as a chain of complex equations floated around her head and then tangled into a massive ball of yarn. Was that why she had felt such a strange longing—a hunger for someone or something she couldn't quite place? At first, she had thought it was repressed feelings that wished Severus could have looked at her with more than simple courtesy, but maybe—maybe it wasn't.

"But—what if there are two of them?" Hermione asked.

"What?" Jakob and Lucian said together in confusion.

The massive Lethifold split into two separate Lethifolds, one having shielded the other, and they waved their "cloak ends" at them.

"This is a bit more complicated than I thought," Jakob admitted.

Lucian shook his head. "The Great Coalition of our Council is between Lords Rada and Sanguini. Their Lines have combined as one as they are sworn together as brothers of the blood."

Jakob grimaced. "It seems that their Lethifolds went out hunting for their mates, and they found you."

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm going to be courted by two ancient vampire lords?"

Lucian and Jakob exchanged glances. "Y-yes?"

Hermione sat down on the side of the bed and swallowed hard. "I'm going to need a pot of very strong tea for this conversation."

When two pale men with long black hair stepped into the vestibule of the shop, each with their hair pulled back in a ponytail and small warbraids dangling from the sides of their face, everyone was watching.

"Tch, old friend," the first one said. "Can you tone it down a notch or eight before we have a public orgy?"

The other tilted his head. "Perhaps I should have worn my Wednesday vest."

Suddenly the customers milling around the shop shook their heads as if to clear them and went back to their business as if they didn't see them there at all.

But Hermione saw them over the rim of her teacup, and she both wanted them to come closer and touch that alabaster skin and herself to be able to vanish into the floor at the same time.

They seemed to float toward her as if their feet didn't really touch the ground.

They had written extensively before this moment, and she felt she knew a lot more than most, but they had said many things could only be discussed in person. They were not the sort of things one wrote down on parchment. She'd agreed to meet them, a part of her nervous and a part excited. Wasn't it every witch's dream to feel wanted and needed? Gods knew her dating life was not very successful. There was always something missing.

"Healer Granger," the pair rumbled together, giving a slight bow.

"I am Rada," the one said.

"I am Sanguini," the other said.

"I remember you—from Professor Slughorn's dinners," Hermione said. "You hid your power."

"As much as having a room full of lustful teenagers snogging each other into oblivion on Slughorn's dinner table would have been amusing, it seemed a wise choice," Sanguini admitted.

"I appreciate your restraint," Hermione said. "There are many people in that room I did not and do not want to have seen in their starkers."

Rada laughed, and it was a rich sound. "May we join you?"

Hermione realised that while this wasn't her shop entirely, they respected what had become her space, and her right to invite or decline to. "Please come in. Can you drink tea?"

Sanguini smiled at her. "We can."

"Thank Merlin," Hermione said with feeling as she went to prepare the tea. "Please come to the back. Unless you wish to sit on clinic beds as chairs."

The two vampires chuckled as they followed her back. They took their seats in the small living space behind the clinic. They both exchanged glances as they saw the curious Graphorn, Nundu cub, chimaera cub, Fwooper, and horned serpent staring at them with no small amount of questions written all over their faces.

"They're guests," Hermione told them as if she understood their questions. "Do be nice, please."

The Nundu cub slinked over first, sniffing wildly and then, in a flash, pounced on Sanguini's Italian dragonhide boot and tried to kill it with extreme prejudice.

"The Nundu cub is Binsah," Hermione said. "The Graphorn is Oys, short for Oyster. Haydn is the chimaera. Baku is the horned serpent, and Canta is the ball of golden feathers staring down at you from the ceiling."

"You have quite the menagerie," Rada said.

"They just find me, somehow," Hermione said as she brought in the tea and set it down for them.

Sanguini looked at the room's enchantments. "You used an undetectable extension charm to make private living quarters. Clever."

"There would never have been enough room to house the cubs without it," Hermione said as she sipped her tea. "If I ever have to leave, it will revert to how it was originally, I'm sure, but I'm sure most everyone thinks I just keep medical supplies back here and a cot."

Rada seemed to have gained a chimaera cub to the lap, and the cub was trying to make a nest. "How much did Jakob and Lucian tell you about the Sang?"

"A little," Hermione said. "A lot if you consider that everything in the books was wrong."

"Well, it would be pretty horrible if we had all of our weaknesses written down for posterity to use against us, I suppose," Sanguini said. "The main question, however, is whether you believe what they say about the Lethifolds."

"Traditionally, a courting gift given by a vampire to their potential mate," Hermione said, remembering. "They are a sign of the gifter's prowess for taming one in the jungle is no small feat. But they had no idea what to say about when a Lethifold just swans off and finds someone for you."

Rada chuckled. "I fear our Lethifolds had grown impatient with our lack of progress," he said. "We have had many other pressing matters both within and out of the Nation. There is a mortal attempting to recruit the Dark to his banner, and it has taken a lot of our concentration to reinforce the bond of our Lines to keep them from answering his call."

"A Lethifold cares not for wars or power," Sanguini said. "Only that it finds the ones most compatible to them and so the most compatible for the one who once wore it. It is a test of sorts for both the suitor and the suited."

"Is it ever wrong?" Hermione asked, doubtful.

Rada tilted his head. "Never. If there is one bit of true magic out there in the Dark it is how a Lethifold both finds us acceptable and then finds if our chosen mate is acceptable. Many an unsuitable match has been exposed via a Lethifold, but I will admit that I did not expect ours to team up and adopt you straight out so strongly that they didn't even come back to let us know."

Both shady-looking Lethifolds hung their "heads" slightly at the admonishment.

"And do you—feel anything?" Hermione asked, her brows creased together.

"Everything," Rada said carefully. "Very, very intensely focused on everything from your scent to the way you hold your head, bite your lip when you are nervous, the steady beat of your heart, how many breaths you've taken—and we long to feel the silken brush of your skin against ours—the scent of blood flowing beneath your skin, the taste buried below it."

"The instinct to claim one's mate is a very powerful thing," Sanguini explained. "Utterly primal. A force even stronger than the hunger for blood. A need stronger than the pull of opposing charges."

"You're fighting it now, aren't you?" Hermione whispered.

"Very much so," Rada said carefully. His eyes closed, and there was just a subtle glint of fang. "If you were a vampire, we would most likely already be in bed with blood being shared."

"I've had lovers before but—" Hermione flushed. "I will admit I have never wanted to touch someone as badly as I do you both right now."

"Oh, my darling," Sanguini said softly. "You may touch us as much as you wish, whenever and wherever you wish, but if you touch us now, I fear that it will quickly lead to certain other pressing things that we are both trying very hard not to do on our very first date."

"What if I want you to?" Hermione whispered.

"You must be very clear, Hermione," Rada said. "There can be no misunderstandings."

"If you give in to this, we will not be leaving this room for a very long time. We will drink from you, and you from us, and a bond will be formed in between a rather active libido," Sanguini said. "We would never hurt you. We could not."

"You'd Turn me?" Hermione asked.

"No," Rada said. "This would be—a first stage. We would be able to sense your thoughts and you ours. Memories would trickle in slowly to allow you to come to know us better. Passion would make it stronger. But Turning is a formal magic that cannot be accidental. We would only do it when you were ready to make it forever, or if there was a previous agreement—if your life was in danger."

"And if I refuse forever?" Hermione asked.

Both vampires closed their eyes. "We would honour your wishes, break the bond, and withdraw from your life."

"Completely?" Hermione asked.

"To have you so close and not have you would be—unbearable," Rada said gravely. "We would hole ourselves away from the world until your natural death—to prevent us from stopping yours out of pure desperation."

"I've never had anyone want me that much," Hermione said.

"Here we are," Sanguini said. "We have been waiting over a thousand years for this moment."

"I would touch you, if you would allow it," Hermione said formally. "I understand what that will mean to you. I give my permission."

Both vampires unbuttoned their vests and shirts and pulled them off as they guided her hands to their bodies. Hermione caressed their faces with a look of wonder, staring into the dark brown eyes that held the shimmering gold of magic as a deep crimson blended with it.

Sanguini summoned his magic as the settee became a very large bed, and the startled cubs and Graphorn quickly scurried out of the way.

Hermione gently pressed her mouth to his as Rada tenderly kissed her neck.

Sanguini let out a soft moan as his fangs lengthened in instinctive need, his eyes bleeding full crimson on black. He had her flipped on her back in a flash of movement, his fangs bared as he bore down on her neck, but even in that moment, his teeth clicked but a fraction of an inch from her skin as he gently brushed his cheek against hers.

"I am Mihail," he whispered against her skin. "I would have you say my true name before we are one."

Hermione pressed her palm to his face and looked into his eyes. "Mihail," she repeated. She looked at Rada, saw his own struggle against instinct and hunger for so much more than blood. "Rada."

She tilted her head and closed her eyes.

She gasped as their power rolled over her, flooding her mind as their fangs buried into her flesh and sought her arteries, and her blood came forth to feed them. Her eyes fluttered at the rising pleasure of it, her body arching as their minds brushed against hers as if asking for permission.

Yet, she consented, letting herself go as her body arched with the intense feeling of their minds crashing together, and their soul-deep need filled the gaping chasm of loneliness she hadn't even realised was vast. She knew at that moment, there would not be an option to say no. She had found home, and she would fight tooth and claw to keep it.

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione exclaimed as she pulled her hands away. " I just wanted to touch them!"

Rada touched the area of smooth skin where his scars had vanished. His body was covered in then, but where she had placed her hands, the scars had faded into flawless pale skin.

"That one was given to me by my old Sire. For sparing Ambrose the whip. He did not survive the first hundred years." Rada drew her hand to his scars. "This one was in battle with Mihail, when my Sire grew bored and bade us fight with sun blades until one of us bled."

Hermione gasped as the scar healed into pristine skin.

"These are from a great battle against the Romans who conquered our ancient people for their emperor," Rada said. "This was my death wound that gave my Sire the opening to bind me to his Line."

One by one his scars disappeared, and Rada seemed younger for each one.

"But, you said you and Mihail share different Lines," Hermione said.

"We do," Sanguini said. "My Sire gave me to Lord Kushim as a treaty offering to help bring in blood for him to feed upon. I was to be kept pristine, lest my looks not lure in the proper food, and I was made to seduce and bring in both woman and man, young and old, to Lord Kushim's banquets. Where he and his favoured ones would feast."

"The lucky would die," Rada said grimly, pressing Hermione's hand to his heart. "The unlucky would be Turned and made 'useful'."

"So when Lord Kushim made you fight with sun blades," Hermione said with realisation, "it was understood that you couldn't scar Mihail, lest you ruin his usefulness."

Rada nodded. "A fate that would have caused me to have far more scars upon my body," he said.

"What happened to your Sires?" Hermione asked. "They don't seem the type to give up what they find useful if not for a more useful reason."

"They failed to adapt," Sanguini said. "Civilisation and its people changed, but they did not. They underestimated mortals and what they would tolerate before fear no longer made them meek and instead made them angry and uncontrollable. They, like many of the ancient Line progenitors, perished."

"So that was why the Sang formed the Council," Hermione realised.

Both vampires nodded.

"There were a few masters of the Lines before us, but in the end, Rada and myself became the first Coalition that teamed together and took care of our people—not just ourselves. Others followed suit, and these newer heads of the Lines that survived teamed together to form the first Council. While not all Lines are altruistic, we have struggled to not only do what is best to keep us off the radar of the world and keep the pitchforks and flaming weapons at bay. We did not truly have great success until the discovery of the bloodfruit in what is now South America—whose fruits allow us to feed without hunting humans. For most vampires anyway."

"Lucian," Hermione said.

Rada nodded. "It was a very great gift you gave him—to heal the imbalance that prevented him from being able to consume the bloodfruit. It has won you—much respect amongst the Sang. As a healer of honour and compassion regardless of one's species."

"You deserve to have a less cramped space in which to live and work," Sanguini said. "Not that this makeshift bedroom isn't adorable in its own way."

He pointed his thumb to the sleeping cubs at the foot of the bed, lumps hiding under the Lethifolds and duvet.

"And where would I live and work if—this relationship works?" Hermione asked.

"Jakob and Lucian have spoken with their Sire, Lord Nikolai, and they have secured permission to give you a place in Craster, in Northumberland, where you can build a clinic and home for both you and your growing beast family. It will be yours to build as you see fit—when you are ready."

"Oh but—I couldn't possibly impose—" Hermione protested.

"This is a debt of honour, Hermione," Rada said kindly. "Lord Nikolai was a healer when he was Turned so long ago. You saved two of his Line from being framed for murder and you cured one of the blood curse that prevented him from feeding safely on bloodfruit, something he had been working on a solution for many years. It is a small token of gratitude from the Line of Nikolai. More so that if you continue healing those that come to you, you will be an invaluable asset to both keep and protect us from harm."

"I'll never be able to keep Binsah out of the smoked kippers and other fish," Hermione said.

Rada chuckled. "It would be our great honour and pleasure to help you get established there. When you are ready, of course. I know you have ties here."

Hermione looked down, visibly discomfited.

"What troubles you?" Sanguini asked, caressing her cheek.

"I'm just—" Hermione said. "I'm not used to not having to do things all by myself. Being so important to someone is strange to me."

"Draga mea," Sanguini said as he pulled her to his chest. "You will become so used to being valued that you will wonder why you ever put up with less."

"I know I should be frightened of how quickly I've fallen for you both," Hermione said shyly. "I have never felt so comforted. I'm sure I'll lose points in Witch Weekly's relationship column for being so naive, but it feels right."

Sanguini smiled. "We have the advantage of accepting a Lethifold's choice as a time-honoured, flawless given. I can understand how different that may seem to you, but the bond between mates amongst the Sang is sacred and cherished. We are biologically programmed to do what we can to ensure it is consummated because to lose such a gift is—beyond criminal."

"There are stories that a scorned and mistreated gypsy from bygone days once cursed the Sang to have this—not so much to torture them (even though it can be torturous to try and ignore it) but to instil respect for life back into the vampire species. Those like Lord Kushim and Sargon, who were great leaders while human and mortal, became something far more sinister once they were Turned. Yet once we started having mates—those we imprinted on with the very essence of our souls—we started to care more about those outside of ourselves. We had to. And even though Rada and I had only each other as comforts from the very beginning, our bond had been formed before the "curse" would have driven us to bind as mates."

"So, there is some flexibility in the matings?" Hermione asked.

"We are a long-lived species," Rada said. "It is quite common to have multiple partners when we are as old as we are. Mihail serves as an ambassador to the mortals, and he must often wine and dine as they say. But it is not the same as having this—"

Rada reached out to touch Hermione's cheek, and a flow of warm magic tingled down her spine as a gasp escaped her mouth. "That is the difference between mere casual sex and a true marriage of body and soul. There is no comparison. Mihail and I were lucky to have found each other in our oppression, but finding someone we can both share our lives with? That takes a very special kind of person. You."

Rada lowered his mouth to hers, teasing her tongue to play with his, and she let out a soft moan as he lay her back on the bed again. "Shall we show our beloved just how much she pleases us, Mihail?"

"Mmm," Sanguini said as he descended upon her nipple. "Let's."

Hermione let out a shriek of ecstasy so loud that it made her subconsciously glad she had sound wards already set up.

Hermione found it a bit difficult to walk into her clinic, let alone tend to the next patient that came in, but she somehow managed to do so.

The marathon of highly pleasurable "getting to know you" had imprinted the two vampire lords right into her DNA, and she could feel their presence like the weight of a Lethifold across her shoulders.

It was comforting in a way that she'd only dreamed in a sort of teenage wish the heart made while "everyone else" seemed to be getting into a relationship while she had been alone.

She'd dated while apprenticing with Master Morgan, but there was not the air-sucking magic that seemed to take her breath away the moment their touch alighted upon her skin. In school, the only one she'd ever been interested in was Severus, but that ship had sailed long ago—back when he would drop everything to cater to Lily's every whim, no matter how minor.

Privately, she'd hoped that one day she'd find someone like him—someone who cared enough to do so much for her but also someone she could do just as much for and have them appreciate her efforts. Severus seemed like he would appreciate small kindnesses—at least, she thought so.

Looking at it from the outside, she had no idea what he saw in Lily, but if he was getting satisfaction in it somewhere, then she couldn't blame him, really.

Maybe, behind closed doors, Lily was a kinder and more compassionate sort of lover rather than a constantly hovering jealous dragon jenny.

If she were honest, when her mind tried to wrap around one vampire lord, let alone two being interested in her, she sort of curled up in a ball and babbled in Yiddish. But both Sanguini and Rada were attentive, considerate lovers who truly valued what she wanted to do with her life. That alone meant so much to her.

They didn't want a mere trophy wife. They wanted a true companion who would be there for the long haul.

Not so unexpectedly, her latest client was a vampire sporting a number of nasty wounds that looked like he'd been viciously mauled by something considerably bigger and angrier than most.

They insisted on calling her Lady Hermione instead of Healer Granger, but after some bonding time with Sanguini and Rada, she had come to understand it was ingrained in their society as a title of respect.

At least they weren't calling her Mudblood or whatever else as certain Slytherins liked to call her. For whatever reason, though, she still had quite a few Dark wizards and witches that would come in for treatment, and they would always pay her quite well.

If she had any doubts, and honestly she rarely did anymore, she'd just throw the little payment sacs into the Dark leech terrarium for a day and let them feed on what might be in there.

But it seemed that certain Dark magic-oriented folk didn't wish to lose their healer anymore than they wanted to break their own wands.

It just didn't make sense.

She did wonder why there were so many of them coming in with obvious Cruciatus damage—residual muscle tics, convulsive movements, severe nerve misfires. It made her wonder what in the world the Dark populace was going through and seemingly all the time.

And what did they do for relief before her? Just suffer?

Rada had given her a bloodfruit tree for her back room, and the Graphorn performed regular maintenance by aerating the roots and soil and watering it for her, so she always had some on hand for her vampiric patients. She gave her latest a few, and he gave her such a look of profound relief that she couldn't help but smile.

"Just make sure to change the bandages every day and apply a fresh layer of salve. It will let your natural biology kick in and heal the rest," she said with a smile.

He gave her a small bag for payment, thanked her again, and exited the clinic.

Hermione smiled and took a slow wobble to her chair where she sipped her mug of tea with enthusiasm. She was really glad that vampire saliva healed all the bite marks and bruises because she did not particularly want to explain how she'd suddenly gained a purple neck and extensive bites.

No matter how pleasurable it had been getting them.

She'd never been one to believe in love at first sight or fate, but maybe—

Maybe magic had other plans for her.

Whenever Rada or Sanguini visited, which they did in alternating turns most times so someone was back home keeping the rabble in line, they made more of an effort to "fit in" by dressing down and looking more—

How could she put it?

Common.

Ordinary.

Less prone to make people either instinctively piss themselves, grovel, or otherwise lustfully go down on each other in public.

Sanguini said that it was a talent his Sire and subsequent master had valued greatly. It was the greatest sort of manipulation to get what one wanted if you didn't want to threaten to burn down the village just for one cow or land or—whatever was valuable at the time.

Rada had become an internal Sang diplomat in that he knew how to read people to know when they meant something. He convinced slaves, thralls, and others—to do exactly what his Sire wanted them to do, lest he have to punish them.

Sanguini was the outer diplomat, courtesan, and—master of the more sensual ways of persuasion.

But in the end, Rada and Sanguini had found comfort in each other thanks to their treatment by Lord Kushim, and they learned how to protect their people from the inside and the out. By the time Lords Kushim and Sargon had succumbed to the arrogance of their frozen lack of adaptation, both Sanguini and Rada had been ready. They'd gone underground, let the violent ones fight for dominance and kill each other off, and then quietly started what would become the foundation of what would one day become the Sang society—

Making laws to protect their people from themselves and the outside world.

Carving out what would become the Undead Nation—a place where the undead and Dark beings and creatures could live in relative peace.

It wasn't an utopia, but it was a functional society that took care of its people. The Council voted together on what was to be done if one of their laws were broken or if some other circumstances were at play. But the majority of Sang society believed the Council were the ultimate boogeymen that would punish any and all infractions, regardless if they were true.

In a way, it ensured that those who wanted to do horrible things would seriously reconsider such plans before stepping out of line.

And both Rada and Sanguini admitted that sometimes they had to do some pretty horrible things to impress upon the cocky younger upstarts about why they were elders and not just some group of greying old men and women playing at being rulers.

Like any society that reaped in splendour after the fact, blissfully unaware of all who had died to make it so, the younger generations were oblivious to the history that had created the Undead Nation to begin with—a mistake they often paid dearly for one way or another.

They worried, she knew, that once she found out the truth of their many not-so-beautiful deeds that she would be unable to separate them from the time and the reasons for which they were done. But Hermione had seen and healed the scars that the past had gifted them, some quite literally. She knew she could not be a moral or ethical judge on what had to be done to survive in far darker times than this one.

They treated her like she was made of fine porcelain. Like at any moment, some slight movement might injure her. In many ways, that proved to her that they, like the humans they once were, were capable of greatness. Sometimes terrible, but still great. They could be altruistic or selfish, kind or cruel, and ultimately capable of being vulnerable to emotion.

And she could feel the depths of their devotion after their initial bonding—their fears, their needs. Yet still, they always put her first.

It meant a lot to her—feeling that reassuring presence in the back of her mind.

"I just don't think inviting everyone in Diagon Alley is appropriate for a wedding," Hermione heard from the store side of the shop. Severus was, she could tell, quite annoyed.

"Of course, we should invite as many people as possible, Sev!" Lily insisted. "Our shop is going to be a mainstay of Diagon Alley. They should all be a part of our wedding!"

Hermione cringed at the size of a wedding that would include just the Diagon Alley shopkeepers—not even including the other random people. Where would such a thing even be held? Think of all the food and drink that would require!

Vampires, at least, were very pragmatic about their relationships. If the last step of the bond was cemented, it was a mating bond, and a mating bond was what was required to be "married" amongst the Sang. If you wanted to have a reception or some other "formal" affair after, it was possible, but it was entirely optional. The important part was the fully formed bond between mates—they guaranteed that one's then-potential mate was their actual mate. Anything else was gravy. Or icing. Or blood frosting. Whatever.

Hermione, in all honesty, wanted a quiet and small sort of affair. She didn't have any close friends, mostly colleagues. And the list of people who would be willing to share space with beast cubs and vampires was very likely a short if not nonexistent list. The most she could handle was a DoM party, where the people there would at least understand the meaning of "different."

If they could live with dragonbats, wyverns, and all manner of beasts, surely they could handle a vampire wedding.

She wasn't sure what was going to happen in that regard, but she did at least tell her suitors that, if it came down to saving her life, she gave them permission to do whatever they had to do. She would prefer to make the choice of when on her own, but she knew enough about them through the blood bond that they would suffer eternally should she die without even having a chance to save her.

As she saw it, there were far worse things than being undead if someone was out to kill her and being Turned saved her life.

She wasn't ready to die just yet.

She really didn't see Severus liking the idea of a giant flamboyant wedding, either, but—

Maybe as long as Lily was happy, he was happy too.

At least she hoped so.

Why else would he marry her at all?

Vampire courting was, at the least, so much simpler. It was hard to be in denial about the validity of emotions when you could feel them as strongly as your own. Perhaps, it was because if you were going to spend an extremely long vampiric lifetime with someone, there couldn't or shouldn't be secrets. Open relationships were fine if that was what was on offer from the start, but binding yourself to an unhealthy relationship for hundreds of years or more seemed—well, not a wise choice.

"Do vampires just fall in love and marry?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, much like humans do," Rada said, "but if the one they fall in love with is not their mate, there will always be that cloud hanging over them—the worry about what happens when they do meet the one or more than one, what then?"

"Complicated," Hermione agreed.

"Very," Sanguini said with a brief nod. "Most vampires, however, are rather pragmatic about such things. With such a long lifespan there is more flexibility, but—there is never this comfort we have. It will be a matter of faith much as they have in mortal relationships—prone to misunderstanding and miscommunication."

"One advantage to mortal weddings is that there is divorce," Rada said. "There is no breaking a mating bond once established. But—nor would anyone wish to."

Hermione admitted that she had no idea how to even consider a long lifetime with someone so intimately, but—if the beginning of the courtship was any indicator—

She had a feeling it wouldn't be horrible at all.

As she heard the increasingly heated discussion going on in the shop, Hermione took that moment to shut the dividing door to the clinic and brew a pot of tea. She could always ask Severus how his day was later—when he was less likely to melt people into grease spots on the floor with the power of his scorn.

Foot traffic into The Moonlit Lily Apothecary increased substantially with crowds of invited guests dropping in to offer congratulations and reserve their spots to the upcoming nuptials. Owls went in and out almost constantly, and potions sales were clearing shelves completely.

Severus, it seemed, was working increasingly longer hours as he fought to keep up, and whatever Lily was off doing somewhere was not exactly helping him brew.

When the shop finally closed for the day, her clinic stayed open, but instead of darkening the shop and going home to get some rest, Severus was still there burning the midnight oil, working both his body and his sanity into an early grave.

Hermione sighed, poured an extra mug of tea, and brought it over to the other side.

"Hey," she said to his back as he was stocking more potions.

Severus turned as if expecting a dragon and seemed genuinely surprised to see her standing there. "Sorry, I was a little busy. Did you need something?"

Hermione shook her head and offered him the tea. "Here, it looks like you could use a cuppa."

Severus' tense wrinkled face eased as he accepted the steaming mug of tea. "Bless you," he said fervently, nursing it.

Hermione pulled out a wrapped parcel and handed it to him.

He looked at it with a suspicious eyebrow, but when he opened it, his eyes widened. "A chip butty?"

"I overdid it tonight. There was an extra. You look like you need it more than I need it for lunch tomorrow," Hermione said.

He looked at her like she'd just given him a glass of cool water after he'd been wandering the desert for days. "Thank you," he said, sitting on one of the shipping crates and digging in with gusto.

"How are you doing, Severus," Hermione asked. "The shop has been so busy, I even had people popping on my side asking if I had potions. I was like, 'Can't you read?' as there is this rather giant sign on the door that says clinic."

Severus chuckled. "Sorry, it's been bloody chaos out here. Lily wants this enormous grand wedding, the likes of which even royalty would be jealous of, and I would far rather it be a much smaller affair. Family over for a nice dinner. A few close friends. Not that I've had time to make any, so the list would be pretty small from my side of the aisle."

"Seems like you've invited the whole of London," Hermione observed as she pointed to the teetering stack of owl letters.

Severus groaned. "It just seems all so unnecessary," he said. "We don't even know half of these people. She wants to reserve this fancy restaurant, some place called La Dame et la Citronnaie for the reception, and it'll be at least thirty galleons or more per head. And that's just for the food."

"You know, we grew up together in Cokeworth, Lily and I," Severus confided. "Working class meals were normal. It was a very good day if we could get rump steak and chips with some fried onions and peas. Mum would get some with mushrooms and tomato. On Sundays we'd have a roast chicken. If we were really lucky we'd get some tinned salmon. If it was Christmas we might see the coveted peaches and cream. But usually, we bought the cheap sausages, or had beans on toast, that sort of thing. Now, she just wants only the best and finest that can be had. I can well afford it now, but I feel just fine with fish and chips or—a simple chip butty."

"But this wedding is really going to clean me out," he admitted. "I thought I was saving up for a nice home, but I guess it's all going to the wedding."

He reached over to a stack of ornate parchments and handed her one. "This is the wedding menu. It's absolutely atrocious."

Moët & Chandon Dom Pérignon 1961

Mignonette d'huîtres de Coffin Bay

La Salade Florette Mer et Terre

Filet mignon de bœuf de Kobe poêlé

Poulet de Bresse farci à la truffe noire

Queues de homard pochées au beurre avec mousse de caviar

Pommes de terre La Bonnotte

Asperges blanches rôties aux herbes de Provence

Gratin d'épinards

Carottes rôties au beurre au miel et à l'ail

Assiette de fromages français

Gâteau de mariage au chocolat blanc fourré à la framboise noire et feuilles d'or comestibles

"I wish I had some great wisdom to tell you," Hermione said with a whistle as she handed back the menu. "But I was never one of the young witches with her face in Witch Weekly planning her ideal wedding. My suggestions would not go over well. I prefer simple and small."

"Tch," Severus clucked his tongue and crumpled the paper from the sandwich. "Thank you. I seem to have forgotten to feed myself."

"As your token healer, I must recommend you get some sleep or you'll make some brewing mistake that will not make you happy," Hermione said. She tilted her head with concern as she noticed a red, raw-looking wound on his hand. "That'll get infected if you are brewing with that, may I?"

Severus seemed to consider other options. "I can just cover it—"

Hermione sighed. "I'm a healer, not a quack," she said softly. "Please, I wouldn't want you to have to take a day off to get to Mungos amidst all this chaos."

Severus sighed. "Very well, if it wouldn't be a bother."

Hermione gently took his hand in hers and placed her other over it. A warm rush of magic spread through her hands as she gently blew on the wound as a vibrant green fog came from her mouth. The fog moved over and into the wound, and the skin knit together cleanly without a scar.

Hermione smiled at him as she pulled her hands away.

SLAP!

Hermione went tumbling backwards with a crash as she fell into a crate of various potions waiting to be shelved. The bottles smashed with cracking noise as the potions mixed and seethed together into a noxious brew.

"You stay away from my Severus, you whore!" Lily's voice screeched.

"Lily! What the bloody hell?! She was healing my hand!"

"She was TOUCHING YOU!"

"To heal me!"

"She can do that without TOUCHING YOU!"

Hermione's body was shaking violently as the potions seeped into her wounds, her muscles twitching as she foamed at the mouth. Her features were changing. Sharp fangs pushed out from her gums. A muzzle formed from her human face. Bones cracked, shifted. A velvety coat of fur sprouted over her skin. A long, muscular tail burst from her posterior, lashing wildly.

Two dark "cloaks" frantically tugged at her, trying to pull her out of the smouldering potions mixture.

There was a loud CRACK of Apparition, and the mad pattering of feet from the clinic side.

"H—Hermione!" Sanguini cried as he rushed to her side. He lifted her like she was nothing and set her where it was clean. As if her appearance was nothing out of the ordinary, he stroked her face and rapidly forming muzzle. "I'm here, love, look at me," he begged. He stared at the fizzling potions and grimaced. "I'm going to drink from you. Hold on."

He bared his fangs and sank them into her throat, and he drew her blood into his mouth. He spit the blood out, and it was laced in a strange potion.

"Get that monster OUT of here, Sev!" Lily shrieked at the top of her lungs. "STUPEFY!" she cast her spell at Hermione's violently convulsing form.

Suddenly, Hermione's body tensed, and she flung Sanguini off her with a sonic shriek, her teeth gnashing as they jutted out further, her body transforming even more.

Sanguini slid across the floor and slammed into the counter. He staggered to try and get up, but failed. He bit his hand and slammed it to the ground. "RADA!" He bellowed.

A pull of power blew out from him, and there was another CRACK of Apparition from the clinic side. Another black-haired, pale-skinned man rushed in.

"I can't calm her," Sanguini hissed. "You must do it!"

Rada pulled on his power and pinned her transforming wing to place his hand over her head. "Easy—easy—calm—libraries, calm breezes, the scent of parchment and ink, the sea— breathe with me, love. We are with you. We will always be with you."

The half-transformed dragonbat stared into his face, her panicked eyes less so.

Rada bit his hand, letting the blood drip. Her tongue slowly moved against his skin. Sanguini joined him, biting his hand and placing it near Rada's. Hermione slowly lapped at the blood. And the strange potion oozed out the wound on her neck as the blood magic purged all that did not belong.

Hermione let out a low whuff of air, and her body shrank in on itself, reverting into a human form. Sanguini pressed his mouth to the wound on her neck, licking across the bite mark to close the skin, and Hermione went completely limp in his arms. Her body seemed too utterly spent to even do the smallest bit more. Sanguini cradled her to his body as the Lethifolds swaddled her tightly, and he carried her into the clinic side, flipping the sign on the door to closed as he passed by it.

Rada turned to face Lily and Severus—Lily who was clinging to Severus as if she had been the one convulsing on the floor and wanted comfort and Severus with an armful of his witch, unsure what to even do let alone say.

Rada's face twisted with scorn. "Attacking a healer," Rada said with gritted teeth. "I cannot even begin to describe the amount of disgust I feel for you.

Though he clearly wanted to say more, he turned on his heel and walked into the clinic side, closing the dividing door behind him.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione murmured into Sanguini's chest as she nestled between the two concerned vampires.

"Don't be," Sanguini said. "I can now claim I've been thrown across the room by a dragonbat. Think of the great stories that will make."

Hermione chuckled, pressing her face into his chest. "I've never shown more than ears and a tail before. I had no idea it would progress further. I figured I just didn't get enough of Master Morgan's breath. Does this change anything for you?"

Rada soothed her arm. "Why would it?"

"Because I'm hideous," Hermione whispered.

Rada snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. You can feel the care and desire we have for you, your ability to transform into a giant frugivore does not change anything."

"I knew when I accepted Master Morgan's apprenticeship that I would most likely be sacrificing any chance at a normal life."

"Normal is rarely more than an opinion," Rada said. "Lord Nikolai believes that it was the dragonbat bloodline inside you that allowed you to cure Lucian. The overriding need for fruit combined with the one for blood created a balance he sorely needed. It also explains why your blood satisfies faster than the typical human. Without those factors that made you what you are today, you would not have been able to help those like Lucian. How could we do anything but appreciate the serendipity of fate that made this so?"

"And I do admit to a certain arousal of the thought of a sexy dragonbat in the Sang," Sanguini purred into her ear, and Hermione's libido shot to eleven.

"But you—" Hermione stammered. "But you changed me back. If you find—but if you mean—"

Rada touched her chin and a thrill of warmth and electricity flooded her system. "Simple practicality. If you'd shifted into a dragon bat, you'd have flattened the store and the clinic, and your friend would not have been very happy."

"If you are going to shift, it should be on your own terms," Sanguini said. "Not because your body has been exposed to toxic potion combinations to save your life."

Hermione's eyelids fluttered as Sanguini sucked upon her pulse point as he kissed her neck. "Ooh," she whispered.

"I'm sorry for what happened," Severus said as he handed her a basket of assorted fruit and juices. "I didn't know what you'd like, but—I've seen you favouring fruit since you started working here."

Hermione took the basket with a tentative smile. "Thank you, Severus. I guess—I suppose it was easy for her to think I was being forward to her wizard," she said. "I'm sorry if I caused strife between you."

Severus shook his head. "She was out of line—I don't know what has gotten into her. I've never been unfaithful, but she watches me as though at any moment a rampaging horde of witches are going to bust down the door and use me as some kind of sex toy."

Hermione stifled a giggle, and Severus grimaced.

"Sorry," he apologised.

"Don't be," Hermione said. She took the basket and put it on the nearby counter. "Are you happy?"

Severus seemed to think about it for some time. "Yeah. I've had a crush on her since I was a little kid. Everything else is just me reconciling the childhood dream with the reality of being an adult, I think."

"As long as you're happy, Severus," Hermione said with a smile. "I only see the bursts of possessive fury, but I don't know Lily at all outside of that. She and I never really spoke at school. For all I know, she is the kindest and more generous soul when there aren't any other females around."

Hermione took one of the pears off the top and bit into it. "They're wonderful. Thank you."

The corner of Severus' mouth tugged into a small smile. "I'm glad you like them.

Hermione finished the pear and put the core into the terrarium, and the Dark leeches swarmed all over the tasty treat, radiating a warm, Dark energy.

There was a tinkle of the chime as someone entered the clinic and Hermione gave him the signal to sit down. "I'll be back in a moment."

Severus watched with no small wonder as a man he knew was a Dark wizard of no small renown walked in and sat down on the treatment bed. Hermione pulled the privacy curtain closed, and after a few minutes, Severus felt a wave of the same healing energy she had used on his hand—

A deep warmth that ran down his spine and caused his breath to catch. It felt familiar. Like dipping into a warm, welcome bath. With some surprise, he saw two living shrouds bringing her various objects around the clinic—jars, bandages, and whatever else she required. After a while, the curtain pulled back, and the wizard nodded silently, passing her a small pouch before leaving.

Not a word had passed between them, yet Hermione gave her patient a small smile and nod as he left. And, despite all that he knew about Dark wizards, the sour-looking man gave her a very small, almost imperceptible nod of thanks.

As the wizard left, the Lethifolds turned the bed, cleaned it off, and left it in pristine condition for the next patient. It was—amazing.

Something stirred inside him at the gentle brush of her magic—something he had never felt with Lily. It was like a caress. It was like finding home. He wondered if that was what everyone felt when being healed by a healer such as her—

She had a halo about her—a mystical quality of magic that seemed like a shining beacon—not of light alone but a mixture balance of light and Dark. Like so many healers were supposed to be—she was neutrality itself.

The door tinkled again, and Hermione slumped a bit, but when she opened the door, her whole face seemed to light up with unconcealed joy.

"Master!"

"Hello, my child," the dark-faced man said, his eyes a deep coffee brown so dark they seemed almost black. He had a mane of hair that seemed more like the king of beasts than human hair, and there was a roll of antiquity about him—yet not quite like a vampire. Somehow different.

Hermione tucked herself against him, and the man promptly enfolded her with a protective encircle of his arms as if they were wings.

"I heard about your almost shift, dear one," he said. "I'm here to check up on you."

Hermione flushed. "Does everyone know?"

"The ones that matter," the man said with a twitch of a smile.

"Master, this is Severus, Severus Snape. He runs the Midnight Lily," Hermione introduced. "Severus, this is my Master, Master Manfred Morgan.

The two living shrouds zipped over and seemed to bow to the man.

Hermione chuckled. "These are Walter and Barbara," she said.

"Two Lethifolds," Manfred said with a knowing smile. "How good that you have two mates to keep you on your toes for the whole span of your extraordinarily long life."

Hermione flushed.

"Healer, not born yesterday," Manfred said archly. "I was, however, born this sexy."

Hermione laughed. "I think Amelia would prefer it if you kept that to yourself."

"One cannot possibly hope to bottle such primal magnetism," Manfred purred.

Hermione took a plump dragon fruit from the basket and offered it to him. "Severus was checking in on me," Hermione said as they sat down together. She poured a mug of tea for both them and herself.

Manfred took her hands in his, and Severus felt a powerful rush of magic. "Breathe in, my lovely," he commanded.

Hermione closed her eyes and took in a deep breath as Manfred breathed out a cloud of purple mist. Hermione shuddered once and she immediately sprouted two bat funnelled ears and a long sinuous tail.

"I'm surprised you haven't fully shifted, pet," Manfred said gently. "But, I'm sure your friend here appreciates that you did not level his store."

Hermione flushed as Manfred let go of her hands. "It's never happened so abruptly before—or so violently."

"Powerful emotions mixed with life-threatening potions can trigger something in the body to defend itself from all comers—and what is more impervious than our species, hrm?"

Hermione looked down slightly. "I'm not quite there yet."

"Soon, I'm sure," Manfred said. "Preferably somewhere out in the open when you are in control. He winked at her. "And not inside whilst experiencing the throes of utmost pleasure."

Hermione blushed bright red.

"You are not allowed to be in the same room as Mihail," Hermione hissed.

Manfred smiled mischievously. "Why stop now?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Did anyone survive?"

"Someone had to repopulate the Wizarding World after the World War."

"I'm so not listening to you," Hermione said, pointing an accusatory finger.

"Aw, but I'm so interesting," Manfred said with a pout.

"You cannot fool me, Master," Hermione said. "I know you are happily mated with batlings on the way."

"Not yet, but—soon," Manfred said with a smile. "She cannot resist my seductive crooning forever."

"You're the Master Morgan?" Severus whispered in awe.

"Hrm?" Manfred said, tilting his head. "You've heard of me? I fear if you want to have my batlings, you'll have to fight my current mate to the death, and she's very wily with sharp teeth."

Severus startled. "Erm, no. I mean I have heard of you, but that's not what I wanted—"

"Master, you're horrible," Hermione chided. "Not everyone wants to have your batlings."

"I don't see why not," Manfred said archly. "I am the best you will ever see."

Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose. "This is why you aren't allowed out of the DoM much," she said with a groan.

"That and people just keep injuring themselves in bad ways, as I'm sure you've learned up here," Manfred said. "I left Oldive to man the fort as the humans say. I'm sure he can keep the place from blowing up for a day."

"Possibly," Hermione supposed, "I noticed an increase in Dark wounds lately. All similar. As if—people are using Cruciatus on each other all the time. So much that there is nerve and tissue damage. Other things too. Very similar. They don't talk to me about it, as is expected, but it cannot be a coincidence that so many are coming in with the same sort of afflictions.

"That is rather disturbing," Manfred admitted. "And you, Severus? Have you noticed any increase in Dark countering remedies or salves?"

Severus startled. "Some, but—with the wedding coming on we've had so much traffic in and out. The shelves are practically empty every day. From all the areas."

"Good for business, bad for patterns," Manfred said. "A pity. I hope I don't need to beat a dead hippogriff in telling you to be careful, love. If you were to be caught and tortured, you will most definitely shift, and you will probably have the primordial bloodlust long before the more modern frugivore nature kicks in."

Hermione grimaced. "I try to be, Master. I haven't had any problem here at the clinic."

Manfred frowned. "But your shift. It happened here—at the clinic."

"It wasn't a patient, Master," Hermione said.

Manfred narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean? Where did it happen? Who attacked you?"

Severus tried his best to merge with the ground.

"I was healing Severus' hand," Hermione said. "He had a cut on his hand that he uses to brew his potions. I offered to heal it. His fiancée came in and saw us touching. She—believed I was making moves on her wizard."

Manfred blinked. His dark gaze centred on Severus. "And where were you when all of this happened, child?"

Severus swallowed hard. "Frozen to the spot," he whispered. "When Sanguini tried to pull the potion out of her blood—my fiancée cast a Stupefy on Hermione. She was scared. Thought she was turning into a monster. The spell hit, and Hermione flung Sanguini into the wall. He couldn't contain the power, and he called on some sort of magic to summon his companion who managed to calm her down and revert. I think. I—it all happened so fast."

"I'm going to speak with my mate about getting you a position in the DoM. To hell with there not being a position open," Manfred growled.

"No, master, please," Hermione pleaded. "I like it outside the DoM. I've never had a problem before this. I swear it."

Severus saw the man's jaw tighten, and he felt his heart sink into his stomach and attempt to baste itself in acid.

Manfred's eyes closed. "Alright. For now," he said. "But no healing outside the clinic on an official level save for those you are bound to in magic. If something untoward happens here, I want the Aurors to be able to wring them out to dry, am I clear?"

"Yes, Master," Hermione said.

Manfred placed a hand on hers. "Good."

Severus felt unease simmering in his gut, but he wasn't sure if it was because Lily had just dodged an Unforgivable or if the prospect of Hermione being taken away troubled him more.

"I'm sorry, but I need this area for my new beauty line," Lily announced as wizards came in and started measuring the area. "I'm afraid you're going to have to find somewhere else to peddle your snake oil."

Hermione stood stunned as her patient stared. Lily had come barging in with her contractors while she still had patients. Some of them were waiting patiently to be seen. All of them were staring at Lily like she had the Yodeling Dragon Pox.

"I'm paid up for the next three months," Hermione informed her coolly.

"Actually, you aren't," Lily said, tapping the record book. "You didn't pay it all in cash. You just gave him some worthless animal parts with no monetary value off the books. That doesn't qualify as paid up. I want you out of there as of tomorrow. You're already two weeks past due!"

One of the patients stood up, his face angry. "I will pay it. What is the rent?"

"There isn't," Lily said smugly. "I need this space, and it is not up for negotiation. And don't you dare think you can go crying to Sev about it, either. He's off in China gathering genuine kirin horn shavings. Real reagents. Unlike your phoney vials of coloured water and ground doxy droppings, I'll be putting real products here that do real things, not just some fake magic hocus pocus."

"You little Mudblood har—" one wizard snarled, as another held him back with a wince, their arm obviously injured.

Hermione closed her eyes as the patient near her whispered something, and the angry patient that had demanded to pay the rent also nodded his head.

"Very well, Miss Evans," Hermione said sombrely. "Please tell Severus that I am sorry for troubling him."

"He won't even remember your name," Lily spat, clapping her hands for the workers to continue their measurements despite the patients being there.

The next morning, everything was gone, but when Lily came in to gloat over the new space she'd claimed for herself and her products, she found the room was significantly smaller than she'd thought it was the day before. Half if not more than half. The passage to the back room emptied into a small storage cupboard with empty shelves.

Lily screamed as she kicked the small empty table over in frustration.

As Severus strode into his shop with a crate full of fresh reagents from the Chinese mountains, he stared at the milling group of wizards trying to expand the small room that had once held Hermione's clinic and living space.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" he demanded.

"Working on the new expansion, guvna," the wizards said. "The miss insisted that we finish today."

"Where is the clinic?"

"Rent was overdue," one of the construction wizards said. "Was right there when the boss miss called 'er out for not paying up for two weeks."

"She was paid up for three months, and I own this shop, I bloody well should know!"

"Well, she had the paperwork ta prove it," another of the wizards claimed. "Place was a lot bigger yesterday. I'm not sure we can duplicate the enchantment she had on the place. Pretty sure it was tied to 'er own magic, the clinic was. We can expand the area a little though, add in some more shelves."

"Did she—" Severus trailed off. "Leave me a message?"

"She put something into that drawer there near the register," one wizard said. "The boss miss was mighty angry about it. She tried to open the drawer but it wouldn't open for 'er."

Severus went over to the holding drawer he had enchanted to hold the rent payment. A small piece of parchment lay next to some pristine Fwooper feathers, a broken piece of Graphorn horn, a small vial of Horned Serpent venom, a half-dozen Nundu claw sheds, and a flask of the ever-coveted saliva.

Severus,

I'm sorry we couldn't find a way to work things out. I truly thought we were okay. I hope your trip to China was productive.

Congratulations on your upcoming wedding.

Sincerely,

Hermione

Severus held the note in his hand, his arm trembling with suppressed fury. "You will tell me exactly what happened yesterday. Leave. Nothing. Out."

"It's so beautiful," Hermione breathed as she stepped into a small garden paradise by the sea. The ocean was blue and tea that day, and the magical construction wizards were busy at work.

Some of her regular patients had supplied a few of the old stone worker wizards, and they had already erected the shell of what would become both her new clinic and home. It would look quite modest and "normal" to any passing Muggles on the outside, but the inside was amazingly spacious and complete.

And, it was all tied to the land in this area, so she'd no longer have to supply her own energy to power the spells that would keep it that way.

She'd tried to protest the work, not wanting to owe any of them for such a tremendous favour, but the wizards had shook their heads. This, they had said, was for never turning them away when they needed her, no matter what time, or what they had been doing.

This, they said, was for allowing them to go home to their families.

With the shell fully erected, they were free to perform magic in the light, safely inside the building—the gardens and building itself had been designed under the cover of night. While the property would be properly warded and enchanted in time, they were taking care to get everything just right so the building would fit in with the rest of Craster's inhabitants. It was far enough away from the main part of town that people would figure they just hadn't walked by to see the initial construction, and that suited Hermione fine—especially when her clients would be Apparating in from gods knows where and when.

There was a closed off back garden with ample room for Binsah, Oys, and Haydn to sprawl and chase each other until they were so tuckered out that they became one with the garden rocks. The pond was heated with enchantments, so Baku could soak his Horned Serpent heart out as he wished at all seasons of the year.

Jakob and Lucian had visited with their Sire, Lord Nikolai, and he oversaw the layout of the clinic to be extra roomy in case she found herself larger than life and that it had all the makings of a proper healer's abode.

And she found herself planning for the future, making sure there was space for Sanguini and Rada to make their own outside of a shared bedroom.

It wouldn't be finished for weeks, but the main living area for her would be functional by that evening—enough that she would have a roof over her head as well as an operational loo and kitchen. Considering that she'd lived in a studio closet in a very literal sense, everything seemed quite expansive to her. Like moving from a tin of salmon into a 7,500m3 aquarium.

Hermione felt the soft touch of a kiss on both sides of her neck and realised that Rada and Sanguini had snuck in to check up on her.

"Hello, love," Sanguini purred into her ear as Rada's arms encircled her.

Hermione tried not to get distracted by her cuddly mates, but it was increasingly difficult to do so. Her mind had already accepted that they were her mates and not just suitors, and with that revelation, her body wanted other reassurances—but preferably when there weren't a bunch of stonemasons and magical crafter folk swarming around.

A pile of stone was falling, and ZIP!

Walter and Barbara came to the rescue, saving the unwary young wizard apprentice that was trying to stay on top of his master's direction (not so well, apparently.) The two Lethifolds seemed to realise that having your home's craftsmen perish before it was done was probably not acceptable.

Probably.

Most likely.

She only hoped that the apprentice in question was not the one working on the clinic. Or the plumbing—

Or well, anything unsupervised.

Much like the young healer apprentices, you didn't want them attempting to mend your bones before you knew where the bones were first. She could relate. Her time with Master Morgan had been a rollercoaster of learning.

"I'm sorry you had to leave your little corner of Diagon Alley, love," Sanguini said. "I know it was important to you."

"I thought we were friends," Hermione said sadly. "As much as either of us could really have friends professionally."

Rada rubbed her shoulder with his hand. "One thing you will find in being immortal is that your perspective on permanence changes. Things do not become urgent unless they truly are. Whatever may be between you—you have time to wait."

"And hopefully, he is not adverse to vampires," Sanguini said.

"Or dragonbats," Hermione said, brows furrowing.

"Believe me, love," Rada said. "If he was ever your true friend, being a dragonbat is not a deal breaker. It's a perk."

"And if he wishes to change the nature of your relationship, well—" Rada said as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Then he needs to learn to wrangle a Lethifold—or three."

Hermione snorted. "Poor guy. I'm feeling so spoilt that I was only on the receiving end of two Lethifolds."

Her two Lethifolds preened themselves, sensing they were being talked about.

"Not as spoilt as we are," Sanguini said as he kissed her neck, his tongue teasing the thrum of her pulse point as the hint of his fangs oh so carefully scraped against her skin.

Hermione gave a sharp intake as she turned and gave Sanguini a snog and then pulled away. "Public faces!" she hissed.

"This is my public face," Sanguini said with a pout.

"Your public 'surrounded by teenagers' at Hogwarts face!" Hermione corrected.

Sanguini managed to look suitably horrified. "Why would you ever wish me to revisit such a nightmare!"

"I used to be one of those teenagers," Hermione pointed out.

"Past tense," Sanguini countered. "And for the record, you were never quite as insufferable as that one blond peacock who strutted about professing their family's greatness."

Hermione snort-chuckled into her hand, finding the great irony in Lucius Malfoy being dressed down by a Line that vastly outdated his family by a very, very long time.

"Tch," Mihail said as he drew her to his chest much to the displeasure of a snuggly Rada. "I suppose we'll keep it family rated for now."

Hermione smiled as Canta perched on Rada's shoulder and sang sweetly.

Hermione smiled and sat with them both on the garden bench. "I think—I may love you," she whispered.

Both men brightened, and they took her hand on each side, enjoying the shade as the Lethifolds kept watch to prevent the builder's apprentice from offing himself with distracted clumsiness.

"We look forward to a very long life with you," Rada said when she snuggled into his shoulder.

Hermione's dragonbat ears and tail popped out with the power of her emotion, and both vampires chuckled, giving her a tender kiss upon both temples as Oys immediately pounced that tail and gummed it therapeutically.

Hermione giggled. "I hope you don't plan on having a large family."

Both vampires eyed her slyly with a purr worthy of Manfred Morgan.

Hermione, realising what she'd just implied while she was meaning her collection of beasts, attempted to bury herself to hide her crimson colour.

"Don't you want children," Mihail asked.

Hermione tried to gather her wits. "I mean, I do. I mean I would like one if it was in the plan—if it was okay with you both. Just not a fleet or a Quidditch team or a rampaging horde of batlings like Manfred wants."

"Well, vampires are not known for having large families," Rada said. "It's what makes the children we do have all the more precious. "I think it is the trade off for such a long life. We are quite slow to reproduce unless we are Turning, and that we do not do as we once did from long ago. It's very intimate in many ways, but not the same."

"And I think we both would be more than amicable about a child between us," Sanguini said. "Whenever you're ready."

Hermione felt a stab of her traitorous body perking up with an enthusiastic "very ready, thank you very much" and her vampiric companions loosed a chuckle into her mind that was all chocolate and sin.

Worse, both Lethifolds seemed to perk at the very idea of her part in expanding the species even by one, and they radiated their Dark approval.

Hermione realised she was going to be vastly outnumbered in the protest department, despite the fact it was more of a token non-effort on her part. When it came down to it, she wanted to share her life with all of them, beasts, possible future family, and all.

There was but one concern—

How exactly did a vampiric dragonbat fit into the equation?

"Good thing it'll be much bigger on the inside than the outside," Sanguini purred into her ear. "Plenty of space to dangle from the ceilings."

Hermione chuckled and smiled. Her mates truly thought of everything.

"No, you do not put the potions brewing laboratory next to the clinic where vulnerable patients may be recovering!" Lord Nikolai bellowed from the other side of the yard.

The poor apprentice startled so badly, he dropped all the blueprints in the mud.

Hermione chortled rather loudly into Sanguini's shoulder.

"That poor wizard," Hermione said. "I'm going to have to treat him for anxiety at this point. He probably had no idea he'd be sharing space with vampire lords."

"We could always add some more," Rada said with mischief.

A pale visitor arrived at the gate, a pair of blood fruit saplings in his arms. "May I come in?"

"Come in, Lord Marcus," Sanguini greeted. "Welcome to our new project."

"Lord Gareth is coming a bit later to make sure your cellars are satisfactory," Marcus announced with a smile. "And Lord Maksim, of course, will want to make sure the cheese caves are properly climate controlled."

"Cheese—caves?" Hermione boggled.

"What's a home without a cheese cave?" Rada asked with no little amusement. "Just wait, our most beloved Ladies of the Council will want to build you the perfect owlery. Though, Antonia and Brunhild will probably fight over the decor."

"I heard that, Rada!" a feminine voice chimed from the gate as two pale ladies walked up carrying perches and two beautiful owls—one an Athenian small owl, and one a massive great grey owl that looked like it would carry a whole trolley by itself.

Hermione's eyes widened. Oh dear. They were going to need a lot more guest rooms.

Meanwhile—back in Diagon Alley…

Severus smouldered at the counter to his shop, half of his potions stock having been pushed onto one side of the shop to make room for a disgustingly wide pastel array of manky beauty products from creams to lotions, shampoos, conditioners, and hair balms and tonics.

His finger dipped into the pink jar of Gilded Lily hair balm and he sniffed it, his fingers running it experimentally between the pads of his fingers. He then dipped his fingers into the purchased jar of Sleekeazy's, sniffed, and then rubbed it between his fingers.

It was exactly the same.

Severus' expression darkened.

The patent holder on Sleekeazy's was held by none other than Fleamont Potter, father of one infamous James Potter. It was impossible to craft it without paying the Potter family.

It was impossible that Lily could have come up with the formula entirely on her own. She was either paying through the teeth for the permission to brew it or she was getting it somewhere. Either way, it wasn't her formula at all.

He opened the jar of skin salve for dry or healing skin, and the familiar scent of Hermione's healing salve she used on all her patients assaulted his nose. He was very familiar with its distinctive scent. It was mild, slightly nutty, and not at all floral. Hermione had used it on all her patients that needed skin care, and she had given him a jar of it to protect his hands while brewing, especially in winter when even minor skin abrasions were absolute murder on his hands.

He brought it to his nose as he rubbed it between the pads of his fingers.

Lethifold secretions blended into a base of shea and mango butter, jojoba, sweet almond, coconut oil.

One of the most expensive and hard to obtain ingredients in the Wizarding World. There had been only one supplier he had been able to get it from for his rare healing tonics—the irony that a living shroud's excretions would be a highly potent healing medium—was Hermione Granger.

And he knew where she got it, too.

Her two dutiful Lethifolds.

He greatly doubted if Lily went off traipsing in the rainforest wrangling wild Lethifolds.

The truth was that what Hermione had given him in just a single jar was enough, after he finished brewing it into his potions, to make enough profit to cover her rent for life, and that was what he had planned to do every month—to say that her rent was covered. He'd allow her to give whatever she felt was fair, but in reality he never planned on charging her even a knut. He squirrelled it all away in a separate account to pay for the shop next door and planned to allow her to expand into it—to have a real clinic and residence. That had been his plan, all along.

He went into the back room where he had stored the jar of Lethifold secretions and unlocked the cupboard where he kept his rarest and most valuable ingredients.

The jar was full, and he knew exactly how much he'd used for his last batch of specialty healing potions.

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion and opened the lid, sniffed, and dipped one finger in.

Water.

Severus threw the jar against the far wall where it shattered into countless pieces as the water trickled down the stone.

He walked over to the Floo, tossed in the powder and called, "Malfoy residence, Wiltshire."

"Severus, to what do I owe the pleasure?" came Lucius' familiar voice.

"We need to talk," Severus said, his jaw set.

"Of course, brother," Lucius said agreeably. "Come on through."

Severus pulled his cloak around himself, stepped into the floo, and disappeared.

His golden ring lay abandoned on the shelf in the ingredients cabinet where the jar of Lethifold secretions had been.

And here ends my Evil Author Day offering. Muah. Hah. HAH!

Hope you enjoyed it!

A/N: Hrm, I wonder what happened? *polishes halo*