Summary: SSHG, AU, It doesn't end well for Hermione Granger, but can she recover?
Beta Love: Dragon and the Cheese Delivery Service, Dutchgirl the Cheese Eater, Commander Shepard Who Lost His Cheese
A/N: I made the mistake of reading some article that detailed popular HP ships and they proceeded to tell people who shipped SSHG supported unhealthy relationships. They obviously don't actually READ some of the fanfic out there or how most authors change the setting of the relationship to make the relationship work, and just go by "OMG CANON IS SACRED" ideology. No thanks. I will die on my chosen hill.
Warning: Violence, gore, vampires
To Have and to Hold
When something bad happens, you have three choices. You can either let it define you, let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you.
Dr. Seuss
There was a pull as strong as gravity in one gesture.
Just his hand outreached to her, his pale skin like the face of the moon, she felt as though she were a meteor heading straight for a collision course. She felt as if she had been waiting for just one small sign that he might have cared enough to be willing to touch her.
They had worked together for years, but he hadn't said so much as a word to her in all of them.
But, if the unspoken word and silent actions were anything more than a painful hope—perhaps he did return her feelings. There were so many doubts, though. So many places she could have easily read it wrong.
She walked toward him, the moment her hand extended to his, she heard a loud crash from behind her.
"Hermione, no!"
"Don't touch the greasy git!"
Snape's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing, his mouth curved into a habitual twist of scorn.
Harry and Ron were running towards her, wands already out. They cast a spell toward Snape, and Hermione instinctively cast a shield and threw herself in front of Severus.
The spell cut through her shields like they were made of rice paper, and they sliced through her skin even more easily.
She was blown backwards by the force of it—perhaps the actual intention was to push Snape away from her in hopes whatever desperate spell would work.
She'd have wondered why, if it didn't hurt so bloody much.
Severus caught her in his arms, the very first time he had ever touched her after the war. His hand pressed against her cheek. His cloak seemed to come alive, moving over her like a protective and warm cocoon, dulling the agonising pain.
It was rapidly getting darker. Her vision was blurring, beginning to fade along the edges.
Her fingers stretched to touch his face in return—she'd imagined what it would feel like to touch that pale, moonlight skin.
Hold on.
Hold on, Hermione.
Did she imagine the colour of crimson in his eyes?
No, he was bleeding too. Blood trailing down his face.
She'd failed. She'd tried to save him, but he was hurt.
"I'm sorry," she gurgled painfully.
She saw panic in his eyes as she felt herself being lifted upward.
I cannot say the words.
I cannot—
Hold on. Hold on!
What words? Hermione thought. It was getting so much colder. Harder to think. She was nestled into Severus' body, carried like a small child wrapped in a swaddle of blankets. She felt the pain of her body being twisted into a magical vortex—
The blackness.
Father.
My son? What—
Please—I cannot say the words. I can't say them out loud. She's dying.
Does she even know?
Hermione heard a quiet sob in her mind just as clear as if it had been said out loud.
No. I never—I never dared tell her.
You are an idiot, my son, Hermione heard the stern voice say clearly. Even now the Lethifold is frantically trying to mend her wounds. He knows. How is it that you could not?
I wouldn't let the Lethifold leave me—
Hermione heard a deep, rumbling growl. There was a pull of power like gravity, and a roar of names.
"RADA! MIHAIL!"
The CRACK of multiple Apparates rang out. "You bellowed?"
"Gods—"
"My son is a bloody idiot," she heard the original voice growl. "She's dying. We need to bind her to our Lines to stabilise her long enough to Turn her."
Hermione's eyes fluttered. She saw three sets of glowing crimson eyes fixed upon her, yet she wasn't afraid. They were like in a dream she couldn't quite remember, but seeing them staring down at her—she felt comforted. Their faces were pale, feral, but with the roll of their immense power, she felt secure and supported, cradled like a child with her parents in a comfy garden hammock.
"I am Tobias."
"Mihail."
"Rada."
Those names—seemed so strangely familiar.
"Do you wish to live, child?"
"Will I be like you when I grow up?"
"No, dear child," Tobias said gently. "You were not born like us. It is a decision you must make when you are a bit older and better prepared to choose."
"Like Mummy and Daddy?"
"Mmhmm," Tobias said as he gathered her into his lap.
"But you stopped that car from running me over," Hermione said. "What if I need to move that fast because you're not here to save me?"
"Don't play in traffic, child," Tobias said with a tsk. "And look both ways before crossing."
Hermione frowned. "But I did."
"I know," Tobias said. "Which is why I saved you."
Hermione seemed to ponder harder. "Thank you."
"You are welcome," Tobias said, a tug of a smile on his lips.
"Will you ever call me by my name?" Hermione asked, playing with his vest buttons.
"One day," Tobias replied.
"You have dragons on your buttons."
"I do, yes."
"When I'm older, can I have dragons on my buttons?"
"I'm sure if you still want them, yes," Tobias said with a chuckle.
"Lord Tobias?"
"Hrm?"
"Do you have children?"
"I have a son, long grown," Tobias replied.
Hermione touched his lip with her hand. "Does he look like you? Daddy says I look like Mummy when she was younger. But I really don't see it."
Tobias chuckled. "My wife says he has my nose. And my hair. Possibly my voice as well."
Hermione stared at his face. "You look like the statues at the museum. The marble ones from Rome. They have very ack-wa-line noses."
"Aquiline?" Tobias suggested.
"That," Hermione said with a decisive nod. "I hope I don't have my mummy's voice. Dad says she screeches like a harpy having an argument with a banshee."
Tobias' face pinched with amusement. "He probably didn't mean that literally," he soothed.
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, looking rather dubious. "Daddy said it's not nice to lie."
"There is lying and teasing, child," Tobias said. "Sometimes it can be hard to tell the difference when you aren't the people involved."
Hermione bit her lip. "Okay."
"I have been released with clean teeth," a tall, thinner man than Tobias said. He had dark black hair and dark brown eyes. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail with small braids at the side of his face. "Your turn, old friend. They may have to take a chisel to them."
"Tch," Tobias said as Hermione brightened and ran up to the other man. "Hallo, Mister Sanguini! Are you a lord too?"
Sanguini smiled at her. "Yes, child."
"And Mister Rada?"
Sanguini smiled. "Him too."
"You must be very important people," Hermione said.
"To some," Tobias agreed.
"You must be best friends," Hermione said wistfully. "I wish I had a friend."
"Well, we will be your friends until you find some of your own," Tobias said kindly.
"Really?"
"Really."
Hermione hugged Tobias' legs and looked up at him. "You're very tall."
"A curse for every doorway I must duck through," Tobias said as he detached her from his person so he could go into his appointment. "Be good for Mihail."
"I will!" Hermione said as she took Sanguini's hand.
"I should teach you about fashion," Sanguini mused as Hermione brightened.
"Do not dare to corrupt that poor child to your atrocious peacock wardrobe," Tobias warned before he disappeared.
Hermione bit her lip, but Sanguini put one pale finger to his mouth in a shhh motion. She brightened immediately and followed him out with a light skip.
"Must you be such an insufferable know-it-all?" Snape snarled down at first-year Hermione Granger.
Hermione lifted her head and looked Snape in the eyes defiantly and thought very, very clearly. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Does your father know you're such a horrible meanie bum-face?"
Snape's eyes widened slightly even though no words were spoken aloud. He sharply turned on his heel and left without a word, his black woollen robes billowing impressively behind him.
"'Mione! You shouldn't provoke Snape! He's the worst teacher in the school and he hates Gryffindors!"
Hermione just shook her head and stalked off to her next class.
Hermione shivered in the cold detention classroom, scrubbing the bottom of the cauldrons with a meditation in her head.
Suddenly, there was a feeling of warmth as a living cloak settled around her shoulders to keep her warm. She smiled, snuggling into him as she scrubbed harder.
"Thanks, Walter."
The Lethifold warmed at her words.
Hermione performed chest compressions on her professor as Ronald and Harry fled out of the Shrieking Shack. Once they had left, she knew what she had to do to save Snape's life. She checked his mouth, lifting his lips to check his fangs, and found—
Nothing.
They were dull even for ordinary human canines, and she'd seen a lot of them as a daughter of dentists. Shaking her head to snap herself out of shock, she took her wand, cast a slicing hex at her wrist, and shoved it to his mouth.
He latched on weakly—then more securely—drinking as if he'd not fed in years.
She felt woozy, utterly knackered as he continued to drink. Her vision blurred. So much so she thought he was bleeding down his face. She crumpled as her body went limp.
She woke up sometime later at St Mungo's to find Lord Tobias there, sitting by her bedside.
"Lord Tobias?"
"You've had quite a rough time of it," the vampire said grimly.
Hermione nodded.
"I thank you for saving my son," Tobias said. "He is as fallible as any man, but he did bring you here after you suffered substantial blood loss."
"Why are you here?"
"To offer you the chance to Turn," Tobias said. "There is a good chance you may not survive this war, even now."
"I have to help Harry," Hermione insisted.
Tobias' expression softened. "You may not live to come back to us again. What of your dreams? To travel the world with Mihail?"
Hermione grimaced. "I want to. So much, but—"
"But you need to hold the Boy-Who-Lived's hand."
Hermione closed her eyes. "Yes."
"Tobias?"
"Hrm?"
"If you find me and I'm dying and can't say it at that moment—" Hermione said sadly. "I give you permission to do whatever you need to."
Tobias' eyes closed, and he nodded. He bit his wrist and held it out to her. "A little help to slow your moment of death, dear child. It is all I can give you without Turning you completely."
Hermione's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you."
She took his wrist and drank in his offering.
Hermione looked into the eyes of the three vampires that had watched over her ever since she was a young child and smiled, remembering them. She wasn't sure how she had forgotten, but she remembered them now.
She was safe.
She had always been safe with them.
"It's time, my child," Tobias said gently. "Will you trust us?"
Hermione's expression was serene. "Always."
As Rada fastened onto her bleeding arm on one side, Sanguini took the other.
Hermione looked at Tobias with a trusting smile and closed her eyes, tilting her head to the side.
Tobias' fangs flashed as he descended upon her throat with a primal growl.
He pulled away after a few minutes, his face a mask of her blood. All three elders bit their wrists and put it to her mouth as they crooned.
"Flesh of my flesh. Blood of my blood. Our hearts are bound in Darkness and in light."
"Take my blood and enter my Line," Tobias said, pressing his wrist to his mouth and letting her drink. He pulled away.
"Take my blood and enter my Line," Sanguini said, repeating Tobias' action.
"Take my blood and enter my Line," Rada said, taking the last moment to cradle her as she weakly took the last and final offering. He tenderly brushed her hair back from her face. "Sleep safe in the Earth, dear child, and return to us."
Hermione's mouth worked slowly as she rasped, "I'm sorry."
Rada gently kissed her forehead. "You have nothing at all to be sorry for."
And Hermione went limp in his arms as the last of her life gave out.
The three elder's eyes closed as a line of pink-stained tears slid down their cheeks.
"You did—what?" Sanguini asked, his teeth gritting together.
Severus looked down at his lap. "I Obliviated the knowledge of her bond with the Sang." He spoke with his mind, the wounds left by Nagini a long-lasting parting gift of hostility.
"Why would you do that?" Rada hissed.
"I wanted her to have a chance at a normal life without feeling that she owed us anything!" Severus cried. "Don't you see? I could never know if she loved me—truly loved me—and not some strange bond she felt to my father and his Coalition! So I Obliviated it from her mind and—and refused to touch her."
"You refused to touch your own mate," Sanguini said as he stared at Severus in shock. His "ARE YOU FUCKING MENTAL?!" went, at least verbally, unsaid. "You wiped her mind of her connection to the Sang, and you let us think it was HER choice to do so!"
"Tonight, I was going to release it," Severus bemoaned. "I was going to tell her everything, and if she could forgive me—I would beg you to Turn her since I cannot."
"And if she had died tonight without being bound to our Lines?" Tobias seethed. "She was Kindred! Sworn to our protection! Her family has been treating the Sang for generations!"
Severus squeezed his eyes shut as he groaned. "I would have lived with that guilt until the day I was allowed to die."
Ron and Harry stood at Hermione's gravestone as the sun set. Finally, all the people seemed to have trickled away. The last to go had been Viktor Krum who had laid a single rose upon the freshly churned dirt.
"What are we going to do, 'arry?" Ron whispered. "This isn't the way Dumbledore said it would go!"
Harry seemed utterly crushed by his guilt. "We should never have interfered, Ron."
"Whut? You said it yourself that Dumbledore's portrait saw old Snape Obliviate her and that it was in our best interests to keep it that way!"
"Yes, but he didn't actually say what was Obliviated—we just assumed."
"Well, we didn't want Snape undoing it! She was finally coming around to see things Mum's way!"
"Ron! Can we just focus on the fact that maybe he Obliviated her like she did her parents. To save their lives, and once the threat was over, he was going to undo it!"
"Whut? NO! Nothing Snape ever did was for a good reason!"
"So by that, his undoing what he did wasn't for a good reason?"
"W-whu—don't twist my words!" Ron yelled. He started casting spells as a load of dirt shifted.
"Ron, what the hell are you doing?"
"Getting back Mum's bracelet!"
"Bloody hell—why? Mione's dead. You're going to rob her corpse now?"
"It has a tracing spell on it. I need to get it back," Ron said as he flung more and more dirt out of the grave.
Harry paled. "You told me you knew where she was!"
"I did!"
"You used a bloody tracking spell on her?!"
"Well, she kept disappearing on me, yeah? I needed to know where she was!"
"So you used our Auror tracking spells to spy on her!"
"Well, yeah, how else was I supposed to make sure she wasn't sleeping with bloody Snape!"
Harry gawped at his mate in shock. "I know what spell I cast at Snape. It was Repelle, to push him away from her because you convinced me that it was imperative that he not touch her due to some Dark compulsion, but she was covered in blood as Snape took her away. What did you cast on him, Ron?"
"I had to make sure he didn't touch her!"
"What the bloody hell did you cast on her, Ron?"
"It was just a spell!" Ron deflected as he pried open the lid of the sarcophagus. "What the hell is that, we didn't pay for her to get some fancy stone thingy in the ground!"
Harry used a spell to stun Ron where he was. "Tell me what spell it was because I'm starting to think that we need to have a long talk with Kingsley and the Auror internal affairs unit!"
Ronald struggled against the bindings and glared at Harry. "It was YOUR bloody spell from that dirty little book you found in Grimmauld!"
"I threw it into the fire!"
"Yeah, well, I rescued it! It told me all about Snape and what I had to do about him. That spell was custom made just for him!"
"WHAT WAS THE SPELL?!" Harry yelled.
"CONCIDIT VISCERA!"
Harry's eyes grew wide in shock and horror. He didn't know Latin very well, but he knew what "viscera" meant and could put two and two together without having to resort to Punnett squares, calculus, and alcohol.
"How did I not hear you cast that?"
"You're not the only one that learned spells out there in the woods," Ron said accusingly. "Now, lemme go so I can get Mum's bracelet!"
It was the last thing he said before there was a horrendous CRASH as the coffin inside the sarcophagus shattered open and a brown blur coupled with a vicious snarl cut off Ron's ability to do more than gurgle—
Hermione tore out his straining throat with newborn fangs, greedily drinking down every last drop of his hot blood. She bared her teeth through a mask of blood, her eyes glowing a fiery crimson that was neither sane or mundane. Magic flowed in her body, echoed in her eyes.
Magic—and absolute rage.
Whatever it was that arose wearing Hermione's body, it was not the Hermione that he knew.
It was hunger and fire, rage, and merciless murder.
She crushed Ron's tattered neck with blood-stained claws so hard that the bones crunched with a wet, sticky crushing and grinding sound.
There was a snap of a twig, and Harry barely had enough time to realise it was Rita Skeeter trying to snap a photograph when Hermione moved far faster than the eye could see, and she swiftly buried her fangs into Rita's neck, guzzling her blood with just as much enthusiasm as she had with Ron.
She let Skeeter's drained body drop onto the ground as blood dripped down her face. She took a moment to lick the blood from her lips, but her eyes were terrifyingly soulless and empty. It was as if Hermione's mind had left the building and her body was off running amok. Her eyes were set in a field of black, twin red suns set in the backdrop of the infinite vacuum of deep space.
She stepped over the corpse as if it were nothing, her eyes locked with his—
And he realised, as that presence pushed down on his mind and suppressed all other thoughts that the Gryffindor students' hypothesis that Snape was a vampire was laughable—
All of their so-called reasons had been prejudiced, based solely upon his physical appearance.
And Snape had never once used this sort of devastating mental pressure on them, no matter how desperately they might have deserved it.
He was rooted to the spot, unable to move.
He knew at that moment that Snape had never once used Dark power to force anyone to do anything. He hadn't been nice to be sure. He hadn't been anyone's buddy— but he had never used any sort of power like he did in that moment as his body struggled to both flee and stay put.
He could no more fight it than he could fight an avalanche.
He saw death in those vacant, predatory eyes.
She started to move.
"Hermione, I'm sorry!"
"Hermione, I swear I didn't know!"
"Hermione!"
"HERMIONE!"
Harry relived every time he should have listened.
Should have waited.
Should have done more than just accept Ron at his word.
He should have done more to see what SHE wanted, not Ron.
She moved in a flash toward him, and he whimpered, fully expecting her to tear out his throat as she had Ron's and Rita's.
Click!
Her teeth snapped but an inch from his face.
He saw Snape, his arms wrapped around her like steel bands as he held her back.
No, my love.
No!
Hermione's face twisted into a vicious snarl, bloody foam gathering around her mouth. Her hands were twisted into talons—claws still covered in gore.
I'm sorry.
Hermione snarled, straining against Snape' grip.
I obliviated you to give you a chance at a human life.
I'm sorry.
I was such a fool.
Dumbledore stole my fangs.
He stole my power.
Tom Riddle stole my voice.
I had no way to claim you as mine.
I was going to tell you that night.
To see if you could possibly forgive me.
Hermione hissed, her teeth snapping even closer to Harry's neck.
If you could ever accept a broken man and an even more broken vampire.
Come back.
Hermione snarled, struggling against his embrace.
Even if it is not to be with me.
Come back.
I beg you.
Harry saw death in her blank, murderous face. There was no remorse to be found there. No pity. Whatever was required to allow her mind to reinhabit the risen body.
Snape took one of her claws and drew it across his neck. Drink. If only this once. Even if you never do again. Please. Drink.
Hermione's eyes went to Snape's neck where a line of blood made a scarlet trail down his skin. She was on him in a flash, hungrily drinking.
Snape's eyes filled with crimson tears as his arms wrapped around her as his body shuddered. He crumpled as his legs gave out, but still he didn't stop her from feeding.
I love you.
Harry heard Snape's mental mantra as he repeated his love for her over and over as Hermione continued to drink down his life's blood.
He was definitely weakening, and Harry, despite his guilt, hoped Snape's life would be enough to sate Hermione's rising primordial hunger.
He didn't want to die.
Not after all he had lived through.
Not after all he had done to save the Wizarding World.
Selfish!
Selfish!
Selfish!
SELFISH! his brain screamed.
So what if it is?! his mind protested. I deserve a little selfish desire after all I've been through! I had to live in a ruddy cupboard! I had to save the fucking world! I had to die like a sacrificial lamb!
Yeah? And where would you have been without Hermione? Huh? What if you'd only had Ronald Bilius Weasley—your so-called best mate and first rate enabler? EH?!
You'd be bloody DEAD already!
I was the chosen one! It was my destiny!
Yeah, and you did it all by yourself, didn't you, you arrogant wanker? There wasn't a single fucking time when you did it all on your own, save one. When you walked up to Voldemort and basically gave him permission to kill you. But then, no one could actually do that part for you, could they?
Shut up.
Shut UP!
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Hermione stopped feeding from Snape, and his arms no longer pinned her. He lay weak, crumpled and drained on the ground—his blood staining her lips crimson red. Her lips pulled back from crimson-stained teeth, and all of her attention was now focused intently on him.
Instead of arguing with his guilty conscience, he could have run for it, but instead of running—
Harry staggered backwards with a cry of despair.
Some wizard.
Some Auror.
Some friend.
Such a bloody—IDIOT.
With a flash of movement, she was on top of him, smashing him against the unfortunate tree standing sentinel near her now-open grave. Her teeth bared, and Harry promptly lost all bladder control as he babbled out a frantic stream of gibberish along with, "Oh—gods, Hermione! I'm so SORRY!"
CRACK!
CRACK!
CRACK!
"By the power of my Line, I call thee back."
"By the power of my Line, return."
"By the power of my Line, drink."
Harry whimpered as he saw three tall pale figures standing silhouetted in the moonlight. They bit their wrists and let the blood drip into a goblet.
"Come back to us, child," a man that reminded Harry strongly of Snape—if Snape had long hair and an even sterner expression.
An immense roll of power came from them, and Hermione's teeth clicked but a fraction of an inch from his neck.
Suddenly she was with them, drinking from the offered goblet of blood. Harry saw Sanguini drag a claw across his neck, and pull her to it after she was done, and she fed again.
Then the other vampire did the same—
And then the one that looked like Snape's long-haired doppelganger—
The pressure in the air seemed to ease, and Snape's look-alike held her close, closing his eyes as he stroked her head. "Be at ease child," he said, his voice a rumble of thunder as much as it was a purr.
"Tobias?" Hermione whispered.
"There you are, Hermione," the vampire said, his lips tugged into a smile.
"You said my name," Hermione said, her eyes brighter despite the blood covering her face and—well, everywhere else.
"Welcome back, dear one," the other vampire said, taking her into his arms and pressing her face to his neck in a gesture of intimate trust.
"Lord Rada," Hermione whispered. "I'm sorry. I feel like I've done something horrible."
The elder vampire smiled and shook his head. "No, my dear. The nature of your death determines how you will rise. You cannot be held accountable for your soul not wanting to return to your body after such trauma."
Tobias was checking on Snape, and Harry saw him bite his wrist and put it to Snape's mouth, cradling him as he would a child. After a few minutes, he pulled away, his eyes glowing a soft, but weak crimson on a field of black. "Thank you, father." His mouth didn't move, but the words were clear.
"You did well, my son," Tobias said approvingly. "Had you not done what you did, she would probably have feasted on many of the living before we could get here—starting with Mr Potter."
"I wasn't quite fast enough," Snape said, his head moving to glance toward where Ronald and Rita lay lifeless on the ground.
"It wasn't as bad as my rise, my son," Tobias said. "And Mihail left a swath of violent ends in his wake. Our Sires desired this—as nothing is quite as brutal and unforgiving as a vampire Sired after a violent mortal wounding, no matter how kind and gentle they might have been before that moment. It matters not how compassionate the Turning after the act that would end fatally—only that the act that put them in that situation was brutal. And in times long past—we were the secret weapon against armies."
"I failed her," Snape said with a pained groan. "It should have been me that Turned her. Spared her this—violent end. I was a coward."
"It was Dumbledore," Harry whispered, causing multiple sets of glowing eyes to stare at him.
"His portrait tipped us off that you'd Obliviated Hermione—" Harry said hoarsely. "It said all the right words to send us rushing off on a rescue mission—knowing that Ron would spare no moment of thought at foiling your plans—and that I would support him, assuming he was right because Dumbledore told us so."
"You did all of that because of a bloody portrait?" Snape hissed directly into his mind. "You SLICED HER TO HER DEATH!"
"It wasn't me!" Harry insisted. "I used a pushing spell to shove you away from her. I swear it!"
Tobias' eyes narrowed. "Prove it," he said. "Give your blood to me."
"How do I know you won't just kill me?" Harry stammered.
"You don't," Tobias said implacably. "But if I wished you dead, Auror Potter, we would not be talking, and I would have simply let her eat you."
Harry's green eyes widened. "I guess I really don't have a choice, do I?"
Sanguini, who was pressing Hermione to his chest as he stroked her hair in reassurance, curled his lip from his fangs in a grimace. "No, you don't."
"I'm very angry with you, Severus," Hermione said.
And you have every right to be. He closed his eyes. Words cannot possibly express how sorry I am.
"Instead of asking me how I felt, you just Obliviated the Sang from my memory—why?"
I wanted to be sure your feelings were genuine and not because of some bond created in your childhood.
"For someone who is a known Legilimens—you're bloody awful," Hermione said.
I couldn't. Severus looked at her with a grimace. That is the one spell I must use both wand and voice for. I would never have managed it otherwise. And if you had asked me to—I would have been unable to, bringing you even closer to my many faults.
"We all have faults, Severus," Hermione said quietly. "Mine was in trusting my friends so blindly. And you. YOU!"
Her face twisted in anger. "You were able to talk to me mind to mind all this time and not a peep. NOT ONE SINGLE WORD!"
I was afraid!
Hermione stared at him. "What?"
I was afraid if I touched you—your body, your mind—that I would not be able to let go, and you would leave, and I would be broken all the more for your leaving me!
Even now, this little touch of mind to mind is agonising. Intoxicating. Maddening. I want to roll myself in your mind and body. I want to—
"Kiss me," Hermione said.
W-what?
"If you even feel the slightest bit like I felt for you before this," Hermione said. "Kiss me."
I—I'd never be able to let you go. Please don't ask this of me if you mean to walk away. The agony of your leaving is nothing to that of knowing what you taste like—feel like—and then having you leave.
"Severus, you did a horrible thing to me, but it was not a deal breaker," Hermione said quietly. "I loved you. I still do, but you gave me no indication like a normal person would that you even cared enough for me to want something more. It's something I need to know—to know you want me enough that you can kiss me."
He reached out to touch her cheek with his fingertips. What I want is—consuming. Forever.
"Maybe I want forever with you," Hermione said, "only—the you that asked me how I feel instead of Obliviating me and running his own silent experiment."
Severus grimaced. I have learned my lesson.
Walter pushed him closer. Insistently.
Listen to the Lethifold, he said dryly.
"You should," Hermione agreed. "He's quite clever. And—he tells me that you are worth forgiving."
Severus' eyes widened. He speaks to you?
"Ever since I was a firstie in your class that day when you yelled at me and gave me detention."
Severus frowned. I've had a history of bad decisions.
"Start by trying to make better ones," Hermione suggested.
Easier said than done.
"Start with kissing me," Hermione said as Walter jabbed him and herded him closer.
He slowly cupped her face between his hands and pressed his mouth to hers, pouring his emotion into his kiss as a flood of magic passed from one to the other like crashing tides meeting.
Severus groaned as his entire body seemed like it was both on fire and melting at the same time, every vessel in his body seemingly carrying molten rock through them instead of blood.
Hermione pulled away, and the agony of it was what he imagined dying felt like for a mortal—or what he would have felt had he not been a vampire when Nagini bit him.
To his surprise, she hissed softly, baring her fangs as she drew one talon across the side of her neck.
He stared at her, his mouth dry as a desert.
Hermione closed her eyes, tilting her head to the side.
He drank, deeper than he intended—
Yet, she did not weaken. She drew him closer.
The back of his brain seemed to be telling him something about the significance, but he was far too gone with drinking down the sweet blood that didn't even taste like he remembered having taken it back when he still had fangs—
"I'm sorry, Severus," Albus said with a sigh. "I can't have you around children and risk you being tempted."
Severus spasmed as a magic he had never felt before burned through his body—magic from deep within the school. His fangs lengthened as his hands twisted into talons—against his will.
The magic arced into him like a lightning strike, searing into his mouth as his fangs broke and his claws were ripped out from his fingers by force. Severus screamed in agony as the birthright of his father's Line was torn from him in parts and then thrown into a box hidden deep within Hogwarts. His fingers bled where the claws had been ripped out by the root. His gums bled where his fangs had been forcibly broken and dulled.
"Now, listen carefully, Severus," Albus' voice said through the haze of pain. "This is not reversible, and you will do everything in your power to conceal your condition from those like Sanguini. Am I understood?"
Severus felt the yoke being forced around his neck, and it tightened inexorably.
"Yes."
"Good, now, I can't have you remembering this, but you will remember to keep your condition secret. I'm sorry, my boy, but this is what must be done to keep the children safe from you and you safe from yourself."
"Obliviate."
"THAT FUCKING WANKER!" Hermione's voice screamed in his head as her molten fury filled his mind and body.
He was utterly swept up by her anger and rage, and he felt her take that signature of magic from the old coot and taste it on her tongue like she was sampling wine. Her eyes blazed crimson and gold, and he realised she was pulling on the blood memories of her Lines.
His father—Sanguini and Rada—he could feel their presence within her mind, guiding her through using the powers of their Lines. He felt Sanguini's smug anticipation—like a hound eager for the hunt.
Hermione traced that "scent" and "taste" of Dumbledore down the vessels of the Earth, awakening the beasts of the Dark as she went—and they stirred to her Call.
Hungry.
Anticipatory.
Eager.
Lethifolds were gathering—
In their very room.
Called from every vampire that had one—
Swirling—amassing—hungry.
There was the feeling of a note of perfect harmony of mind and magic, and Severus saw Dumbledore on a distant shore—completely unaware.
But very much alive.
Hermione gave herself into the bond to her Sires, and she let them guide her. Her claws outstretched, and she pulled on the power inside her and from the Lines and cut a portal into the fabric of the Weave.
Dumbledore's eyes widened on the other side as it tore open.
The Lethifolds surged and leapt into the portal with hissing eagerness even as the Dark beasts followed the pathway she had left.
On the other side, the clouds gathered so thickly that the locals believed there was an eclipse. People screamed and panicked—
But drowned out in the screams of so many, no one heard a manipulative old wizard getting torn to pieces by the Dark.
Within a few minutes the Lethifolds oozed back through the portal as Hermione fell forward, her effort spent.
Severus caught her even as the strangely familiar sting of his fangs growing in his mouth returned.
He bit his tongue—unaccustomed to the old habit to keep from injuring himself. His claws pushed out from his nail beds reshaping his fingers back to their old configuration—
His neck stung as the wounds he had received from Nagini suddenly reopened, but her noxious venomous gift oozed out in a dark greenish black sap-like fluid.
His vocal cords mended along with his neck—the venom no longer able to prevent his vampire nature from doing what it was supposed to do.
And then he felt it—
His heart beat—blood filling his veins and arteries with Dark, magical blood.
Blood to feed his mate. The missing piece that had made him think he was all the more defective. Not only was he fangless and clawless, but his body had not produced the Dark blood to feed his mate.
Now, it poured from his eyes as he sobbed, cradling Hermione to his body as he rocked her to him as she lay in a deep, deep sleep.
She had moved Heaven and Earth to bring him justice—
He had no more doubts, anymore. Not about her—not about her love for him.
"I love you," he said against her ear, his voice rumbling with a deep thunder that hadn't been heard since the end of the war. "I love you," he repeated.
Deep, deep within the Realm of Hades, Hades, God of the Underworld lay one hand on the middle head of his loyal hound. The other held his glowing bident. A glowing crown of poplar, mint, cypress, and serpents seemed to writhe upon his head as if alive.
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Hades rumbled as the Earth shook in the mortal realm. "We have so much to discuss, and I cannot wait to hear your reasoning for keeping my children from finding their mates."
Albus, for once in his life and death, was at a total loss for words.
Tobias, Rada, and Sanguini sighed as they sealed Severus and Hermione into the Earth for the sleep they should have had from the start—rocked to sleep with the deep song of the Underworld.
"How long do you think they'll be in the Earth?" Rada asked casually, sinking fang into a pomegranate-looking fruit and sucking the blood from it.
"After Calling the Darkness before she reached five hundred years?" Tobias said with a snort-chuckle. "A few years, I think. They need the time to heal the rifts caused by that 'fucking wanker', as she put it."
Sanguini smiled. "Couldn't have happened to a more deserving bastard."
"I think our Lord Hades will give Dumbledore a most proper welcome," Rada said.
"Better than rolling a stone up a mountain day after day?"
"I'm sure it will be something just as beautiful," Tobias said with a glint in his eyes.
"Do you think our Lord knew she would be the instrument of our vengeance?"
"Knowing we were forbidden to bring Dumbledore to justice ourselves?" Sanguini said. "Undoubtedly."
"He did bless us with her from a very young age," Rada observed. "We will have to reward her family properly. The Grangers deserve to be recognised for raising such a compassionate and fiery daughter fit for our Lord's Dark gift."
"I think you knew something, old friend," Sanguini said as he cocked an eyebrow at Tobias.
"Whatever do you mean?"
"You knew she was going to draw on our Lines' combined powers and go after him," Mihail said with pursed lips. "What I want to know is how."
Tobias smiled.
"Spill it," Rada insisted.
"Her Turning rage," Tobias said. "She went after the Weasley boy first—the strongest connection to her death. It wasn't entirely indiscriminate. She was focused on something—something her body felt a connection to in her mindless hunger even when her mind wasn't there. She went after Skeeter—again someone she had a connection emotionally to in not so nice a way. Not that anyone would blame her. Skeeter was a menace to many."
"But she didn't immediately go after Potter—not until all other 'food' was gone," Sanguini said.
Tobias nodded. "Exactly."
Rada's eyes widened. "She inherited our magic tracing talent," he said with realisation.
Tobias smiled. "Something we developed as a Triumvirate."
Sanguini whistled. "I wonder what else she inherited from our Lines," he said.
Tobias chuckled. "From what Severus was saying, she's always been a bit of an overachiever."
"That's saying something, considering he is much the same," Rada said.
Sanguini shook his head. "So what do we do with this Weasley matron—she who demands our Hermione's head for her alleged crime against her errant youngest son?"
Tobias smiled, and it was not a nice one. "She's welcome to start digging and attempt to remove it herself."
Sanguini and Rada smiled.
"I'll get the popcorn," Rada said.
"I'll get the special sauce," Sanguini said.
Molly grunted in frustration as she took a shovel to the packed dirt. She cursed at both Hermione's memory and herself for so graciously accepting her into the family.
The Wizengamot was wrong.
Her Ronnie could ever do such a thing.
He would never use Dark spells to kill someone!
Harry— he was wrong too. His memories of the event had to be tampered with, that was the only possible explanation.
She tried to get him to take back his testimony, but he wouldn't, he simply refused to.
So she forbade Ginny to stay with Harry, and demanded that she divorce him immediately.
How dare he!
How dare he turn on them after all they had done for him!
Spells weren't working on the gravesite, so she had to go at it with a shovel she had transfigured out of a branch. Every few digs she had to walk out of the graveyard and retransfigure it. Something was dampening the magic in this place—
Annoying.
But she was determined to make everyone see that she was right.
She was going to prove that Hermione's supposed death at her son's wand was just another sham.
"You are not to go digging up graves to prove your beliefs, Madam Weasley," the Head Mugwump ordered sternly. "We forbid it. We have seen all the evidence, and we completely exonerate Hermione Granger. And we have noted on the record that your son died directly due to his use of a Dark spell that fatally wounded his friend. It does not matter that he intended it for someone else. That he cast the spell at all is enough."
The Head Mugwump scowled. "And if you should attempt to do anything behind our backs, Madam, what happens to you as a result will be solely on you."
"Come on, Mols," Arthur said, tugging on her.
Molly jerked her sleeve away, her eyes fiery. "Let me go, Arthur! They're hiding something about that little backstabbing bitch, I know it!"
"Molly, please just accept that Ronald tried to kill Snape and it went terribly wrong!"
"NO! I will NEVER accept that our baby boy did such a thing!"
Molly grit her teeth as the shovel suddenly hit something hard.
Finally!
She worked even harder, beads of sweat dripping down her face, until the lid of the coffin was free to be opened. She thumped it with her shovel, listening for the telltale hollow sound.
But she had no idea what a coffin sounded like when it was occupied.
It didn't matter.
She knew it would be empty.
She struggled to pry open the lid, resulting in her using Wizarding cement on ropes and using them to drag the coffin outside the warded border of the graveyard so she could use her magic to open it for her. As she moved back to the open grave, she saw the lid was open, and she squinted into the darkness within.
There was just blackness—as if someone had stuffed the coffin with Snape's black woollen robes.
Only then, the "cloth" moved.
Two velvety lumps of cloth rose up like mountains, and a number of tiny cloths the size of small napkins moved about between them.
The lumpy mountains of cloth shifted position, exposing rows and rows of shifting, shining teeth.
The Lethifolds hissed together as they leapt in a flash of movement and took down one Molly and held her down, screaming, as the clutter of babyfolds moved in for their first live meal.
The parental Lethifolds ushered their well-fed and drowsy babyfolds back into the coffin, tucking themselves snugly around the two sleeping vampires as they carefully replaced the lid. A Dark hellhound pup used his legs to push the coffin back to the gravesite and kicked the dirt back down over the now reburied coffin, patted it down and curled up on top, tail beating a happy rhythm as he waited for his most favourite family to return.
He chewed on the conveniently left long bone, quickly making it disappear with loud and disturbingly enthusiastic crushing and crunching noises.
"I don't think it would be a good idea," Harry said.
"But Mum hasn't come back from her stupid mission," Ginny protested. "We can always get married again!"
Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. "I realised when she was willing to do what she did—doubt my memories as being fake—that I don't want to even risk having that rain down on me again, Ginny. Besides, I just want to live a quiet life. Away from all the drama and publicity."
"We could go live in the countryside," Ginny said pleadingly.
"With you Flooing off to Quidditch games and living the glamorous life while I keep my head down? I don't think that's really the life you want, Gin," Harry said. "We should be honest about that."
"So you're just going to go live at Grimmauld and mope?" Ginny huffed.
"Yeah, for a while," Harry said. "I think I need some time alone to get my head back on straight. I need to figure out who Harry Potter is without being the Chosen One or the Saviour of the Wizarding World."
"But Harry, that's who you are—"
"Is it really?" Harry asked seriously. "Is that really all I am?"
"It's the greatest part of you," Ginny insisted. "It's so important!"
Harry let out a soft snort. "What's my favourite colour, Gin?"
Ginevra just stared at him.
"What do I like to do when things are quiet?"
Silence.
"When you take away the Quidditch and the other things that made me famous, what is left?" Harry asked.
"Your favourite colour is gold," Harry said. "You sing off key to the tune of Magic Works in the shower. You like to skip in the rain when no one is looking. You can't stand cooking because it makes you think of your mother, and you don't want to be her. You had a crush on Draco Malfoy ever since you were six, but your mother refused to even humour that, so she locked you in your room until the day you decided you wanted to become a Quidditch star. Your biggest dream is to be touted as the finest chaser of all time and be more popular than Viktor Krum, known internationally as a Quidditch prodigy. When you're upset you eat an entire jar of peanut butter with just a spoon, and then blame it all on your brothers."
Ginny stared at him.
"I just don't think we want the same things, Gin," Harry said gently. "You want the things that I thought I wanted because everyone told me they were what I should want, but the truth is, I don't want fame and glory. I want a small family with a person who will be there when I get home and share their day with me. Not about Quidditch or big fancy dos. Just life. Just a normal and boring but precious life. And I was a part of a conspiracy that took the life of my very best friend—both of them. And I can only say that I didn't know so many times before it starts to feel hollow. An excuse, because I should've known better. And I watched people who truly cared for her suffer because of me."
"H-her? Ginny said, her face darkening. "You're talking about Hermione? What about my brother?"
"Ron killed someone, Gin," Harry said pointedly. "His supposed wife-to-be. The one he claimed was meant for him. Hermione didn't do anything. She didn't lead him on. She made it clear she wasn't interested in Ron that way. She just wanted to live a peaceful life."
"WITH FUCKING SNAPE!"
"He was a brave man," Harry declared. "And I've started to see exactly how brave. To stand up for something that's hard. Against everyone that is against you. And Hermione—she was brave too. Braver than I ever was. She stood up for what she believed in, and I—I did what I was told to and believed what I was told to believe in."
Harry sighed. "And if that is what you really think of Hermione, then I think you should go." He pointed out the door.
"Harry—don't—you know I didn't mean it like that!"
Harry shook his head. "I think you did, Gin, and I think you need to leave right now."
Ginny's face reddened as she stormed out of Grimmauld Place in a rage.
Time passes…
"Michael, come on, hurry up!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" the little wizard complained as he tried to balance an owl cage and his bags. His moppy black hair hung over his eyes, and he had to keep blowing it out of his face.
"So much like me, it hurts," Harry said as Susan smiled up at him.
"He'd better not become an Auror when he's grown," Susan said with a chuckle. "I worry enough when you go out on your night assignments."
Harry smiled. "I always come home to you."
Susan smiled back. "You do," she said as she gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"I hope he doesn't go crawling around in the dark like his mum, the curse-breaker," Harry said. "I worry about you every time you break into another tomb."
"Honestly, Harry, we're not breaking into them," Susan said with a huff. "We're preserving Wizarding history!"
"For the goblins," Harry ribbed, pure mischief in his eyes.
"And for society, you infuriating man," Susan hissed.
Harry chuckled and gave his wife a tender kiss on the cheek to placate her wrath, however ineffectual it was.
"Hello, Susan," a familiar voice said.
"Hi, Harry," a young witchling with curly black hair greeted.
A babyfold poked her "head" out to peer at them and then thwapped the witchling upside the head.
The witchling flushed. "Mister Potter," she corrected herself. "Sorry, Hazel," she told the babyfold.
The babyfold slicked her hair into a tamed form and then dove back into hiding.
"Hello, Melantha," Harry said kindly. "Looking forward to Hogwarts?"
"Mummy says I'm too excited," Melantha said with a pout. "Father says so too."
The tall, dark, and brooding Severus never failed to get Harry to swallow hard, despite everything.
"I'm sure they just don't want you to lose your head over it," Harry said. "Otherwise you'll forget something."
"I have a great memory!" Melantha protested.
Hermione dangled her bookbag in front of her with an amused look.
"Oops," Melantha said, looking sheepish.
Severus handed her the carrier for her rather dishevelled-looking kitten.
"Oops again," Melantha said, now very embarrassed.
Mmmeow! The kitten said in protest of being jostled as the child attempted to get her hands on the cage and almost dropped it. "Sorry, Licorice," Melantha apologised to the feline.
If a feline could glare daggers, Licorice was doing her level best to prove it could and would happen.
"I'm sorry!" Melantha cried. "Please don't shred all my knickers again."
Harry exchanged glances with Hermione, and Hermione just shrugged.
"Don't look at me," Severus objected. "She learned that all on her own."
"Be good at school, love," Hermione said, kissing her child on the head.
"I will," her daughter answered and she gave her parents a hug. "Bye Harry, Mr Auror Harry," she blabbered. "Bye Missus Susan."
Hazel thwapped her again.
"Mister and Missus Potter!" she corrected with a grimace. "Mum and Dad call them Harry and Susan, why do I have to—ACK, STOP! DESIST! I apologise!" The little witchling scurried off to the train as the irritated babyfold gave her a piece of her mind.
"That monstrosity is not mine," Severus said, deadpan.
"Who else would her father?" Hermione said, giving him "the look."
"I'm blaming Rada," Severus said, lips pursed.
"I slept five years in the ground with you, mister," Hermione said, poking a talon into his robes with a ripping sound. "I happen to know with certainty that it was you who impregnated me when we came out of the Earth."
"Tch," Severus said, but his eyes held a glimmer of pure amusement.
As the train slowly pulled away from the station, both pairs of parents sighed with some relief that everyone had managed to board the train without accidentally murdering someone. They waved to their children as they made their way to Hogwarts.
"We may end up having to Turn Minerva," Severus said. "Then our daughter can think she literally has eyes on the back of her head."
Hermione snorted. "We could order her to retire and enjoy life for a change," she said.
Severus smiled. "I can put a cat tree in Rada's study."
Hermione's eyes glowed a second. "What are you up to, Severus?"
"Nothing," Severus said. "I'm just observant."
Hermione narrowed her eyes and muttered dire imprecations under her breath.
Severus gave his mate a tender kiss on the temple.
"Harry and I are going to lunch at the Leaky," Susan said. "Would you like to join us?"
Hermione smiled. "We'd love to."
When Severus looked like he might protest, Walter reached out and swiftly covered his mouth.
Susan beamed. "Excellent."
In a series of cracks, they all disappeared.
(Babyfold whispering as they scurry across the screen, chased by their ever-watchful parentfolds)
And they lived "well" happily ever after.
(Well, except for three certain people in Hades who attempted to use pebbles to build a bridge to the living world, only to have it disappear every time they blinked.)
"Living well is the best revenge."
George Herbert