Summary: There will be 31 days of mayhem, but I'm not sure there will be 31 actual stories. That would require more brain than Corvus has.

Beta Love: Dragon and the Cold Water Bottle Torture, Dutchgirl01 the Busiest Bee that Ever Buzzed, Commander Shepard the Winter Soldier

A/N: Each story will be a separate chapter to feed my laziness and desire not to post that many new stories for the same event.

The Museum of Vanished Things

When wealth is lost, nothing is lost; when health is lost, something is lost; when character is lost, all is lost.

Billy Graham

Prompt: The Museum of Vanished Things was open twenty-four hours a day.

Hermione found it quite by accident.

The door was open when she really needed to get out of the rain, and she stumbled in looking like a soaked cat that had been caught in a sudden squall.

A black cloak floated toward her, its deep red lining shifting from deep red to bright as she looked at it, and for a moment, she thought she saw—teeth?

It was on her in a moment—and she felt like a child being towelled off by her mum, with just enough rough and soft fabric to sop away the moisture.

Her bushy hair stood on end, and the cloak rung itself out into a pail. It seemed to regard her as an animal would, "head" cocked as if to stare. Glowing green "eyes" of magic flickering.

"Thank you," Hermione said, feeling grateful.

The cloak seemed to ruffle itself, and it zipped over and settled across her shoulders as a blast of heat and magic fused to her back.

Hermione startled.

She'd never been adopted by a magical artefact—

She'd read about them, but—

She wasn't even sure what this was— was it a cloak? A living thing? A—something else?

"Ah, there you are, Walter," a female voice said. An older woman tutted from behind a counter as she put birdseed and water into a cage for a purple and a green budgie. "He's been waiting for you for some time now, Miss Granger."

Hermione startled again. "How did you—"

"We know a lot of things here at the Museum of Vanished Things," the woman said. She shut the budgie cage and sat down at a wooden table where a giant puzzle was half-finished. She picked up a piece and started to find a place for it. "Some of the things here have waited a long, long time to be claimed."

"I—" Hermione began and realised she had no idea what to even say.

"I believe what you are looking for is in there, my dear," the elder woman tutted.

Hermione picked her jaw up off the floor and walked into the next room, wondering if the room was some sort of Room of Lost Things—only in a shop.

As she walked into the next room, she froze.

There, sitting by the fireplace, was Severus Snape. His feet were up on a footrest, his long legs crossed as he had a book on his lap.

Hermione let out a soft sob of disbelief—

Immediately the wizard looked up, dropping the book carelessly to the floor as he stood. He rushed to her-wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"Hermione?"

"I saw you fall!" Hermione sobbed into his chest. "I saw you vanish after being hit by Ron's spell!"

Severus held her against him. "I arrived here—it seems but hours ago—"

Suddenly, the pair found themselves on a remote seaside lot beside a familiar cottage. The Lethifold promptly zipped off of Hermione's shoulders to eagerly explore the new place, a blur of movement that barely slowed.

Hermione burst into tears, sobbing as she clung tightly to her long-missing husband.

"Shh," he tutted, brushing the tears from her cheeks. "I'm here now. We have forever to spite the Weasley tosser by living a long, happy life—if that is what you still want."

"Of course, I do," Hermione sobbed. "Don't be ridiculous!"

He placed a pale hand to her damp cheek. "You should know I have a rather—eternal affliction."

His wan smile was distinctly—fanged.

Hermione burst into tears again. "You're a vampire?"

Severus, desperate to make the tears stop, pressed his palms to her cheeks as he grimaced. "Does this displease you?"

"No, you idiot," Hermione cried, her now crimson eyes staring up at him as her fangs flashed. "So am I!"

Severus gawped slightly, his mouth closing with an audible clack as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Thank the gods!"

He twirled her around as they made their way into the cottage and made sure their mating bond was well and truly sealed at least three hundred times. Just in case there was any possible doubt—

Somewhere far, far away

Auror Ronald Weasley vanished from his cubicle at the Aurory, in front of his coworkers, without a trace.

The Elder Witch Joke tutted as a new parakeet showed up in the budgie cage—a bird with pale white feathers and bright orange speckles.

"Serves you right, lad," the witch said with a smug smile as the other two parakeets proceeded to show him who was top budgie on the bird totem pole. "One should never mess with true love."

She placed some more seed into the cage. "Spells like that tend to backfire."

The orange budgie flew about in a panic as he frantically tried to escape the cage.

"None of that now, mortal," the elder witch said, her eyes glowing. "Or I'll turn you into a puzzle."

Ron-budgie squawked and cowered in the corner of the cage, shivering.

"That's better," Joke said as she made sure the door was open for the next "customer" of the Museum of Vanished Things.

Squawk!