Summary: SSSHG, After the war, Hermione finds that some of her friends have resorted extreme measures to save their families
Beta Love: Unsupervised SHENANIGANS!
Dragon and the Rose: Guess again, birdie!
Fine, and also Dutchgirl01 the Perpetually Busy, Commander Shepard the Budgie Entertainer and Riverside Steak Pouncer
A/N: …blurp
Captive Audience
It's not denial. I'm just selective about the reality I accept.
Bill Watterson
"Neville, what the hell are you doing?"
"I'm saving my parents!" Neville hissed at her. "This creature has a way to save my parents locked in his fool head, and I know it. And he's going to rot here until he tells me what it is!"
"Do you even hear yourself?" Hermione yelled. "This is a man! A being! A sentient being! You cannot just lock him up and torture him! People will notice when he's missing!"
"No one is going to notice, Hermione," Neville scoffed in disgust. "They are busy doing what I'm doing. Trying to take care of their families. Trying to build families. They don't care about some missing bloodsucker. But I do. I care because he has information I want, and my parents are more important than some bloody leech that has lived longer than any human has a right to!"
He took a fat rat out of the cage and threw it into the prison, and the vampire fell on it in starvation, draining it dry in an instant.
Neville smiled at her suddenly. "It won't matter. You'll walk out and come back tomorrow, just like always. Saying nothing to anyone."
As Neville stormed out, Hermione saw the feral Sanguini lunge at the bars, but the magic in them caused him to be shocked and violently thrown back.
Gone was the debonair gentleman he had always shown himself as at Slughorn's parties. Only the desperately hungry beast remained.
Something had changed.
There had always been a sense of mystery about him, but even more so, power. Perhaps, it was something those born in magical families no longer sensed, but she, as a Muggleborn, was all too aware. A current of power that had always been under the surface.
Sanguini had it.
Her old potions professor had had it.
But now— she felt its absence. An absence that felt wrong.
His hand lay over hers. "I will help you with your parents. I ask for nothing other than once my business with a rising situation is complete, that you allow me to speak with you about something important."
"Of course, you're helping me with my parents," Hermione said with a choking laugh. "I am more than willing to give you my time."
"Then I will help you with your parents," he said with a swift smile. "But I must sadly leave you after as much as it grieves me."
"You've been very compassionate to me," Hermione said warmly. "Thank you."
"You deserve so much more than what these plebes grovel and claw for," Sanguini said. "They treat you like scum, and they believe they are far above what they think you are."
For a moment, Hermione saw a flash of crimson in his eyes. Power danced over his aura. Deep and compelling. Snape had power much the same, and she'd always felt drawn to it.
"You are more, Miss Granger. So much more," he said. "Never forget that."
Hermione felt the thrum of his power in his touch, closing her eyes to remember its tingle better. It reassured her. It felt right.
And when his hand left she felt suddenly bereft—alone. He saw his mouth part, a soft almost imperceptible hiss escaping his throat. A trail of blood dripped down his cheek from his eyes like crimson tears.
She reached out to comfort him, knowing no other appropriate response. His hand closed on hers and everything felt right again. Warm.
"You've lost someone close to you, too," Hermione said. "I'm sorry."
Sanguini placed his other hand over hers as well, that distinctive warmth dancing across her soul. "I have lost many through the years, but the last was the son of an old friend. It was a death that none of us were prepared for."
His expression softened as he looked down at her. "Thank you. For your empathy. Let's take care of your parents, shall we? I have had enough loss to last many lifetimes."
Hermione smiled and tried not to flinch when his hands left hers.
She tried not to feel as though her soul had stayed with him leaving her empty and alone.
Seeing Sanguini as he was now made Hermione's soul ache. He had always been a powerful, if reserved, wizard. While she knew he was a vampire, he had never treated her like others did. He had always given her a feeling of respect, even when she hadn't a clue why she deserved such a thing.
She, too, had lost so many she cared about during the war.
The loss of Dumbledore had started a chain of loss across her memory. Watching her old potions professor die to Nagini—it made every death seem pointless. Harry had exonerated him, much to Ron's vocal disapproval, due to all the memories he had seen. Snape, he'd said, had been a hero. A brave man.
While Hermione hadn't seen such memories, she'd always respected Professor Snape. He'd been an arse and treated her like dirt, much like everyone else, but he'd been a brilliant, talented wizard with respectable power.
And he'd had a lot on his plate, she knew now.
But the end of the war had been another disappointment. People wanted to rebuild. To make things as they remembered them—but wasn't that just making the same conditions that caused the war in the first place?
Her attempts to free the house elves and bring rights to other beasts and beings, goblins and other races, well, no one cared. Not even the house elves themselves. And the centaurs—they couldn't care less what humans thought of them as long as they stayed out of their forests. Goblins were so used to being treated like shite that they didn't trust any human that even suggested otherwise.
It was doomed to failure from the start.
Hermione placed her hand on the cage bars and yelped as it passed right through it.
The bars were made—to hold either Sanguini himself or a vampire specifically.
It was very powerful magic.
Had Neville?
While she had no doubt that Neville was talented when inspired, what would have inspired him to capture a vampire? What secret did Sanguni have that Neville wanted badly enough—to torture him for it?
Neville wasn't making any effort to stop her from leaving. Surely she could just leave and tell Harry—someone that would listen—
But Neville hadn't been wrong in that no one cared.
Everyone wanted things back to the way they remembered. They were doing their very best to make it so, and that left little room for caring about one missing vampire.
Or even humouring her.
Perhaps especially in humouring her.
Putting her hand through the bars a few times to test if it wasn't a fluke, she realised that the magic was attuned for only one purpose.
Neville had meant to capture Sanguini.
The vampire was watching her closely, his lips pulling back from his teeth like a wild animal baring its teeth at something threatening. Even so, it wasn't the same snarl he'd given Neville.
She felt the hunger. That rat—it was hardly a meal. It was hardly more than a single chip from a basket. A solitary drop of water when what he needed was a full tankard.
Hermione rummaged through her hidden robe pocket for a vial she recognised by feel. She uncorked it, took a swig, and then tucked it away. She grimaced at the taste. Awful.
But if he was hungry—he needed more than just a rat.
Would he attack her like he had wanted to attack Neville?
Did any of the Sanguini she knew—the kind, respectful man—remain?
Was this going to end badly?
She couldn't not help him. At least try.
He'd saved her parents.
He'd given her hope.
That touch he had shared with her had given her so much more than just hope. He'd given her a taste of what genuine respect should have felt like. Compassion.
And she could not leave that compassion behind now that she knew it was because of him that she knew that settling for anything less was insulting everything she'd been trying to fight for—for house elves, centaur, goblins, beings—
Freedom to live her life and be true to herself.
And if she didn't try to help Sanguini, she wasn't being true to herself.
She closed her eyes, wondering what Sanguini had wanted to talk to her about after his tasks were done. He'd seemed so sober and sad—but whether it was sad because of his business or because he was leaving so soon, she really couldn't say.
"I'm sorry that I cannot help you more, but I'm going to try if I leave this place alive." Hermione opened her eyes and stepped across the threshold and into the lion's den.
He was on her in a flash, faster than the eye could track. His arms, like iron bands, entrapped her as he pulled her against him and sank his fangs into her neck.
There was a flash of intense pain as his fangs dug into her flesh seeking her artery, so much so that her eyes felt like the shadows were closing in. She felt his hunger—a deep, gnawing, gut-twisting, inescapable hunger.
She felt her life seeping away and into him, gulp by gulp.
The heaviness spread inexorably through her limbs and mind. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears. She felt the sky crashing down upon her.
And then everything went dark.
She woke to the feeling of a tongue lapping slowly across her neck. A low rumbling like a purr resonated against her body.
Sanguini was cradling her against himself, running his tongue against where his fangs had been, his arms holding her close, tight but not like the iron bars of a prison.
Slowly, tentatively, she raised her hand to touch his cheek. "Are you in there, Sanguini?"
He made no sound, but he nuzzled her gently. He drew a claw against his neck and then pulled her to it, making no sound—no discernable attempt to communicate.
His hand was firm against the back of her head. He didn't move otherwise. When she didn't know how to respond, he shifted her over, drew a claw against his neck again, and guided her back to it.
It was hard not to know what he wanted her to do, but the question was—why?
Sanguini wasn't all there, she knew, but some part of him—some deep instinctive part of him—wanted, needed her to do this one thing.
Drink his blood?
She knew the books about vampires were probably all wrong—but what would it do to her?
But after the third time of being guided back to the offering, she realised there was no way out of this compromising position. But one.
Tentatively, realising that at any moment Neville could return, her mouth covered the offering on his neck as his hand pulled her head tight.
She knew in the depths of her soul that his predatory man—both gentleman and monster—was her future. She could not leave him to suffer, but she most definitely didn't want a life without him.
The moment that warm liquid hit her throat, it felt like the burn of firewhisky through every vessel of her body. She felt as though life was burning its way through her body—that she had never known what life even was until that moment. The moment the blood tore through her, something inside of her cracked as the stronger, familiar essence of him flooded out of her.
"I must ask something of you that requires far more trust than I deserve," Sanguini said, his hand touching her cheek. "I want to tell you—everything—but I need you to trust me."
"Of course," Hermione agreed. "Is this about your trip?"
"It is—" Sanguini said. They looked out over the Australian bush together. "I need you to hold something for me. Something very important. But I cannot tell you what it is, lest you are taken in my place. I have no one to entrust this to. The one I could trust such things to—he is no more. It must be a mortal. It will shelter inside you, but it will not invade you. If something happens to me, one of my kind will find you, and they will say something only you and I could know, and they will take what I have given you with gratitude."
"It sounds like your funeral," Hermione said, her brows both lifting and knitting at the same time.
Sanguini smiled but it was a grim sort of smile. "Amongst my people, I fill an important role, and should I die, it would leave a hole that cannot be filled. This will guarantee the important things will return to my people. I should not go to this task—but I must. I made a promise to come should the words ever be spoken. My word is my bond."
Hermione bit her lip, but she placed her hand over his. "I trust you. I hope you're wrong and you return with a very good story and we have an even better conversation than you promised."
"I promise if I survive, that and more," he said in a whisper. Sanguini smiled. "My feelings for you are very strong. I can only give you a kiss and the promise that I will do everything I can to return to you."
Hermione bit her lip. "You—want me?"
"More than life," he said, pressing his forehead to hers. "More than death."
"It's not fair you have to leave on such a revelation," Hermione said, her face scrunched. "But I know your word has always been immutable. You are true to it."
"We will need to have a very important talk when I return—all I can do for now is ease that longing in case I cannot return." His face was tortured, and he squinted his eyes as he looked down. "You are strong, and you are powerful. Never let small failures taint your journey, for without mistakes we cannot learn. Without failure, we cannot know success and relish its taste."
"You make everything seem so easy," Hermione said.
"I have had so many failures to get here," Sanguini replied. "One of which is why I must leave you now."
He touched her cheek, cradling her face with his palms. "I am glad I could help you with your parents before I had to go. I only wish—I had longer in which to prove my devotion."
"You saved my parents when no other would," Hermione said. "That is proof enough. You have always been kind to me, even as a child at Slughorn's parties."
"I was not at my best in such places," Sanguini said with an awkward smile. "So many hormonal surges and chatter. It was harder than any ambassadorial appointment."
Hermione laughed. "Children are harder than delicate negotiations?"
"I am not permitted to mind roll a child in most situations," Sanguini said with puckered lips.
Hermione laughed. "Touché."
"I wish you could remember this moment, I can only hope when we reunite, I can return it to you."
His head dipped, and his kiss heated her mouth down to her toes, making her grey matter sing and every nerve fire. She never experienced a kiss like this.
Nothing had ever felt—so powerful and so right.
Her magic sang in resonance, and her soul ached for his specific puzzle piece that fit hers.
She belonged with him.
Here in this moment—the future, the past, and all things in between.
Sanguini whispered against her skin, "I will fight tooth and claw to return to you, my love, my brave little lioness. And we will need not be parted again."
In a flash, Sanguini's fangs sank into her neck, his eyes glowing as he pricked his finger on one fang and drew runes down her back in magic. As the runes glowed brighter, the glow in his eyes dimmed—a shadow hidden in the shadow of his normally great power.
He carried her against himself to the guest room her parents had given her, his face torn with conflict. As he tucked her in, he kissed her once last time as a trail of crimson tears flowed down his pale face.
He disappeared in a silent whorl of mist.
Hermione felt boneless as she blearily looked up into Sanguini's glowing eyes. There was still blood on his lips, but there was something sane in his regard. Whatever she had done, somehow, the parts that allowed sanity to return to Sanguini had locked into place.
"My brave, wondrous Hermione," he whispered. "What a horrible place to be the first where we shared blood. I was hoping for a warm night and a long walk on a beach under the Milky Way."
She touched his chin with her fingers. "You're back."
He smiled at her. "Because of you."
Hermione's stomach growled. She gave him a confused, desperate look.
Sanguini's expression was Dark. "Fear not. A good mate always provides."
"Look mate, I know you want to cure your parents and all, and no one is going to miss a damn leech, but why do you keep letting 'Mione come back here? Just Obliviate her, and I can get her to stop fussing over you and pay attention to me," Ron said.
"Because she feeds him, every time," Neville told him. "It lets me interrogate him longer before the next day."
"Whut?" Ron protested. "You're letting her feed the leech?"
"She's always so bloody prepared," Neville said. "She brings a Blood Replenishing Potion everywhere she goes."
"Probably from the war, mate," Ron said. "She used to have to use it on me. Old habits."
"Well, she's inadvertently helping me keep that bloodsucker alive until he can tell me the truth about my parents and help my mother like he promised in her journals!" Neville yelled. "I'm tired of listening to his lies!"
"What lies?" Ron asked.
"I found one of my mum's old letters where Sanguini agreed to help her. She just had to say this specific phrase when she was ready and holding the letter, and he would come and help her," Neville said. "But he didn't because she's in the bloody hospital with no mind, and I want him to fix it!"
"Well, what did he say?" Ron demanded.
"He said she never contacted him," Neville spat. "He said he was going to help her escape my grandmother and a toxic marriage, to shelter her with his people, but it was a LIE! My father was a great man! They LOVED each other!"
Ron stepped back, his brows furrowing. Something about how Neville talked about his parents reminded him of how Harry had always talked about his parents—both had lost their parents in different ways but both didn't have them in the ways that mattered. Both were raised by less than desirable families in replacement. Harry had a perfect image of his parents, and so, it seemed, did Neville.
Ron's brows knit together. "Where did you find those journals? The ones your mum left?"
"They were in a hidden box in the wine cellar, in a false barrel."
"Your mum didn't drink right?"
"Never, it was one of her peeves she wrote about."
"So, why would she hide such things in a wine cellar she would never go to? That's more your grandmother's area, right?"
Neville frowned. "So what? It was a good hiding place!"
Ron seemed to make some connections in his head. "Maybe she wasn't the one hiding them, mate," he said, his expression turning more serious. "Look, I want to help you cure your parents as much as you, believe me. If there was a way to bring back Fred, I'd do it too, but—if she never drank, she'd have no knowledge of the cellar to know which cask was empty. Or which cask wouldn't be used again, ruining the things she was hiding. It makes no sense."
"So, what, my grandmother hid it? Come on!" Neville objected.
Ron looked to the side, thinking. "Yeah, I think that would be more—logical."
"Oh, don't you start getting all smart with your Auror training, mate," Neville said. "You're in this with me, and they aren't going to look the other way if I go down."
Ron shook his head. "Look, I'm just saying—who had the most to lose if your mum left?"
"My father, of course!"
"Your father or—your grandmother?"
"Whut?"
Ron seemed to realise something. "Grandbabies. You can't have grandbabies without a witch," Ron said. "Mum makes that perfectly clear."
"They had me!" Neville said. "Your logic is faulty."
"They thought you were a squib, right?"
"What?"
"Really—you said before. Your uncle threw you out a window to jump start your magic thinking you weren't magical enough," Ron recalled.
"So what?"
"That was after your parents were in Mungos," Ron said. "They all thought you were a squib."
"What does that have to do with it?" Neville yelled.
"I'm just saying, if your Gran thinks anything like my mum, the more grandbabies the better," Ron said. "It's why she won't leave me alone about getting 'ermione to marry me. I just want a chance to ask her, mate. But she keeps coming back here, every day, saying there is something important she needs to talk to you about!"
Neville reddened. "Look, if you want to help me get that leech to sing so you can get to asking 'ermione to have babies with you, go ahead," he spat. "Otherwise, let it go until he finally realises there is no winning until he helps my mum!"
Ron's eyes widened in horror as he saw Hermione's lifeless body sprawled at the bottom of the cell, Sanguini's fangs bared in unmistakable ferocity, his eyes consumed with madness.
"Bloody hell, mate!" Ron cried. "You said he never fed on her to the point of death!"
Sanguini threw himself at the bars, and they shocked him, paralysing him as Neville ran in and pulled Hermione's body free of the cell. The stun wore off, and Sanguini hissed, his saliva pink with mixed blood as he threw himself at the cell again—again, and again. Each time the stun seemed to become less effective and he shook it off more quickly. Each time, the bars started to buckle.
" KILL HIM! " Neville cried as he pulled Hermione's body further away. "I'll start over just like I did when SNAPE DIED! "
Ron's head whipped around to stare at Neville in shock just as Hermione suddenly rose up, took Neville's head between her hands, and buried her newborn fangs into his neck.
Neville's body bucked and thrashed and then went limp as Hermione drank him down.
" SHITE! BLOODY HELL! " Ron exclaimed, his wand coming out. He cast a hasty spell at the stone box on the wall, and the energy bars faded completely.
Sanguini's terrifyingly feral expression changed into one of absolute control and he hurried to Hermione's side. "That's enough, love," he guided her. "Easy now. You have to leave him some blood so he can tell us all about it—" He bit his finger and wiped it across Neville's lips and over his teeth and tongue then dragged a claw across his neck and lured his mate to his more alluring blood.
Sanguini's eyes glowed, his fangs bared in ecstasy as Hermione transferred hungrily to his neck, drinking to the more preferred elixir from her mate.
Ron sat down hard on his bum, letting out a loud grunt of exhaustion. "I know you planned this and all, but fuck me, can you please not make it look so good?" Ron whinged as he held his head in his hands.
"My apologies, Auror Weasley," Sanguini said, his eyes still half-lidded with pleasure. "A Turning is rarely predictable save for the hunger—sanity comes back later after the mind resettles."
"How did you know she would keep coming to you? How did you know you wouldn't have killed her?" Ron asked, obviously weary.
"I am incapable of harming my mate," Sanguini said. "Even in madness. Even in starvation. It is hardwired into our inmortuiology. Nothing ruins a good courtship than killing the one you love."
"Inmortu—nevermind," Ron said, shaking his head. "It still doesn't explain why you couldn't tell her what was going to happen."
"To leave my essence in a living being must be protected with obliviousness—unless they are a non-Turned child of a vampire. Otherwise, thousands of years of me would crash upon her psyche, and she would believe herself to be me—it is more complicated, but that is, as they say, the gist." Sanguini rocked Hermione to him. "She is a tenacious one, my mate," he said tenderly, stroking the hair from her face as she fed.
"It seems her faith in you was not misplaced," Sanguini said. "You convinced him you were just as bigoted as the rest of the Wizarding World. I will admit, I had my doubts about you."
"Always the tone of surprise," Ron said with a heavy chuckle. "Don't worry. I get that lot. That is the one thing I can understand about Neville. He was tired of being underestimated, compared to everyone that came before—his Gran wanted him to be her son in every way. He wanted parents that were perfect. But I learned—because of Hermione—that perfect is a lie. You have to make your own happiness, not live it according to someone else's ideas. I just wish my mum would stop telling me to get married to 'Mione. Like it would solve so many problems."
"Tell her she's happily mated," Hermione mumbled into Sanguini's chest. Her newborn claws curled around her mate's back as she tenderly licked his neck to close her feeding area.
"Not—completely," Sanguini purred. "Yet."
Hermione's other hunger showed in her wide eyes as crimson glowed where her irises should have been.
"Oh no, no vampiric mating in front of the Auror, please," Ron protested.
Sanguini pouted. "But she's so delicious."
"La la la," Ron said. "'Mione doesn't want to hear about Lavender and me, so I shouldn't have to WITNESS what happens between you and 'Mione!"
Ron seemed to realise something, and he searched under his shirt for a medallion, and he held it while saying, "Extortion."
Suddenly, a squad of hypervigilant wand-pointing Aurors arrived in a tumble.
"He's over there," Ron said, waving toward the glassy-eyed Neville. "Please read him his rights under caution. I can't seem to remember them at this moment."
"Neville Longbottom, you are under arrest for the forcible kidnapping and unlawful containment of multiple registered being species, torture, and subjugation. You do have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in Wizengamot. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."
The Aurors quickly had him in restraints and then disappeared with a sharp crack .
"It's sad, you know," Ron said with a sigh. "Neville was a hero for taking out Nagini, but I think the very act of it is what proved to him that he could just take whatever he wanted. That he could be what his Gran always told him he couldn't—strong. Powerful."
"There is a reason the Council rules its people with a combination of strength and fear," Sanguini said. "We do not tolerate—irresponsibility that brings harm to our people as a whole."
"Which is why I am glad I am not a vampire," Ron said with a chuckle. "I barely survived school with normal magical humans. Harry isn't going to believe this. Serves him right for letting Ginny convince him to honeymoon in Africa among all the giraffes and lions."
Hermione hummed and latched back onto Sanguini's neck, and the elder vampire groaned with renewed pleasure, his fangs exposed with nothing short of elation.
"If there will be nothing more, Auror Weasley, I would like to take my mate to the rainforest, get her a Lethifold, and mate her for at least a week to ensure the bond cannot be questioned." Sanguni's crimson eyes locked onto Ron with an unceasing stare.
Ron flailed. "I thought I left that feeling behind when I left Hogwarts and Professor Snape. I—have no further questions. I will, erm, let you contact me when you are, erm, finished."
Sanguinis gaze glinted with predatory amusement. "Wise choice."
They disappeared in a whorl of mist, silent as the grave.
"Creepy," Ron said as he stood up to assist the other Aurors that had remained to catalogue and document every inch of Neville's private torture pad.
Hermione stood next to Sanguini as they moved the body of Severus Snape into a proper sarcophagus for transport back to the Undead Nation. A tall, black-haired man that looked so much like him (if one could imagine him being even taller than his son) stood with his mate, their faces sombre.
"I am sorry, Lord Tobias," Hermione said. "I wish I could have gotten to know him—outside of war and, well, war."
The elder vampire closed his eyes and nodded. "He never showed any signs of Turning like other children of vampires. He continued to age. He left us—unwilling to live a mediocre life amongst my people. Unwilling to be pitied. Judged."
Tobias placed his hand over his mate's. "I wish he would have confided more in me, but I was always a vampire lord to him. I always had to put my people first. Perhaps it was true, but I loved my son and wanted him to succeed."
"He hated feeling lesser," his mum said quietly. "He wanted to be better. To prove himself more than adequate at everything, but he could not beat a vampire in raw strength and speed. It was a battle he could never win, and he hated it."
"Unlike a 'normal' mortal, if there is such a thing, a born vampire cannot be Turned by another vampire. They must self-Turn when they reach maturity." Tobias grimaced awkwardly. "Normally the desire to mate—to have or the drive to have it—jump starts the Turn. It is the strongest emotion we have as a species. Instinct—desire, and need, all smashed together with extra angst when that is denied us."
Eileen blushed. "Tobias smashed through a wall to get to me when Abraxas Malfoy tried to kiss my hand."
Hermione's eyes widened and she eyed Sanguini. "How long were you—fighting that?"
Sanguini grimaced. "From the moment I saw you after the war ended."
Hermione gawped at him "But you—I never—"
Tobias smiled sadly. "Mihail has always been a master of self-control."
"And I thought resisting the craving for chocolate was difficult. I've never tried to bust through a wall to get at it," Hermione mumbled.
"Give it time with vampire strength," Tobias advised.
Hermione gazed down on her dead professor, sadness in her gaze. "He looks like he's sleeping."
Suddenly, she jerked her head up. "Lord Tobias?"
"Hn?" the elder vampire locked gazes with her.
"You said the instinct and desire for a mate triggered the change in born vampires?"
"Yes."
"And this always happens with a mate—someone that is biologically, er, inmortuilogically compatible to them?"
Tobias nodded silently.
"What if a born vampire—is forced to focus on someone else?"
"There can only be one true mate," Tobias said. "We could not have—viable children otherwise."
"But—what if their mind was hijacked before the hormones and maturity kicked in?"
Tobias stared at her. "Share your blood with me, child. I do not understand."
Hermione approached and tilted her head to the side. Tobias struck swiftly, but his arms cradled her supportively. She didn't resist his mind powering through her thoughts, even the memories that made her relive her desperate attempt to give her professor CPR only to have him shove her away and curse at her for not letting him die—
Only for him to be caught by Neville and subsequently murdered.
But the memories focused on Harry's proclamation that Snape had loved his mother and had done everything in her memory—
As Tobias pulled away, his eyes were glowing and his fangs were bared in unmistakable anger.
"This Lily Evans married a mortal? Then she was not—his—how?" Tobias shot a glance at Sanguini who spread his hands in the universal gesture of "I have no idea, please don't murder me."
"And this Potter—he said my son was a spy?"
"He worked both sides," Hermione clarified. "Harry fully exonerated him. His testimony prevented him from being sent to Azkaban as a Death Eater."
"There is no way she could ever have been his mate," Tobias said. "He would have Turned. She could not have resisted the pull anymore than he."
Well, at least it wasn't like my inexplicable crush on him only to have him shove me into the floor for saving his life, Hermione thought, still embarrassed by that bit of uncomfortableness.
Tobias' head jerked up and he stared at her.
"I'm sorry, Lord Tobias," Hermione apologised, casting her gaze down. "I couldn't help it."
"No—you couldn't."
Hermione, confused, looked up.
Tobias was staring at his son and back at her. "Give him your blood, child. Please."
But he can't swallow—her mind protested.
"Please."
Seeing that look on Tobias' face was like looking in the mirror when she begged for someone to help her save her parents—when only Sanguini would.
She knew that feeling all too intimately.
Biting her wrist, she let the blood drip down into Snape's mouth. She let it go until the wound healed, but her wrist again, and continued to let it drip to his mouth until it healed again.
Nothing.
Tobias closed his eyes, and Eileen wept against him.
Hermione looked at Sanguini, moving to bite her wrist again, but Mihail jerked his head no.
Hermione's expression pinched. "I'm sorry, professor," she whispered. She bowed her head and gently pressed one hand over his crossed hands. A crimson tear slid down her cheek and splashed down to his lips, glistening with unintentional memories of him.
Snape's body jerked suddenly, and his mouth was all fangs and snarl. He jerked her down, sinking his fangs into her neck with a roar, and Hermione twitched and went limp as he drank from her. His arms wrapped around her, a low groan escaping his mouth as he drank deeply. Sanguini, sensing his mate's sinking into lethargy, drew a claw down the side of his neck and transferred Severus to him, allowing Hermione to recover enough to take the offered blood fruits that Eileen managed to pull out of nowhere.
As Sanguini began to teeter, Tobias slid a claw over his neck and transferred the ravenous Severus to his neck until Eileen had to do the same. By the time Eileen was weakening, Hermione was ready again.
She tipped back a blood-replenishing potion, drained a blood grapefruit or eight, and then slid a claw over her neck.
Severus latched onto her, his arms wrapping around her tightly, his body trembling as he wept, his tears flowing down his face as he drank from her.
"I'm sorry," he rasped. "I'm sorry."
Hermione and Sanguini drew him into their combined embrace.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Hermione said, her eyes closing.
As Hermione weakened into their combined embrace, she said, "We may need a few more blood fruit trees."
Tobias choked a laugh as he held his almost hysterical and emotional mate to his chest. "I will take care of it. Right after I dig up the grave of Albus Dumbledore and mutilate his corpse."
If anyone had any objections, no one was talking.
Neville came to in a dim room and looked around. He recognised the table in his gran's house—
His father was sitting at it.
"You will do what is right for this family, Frank," his gran said.
"I have a son," his father said.
"A useless son with no magic," his gran said harshly. "You need to have another. One that has magic."
"There is a war going on, Mum."
"Who cares about a war when the family does not have heirs! Magical heirs!" Augusta yelled, slamming her hand down on the table so hard the tea service jumped.
Neville tried to lean closer, but his body went through the nearby wall—this was a memory?
He fell into another room, even darker than before.
His mum was there—and a pale man with neat, long hair pulled into a ponytail and war braids at his ears. His eyes were crimson; his hands tapered into dangerous claws.
"You are asking to be Turned?" Sanguini said carefully. "Are you certain this is what you want?"
"I just can't live with her anymore, Lord Sanguini," Alice said, wringing her hands in clear distress. "Once my affairs are in order, I wish to be Turned. I will move to the Nation, and will work however you wish me to in order to earn your protection."
Sanguini's brows knit together. "We are not a prison colony, and I will not be your pimp or jailor," Sanguini said. "That is not how Turning works. "You will have a job just like you would in the Muggle or Wizarding World, paying for your own residence and food once you are established and taught about control, our laws, and vampire society. We would find a master of a line who is more suited to you, and you would be Turned by them. You do not strike me as someone who dives into ambassadorial duties, nor would you be into hand-to-hand combat. It would take some time to find the right match, then, if you still wished it, you would be Turned."
"Of course I wish to be Turned!" Alice exclaimed. "Why wouldn't I?"
"There are other ways to disappear in the world, child," Sanguini said. "Ways you can save yourself and your son, if that is what you truly desire."
"Neville is just a baby!" Alice said. "He's not shown any magic so far, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have any! He just needs a chance, and they're already treating him like a failure!"
"To be clear, I am not rejecting you, Mrs Longbottom," Sanguini said gently. He placed a large sack on the dresser. The mouth was partially open to show a variety of precious gems. Expensive ones.
"Take these to Gringotts and create a new account under your maiden name or a made up one. Tell the goblins the word "sanctuary" and they will help you. Use these gems to flee the country with your child and test the waters somewhere else. If you cannot make a life in a new place, then take this letter, hold it in your hand, and say the words on the inside, and I will come to you."
Alice held the letter to her breast and nodded. "Okay."
Sanguini closed his eyes after she stood, crimson power leaking from his eyes. "Try to make a life in the living world before fleeing to the world of the dead, Mrs Longbottom. If you come to the Nation, your son will never see Hogwarts. He would be safe, but he would never see the places where you made your most poignant memories. And most importantly, as a new Turn, you would not be able to tolerate the sun for even a little while. Think on that, please."
Alice nodded her head. "Thank you, Lord Sanguini."
The vampire bowed his head. "I hope to see you again in better times."
And then he was gone.
Neville found himself in another memory.
His mum was sprawled on the floor, papers scattered everywhere.
His gran stood over her with a scowl on her face as she thrust the bag of gems into Frank's hands. "Take these and put them in our family vault. I will clean up this mess. She was going to use them to leave you with that broken useless baby. So you take those gems to Gringotts while I ensure that she'll follow you to the ends of the Earth like a proper wife."
Frank silently bowed his head and left with the bag of gems, not even sparing a backward glance at his wife lying on the bedroom floor.
Neville followed the shade of his Gran down to the cellar where she placed the bundled papers, correspondence, and sealed magical letter from Sanguini into an old wine cask.
"No," Neville groaned. "This can't be true. It can't be!"
Neville found himself expelled from a Pensieve, landing hard on his rump in the middle of the Wizengamot chambers. Hundreds of witches and wizards were looking down at him, some of them writing, some of them staring at him, and some of them were chattering quietly to each other. Around him floated frozen scenes of his various criminal acts—his torture of Snape, his torture of Sanguini, his Obliviation of Hermione every time she left so she would come right back the next day as if nothing of import had happened.
Perhaps, most importantly, his genius cell bars that let anyone in—but not always out.
Countless suspicious Aurors had found his torture site, but they had all fallen victim to the ravenous Sanguini in the first days before Hermione had begun to visit.
Until the only ones left to become suspicious were too busy trying to rebuild their lives to care about one missing leech.
And he'd used the gems in that old sack hidden in the family vault to pay for the expensive custom enchantments that had been crafted to hold a very specific vampire.
And hide Snape's corpse.
The Wizengamot did not even bother to ask him any more questions. Neville couldn't remember if they had asked him anything before—
He looked up around the seated wizards and witches and saw a horrifyingly familiar sight: Sanguini sat in the audience, Hermione at his side, and the bloody Snape himself next to her.
Impossible!
Snape was dead!
They stood together.
"If you will pardon us," Sanguini said. "We must recuse ourselves from this vote."
The Head Mugwump nodded to Sanguini as the trio walked out of the room, not even sparing a dumbfounded Neville so much as a cursory glance.
That was when Neville saw the place where his Gran normally sat.
It was empty. No, not just empty. The seat itself was gone.
"All who believe Mr Neville Longbottom guilty of multiple counts of false imprisonment, torture…"
Neville's hearing faded. The wizard's mouth was moving but all he heard was a ringing in his ears.
"... guilty," the Head Mugwump said, rapping his hammer. "You are to be confined to Azkaban for no less than twenty years before reevaluation. The entire sentence—forty years. May the Dementors have mercy on you."
Neville was shoved into a points-in iron holding cage and promptly taken away.
Hermione lay limply nestled in a Lethifold nest with Sanguini spooning her back while she snuggled into Severus' chest. "I'm not sure how I got here, but I'm so glad I am," she murmured.
"I will admit that I did not ever suspect this would be in my future," Severus murmured into her curls. One claw drew across his neck to lure his mate to feed. He didn't have long to wait as Hermione's arms locked around him and her mouth found his neck with a soft hum of contentment.
"Hungry are we?" Severus chuckled.
"I'm feeding for three," Hermione mumbled into his neck.
Severus' eyes widened. "Truly?"
"Healer Aeson was quite adamant," Sanguini said with a quirk of the lips. "Twins are in our future. Ready or not."
Severus quirked his lips in response. "That certainly explains the Lethifold migration."
"They do tend to sense new victims to bond with," Sanguini mused. "Though if that is the case, I suspect your parents are expecting as well."
Severus gulped. "Father?"
"Unless you have another Tobias and Eileen in your life," Sanguini said in between chuckles.
"I think they were so ecstatic about your return that they celebrated well into the night," Hermione added, licking Severus' neck gratefully.
"I'd rather not think about my parents copulating, thank you," Severus said, looking a little green in the face.
Hermione playfully swatted him with the back of her hand. "They are a perfectly loving couple!"
"They're my parents! They aren't allowed to—to—act like horny teenagers fornicating in the Astronomy Tower!" Severus protested.
Sanguini laughed heartily. "Oh, child, you're going to have to get used to that," he chortled. "In Rome he was quite a ladies man. Even more so than I with that delightful Roman nose."
"I am not listening to you," Severus said as he smothered Sanguini under a pillow.
Sanguini flailed around as if he were a mortal struggling to breathe before Hermione rescued him and placed a long snog upon his mouth.
"Mmm," Sanguini murmured.
"Don't encourage that mouth," Severus grunted.
Hermione smiled wickedly as she pulled Severus closer. "Maybe I want to encourage both of your mouths. Right now."
Severus' eyes widened as a predatory glint was shared between him and Sanguini. "As my lady commands," he rumbled as both vampires sandwiched their mate between them and got their mouths in all kinds of trouble.
And they all lived defiantly and happily ever after…
A/N: I tried to make this a Sanguini story, but Severus wouldn't stay in the damn grave! Hey, who though Ron was going to be his normal jerkarsed self? Hehehe.