Title: Following Directions (Trick or Treat Prompt #1)
Author: CorvusDraconis
Rating: M for safety
Warnings: Weasley bashing, demons
Prompt it contains: Trick: Ashwinder dust, occamy eggs, smoky quartz ground fine, someone has tampered with this ritual's instructions.
Summary: Partners Hermione Granger and Severus Snape work together to do what most cannot: the job of the hit wizard and witch.
Link: /works/59350522/chapters/151513759
Your team: Vampires
Card Name: Bonfire
Square #: B
Square #: 1
Link: /works/59350522/chapters/151513759
Line Y/N?: (Down, Across, Diagonal) N
Blackout Y/N? N
Your Team: Vampires
Beta Love: Dutchgirl01 the Super Sneaky Ninja Sniffer of Hidden Documents, Commander Shepard the Suspiciously Absent, Dragon and the Bulldozer
Following Directions
"Our instructions need to include both what to do, and why it is important."
—Belinda Letchford
Hermione carefully eased into the darkened chamber, every sense on high alert as though she'd been thrown back in time to the war.
It was silent except for a strange magical buzzing—the sound of energy moving in a cyclone and forced to stay in a particular place and pattern. It reeked of power and control but also something distinctly forbidden.
Her partner pressed against her back, and she took comfort from it. He was perhaps the only one she would ever be able to say she trusted watching her back with and to. While Harry was no slouch at being an Auror, her job required catching and apprehending the most desperate of wizards and witches—those that didn't care what laws or rules they broke as long as they got what they wanted.
Many had asked her why she would take on such a dangerous job when she had been deprived of a childhood oblivious to the pains of the world, but it was because of her premature maturity that she found herself with such a burden. She knew the dark side of humanity.
If she and Severus didn't not do her job, those like Tom Riddle would soon rise in his shadow, eager to do whatever it took to get whatever they wanted.
Even things more appalling than the unforgiveables, perhaps.
She supposed it depended on the one seeing it being done.
As it was, she'd seen a lot of things far worse than her torture by Bellatrix Lestrange. She'd been thrown into someone's magic circle in their attempt to harness the power of the Philosopher's Stone in the footsteps of Flamel, she'd been thrown into a pit of starving Lethifolds (and was, oddly, adopted, much to the wizard's absolute horror when she floated out and sicced about twenty hungry Lethifolds on his face), broken up a black market trade in gargoyle pups and had about ten of them following her around until she managed to travel to Notre Dame and give the entirely suspicious pups back to their supposed clan of origin.
In order to "transfer" custody, the clan performed an adoption ritual and absorbed her into their clan, thus allowing the pups that had imprinted on HER during the chaos and fight for survival to actually consider the actual gargoyles' family.
It had been quite complicated.
She sprouted wings and a tail and gained a propensity to chew on rocks and gemstones and facet them into fine faceted gems and cabochons whenever she was stressed.
She tried not to let the heckling from the other DoM agents get to her.
Tried, anyway.
They stopped laughing at her when the goblins gave her the first deposit for the "random" gems she chewed to perfection while filling out the latest paperwork from Amelia regarding the wizard she atomised (by accident) by dropping a long-lost shipwrecked galleon (the actual ship) on him.
She'd gotten quite an impressive reward for finding the ship, and she got to watch her colleagues eat their tongues in envy.
Whether it was respect for her new source of income or the realisation they didn't want to end up like that poor sod still remained to be seen.
It seemed that she was a magnet for sheer dumb luck and strange phenomena.
Minerva would certainly agree about the former, at the very least.
As she walked along, her free hand remained within Snape's, her fingers signing a plan as she went. Most of what they did was silent. They could not afford to be heard. They could not risk being distracted by the sound of their own voices.
This was how it had been for years.
Intimacy in silence.
They had been signing to each other so long, they rarely spoke out loud, even after the assignment was complete.
They had created a shorthand of their signing language, making even the normal "quick" signs even shorter. They were so good at it that most people thought they were speaking telepathically. That amused her.
Snape's finger drew across her palm in a direction and a plan. And she knew he was going to the left to check out the other side, so she moved to the right, checking the walls carefully so she could put her back to the wall and look out into the room.
It was mostly dark and silent, save for the distinctive half-roar of magic. It was magic she could feel more than she heard it, but hear it she did, regardless. She knew Severus was more attuned to the slightest sound and scent, even more so than she was—at least before she'd been adopted by gargoyles.
Now, it seemed they were pretty much on par with each other, but he still had far more experience processing what he sensed. As the newly adopted, her skillset was still being tested and learnt.
She wondered often how he was able to keep such senses well-honed when he'd had to be around loud boisterous schoolchildren for years. He obviously loved his solitude. She considered it amazing that he tolerated her—ever.
Still, their record of success spoke louder than words, and the two of them were exceptional at finishing their assignments so efficiently that they had extra days to themselves to unwind. Amelia Bones, the Head Boss of You of the DoM, insisted they take such time. She wanted them sharp and ready, and she brokered no exceptions. That was how her teams succeeded while others in the Ministry failed miserably.
It was also why her people would bend over backwards to do whatever she needed when there was a crunch.
Madam Bones took good care of her people, and they would do the same for her if need be. Unlike a certain twinkly-eyed old bastard, she gave her people all the information she could unless doing so would get them killed, and they all trusted her to tell them what they needed. She ran her ship tightly and efficiently, and Hermione knew from experience that they would all jump and expect gravity to suspend service until she alone said when to fall.
But she didn't hold anyone's hand, either.
She offered expert training, and they were expected to make the most of it. They were expected to use it well. And as her crack squad of hit wizards and witches were the very best of the best, none of them ever turned down a chance to learn new skills.
Not even Severus, whom she suspected didn't really need the training but used it as an opportunity to gloat about it.
Silently.
He was always good at his silent talent of wearing the kind of expressions that made someone want to curl up in a foetal position and hide under their desk.
With the room checked, they met up together at the other side of the room, and Hermione could tell that Severus was already on edge. He hated mysteries, reckless idiots, and ignorance.
It was amazing that he survived as long as he had as a teacher, to Hermione's mind.
Without, she figured, murdering them all.
She could relate.
Her tolerance for stupidity and ignorance had grown much worse after the war.
A lot worse.
Satisfied that the room was clear, they pressed their hands together to signal that they would go forward at the same time. Going together, they stepped into the next room, ready for the need to dive back into the previous room at a moment's notice.
They were forced to squint in reaction to the brighter light in the centre of the room, but when they were able to focus properly again, they exchanged identical looks of incomprehension.
There in the centre of a circle surrounded by a whirling vortex of magic was—
"Bloody hell," Severus' voice broke the silence, and Hermione couldn't blame him.
He was suspended in the magical circle.
Hermione shot him a look.
He jerked his head, his eyebrows telling her all she really needed to know. He had no idea how he was both inside and outside of the circle.
At first glance, both Snapes looked identical. But as Hermione looked closer, she saw the pointed ears, claws that tapered from his fingertips and his lank black hair hung from his head like oily curtains.
They both looked at a nearby chalkboard where an elaborate array of equations and circles marked out components to an even more complex spell.
"This spell—" Hermione said slowly. "I remember it from our textbook. Ashwinder dust, Occamy eggs, finely ground smoky quartz—"
"Someone has tampered with this ritual's instructions," Severus said, his expression still fighting with conflicting thoughts on how to feel about finding his monstrous doppelganger in a magical circle.
"How do you know?" Hermione asked.
"It used to list freshly drawn blood," Severus said. "It's a circle designed to protect yourself against a vampire. But with the changes I see here—it's meant to keep a vampire IN the circle."
"But this—" Severus made the gestures instead of speaking. Habit, perhaps, or simply easier in the comfort of his partner's easy communication. "This is a complexity I do not see even in theoretical or hypothetical debates."
Hermione frowned. "We need to lock this place down," she signed. "And set an ambush in the case someone comes back before we can figure out what this is."
Severus nodded silently, and he took an object from his robes and blew on it, and it flew into a whorl of plasma and disappeared. They joined hands as they wove a web around themselves and then the room, making sure their safety net and sensory nets were woven together flawlessly. Only when they were sure it was secure did they drop their hands.
Severus looked at her with concern, seemingly uneasy without her accustomed touch. While a normal person might not have seen it, Hermione had worked with him for too long to miss it. He was worried. Rattled. And he was worried for her because of this unknown "him" inside that vortex.
Hermione took his hand again, for once not to say anything involving the case. Perhaps, it was to reassure him. Perhaps, it was to reassure herself.
The warmth of his hand closed around hers, and for but a moment she felt her traitorous mind derail into a need that she had not had to face in all the times they had touched.
Desire for him.
Impossible, she knew, because his history was well known. His once private past, blurted out by Harry in front of the Dark Lord, was exposed. Severus Snape had loved Harry's mum. Everything he had done was for her memory.
But in that rush when his need to keep her safe triggered a moment of neediness, she wanted to feel his arms around her, to wallow in his scent of herbs and woodsmoke.
She wanted what she couldn't have.
She had never had to face it when in the thick of a mission before. Survival had always been upfront first. Emotions and her pathetic needy self had always been shoved into a box and buried, Occluded even to herself.
There was an exquisite pain in it. A need that sent her stomach into her feet and her mind convinced that death was possible through the loss of his touch.
She forced her neediness back into that box, giving Severus an apologetic half-smile as she pulled her hand away.
The moment she did, however, the vampiric doppelganger awoke and threw himself at the barriers, fangs and claws bared against some invisible threat. The barrier strained against the sudden violence, and the vampire's eyes were glowing with incandescent rage. Runes that were invisible, glowed in the air, feeding the barrier a different sort of magic.
With that roll of power, however, her partner crumpled with a grimace of pain, and Hermione's valiant attempt to separate herself from her feelings promptly went straight to Hades.
Her tail shot out around him, snagging him from falling, but the strength of it was far more than she'd remembered having, and he sailed up only to crash into her, his arms crushing around her as they both went toppling to the floor today in an impromptu embrace as her wings instinctively wrapped around him like a cocoon, and her clutter of communal adoptive Lethifolds wrapped themselves around them both.
The magical barriers surrounding the doppelganger flared as they fell together on the floor, but strangely, that maddened angry look faded. He placed a hand on the barrier, staring into the room with a look that seemed somehow lost—searching.
As Hermione untangled herself from Severus with a whisper of apologies, Severus' cheek brushed against hers, a trickle of his breath against her skin, she wanted him.
It took every bit of will she had not to wrap her wings around him and pull herself to him again.
But the moment Severus was no longer touching her, the doppelganger's rage returned, and he threw himself violently against the magical barrier with that molten tangible wrath. Severus quickly threw himself over her, shielding her in case some other magic intended her harm, and the moment they touched, the doppelganger calmed.
And perhaps, even more baffling—the barrier seemed to flicker and break down.
"What?" she signed, automatically switching to the silent language they shared in the deepest of missions.
Severus jerked his head, grimacing. "I don't know," he signed back.
It was then, however, that they felt something trembling in the web they had created. They quickly shoved themselves against the darkest wall, and Hermione used her wings to cloak them, her skin shifting colour like a chameleon to match the textures and colours of the wall in exacting detail.
"We shouldn't have left for so long, Lil," James said worriedly as he followed her into the room.
"It won't be long until we can return for good," Lily said with a huff. "Besides, this creature might be able to survive without food or drink, but we still need it."
James sat in the chair as Lily checked all the rune wards.
The vampire trapped in the containment circle snarled and bashed himself against the energy barriers.
"Stop it," Lily demanded, feeding the protective runes with magic, and magic swirled around the vampire and forced him to the ground."
"That thing is unnatural," James said in disgust. "Even after watching over this place for years. Never ageing. No words. Just snarling and glaring.
"Well, it's the only thing keeping us protected until Dumbledore tells us it's safe to return, but it has to be soon," Lily snapped. "It must be time for us to leave here. I'm tired of living in this hole."
"We're alive, Lil," James pointed out. "At least we're not living in St Mungos drooling like poor Frank and Alice. We could easily be dead, you know."
Lily huffed. "I know. I KNOW—but surely this stupid war is over and done by now? We should try to contact someone."
"Who, exactly?" James asked with a huff. "Sirius murdered Peter, and Remus is probably lost to us too."
"I'm so tired of being here," Lily complained, scowling. "I'm damned tired of staring at Sev every day and owing him our lives."
"You think I enjoy knowing that greasy git is the sole reason we're still alive?" James scoffed. He frowned. "Something's different about him though. He's—it—is growing more aware of us. Keeps trying to get out. Not like before when he just stood there. Just like us. It's like we all need to get out of here."
"That must mean the war is over," Lily said.
"But Dumbledore—"
"Maybe he's DEAD!" Lily hissed.
James jerked his head. "No, that's simply not possible."
Lily shook her head. "I never thought we'd be stuck in this place for almost 28 years either. We could have been out there fighting all along."
"I always thought this would be a short term thing," James admitted. "But the longer we're here I wonder why we weren't out there fighting."
"I had that strange dream again."
James frowned. "The one where we had a son?"
Lily shivered. "It was so real. Almost—makes me think that was why we went into hiding in the first place. But—if that was why we went into hiding, then why wouldn't he be with us?"
"Not that this would be a good place to raise a child," James mumbled. "Oh, this, son? Just an immortal part of a vampire forced to be here to power our safe place, and no, you can't go outside and play."
Lily frowned, then grimaced. "Why didn't we ever question more?"
James shook his head. "Fear." He gestured to the contained vampire. "Fear of what's waiting out there had us so focused on maintaining the wards that we never had time to do anything else. Hell, I don't even know what day it is in my head. Or even the year. We only leave to tend that garden, and we don't see any other people. I don't even know what year it is."
As James paced, he stepped too close to the whirling vortex, and the vampire inside snarled, attacking the wall where he was enough to send a blast of magic out.
"The hell?!" James yelped, whipping out his wand to point it at the barrier. "Did you reinforce the runes?!"
"Of course I did!"
"It's like he knows where we are now!" James yelled. "If he agreed to this, why is he trying to get out?"
Lily flipped through a few of their old books and notes. "Part of Sev is still out there, James!"
"Well, maybe he wants his SOUL BACK!" James yelled. "Because it sure seems like he's not content to be here anymore!"
He picked up one of the tomes. "There has to be something in here that explains what would cause the wards to break down."
"True love," Lily said with a snort, throwing down a tome.
James gave her a look. "Snape finding true love?"
"That's what it says," Lily said. "It's the only thing that would reunite—this part of him with the part left behind. The only thing that would break down this barrier. Which is why Dumbledore was sure it would last indefinitely."
James shoved the book away from himself with a disgusted snort. "So Snape is out there finding true love and we're rotting out here with his vampiric self. Didn't even know the git was a bloody vampire."
Lily winced. James jerked his head up. "No way. He didn't know either? How did you know?"
"If you'd read these books and notes you'd have found out too," Lily said darkly.
James waved his hand. "I can't read Dumbledore's awful handwriting."
The lights began to flicker as the magic that powered them seemed to waver. The barrier in the middle shimmered, and the vampire inside placed a clawed hand against the surface, his black eyes shimmering with malevolent crimson fire. He slowly pressed one claw into the whirling magic and cut into it, and it made a disturbing scraping sound. His fangs bared with a cruel curl, and his hair was starting to whip around as though there was a wind.
Lily frantically tried to retrace the runes, but the runes glows brightly nd shattered one by one like dropped pottery.
"Lily, what's going on?" James yelled as the magical vortex rose, the wind blowing parchments and books around the room.
As the vampire's hair blew about it grew longer, and his face seemed to shift slightly—older. Chiselled as if from stone. His expression—more cruel. Malice glowed within the crimson fire. His fingers jerked, twisting into longer and more lethal-looking talons, long as an eagle's.
He placed his talons on the barrier and dragged them down the energy barrier. "Supprime tuum stultiloquium."
His eyes focused on James. "Vae te, mortalis."
The voice was deeper. Older. No longer that of a teen on the verge of adulthood.
His hand clenched and he made a gesture in the air, bit his hand, and painted the air with blood runes that glowed and grew, flashing brightly as they novaed outward in a blast of searing heat.
And then he stepped out of the vortex. He tilted his head, and the bones in his neck cracked as they realigned. "To think, I was trapped here listening to you yammer on like fearful ants only for you to be supremely ungrateful for the great boon of life. If it so displeases you, then please allow me to remove it."
His hand moved to grasp James by the throat, and suddenly Severus was there blocking him. Vampire and mortal aspects stared at each other—wand to the vampire's neck as the vampire's claws dug into the man's neck.
Severus made a series of rapid signals with one hand, and suddenly Lily and James screamed in terror as they were smashed together and securely bound by Lethifolds, both under the curve of a great gargoyle wing.
"Go," Severus gestured.
Hermione shook her head.
"Save them," he gestured.
Tears flowed down Hermione's cheeks. "I love you," she said out loud.
Severus closed his eyes, one tear flowing down his face. "I love you, too."
He signalled something to her, silent and as automatic as their habit—in sign. "Always."
He summoned his magic and blasted his vampire-self back into the barrier, casting a series of runes around the barrier vortex and Hermione choked out a sob, wrapped her wings around the Potters, and Disapparated.
Hate all you've become
And burn for a ray of the sun
And find two tears of blood run
I am the only one
-Annaca Catherina Espach from the song "I Am The Only One"
Severus stood in the circle, locked in mortal combat with his primordial soul. The magic around them howled—deafening. Cracks in the sanctuary were causing the walls to tumble and the library to crumble and fall. Sunlight began to filter in through the cracks, causing the vampire's skin to hiss and seethe as it smoked. But the vampire's innate hate and magic were tearing him apart just as much.
A tear fell from each of their eyes at the same time—pink unto the dark crimson of blood.
His life debt to Potter finally gone, Severus wished he'd gotten to tell Hermione how much he loved her. How he loved the way she always stirred her coffee anti-clockwise but her tea clockwise. How her hair had been a glowing halo in the morning sun. How she smelled of ink and parchment and ancient stone bathed in petrichor. How her eyes held the sunlight long after the sun had set. How the touch of her soft skin made him feel alive again. How her tail always twitched whenever she was thinking really hard about maths or ways to dispose of the bodies of those that really pissed her off. How she unfailingly smiled at him no matter how spiteful he was feeling that day. How she let him make her tea. How she snuggled into his warmth during their stakeouts—trusting him to protect her. How in her sleep, her wing would instinctively wrap around him, pinning him against her that both made everything awkward, yet he'd never wanted it to end. The way she hummed softly to herself when memorising complicated spells. The way his name sounded on her lips even as if felt against his hand in their secret language of silence.
"I love you," he said calmly as the magic tore him apart even as the walls came down and ripped into his vampiric soul.
A secondary trail of tears fell from his other eye—as bright crimson blood.
And the room exploded in a roaring vortex of magic.
Hit witch Hermione Granger set her jaw as she watched Harry joyfully reunite with his long-believed-to-be-dead parents. She tried to be happy for her friend, knowing how much he had suffered, but she found no emotion for him.
All that she had had—withered and died when she'd Disapparted to bring Lily and James Potter to safety.
As she was ordered.
As she was expected to do.
As she was celebrated for—
But she couldn't scrape up even one iota of care.
It didn't matter that some long lost memory came rushing back to the Potters of their baby son.
It didn't matter that Lily and James were both crying even as Harry was.
Her partner was gone.
Her grumpy, snarky, brilliant Severus Snape.
There could be no one else that could keep up with their fast silent language. No one that could read her easily from across a crowded room. To know she loved the scent of coffee but hated the taste of it. To know how she admired the working of his fingers as he brewed—the crease between his eyes when he was writing parchments for Amelia Bones. Which ink he used unfailingly, even refusing to use anything else if it wasn't right. The way he refused to make any conversation silent or otherwise until he had at least two cups of tea and a couple dark chocolate digestives in him. How he'd slump against her while they were out on stakeout and drool on her robes. The sound of his voice—that rumbling voice that could read her the Treatise Against the Overuse of Murtlap in Potions and she would be perfectly happy. The feel of their silent language—skin against finger, finger against palm, and a hundred thousands small gestures known only to them.
She let out a shuddering breath, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, trailing down her cheeks as she blinked furiously, biting her lip.
In that moment of overwhelming grief, she could suddenly understand how Dark Wizards and Witches were born. In that terrible moment, she would have murdered Harry's parents for their part in Severus' death.
And she wouldn't have cared.
Not even a little.
She would have used forbidden necromancy to pull Albus Dumbledore from his grave and give him just enough awareness to suffer as she burned his body to ash.
And she finally understood the true difference between light and Dark magical folk.
There wasn't.
There were only those with sufficient self control and those who let magic walk all over them.
For better and for worse, Hermione Granger had a lot of self-control. She'd been taught by the very best, after all.
She turned away from Harry and his parents, looking upward before to the side as she contemplated where she was going to go. One wing unfolded, then another, her tail lashing wildly from side-to-side as her more human features faded. She took flight, her skin shifting as she seemingly disappeared into thin air.
When Harry finally remembered to look up and thank his friend, Hermione Granger was long gone.
Hermione kept a silent watch over the ruins of the place that had stolen her future. Her possibility. Her dream.
She had been content to keep things as they were with him at his side, but now that he was gone, there was only unquiet as if the graveyard was full of Inferi.
Amelia had told her to take as much time as she needed, but Hermione had no idea how close to an eternity of grief she was going to get. She had a feeling it was going to be pretty damn close to forever.
Perhaps, she would allow herself to fall into the hibernation of gargoyles—when their bodies shifted into stone to weather the years without pain or sorrow. She shifted her weight, trying to decide on a position to be in, part of her wondering if she'd wake up covered in graffiti or some other such humiliation.
Maybe she would feel better when the majority of the world didn't remind her of him.
She closed her eyes.
She was ready.
She didn't want to feel anymore.
A whisper against her hand.
"Don't go."
Their language.
Her eyes shot open, and he was there, his skin so pale he could have been an ancient Greek statuary. Pointed ears. Taloned hands. Perfectly moonlit fangs.
"I'm sorry," he signed. "It took me a while to—pull myself back together."
He grimaced. "Literally," he said aloud.
Hermione let out a strangled sob as she wrapped her arms and wings tightly around him. He pulled her to him, blood tears streaming down his face.
He combed her curls with his hand.
"Stay with me," he signed. "Until the end of all things."
"Be my mate," he said out loud. "Now and forever."
Hermione sobbed into his chest, silently nodding. "Yes," she said, sniffling. "Yes. Yes, and yes."
"Sweet girl," he signed as he dipped his head to capture her mouth with his. "I will never leave you again."
As his fangs sank into her neck, her tail and wings wrapped around him, drawing him close.
High atop Notre Dame, Hermione and Severus launched from atop the high peaks and sailed together over the sleeping city below.
The clan watched over their sleeping pups, but on this night, they patrolled their shared home in search of Dark witches and Wizards up to no good.
"The trail leads north," Hermione signed to him, her taloned finger tracing into his hand, her other hand signalling subtly of place, colour, and scent.
Severus' teeth flashed brightly as he signalled a plan. She'd take the right, him the left. They would drive them screaming into the Seine just before sending them as a Lethifold-wrapped care package to Amelia.
Ameila hated dirty criminals, after all.
It was only polite to make sure they were properly washed before sending them straight to hell, erm, the DoM.
Missing maybe a few bites worth of flesh.
Lethifolds had to eat, too.
It was only fair.
Their tails entwined in a version of a flying hug, they touched wingtips before parting in their assigned directions.
Far, far away in the UK, Amelia opened one eye when the wards around her office containment unit snapped into place as a new delivery arrived.
"Tend to it in the morning, love," Manfred said through a massive yawn, wrapping his wing around her in a cuddle.
Amelia snuggled into her mate, smiling. "Good job," she said.
And they lived vampoyle-ically ever after—
