Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

In the Darkness in Which We Are Made	By : corvusdraconis Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 24670 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: HP world still not mine. HP characters not mine. Alas. I still play in JKR’s sandbox. Rita Skeeter is still a daft cow. I'm not making money off of this.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter 6: We Were Once Family
Hermione yawned with a slight squeak in the cocoon of comforting darkness and sighed contentedly. Her nostrils flared slightly as she caught the slightly stronger scent of bergamot wafting off her mate’s skin, and she smashed her face into his side, burrowing under his arm, and inhaling the stronger patch of scent that was waiting for her.
Her small, human hands danced across the landscape of her mate’s textured skin. Sometime during the night, she had shifted into her human shape, but she felt no discomfort in it. Now that she and her demon were tightly bonded, shifting between forms was easy and natural, and she felt at home in both.
Her relationship with “her demon,” as she called her affectionately, was not truly two separated entities now that they were joined; it was, rather, a decision to determine which personality traits were more suited for the task at hand. Demon thoughts were, as to be expected, stronger and more passionate, whether it was positive or negative. Demons, however, did not fathom humans well for any purpose other than tools to be used or food to be eaten. “Human Hermione” was a more human socialised demon. “Demon Hermione,” while able to fake most social interactions, did not fathom humans as well. Whatever empathy and identification she may have had when dealing with her student peers was not going to happen when the demon was close to the surface. Severus had said it was, unfortunately, one of the side effects of the Change.
The both of them, however, had begun to realise that perhaps they had it all wrong. The demon, when fully embraced, adapted and learned much faster, and the reward was an even tighter bond between human and demon. The demon protected what was theirs, and that encompassed their human counterpart— something it could not have understood without the bond. All and all, it was a terribly confusing mess, but it all came down to both Severus and Hermione being truly comfortable in who or what they were, and that gave them power over demons who did not have that advantage.
It was hard to believe that only a few weeks had passed since Harry’s ritual had taken place. While the results were not what Harry had hoped for, he could be considered the matchmaker that brought Hermione and Severus together. Never would they had been able to find the completeness that they now experienced if they had continued their lives as humans. The very thought of Severus living through his existence never finding someone to share in his life brought sadness to her heart as she snuggled deeper into his embrace. She smiled sweetly into his skin as she felt his wings tighten around her, as if he was afraid she would slip away from him.
Hermione found her concept of age even more addled after her Change. It was really hard to focus on age when you no longer did. Technically, thanks to her time-turning escapades, she was almost nineteen, so at the very least she would not forever remember herself as a perpetual fifteen year old. She had spent a lot of time-turning in her third year in an attempt to complete almost every course Hogwarts had available to offer, and it had aged her more than most people realised. She had kept her old September birthday like a novelty as one would collect stamps, but instead of measuring herself in age, it was now about a measure of power.
Power was different too. Demons were capable of some really spectacular things, but the most of their phenomenal power came when contracted to do tasks, and that was the only time they used it. All demons were powerful, but to them it was normal. The closest comparison Hermione could make was, if you had bunch of wizards and witches that all knew every spell wandless and soundlessly, it wasn’t exactly going to be a big surprise when one of them started a fire without either. All demons of their like could fly, materialise, and do obscene amounts of wandless magic, but they didn’t really see it as being significant. Instead, demons influenced people and set them against each other for “fun” and watched what happened, but the one thing demons did not do was mess with another demon’s things or intentionally hurt another demon. When Hermione had asked Severus why this was, all he could do was shrug and say “it just wasn’t done.”
Hermione had her hypothesis as to why, and at least what she thought was part of it, and it came down to just how rare it was for demons to find their Mate. It could take hundreds or thousands of years as humans told time. If that demon’s mate wasn’t even born or, as in Hermione’s case, Changed until some time in the future, killing off the one demon would deprive the other of something that was viewed as utterly sacred.
No demon harmed another demon’s mate. That apparently covered mates that hadn’t even been born/Changed yet.
Hermione sighed sleepily. She had been learning a lot in her short time as a demon, and it was exhausting— even for one who thrived on soaking up as much information as possible. Both she and her demon were barely a month old, and it was only Severus’ dutiful mentorship that was allowing her to as well adjusted as she was.
Part of her found it extremely ironic that she was “well-adjusted” because of Severus Snape. She’d spent a good six years being tormented by the man known as Professor Snape, but she at least now knew why he was so sour and broken. If being a demon wearing a human’s body wasn’t enough of a reason to keep everyone twenty feet away from you at all time, being Severus Snape was enough reason to keep people just as far.
At least that had changed, thanks to a certain twist of fate. In her case, at least. It was doubtful that anyone, short of those like Minerva that had known him since he was a student, would notice the more subtle peace that had fallen over Professor Snape.
Severus still had his job to do as well as role to play. Albus had him working for his Order from the grave and Tom Riddle was still using Severus as a spy for his side. Part of it was it put him in line for easy feeds, but another part of it was he had given Albus his word. The other part was Tom was technically “his contract” and he was playing the role of the contracted demon until it ceased to suit his purposes.
Both Severus and Hermione knew that the chances Harry would undertake his quest to “find all the Horcruxes” sometime during the summer were increasing as the threat of Voldemort drew closer. This meant their eventual, but temporary separation. Neither of them looked forward to it as they were just getting used to having each other close.
The lure of finding the Horcruxes was inspirational, however, as soul magic meant eventual sprogs, and both of them were keen of having those around as soon as demonly possibly.
Severus had an idea of where one of the Horcruxes was hiding, but he wasn’t sure. It was rumour. Some slimy character that had been under Dumbledore’s wing. The man, named Mundungus Fletcher, supposedly got his sticky hands on some things he shouldn’t have quite recently and was trying to pawn them off in Knockturn Alley. It was a long shot, but they couldn’t risk letting it fall into some random character’s hands from the Alley— not when their sprogs were at stake.
Severus groaned next to her in sleep, and his human arms slipped around her body and pulled her close as his demon form fell away. Ever since he and his demon had fully joined, Severus had also spent more time in a human state, but, much like her, it depending on the the situation. Still, when they were alone and relaxed, being in a “vulnerable” human state was not so horrible. Also, there was the matter the bed was much more happy to accommodate for two people without the extra appendages. Funny that.
Hermione contemplated a bath, but the lure of Severus’ warm body was like a moth to light. The stronger bergamot scent was even more alluring, and mixed with his natural leather smell, she wanted to roll all over him and stick her feet up in the air like a cat rolling in catnip. She wasn’t going to make fun of Professor McGonagall every time she smelled Professor Sprout’s catnip tea ever again.
Snaking her foot out to touch the floor, she slithered across the silk sheets, letting her body slide carefully out of Severus’ warm embrace so she could get to the bath. It almost killed her to leave his warmth. She wanted to crawl right back under his arm and start licking his chin for attention, but she really had to take a bath if they were going out in public. The last thing they needed was to inflict their concentrated daemonic version of amortentia on random passerbys and have random people humping each other on the streets. Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought of the London evening new broadcast. London public issued massive warning regarding public indecency.
As it was, she was slightly concerned what would happen on the run between Harry, Ron, and herself if they were deprived of bathing conditions. She could always groom herself clean, but that would not help her situation with Harry and Ron. Thinking about that, however, was moot at the moment, as they still hadn’t been able to truly “make up” after the little “I’m going to kill you, again!” incident.
Hermione painfully extricated herself from the side of the bed and headed towards the master bath. If just going to the bath was hard without her mate, how was she going to be away from him for months? It was going to kill her— maybe not literally, but she might wish she was. She was starting to think Severus was her own personal calming draught— great when he was around, and having withdrawal symptoms when he wasn’t.
As she ran the faucets and slipped into the water, she mixed and matched the scented oils on the edge until she came up with something that was disturbingly similar to Severus’ scent. She made a mental note of the ratios and oils, agreeing with her inner voice that if she had to join Harry’s Horcrux hunting adventure, she would bottle this scent and bring it along. Just for the calming effects. Sighing, she burbled into the foaming suds and closed her eyes.
She woke to a ripple in the water as Severus slipped into the tub with her with a drowsy but amused expression on his face.
“Sneaking off without me?”
Hermione avoided his gaze. Busted.
He slipped into the water and sat down beside her, weaving his arms around her and pulling her close to him, and Hermione had only so much willpower to resist. She snuggled up to with a soft cry and licked his chin in supplication. He covered her mouth with his as he allowed her to feed, and soothed her back with his hands as she finished and cuddled with him in the water.
She didn’t have to feed from him anymore, but it seemed right to. He was her mate, and he found great pride and pleasure in doing so now that the human part of his mind no longer freaked out over it. Strangely enough, she never had an issue with it. In fact, feeding from him, and occasionally feeding him, added to their foundation of love, trust and loyalty. At times, she would also feel the fertility respond to their couplings. As if her body was slowly preparing itself for the arrival of sprogs.
From the moment he had first given her the gift of his chi, it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world. It had amused Severus, especially after his personal freak out, that Hermione had been so accepting, but he commented that she had also accepted him as a mate. That alone proved to him that she was an exceptional woman and even more exceptional mate.
Hermione yawned sleepily, her daytime and nighttime schedule having been completely scrambled in the past few weeks. Her eyes drifted closed as her mate worked her hair into a lather as he massaged her scalp. She made soft, incoherent noises when he stopped rubbing.
Severus chuckled lowly, dipping her gently into the water to rinse her hair. She blinked up at him, meeting his gaze with no less love than she always gave him. It caused his heart to beat a little faster and his breath to catch. “I never thought I would see such a look from anyone, let alone to me.”
Hermione smiled up at him, her fingers reached out to touch his lips.
He took her fingers into his mouth, gently sucking them in, watching as Hermione’s eyes fluttered in pleasure, emitting a low moan of arousal. The sound healed something deep inside of Severus. The thought of having someone truly desire him had never been a blip on his radar. He had never thought; he had never even entertained the dream.
Hermione took her turn lathering Severus up and ensuring every inch on his body was clean, gnawing on a few places playfully with her teeth, insisting that her tongue would help as well. The act did not go unnoticed by her soapy mate, and there were a few incidents of non hygiene related calisthenics before perfect cleanliness was achieved. Channels were rubbed clean, ensuring that satisfaction was accomplished. Hermione made sure to run the washcloth gently over his loins and found her herself saying it was “to make sure all the juices from the night before were washed off” when he gently pinched her on the arse.
Finally, after their skin was sufficiently waterlogged, they crawled out of the tub and attacked each other with fluffy towels. Hermione’s youthful exuberance and playfulness peaked out as she experimented in finding ticklish spots on Severus.
Severus gave her a frustrated sigh as they attempted to dress for the day’s excursion, making multiple attempts to get his trousers properly buckled as they kept sliding down with the assistance of someone’s mischievous hands. He complained but guided her hands wherever he needed them to be, but there was only so much daylight. It wasn’t until Minerva knocked on the chamber doors that the both of them flew into action, dressed themselves, and left appropriate spacing between them when Severus opened the door for Minerva.

Knockturn Alley was perhaps one of the hardest place for a young demon to visit due to its horrendous stench. It wasn’t that it was covered in sewer slime or rot, but the many scents and combinations of human pheromones and bodily fluids which had the opposing effect on a demon as they would for a human.
Hermione wrinkled her nose and used Severus’ black robes to hide her nostrils. Her PTSD excuse only made it easier for her to cling to him like a Muggle suction cup, and for him to keep a careful eye on on her as though he was watching a student over a volatile potion cauldron. Minerva had agreed that Hermione could follow him on errands after the very mention of him being away from Hogwarts sent her into a wide-eyed panic.
The acting Headmistress was full of sympathy and reminded Severus to take care while out. She had not known where in London he was going, which was probably good, for had she known, she would probably have put him in a full body-bind hex and hung him from the rafters.
Some people tried to approach, reaching out to pet Hermione’s robes, and Severus glared at them with silent fury, causing many of them to back peddle and leave them alone. One man tried to pickpocket Severus, and Hermione had cast Ginny’s favourite bat-boogey hex upon him, smirking as the man went screaming down the alleyway with bats flying out of his nose and slamming him in the face.
“I won’t even ask,” Severus grunted as he watched the spectacle.
“Ginny Weasley special,” Hermione replied cheerfully.
“Hnn,” Severus said. “Young weasels are frightening.”
“And fertile,” Hermione said with a shrug.
“True,” Severus replied. “Well, it was true.”
Hermione frowned, gently running her hand over her belly, “I should be appalled, but.. I’m really excited that we’re one step closer to sprogs.”
Severus looked down at her thoughtfully. “Did you even consider having children before?”
Hermione shook her head. “No, not until you. I used to think about Ron a lot, but, he was so frustrating. It was never about children and more about him paying attention to me instead of… Quidditch.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Severus said sadly. “I once thought..”
Hermione leaned into him. “You don’t have to feel guilty about once thinking you’d be in a relationship with someone you grew up with. She must have been very special.”
Severus tilted his head. “I used to think she was the only light of my world, and then, one day, we were done. Perhaps we had been drifting apart for a while before then, but to me, it was as if all the wind under my sails was gone. It’s odd though, now that I have truly accepted the Change, I do not feel the pain as I once did. Now, all I have is this burning, driving, need to protect you, create a territory, defend it, fill your womb with my sperm to give you sprogs.”
Hermione grinned at him. “Perhaps, I wish to give you sprogs, Severus.”
“It does take two,” Severus grunted.
“How many sprogs do you think?” Hermione asked, tapping her finger to her chin. “One or two, perhaps?”
“At at time?” Severus asked, leaning down to stare at her, his lips tauntingly close.
She licked her lips and gently pulled his bottom lip between her teeth, causing him to pull her into the dark back alley that separated Diagon and Knockturn. Severus sniffed once, letting his familiar disdainful scowl spread down from his furrowed eyebrows and down his nose which may have been completely effective, had it not be the slipping of his tail in between her robes, teasing the soft flesh as it snaked up her skirt. She flushed, grasping onto his sleeve and looking down like a scolded student, which may have been his idea all along.
“Later, we shall continue.” He gently pressed his lips against hers, silently promising and felt her smile against his lips.
They continued their walk down Knockturn Alley with a hurried gait, and when Severus saw something caught his attention, he pressed Hermione into the alcove nearby.
“You remember what I taught you?” Severus whispered.
Hermione nodded. “Invisible and quiet.”
Severus nodded. He held up his arm over her to make it look like he was leaning against the wall to catch his breath, and Hermione disappeared from sight in a plume of black vapour.
Severus’ mouth twitched.
Good girl.
He turned and stormed towards a shady and somewhat flighty looking man who was sitting behind one of the hocking tables that were scattered about.
“Mundungus,” Severus sneered. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Eah!” Mundungus gasped. “Snape. I uh. Hello.” He was pulling something under his hand towards his chest and under the table.
Severus placed his hands on the table, smashing them down on Mundungus’ wrists.
“Our old mutual friend seemed to think you were worth giving a task, Mundungus,” Severus said with tilt of his head. “Why, I cannot say. Tell me, what is it you are trying so hard to get rid of now that he is no longer there to temper your fingers?”
“N..nuthing,” the man replied, fidgeting. “Just trinkets from here and there.”
Severus released one of Mundungus’ hands in order to pick up the candlestick on the table. “The Crest of the Ancient and Noble House of Black,” Severus hissed. “Interesting trinkets.”
Severus made a motion to wipe his mouth, concealing his tongue sliding across his fingers before he caught Mundungus by the wrist again. The man’s squirming motions only smeared more of the demon’s ichor over his unsuspecting skin. The man’s eyes grew wide and his breathing heavy.
“Show me what you’re hiding, Mundungus,” Severus said steely.
The man trembled and pulled out something from his lap. An amber inset locket covering the crest of Salazar Slytherin sparkled in the sunlight.
“Trinkets, Mundungus?” Severus sneered. He snatched up the locket with his fingers and palmed it, closing his hand around it as a surge of his magic gathered in his hand. He let the “amulet” half drop in the arm from his palm as his closed fingers curved ever so subtly around the original.
“Hem,hem!” a familiar and disgusting voice that made Severus want to let his human shape disappear and take his talons to someone’s ribcage. “I’ll take that!”
The overbearingly pink toad snatched the locket dangling from his hand much to Mundungus’ fear and horror. She pet the locket with her fingers and raked her eyes over it like she was having sex with it.
“I wouldn’t mess with things that aren’t yours, Dolores,” Snape drawled, seemingly uninterested. He pocketed his prize in his robes as he pulled his outer robe around his shoulders in his familiar movement.
“I’ll be the judge of what I have the right to inspect or not, Snape,” the toad sniffed haughtily. “Or do I have to let the right people know that a Death Eater is roaming free to teach children?”
“Think what you want of me, Dolores,” Snape rumbled. “I’m not the one who tortured students with blood quills. That, was all you.”
Dolores glared at him, and opened the locket between her fingers. She coughed as a cloud of black smoke oozed out of the inside of the locket and seemed to move itself into her nostrils and demand it be inhaled.
Dolores choked a few minutes and then clutched the locket to her breast, eyes wide. She put it on as though it were the most precious thing in her life. “I will be taking this. Neither of you deserve it as much as I do.”
“No, I suppose not,” Snape said, arching a brow. “How are you feeling?”
“It feels so good!” the toad blurted, eyes growing wide as she said it, but she let out a soft moan as the truth left her lips.
“There now, you see?” Snape drawled. “The truth is its own reward.”
“I’m going to go home and stare it for hours,” the woman said in a half daze, groaning as yet another truth escaped her mouth. “
“Tell me,” Severus asked absently, looking as though he could care less. “What does the Ministry know about me, anyway?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Umbridge giggled with a wild look in her eyes. “I keep making things up to get you in trouble, but they don’t believe me!” She groaned again, but the pleasure on her face just kept shining through.
“Well then,” Severus purred. “Don’t let me stop you.”
The pink toad clutched the locket to her breast and scurried away, petting the piece in her hand as she went.
You put a truth compulsion on a decoy? Hermione’s mental voice was utterly amused.
Hrm? Me? Why would I do such a thing?
To watch her fight the pleasure of spilling every secret she ever wanted to keep?
Hn. There is a certain amount of that. She does, however, know my affiliation with certain circles. I did leave that area of her brain safe from the truth compulsion.
Hermione seemed to accept it much as she did other things post-Change. Everything was taken with sort of detached air, unless it had to do with daemonic interests.
Come, he said to her mentally. Follow me out of this hole.
He felt the slip of her invisible arm in his and he walked away from Mundungus, letting the slippery man think that the pink toad had taken his little trinket away.

“I think it’s marvelous that you are doing an internship, Hermione,” Mrs Granger cooed at her. She handed her an iced vanilla latte from the machine on the counter. Say what you did about the Grangers, they had their love for coffee— so much so that Mr Granger had given his wife a “real” coffee machine. The smiling woman handed Severus his own iced latte as well and then sat down at the outside table in the garden.
The potion master stared at the drink with a sort of admiration before sipping at it gratefully.
“So you are her sponsoring professor, is that correct?” Mr Granger asked, sipping his espresso and getting coffee froth on his face.
Severus nodded. “ I am.”
“What sort of things are you making?”
Hermione pulled out a large, cobalt blue bottle. “I’ve been making a type of lotion. It’s really good for the hands and feet. I brought some for you.”
“Oh, I’ve never seen a lotion so dark,” Mrs Granger said. “Is it oily?”
“It soaks right in, mum,” Hermione reassured her. “No residue.”
“That sounds heavenly,” Mrs Granger said with approval. “Oh! It smells like honey and almonds. Our favourite, darling, take a whiff.” The female dentist stuffed it under her husband’s nose and his nostrils flared.
“Oh, well that is quite pleasant,” he agreed. “You’re making us both quite proud, Hermione,” he said honestly. “I am glad you are doing so well. With you saying that you probably weren’t going to make it home that much for the next year or more, your mum and I were thinking of making taking a trip and seeing the sites. Australia maybe. I want to see kangaroo.”
Mrs Granger laughed. “It’s all he’s been talking about since his friend at the office gave him a flyer for the long stay package. We’d take a cruise down there, stay for half a year, then cruise our way around the the world and back. See whales in British Columbia and the like.”
“That does sound wonderful!” Hermione agreed. “Are you serious? Are you going?”
“Well we were hoping to discuss it with you, dear,” her mother said. “We don’t want you to think we’ve left you alone if you should need us.”
“Mum,” Hermione scoffed. “Once in a lifetime! It would be wonderful. I’m sure Professor Snape will have plenty to keep me occupied while you are gone.”
Sprogs.
Severus!
Making of sprogs.
Psht!
Tail curling ecstasy.
Hermione groaned softly into her hands.
“You’re really okay with it, darling?” her father asked. “We’ve already arranged for all of your tuition and fees to be covered for Hogwarts and enough to a little spending stipend, but we don’t want you to think we’re pushing you off.”
“Mum, dad,” Hermione said with a smile. “Take some time for you. You’ve worried about me for seventeen years now. I’ll be okay. You can send me postcards from around the world!”
Mrs Granger smiled. “You are such a thoughtful child,” she gushed, pulling Hermione into a merciless hug.
“When would you be going?” Hermione asked with excitement.
“Earliest would be end of summer,” her father said. “It would give us enough time to set things in order and make sure the house will still be standing when we get back.”
Hermione grinned. “Go for it! Australia, dad! You’ve been telling me stories of kangaroos since I was two.”
Her father gave her a genuine smile that she returned with interest. “I know you mum and I have dreamed of setting up a practice down there, but with you in school and all, we didn’t have the heart to try and put you through a move. Now, we’re scared to move, like… we’ll be disappointing you as parents.”
Hermione clasped their hands together. “Mum, dad. Do this. If not for yourselves, do it for me. I want you to be happy. You’ve given me so much. Seventeen years to be exact. Send me post cards. Hug a penguin in Antarctica for me. Swim with dolphins. Snorkel with sea turtles and explore the Great Barrier Reef. Do this. Make that practice you’ve always dreamed about, and you can let me know where I can come visit you on holidays.”
Her parents had tears in their eyes, and they squeezed her hand warmly. “We have an early graduation gift for you, Hermione. Something for the future. So when things are settled, maybe we can see you on the holidays, aye?”
Hermione exchanged glances with Severus as her father handed her a small black lacquered box with sea animals on it. Hermione opened the latch and looked inside to see a set of keys and a deed to the house.
Her parents flushed with pride at their daughter. “Just give us a few months to pack before your kick us out?” they laughed. “Though technically the deed doesn’t kick in until your sevent—OOF!”
Hermione tackled her parents from across the table, sending them flying into the garden grass, which was thankfully very comfortable. “I love you so much,” she murmured into their hair.
“You make us so proud, Hermione,” Mrs Granger cooed. “You be sure to take care of my coffee machine.”
Hermione burst into tears. “Anytime you want coffee, mum. I swear.”
“I do hope you’ll stay for dinner tonight. I know it’s barely past noon, but since you’ll be away all summer, let’s go get your favorite take-out for dinner, and celebrate your upcoming birthday and our wedding anniversary. Your father and I will go upstairs and change and we’ll be back in a jiff.” Mrs. Granger patted her daughter’s hand, eager to spend more time with her. Hermione nodded, sensing that take-out wasn’t the reason her parents wanted to get out of the room.
The lotion that Hermione had prepared was actually a shea butter mixed with several drops of her ichor. Hermione wanted to gift her parents another child before sending them on their trip. The lotion, as a topical treatment, would spur on the idea of mating, or in her parent’s case, coupling. Hermione had yet to test the lotion fully, but her parents would understand in the name of science.
-o-o-o-o-o-
“They haven’t left their bedroom in three hours, Severus,” Hermione said as she read the copy of Aardvarks, Potions, and You. “Thank you for putting that silencing charm up for me.”
“For us, my mate,” he corrected. “Daemonic hearing is acute enough to hear hummingbirds getting it on in the tree outside. We really don’t need the extra help.”
Hermione snorted into the journal she was reading and coughed. “The entire underage Trace thing is annoying.” She was leaning against some pillows as she sprawled on the couch by the fireplace.
“It only applies to the magic cast from your wand, at least. You can cast demon magic all day long and no one would know the difference at the Ministry of Magic.”
“Is there a daemonic version of the silencing ch--MMMF!” Hermione was cut off by a pair of warm, intoxicating lips pressed against her mouth that triggered her need to feed like a newborn from her mate’s inviting mouth.
Severus pulled away with amusement in his black eyes. Hermione frowned, placed her hands in his hair, and pulled him down on top of her, journal falling from her hands and landing on the carpet. She growled seductively, her forming tail slithering between his legs and tugging on the ends of the ties that secured his trousers.
Severus, however, was onto her, and he had her tail pinned with with his thigh as she struggled against him. He dipped his hand into the open jar on the nearby coffee table and began to smooth the lotion into the base of her tail.
Hermione whimpered, her pupils dilating as her breaths came in pants. “Sss..ssss...sseverus,” she cried, her body trembling as she flailed against the couch in front of the fireplace.
Severus smiled serenely down into her face as his black tongue slithered out from between his lips and found its way into her welcoming mouth. His one arm sinking deep into the space between the cushions of the couch as the other sought other forms of entertainment on his mate’s quivering body.
Thankfully her parent’s bedroom wasn’t the only room warded with a significant silencing charm.
Merlin, she hoped the window blinds were closed. Unfortunately that thought flew out of her mind as Snape snaked his tongue into her mouth, pressing her deeper into the couch, relishing in the scent of leather that surrounded them. He felt his mate’s concern for the sunlight that streamed in from the large French windows on the side of the wall, and gently flicked his arm in the direction, allowing the curtains to fall from their secured spots and obscured the wandering eyes from seeing their process of christening the parlor or sitting room, or whatever it was this room was suppose to be.
He turned back to the task on hand, or rather his mate’s creamy tits that were in his hand. Hermione gasped and tilted her head back against the cushion pillows as her mate expertly rolled her nipples between his hands. Her tongue wrapped itself expertly around his, causing his mouth to slant further across her. While she missed the feel of his armoured skin and the definition of his muzzle, she did enjoy his human touches and kisses. She felt him chuckle and oblige to her request.
Hermione groaned into his forming muzzle, feeling her pheromones release and saturated the air. She felt her mate mix his in to join hers. The room was filled with the scent of grapefruit and sandalwood, hints of ink, parchment and bergamot intertwining around them. All that was forgotten as Severus shifted his hips against her, hands abandoning her breasts as they sank onto the mossy foliage. He wandlessly summoned for a blanket as he felt the small ridges of the seats push against his knees and focused his attention back on the short skirt she had worn that day. While it was Charmed to appear a modest length, his daemonic vision saw through the charms and nearly stopped Hermione from leaving their rooms that morning. The skirt was barely a hand length long and allowed the black lace boy shorts to peek through.
I figured you would like my color choice. They're also rather absorbent. Especially since you touched me with you tail this morning in Knockturn Alley.
You really do love my tail.
It does look very sexy. What if we put a bow on it?
You will not go near my tail with any form of fabric.
Are you sure? Perhaps, I wish to tie you up.
All coherent thought flew from her brain and she felt the ichor seep from his muzzle and slide across her skin. Her hands attacked the front of his shirt, pulling it free from his trousers, and ripped the fabric away from his chest.
Her top faced the same fate as it joined the discarded pile of unwanted clothes. Socks, skirt, trousers and shoes were next to join the cast offs.
You look like a feast, all laid out for me to dine in, my sweet.
I'm glad you find me quite edible. Though, this black lace that you've left on me, might be in the way.
Severus didn't answer her as he he began lapping his way across her inner thighs. Fang brushed across her covered clit, causing Hermione to buck her hips in response. She squeezed her inner thighs together, trapping her mate’s head in place as his breath ghosted across her mound.
His hands gently pinned her legs down and he sucked gently on her fabric covered core. Her heat permeated through the lace as he circled his tongue around her clit. Her hands reached down to grasp at his hair, pulling him up to taste herself across his tongue. He pulled away and shifted down again, securing her hands to the blanket with a silent sticking charm.
“Is that really necessary?”
Severus smirked at her, “Think you can tease me without retribution? I intend to practice and perfect the art of making sprogs with you.”
“Practice does...oooh, make perfect,” Hermione gasped out, barely registering the words that Severus had mumbled into her core, only able to feel the reverberations of his voice.
“I promised to give you sprogs, and I will deliver to you, the most perfect sprogs that we can create,” Severus mumbled, barely keeping his thoughts together as her essence dripped along the sides of her thighs and along his muzzle. Hermione freed her tail from his thigh and deftly dipped the end into the jar of lotion she had brought along. It fell from the coffee table as she swung her tail around Severus’ body to trace the lotion along his perineum and scrotum.
He growled into her skin, fangs gripping the lace underwear and tearing it from her body.
You owe me a new pair.
I’ll buy you more than a pair.
His tongue moved the scraps of fabric away from her body to expose her sopping centre to him. He ran a finger, still covered in lotion, beginning at her clit, tracing the outside of her nether lips, before dipping into her channel to massage the walls.
Hermione reacted to the lotion immediately, coming across his fingers as it seeped into her bloodstream. Severus’ Sticking charm fell from her hands and she pulled his body up to align with hers. Skin changed to inky onyx black as mouths met in an ardent kiss, ichor spilling down the length of her throat. Her tongue massaged his as she greedily drank in and gave ichor in return, talons gripping his shoulders as her legs shifted to wrap around his waist and under his tail.
The two demons tumbled from the couch, landing on the soft plush carpet, skin reflecting the gentle flickering light of the fireplace. With bodies still tightly wrapped together, Hermione shifted her hips to let his cock rest against her wet seam, coating the skin between them.
Her hips rocked back and forth, urging Severus to join her. The lotion that was applied on their skin was now fully absorbed, hitting both with heightened sensations of touch. Severus growled into the curve of her neck, reaching between her legs, to circle her clit as he eased his length into her. She arched into his chest, mewling to urge him to move faster, but Severus had plans to drag their session on for a bit longer.
Fueled by the ichor laced lotion, cock was heavy and hard, nestled within her velvet walls, he grabbed a pillow off the couch and slipped it under her arse.
“Elevation helps sperm reach the womb,” Hermione spouted the fact out before she even realized it.
“It does, but since we’re practicing the art of sprog creation, the pillows aids with angling the cock to reach closer to the cervix, allowing gravity to ensure the sperm reaches into the womb,” Severus responded, pulling himself out before slamming his hips into her again. Hermione groaned at the new sensation, bracing her feet on the carpet, and lifting her hips to allow Severus a deeper angle.
Severus watched as his cock slide in and out of Hermione’s channel, glistening with her wetness. He ran his fingers across her lips, letting the last bit of lotion linger on them, groaning as Hermione’s tongue darted out to caress them. At that moment of distraction, Hermione reached up and grabbed the end of his tail, bringing it to her mouth. With each movement of the hips , an inch of his tail disappeared into her mouth. Her tongue wrapped around it, gently tugging and coating it with ichor. She massaged the soft velvet underside.
Severus could barely contain himself. The sensation of her walls fluttering around him, sucking his cock further into her quim, the way her tongue swirled his tail, the cheeky minx sending him mental images of what she’d rather have in her mouth sent him over the edge, wings exploding from his back and jets of come coated her inner walls, her orgasm following his shortly after.
They panted together, bathing in the afterglow of their orgasm, too tired to untangle their limbs from one another. His wings enclosed around them, keeping the warmth and pheromones surrounding them as they drifted off in a blissful rest by the warm fireplace.

Hermione opened one eye as she watched the shadows play about the hearth. One large wing was curled around her, half cocooning her from leaving, not that she was about to try. The world’s comfiest couch had been christened with their lovemaking, and she was very glad that her parents were too occupied with their own forms of horizontal entertainment to notice there were two very happy demons curled up on their favourite davenport.
She was pretty sure that if her parents knew she was even thinking about boys let alone indulging in carnal activities on their couch, that they would be horrified. Hermione had never shown any interest in such things before, so finding out that she had not only lost her virginity and was quite happy with being shagged senseless by Severus was probably not something she wanted them to find out. That wasn’t even touching on the “Mom, dad, I’m a demon, and, uh, so is he” conversation that was never happening ever. Still, she was quite naked on her parent’s glorious couch, and the afterglow was more than satisfactory.
“Mrrrrow!” a familiar meow commented as Crookshanks leapt up into her lap and between Severus’ wings. He rubbed up against her damp body, rubbed his whiskers against her chin, and kneaded her arm before settling into the crook of it with loud purr.
“ Crooks?” Hermione boggled. “How did you…?”
There was also the matter that she didn’t exactly look human at the moment and neither did her mate.
Crooks, unphased and unpulsed, purred loudly, smelling of tuna. Somehow the half-Kneazle had commandeered sustenance as well. She was starting to think that Kneazles, or at least this particular half-Kneazle, was more than just a little skilled at finding his way to… anywhere he wanted to be.
“Severus?” she asked outloud.
“Hrm?” he answered, snuffling her hair.
“Can Kneazles, uh, teleport?”
Severus unfolded his wing out so it touched the ceiling, stretching it out in a fan and then folded it. “I can’t say that I’ve had much experience with Kneazles or their offspring.”
“Crooks was back at the Tower. I haven’t seen him since, erm, my Change.”
Severus inhaled and exhaled loudly, moving against her as one of his talons rubbed the contented half-Kneazle with his dark obsidian claws. Crooks purred louder and bumped his head against his wicked claw with not even a protest of how odd it may have seemed.
“Well, he obviously doesn’t care that we are demons,” Severus snorted.
“Crooks has always been,” Hermione paused, “practical?”
“Did you know that cats can enter and exit summoning circles like they aren’t even there?” Severus asked. “Most wards and defenses too. I don’t think it works for Animagi, but cats show no heed for magical circles of any kind.”
Hermione yawned with a squeak. “I guess if Crooks has other innate abilities, he’s not sharing them with us. He’s obviously being fed and taking care of himself.”
“Really is there anything else a Kneazle desires?” Severus asked.
Crooks purred loudly.
“Nothing he’s fessing up to,” Hermione admitted. “We should get dressed. “We can bring take-out back to my parents since they are—”
“Enjoying themselves famously?” Severus asked.
“Yeah that,” Hermione chuckled.
Crookshanks decided that cutting off the circulation in Hermione’s arm was not enough and transferred himself to Severus’ unfolded wing, pinning the demon down with a strange force of gravity that seemed inherent to felines and apparently super-effective against human or demon protest. Hermione used that moment to crawl out from Severus’ embrace, throwing on his shirt as she stumbled towards the kitchen for some of her mother’s glorious coffee, trying very hard to ignore her mate’s utterances of protest of having his mate leave him pinned under a seven pound Kneazle.
Life was exceedingly tough like that.
Hermione found a strange cathartic pleasure in making coffee with her mom’s coffee machine, and admitted, at least to herself, that Muggles had their own kind of magic. It wasn’t the kind of magic that used wands or inborn energy manipulation, but it was, none the less, something amazing. Her father had used to show her scrapings of bacteria under the microscope and it had opened a brand new world for her. Her letter to Hogwarts at the age of eleven had done much the same.
As if to prove that evolution continued to take her off guard, at the cusp of seventeen, she was Turned into a demon, and yet another strange new world was at her fingertips. She wasn’t sure where the next few decades were going to bring her, but she was pretty sure it was going to be epic.
Sprogs. Hermione snorted as she finished her iced coffee. There was that. She fished more ice out of the freezer section of the refrigerator and made Severus a glass as well. She was feeling quite content to go crawling back to her mate and curl up to him again, and that was not going to get them out the door to get take out. It was that her parents were going to crawl out of their bedroom sometime soon. Their metabolism was definitely not as fast as a demon’s, and they probably had more than half a container of lotion left, well, at least she hoped they did.
Explaining to her parents why a demon was sprawled on their couch with their daughter in their kitchen drinking iced coffee was not a conversation she was looking forward to.
Talons curved around the glass of iced coffee and liberated it from her hands. Severus had somehow extricated himself from the weight of kitty gravity. “Mmm,” he commented, his long tongue slid out from between his teeth to lap at the iced coffee. The sight of it pressing against the sides of the clear glass tumbler made her breathe a little heavy. What was wrong with her anymore? She had been at a co-ed school for almost six years without getting weak in the knees over anyone, and now all her mate had to do was stick his wonderfully, glorious, flexible, and talented— Merlin’s toenails!
Severus’ rumble of amusement rippled through her, and she sighed. He knew exactly what his body did to her, and he adored every moment of it.
“When you’re in your human body, my shirt does look better on you than on me.” He whispered against her ear, letting the words ghost against the shell, goose flesh popping up on her arms.
Her arms braced herself against the granite countertop as Severus’ large body covered her from behind. His tongue abandoned her ear, licking at the nape of her neck as talons worked their way up the outer sides of her legs.
“It seems you’ve forgotten your underwear my darling,” Severus mildly commented as his fingers brushed over her sensitive core as he continued to trace his way up her back. It had been barely an hour since their last joining, but heat folded her sex and she clenched her thighs together. She needed to cool down before her body actually ignited in flames.
She tried to safely drink from the glass of ice coffee when a certain sexy black tongue slithered into her coffee tumbler and began to lap into her tasty beverage as well. Then, in what could have only been a planned and calculated vertical strategy, it slid into her mouth sharing with her a potent mixture of coffee, vanilla, and daemonic ichor that made her practically drop her glass. Severus seemed to be on top of it, rescuing the tumbler from a shattering death. Severus spun her around in his arms and pulled her up onto the counter to continue ravishing her mouth.
She whimpered into his mouth as her tongue slid against his, savoring the taste of so many wonderful things wrapped into one package of liquid sex. His hands were cupping her face as he leaned her down against the countertop island with a rumbling growl of renewed desire. There was a part of her, at least a tiny part, that was listing a rather growing list of ironies that she would be so wonderfully willing to engage in such activities with Severus Snape— the man who made her school life akin to childhood hell, at least when it came to class.
Admittedly, she hadn’t really known him, and he had no reason to get to know her, nor could they have without the daemonic communication circle. The demon would have had no empathy to her plight and had not, and his balance between his two halves were far from in tune at the time.
The only affection demons showed youth were to their sprogs, or sprogs of their allies but demons either way. Human children were just immature food, or, at the very best, immature soon-to-be-allies. When it came to her mate, at least, she might as well have been wearing the largest pair of rose coloured shades, because she could find no wrong in him. Now that their bond was cemented, she had no doubt of exactly where her loyalties lay. She didn’t question his either. Gone were the days when she felt she had to set her professor’s robes on fire to save Harry. After what had happened most recently, she was wondering if she set the wrong wizard on fire.
Her train of thought took an abrupt derail as someone’s glorious tongue slipped away from her mouth and moved down her throat and towards her breasts. The shirt was hastily pushed aside as she relaxed onto the cool countertop. How would she even begin to fathom how someone else was doing such torturously heavenly things to her, she’d never know.
Severus growled against her ear. I was your first. Your best, and the only one whose touch you’ll crave, he repeated the promise he had made her on the night of their first joining. Chaos and war shall be our marriage bed. Blood and tears shall christen our sprogs. We are one. Eternal. My queen.
Hermione vaguely protested that she was not a queen just before her mate’s tail wrapped against hers and undulated and rubbed her in all the right places. The argument she had tried to formulate went dancing with the cat and the fiddle under the moon.
She clung to him as he worshiped her. “My Lord,” she breathed. “My mate.” She groaned as her body spasmed under his touch. “Eternal,” she said with a ragged breath as she let herself go.
Severus’ demon body towered over his human height, meaning when he knelt on the kitchen floor, his muzzle was perfectly lined up for tasting her nether lips. Pretty pink lips, slightly swollen from their previous coupling, parted as his breath ghosted over.
The chilled glass tumbler, still grasped in his talons, would be a perfect way to help his mate cool down as he pressed the cool glass along her seam. Her back arched off the table as the feeling of the chilled glass registered in her nervous system. Her lips parted as quick pants of air escaped her.
His tongue parted the folds easily and she yelped when an ice cube was eased up her passage, melting almost instantly from the heat she produced. One by one the ice cubes disappeared from the cup, melted using her heat and lapped up by Severus’ skillful tongue.
When her folds were sufficiently moist from ice water and ichor, Severus stood up and pulled her closed, arse barely seated on the island top. Her legs automatically wrapped around his body and his tail supported her back. Wings wrapped around her, cocooning both in a protective manner. The coffee was drained from the mug, lips met and small sips of ichor laced vanilla ice coffee passed between the two. Before the last mouthful could pass between them, Severus bent face first over the island and dripped the ice coffee down the curve of her spine. The scent of dark roasted coffee with hints of vanilla filled the kitchen as she gasped when Severus pulled her onto his cock. As he rocked in and out of her, his tongue flickered out, lapping at the coffee that slid across her skin. Bit by bit, the coffee disappeared and Hermione’s skin tingled from the sensation. Her orgasm rippled through her and she drove her hips back against Severus. He lowered her to the kitchen floor, continuing to drive in and out of her, burying his nose in her hair, breathing in the unique scent of her. Ink, parchment and the gradually increasing aroma of grapefruit intermingled with his scent of bergamot, leather and sandalwood. The combined scent was like the call of his Siren, his Hermione, his Mate. His Eternity.
My mate.
Ours.
Forever. And he roared his completion as he collapsed over her, bringing her over the edge again.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Since her parents were out of commission of sorts, it was up to Hermione and Severus to fetch the food. Hermione couldn’t remember which things her parents liked more, so they ended up with bags of take-away from various places in London.
They picked a selection of mouth-watering bratwurst, sauerkraut, and potatoes from one place, pork and bean stew and cheese bread from a Brazilian café, BBQ from other place, katsu curry and miso soup from a Japanese place, and a wondrous Vietnamese hot pot from a local place hidden between a bookstore and a shoe repair shop. By the time they were done fetching the miscellaneous take-away, they looked like they were planning to feed an open house, but the food smelled absolutely enticing, so neither of them were complaining.
The pair had all of the food set out on the dining room table, and Severus has put stasis charms on all the food so none of it grew cold while they waited for her parents to crawl out from the pheromone induced stupor that had found themselves in.
They had cleaned all evidence of their earlier activities christening the couch, kitchen island and eventually the kitchen floor with their fervor, Hermione with manual labour and Severus with his wand. Hermione had Severus vanish her destroyed undergarments as she raided her room for replacements. Severus had mentioned he wouldn’t mind the commando situation, but when Hermione pointed out that if her skirt blew up in public, everyone would see her bare, Severus picked her up and deposited her in front of her bedroom dresser, commanding that she pick out decent underwear.
Hermione made a big deal about picking out various pieces of her underwear until her teasing almost almost had them mating yet again on top of her poor twin bed. Chastened by the idea that her parents were so close to where they were, she grabbed something from her normally modest selection and put it on.
They returned to the dining room and were still not joined by her parents, and Hermione started fidgeting, wondering if she had accidently killed her parents with too much activity lasting for the last few hours, but her parents creeped out as the smell of the food lured them out. Hermione breathed out a sigh of relief. Dentist Family Dies In Bed — All Signs Point to Overexertion!
“So sorry about that, honey,” her mother said in an embarrassed tone. “I’m not sure what happened. Your father and I got… distracted.”
Making up for sixteen some years of being very careful never to do anything inappropriate in front of their growing daughter, Hermione chuckled to herself.
Hermione’s nostrils flared slightly, catching the heavy scent of sex. She smiled with her best halo. “It’s okay, mum. I took Professor Snape to see the city. We weren’t sure what you wanted, and when I called you didn’t answer, so we thought have been called into the clinic. We kinda picked a little of everything and brought it back. I hope it isn’t too much.”
“Lord have mercy,” her father whistled. “We will not have to go to the grocery for the week.
“It looks wonderful, darling,” her mother gushed.
Dinner was a casual affair. Large plates filled with everything in buffet style. They carried all of the food back to the couch and chairs, and Hermione did her best not to blush like a radish when her mom asked her if she’d plugged in a new air freshener due to the smell of bergamot and grapefruit. They gathered around the television and her father spoke to Severus like he’d talk to a fellow from work, commenting on politics and human stupidity.
Severus was exceptional at pointing out human stupidity, so he and her father got along famously.
By the end of the night, her mother was convinced that Severus was an exceptional chemist of the highest order, and her father was convinced he was “an exceptional chap with a good head of common sense even if he does carry a wand and dress like a priest.”
Hermione found great irony in the dressing like a priest part.
It wasn’t until quite late when the news came on that all conversation came to a halt.
“Mental Teen Attacks Priest and Parishioner in Market, Claims Priest is a Demon!” proclaimed the news ticker.
Repeat showings of a messy haired boy being put in the back of a police car played over and over. The priest was on camera stating that “the Lord works in mysterious ways, but never once did the Lord have anyone accuse him of being a demon.”
The parishioner was shown with a rattled expression and wide eyes, telling the cameras that “they boy just came out of no where, screaming, and telling them that he knew what Father Daniel was!” The woman was young, perhaps in her twenties, and seemed a bit older than her physical age.
To make matters even worse, the cameras were all in the Dursley’s faces, asking them questions on why their son was attacking priests.
“He’s not my son!” Vernon yelled, getting red in the face. “He’s my stupid nephew from an even stupider side of the family. We took him in out of the kindness of our hearts and this is how he repays us!”
“Hermione, dear,” her father said. “Wasn’t that your friend from school? That Harry boy?”
Hermione shook her head. “It looked like him dad, but the Harry I know doesn’t normally go around assaulting priests!”
No, her demon rumbled. He sacrifices you to demons and gives up his girlfriend’s virginity for power.
Hermione rubbed the space between her eyes.
“Poor dear looked at his wits end,” Mrs Granger said with a shake of her head.
“Well, Severus, I’ll show you to your guest room,” Mr Granger said. “The Mrs and I have to be up early to see patients, but that’s no reason for you two to have to wake up at dawn with us. So sorry we won’t be there in the morning to see you two off.”
“It was a pleasure,” Severus said, nodding his head. “Thank you for your… hospitality.”
“Psh, it’s nothing,” Mrs Granger said. “I’m glad you could take time out of your busy work to visit us and tell us how your internship is going.”
“I hope to see you at least once more before we leave, Hermione, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Mrs Granger requested.
“Of course, mum,” Hermione said warmly. I’ll be sure to visit again before the end of summer and definitely before you leave for your exciting new adventure.”
“We’ll be sure to send you a packet with all our new information before we go,” Mr Granger said. “Just in case you need something, okay?”
Hermione smiled. She took them both into her arms and hugged them tight. “I love you mum, dad.”
The two elder Grangers had emotion in their eyes as they hugged their daughter tight. Mr Granger gestured for Severus to follow him to the guest room, and Mrs Granger herded her daughter to bed like a surly young child who didn’t want to take a nap.

Hermione smiled as she caught her mother hovering over her like a helicopter mom. It wasn’t something her mother was prone to doing. She had always been one to encourage Hermione to make up her own mind, her own mistakes, and do things her own way. Everything else, she’d said, would come from trial and error, practice, and sometimes stupid luck.
“You’re so grown up, Hermione,” her mother said after a while. “It seems so much more real now.”
Hermione smiled. “Sometimes I don’t feel very grown up, mum.”
“Well, you have a good head on your shoulders, my dear,” her mom replied softly. “Truly, you have grown into a fine young woman. I’m just sorry we won’t be around to see you graduate and we’ll miss your birthday in September.”
Hermione laughed. “It’s okay, mum. Once in a lifetime, right? Australia! How fantastic is that?”
“I have nightmares that I’ll go into work and have a crocodile in my dentist chair,” her mother confessed.
Hermione laughed. “I’ll miss you, but I’ll be fine, mum. Once you get established there, you can write me all about it.”
Her mother started to tear up, and she held her in a hug. “I just get this feeling that these are the last times I’ll get to see you. I don’t want to forget you. I don’t want you to forget us.”
Hermione held her mother night. “I will never forget you, mum.”
Her mother sniffed slight. “So, your Professor. He’s tall, dark haired, and mysterious.”
Hermione coughed. “People at school think he’s the bane of their lives.”
“He has this serious expression that makes you think he’s evaluating your soul for the afterlife,” her mother jested.
“Mum, you’re horrible!” Hermione nudged her mom on the shoulder with hers.
“Seeing anyone? Find a nice boy?” her mom asked.
Hermione huffed. “Boys are far too much trouble, mom. I swear they’re out to kill me.”
Mrs Granger laughed. “That’s the way it goes for a while, darling. You go years and years looking for nothing of the sort, and then something amazing happens. Just don’t…” she trailed off.
Hermione looked up.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Hermione,” her mom said. “And don’t think that just because someone is older than you that you can’t find them attractive. You always were a girl many years above your age. Just remember that, okay?”
Hermione nodded, the sparkle of tears glittered around her eyes. “I will mom.”
Her mother held her hand and squeezed it. “May that one,” she said, flicking her head towards the guest room. “Never know. Give it a couple years when you’ve graduated. He has a level head and hates politics and stupidity, just like your father. You’d know exactly how to deal with that.”
“Mother!” Hermione said, flushing.
Her mom shrugged, a flash of a smile in her eyes and face. “I’m glad you came, Hermione. I’m so proud of you.”
Hermione hugged her mother tight. “I love you, mum,” she whispered.
Her mom rubbed her back and patted it. “I’ve loved you since the day you kicked your father’s hand from inside the womb, Hermione. Being surrounded in Kangaroos will not change that. Now, get some sleep. Hopefully your father and I will get some too. Especially after the afternoon we’ve had.”
Hermione flushed. “Mother!”
Mrs Granger laughed, squeezing Hermione on the shoulder. “It is life, daughter. One day, you’ll understand it too.”
With that, her mother turned on her heels and swept the room, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.
I like her, her demon purred.
I love her, Hermione confessed. I can still feel it. For her. For them.
I can too, the demon said, slightly amazed.
She just told me not to discount Severus because he’s older than me.
Wise woman.
She always had been, Hermione said with a sad smile. So much like Minerva.
Protect them.
Hermione nodded. I will protect them both. Somehow.
We will.
Hermione licked her teeth with a blackening tongue as the pitch black oil filled her eyes. Yes. We will.

When the quiet of the house settled into a lull where only the crickets and frogs serenaded through the open windows, Severus heard the soft creek of the bedroom door. Soft footsteps neared the bed, and he lifted his arm automatically.
Hermione snuggled into his side, pressing her lips to his chin, and he curled his neck to press his mouth to hers, offering her both comfort and food. She snuggled into him after a while, burrowing into his side. Her breaths were already slowing as she fell into sleep without a word being said.
Severus unfolded his wings, curled them around her, and closed his eyes. Soon he, too, was fast asleep.
Soon after, when all of the two legged members of the house were completely unconscious, Crookshanks headbutted open the door to the guest room, leapt onto the bed, wedged himself under a gap in Severus’ wings, and curled up between them, purring contentedly.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Severus woke to the slight dip in the bed as Crookshanks pounced off the bed in the wee hours of the morning. His eyes followed as the half-Kneazle paused at the door, as if deciding which way to trek for breakfast. His eyes closed again as he tightened his grip around his mate.
Her back was permanently inked with the onyx skin of where her wings sat, gentle strokes like the leaves of a bamboo shoot stretching the curve of her spine. He placed gentle kisses along it, relishing in her invitingly soft skin and the gentle scent of Hermione. He rested his cheek in her hair as he hugged her close, relishing in the fact that some God above had smiled upon him, and granted him his eternal salvation.
He had found salvation by becoming a demon. He had found the only one that would ever matter… because of Potter. Had Lily have never gone into the arms of James Potter, Harry Potter would have never been born. Had Harry Potter not been born, he would never have lived to bring Severus his mate. Suddenly the old, well-practiced hatred he had held for all things Potter seemed far less important, and the wounded part of Severus that had spend decades lamenting his failure with Lily was replaced with a deeper sense of fate. Had he held his tongue on that fateful day, given up his friendships with Mulciber and Avery as well as so many other Slytherin, he may have ended up with Lily. Had he done so, he would never have been sacrificed for the Dark Lord’s schemes. and he would most likely be where James Potter was now, under twelve feet of earth and haunting the afterlife.
Who would the Dark Lord have sacrificed instead of him? Lucius? Avery? Mulciber? Narcissa? Bellatrix? Would his Sire have killed them for the sacrifice made, or would they have been offered the Change? What would the world look like now had Severus not have been there at exactly the right and wrong time?
Hermione would most likely be dead— killed by supremacists due to her blood heritage long before she reached an age to weave spells to counter Death Eaters. That was, if she was lucky enough. In a world of Death Eaters and Pureblood supremacy, Hermione may have suffered a fate far, far worse: wishing for death.
Drops of water fell into the bucket of Fate. Every action made, in error or rightness, had led Severus and Hermione to this very moment. He, with his heart swelling with pride and love for his mate, had found the true meaning of always and the rapture of having a mate who felt the same.
Hermione shifted gently in her sleep, pushing herself against him. The gentle rub of her arse against his legs caused his thoughts to wander to things much lower in his body. His fingers splayed across her abdomen, filling his mind with the image of several sprogs and Hermione chasing after them, swelling belly filled with their next child. Her core rocked against him, and he groaned, feeling the increasing slick heat grow between her legs. He moved a hand further down her belly, tracing her belly button gently, and then trailing a path further down.
Her mound was hairless and smooth, giving him plenty of access to her clit. He gave it a gentle stroke, hearing his mate gently moan in her sleep, and slipped his fingers closer to her wet channel.
He gently lifted her leg, letting it rest on his, shifting his own body to allow for for manhood to fit snugly along her seam. His hips rocked forward, coating his length with her essence. Hermione shifted in her sleep, resting her head further back against the crook of his neck and he placed soft kisses along the side of her face as he slipped into her warmth.
Severus had lived many years alone, both in mind, body, and spirit. He would have thought that this would have given him a better buffer to things such as the very thought of his mate leaving him in the early morning to sneak back into her designated bedroom to sleep. In truth, however, he was lonesome for her the moment her warmth was no longer pressed against him. Both he and his joined demon were slightly discombobulated by the feeling of her being close but not with him, and while he knew that soon enough she would be off galavanting with Potter on his quest for the Horcruxes, the unease did not go away with logic.
Despite the fact that when he was in human mode the demon chose to speak with him with simple emotional statements, the demon was not primitive or slow. The demon was, in fact, very intelligent, so much so that he fooled an entire school of people that was Severus Snape during the time when he and Severus were not one in mind and spirit. They tended to shift back in forth when it came to dominance of opinion, but the demon seemed more at ease to let Severus guide human interactions now that they were stable.
Being able to chat with Mr and Mrs Granger had been one of those occasions, and Severus found a certain irony that he, of all people, was the one being relied on to broker social territory. His track record with social circles had not exactly been… stellar.
Keeping his cool as he had watched Potter getting arrested for assaulting a priest and calling him a demon, well, that had been the highlight of his evening. People who summoned demons for any reason tended to not be the brightest hippogriff in the herd. It was fairly common knowledge amongst his kind. Watching just how unhinged the boy had become in only a matter of a month, however, was not boding well for the boy’s sanity. It was a pity, really, as demons did prefer to play with their food for longer than a few months before savouring their demise. Demons were very, very patient when they had to be.
He continued the gentle rocking of his hips, feeling the velvet walls continue to secrete the essence lubricating his mate’s core, letting it thoroughly coat his erection. As he felt her slowly surface from her dreams, he pulled out completely, shifting himself so that he hovered over her body, letting the blankets cover them entirely from the world.
Inside their blanket fort, Hermione woke from an sensual dream that surrounded her senses. She had dreamt of sprogs weaving and darting between her legs in her childhood home. The nursery was being set up again as she gently patted her round belly. Severus did tell her practice made perfect and she was a perfectionist, meaning there was never enough practice.
She gasped as she completely reached the conscious world, feeling fingers beckon inside her channel, parting her legs instinctively wider to accommodate Severus as he settled his body between them. Her hands reached down to grab purchase on his shoulders as he planted gentle kisses between her legs, dragging his tongue along her quivering flesh to taste her. His tongue lapped at the ambrosia-like wetness that continued to form.
She tugged on his arms, letting him know she was fully awake. He slowly crept up her body, planting kisses on her sternum above her heart, on her breasts and finally her lips.
She gently kissed him, hoping to convey the waves of emotions she had gone through within her dreams. The anticipation, the love, the joy of sprogs and what she hoped to experience with him. Severus felt the mental images float across his mindscape, his demon purring with him, knowing their mate was wishing for the same.
Hermione tilted her head into the pillows, gently gasping into Severus’ mouth as he slid between her legs and joined with her. She shuddered against him at the sensation of being filled, her hips gently rocking back and forth. It was different from their frantic and ichor drenched couplings. Their love flowed between them with its purity of devotion, building on the bond that had cemented, letting their minds touch each other as their orgasm built in unison.
A gentle flick. A playful nip. A moan responding to a groan. There was the subtle tightening of her thighs around his waist and the bruising grip of hands at her hips as her head raised and nestled itself along the crook of his neck. She whispered her devotion, her love and her promises of eternity. He replied by wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her chest, whispering answers to each and every one of her statements against her breast bone as he allowed them to sink into her heart.
A gentle mew, a quiet hiss, the increasing pace of their hips, followed by the sealing of lips to each other joined together in a unique symphony as their orgasm rolled through at the same time. She gave quiet giggle as she commented how the feel of his genetic donations trickling between her legs made her wish they could practice more. He gave a low growl as he hugged her against his skin, pulling her close so they could slip off to Sandman’s world once again.
Gentle and deft paws pushed at the door, and Crookshanks let himself back into the room. While his mistress had changed forms, he knew he could trust her and her decisions, and he would forever protect her and the one she called her mate. He circled a spot near the foot of the bed, making a note to wake her in the morning.

While Hermione continued to slumber on, Severus gently roused from his. Crookshanks lifted his face from his paws and stared at him, tail swaying in the air. As Crooks jumped off the bed, he took the blankets with him, sending the quilt to the floor. Hermione shivered in her sleep but did not wake.
Severus stared at Crookshanks. Crookshanks stared back for a brief moment before padding over to the discarded shirt Hermione had dropped on the ground. He kneaded it with his paws, before bringing it over to Severus.
Severus furrowed his brows, reaching for the shirt before pulling it over Hermione’s head. He looked at the clock and then out the window, noting the gentle streaks of pink beginning to touch the edge of the night sky. Realizing that Crookshanks wanted him to return Hermione to her room, he lifted her from his bed, padding his way out and down the hall, following Crookshanks.
He gently placed her in bed, brushing the unruly curls away from her face. Crookshanks pushed his face into Severus’, eyes staring straight into his, whiskers twitching, before the half-Kneazle gave a gentle lick to the side of his jaw, and circled around the bed to what would appear to be his usual resting spot. Severus quickly pulled the covers over their bodies, giving Hermione a gentle kiss on the brow before retreating to his room.
His sheets, pillows and blankets smelled like his bedchambers in Hogwarts. The slight scent of sex was masked by the bergamot, leather, parchment, ink and grapefruit. He waved his wand quickly over the sheets, cleansing it of their combined fluids that had escaped Hermione. He settled quickly back into his cooling sheets, letting the scent of him and his mate surround him as he drifted back to his thoughts.
Hermione had seemed more worried about her parents connecting Potter to her than truly being worried for the boy, but that was to be expected after her Change. True emotional attachments to mortals were rare, limited only to exceptional chosen or those blanketed under the demon’s concept of “mine.” Minerva had made the list of “mine,” and Hermione’s parents had made the list of “exceptional chosen.” Whatever they had done as parents had imprinted upon the young demon and stayed with her through the change. That was, no doubt about it, exceptional.
And, because it was important to his mate, it was important to him. He didn’t need an emotional attachment to them to value their importance to her. It was just demon nature.
Even stranger still, perhaps, he had seen his Sire flash on the screen where Potter had attacked the priest and called him a demon. The greater irony, however, was that the priest was not the demon. His sire has been the female “parishioner.” It was deliciously ironic. In the modern age, it seemed priests were the ones accused of more sins than the common folks, and demon “culture,” if such a thing truly existed, found that even more amusing.
Religious figureheads had always been the ones most likely to root out demons in the populous, but they were also the ones who found witches in the peasants and burned them. It was people like that which drove magical people to create places such as Hogwarts. It was those same religious fanatics that drove Wizarding society into hiding.
There were also, however, so many kinds of demons. Demons such as Severus and Hermione or his Sire before him were, ironically, the demon equivalent of Pureblood elite. They were not limited by religious stigma, nor were they trapped, banished, or killed like those that went around trying to possess people or haunt people’s houses.
The biggest problem with being a demon such as they, was the contractual summon. They could be summoned, as long as idiot with candles, blood, the right chants, and a varying amount of stupidity to even try did “all the right things,” those such as Severus were bound to answer if they were in range. If said idiots had a sacrifice, then they could broker a year’s time of service out of a demon with no repercussions. The demon could not just wait three hundred and sixty-five days and then tear the person to pieces. Provided they did not reneg a contract or deny the demon’s price three times, the demon simply went on their way after the contract was done.
Severus sighed and closed his eyes. He would have to take Hermione to meet his Sire. It was the polite thing to do.

When Severus and Hermione had left the Granger house, Hermione had looked for Crookshanks only to find that her familiar had disappeared as mysteriously as he had arrived. She shrugged at Severus after spending about a half hour checking all his favourite haunts in and out of the house, even taking time to open an alluring can of tuna for his pleasure, but Crooks had left the way of a phantom and left no traces of his being there.
The trip deeper into London had excited Hermione. It was the first time she was able to explore a larger city with all of her new senses and perspective. Her lithe tail was entwined with her mate’s under the cover of his robes, holding tight to him while her hands could not, seeking both his comfort and reassurance as she scanned the crowds with bristling excitement. It had suddenly become so much more clear as to why her Potion Master preferred the attire he did. There was far lower chance of someone catching a glimpse of his more inhuman characteristics. By the time they had made it to the park to give her senses a bit of time to settle down, she had already fed thrice on several ideal, overly emotional passersby. Her energy stores were filled to the brim, and Hermione was almost giddy from the excess feedings. She whispered into his ear that she had enough excess to feed at least ten growing sprogs for a week, and the confession made Severus far happier than he originally thought it would.
“I think I’m going to start wearing robes like yours,” Hermione said thoughtfully.
“You wish to be called Hogwart’s second native dungeon bat?” Severus asked with amusement.
“I’m convinced of their… practicality,” she confessed, as her tail entwining a bit more firmly around his like a baby elephant wrapping its trunk around its mother’s tail.
Severus growled lowly, restraining himself from pulling her closer. She would be the death of him, and he would undoubtedly enjoy every moment of it. It was an odd mental image, superimposing Hermione in her human form wearing just his robes, but he found it strangely enticing, much like her earlier wearing of his shirt.
By the time they walked their way to the area surrounding the King’s Cross Station, they had stopped to allow Hermione to play in the fountains like a child half her age, indulged in a variety of street food, cast knowing glances at each other while partaking on a shared coffee at Notes Coffee, nibbled on baked goods at the Caravan, and simply enjoyed the blooming flowers and gardens along the greens.
It was around the time that Hermione and Severus had finished polishing off an exquisite pastry between them that Severus suddenly moved himself in front of Hermione, directly blocking of her from sight. Hermione immediately stilled her body, sensing the protectiveness in his demeanor and trusted him to know what was best.
They were in a shady area, and the place was strategically guarded by view-obscuring hedges save for one direction, which Severus had picked exactly for the reason he was about to show.
A woman was approaching, whose physical age looked no more than mid-twenties. She was pleasant to look at, but not exceeding beautiful to make her seem any more or less like the common populace. She had dirty blond hair with a smattering of auburn pulled back in a ponytail and braids. Sharp, piercing sky-blue eyes were framed by her freckled face. To the untrained eyes, she looked quite normal.
Hermione’s death grip of her tail around Severus’ told him that she sensed that there was more to the woman than just her appearance. It was a good sign as her senses were not failing her in the crowded London environment. She was also staying close to him instead of immediately bristling and taking offensive, and that was also a good sign. Instinct was not ruling her judgment. She was strong but not reckless.
As the woman walked closer, a gap what looked like fine mottling of her skin flashed between her freckles before it disappeared. Mottling that looked so very like the colouring of Hermione’s and Severus’s skin as it went down their back, trailed down the back of her neck and disappeared under her clothes. Her tails tapered into delicate points, hinting to the demon within.
As she approached, horns were curving back from her skull, and her human face was being replaced by the snarling, beastlike muzzle of the demon’s true form. The head, horns, and claws were all that shifted, and she bared her teeth at Severus in what looked like a wild animal ready to attack.
Severus, however, allowed his muzzle to form, slipping into partial transformation just enough to place his muzzle against hers in a snarl of exposed teeth. He ran his muzzle across one side of the demon’s muzzle and then the other, ichor dripping from his teeth as he did so.
Their nostrils flared in unison, and then they pulled away.
“Modron,” Severus rumbled lowly. “It has been a long time as humans go.”
“Ssssseverus,” Modron purred, licking her muzzle with her black tongue. “You have finally come into your own. Two halves united at last.”
“We saw you on the news most recently,” Severus said. “Dining on the clergy?”
“Hmmmmm, Severus,” she replied. “If it were not me devouring his needs and drives, he could not be a priest at all.”
“Public service?” Severus quipped.
“But of course,” Modron answered, tongue flicking across her teeth. “He thinks he’s helping save a young, single woman who is suffering as her pregnancy is out of wedlock. When he’s done counseling his parishioner, he felt wonderful and devout to his God, and no longer has such impure thoughts. Surely, this is better than the alternative?”
Severus curled his lips back, knowing full well what some of those alternatives were throughout history. No, what Modron did was definitely a better alternative. Demons fed on emotions, energy, magic, and memories, well at least their kind did, so in the right combination, being fed on by a demon could be better than a year of therapy from a Muggle psychiatrist and bottles upon bottles of medication.
“Severus, you have Sired,” Modron cooed. “Bare your teeth to me, my darling, and let me breathe in your scent.”
Severus felt the tremble of her tail around his, but she did as she was asked, allowing her muzzle to form. She gently bared her teeth at the unfamiliar demon, allowing her distinctive ichor to drip from her fangs. Modron mirrored her, allowing the young demon to inspect her with all her senses and memorise the details of her specific daemonic footprint.
“I am Modron,” Modron growled in a soft tone. “Sire of your Sire. I have walked this Earth for years untold.” The demon said her Name, sharing with her its music, and the knowledge that if Hermione should ever need to call upon her, her Name was at her disposal.
“I am Hermione,” Hermione replied respectfully, saying her Name as it wove with Severus’ in a distinctively layered intimacy. “My years upon the Earth are small, for I have only just undergone the Change.”
Modron stared at her, nostrils flaring. “Come, let me get to know you more intimately.” she held out her arms to Hermione, and Hermione gave Severus’ tail a tight squeeze before she stepped into the ancient demon’s embrace.
Modron placed her muzzle against Hermione’s like a caress, her lips pulling back from her teeth as her ichor dripped from her mouth in invitation. Hermione’s tongue lapped at the bottom of her jaw in a silent ask for permission, and Modron’s jaws opened and covered the younger demon’s muzzle, allowing her ancient ichor to flow between them.

Hermione fed as she would from Severus, taking in the elder demon’s chi with a flood of concentrated lessons, and information specific to females of their kind. Modron was teaching her just as one day, Hermione would teach her sprogs, only with far more concentrated memories and lessons. They would not have years to spread out the feedings, and Modron was gifting her a lot of information very, very fast.
You will not remember it all now, child. Modron’s mind voice was warm. But you will remember it all eventually, when the time is right.
Hermione was floating in the shared mindscape with a little bit of pure awe. This demon was ancient. She had sired countless demons. Not all had survived the Change. Some had come into their own as was the best outcome she could hope. Some had buried themselves to go unseen and unnoticed, rarely seen by human or demon alike.
I have seen many rise to greatness, young one, Modron said wistfully, and many more fall to obscurity. Some never fully integrate, and they live half-lived lives or go insane. Some even choose death.
Hermione remembered her brush with second death when the incomplete bond between her mate’s human and demon aspects had not occurred and flinched.
It is the only time we are vulnerable to such a degree, Modron answered her unspoken question. The time during the Change and before that which is human fully integrates with that which is demon is the time when true death is possible.
Hermione balked. What changes when… integration?
Modron chuckled in her head. Demons are immortal, child. Once they come into their own power and are fully integrated, the body is only a physical manifestation. It can be destroyed, but it can also be remade, just as we remake ourselves to appear as we do every day.
I feel like me, Hermione boggled.
Of course you do. You made yourself. Modron seemed amused. Ever wonder why each time you return to human form that sometimes you have the scars you remember from childhood and sometimes you do not? That is a residual self, Hermione. Your self image of humanity, but it is a mask, now. Sometimes, you will forget you had a freckle here, or a scar there, but you are still you, yes? You are still Hermione. You are still a demon.
Hermione gave a mental nod. She lapped submissively to the elder demon, gently running her tongue against the demon’s snarling muzzle, and Modron pulled away. She suddenly knew what was required of her, and she bared her neck to the elder with a soft whine of supplication.
Modron was on her throat with her teeth in an instant, baring down on her in a flash, but then it was over. The elder pulled away, lapping the young demon’s throat with her tongue in a comforting gesture. Dominance preserved, acknowledgement of social standing achieved, Modron had no grudge against Hermione and her acceptance had been the press of her teeth to Hermione’s neck. Hermione’s acceptance of Modron’s power had been the bearing of her neck to her. Now that it was done, it would not have to be done again.
“Now that the formalities are out of the way,” Modron said with a cheerful voice, her features reverting to her human form. “We should have lunch. There is a wonderful Italian bistro away from the hustle and bustle that will be perfect for our needs. They have some excellent lunch options and possibly the best iced coffee in London.”
Hermione looked up into Severus’ eyes hopefully, her tail sliding under his robe to entwine with his once more. Her first social experience with a demon out of the way had made her quite happy.
“Of course,” Severus said with a nod, inclining his head.
“Excellent!” agreed Modron and spun around to head off in another direction. “Let’s go!”

“So, this Harry Potter of yours,” Modron said as she sipped her coffee. “He wishes to defeat none other than Severus’ Tom Riddle? How small the world has become.”
Hermione nodded.
“He sacrificed you, his best friend, for the power of a summoned demon?” Modron asked without expecting an answer. “Curious. Even Tom threw someone he thought only convenient to the circle. Though, after seeing what was in Tom Riddle’s mind when our contract was made, I do not see him as the having a best friend type.”
“I am curious,” Hermione confessed.
“Ask your questions, child,” Modron chuckled. “It is why I am here, after all.”
“What,” Hermione paused and tried to rephrase the question. “How do you choose who to Change?”
Modron folded her hands together and seemed to think hard. “Within the Circle, it is the only time we are truly given a connection to non-demons, outside of very special connections we remember from when we were fully human. That Circle allows us to read our summoner, as well as those they cast into our circle, and many of them are… insignificant. I would not share my Name with them, nor would I wish to suffer their touch upon my body in order to bring about their Change. The idea of allowing some of them to feed from me is disgusting.”
Modron tilted her head. “For those I pick to give the offer, there is always a strong will to live. There is usually always some deeply seated pain, that once removed, releases a greater potential. There is always some greater potential, I think, some link to a destiny. There is something we, as demons, identify with that captures our attention. We are drawn to ask these potentials. It does not mean they will survive it, but there is that possibility to become something more.”
Modron inhaled and exhaled deeply. “We must, as demons, since most of us are either unmated or unable to have sprogs, choose those who, when Changed, can be our surrogate children. We bring them through their change, feed them, offer them the knowledge they need to find their own way, then release them unto the world. It is very rarer still to find one’s mate in the process.”
Hermione pondered Modron’s words carefully. “It seemed hard enough as a human to find… the right one.”
“For demons far, far more difficult,” Modron chuckled. “Smaller dating pool, as the humans say.”
Hermione laughed and nodded. Severus’ tail was looped around hers with a gentle pressure, setting her at ease as she spoke with his Sire. She had expected something different from the demon that had brought him through the transition, but she wasn’t sure what she was really expecting, either. Modron was powerful, even for a demon, and Hermione could have tasted it in the air if she hadn’t already tasted her ichor. Hermione’s eyes widened as she thought about her earlier feeding with the elder demon and blushed. “How is it that… when I fed, I didn’t… erm… this is awkward.”
Modron exchanged glances with Severus, who was turning a slight shade of crimson. “When you feed knowledge, specifically for that purpose, it changes the chemistry of the ichor. It is the same as when you feed your sprogs, or one you are bringing through the Change if knowledge is being passed. When bringing one through the Change we tend to use both. It… makes the process more pleasurable and less painful. When feeding sprogs, well, I suppose I don’t need to tell you why we’d have a different feeding formulae for those.”
Hermione flushed again, but understood.
“Much of the knowledge you will need, will come when it is time for it,” Modron said. “You need not worry. You may, however, need to worry of this.” Modron pulled a rolled up newspaper from her jacket and laid it down on the table.
Hermione and Severus looked down at the morning edition of the Prophet and scowled simultaneously. Emblazoned on the front page was the title : Trollop Hermione Granger Seduces Professor to Take Her to London during Summer Break!
The picture, however, wasn’t even remotely scandalous. Severus was storming down Diagon Alley, and Hermione was at his side, her arm tucked carefully on his sleeve. Other than that, there was nothing that seemed to imply impropriety. He had, on a number of occasions, been much more protective of her within the halls of Hogwarts in regards to her “PTSD.”
Hermione had actually been the target of Skeeter’s poisonous quill, or so Arthur Weasley had called it, more times than they could count. Molly Weasley had actually believed some of the claptrap when Skeeter had lied about Hermione breaking Harry’s heart. Those times came and went, and now everyone who even thought they knew Hermione “knew” that all of it was a bunch of lies. Hermione was “Virgin Gryffindor,” after all. No one would believe that Hermione Granger could possibly keep a relationship, seeing as she loved books more than people. Hermione wouldn’t know if someone even liked her, according to Lavender, and she definitely didn’t have any experience save finding people hiding out in broom closets on her Prefect rounds. Parvati had often snickered that Hermione’s finding people snogging in closets was the best time she ever had.
Hermione found it somewhat ironic that her “horrible reputation with boys” actually worked in her favour when it came to Skeeter, but she had to admit that the beetle Animagus had more than enough coming to her, and she fervently wished for an Instant Karma™ hex.
Hermione growled. “So many things I would like to do. Most of them involve very bloody ends.”
Modron steepled her hands together. “Now, now, Hermione,” she purred warmly. “There are so many ways for a demon to invoke change.”
Hermione perked, feeling Severus’ mutual curiosity rear its head in the back of her mind.
“Let me tell you a few things I’ve learned around… media,” the demon said with a smile. “I think, you will like it.”
Severus and Hermione both leaned in closer, eager to hear what Modron was going to say.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
"What, you're trying to threaten me, you little bint? Is that it?" Rita’s face was quite red as she scowled at Hermione. “You don’t have a jar to hold me in this time, Hermione.
"No, Rita. The time for threats is long gone. I'm here to tell you that I'm going to enjoy everything you write from now on. IN-TENSE-LY,” punctuating the last word.
"You think your veiled threats are going to stop me? I'm writing something else. People are going to know you visited me, and I'll tell them what a harlot you really are. You can’t hold my not being registered as an Animagus over me anymore! I have friends at the office!”
Hermione's eyes flickered in the dimness of the room. "Know? Of course they'll know. I was sure to greet at least fifty people on the way in. I made sure they all knew where I was going. In fact, some of them may be listening right now, just to make sure nothing horrible happens."
"You're just going to say your peace and leave? That's your big strategy?"
Hermione tilted her head. "The truth is on my side, Rita. Is it on yours?"
"The only truth people will know is what I write!"
"Oh you're right there," Hermione said with an unnerving smile. "Good day, Ms Skeeter. I look forward to the evening Prophet."
“You’ll pay for coming here, Hermione Granger!” Skeeter hissed.
“Oh, I did, actually,” Hermione said sweetly. “I paid for an entire year of Daily Prophets delivered by owl to wherever I may be.”
“You think subscribing to the paper is going to let you influence my writing? You’ve got another thing coming,” Skeeter admonished her.
“Heh,” Hermione chuckled. “Aurors as funny people. Devoted and worried that I was going to march right up here and hex you to smithereens. They were willing to protect you despite the fact you are a horrible excuse for a woman, let alone a witch. I gave them my wand, even though I can’t use it anyway thanks to it being summer.”
Rita seemed to find her courage even more after finding out that Hermione had been relieved of her wand. “I’m going to find every little bit of dirt you’re hiding, Hermione. I’m going to make you pay—”
Hermione, who had been sucking idly on one of her fingers, quickly caught Rita’s gesturing hand in hers and pulled them together as if to pray with her. “They say it’s harder to write truth instead of fiction. Be sure to tell me if it’s true.” Hermione dragged her finger across Rita’s hand and swept the room, a malevolent smile plastered across her face.
Rita Skeeter gestured over to her Quick-Quotes Quill and began to write her next story.

Hermione Granger is Sleeping with Everyone and Other Spectacular Lies
I must admit that when Hermione Granger came into the Daily Prophet, I thought I was done for. All those stories I wrote putting her with so many eligible wizards, some at the same time, were simply glorious but not in the slightest bit true.
There was a time there, one year, in fact, where she forced me to write the truth due to my being caught roaming Hogwarts as a beetle. In exchanged for years worth of writing the disgusting and boring truth, I readily went back to what I did best: write a great story.
I’ve written the most glorious of stories, from the Boy-Who-Lived to the Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, and people just eat it up like candy. Why bother writing the truth when the lies are so much more entertaining?
I expected her to come in and start hexing me, but, no, she came in without even a wand, and kindly asked me to write the truth and the truth would set me free. Truth. Psh. There is nothing glorious about the truth. Even scandals need a bit of editing to make them more juicy. Take that photograph I took the other week of Granger and Snape. They were running errands in Diagon Alley. That was boring. The truth was BORING! I made it un-boring. I made it a STORY.
Everyone should thank me for it. It’s because of me they want to even open the Prophet and read it.

“Barnabas! Barnabas! I need you to pull that article I sent you an hour ago. It was the wrong one!” Rita screeched as she burst into her editor’s office.
Barnabas Cuffe blinked at her with confused eyes. “Why, Rita, I put it directly into the evening edition, as always! The edition is so hot, the owls can’t keep up. We have people subscribing like never before. It was ingenious of you to write like that. People are talking! Calling it the Naked Rita! Get it! Naked Truth? Wahhhhh! It’s MARVELOUS, Rita! There’s going to be such a scandal that everyone in England is going to want a Daily Prophet at the breakfast table for tomorrow!” The editor twirled her around. “Ah hah hah! The Naked Rita. See you in the morning, Rita!”
Rita Skeeter, Mistress of the Written Lie, snatched her quill and some parchment and decided to write an even better article for the morning edition.

Harry Potter’s Sex Life is None of My Business
I can’t tell you how many times I followed that brat around Hogwarts, clinging to the walls in the hopes of picking up some dirt to use against this boy who seems to be too perfect. All heart, giving personality, decent grades— all of it has to be a lie. There just has to be something deplorable I can catch the boy at.
No, all my days of following that boy around, all I get was a week’s worth of grief over his innocent godfather dying and Albus Dumbledore being dead or Lord Voldemort needing to be stopped. Then, when I was finally throwing in the towel, I find out he had a nervous breakdown at the Gryffindor Tower, and I missed it. By the time I figured out what was going on, wards had been put up so extensively around the school, I couldn’t even beetle my way into the infirmary to find out what it was about.
Then, I ended up pinned up against a wall by two students using the alcove to snog. By the time they had left, my leg was caught in the girl’s hair, and I couldn’t get out until she went into the shower and tried to drown me.
What this all boiled down to, is that Harry Potter’s sex life is none of my business, and trying to make it my business is almost getting me killed.

“Remind me never to piss you off, my mate,” Severus rumbled against her neck as he laid a gentle kiss against her skin. He picked up the Prophet from the porch of Spinner’s End and held it, looking completely nervous.
“What is it, Severus?” Hermione asked. Her tail was still latched to his as often as possible, and thanks to his robes, it was often possible.
“I feel you should know,” he said with difficulty. “I am not… proud of this house. It has far more horrible memories than even a hint of positive, and—”
“It’s a part of your past, Severus,” Hermione said, tightening her grip on his tail. “You grew up here. That means something.”
Severus’ face looked so much younger and more vulnerable at that moment, and for a second, Hermione though she was staring into the face of Severus Snape in his teens, back when he shared her age.
The streets around them were empty, and the fog was so thick that it tickled the skin. There were a few sounds of conversation from open windows, but for the most part it seemed terribly barren and lifeless.
“Was it always so quiet?”
Severus nodded. “It’s either like this, which is usual, or there is screaming and barking that never stops. One of the few charms my mother put on the house without my father knowing was the silencing charm to keep the outside noise out from the walls. You could still hear it if you opened a window, that way father never suspected.”
“I can’t imagine my parents being so opposed to magic,” Hermione said. “They may not understand it, but they never treated me poorly because of it.”
“My father was a piece of work, unfortunately,” Severus confessed. “Come, we should go inside before eyes start peeking through their shutters.”
Hermione stepped into the house and shuffled in, scooting to the side as Severus followed and closed the door. It was dim inside the house, and the draperies heavy and managed to block most of the light coming in. Severus cursed softly and pushed by her. He opened a few of the windows and waved his wand, muttering a few cleaning charms in rapid succession, and a cloud of dust fled out the window like air into space. He pulled back the curtains a little to let in some ambient light, giving the luxury of being able to see without having to shift their eyes.
As Hermione found herself drawn to an adjoining room, Severus was noisily throwing things to the side, moving other things, and casting a number of cleaning charms she had yet to learn. A large cloud of dust and what she could only guess what it was went spinning past her and then fled out the open windows in a rush of wind.
By the time she entered the room that had attracted her attention, the air in the house seemed less stale and far more clean. She looked around the room with wide eyes, but not in horror. Books lined every wall. Shelf after shelf of books, from leatherbound editions to paperbacks filled every space.
She caught sight of something that interested her and rushed towards it. She looked at Severus with an imploring look, smiling when he nodded, and pulled a book off one of the shelves with an expression of complete joy.
Hermione cradled the book she had pulled from the shelf, gently blowing the dust off it. She traced the spine with her fingers as though petting Crookshanks. Tenderly, she caressed the front of the leather binding and looked as though she was going to burst into tears.
“This was my favourite book,” Hermione whispered, emotion choking her voice. “Dad used to read it to me to get me to sleep. When I was older, he read it to me because I loved it so much. To think you had the very same book on your shelves all this time.”
“Your father read to you Planetary Convergence and the Lunar Effect on Tidal Currents?” Severus asked skeptically.
“I was their first and only child, Severus,” Hermione huffed. “They didn’t have any kid’s books, so he just pulled one off his study bookshelf and started reading!” She glared at him, her tail lashing back and forth in affront, but she seemed to calm after a moment. “I really did love it when dad would read to me. It’s part of why I loved reading so much. I could hear him reading it to me in my head.”
“I will leave you to become reaquainted as I move some of the old junk away from the bedroom,” Severus said, shaking his head when Hermione looked as though she was going to offer help. “I may have been fine with sleeping on a mattress on the floor until now, but I would rather you not see that as your first sight going in. Please. Allow me to at least make it look presentable.”
Hermione nodded and looked around for a place to sit, and Severus pulled a cloth dust cover off an old leather chair that looked in surprisingly great condition. Severus shook the cover off by the window and let the dust fly out it, and folded the cover, placing it by the shelves. He swept the room, heading up the stairs, the sound of his dragonhide boots echoing against the creaking wooden floor.
Hermione flipped through the book she was holding like it was an old and cherished friend, doing her best to ignore the sounds from above that sounded like Severus was taking a jackhammer to concrete, using dynamite against the walls, and possibly dragging dead bodies from room to room.
Her eyes were drifting closed, and her grip on the book she was reading was weakening when Severus returned to her side and picked her up into his arms. He set the book down on the table with one free hand, and then hoisted her up, carrying her up the stairs to his most recently cleaned living area.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
The moment Severus’ arms were around her, she felt utterly safe. All of the thoughts running around in her head as though they were racehorses sprinting down the lane to be first to get to the end came to an abrupt end. All that was left was the feel of him, the scent of his ever strengthening combination of leather and bergamot, and the warmth of his mind.
The exchange she had had while feeding from Modron had seeded countless factoids into her mind, but they emerged from her subconscious ever so slowly, like a flower unfurling under the light of the moon. It had been a gift, she knew now, the exchange of knowledge, and in return, Hermione had shared the memories of her Making and her Change. It had been intimate and perhaps slightly embarrassing to the part of her that still had a human identity. But part of her knew now that the elder demon saw it was a great responsibility to Sire a new demon, and the exchange of knowledge was crucial to the newly Changed.
Hermione had also learned that if she were to meet another elder demon along the way, exchanges of identity and Names were just a normal part of the demon social order. If she happened to meet a younger demon than herself, it would her task to be the role of teacher, and thus it would also be her contribution to strengthening their species. Hermione knew she had been lucky. Severus’ sire was ancient and her Name was woven with the power of her age. Tendrils connected her to all she had Sired, and those her Changed had Sired, making her Name so complicated that if someone were lucky enough, or unlucky enough, to attempt to summon her into a binding circle. they would be lucky enough to escape with their lives. When you were as ancient as Modron, the only thing that could keep the demon in a circle if she didn’t want to be there was her Name. Good luck with that if you weren’t a Demon with the instinctual and innate ability to remember such things.
Modron hadn’t only focused on Hermione. She had fed Severus as well, tasting the strength of his ichor and evaluating his health much as she had with Hermione. Now that he was fully integrated, she fed him the rest of the knowledge and wisdom she had gifted Hermione, trusting that he was ready to assimilate it.
Hermione knew, from the memories, that Modron had been worried about Severus due to his sectioning off of his demon and human aspects. The longer that would have continued, the worse it would have been for him, which each half of himself never knowing what the other side was doing. The elder demon had been extremely happy to see that it had changed, and she was all the more happy to see he had found a mate in the process.
Modron had encouraged their siphoning and devouring of soul fragments and magic in their quest for sprogs, saying it would be marvelous for there to be sprogs afoot. She had said that the time was almost perfect for sprogs. Wars meant fertile times for demons. Many humans murdered each other during wars, and that meant so many more soul fragments to dine on to increase daemonic fertility. She had confessed she looked forward to helping nurture a new generation of sprogs, and Hermione and Severus had both promised her that she would always be welcome in their territory.
London, like many huge human cities, was a neutral territory. Demons could claim houses as their own within a city, but they could never claim the entire city. Huge populations meant equal feeding rights, and no demon would accuse another of territorial disputes in a large city like London. Demons, also, did not fight other demons. Territories were not for battling as much as they were so one demon did not accidently screw with another demon’s toys, thralls, or allies, or chosen. It was considered exceedingly rude mess up another demon’s “game” without permission. Some demons welcomed the challenge, but, again, a visiting demon still had to ask.
As if realising that his mate’s mind had derailed only to start up again and carry her off into the land of introspection, Severus growled softly into her ear as his tail wrapped around hers and his tongue circled her outer lobes. Hermione’s eyes fluttered in pleasure, and her arms welcomed his weight on top of her as he both pressed down and cuddled her at the same time.
Whatever the bedroom had looked like before, Hermione would never know, but it was quite comfortable now. It put her at ease, and she could feel her mate’s relief that she did not abhor it. It was a bit sparse, and contained only a bed, dresser, trunk, and a bedside table, but it was clean, and the a cool breeze was coming in from the open windows. There was just enough fresh air to combine with Severus’ strong musk to cause her to purr.
The breeze from the window caused the metal beads in Severus’ daemonic mane to clink together like wind chimes, and Hermione touched them with her fingers. They always appeared when he shifted forms. She chuckled. Like magic.
Slowly a memory crept into her mind. Modron had placed them there. They marked him as “hers” and any demon worth their species would recognise who Sired him. She inspected them more closely. They were beautiful. They looked like metal from afar, but when she looked closer, she saw they were somewhat transparent. Runes covered them, but they were not the kind of runes taught in Ancient Runes. These runes were alive. They moved, shifted, and changed as she looked at them, but she knew the moment she laid eyes on them that they were Modron’s Name— her full Name.
“They are so beautiful,” Hermione whispered, “and now I know what they are.”
“Not just stylish hair accessories?” Severus rumbled in amusement, his dark tongue flicking over his teeth.
Hermione gazed at them with affection. “She cares for you very much.”
Severus lowered his mouth to her forehead and licked tenderly. “I had no idea than what I do now. I thought she was mocking me, marking me to humiliate me, and laughing at my imperfections.”
Hermione touched his cheek. “The feed? She shared her feelings?”
Severus nodded. “I was finally ready to know the truth. I am… glad it was her that Changed me.”
Hermione smiled up at him, rubbing his scalp where his horns would emerge during the change. “I am glad it was you that Changed me, Severus. Though, I suppose, as long as I found you afterwards, I could have dealt with being Changed by someone else.”
Severus growled, nipping her ear, letting her know that no one but him was going to do that, even if he had to find a Time Turner to ensure it.
Hermione giggled, endeared to his possessiveness. Had she been fully human, it may have been a negative trait, but it was a perfectly healthy daemonic emotion. She grasped one of Modron’s beads and smiled as the thrum of her Name whispered to her. She felt no jealousy. Modron had given her Severus. “I would not protest if you were to Mark me with your Name,” she said wistfully.
Severus grew very still as he swallowed audibly. “You would… like me to?” His voice was vulnerable.
“I’m surprised you haven’t already,” Hermione answered, brushing her palm against his cheek.
“I did not… know how yet,” Severus confessed.
“You do not have to, if you do not wish to, Severus,” Hermione said a bit sadly. “I simply like the idea of bearing your Name.”
Severus trembled slightly. “You have no idea how much… I want to.”
Hermione placed a gentle kiss upon his lips. “Share with me, Severus. I want you. I want to be yours. I want your sprogs growing in my womb. Believe me, I want it too.”
His elegant black tongue slid from between his lips and traced hers. She groaned as her mouth opened for his attention, and he covered her mouth with his. He pulled away slightly as she bared her teeth at him, muzzle pushing out as her arousal grew. Ichor dripped from her teeth.
He bared his teeth, tasting her ichor in the back of his mouth, savouring it, inspecting it, tasting her readiness. With the gift of knowledge from his sire, he knew that his mate’s ichor would change with both her mood and fertility. In combination, there would be no doubt as to whether she was in season, and when that happened, he wouldn’t leave her side until she was heavy in sprog.
At the moment, she tasted like a light chai, which gave the prospect of sharing tea and coffee with his mate an entirely new meaning. Under it, however, he detected the slightly delicate hint of peaches.
Peaches!
That was her sign. It would be small, now, but like her growing musk of grapefruit, her body was telling him exactly how close, or how far, she was for coming into season.
Thanking his sire for her gift of daemonic life-skills, he pressed his mouth to hers, allowing her to feed.
“Mmm,” she purred into his mouth, licking his teeth and lips with her tongue. “You taste like hazelnut coffee with a hint of glorious cream.”
Severus rumbled, rubbing his muzzle against hers in approval. He sat up, straddling the bed. “Come, put your back to me.”
Hermione murmured in half-protest, but snuggled her back up to his chest, and Severus growled into her ear as he rubbed her shoulders, silencing any protest she may have had as his hands kneaded her muscles. The effect was instantaneous. She slumped, her wing markings rippled on her back, her wings on the brink of manifesting. Her demon was rising to the surface to merge with her completely, sharing in every touch, smell, taste, and sound.
Hermione’s soft moan as her demon merged with her, sent ripples of pleasure through him. Hearing the distinctive joined voice that was Hermione caused an answering shift in himself. His muzzle jutted forward, filled with razor sharp teeth, and he grasped the nape of her neck with a low growl. Hermione froze, body trembling in resonance to his action, and she moaned invitingly.
He grasped her firmly, pinching her skin between his teeth, and her wings burst out and flapped. his layered over hers, and they moved in unison, mirroring each other in an ancient dance. His wing talons locked with hers. keeping his wings bound to hers. He held her against his body, crooning and licking her tresses of hair, soaking them in his ichor as his tongue massaged it into her scalp.
Hermione panted heavily, her muzzle parted as her teeth chattered together. She licked her teeth over and over as her ichor dripped from her mouth in involuntary response.
He put one of his braids in his mouth, tonguing the bead that was placed there, and pulled it off. He worked his ichor around it, infusing the music of his Name to join that of his Sire’s and then spit it out into his hand. He bit into his hand, and thick black blood oozed forth from his teeth marks. He placed the bead within his bleeding palm, bathing the bead with its new layer of daemonic lacquer.
This was the Lineage. This was their combined heritage, tracing back to when demons were only an idea that hovered in the darkness of Creation. His blood, his ichor, and his Name imprinted on the bead, and then he would bond it to her. And were she were to Sire another, she would do the same when her “child” was ready to leave her embrace. When the time was right, they would gift their sprogs with their combined Names, marking them blessed amongst demons. They would carry the combined Names of their parents along with their shared Lineage. Severus looked forward to it greatly.
Severus formed one of Hermione’s dampened curls into a silken dread and clamped it with the bead. Leaning in closer, he breathed on its surface until it glowed brightly, and a burst of magic spread through Hermione’s body.
Hermione roared, her voice trembling as her body bucked against him. Her wings pumped, her claws scraped the air, and her tail twisted with his with a vice-like grip. She panted, moaned, and whined as the deep magic soaked into her body and mind, binding to her. Severus held her close, purring, crooning, and stroking her body, letting her know he was there, and Hermione latched onto his presence and let go, allowing the Marking to consume her.
Severus remembered his Marking from Modron so many years previous, but he had not been as accepting as Hermione. The demon in him had let itself go to it, but the human had fought it, desperate to remain himself to the process and unknowing of the gift it was meant to be. No, he hadn’t realised the gift it was until he had fed from his Sire decades after his Change, and she had given him her memories of it.
Hermione trusted him. Truly, deeply, and genuinely trusted him. That was the difference that allowed her to fling herself off into the unknown. As long as he was there, she trusted he would be there to catch her if she fell, and he prayed to whatever gods might be listening that he would never let her down.
As the convulsions tore through Hermione’s body, she bucked against him, and he wrapped his wings around them both, cradling her against his body as she panted in his ear.
She went still against him, and a breeze picked up from the window. His hair beads clinked together with a soothing tinkle, but joined with it was the answering melody of Hermione’s— the beads had proliferated in her hair as the magic had bonded to her aura, Marking her as part of his bloodline, of Modron’s, and of all the demons that had come before her.
Severus snuggled into her, ensuring the touch of her skin to his as his eyes drifted slowly shut.
I love you, her mind voice whispered.
Ours! His heart leapt.
He clutched her tightly, wrapping his wings around her as if afraid she would vapourise. I love you, too.

Summer went by fast, as it always did, but none so much as it did for the two demons learning how both be with each other and wean each other off the other’s alluring presence. For two creatures who had lived as long as they had without having someone close to them, it seemed they were making up for lost time by being extra clingy now that they were.
Hermione’s parents were due to leave for their once in a lifetime cruise and job relocation, and Hermione knew it was time to say goodbye to the people who had given her life, raised her to be best she could be, and loved her despite her swotty nature and tendency to quote out of books.
With the deed in her name, their new house waiting for them in Australia and all their shipped items already waiting for them, Mr and Mrs Granger were almost ready to leave the nest of their own making. Each of them seemed both excited and sad. Her parents had happily left Hermione enough of the old furniture to make the house not seem like it was completely empty. They had left her mother’s beloved coffee machine with detailed instructions to not neglect it. Her father had left her a library full of books, including an old, worn, and loved copy of Planetary Convergence and the Lunar Effect on Tidal Currents. Her mother had left her a old contact photo scrapbook, complete with her birth certificate postcards from every vacation, a chain of baby pictures including some of the moving ones she had given them from Hogwarts.
Her mother, in her forethought, had left an open, yet decorated, space for her graduation pictures, and a part of Hermione had shed a tear or two when she saw it. After that was a decorated page with a book and other things Hermione had liked growing up surrounded an empty space marked only with her mother’s handwriting on a piece of paper stating “tall, dark-haired, and mysterious.” Beyond that was a page with white lace and doves, silver ribbon, and bells with a note from her mother and father saying “it doesn’t matter who you chose, as long as it’s right for you. We love you, and we expect wedding invitations the moment it’s official. Send them by flying kangaroo, if need be, or whatever wizards use in Australia. Love Mom and Dad.”
Hermione had clung to her parents like a child of five, tears in her eyes, but joy in her heart. Her nostrils had picked up the slight alteration of her mother’s scent. Mrs Granger was pregnant, and in approximately nine months, Hermione would have a sibling that would never know her and she would never know them.
It was obvious that neither Mr or Mrs Granger knew of her changed condition, and Hermione was okay with that. They would find out, perhaps half way through the cruise when her mother had a strange case of morning seasickness that was all too predictable. They would celebrate the coming of their first child together, blissfully swept up in the joy of the moment as a dream they never thought possible came true. By then, they would be Mr and Mrs Wendell and Monica Wilkins, ex-pat English Dentists. They would raise their child, no, twins. Their twins would be raised with kangaroos and wallabies as playmates. Mr Wilkins would walk the beaches with his progeny, warning them to not pick up dangerous cone snails and to avoid the blue-ringed octopi. Mrs Wilkins would sit under her beach umbrella reading A Winter’s Tale.
Hermione knew her parents deserved this happiness and the safety that only leaving behind their memories of her could bring them. They would never ask for such a thing, and that is why she would give it to them. It would be a demon’s kindness— the highest respect given to a non-demon: a happy, oblivious life.
Perhaps one day, Mr and Mrs Wilkins would fall into a deep sleep, and they would dream. They would dream of a strange woman they had never seen before, yet seemed so utterly familiar. They would dream of a tall, dark-haired, mysterious man, and both would take their vows together. In a blink of an eye, they would see children, playing about their feet, pulling on them to join them in play. The children would leap into their arms and call them Grandma and Grandpa, and all would be right with the world. Then, Mr and Mrs Wilkins would wake up, strangely comforted, but confused as to why they would both dream about a couple they had never met. It would be fine. They would be fine.
By the time that Severus and Hermione had followed them all the way to the boarding gates of the Heathrow terminal, all the things they could say had already been said. Mutual tears, heartfelt hugs, and the kind of love that softened Severus Snape’s dour expression had all been said and done.
Mr Granger had clasped Severus’ hand in his and bid him take care of his daughter while Mrs Granger enfolded Hermione in one last hug before they went the last stretch of the terminal alone.
In a strange, almost slow motion synchrony, Hermione and Severus pressed their lips to the Granger’s foreheads, let their daemonic ichor press into their skin, and devoured their memories of Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, Hogwarts, a talented child who loved Planetary Convergence and the Lunar Effect on Tidal Currents, and the knowledge of the Wizarding World.
Hermione and Severus stepped back, their black all-encompassing daemonic eyes shifting back into their human brown and black, and they let out their breath slowly.
Mr and Mrs Granger blinked together and shook their head.
“Oh, look at us, Wendell, prattling on in front of two complete strangers,” the new Mrs Wilkins said with a sigh. “I’m so sorry, dears. I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to the two of us and our dreams of Australia.”
“No, I quite enjoyed it,” Hermione said with a sad smile. “Truly.”
“Thank you for keeping us company, Madam…?” he trailed off, unsure what to call her. “I’m sorry, all this talking and I completely spaced off your name.”
"Snape," Hermione said with a sad smile. "Hermione Snape."
"What a beautiful name," Mr Wilkins said. "The Mrs and I always said if we had a daughter we'd name her Hermione."
“I do hope the two of you enjoy your visit to London,” Mrs Wilkins said cheerfully. “There is so much to see.”
"Have a wonderful trip, Mr and Mrs Wilkens," Hermione said. "Be safe."
Mr and Mrs Wilkins smiled at them and picked up their luggage and carried it down the terminal towards their future.
Hermione stepped into Severus’ embrace and wept.

A/N: Snifflesniffle…. SOOOOOBBBBB! *cries on fluffpanda* hold me.
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In the Darkness in Which We Are Made