Chapter Text
In the seven months following Voldemort's final defeat at the hands of The Boy Who Lived Twice, all the dead from both sides had been claimed and buried, the reconstruction of Hogwarts had commenced in earnest, and the trials had begun for the captured Death Eaters and Dark Lord sympathizers.
After all these stresses, the Wizarding community as a whole was in dire need of a distraction, something to celebrate.
To this end, the newly elected Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt - with the full approval of the Wizengamot - announced the first annual Yule Ball and fundraiser that was to be held in the Ministry's fully restored Atrium and events room near the end of December.
Throughout these long months of rebuilding their world, Ronald Weasley had (repeatedly and unsuccessfully) been trying everything he could to convince Hermione Granger to be his witch, to settle down and start having his babies, "It's only natural," he'd say, giving her a knowing wink, "We'd be doing our part to restore our community," he added, hoping to appeal to her fervent need to aid their society, "Besides, we're meant for each other, 'Mione," repeating the sentiment his Mum used at least once during Sunday dinners at the Burrow.
"So, what do you say, 'Mione?" asked Ron, giving her his (what he truly believed to be) most charming smile - to Hermione, it made him appear constipated, "I was thinking a wedding at Gretna Green next week would be absolutely perfect. Plus, Mum promised to cook all my favourite foods for the reception at the Burrow."
The witch in question scowled at him, "For the last time, Ronald. One kiss during the heat of the Battle after destroying a Horcrux does NOT mean we're courting, betrothed or 'meant' to be together! No matter what you or your Mother believes," she ground out between clenched teeth, "We have nothing in common but our friendship with Harry, we argue frequently whenever we're together, and when we meet up weekly at The Three Broomsticks with Harry and Ginny for an evening out all you ever want to talk about is Quidditch or food! It's never about my plans for the future."
"So my response is, as always, an emphatic 'NO!' ", growled Hermione, turning on her heels and storming away, leaving a flustered Ronald behind in her wake, "You can also tell Molly to butt out and cease her matchmaking efforts as it won't work."
This last disappointing encounter had happened two weeks before the Yule Ball and Ronald, along with Molly, had been rather busy since then, determined that it would be the final time he was rejected by the stubborn witch.
And if their schemes panned out as he believed (and why shouldn't they?) it would also help a few other reluctant couples finally see who was missing from their lives...Harry and Ginny, in particular.
Hermione arrived at the Ministry with Ginny Weasley at her side, both of them having taken Harry up on his offer to ready themselves for the event in the relative quiet and safety of their chosen rooms at Grimmauld Place, much to Molly's and Ron's displeasure. They then further irritated the mother-son duo by attending as each others 'plus ones', neither being overly bothered should their arm-in-arm appearance cause the rumour mill to start wildly spinning - anyone that truly knew them wouldn't believe anything The Daily Prophet printed about them anyway.
When the pair of friends made their entrance through the Ministry Atrium and into the main events room, they were brusquely accosted by Ronald, his normally pale and freckled face rapidly shifting to a shade of red that clashed horribly with his ginger hair.
"About time you two showed up, the rest of the family are already seated at our reserved table," he snapped, then wrinkling his nose in disgust when he finally took notice of Hermione's choice of attire - she'd opted to wear a form-flattering, Slytherin-green, floor-length sleeveless gown with strappy silver heels, the cut of the dress purposely selected to proudly display her battle scars, "Eugh, 'Mione. Must you wear those slimy snakes house colours? And why aren't you Glamouring those nasty scars, no one wants to see those wretched things, they'll put everyone off their food."
Ginny hurriedly stepped between her youngest brother and her best female friend, speaking up in Hermione's defense, "Well then, it's a good thing that we're not sitting with the rest of the family, Ronald," she scowled, poking her youngest brother in the chest with a sharp, manicured nail, "Now, if you'll excuse us, Luna and Neville are expecting us."
A rather nasty sneer bloomed across Ron's face at his only sister's pronouncement, "So that's how it is, you're cheating on me with Neville Longbottom, of all people," he snarled, pointing an accusing finger at Hermione.
"For Merlin's Sake, Ronald!" hiss-whispered Hermione, rolling her eyes in exasperation, "There's no cheating because We.Are.Not. a couple, you Sodding git! Now, kindly stand aside before I hex you into next week."
Ronald fumed in frustrated silence as he watched the two witches quickly disappear into the large, milling crowd of festively dressed Wxen partygoers. But his dour mood rapidly melted away like a snowflake under a Summer sun when he caught a fleeting glimpse of his shamefully attired wife-to-be and his equally scandalously dressed sister strolling beneath the wide, arched doorway that led to the ballroom.
'Brightest Witch of Our Age, my arse,' he smirked to himself, 'She didn't even notice the Animae Ligantes or the Revela Verum Socium spells that I inscribed on the door frames.'
'Not that it mattered if she had, Mum's memory charms would've erased the images from her mind within seconds,' he silently crowed, grabbing a glass of Champagne from a nearby floating serving tray to celebrate, 'Besides, before the night's over, she'll be far too busy with pleasing me, like a right proper witch.'
Severus Snape loathed holiday functions and the Ministry's Yule Ball was no exception. But Minerva - that sly old cat - had not so subtly promised that if he failed to make an appearance and remain at the event for an hour minimum that he could expect to look forward to a year's worth of chaperoning duties on all the Hogsmeade weekends.
So here he stood, ensconced in the shadows, glaring at anyone who dared approach him uninvited. Well, almost everyone. He still regarded the entire Malfoy family as good friends which was why Lucius was currently sharing in his darkened corner for a spot of people watching - Narcissa and Draco, however, had elected to flit about the crowd like the social butterflies that they were, leaving the two wizards to their snarky running commentary about everyone who entered the brightly decorated room.
But when the Misses Granger and Weasley strolled through the doorway, that amusing pastime screeched to an abrupt halt.
"Oh, my. What have we here? Don't those two lovely young ladies look absolutely delectable, Severus?" purred Lucius, his silver-eyes appreciably drinking in the luscious figures of both witches, "I wonder if we could tempt them into a quiet alcove for a bit of...conversation."
"Emphasis on the young," drawled Severus, his own eyes focused on the as-yet-unrecognized brunette, "And shame on you, Lucius, you're a married man."
Lucius smirked at his raven-haired friend, "You know very well that Narcissa and I had an arranged marriage, Severus. And once she produced my heir, we've become no more than housemates. We're simply good friends, nothing more, we lead separate lives."
"Now, shall we wander over and introduce ourselves or are you going to continue being an irascible, miserable git for the remainder of the night?
Molly watched her youngest son as he stomped towards the Weasley family's reserved table, his eyes taking on the harsh appearance of cold chips of blue ice, frustration mixed with anger evident on his flushed face.
"I know the enchantments couldn't have failed, I double checked them myself," presuming the cause for his demeanor she whispered so only he could hear, attempting to diffuse her youngest son's temper before he could launch into a tirade and inadvertently blurt out their schemes to the unsuspecting crowd nearby, "So, what's got your knickers in a twist, Ronald?"
It took a plate (or three) of food and an equal number of tumblers of Ogden's to calm Ron enough to finally speak coherently about his earlier encounter, "It's 'Mione...Ginny, too," he grumbled, a glob of masticated mince pie tumbling from his mouth to the table as he spoke, "Sodding bints, think they know what's best for them, that they don't need a wizard in their lives."
Molly gently patted her snarling man-child on the arm, "Not to worry, dear. Our spellwork will correct their way of thinking any moment now. And then, you and Harry will have your witches on their knees before you, practically begging for forgiveness and to be yours like they should've been all along."
Ron's sour mood shifted in an instant, "I like the sound of that," he grinned impishly, the image of a subservient Hermione causing certain parts of his body to respond in anticipation, "Want to make a bet on who gets pregnant first, Mother dearest?"
The Weasley Matriarch scoffed, "That's a suckers bet, Ronniekins. And I'm no fool, our family's fertility genes are far superior to the Potter's. However, I will make a wager on the number and gender of both your offspring."
Ron briefly mulled things over, then answered, "That's fair, I'll take that bet."
After their, thankfully brief, unpleasant encounter with Ronald, Hermione and Ginny grabbed some drinks, chatted until their glasses were empty and then parted ways. Ginny made a beeline towards Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, who'd just arrived back at their reserved table with a plate of nibbles and drinks, leaving Hermione by herself near the desserts table - neither having noticed the steady approach of the two keenly interested Slytherin wizards (well, Lucius was intrigued...Severus was there mainly to keep his friend out of trouble).
When the ginger-haired witch left the brunette's company, Lucius sighed, "Bugger all, I was so looking forward to comparing notes with you after our trysts, Severus. However, I'm more than happy to share the delightful Miss Granger with you..if she's willing," his unexpected comments resulted in the rare sound of choked laughter from the Potions Master.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow at his friend, "What do you find so amusing?"
"Where do I even begin," drawled Snape, stopping in his tracks, forcing Lucius to halt in his pursuit of the Gryffindor witch.
But whatever else Severus intended to say was interrupted by an exceptionally powerful blast of magic, the concussive force of light and sound knocking everyone within the ballroom to the ground.
Remus Lupin struggled to regain his footing, the obnoxiously loud ringing in his overly sensitive ears adding to his disorientation. Despite this obstacle, his instincts drove him to seek out his young mate, his breath catching in his throat when he caught sight of her Mother kneeling over her prone form casting a series of diagnostics.
"Is Dora...?" he began, only for Andromeda to 'shush' him while she completed her spellwork.
"Not to worry, Remus," she soothed, tenderly brushing a wayward strand of hair from her daughter's pale face, "She's simply stunned is all...well, not exactly all," Andromeda's tone suddenly turning accusatory as she stared down her son-in-law (a feat in itself considering he was towering over her), "When, exactly, were you two going to tell me that you're expecting again?"
"Ahh...yes, that... well...ummm, tonight, actually," stuttered Remus, looking rather sheepish for a Werewolf.
Any further conversation was drowned out by the sounds of distress coming from various people about the ballroom, the closest one on Remus' left brought his attention to the entryway, his heart sinking to his stomach at the sight of the crumbled ruins blocking their escape. A gentle touch to his shoulder broke his gaze, bringing his focus back to Andromeda and Dora.
"It's alright, Remus. No one's underneath that pile of rubble, I already checked," assured Andromeda, turning to walk away, "Stay here with Dorie and my new grandchild-to-be, I need to lend a wand with the other injured now."
Remus silently nodded his agreement while kneeling beside his mate, a crooked smile lighting up his face when Dora's eyes finally fluttered open and she looked up at him.
"Welcome back, Love."
Hermione attempted to roll herself into a seated position, letting out a grumbling moan as she did, but her limbs stubbornly refused to co-operate. In fact, her whole body felt odd, tingly and...different somehow.
She didn't have time to further contemplate what this could mean, though, as her attention was immediately drawn elsewhere when other Wixen close by began moving about, a few sounding as if they were in extreme pain.
Slowly turning her head towards the sounds, Hermione bit back a shocked gasp when she caught sight of the two wizards nearest to her. She blinked a few times, attempting to clear her vision only to discover she wasn't hallucinating. Lord Lucius Malfoy and Professor Severus Snape were indeed glowing, bathed in an ethereal golden light, like celestial figures within an illuminated manuscript.
Granger found herself inexplicably drawn to the older wizards like the proverbial moth to a flame, unable to look away, taking in each not-so-subtle alterations to their physical appearances with great interest.
Ordinarily, both men wore their shoulder length hair pulled back at the nape of their neck with a leather band into a low ponytail. Now, however, their locks fell in a loose, shiny curtain to mid-back. Plus, each wizards' pair of ears were elongated, tapering to a slightly upturned point.
And where they differed was just as intriguing. Sprouting from Snape's back, there were a set of large midnight-black wings and several equally dark feathers interwoven with his ebony-coloured hair, whereas, Malfoy Sr. had neither of these features.
If Hermione didn't know better, she would've believed this transformation was the result of a prank pulled off by Fred and George Weasley. But, she'd witnessed Ginny threatening her older brothers with Fury-like retribution if they dared ruin her evening. Besides, the destruction of the entryway, inciting panic and causing painful injuries just wasn't their style...this was the work of something or someone else.
But as to why and for what purpose, she hadn't the faintest idea.
"Merlin's Sagging Balls!" cursed Snape, lowering his wand and Finite'ing what was left of his hastily cast Protego, "Are you alright, Lucius?" turning to face his friend, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the other man's altered form, "What the actual Fuck happened to you?" gesturing towards Malfoy's longer-than-normal ears, "You look like a cut-rate Polyjuiced version of Legolas," he smugly declared. When all he got in response was a blank stare from Lucius, Severus rolled his eyes skyward in exasperation at the blonde wizard's lackluster literary knowledge (made all the more egregious - in Snape' opinion, at least - given the size and scope of the Malfoy library), "He's one of the more notable warrior-elf characters from a famous series of Muggle fantasy novels!"
Ignoring Snape's snarky explanation, Malfoy cautiously stood up on wobbly feet and legs, his own tattered shield charm spluttering then vanishing from sight, "You've no room to critique my appearance, Severus. For not only do you have long, ridiculously pointed ears, like myself, but you're also sporting Sodding wings like some strange human-raven hybrid!"
The two wizards would have continued verbally sniping with one another for several long minutes but they were distracted mid-gripe by an alluring, honeyed-voice. "Please, Professor Snape, Lord Malfoy. I'm in desperate need of your assistance, Sirs," trilled Hermione from where she still lay in a semi-prone position, her body remaining, steadfastly, uncooperative, "I lost my wand in that dreadful explosion and my magic feels strangely out of sorts, as a result. Maybe I'm concussed? Whatever the cause, I'm afraid to cast even a simple Accio for fear of it going horribly wrong. So, please. Would one of you help me?"
Both men turned as one, their breaths catching in their throats in recognition even as they took in the sight of the possibly injured Hermione Granger. Like them, her ears were pointed - only, not as long. Her tresses, which had fallen from its previous confinement of hair pins and magic, cascaded over her shoulders in soft chestnut-coloured curls, the strands occasionally writhing as if moved by an imaginary breeze. And on her back there fluttered the most delicate looking silver-blue butterfly wings. But, it was her eyes that were absolutely mesmerizing. Gone were the whiskey-amber orbs of her school days, in their place shone brilliant, yellow-gold irises that seemed to not only glow from within but gaze directly into their souls.
"Please, will you help me?" she begged of them once more.
Lucius was the first to move towards the young witch, Severus following closely in his wake like a second shadow. But as Malfoy raised his wand to cast a diagnostic scan over Granger, a fiery red-violet spell sizzled through the air between them, striking the ground near Malfoy's feet, sending bits of the marble floor and dust particles flying into the air.
"Get away from my 'Mione you filthy Death Eaters!" hissed Ronald Weasley coming to stand partially between Hermione and the older men, his nostrils flaring wide and his face flushing scarlet, a wholly unattractive sight, "She doesn't need slimy Bastards like you two slithering around her. So clear off!"
A feral growl emerged from the witch in question, her hair becoming even more animated when bluebell flames flickered through several strands as she spoke, "I am not, nor will I ever be 'yours', Ronald. I thought I made that perfectly clear to you not more than an hour ago," Hermione stated through clenched teeth, her nose wrinkled in exasperation, "And for Morgana's sake, stop calling me by that wretched nickname! I've told you, repeatedly, how much I hate it."
Ignoring her heated remarks, Ron nattered on, firmly believing that the Animae Ligantes and Revela Verum Socium were about to take effect any second now, that his stubborn witch was soon to experience a long overdue epiphany, that they were Soulmates and truly meant to be together, "Come on 'Mione, let's get you somewhere nicer...more private, like our room at the Burrow," he smirked, holding his hand out for her to take while still keeping his eyes and wand on Malfoy and Snape, "It's for the best, don't cha' think? We do want to get a headstart on making those grandchildren for Mum, after all."
At her sudden gasp, Ronald quickly glanced over at the semi-prone Hermione, almost giddy with the thought that the enchantment had finally done its work. Unfortunately (for him), the sight that greeted him wasn't one of a thoroughly love struck witch but that of a furious...Thing, a Creature with 'Mione's face.
Jumping to an absolutely wrong conclusion, Ron's head snapped back to the older wizards, only then noticing their altered features.
"What did you two Freaks do to my 'Mione? Change her back. Now!" he demanded, after flicking an overpowered Stupefy and Compulsion at Snape and Malfoy respectively, neither spell hitting its mark.
Unable to return offensive spells in retaliation for fear of striking Hermione in the process, Lucius and Severus proceeded in making a show of casting a Finite Incantatem over the four of them, exaggerating the wand movements for good measure so that even the ranting Weasley would be able to follow them without too much trouble. And it was with little surprise, to Severus at least, that absolutely nothing changed with any of their appearances.
Well, almost. It seemed that the youngest male Weasley had utilized an Engorgio Charm to inflate the size of his...ego.
With his typical smug expression in place - one he frequently employed whenever dealing with particularly irritating dunderheaded persons - Snape drawled, "As you can plainly see, Mr. Weasley," his lips curling into a hateful sneer as he uttered the boy's name, "Neither Lucius nor I had anything whatsoever to do with our current states of being."
"Bollocks!" bellowed Ron, his complexion bordering on puce at having his embarrassing...shortcomings exposed in public but, especially, in front of his future wife, "If it wasn't a spell, then...then you used some sort of potion and... and a Dark one at that!" he stammered, fumbling about for the right words, "Now, where's the antidote? Hand it over!"
Lucius rolled his eyes at the ginger-haired menace, "Your dazzling leaps of logic are utterly ridiculous," he snipped, his patience wearing thin, "Think, for once in your life. What purpose would it serve to dose ourselves with this fictitious potion?"
Ronald opened his mouth to spout off his latest unfounded accusations, but he never got the chance to voice them. It seems that while the three wizards were focused on each other, Hermione had finally regained some function in her arms - and her legs to a lesser extent - slowly managing to scrabble through the debris scattered about the floor within easy reach and, eventually, laid her hands upon a hefty bit of broken table leg.
With all the energy she could muster, Hermione cautiously pressed herself up into a wobbly standing position then commenced with thrashing her former friend about the head, wand arm and knees with the makeshift club, taking a macabre sense of satisfaction with the 'crunch' made when Ron's wrist broke.
Taking advantage of this unexpected distraction, Lucius confiscated Weasley's dropped wand and thoroughly immobilized the twit with a combined Incarcerous and Petrificus Totalus, adding a Silencio for good measure. Severus, on the other hand, currently had his arms full with an exhausted Hermione (he'd barely managed to catch her when she collapsed, the sight causing his heart to tightly clench in his chest).
"Thank Merlin that unpleasantness is over," said Lucius, levitating the silently fuming Weasley behind them, his eyes scanning the crowd of dazed partygoers, hoping to find a trusted Auror amongst them and lodging formal charges once he turned the ginger pest over for processing. "Is there anyone you recommend to handle this bothersome brat?"
When he didn't receive an immediate response, Malfoy turned towards Snape and chuckled at the sight that greeted him.
Having found a, relatively, undamaged section of settee, Severus had carefully seated himself upon the hastily Scorgified cushions with Hermione firmly settled upon his lap, her head comfortably nestled against the crook of his neck, her arms gently draped around his shoulders, snuggling into the welcoming warmth of his surprisingly soft wings. And whatever she was currently whispering into his left ear had effectively stunned the dark- haired man into a rare state of shocked silence.
But, the slowly emerging smile (in this case, a slight twitching upturn of the right corner of his mouth) on Severus' face, the fiery gleam of hope and desire lighting up the depths of his near-solid black eyes, and the soft rustling of his ebony-coloured wings as they slowly enfolded the couple for a bit of privacy, had a small pang of jealously clenching at Lucius' heart. Not that he wasn't happy for his long time friend only....well, he'd never admit it aloud (he was a Slytherin, after all), he found himself desperately wanting to be a part of their budding connection.
With a heavy sigh, Malfoy turned away from the pair, intent on making his way towards the newly spotted Minister Shacklebolt and Headmistress McGonagall at the center of the ballroom, both skillfully directing others in the care of the injured and the clearing away of debris.
Lucius had barely taken two steps when a familiar, silky baritone reached his ears. "And just where do you think you are going?" cooed Severus, the sinfully rich sound sending pleasant shivers up Malfoy's spine.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself as he looked back over his shoulder at the raven-haired wizard, Lucius replied, "As you can plainly see, I'm taking this ginger-menace to the Minister to be properly dealt with before returning here," he drawled, moving another three paces towards Shacklebolt, "Afterwards, I presumed you two wish to talk about what was happening prior to this wretched Weasel interrupting?"
The smug grin on Severus' face widened further, "Amongst other things. So do hurry back, old friend, or we may have to start without you," he teasingly threatened, hissing in undisguised pleasure seconds later when Hermione whispered into his ear again before nibbling at the pulse point on his neck.
"And I advise you to pick up the pace."