Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose and Dutchgirl01 with Flyby Commander Shepard

Beta Dragged In Kicking and Screaming (sorry?): FawkesyLady

A/N: Halloween short, yay! Also, total crack. (Oh come on, it's me. Do you really expect anything else?)

One Man's Scare is Another Man's Normalcy

An Almost Short-Story for Halloween by Corvus-Draconis

Monsters aren't as scary if you start shining lights on them.

Wyatt Cenac

Hermione yawned as she finished up her studies for the day and put her books

away. She looked out over the infirmary and stood up to check on the patients. Technically, she was done with her studies, but she rarely if ever stopped studying.

She had returned to Hogwarts to finish her education, having not wanted to take the free pass like so many of the others had. War heroine or not, she had always wanted to stand on her own two feet. What she had not expected was finding a knack for healing in her quest to rid herself of her badge of courage, still having the foul word Mudblood cruelly engraved upon her flesh.

N.E.W.T.s having come and gone, Madam Pomfrey had taken her under wing, having seen that while she had not successfully rid herself of Bellatrix' little parting "gift", she had tapped into a vast pool of healing power in other areas.

Disheartened by her inability to "fix" her scar, she had focused extra hard on her studies with Madam Pomfrey. Yet, since her brain tended to tunnel vision when she studied, she had completely ostracised herself from anything outside of it, leading to quite a few spats with Harry and Ron, who were determinedly attempting to pull her out of Hogwarts to join them for a career in Magical Law Enforcement.

Now, she was a healer in her own right—but she still stayed with Poppy Pomfrey to ease the burden of crazy children trying to break themselves over and over.

There was a billowing rush of fabric as the brooding potions master walked into the infirmary carrying a crate full of potions and salves. His dark eyes flicked from one place to another as he saw her, but he said nothing. He hadn't said anything to her since Nagini—

Hermione gestured to the bed, and he sat down stoically. She ran her wand over him and then focused on his neck. She carefully unfastened his collar, and he pulled his cravat away from his neck. She filled the basin with warm water, mixed in an antiseptic rinse, and carefully cleaned his neck.

He winced but said nothing. Allowing her to do her ministrations as she desired.

Hermione knew he had been struggling to heal his wound for about as long as she'd been fighting her not-quite-healing scar wound. While she had Dark Magic laced in hers, he had Nagini's flesh-degrading-venom plaguing him day by day.

Ever so slowly, her healing had become more focused—more attuned—to his needs. She had been able to contain the poison to one area and leech it away little by little, but the process was painful. She only did it a little at a time to prevent trauma to his tissues as well as his mind. He, of all people, didn't need extra help remembering torturous pain.

Oddly, in those quiet moments, they seemed to come to an understanding. Neither of them could speak. His neck made it painful for him, and a Weasley test-prank gone wrong had made it impossible for her to speak. She'd tried, but all the healers could say was that her voice was pitched much higher than what was human. Dogs could hear her, and so could cats, but mostly she attracted curious bats and owls—and Hogwarts had a lot of them.

George had been utterly mortified, as no previous test he had performed on the candy had produced results anything like that. He had even sent his notes to Professor Snape to beg him to find where the fault had been to help her.

Snape, however, had written him back with about twenty feet of parchment detailing that whatever he had put in the candy wasn't what was in the notes. The candy did not have the consistency or the feel of the formula, and George had trusted Snape's judgement on that. All tests on that product had ceased because George didn't want to risk something even worse coming out of it. Without Fred there to watch over the brewing with him, coming up with new products Something had been added—exactly what he wasn't sure—and it had begun some sort of bizarre transfigurative process on her vocal cords.

Unfortunately for her, there was no cure in sight.

Fortunately for her, her magic still responded to her highly pitched voice whenever she performed a spell. She just had to get used to waking up with snuggly bats on her pillow and owls stopping in for morning and afternoon tea and a few frog legs. Thankfully, she wasn't teaching. She could only imagine just how badly that would go. Snape managed to teach and remain intimidating (if not more so) without a voice. She had to admire that.

Hermione made a gesture with her hands to ask him to lay down, and he did, closing his eyes as she placed her warm hands on his neck.

Their sessions occurred every day. Each time she would care for his wound and then carefully draw a bit of the venom out of his tissues, slowly as to not torment his already abused nerves. After about a half hour, she removed her hands and wiped away the gathered droplets of unhealthy green-yellow venom that had risen up to pool on his pale but healthy skin. She put the salve on the wound and covered it with an antiseptic honey dressing before placing a layer of softer gauze on top so that none of the salve would stain his woolen robes.

As her hands left his skin, he would open his eyes, his black irises shimmering with some hidden emotion. Every day, his wound sealed a little more, invisible to the untrained eye but obvious to her and Madam Pomfrey.

Poppy told her that if it wasn't helping him, he wouldn't keep returning. She had no reason to think otherwise. But sometimes—sometimes—she wondered if she was truly seeing another side to the private man.

He seemed so different from how he had been as her teacher. He was solemn but not overbearing. He carried an aura of sadness that hung about him like his robes. Yet, despite the many times she had been forced to share his company, he hadn't once snapped at her as he had in the past. When she had been desperately trying to use her voice only to have no one hear her, he had given her such a look—pity?

Or was it something else?

"You're transferring emotions, Hermione," she admonished herself. "There is no way he's growing soft on someone who was the bane of his classes for far too many years."

And why do you even care? her inner voice demanded.

Hermione flushed. "No reason," she said, fighting back the instinct to bite her own lip.

She made sure the dressing was securely in place once more and ran one more scan over his body. She nodded at him, a smile tugging at her lips to tell him he was fine. He stood, the rustling of fabric causing the soft scent of fresh-cut herbs to waft from his robes.

"Take care of yourself, Professor," she said, immediately feeling regretful as it came out as a bunch of barely discernible squeaks.

Snape turned, his black eyes suddenly meeting hers. His mouth worked for a moment, and then he winced. His dark brows knit together, and his hand alighted over hers for just a fraction of a moment.

Hermione felt a strong tug like that of a magnet as her legs grew wobbly. Her normal healing shields were no longer engaged, having already ended the session, but the strength of the pull was unlike anything she had ever felt before.

For a fraction of a second, Snape's eyes were very wide, his pupils dilated as he seemed to take in a great breath in slow motion.

She smelled summer blackberries and fresh cream mixed with night-blooming flowers.

Gods, she wanted to roll in it. He was so close, so wonderfully close, and she wanted to fly and feel his closeness in the chase—

What the hell, Hermione?!

He seemed to think the same thing as he turned abruptly and swept from the infirmary in a blur of black wool, startling the nearby owls that had perched along the open window ledge.

Hermione smacked her forehead with her palm. You don't even like to fly. What is wrong with you?

Yet, the heat of his nearness triggered something visceral inside her body and caused her heart to race and her breath to catch in her lungs.

The healer part of her was screaming exactly what that meant physiologically.

No way. No way. No possible way.

Hermione shuddered, holding her chest with her arms. I am not attracted to Severus Snape!

The Hallow's Eve Party was doubling as a post-war celebration, and the Great Hall was filled with black and orange garlands, glowing jack-o-lanterns, and colourful candies, iced biscuits and cakes. The spiced pumpkin juice had been set aglow with charms, and the distinctive WWW logo showed that George's promotional gifts had made their way to Hogwarts yet again. The latest generation used any opportunity to celebrate the absence of war, and no one really blamed them.

Minerva tolerated it because George seemed determined to bring smiles to the aftermath of the war. The students still bore terrible emotional scars from the war, and the reconstruction of Hogwarts had been quite a significant feat. There were still places that were being rebuilt and were off limits to students—scars of the Battle of Hogwarts and so much more.

Hermione chuckled as a spiralling streamer headed for the Head Table, and Filius zapped it with his magic to keep it from hitting Minerva in the head.

The streamer burst into a shimmering cloud, mirroring so many others that were showering around the Great Hall. People were laughing, having worn their costumes all day in their enthusiasm for the holiday.

The elves had brought in enormous trays of specially prepared party foods in honour of the celebration, and Hermione had to remind herself that the elves wanted to serve. It was another place to free them all—here, most of all, where her attempts had sent the elves into a panic so strong that Minerva had pleaded with her not to forward her S.P.E.W. agenda at Hogwarts. The elves had been hiding in her office, trembling, crying, and beating themselves all because of Hermione's attempts to free them.

Hermione just couldn't understand why any creature would prefer slavery to freedom. Couldn't they understand she was just trying to help them? Dobby would have appreciated it; why couldn't they?

She respected Minerva too much to go against her wishes, but she couldn't help but want to stomp her feet and have a temper tantrum over it in sheer frustration. All she wanted was for them to be treated fairly, have time off, wear real clothes instead of tea cozies. Why did everyone laugh at her for that?

Hermione winced, feeling an odd churning in her stomach.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Poppy asked. Then, she too frowned, touching her stomach. "How very odd…"

Shared looks of confusion spread across the Head Table, but it did not stay there. The entire Great Hall seemed to be suffering from a similar malady.

FMFMFMFPH!

A wave of magic rushed over the entire hall, and the entire room was transformed into giant humanoid bats of various appearances. Alcathoe's bats, Bechstein's bats, brown long-eared bats, Daubenton's bats, great mouse-eared bats, grey long-eared bats, flying foxes and many, many more filled the Great Hall.

Minerva, standing as a silvery Noctule bat, looked like she was preparing for the screaming and terror-stricken children.

"COOOOOOOL!" the various children cried, laughing. "Best costumes EVER!"

Filius, who was eating a fig with gusto, getting pulp all over his mousy brown muzzle, squeaked. "Well, this is new and different."

"Severus, you're looking quite natural there," Rolanda Hooch said, itching her ear with one wing. "I can't wait to test these wings out. I think we should have a special evening event on the green. Maybe we can even have a Quidditch match without brooms."

Severus, suddenly realising that he and Hermione were the only two humanoid megabats in the the entire school, couldn't help noticing the enticing scent of—

Her.

Damn it all. Where was all of that occlumency?

Somehow it was failing him, and his emotions were surfacing.

His wing thumb touched his neck, massaging the wound that never quite healed.

Now, this was ironic. His greatest secret—the great Prince family secret—was exposed for all to see, but no one noticed because everyone in Hogwarts was now masquerading as a bat.

Severus rubbed his neck again, but the familiar flare of pain did not happen.

What?

He rubbed his neck again.

The pain was gone?

"Are you alright, Professor?"

Hermione's voice broke through his musings, only for him to look at her in wonder. He'd never told her before, but he could understand her. She spoke his language, after all. Somehow the strange candy she had eaten had made it so.

He'd spent weeks trying to figure out what had gone into it, but whatever it had been had a short half-life. By the time he had gotten to it, whatever active compound that was in it had already disappeared.

Hermione was looking at him with concern. "Do you need me to look at your wound?"

"It's fine—" he said, eyes widening as he could, in fact, speak.

"I guess we can all speak bat tonight," Hermione said, her expression sorrowful. "When it wears off—"

"I could always understand you," Snape said, his voice seeming low even when translated to bat.

Hermione's eyes widened at the sound of his voice, having not heard his voice since her school days—

Before the war.

Before her voice had been stolen away.

"Oh gods, you heard everything I said?"

"I know you can't hear me, but I wanted you to know how much I appreciated what you did—even if you didn't do it for everyone or even yourself." Hermione had her hands over his wound wincing as the venom seeped through her fingers but willing to tolerate it for his sake—his pain was far worse. It was burning him daily, trying to eat him alive.

She willed her magic into the wound, demanding that create the barrier to keep the venom from spreading to the rest of his body.

The pain was beyond anything she'd ever felt, and she'd been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. It was a constant, burning, tearing, seething pain.

She forced her hands over the wound, remembering all the things she had done while under Bellatrix' "care" to hide herself from the pain. She shunted away the pain away from her patient, converting it into raw magic that she used in turn to amplify the effectiveness of her magic through her suffering.

What Poppy didn't know was that Hermione was no stranger to pain. She never sought it out, but it seemed to unerringly find her. She wondered if it was common to take in the pain of her patients and use it to power their healing—turning suffering into power but not to harm.

It wasn't exactly a talent anyone would sign up for. To use pain, she had to experience their pain. To ease pain, she had to share it and turn it into something better.

Back in her schooling days, she hadn't realised that the daily torment she experienced courtesy of Draco and even Ron's usual spiteful, mean-spirited harassment had fueled her burgeoning power. Lavender and Parvati's heckling and teasing of her hair and her admittedly obsessive study habits had made suffering a familiar, if unwelcome, friend.

Even Snape's sniping at her youthful personal failings had fueled her, her classmate's ridicule that she was such a failure at flying, and so many of her classmates' hatred for her hand-waving and desire to do well in all of her classes; all of it had unknowingly make her stronger.

Yet, she hadn't known it—and it wasn't until Bellatrix had inflicted the Cruciatus upon her tortured body and mind that she had consciously used the power she had been using for years. It was pure irony that despite her use of it to heal others, she couldn't manage to heal her own cursed wound.

Snape opened his eyes as she took her hands away from his throat. He stared at her red hands—evidence of where the venom had tried to attack her in proxy of him. His brows furrowed as his hand covered hers.

A strange warmth passed between them, flowing across his skin and into her. The venomous inflammation eased as her magic flared and absorbed the energy to heal itself.

Snape's mouth worked, but no sound came forth. He winced, his hand instinctively moving to cover his exposed neck with his collar.

Hermione stormed into the infirmary as she fought back tears of fury. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she raged. "I may not be able to be heard, but I am not an idiot! I can smell. I can see. How could I have even thought—why would I have—IDIOT! I am an idiot. I am so—STUPID!"

She came to a halt in front of Professor Snape, who was silently waiting for his treatment in the infirmary.

"I'm so glad he can't hear a word I say right now…"

"I know you can't hear me, but you're one of the few sane people left in my world," Hermione said. "Harry is convinced he needs to repopulate the world by merging his genetics with all things Weasley. Ronald thinks that because he has a penis it gives him the right to stick it in any hole that fits all the while expecting me to wait for him to settle down, get married, and have some kids. That's what people should do after a war. Why don't you understand, 'Mione? You kissed me. You know you liked it. EEUGHHHH!"

Snape's eyes opened as the glow around his neck had intensified, and the jagged edges of Nagini's fangs started to heal as a steady stream of venom burned Hermione's hands.

"TSSSS," she hissed, pulling her hands away as she blotted the venom away quickly. She tossed the smoking gauze on the metal tray and held her hands with a wince.

Snape's hand touched hers, his brows furrowed just enough to convey what words could not.

Hermione's eyes widened as the surge of warmth triggered her healing magic, and her hands healed faster than she'd ever seen before.

She stared into his black eyes. "Thank you, Professor."

Snape scowled at her, his mouth working, but no sound coming from his throat. Abruptly, he stood up and swept the room, his robes billowing behind in his wake.

Hermione rubbed her palms together and stared after him, confused that the warmth she felt from the man who had not a kind word for her before caused such a warmth that kindled not in her hands but in her heart.

"At least you're healing more each time," Hermione said, wincing as the venom did its best to destroy her, starting with her fingertips.

She found herself staring deep into Professor Snape's eyes—so dark and fathomless—and his hand covered hers as the broken skin and envenomated tissue healed with their combined energy.

She looked at him with wonder. A relief so profound washed over her, and she sighed with release as the pain dissipated.

"Thank you, Sir." She looked down.

Snape tilted her head up to face him, shaking his head at her.

"Severus," he mouthed, silent.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. She's known his first name, but never in her life dared to say it. "Severus," she said. She frowned. "Not that you can actually hear me. I like to imagine you can—maybe that you might not find my words so offensive as you did when I was your student."

Hermione ran a scan over him, nodding when it came back without complication.

She gestured to a parchment, and writing flowed across it, "Your wounds are healing well, Severus. In a few more months, you should be back to your best. I'm sorry it has to take so long. Nagini's venom is particularly tenacious."

Snape waved his hand, dismissing her apology. He waved his hand over the parchment, and his distinctive spidery script flowed over it. "Your efforts are greatly appreciated. What time it takes is what time it takes. Apologies are a waste of time and energy in these circumstances."

Hermione gave him a small smile as he stalked away, his robes giving their best impression of a dark storm cloud in his wake.

"Oh come on, 'Mione!" Ron blurted. "You can bloody well quit it with this entire talking farce to avoid answering me. Your apprenticeship is over now, so you can't hide behind old Pomfrey anymore.

"What?!" Hermione screeched, but Ron didn't hear her.

"Marriage is a natural progression," Ron said. "Mum even has the perfect place picked out. We can get married this weekend. I'll invite a bunch of mates from the DMLE."

Hermione spun, her mouth working. "NO, Ronald! I am NOT getting married to you! Marriage is not for us, and it stopped being about us when you slept with Lavender Brown and Romilda Vane on OUR bed!"

Ron stared at her. "You're still determined to pretend that you can't speak?"

Hermione's face was red with fury as she got right up into his face, her wild curls rising up, like cobras preparing to strike.

Ron misunderstood her gesture as a sign of attraction and kissed her.

Hermione leaped back with great alacrity and slapped him as hard as she could.

Ron's face was blotchy red with anger. "You can't spend your life with your nose always stuck in a book, 'Mione. I'm willing to give you a chance. It's not like any other bloke would bother with you, yeah? Marry me and you can have a bunch of kids instead becoming a barmy old spinster with fifty ruddy Kneazles."

"Why you arrogant self-righteous BASTARD!" Hermione screeched furiously. "You seriously think that insulting me is going to get me to change my mind? I am not some dim and dull-witted criminal behind one of your interrogation tables!" She whirled and stormed off, her robes fluttering behind her as she fled up the path towards Hogwarts.

"Don't you DARE run from me, 'Mione!" Ron pulled out his wand and then let out a yelp as a sinewy hand crushed his wrist and a thumb dug hard into his nerve cluster. His wand tumbled from his injured hand into the Hogsmeade fountain as the tall and formidable figure of Severus Snape scowled down at him. He said not a word as as he flung Ron away from him, sending him arse over teakettle flat onto his arse and then completely supine. Ron coughed as the dust cloud covered him, and he struggled to sit up straight.

Ron's face twisted, his expression growing ugly with some sudden epiphany. "Bloody Snape. Trying to play the white knight? Maybe you're hoping she'll spread her legs for you because no one else will have her, huh? Oh wait. You're too shriveled up pining after my best mate's dead mother!"

Ron's head jerked to the side as Hermione's wand stuck right into jugular; vines grew and rose up from the ground to bind him tightly.

"I'm done with you, Ronald. I choose now to sever the bond between us. I will make excuses for you no more. I will aid you no more. I will break bread with you no more. You are my friend no more. As magic as my witness, whatever we may once have shared is forever sundered."

Ron, though unable to hear her words, was unable to ignore their effects. His body shook as the bond of their friendship and trials of adversity and war broke and released their combined magic and cauterised.

Ron passed out, and the magical vines finally released him. Hermione slumped as the effect of the sundering exhausted her.

Snape caught her in his arms and pulled her up, carrying her back to the warmth and comfort of Hogwarts.

Hermione awoke to find Snape watching her from the chair near her bedside. "Professor?"

Snape gave her a look.

Thinking he had read her lips, she gave him an apologetic smile. "Severus? What happened?"

Snape curled his lip and gestured to the enchanted parchment, and a stick figure with bright flaming hair confronted a tall bat-like figure. Then, a frizzy-haired stick figure came up, pointed a wand at the red-haired stick figure, and vines sprouted from the ground and held him until a word bubble popped up from the frizzy-haired witch figure, who was sundering the bond between her and the redhead with the words, "Fuck off, dickhead. So mote it be!"

The redhead fell backwards as the frizzy stick witch sagged, and the giant bat carried her off to a crudely drawn Hogwarts with an equally crudely drawn cat perched upon the ramparts, meowing annoyingly.

Hermione burst out laughing. "Is that Minerva?"

Snape gave her a look.

"Sorry, I must seem like such an idiot, squeaking at you when you can't understand me."

Snape, as always, said nothing.

"Wait, how did you know what I said?" She pointed to the parchment.

Snape pointed to his lips, arching a brow at her.

"Oh—right. Sorry. I just. I was hoping that maybe it had finally worn off."

His eyebrows—how had she never noticed how expressive they were? —admonished her to pay better attention.

He gestured to the parchment, and his handwriting appeared. "I can count on one hand the number of people who know the Rite of Sundering."

Hermione gestured to the enchanted parchment. "I once was very interested in the Old Ways—to try and figure out why purebloods hate people like me so much."

Severus' lips pressed together.

His hand touched hers, and she winced. Her knuckles were still raw and bruised from where she had socked the weasel in the face.

"That's so odd," she whispered. "I thought I slapped him, but I guess—I must have punched him. I'm really glad you can't hear me right now."

Snape's fingers ran over her hand with a soft brush. The cooler tips of his fingers warmed, and her magic responded. Her abrasions closed in a rush of healing.

She stared at him, a look of wonder that he would willing touch her voluntarily in every curve of her face. Her hand raised to touch his face as a trickle and weave of their combined magic sang between them.

He shuddered at her touch, his eyes fluttering as his mouth parted ever so slightly.

"Oh, you're awake!" Poppy's voice rang out as her footsteps alerted them to her approach. "I'll be right there to check up on you!"

Snape stiffened, standing immediately. With a shocked glance at her, he whirled, leaving her confused and bereft.

Hermione barely noticed Madam Pomfrey fussing over her as she wrestled to understand what had just happened.

Hermione stared up to the bestial face of Severus Snape, taking in the glint of yellowed fangs and his elegant funnelled ears. The chatter of those around them was a cacophony of surprise and glee—the children discovering en masse that the unexpected lifelike costume had great benefits, such as dangling from the enchanted ceiling. Argus, who had turned into a Barbastelle bat, chased after a certain feline-looking bat as she pursued moths at high speed.

The staff at the High Table continued to eat and moderate altercations depending on the situation.

"I haven't felt this young in years," Minerva said, stretching out her silver-tabby-patterned fur-covered wings.

"Of all the Halloween tricks, this one does seem to take the cake," Pomona said, itching one pointed and crinkly ear and wincing slightly as the sound of the action was a little louder than she was expecting. "Oddly, I feel quite good about it."

"Right?" Rolanda said. "I'm itching to go for a good fly."

Filius, now an adorably roundish bat-creature, used his wing thumb to clutch a candied apple and chew into it. Juice spurted out from the crisp apple underneath and hit Hagrid in the eyes.

Hagrid had sprouted a lot of shaggy brown fur—arguable not as noticeable to those used to his hairy self to begin with—and his nails had grown a bit long. Strangely, he had no wings or other batlike characteristics—save for how much fruit he was shovelling into his mouth.

"I'm liking this," Vector said. "All my aches and pains are gone." She yawned, showing all of her sharp and pointy teeth. "I feel like I'm fresh out of Hogwarts again."

The chiropteral Professors at the Head Table chuckled as the children ate their meals upside-down while clinging to the rafters above their House tables.

"Best Halloween ever!"

"I hope it never ends!"

"Me too!"

"Father is going to have a Kneazle!"

"So?"

"Right!"

"We still have hands too!"

"Not that it's helping Roger any."

The group of batlings turned their heads to stare at one particular specimen, who wore a rather derpy expression as he vainly attempted to shovel rainbow-coloured jelly cubes into his maw with his wings.

The other batlings shook their heads at him.

"Roger, you're a right mess!"

"Ew, nasty."

"I'm moving over to to a different rafter."

The batlings all moved away, leaving Roger dripping jelly as he clung forlornly to his now-abandoned rafter.

A smaller batling landed nearby, her soft golden blonde fur shimmering as she chewed on a pear and cinnamon digestive biscuit. She shyly broke the biscuit in half and shared it, extending it to Roger.

Roger's eyes went wide and he lost his grip on the rafter, tumbling down into a giant watermelon half-filled with a multitude of multicoloured melon balls.

The smaller blonde batling squeaked in alarm, almost losing her grip on her prized biscuit.

Roger popped his head out of the pile of melon balls with a pomegranate clutched between his jaws, squeaking invitingly to her. Her eyes widened and she landed nearby, timidly exchanging pomegranate seeds for biscuit. The two batlings ate together surrounded in melon balls, even as other batlings dove in to snatch up melon balls by mouthful and then retreat back to the rafters to eat them.

Severus and Hermione, oblivious to the goings on around them, stared intently at each other, almost touching but painfully unable to.

"Miss Granger," he whispered, barely discernible in the chatter of excited batlings.

Hermione's ears twitched. "It's Hermione."

Snape swallowed hard. "Hermione." His voice was ragged, tortured.

"Must we pretend we mean nothing to each other? I don't understand," she replied sadly.

"I'm old."

"You have a pulse."

Snape's ears plastered to the side of his head. "You're young."

"Older than I look," she said. "War ages you. Torture ages you. Time turners all the more."

"I'm a giant bat."

"I'm also a giant bat, slightly less giant than you," she argued. "But I can work on billowing impressively in my spare time if you like."

Snape's bat brows knit together. "No, I mean—bloody hell—I mean I am a giant bat."

"Well, obviously," Hermione replied.

Snape's muzzle twisted in a grimace. "I mean, this is a genetic possibility for the line of Prince. My mother's bloodline."

"There are certainly worse things you could be."

Snape blinked.

"You could be genetically predisposed to flaming ginger hair and an unfortunate tendency to possess more freckles than brain cells."

Snape's complexion somehow managed to pale even under a thick coat of glossy black fur. "Gods, woman, I'd fly into a jet engine purely out of principle."

Hermione grinned, showing her dainty pointed teeth. "I want to fly with you. Now—and not into a jet engine. I'd prefer to start over the lake or the forest."

A tiny, almost imperceptible shiver travelled down Snape's spine. "You can't possibly mean that." Snape's eyes widened. "And that could, I mean—If something were to happen—Merlin's shrivelled bollocks—you could end up just like me."

Hermione used her wing thumb to itch her eye, rubbing it carefully. "Okay."

"Okay." A beat. "What do you mean okay?" Severus stared.

"I mean, okay." Hermione looked at him. "If I have to be a bat for us to get past awkward touching and move on to moonlit flights and rafter cuddles, then I'm quite willing to take the leap."

Severus made incoherent sounds of complete disbelief.

A cloud of batlings passed them by, streaking out of the Great Hall, wings flapping, bodies wobbling, and determination written across every face.

Minerva wrapped Severus and Hermione in her silvery wings. "Why don't you two go and make sure those batlings don't get themselves treed or lost out in the Forbidden Forest." She pulled Severus just a bit closer. "Don't go sabotaging this boy."

Severus frowned, but Hermione was already testing out her wings and took off after the excited batlings. He looked back at Minerva, his face wrinkled with anguish.

"Go, Severus," Minerva said with a stern look.

Severus spread his wings and launched into the air in a flurry of wingbeats. He tore after the surprisingly swift flyer like Fiendfyre was chasing him.

The batlings in the rafters shivered together in a huddle as he passed, intimidated.

"He's so scary!"

"So scary!"

"More scary than before!"

"Eeee."

"Hug me."

"Is he gone?"

Minerva sighed, shaking her head. Kids, batlings—species never mattered when the young were concerned.

"What do you mean this is permanent?" Minerva questioned, her ears standing straight up as the fur on her neck rose.

The Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries, dressed from head-to-toe in a completely concealing white robe and hood, hissed a response. Their voice, like everything else about them, was concealed.

Amelia Bones put a hand on the Unspeakable's shoulder. "It's alright, Raymond. You may dismiss the uniform here with Minerva."

The Unspeakable touched a gem on the cloak clasp and uncovered his head, and the wizard bowed slightly to Minerva. "It was a charm combined with some sort of potion with a catalyst," Raymond said. "It was Dark magic, Headmistress."

"Whut? Here at Hogwarts?" Ron blurted. He looked up to where he was fiddling with the old Headmaster's globe with his finger.

"It's not typical Dark magic, Auror Weasley," Raymond said, frowning. "I can see the original charm as detailed by the proprietor of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes and the secondary potion matrix that was released, but there was something else added to the mix that reacted badly to the bonding agent. All those who were exposed to it were transformed due to that added agent, but the change in formula made it super effective—like dragonpox. Everyone exposed was transformed—Mr Hagrid's unique mix of giant and human seems to have made him half-immune much like he is to other magic."

The Unspeakable looked to Snape, slightly intimidated by the tall, brooding man-bat, who had the glowering scowl down to a science. "The unknown agent was a mixture of bat fur and blood. The trace says it was your blood, Professor Snape."

"I knew you weren't to be trusted!" Ron yelled, pulling out his wand.

"Whoa, now," Amelia said. "I outrank you, Auror Weasley, and this is my investigation. Put that wand away immediately!"

"But—"

Amelia narrowed her eyes at him, and Ron put his wand away.

"Professor Snape," she addressed. "Have you at any time put your blood into a potion?"

Snape eyed Weasley with a darker expression than usual. "Not since I was sixteen and Black used a cutting hex to trim my hair for me."

"He's lying!"

"Auror Weasley, if you cannot keep your mouth shut during this inquiry, I will have you replaced."

Ron turned red and faced in the other direction.

Snape took out his wand, his pale fingers curling around the length of black ebony wood. "I swear upon my life and my magic that at no time did I ever put my blood into anything I was brewing intentionally, nor did I sanction the use of my blood in the creation of any potion, hex, spell, charm, or any other form of magic. This I do solemnly swear."

The end of his wand flashed a brilliantly bright white.

"Well. that settles that," Amelia said. "Thank you, Severus."

Severus grunted lowly in response, eloquent as ever.

"Do you have any idea who may have gotten or been able to procure some of your blood, Severus?" Minerva asked.

There was a flutter as Hermione appeared on Minerva's open balcony. She folded her wings and brought in a scroll. "I have retrieved the sworn and sealed formulas from George Weasley for the official record," she said. "Auror Potter has also completed a detailed scan of the brewing area and the traces found within. He regrets he cannot be here in person as there was an altercation in the joke shop. A patron turned someone into a wooly mammoth and some unknown potions mixed together and turned half the patrons into coatis. Fortunately, that part was temporary, but they are still suffering from vertigo."

Amelia took the scroll and nodded. She broke the seal, read the report, and shook her head as she rubbed one temple with her fingers. "It seems that the only people who have accessed the brewing area are members of the Weasley family. Could it have been tampered with post-brewing, Severus?"

"That would have rendered the effects extremely unstable."

"Unstable, such as transforming an entire school into anthropomorphic bats?"

"There is that," Severus noted. "However, since none of the mutations seem to have progressed beyond a variance in the species of bat, it seems to indicate a brewing-phase addition."

"Is there a way to trace who did the addition?" Amelia asked.

"Brewers usually leave a distinctive signature in the creations they make, but it can be masked by other elements or diluted in the case of inexperienced brewers or people who did not brew the entire potion."

Raymond nodded. "I have confirmed the main brewer as George Weasley," he said. "But he has sworn and signed that he did not stray from his original formula."

"And the effects of the original formula?" Amelia asked, her mind swirling with too much information.

"Temporary random metamorphosis lasting 24 hours, temporary youth enhancement for those over school age, and temporary language enhancement to allow the use of spoken word regardless of target species."

"Severus, not that I don't trust Raymond, but can we get a confirmation from you on the altered effects of this potion just so I can sign off and make this a thrice-confirmed disaster?"

Snape nodded. "As you wish. For a modest extra fee, I can probably pen you in before St Stephen's Day."

Minerva glowered at Severus, and he responded with a daring eyebrow.

Amelia, ignoring Snape's comment on scheduling entirely, said, "Hermione, if you could please work with him to see if we can develop a counter antidote. I know the chances are low thanks to the blood factor, but no one wants to tell Draco Malfoy that his son will be a batling forever, no matter how excited Scorpius is about it."

Hermione's eyebrow arched. "I have no problem collaborating."

"It's a good thing the children are practically ecstatic to be bats. I caught the young witches in study hall exchanging tips on fur care and flight-resistant fur-styles," Minerva said, rubbing her temples.

"At least they can't fall off a broom and hurt themselves in Quidditch, Minerva," Hermione suggested.

"Rolanda has already tweaked flying lessons and Quidditch rules to accommodate our rather unique circumstances," Minerva said. "She's like a witch of twenty again."

"Well, technically—" Raymond said.

Minerva laughed. "All of us old people are young people, but we also look like bats, so who can really really tell that we've been deaged?"

"Sleeker fur and faster reflexes to keep up with quick and nimble batlings?" Amelia offered.

Minerva snorted. "I suppose." She frowned. "I am more concerned as to whether the enchantment is permanently embedded into the Great Hall."

"Have the house-elves shown any signs of taking flight?" Amelia asked.

"No, they seem immune," Minerva said. "Short of Mrs Norris, it seems to be limited to humans."

"Mrs Norris has been here since George was at Hogwarts," Severus said. "He would have remembered that and included her on the fun."

Amelia's eyes widened. "That's true. It's clear he was very specific to craft a trick that would be temporary and inclusive. So—why bats? I mean it could have been anything."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "I believe it was intentional, as my lovely moniker - not of my choosing - is the local dungeon bat."

"Wait, this was a personal attack?"

"I believe so," Snape said. "I do not think they realised adding my blood and the bat fur would affect everyone. They may have thought it would target me specifically. There are potions that work that way—but whoever did it had no concept of the risk of interaction with George Weasley's original formulae."

Ron snorted. "There are more people that know about potions than you, Snape."

Amelia turned to him. "Auror Weasley, is there something you'd like to share with us?"

Ron pulled back. "No." He scowled. "Shouldn't someone go and monitor him while he's doing that analysis? To make sure there is no funny business!"

Minerva scowled next. "Mr Weasley, Professor Snape is a trusted member of this school's faculty. I will not have him treated like some errant criminal."

Ron's face reddened. "He's a bloody criminal," he muttered under his breath.

"It is fine, Headmaster," Snape rumbled. "If he wishes to watch, he may watch, provided he remembers how to keep his hands to himself."

Not waiting for a response, Snape gestured to Hermione. "After you, Healer Granger."

Hermione yawned and stretched, showing all her pristinely white fangs. "Okay." She walked out onto the balcony and launched off it, catching an updraft as her wings snapped open and carried her off. Snape followed, his wings spreading like a black curtain of leathery membrane as he, too, disappeared into the sky.

"How am I supposed to follow that?" Ron blurted.

"Are you a wizard or are you not, Auror Weasley?" Amelia asked. "Surely you haven't forgotten how to use a broom."

"Alright, batlings," Hermione said, clapping her wings. Clean up your projects. Potions study is over for today."

"Awwww," the batlings pouted, clinging to the perch over the desk.

"Save any completed potions and place them carefully on Professor Snape's desk."

The batlings chittered, working together and made a tolerable effort at ensuring the projects were gently placed on Snape's desk.

"Goodnight, Healer Granger."

"Goodnight!"

"Do you think they'll have watermelon for dinner?"

"What about figs?"

"I love figs."

"I could do for a bowl of grasshoppers."

The fruitivores all stared at the odd-batling-out. "Ew."

The batlings gathered their things, secured their bookstraps, and flew out, squeaking happily.

Snape sighed as he came in, brushing off the place where Trelawney's groping hands has ruffled his robes. "I swear that woman needs to be cuffed to her desk."

"She'd probably like that."

"You'd think being a giant bat would stop her, but she's as blind as ever," Snape said with a sneer.

"I'm glad she's not a bat," Hermione said with a shudder. "Stuff of nightmares. She'd be flying into everything, and then I'd have to put her back together."

"Not if she flew into something hard enough and broke her skinny neck," Severus said dryly.

"Severus!"

Snape's answering smile showed all of his fangs.

"As a healer, I object."

"Object all you wish, my dear. Even you have to admit you have wasted more sobriety and detoxification potions on her than ever there were contraceptive potions trying to sneak themselves out of the infirmary."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "The Wizengamot is still out as to whether her teaching is better or worse when sober."

Snape's muzzle wrinkled with disgust. "Much of the magical world's woes could have been prevented easily enough if she'd just stumbled and tripped onto the Hogwarts Express tracks on the day she was to be interviewed in Hogsmeade."

Hermione gave him a look.

Snape raised a brow at her. "She's probably off rummaging in the kitchens for any leftover cooking sherry."

"Should I assist you with the analysis or just drop everything and go retrieve the alcohol nullifying potion right now?"

Snape snorted. "Just help me figure out if we can develop a cure to counter this perfect storm."

"You don't like the flood of highly attentive potions students that happen to pay attention now that they are batlings?"

Snape frowned. "I do rather like that side-effect."

Hermione chuckled.

"If you could please put your blood into this mixture and we can analyze if the changes can be reversed? Mine won't work since it was the catalyst."

Hermione nodded, using her wand to nick her finger she let a few drops flow into the cauldron. "For the record, I'm rather fond of this new form."

Snape frowned. "You prefer being winged and furred in a magical world that is about as xenophobic as it has ever been in the history of the Wizarding World?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm rather happy with how well the children have taken it all. They seem to have found more things in common now than ever before."

Snape tilted his head. "Is that your only reason?" His wand wove an intricate trace over the cauldron. He extended his wing thumb, and she reached to hook hers with his, adding her own magic to the weave of his trace.

For untold minutes they stood together silently, barely even moving. The tendril of the trace moved in and out of the cauldron. The tendril started for form into a mist, slowly becoming a shape of two heads—the brewing contributors.

The head of George Weasley formed in the mist, but the other head was more elusive. They used their combined magic to coax more clarity into the secondary trace, but a blood-curdling scream jolted them both out of the tracing trance as the combined bodies of Ronald Weasley and Sybill Trelawney landed in the cauldron with a sploosh.

"I'm melting! MELTING!" Sybill screeched as her body smoked.

"Get the hell away from me!" Ron yelled, attempting to shove Trelawney off him.

Their bodies thrashed and smoked violently, twisting as their shapes condensed into the forms of—

Severus and Hermione stared into the cauldron with disbelief.

"What in the unholy knickers of Hecate—" Severus cursed.

Hermione's eyes widened. "That's, er… some libido."

Severus sighed, sending his Patronus to Minerva. "No one is going to believe us until we give them our memories."

Hermione continued to watch, utterly horrified but unable to pry her gaze away. "Help, I can't stop looking!"

Snape turned her head around and swiftly dropped his mouth over hers in a passionate kiss.

Mffffph!

Hermione wrapped her wing around him as they explored the grandeur of the newly discovered bat kiss.

Professor Sybill Trelawney and Auror Ronald Weasley Missing

Divination teacher, Sybill Patricia Trelawney and Auror Ronald Bilius Weasley have been missing since the investigation into the strange transformation that affected the majority of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—a transformation that turned teachers, staff, and students alike into anthropomorphic bat-creatures.

Extensive traces lead to the discovery that Ronald Weasley tampered with the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products bound for Hogwarts for the annual Halloween celebration in a jealous attempt to sabotage fellow war hero Severus Snape. His addition of bat hair in combination with blood from Mr Snape (most likely an attempt to target him specifically) instead turned the potion into a powerful transformative agent that, at least as of this writing, appears to be irreversible. Documents discovered in Mr Ronald Weasley's residence detailed a twisted tale of spurned marriage proposals, bitter jealousy, and an attempt to make his romantic rival unattractive to the witch in question.

Unknownst to him, however, the combination of blood and fur with the ingredients of the temporary transformative potions developed by George Weasley's business, caused a dire, seemingly permanent mutation.

WWW proprietor George Fabian Weasley, who has willingly turned over all pertinent formulae and his memories of brewing the Halloween potions, has been cleared of any potential charges of neglect or wrongdoing.

His younger brother, Auror Ronald Weasley, is wanted as a person of interest in the ongoing investigation of this most distressing incident.

The children of Hogwarts, most surprisingly, seem to be united together in solidarity to remain batlings. Grades have never been higher. Quidditch, modified to accommodate true flight, has undergone a great revival. Fights in the school have trickled down to almost nothing.

Parents, however, seem rather torn about just how to handle their children's transformations. Mr Draco Malfoy of Wiltshire has banded together with a number of other prominent magical families to hire a private team of hit wizards to search for Mr Ronald Weasley and bring him before the Wizengamot to either clear him of involvement or destroy him utterly for the heinous act of permanently transforming their beloved children into batlings.

Investigations as to whether the trigger for transformations lingers in the Great Hall where the initial changes took place is still ongoing, but so far no other forced transformations have occured.

A bottle that resembled cooking sherry turned up in the hallway where signs of some sort of physical altercation too place. A torn piece of brown fabric that resembles the Auror coats was found nearby. Two wands, both confirmed by Mr Ollivander as being Sybill Trelawney and Ronald Weasley's, were found abandoned in the hallway.

All traces to find Ms Trelawney and Mr Weasley have led baffled investigators to depths of Black Lake outside of Hogwarts, where a strange population of red king crabs have appeared and flourished.

"At least we have crab for dinner," one tracker said. "A lot of crab."

Since most of Hogwarts has gone the way of the frugivore and insectivore, the vast population of crustaceans have gone to feed the merfolk and centaurs as well as those lucky enough to dine at the newly revamped Three Broomsticks. A few of Hogwarts newest bats have taken to the crabs as "just another large, ugly, but very tasty water bug."

The quantity and quality of the shellfish seem to proclaim only one thing: crab is what's for dinner.

The giant squid appears to be taking the gift of rapidly-reproducing crabs as manna from heaven.

The Three Broomsticks is offering a coupon to try their newest menu items: drunken crab legs, crab cakes with lemon-dill Sauce, and a positively delectable creamy crab bisque.

Madam Malkins Introduces New Bat-Wing Cloaks

Madam Malkin's has released the first round of enchanted bat-wing cloaks inspired by the batlings of Hogwarts to allow the latest students to safely follow their bat-fellows both on and off the Quidditch pitch.

Working carefully with the staff of Hogwarts, Madam Malkin's strived to make a cloak not only to allow new students to keep up with their peers but also as a safety issue. Safety features include a a speed limiting factor, strong silk construction, and speed dampening when a fall is detected.

The cloaks have been been imbued with a protective enchantment that prevents use outside of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade to prevent any mischief by minors in Muggle areas.

Trials of the cloaks will begin this upcoming term. Headmistress McGonagall has stated that the cloaks are not mandatory parts of the uniform, but the safety and utility may be well worth a good look the next time you shop at Madam Malkins.

The enchantments are fully functional at Madam Malkins for those who wish to try before purchasing.

Other schools, having been attracted to the safety enhancements, are considering ordering them for their Quidditch teams. Many are eager to have the results of the trial.

Harry leaned back in a secluded corner booth as he watched the hustle and bustle of the Three Broomsticks—all catering to his female best mate's wedding reception. There were batlings and adult bats clinging to the rafters with the owls, all plucking fruit and insects from elaborate braided baskets. Meanwhile, the more terrestrial guests were eating from a vast buffet.

"Hey dad!" Albus said cheerily, hanging upside down in front of him. "You have to try this mangosteen." He stuffed the white fleshy fruit into his father's mouth.

Harry, trying not to choke, chewed slowly and discovered it was quite good indeed. James landed, flipping himself upside down to cling by his brother. He chewed a peach noisily. "Har darrd."

Harry tweaked his son's ear. "Don't' talk with your mouth full, James."

The batling grinned, all sharp and pointy fangs. "We won at Quidditch yesterday, Dad."

"So I heard," Harry said with a fond smile at his sons.

"Did you catch any bad wizards?"

"Don't I always?"

"You ever going to catch Uncle Ron?"

Harry frowned. "I don't think that's exactly possible, son."

James shrugged. "I owe him a hug for turning us into bats."

Harry scowled. "I owe him a slow, painful castration with a rusty knife for the exact same reason."

"Aww, Dad, don't be like that," Albus and James chimed together. "You'd love being a bat with us."

Harry shook his head. "No."

The batling brothers pouted.

Scorpius landed on the rafter with them, his pale blond fur glistening with typical Malfoy shimmer and sway. "Don't feel bad, mates. My father wants to murder him. Straight out."

The trio of batlings giggled together and flew off to another rafter, taking a few dragonfruit with them from the nearby basket.

Harry sighed as Draco sat down next to him.

"I honestly don't know what I'm going to do with him," Draco sighed, shaking his head. "Astoria thinks Scorpius is going to be a great Hit Wizard one day. I'd just be happy if he stop throwing himself off high places."

"Do be fair," Harry said reasonably, "at least he has wings. We didn't."

"There is that," Draco admitted. "You should have seen Scorpius charm father and mother like—I never got away with anything. He gets away with being a bat and probably murder too."

"Probably not murder around the two of us," Harry said. "We are Aurors, after all."

Draco watched as Severus and Hermione were "forced" to kiss by the clanking of glasses. "That's so not fair. Severus is like—younger than us now."

"So is Hermione," Harry said with a smile. "I think it's great considering how much grey hair Ron and I gave her over the years. Think of what old Mouldyshorts would have said if he knew the key to staying young was to be caught up in a jealousy-fueled love triangle and transformed into a bat."

Draco snorted loudly. "The one things Weasel did epically was not what he actually intended to do. Father, however, would rather shave himself bald before embracing a bat's life. Oddly—he's okay with Scorpius. It's pretty strange, er… was." Draco shrugged.

"Normal is overrated," Harry said philosophically. "I think it's pretty amazing that families are so eager to break down the old prejudices together now that all of the children are batlings."

"That's the thing, mate. Mess with the children and people get seriously bent out of shape. Tell me that if someone beat up James or Albus that you wouldn't be there, wand out, setting yourself on fire for their sake."

Harry grunted. "I suppose."

Hermione landed next to their table with a thump. "Hi Harry, Draco. Having fun? Did you try the crab legs?"

Harry rubbed his very full stomach. "I'm bursting, Hermione."

A black shadow landed next to her, yellow fangs glinting as the great bat rubbed his muzzle against his mate's.

"Congratulations, Severus," Draco said. "Father sends his best along with a entire silver set. Mother sent the china and tea services."

"Still wrangling his assets from across the pond?"

Draco nodded. "He loves it; you know that. Mum just enjoys going shopping."

Severus chuckled, his ears flicking with amusement. "It is so good to see Lucius doing what he enjoys instead of being cooped up in that gloomy old manse like a hermit."

Draco nodded grimly. "Way too many terrible memories in that place."

"But some good ones as well."

Draco smiled a little. "True."

"Take it from someone who knows, Draco. Dwelling on the bad and clinging to it only shackles you to the past." Snape eyed Hermione's mane of unruly hair, his wing alighting tenderly on her head. She looked up at him with a smile.

"So, how is Headmistress McGonagall's experiment with the Animagus meditations to possibly make it possible to take a human form again?" Draco asked Hermione.

"The hard part is running around with a mandrake leaf stuck to the roof of my mouth for what seems like forever," Hermione said. "It makes it hard to eat my wedding fruitcake."

Draco laughed. "So, if it works?"

"You were going to pilot a Animagus program at the school, yeah?" Harry asked. "So the children can have a bit of normalcy outside the school?"

"If they want to. It would be a useful tool in public," Hermione said.

"But it unfortunately takes quite a bit of determination and focus, and the batlings tend to be bit too enthusiastic eaters to not swallow the mandrake leaf." Severus rolled his eyes.

Hermione chuckled. "Be fair, Severus. Neville's son snorted the mandrake leaf up his nostril first in a Herbology accident."

Severus curled his lip. "The boy is a terror to Herbology just as much as his father was to Potions."

"But he's really talented in Charms," Hermione said with a cheeky wink.

Severus grunted. "At least Flitwick is now young enough to keep up with every hyperactive batling."

"Small blessing?" Hermione asked.

"Great blessing," Minerva said as she handed Hermione a crisp Asian pear.

"Minerva! My favourite! You're the best!"

Minerva smiled with a very feline grin on her bat features. "I bring good news—or at least I think so."

Raised eyebrows arched around the Headmistress.

Minerva's form shuddered as she transformed into a human form—a twenty-something Scottish witch that looked at the top of her game.

"It works!" Hermione cheered, clapping.

"That's great, ma'am! That means my sons can regain a human form!" Harry said, relapsing back into his school address. He frowned, having suddenly realised what he did.

Minerva laughed. "It's hard, isn't it?" she said with a grin. "Going against seven years of programming to call me anything but my name?"

Harry flushed deeply. "Maybe?"

Minerva tilted her head. "Animagus meditations take considerable focus and will, Harry. You have to want it very much and have the iron will to make it happen. That is not always possible for teenagers, which is why we don't usually teach Animagi studies in school. If this works for our staff, then perhaps seeing them switching back and forth will inspire them, but it is not like teaching flying where we can throw them into a class and make them human again."

Harry frowned. "I understand."

"Harry," Hermione said, putting a wing on his arm. "For some completely random happenstance, we were turned into bats, but it has created an unprecedented solidarity between the children. A bat's resilience and strong social bonds was apparently passed to them all along with the change. It is not a bad thing. We dodged that bullet. Of all the random bad things that could have happened, we got this, but this—" She gestured with her wing to the batlings laughing and playing in the rafters and the smiles of the other parents as they realised how happy their children were. "This is something truly special."

Harry winced. "I just—I don't want them to be a public spectacle like I was."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, giving him a hug.

"It's not about being a spectacle," she said. "It's about being content in who you are. Look how hard it was for us to find that. Some are still looking."

Harry placed a hand over her wing. "It's hard enough keeping up with kids when they can't fly."

Minerva laughed heartily at that. "Oh, boy. You have no idea. Children find a way to get in trouble regardless of flight. Some are simply more prone to trouble than others." She raised a brow at him.

Harry tried in vain to make himself smaller.

"Some would call it karma," Severus droned lowly.

Harry shot Severus a look, trying to appear affronted, but then he settled for resigned. "Probably. Look—I hated you so much as a kid, but—I realised now that things aren't like they were. Or rather what they appeared to be. I can see you now as someone other than what you were. There were people much closer to me that did some truly horrible things. I am glad I was wrong about you. I am also glad that Hermione found someone to keep her engaged and happy. I realise now that it's not always about where you expect it. I married Ginny because it was expected, but all she wanted was money, Quidditch and fame once the war simmered down. I don't regret my children, but I regret the relationship I had that gave me them did not last. I hope yours lasts. I think—you'll show us all how it's done." Harry flinched. "Sir," he added.

Severus was silent for a long moment. "You have indeed grown up, Mr Potter. I would, if you prefer, call you Harry. You are not your father, and it is past time that I parted ways with the old memories that chained me with hatred. You may call me Severus, if you wish." He extended his wing thumb to Harry.

Harry clasped the Potions Master's wing thumb. "Thank you, Severus. I'd really like that."

Draco nudged Harry. "Bout time."

Harry mock-glared at him. "Hey, I changed my opinion of you, ferret. Don't make me change it back."

Draco pouted.

Harry watched as one of the older batlings fetched drinks from Rosmerta. Her new, skillfully designed magic tankards were designed to function even upside down, allowing all the batlings to drink with confidence from their perches in the rafters. Business was booming, even outside of the wedding reception, and he had to admit that he liked the changes the witch had made to accomodate and adapt to the changes in her Hogwarts clientele. She'd even hired a few of the older batlings for side-jobs waiting on the flying customers. He'd heard that quite a few businesses were eager to hire the Hogwarts' batlings to help deliver goods, messages, and even air-freighted food to the school and residences.

"You know—I think you're probably right. It may not have been what Ron expected when he set out to turn Severus into a bat, but he ended up creating something special. Even if that wasn't his intent at all. Far from it, in fact."

"His children are apparently a big hit with the locals," Severus said drily.

Harry snorted butterbeer up his nose as he fought back a mad cackle of laughter.

He tried to wipe his face with a napkin as Lily, his youngest, threw a bat plushie at her brothers from her table with some of the other younger children that were not yet school age.

Her brothers landed next to her, tickling her mercilessly and giving her a wing-wrap hug. She giggled and smiled, trying to force them to eat wedding cake with her. Her brothers spluttered, having fruitcake and icing smeared all over their muzzles.

"So, have the Unspeakables figured out what really happened to Ron and Trelawney?" Draco asked, visibly curious. "We only got the watered down versions from the PR representative."

Minerva just shrugged.

"All we have is educated guesses, but from what Amelia told me in the latest update, when Severus and Hermione performed their tracing spell using Hermione's blood as the base, it triggered a rather peculiar reaction in the concentrated potion that was hidden in the kitchens. Sybill, known for her great love of sherry, was raiding the kitchens and drank the cooking sherry bottles—including the potion in question, which was disguised as a sherry bottle so the elves would use it in the cooking for the special Halloween desserts and whatever else. While Sybill was staggering around, which can only be confirmed by the portraits, she ran into Ronald Weasley, who was hurrying to meet Hermione and Severus as they did the trace. Somehow, they collided with each other precisely when the trace solidified, and the burst of tracing magic combined with the potion… they suspect that Sybill and Mr Weasley may have been injured by their collision, contributing their own blood to the equation, to devastating effect. Cue a chaotic mutation of the original formula, which was concentrated in Sybill's stomach and mixed with whatever other things she may have been drinking or eating before the incident in question—which she unfortunately vomited up in her highly intoxicated condition, covering them both in, well… the potion mess. However it happened—they ended up canoodling as crabs. Their vast amount of offspring apparently grow very rapidly, much to the delight of the Black Lake residents. Even the centaur are appreciating the tasty results."

Minerva smiled. "Firenze took a large sack of them Magorian, and apparently fire-roasted king crab is now a big herd favourite. The thestrals go fishing for them too, which is somewhat amusing to watch when the batlings go chasing after the floating crabs and fighting the invisible thestrals for their prizes. Thankfully, the batlings are just curious, and the thestrals just want to eat in peace."

Draco was spluttering helplessly and laughing himself silly, slamming his fist on the table in mirth. "The Weasel went and got himself crabbed with Trelawney and now they're getting it on and making loads of baby crabs all over Black Lake?! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHA!"

Draco continued to wheeze and laugh uproariously.

"Trick or treat," Severus said, giving his wife an affectionate nuzzle.

"Tricks are done. I'm ready for treats," she said flirtatiously, wiggling her furry eyebrows at her mate.

Severus gave her a very heated look.

"Hey, no batling creation in front of virgin eyes!" Harry cried.

Hermione gave Harry a dubious eyebrow. "Honestly, Harry. You have three children."

"Which sprung from the ground after being delivered by drunken storks on Nimbus 9000s. La la la la lah!" Harry said, covering his eyes dramatically.

Draco gave Harry a strange look. "You're ruddy knackered, mate. Time to get you home."

"No, no, no! If we leave, those two will make hundreds of batlings together!" Harry moaned.

Hermione and Severus exchanged glances.

"I was going to start with one. A hundred could take some time."

"Perhaps we should get started," Severus purred, purposely tweaking Harry's buttons.

"AHHH!" Harry cried. Harry fled to the counter and filled his tankard up with more beverage on tap.

"Um—Mr Potter that's the—" Rosmerta started just as Harry chugged it down.

KERFOOOOOF!

Harry had sprouted a huge pair of bat ears and a bright pink set of antlers.

"Whoa!"

"Cool dad!"

The batlings all dangled in front of him excitedly.

"That was the prank butterbeer for the batlings," Rosmerta said, turning faintly red and sighing.

Harry's body shook as the beer took more effect, and his entire body went stag—pink stag and then some as purple scales travelled down his back as he started to look not so unlike a pink kirin with bat ears.

"Yay, you look so pretty, daddy!" Lily crowed in delight.

"Nononono!" Harry bleated in dismay. "This is worse than being a bat!"

Lily's face scrunched up and she burst into tears. "There is nothing wrong with being a bat! I want to be a bat! YOU SHOULD TOO! That way we can all be a FAMILY! Albus, James, you, me, and Unca Draco too!"

A blast of hot-tempered magic caused her fiery red hair to rise up and a rush of powerful accidental magic flooded out of her like heat from a blast furnace with her intense emotion-fueled demand.

The tables tossed around. Food and drink went flying in random directions, and a cloud of utter chaos descended upon the Three Broomsticks.

When the cloud finally dissipated, a bright pink anthropomorphic vesper bat sat with a blond Honduran white bat in the shattered remains of a tavern table. A small stripe-faced bright red-orange great fruit-eating bat rose up from the floor with a squeal of delight.

"YAY! I'm just like my brothers!" Lily leapt into the air, flapping her wings wildly and crashed into a barrel of butterbeer, having not realised the complexities of flight in her haste. She slammed into one barrel and went arse over kettle into another, sending a cascade of beer and assorted drinks and food to the floor.

Hermione flew over quickly and pulled out her wand to scan Lily for any lasting or critical damage. "Oh no you don't, Miss Potter," Hermione admonished, her voice twisted into that of authority. "You've managed to break about twenty places in your wings with that last trick, and you're going to have to be under a healer's care for a month to make sure the bones set and heal correctly so you don't end up with a pair of utterly useless limbs."

"What?! NOOOOOO!" Lily cried, her temper and magic rising again.

This time, however, Hermione, Severus, and Minerva cast spells simultaneously, restraining the little witch to keep her from hurting herself and shielding the room from her magic to protect the other patrons.

The pink bat stormed over somewhat awkwardly with the flap of membrane that connected his legs together and his wings. "That's it, young lady. You are so grounded."

The blond Honduran fruit bat stalked over with heavy footsteps. "You better hope this is temporary, young lady, or there will be no big birthday party for you this year."

"But—but—" Lily's eyes welled with tears and she wailed. "We're a family!"

Minerva sniffed as she unfolded her wings from her body and brushed the debris off herself. "Well, I can see who young Lily takes after the most."

Severus sighed. "A second generation of sheer dumb luck, Minerva?"

Minerva shook her head as a heavy sigh escaped her lungs. "Apparently so."

*spider cheering as they drag out a jack-o-lantern and light it with an eerie green glow*

"Happy Hallow-wedding!"

"Indeed."

"Slightly late due to real life."

"Do we have a real life?"

(spiders poke each other)

"Eee! That tickles!"

"Seems real to me!"

"Let's go get some punch!"

"Wait, what if it turns us into bats?"

"Spider bats?"

"Well there are spider monkeys—"

"I don't think that's the same."

(spider falls into bucket of cider)

"Hic!"

"Uh oh."

(drunk spider turns into Harry Potter)

"Bloody Hell!"

(spiders flee)