Summary: [HG/SS] AU/Crackfic. Neville created something borderline genius in potions class that changes the very course of history—literally.

A/N: Trying to shake a cold and work 12 hour shifts + Aunt Flo = Hell on Earth. Just saying…

Beta Love: I just might be publishing unsupervised… nope. The Dragon and the Rose caught me. Dang she's good.

Avoidance

"A great deal of intelligence can be invested in ignorance when the need for illusion is deep."

Saul Bellow - To Jerusalem and Back

Snape realised he was truly Merlin's gift to the term "bastard" much too late as the thick, cloying fumes of Neville Longbottom's disastrous potion dissipated, and Hermione Granger was gone.

He knew exactly where she had gone.

His fault.

His fault for terrorising Longbottom into botching his potion so epically.

His fault.

"You'll remember me, won't you Severus?" Her hand had closed over his as he pulled her into an embrace.

"Always," he had replied. "I could never forget you. Ever. Besides—" He tucked her against his chest, closing his eyes. "You haven't disappeared in seven years. You won't. You're here to stay."

Hermione's eyes watered as she looked into his eyes. "That life— it was real, Severus. I know it was. What if takes me back? What if— you're not there when I go back?"

"If you go back, and you won't," he said, cupping her face with his hands. "I'll be waiting for you. I'll be there."

"I'm frightened," Hermione whispered. "I don't want to go back to a world without you. What if it's a different world? What if you're dead? What if I was somehow born wrong? What if—"

He kissed her forehead. "I will cross hell and high water to be at your side, Hermione. I swear it."

"But—"

Severus kissed her soundly, silencing her chain of what-ifs. "We're going to get married. We're going to be happy. We're going to have that cottage by the sea. Otters. Gardens. Everything you've dreamed of."

"But Lily said—"

"Damn what Lily said," Severus cursed. He brushed her hair back with one hand. "She's wrong. I would never hurt you. You know this."

"I know," she whispered, clinging to his black robes. "That's the one thing I know for sure is you."

"Then you're the only one," he said sombrely. "Even Lily believes I'm evil. Dark. Irredeemable."

"You are Dark, Severus," Hermione said, placing a finger to his lips. "But we are all painted in shades of grey. We are all Dark just as much as we are Light. As long as you never lose sight of yourself in either, there is nothing wrong with being that way."

"We'll fight this war together," he promised.

Hermione looked haunted.

"Fly with me," he whispered, his warm black eyes meeting hers.

Her whisky-hued eyes brightened along with her smile. Eager, joyous. "You did it!"

"For you."

Unshed tears filled her eyes. "Take me with you."

He embraced her tightly before stepping back. "I would never leave you behind. Ever."

His form shimmered and flowed into that of an ebony Thestral. He keened a long mournful note, rearing up before he bowed low enough to allow her to mount.

Hermione climbed on his back, hugging his neck tightly as she placed her head against his warm skin.

Her heartbeat pulsed against his neck as he leapt into the air, carrying her to the skies.

"I love you," she whispered against his skin. "I believe in you."

Severus crooned a whale-like song as he flew up high into the clouds, revelling in the freedom of wings with the one witch who had become everything.

Severus closed his eyes, his fists tightening as he realised that the young Hermione Granger that had just disappeared hadn't just been a mere doppelganger sent back to mock his pain and suffering.

It hadn't been life rubbing salt in his wounds like inflicting him with Potter's son wearing James Bloody Potter's face and Lily's haunting green eyes—

It had been her.

His Hermione.

His bossy, bushy-haired, beautiful, brilliant, tenderhearted Hermione.

"Won't you be my friend?" Her eyes were like cognac in the bottle, flickering like the sun behind the glass.

"Why would I want to be friends with you?" he had asked, his lip curling.

"Because you need a friend, and so do I."

"I don't need a friend," he said bitterly.

She sat down beside him, opening her book.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Reading."

His face turned red. "Why are you doing it here?!"

"I like this tree."

Severus tried to think up a response, but his brain refused to come up with anything but an imaginary negative number that couldn't possibly exist.

He clenched his teeth and opened his own book to read, trying valiantly to hold on to his disgust and his anger and his loneliness.

But his heart fluttered slightly as this bushy-haired she-demon just chose to sit by him and share his space only a mere breath after offering her friendship.

Severus trembled at the memory. He ran his wand over the speckles of what looked like tiny grains of glowing sand around Neville Longbottom's cauldron.

"Where did you get this?" Snape hissed dangerously at Longbottom.

The young boy trembled so violently, and then he just passed out cold on the floor.

Time sand.

Neville Longbottom had, somehow, accidentally created time sand.

"I really don't know how I got here," Hermione said, staring out over Black Lake. "I was in class, I think—it was potions. I hardly knew anyone there. I was partnered with a shy boy. Before very long, everything went pear-shaped."

It would have been an indisputable genius on his part had Longbottom actually managed it ON PURPOSE.

"I don't trust her!" Lily hissed furiously. "You shouldn't either!"

"She's in your own reputedly beyond reproach house, Lily."

"She's always in the library. She never socialises with us!"

"Because you push her out!"

"That's not true!"

Severus unceremoniously yanked Longbottom up by the collar and swept from the classroom. "Class dismissed! I want three feet of parchment on the properties and usage of time sand on my desk at our next class, or you'll all be serving detention with Mr Filch."

Snape stormed up to the Headmaster's office and practically flung the still-unconscious Longbottom boy over Albus' desk. "This bloody little imbecile just blew up his classmate!"

Albus' blue eyes grew very wide, but then they flicked over to Severus' white knuckles and the red skin under his almost all-concealing black cravat. "Severus? Who was hurt? Did you take them to the infirmary?"

Snape threw his palms down on the desk as he hissed through bared yellow teeth at the elderly Headmaster. "Don't you understand, Albus? There was no one left to take to the infirmary!"

Albus frowned, standing. "What?"

Snape glowered at Albus meaningfully.

Dumbledore's face suddenly paled. "Hermione Malfoy?"

"From this point on, Hermione is my sister. We've adopted her. She is, by the Old Ways, now of our blood. She is as much a Malfoy as I. If any of you dare to raise a wand or hand to her, I will personally see to it that you spend the remainder of your pitiful lives in the most painful manner possible where no amount of money or influence will save you or your family," Lucius snarled through bared teeth, his knuckles white as he flung Goyle bodily into the curtains with his magic and a swift gesture of his hand.

"Just because the witch saved you from old Abraxas doesn't mean— HRK!"

Lucius' hand closed tightly around Crabbe's throat as he pinned him against the portrait of Salazar Slytherin. "She saved me from my wretched bastard of a father, you son of a motherless goat! How many of YOU would have the mettle to stand up to your own sire? Hrm? At the age of twelve? HRM?!"

The throng of purebloods quivered in fear against the sheer ferocity of the Prince of Slytherin's ire. None dared to speak.

"But, she's a bloody Gryffindor!" one of other wizards protested, only to find many sets of eyes staring incredulously at him as an infuriated Lucius' face came dangerously close to his.

"You insult my mother's pride in her beloved daughter?"

"Nuh-no, Merlin no, Lucius!" the wizard stammered, practically pissing his trousers in fright.

"As long as we have an understanding," Lucius growled, his voice terribly quiet over the layers of unmistakable threat.

Severus stood silently in the dark near the fireplace as he realised his friend had single-handedly cowed the whole of Slytherin by having turned Lucius' irate, rampaging father into a blond gerbil after the infamous wizard had decked her in the halls of Hogwarts for daring to stand up for Lucius.

A gerbil that was "accidentally" eaten by one of the school owls.

Or maybe shared between a few of them.

No one was quite sure—

Everyone knew that Abraxas Malfoy was a right piece of work, and that he would pick a fault of the week and make Lucius pay dearly for it until it stopped amusing him. No one had ever dared stand up to him—

Until the day Hermione had quite literally fallen out of the sky to land squarely on top of Abraxas as he slammed his teenage son hard against the castle wall and pressed his jewel-encrusted walking cane into the younger wizard's throat—

Severus stared into Albus' eyes, fulling aware that the older wizard would not be able to resist rifling through his memories like one would a filing cabinet. The only difference between him and the Dark Lord was that Albus wouldn't Crucio him at the same time.

And Snape wanted the old man to see the memories.

"Save her, please, you must save her!" Severus pleaded.

"I'm afraid I cannot, Severus," Albus has said. "She was a fugitive from time. The Ministry was well within its rights to take her away before more damage to the timeline was done."

"She had done nothing!" Severus cried in anguish. "Nothing!"

"Have you thought that perhaps her meeting you was never supposed to happen?" the Headmaster asked.

Snape paled. "What?"

"Things must be set to rights, or she will never leave Azkaban," Albus said. "I'm so sorry, my boy."

"What do you mean set to right?" Severus demanded, his black eyes filled with despair as his hand fiddled with the ring in his robe pocket— the antique silver and sapphire ring meant for Hermione's finger.

"I'm sorry, Severus, but no one must remember Hermione Malfoy until her original time."

Severus had turned his back to the Headmaster only to spin back around—

A flash of light took him straight to the head.

"I'm truly sorry, Severus."

Severus lay on the ground, staring blankly up at the darkening sky as the Ministry Obliviators surrounded him—

Severus used his arms to fling all of the Headmaster's things off his desk with a resounding crash. "You— you stole the only good thing in my life, Albus!"

Fawkes let out a startled squawk and quickly flew out the window.

"You made me think that bloody bitch Lily was the sole focus of my devotion for all these years! My loyalty. My GUILT! My pain!"

"It had to be done!" Albus argued. "The timeline had to be repaired!"

"And how do you know that wasn't the way it was SUPPOSED to be, you meddling old bastard?! Something better! Something incredibly beautiful and genuine?!"

Severus tore at his hair in frustration and pain. "I loved her, and she loved me. Where is your so-called greater good in letting her be torn from my embrace on the very night I was to propose— screaming—begging—pleading for me to help her!"

"It wasn't her time, my boy. You know that."

"She. Saved. Us," Severus snarled. "There isn't one single Slytherin, bookish Ravenclaw, or shy Hufflepuff that didn't thrive more and all because of HER!"

"That wasn't how it was supposed to be! She didn't belong here, Severus!" Albus shouted.

"How dare you presume to know?!"

Albus was silent.

"HOW!"

"A prophecy," Albus sighed, his voice a bare whisper.

Severus face shifted into a dangerously emotionless expression. "Whose, Albus?"

Albus flinched, looking at his globe across the room.

"WHOSE!"

"It won't help—"

Snape's face twisted suddenly, displaying an inhuman baring of teeth. "Who. Made. The. Prophecy? And don't tell me it was sodding Trelawney, as we both know she can't be trusted to make a prophecy about what the house elves will prepare for breakfast in the morning."

"It was Lily Evans."

Severus' knuckles popped as he clenched his hands tightly. "You trusted the prophecy of an adolescent girl whose insane jealousy of Hermione was well-known to everyone in this school?"

His lips pressed into a firm line. "I'm not the only one who is going to remember her now, Albus," Snape bit out, his threat entirely unconcealed. "Lucius Malfoy is going to remember that he had a little sister. Alastor Moody is going to remember his brilliant young apprentice. Minerva is going to remember to whom she taught Animagus lessons on Saturday evenings. Alice and Frank Longbottom should have been attending my wedding instead of getting tortured to death on that terrible night. Nearly every single Death Eater is going to remember that they owe a Life Debt to a certain bushy-haired little witch— and you, Albus—"

Snape's venom dripped. "I hope you burn."

Snape whirled and stormed from the Headmaster's office just as Neville Longbottom came to and promptly passed out again in fright.

Phineas Nigellus crossed his arms in his portrait frame and glowered darkly at Dumbledore. "If that Mudblood Evans chit was still alive, she'd be quite dead very soon, boy."

"And why would you show any concern for a Muggleborn witch, Phineas?" Albus snapped at the portrait.

Phineas Black scowled. "You know as well as I that a magic-sealed adoption ritual spans the web, Albus. All the strands, all the incarnations. She is Hermione Malfoy— forever. Slayer of abusive family patriarchs. Saviour of Slytherin House. Champion of the abandoned and forgotten. A golden Gryffindor with a fine coat of scales. When you let your foolish desire to protect that ridiculous Evans chit for the prophecy of a future Potter son and a Dark Lord's supposed demise rule your thinking, you stole away the one who held sway over the bulk of those who fled to hoist Tom Riddle's banner. This is all your doing, Albus."

Black sneered at Dumbledore. "You disgust me."

"Leave me alone, Phineas. Now."

The elder Black stiffened. "Your wish is my command, Headmaster," he said coldly and left his frame in a contemptuous swirl of painted black robes.

One by one, the other portraits silently left their frames, leaving the Headmaster alone with only Neville Longbottom's unconscious form for company.

Board of Governors Suspend Headmaster Albus Dumbledore While He Remains Under Investigation For Illegal Imprisonment of the Missing Malfoy Heiress

Memories are very strange things, ladies and gentlewizards, and there are no laws more harsh and unforgiving than the ones which punish those who would tamper with them for their own selfish ends.

Almost overnight, all memories of a once well-known and beloved young heiress of the Malfoy family, simply vanished.

Owls upon owls came flooding in to the DMLE from various sources, all reporting the same thing: Hermione Malfoy.

While under investigation for her mysterious disappearance, none other than Headmaster Albus Dumbledore stated that Hermione Malfoy was taken away due to a terrible crime of a highly sensitive nature— a crime he has steadfastly refused to speak of.

A search of Azkaban and every other known Wizarding prison in the world, however, has not resulted in the discovery of the whereabouts of the lost Malfoy witch.

Inquiry to Albus Dumbledore has met with failure, evasion, and claims that Hermione Malfoy was an imposter.

He has been suspending, pending trial, as the investigation proceeds to trial.

Lucius Malfoy, who has since remembered his younger sister, accuses Mr Dumbledore of having caused his lady mother to die of grief, due to constant pining for "a daughter" that she could not even put a name to.

To increase the level of strangeness in this tale, dear readers, we must also add that Hogwarts student Neville Longbottom has reportedly turned himself in for having "blown up Hermione" despite the Headmaster's vehement protests that all students are well-protected at Hogwarts.

Investigations are underway as to if the two Hermiones are connected in some way and if, somehow, Mr Longbottom's unfortunate accident in the potions classroom set into motion a tangled chain of events that spans a number of decades in the past.

Seeing as Mr Longbottom is a minor, and his fellow student was also one at the time of her supposed displacement, if this is confirmed to be true, neither will be held accountable for unintentional time-tampering due to the nature of the accident.

Many supporters and conspiracists of Hermione Malfoy, who many believe to be the true Hermione, speculate that everything went to pot after the young witch disappeared, and not before or during her short life.

"I'm betting that little Muggle tart, Lily Evans, did away with her!" former Ravenclaw Olivia Green said to our reporters. "She hated Hermione Malfoy. Everyone knew that. She hated how people saw her as being such a champion of the underdog. People liked Hermione, and that took attention away from her!"

While all the investigations are still ongoing, many are clamoring for the use of Veritaserum on Mr Dumbledore, but without proof of Hermione Malfoy's true status, any use of the serum is, unfortunately, unwarranted.

"There is no bloody way that girl was a sodding Malfoy," Ron blurted in protest, spitting out a bit of chicken wing, earning groans of disgust from his tablemates.

"The pictures don't lie, mate," Harry said, frowning. "They look just like her. The first ones, I mean. Only the other ones show she grew up."

"Well it's obviously not HER then," Ron justified smugly, still eating.

Seamus, hastily schooching over in his seat to avoid being spat upon, frowned. "We were all there when Neville blew her up, and Snape made us write three feet about time sand. He obviously knew what had happened!"

"That's sodding Snape for you! What does he know other than how to be bloody terrifying?" Ron shuddered.

"They grew up together, yeah?" Dean whispered. "Hermione and Snape. They were going to be married."

"No way," Ron garbled, his mouth half-full of toasted cheese sandwich.

Fred and George promptly smacked Ron upside the head from both sides, causing him to launch what was in his mouth clear across the room. "You're bloody disgusting, baby bro. Stop eating like you never had a decent meal in your life, yeah?"

Ron, who had shoved several spoonfuls of strawberry jelly cubes into his mouth already, muttered, "Wot? Mum never made stuff like this."

"Department of Mysteries says I somehow created a time paradox," Neville said, staring into his glass of pumpkin juice. "I accidentally sent her back in time, creating a past that relied on her having been sent back in time."

"Whaa?" Lavender boggled, her eyes going very wide.

"Neville here was meant to botch that potion, Lav," Pavarti explained. "It was fate. You remember what we read in that old Divination book in the library?"

Lavender shook her head. "I guess, but it was an accident."

"That was meant to happen."

"Yeah, like Ronniekins here choking to death," Fred snorted as he saved his brother yet again from choking on food yet again.

"Bound to happen," George agreed. "I think he may have some kind of food compulsion."

"No way that little bushy-haired monster is actually a Malfoy," Ron reaffirmed, scoffing loudly. "She's way too annoying."

"I could think of someone who's way more annoying than her," Harry muttered half under his breath as he took a swig of his pumpkin juice, causing Seamus and Dean to snigger quietly into their own glasses.

Harry looked sullen for a moment, then he sat back, sighing deeply in clear disappointment. "Figures that the very first thing I hear about my mum is that she probably went and offed her main rival."

"No way your mum had any real competition from 'ermione! With all that mad hair and buck teeth?" Ron blurted, cackling loudly.

"Will you please stop talking, Ronald?!" Percy finally snapped, slamming his fist down on the table and sending a large tureen of tomato soup spilling over into his youngest brother's lap.

Ron immediately pelted screaming out of the Great Hall, causing many of the students to send up a cheer before going back to their now considerably quieter afternoon meal.

Fred put a brotherly arm around Harry's shoulders. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Harry. We're not our parents, yeah?"

Harry nodded once, manfully trying to cheer up. He looked up at the Head Table to see Snape scowling but for once not at him. "I feel pretty bad for him."

Harry stared into his juice. "He had a happy future ahead of him, and my mum took it all away."

"You really don't know for sure that your mum actually did anything, mate," George tried to placate.

Harry just shook his head. "I know her sister, my Aunt Petunia," he said grimly. "Believe me, it's not too hard to imagine."

"You brought me here to look in a mirror?" Snape asked Phineas, his dark brows furrowing in annoyance. "Sure the ambiance is suitably Slytherin, but—"

"It's not just any mirror, boy," Phineas chided. "It's the Mirror of Erised."

"So, a fancy mirror."

The elder Headmaster wrinkled his painted nose. "Your snark is utterly wasted on me, young man. Instead of lashing out at me, why don't you take a look inside now that the time wards are gone along with the geas that kept me from saying anything."

That startled the potions master. He blinked and took a step towards the mirror—

And gasped.

A bushy-haired witch stood in front of him, her eyes closed as if asleep. Her all-too-familiar nigh-sentient curls moved about her head in a honey-blonde halo around her Malfoy-pale skin.

She looked not a day older than he remembered her.

The reflection— his reflection— was much younger too.

His old self, full of the promise of a happy future.

Younger.

Hopeful.

Devoted.

In love.

So much in love.

"Of course you can marry my sister, you sodding idiot," Lucius had almost yelled at him. "I'm not telling you you can't marry her! I'm telling you that you can't propose to her without a proper sodding ring or my lady mother will murder us both!"

Severus closed his eyes.

Her presence was tangible.

He felt himself wrapping his arms around her, the touch of her silken skin, the warmth of her body, the tickle of her fragrant curls against his nose. He could feel her pulse— the thrum of life that had become so painfully a part of him that its absence had left him totally bereft without knowing why.

All those years, he had believed it was because Lily was dead.

"Hermione," he whispered, feeling the tears slide down his nose.

He tightened his embrace, the cruel illusion of her being there in his arms was so strong, so powerful.

"Severus," Hermione's voice whispered, sleepy, slowly awakening.

Snape's eyes shot open as he found her in his arms—

Real.

Real!

REAL!

He looked to the mirror and it was just a reflection— a younger, very baffled-looking reflection.

Hermione's hand touched his cheek. "Was I sleeping, love? Why do you look so sad?"

Snape let out a choked sob as he crushed her to him. "Hermione!"

She wrapped her arms around him. "Last I checked," she whispered, chuckling softly. "I had such odd dreams. Nightmares."

"I'm here now," he said, stroking her hair with his hand.

"Silly," she chided. "You've always been here for me."

He pressed his forehead to hers and then his head dipped to place a kiss on her lips— desperate and hungry, worshipful and needy.

"I love you," he breathed into her mouth as he took ragged breaths.

Hermione stroked his hair with her hands. "I love you too," she said as she pulled him in for another kiss. She pulled away slightly, startling him. "But why are we in a dusty cupboard with a mirror and so many snake sculptures?"

Snape burst into almost-hysterical laughter as he swirled her around and hugged her tight. The ring was in his hand, shining like the moon in the night sky.

"Will you—"

Hermione's eyes grew wide as her face lit up like the sun. "Yes! Severus— yes!"she cried, slamming into him as if by sheer force they could become one entity.

As they stepped out of the mirror's hidden cupboard, Lucius stood outside it, the sun framing his tall form like a halo of some wrathful archangel.

"Brother," Hermione cried joyously, running towards him.

Lucius scooped her up, crushing her to himself. "Sister," he sobbed, his silver cane crashing to the floor as he focused all his effort into his embrace. "Oh, Merlin—" He rocked her against him. He grabbed Severus by the wrist.

"Oh-hey what?!" Severus blurted.

"You're getting married," Lucius announced, his fingers tightening around his wrist as he yanked him close. Right now."

Crack!

They were gone.

"So much for that no Apparition rule," one the portraits commented.

"Not so much rules but rather guidelines," another said archly.

"Should they have really left the door to the Chamber of Secrets standing open like that?" another portrait asked idly.

As if to answer that question, the great door slowly closed by itself, transforming to look like any other broom cupboard.

"That Salazar had way too many doors to the Chamber," another portrait scolded, tutting. "How do you keep something secret if people can just randomly stumble into it, I ask you?"

"Hush," Phineas said quellingly. "Everything is just as it should be now. Let the rest go bite Albus on the arse."

"Hear, hear," another portrait agreed.

The portraits mumbled together and went back to business as usual as Phineas regally swept through their frames on his way back to his own.

Mission accomplished.

Lucius seized the Minister for Magic by the collar and unceremoniously dragged Fudge off to the Ministry wedding office— an ornate chapel nestled in the very heart of the Ministry, seemingly forgotten by many. The small arboretum within flourished with lush flowers and ornamental trees and it was kept very well-tended by a colony of fairies that busily flitted from branch to branch as they tried not to be eaten by equally enthusiastic predators.

Minerva arrived wearing elegant dress robes accented by a McGonagall tartan sash amidst a misty cloud of catnip, having used some sort of strange feline teleportation that no one else even knew existed.

Alastor arrived decked out in a kilt looking quite smug and mighty well-prepared— somehow.

Lucius had already summoned Narcissa, who worked some sort of bridal preparation magic on Hermione using Lucius' mum's exquisite wedding robes— a gown that made Hermione look like a queen and then some. She seemed determined to make things right for Hermione, perhaps having belatedly realised the significance of Lucius' having a long lost sister that he was forced to forget against his will.

A baffled-looking Draco arrived via house-elf, having been abducted from Hogwarts for the occasion. Dobby, in his haste to obey his orders, had unfortunately dressed Draco backwards, causing Narcissa to twitch in dismay as she righted the wrongs of wedding fashion for her son.

Draco, utterly disoriented and flustered, saw Hermione's mane of curls and immediately scoffed, demanding to know why some Mudblood chit was attending a family event.

However, when Hermione stood to her full height, turning to face her doubting nephew, Draco's face managed to turn twenty shades paler than usual when his eyes took in the distinctive Malfoy features and the crackle of family magic snapped into place with a distinctive zap.

Hermione's grey eyes were tinged with gold— a mixture of cognac and moonlight— the only trace of what had once been brown. Age had taken away the bucked teeth and uncontrolled bushy mane and sculpted her features into that of a Malfoy— high cheekbones and the distinctive slanted brows. Flawless alabaster skin, seemingly untouched by the sun and the definitive trademark of the Malfoy family, made her glow ethereally.

"Tch," Hermione scolded, her delicate mouth pursed into a fine line of disapproval. "Such fine manners you have, nephew. Whatever would your father say?"

Draco's brain desperately tried to reboot and failed, doing its best simulation of the blue screen of death as his jaw dropped and his eyes attempted to jump out of his skull and flee.

Lucius' pale hand grasped his son by the back of the head and pinned Draco against the wall as he stared balefully at him. His lips curled in clear disapproval, with a fleeting flash of teeth. "I trust we will not have to have a discussion on this again, Draco?"

"Nu-no, f-father," Draco stammered nervously, his grey eyes going wide with fear.

As Severus swept into the room dressed in silver dragon brocade lined formal robes, Draco's mind did another flip as the elder wizard looked not a day over twenty— the worn lines of stress age having disappeared along with a number of years. His hair, impeccably tamed and fastened with a dark green ribbon and silver serpent clasp, hung down along his back.

As the couple stood together on the wedding dais, Minister Fudge appeared quite discomfited by Snape's dark scowl— something made no less intimidating by the youthful face.

"We gather here today to witness the fusing of magic between not only a wizard and a witch but two people joined with love," Fudge managed to stammer, trying not to be intimidated by his present company.

"In a world where love has not always been a requirement, finding it is perhaps the greatest treasure," Fudge continued, tugging anxiously at his collar with one finger. "We bear witness today of a union of magic and love and the promise of a bright future built together in both good times or trying times, illness or health, wartime or peace. May the bond forged today ne'er be torn asunder. May it anchor you in life and beyond to each other, that you may never be beset with loneliness."

Dobby came bouncing up with a velvet pillow with rings on it, but he tripped and the rings went flying into the air to smack Fudge in the face just before Hermione hissed, "Immobulus!" and froze the rings in mid-fall.

Dobby frantically beat his head against the podium until Severus used his leg to shove Dobby away and back towards Lucius, who snatched up the errant house-elf by the pillowcase and forced him to sit down. Lucius cracked his neck as he pressed his lips together, keeping his attention steadily forward.

Fudge twitched, accepting the rings and placing them on the couples' ring fingers. The silver serpents slithered around their ring fingers, jewelled ruby and emerald eyes sparkling together. "With these rings, may your lives be forever intertwined, just as the vines upon the tree trunk. May your hearts be ever emboldened and your minds be made together. May your magic merge together and your power grow in unison that no task will ever be insurmountable in the face of your devotion to each other."

"Do you, Severus Snape, come willingly to bind yourself to this witch, Hermione Malfoy?"

"I do."

"Do you, Hermione Malfoy, come willingly to bind yourself to this wizard, Severus Snape?"

"I do."

He placed their hands together as he wrapped a delicate, ethereal ribbon around their hands and wrists. "I bind you together in this life as two halves made whole. May none attempt to break what has been willingly bound together lest magic strike the interloper down for the audacious attempt to sully the most sacred."

"I now pronounce you bound in magic and life in marriage most sacred," Fudge completed his speech and the ribbon seemed to sink into their skin and disappear.

Fudge cleared his throat. "You may kiss the bride."

Severus' dark eyes met Hermione's as his head dipped and his mouth covered hers in a passionate, heartfelt kiss.

A hot wave of magic burst from their bodies and washed over the chapel as it began to rain moonlight spiders on gossamer light silk threads.

"Eee! A special wedding!"

"Yay, wedding!"

"We're free!"

"Will they want us?"

"We weave the best silk!"

"Maybe we should ask?"

"Maybe—"

"Will they take us home with them?"

"I hope so. This chapel is a bit overcrowded."

One of the spiders landed on Hermione's hand and waved its leg at her. "We need a good home. Can we go live with you?"

Hermione tilted her head, giving Severus a shared look of unexpected curiosity. "I suppose so."

"Yay!"

"Double yay!"

"Most excellent, yay!"

"Best hatching day ever!"

"Indeed!"

The arachnids swarmed up to hide in her curls, making her hair sparkle like the blinking of stars.

Fudge, baffled, scratched his head. "I've never seen that happen before."

Severus tenderly touched his wife's cheek. "Get used to that feeling, Minister. My dear wife always champions the cause of the underestimated and unexpected."

As the couple stepped off the dais, the cheering guests surrounded them as they were swept away to the reception grounds with a simultaneous crack of Disapparation.

"This is not a "small" cottage, Lucius," Severus said as he surveyed the seaside garden that surrounded what could only be described as a grand seaside estate.

"Don't be thick, Severus," Lucius scoffed. "Of course it is. I will not have my precious sister living in squalor, besides— you now have a lot of moon spiders to house." His look then turned rather mischievous. "And naturally you will need plenty of space for your future children."

"My wife and I do not plan on repopulating the magical world single-handedly with our own genetics, Lucius," Severus protested.

"Only half," Lucius said with a straight face. "Do leave the other to our Draco's future family."

Draco's face turned beet red. "Ew, father. Witches are scary."

"Do give him some time, brother," Hermione said, chuckling softly. "He is only eleven."

Draco crossed his thin arms over his chest and stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. "Almost twelve."

Severus arched a brow.

Draco was still staring intently at Hermione as if trying to connect the bushy-haired Muggleborn witch with his newly discovered aunt. She possessed hints of the young girl he remembered, but the distinctive imprint of the Malfoy family was firmly demonstrated in her magical and physical DNA, and he could feel the familial connection just as assuredly as he did his mum or his father—

Adoption? He boggled at the notion.

He'd certainly heard of it, of course, but—what was the entire pureblood supremacy argument if one could choose to adopt?

He wrinkled up his face as he tried valiantly to digest the elusive epiphany.

It went about as well as fathoming how and why Severus had shed so many years off his physical age—

Not that he still wasn't bloody intimidating regardless of his age, oh no.

Was it simply something as seemingly small as acceptance? Being accepted or accepting another?

It went over about as well as realising that his "Uncle" Severus was actually his biological uncle, now— not that he'd ever had a problem with Severus save that one shameful incident as a younger child when his father had firmly cuffed him upside the head for daring speak to Severus in a manner quite unbefitting of a Malfoy.

He hadn't even known exactly what that meant, but he knew from that point on that talking down to the dark, lank-haired, brooding man was most emphatically unacceptable.

Only now—

He began to understand why.

Remembering or not, Severus had been permanently linked to the Malfoy family line through Hermione Malfoy even without being married. Hermione had trusted him, and therefore he was very important to his father. Even his oh-so-proper pureblood mother seemed to acknowledge the shift.

The truth.

It wasn't about blood at all— it was about magic.

Familial magic.

You either felt the tie or did not.

If you didn't—

Was that it? He wondered. Was it about feeling the thrum of magic in those around you— feeling that connection?

His father had said that the old families shared blood in one way or another. You could feel that distant connection despite however removed it was. Muggleborns did not have that connection— they were cut off from it— and they could create new bloodlines having never been in touch with familial magic's thrum that spanned generations.

They muddied the waters.

Mud.

Mud-blood.

Draco's eyes widened in shock as the revelation sank in.

Odd that he never felt the tingle of magical kinship with Potter, a supposed Pureblood family— or any of the Weasels…

Why would the Weasleys be cut off?

Draco didn't like thinking. It hurt his head. It ended in more questions he didn't have answers for.

"I wish mum and dad could see this place," Hermione said, her expression sad. "Well, the Grangers," she corrected. "I—" she looked at the portrait of her and Lucius' shared mother. "I miss our mum too."

Lucius put a hand on her shoulder, a look of tender understanding gracing his face. Draco couldn't remember last seeing his father being a sympathetic wizard. It was something new and strange to witness.

"Mother would be so glad you are safe," he said quietly. "As am I."

Hermione smiled at him, placing his hand on his and patting it. "I truly love it here, brother. Thank you so much."

Lucius shook his head. "You deserve it and more," he said. "If bricks could be a measure of my relief, it would be a hundred thousand times more."

Hermione laughed. "Please, no. I do not need an enormous manse."

Clutters of enthusiastic arachnids were busily making themselves at home just out of sight, declaring the home perfectly sized for their webs and varied spidery antics.

As guests filtered in, having Apparated in from the garden, Draco noticed both Crabbe and Goyle standing silently in cowed attendance to their formidable fathers. Both Crabbe and Goyle Sr placed parcels on the gifting table before approaching, practically yanking their respective sons by the collar.

"My Lady," Goyle Sr said formally, reaching out to take her hand.

Hermione placed it in his hand, and he kissed her knuckles. Crabbe Sr did the same, and they seemed quite eager to be in her company.

"Lord Goyle, Crabbe," Hermione said, giving a swift yet elegant curtsy. "How very good of you to come."

"We would never miss it," Goyle Sr said with a quick nod of his head to Crabbe Sr. "We remember clearly who rose to our defence so long ago even after our more shameful beginnings."

Hermione tilted her head. "No one deserves to be treated as scum for simply being of one house or another in a school where such things encourage misunderstanding." Her expression darkened. "Now, if someone were to try attack me personally, I would, of course, treat them in kind."

Both Goyle and Crabbe Sr smiled none to kindly, a sort of stray eagerness that whet their lips with enthusiasm. Theirs was a darker shade of grey. It had always been so— a unique balance that had been kindled by one Hermione Malfoy, who had encouraged them to become much more than what others expected of them.

Both Gregory and Vincent, however, too young and freshly minted (perhaps even a bit thick to even notice to sense the respects their fathers gave Hermione) gave Hermione a scowling, disapproving look.

Crabbe Sr jerked Vincent by the collar and pushed him forward. "My son has yet to hear the tale of how our Lady Hermione saved both myself and Conrad here from the Gryffindor gang's castration curse. Had she not done so, neither of us would have had heirs short of adoption."

Both Gregory and Vincent's eyes grew wide as reality sank in; neither of them would even have been born had it not been for Hermione Malfoy.

Hermione gave the wave that dismissed their accolades— the very familiar Malfoy wave. "It was nothing."

All present knew perfectly well that it was definitely more than nothing.

"I am gratified that you are no longer pining over that selfish little poser, Severus," Crabbe Sr said with a nod. "I am also glad that we are no longer oblivious to it like was expected of us."

Conrad Goyle shook his head, scowling. "We have ensured that the proper gift was given to bless your new family," he said sombrely. "It has the most appropriate gravity."

A clutter of spiders scurried by carrying setting cards for the tables.

"Hurry up!"

"Place cards for everyone!"

"Everything have their cards?"

"Here we go!"

Goyle and Crabbe Sr. raised their brows simultaneously.

"They won the house caretaker lottery," Severus said dryly. "They came with the wedding."

"Such things have not been seen in homes in quite some time. Most," Goyle said appraisingly, "have had house elves for so long that they forget the other creatures. As I understand it, house-spiders are a bit more— needy."

Hermione laughed as a spider peeked out of her hair to glare at Goyle. "Nothing too over the top. There are simply many more of them."

She gave the arachnid a stunned fly, and it snatched it up quickly before disappearing back into her hair.

There was an outcry from one of the guest tables as one heavily freckled ginger screamed shrilly and smashed a heavy soup bowl down on top of a card-holding spider, who was dutifully attempting to place it into the holder on the table.

Vichyssoise flew everywhere as the bone china bowl shattered, and the poor arachnid gave a startled squeak of terror before going flat in the remains of the china and soup.

Two things happened simultaneously.

Severus had seized Ronald Weasley by the collar as he glowered down at him with silent, incandescent rage, and Hermione rushed over to the damaged table. She waved her wand, cleaning up the mess and hitting the place settings with a swift Reparo before cradling the dutiful arachnid in her hands.

A thrum of magic connected her with Severus, and house itself seemed to echo with a heartbeat.

Pop!

A strand of energy from the core of the house hit the arachnid's body.

The spider's body pulled together with a piffling sound as the small arachnid looked around itself with its multiple eyes.

"I'm okay!" it announced, hugging Hermione's fingers before jumping down to the table again. "Thank you!" It righted the placeholder card and scurried off to the table on a strand of shining silk.

"I suppose that answers the question to whether the bond between the house and its caretakers has been appropriately cemented," Lucius said approvingly, placing a brotherly hand on Severus' shoulder.

The Dark wizard scowled, but he released the young Weasley as one would drop a bit of especially foul refuse into the rubbish bin. His nose crinkled as if the boy's very odour offended him intensely.

"I'm terribly sorry for my youngest son's poor behaviour, Lord Snape," Arthur apologised profusely, rushing up the moment his white-faced son was released from his iron grip. "Trust me, we will be having a most serious… discussion about this at home where it will not bring further unpleasantness to you on your most happy occasion."

Severus' lip curled in disgust, but Hermione touched his arm, gently placing her palm against the back of his hand. His expression softened and then he nodded curtly. "You are quite lucky, Mr Weasley, that my lady wife was able to restore the caretaker to rights."

"Wut?" Ron replied in outrage, turning quite red in the face. "You're actually going to continue this bloody farce? She's like twelve at the most! That's disgusting! Mum said you must have used an aging pot—MFPH!"

"That is quite enough, Ronald," Molly snapped, unceremoniously stuffing a homemade knitted scarf with the letter "R" emblazoned on it into his protesting mouth. Her face was even redder than her hair, and her eyes were flashing dangerously, fit to kill on sight.

She bowed. "My deepest apologies, Lady Snape. My comments were made before I regained my memories of you. Please forgive me for the shamefully erroneous presumptions I made."

Ron's eyes practically bugged out of his head as his mother— HIS mother— then curtsied to 'Mione!

Hermione's expression was sombre. She turned to Severus, leaning slightly if not imperceptibly against him. "I find it rather disturbing just how easily I was forgotten."

"To be fair, my Lady," Goyle Sr said quietly. "Whatever happened took the memory of you from more than just a few people."

"It stole you from your family, your allies, and even those whose jealousy outweighed personal merit," Lucius agreed.

Hermione nodded, seeming quite sad. "All I wanted was to be her friend. She was important to Severus, so that made her important to me."

Severus took his wife into his arms and hugged her close. "You were important to me."

Hermione touched his cheek. "There is no shame in having cared for a friend you made before you met me, love."

Severus just shook his head. "I did not know what I had been missing until I met you."

"Insufferable know-it-all, is I believe what you said," she replied, chuckling.

Severus sighed. "I was equally insufferable."

Hermione smiled. "Just set in your ways."

"At twelve?"

"Children seem to be even more stubborn," she noted, eyes twinkling.

Severus rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips.

A belligerent Ron looked like he was about to unscarf himself and stand up, but Fred and George promptly charmed their little brother's chair to sprout a set of shackles that held tight to his arms and legs, then silently returned to eating their meal. Percy looked rather intimidated by it all and yet quite eager to start schmoozing.

Ron's brow was sweating profusely with his outraged resistance to being forcibly squelched. His magic was flaring wildly in his emotional state, and it was clear that the flare of his emotion was amplifying his magic considerably, sending tremors through the chair as the bindings cracked.

Molly and Arthur quickly tried to calm him down by dispelling the restraints, but Ron stood immediately, his face scrunched up to release his pent-up frustrations in a torrential verbal onslaught, but his magic did the talking for him, and it rose and lashed out, knocking his parents backwards.

"There's no way a stupid Muggleborn bint got cozy with all you slimy Slytherins!" he blurted.

Silverware clanked and glasses dropped as silence fell over the gathering.

Molly looked absolutely mortified, and a miserable Arthur cradled his head in his hands. Ron's older brothers, who had been politely eating their dinners and chatting quietly, stared in shock. Ginny slithered deep into her seat as if she was trying to merge herself with the floor, embarrassed beyond belief by her youngest brother's behaviour.

Fred and George grabbed Ron by the arms and unceremoniously frogmarched him out the garden door.

"We're so sorry everyone! Our Ronniekins hasn't been right in the head since he drank that cleaning potion he thought was a his favourite sweetberry soda! We're going to take him outside to walk it off a bit more, yeah?"

The guests went back to eating as a stunned Arthur helped his wife back to her seat, muttering lowly amongst themselves.

Lucius sighed. "I do hope the boy doesn't go wandering off into the faerie rings in the back acreage. He could end up with the head of a jackass or sporting a new fishtail."

Hermione rubbed the space between her eyes. "I remember him, that one. I— I believe he hated me because I once asked him on the Hogwarts Express if a spell he attempted to turn his familiar yellow was real."

Severus arched a dark brow. "As I recall, your reputation at Hogwarts before your epic tumble through time was not nearly as solid as what you created when you landed in mine."

Hermione smiled, her gaze full of adoration. "I found the love of my life. I think that worked out quite well, don't you?"

Severus' gaze softened, and he brushed his thumb against her cheek before putting on an official face. "Thank you all for joining us today and helping us celebrating a wedding that should have happened more than a dozen years ago. While we all have our speculations as to who orchestrated the chain of events that led to my wife's erasure from our memories, I am happy to say that she is now back in our minds and hearts, here in our lives again. Please enjoy your dinner and drinks, and should you need anything, please feel free to state your requests to any nearby spiderweb."

The gathered clinked their silverware against the crystalware gently in appreciation.

Severus took in a deep breath and gave his wife a tender look before dipping his head down to kiss Hermione in a chaste but loving touch of lips.

The guests resumed their chatter, happily enjoying their gourmet meals.

"Lucius," Severus said. "How many restaurants did you shut down to devise such a large offering? Surely not all the house-elves in the manor were ready for this event?"

Lucius' lips quirked in open amusement. "Enough."

"Hn," Severus replied, clearly unconvinced.

A shrill scream came from outside the doors leading to the back garden, and all of the guests scrambled frantically for their wands, shoving their children behind them into a protected area as they rushed outside—

… only to find an extensive gaggle of Death Eaters in full regalia having apparently tripped over one terrified and screaming Ronald B. Weasley and landed in the faerie rings. Their heads, arms, feet, rear ends, and various other appendages had been transformed into miscellaneous random beast parts belonging from creatures varying from fish to fowl.

One oddly reptilian-looking scale-covered orange-red chicken creature lay pass out flat and seeming stunned in the main faerie ring.

Brrrk.

Brrrrk.

Bukack!

It then laid a golden snitch that promptly flew off, smashed headlong into a window pane, wobbled, and deposited a rich chocolate bonbon on the sill.

Fred and George, who had been unceremoniously dumped over the side of the shorter of the two garden walls by their escaping brother, peeked over the stone edge and looked around rather blearily. The brushed the dirt and vines off their faces as their eyes grew wide.

"Wicked!' they chimed together, grinning from ear-to-ear.

BuKACK!

The orange almost-but-not-quite chicken squawked and laid another golden snitch.

At that very moment, all the Death Eaters spontaneously transformed into a flock of black-scaled almost-chickens who then proceeded to lay an astonishing number of multicoloured metallic eggs.

Lucius picked up one very cautiously, taking care not to step near the faerie rings. He tapped the shell with a manicured finger and it cracked neatly open exposing a decadent-looking chocolate truffle.

One hen, who sported a bushy pom-pom of curly black and white tail feathers, ran around frantically, flapping her wings as she tried to attack Lucius' legs.

Lucius, lips curled into a humourless smirk, said, "Well hello there, my dear sister-in-law."

BuKAK! BuKAK!

The hen tried again to attack him, but her bill was gummy and harmless and her claws made sickeningly cute squeaking noises instead of tearing apart his fine silk robes. She left a trail of pastel foil-wrapped eggs in her wake.

Lucius pointed his wand at the ginger un-hen and levitated it over to Molly Weasley. "Congratulations, Madam Weasley. I believe you may have just acquired the start of a unique and lucrative business in chocolate eggs."

Alastor Moody smirked and sipped his drink as he leaned up against the taller garden wall. "Well, I haven't had this much fun at a wedding reception in quite a long time. That's the problem with faerie rings. The magic tends to be notoriously random." He moved his wand around scanning the squawking not-chickens. "Whatever blast of accidental wandless magic young Ronald emitted while he was running around here like a lunatic, it seems to have combined with the faerie magick and created—"

"Whatever the cluck this is," Severus said, utterly deadpan.

"BuKACK!" the un-chickens squawked together, laying another large clutch of chocolate eggs.

Crabbe and Goyle Sr shook their heads in bemusement at the transformed former brethren they had left behind in order to attend the Snape wedding.

"Bellatrix never could resist an opportunity to ruin a happy event," Narcissa mused, tilting her head up. "Oddly, seeing her transformed into an almost-chicken seems strangely fitting somehow. Though I am not quite sure how she managed to find this place as even I did not know of it until Lucius remembered enough to tell me."

"Familial magic," Hermione said sadly. "She'll always know where her sister is."

Narcissa closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "She was a kind witch once, but she truly adored our father. He… ruined her. He showed her things no child should ever see. She was never quite right again."

She stood a little closer to Lucius, taking comfort from his presence without touching. She'd never been comfortable with closeness that actually touched, and that she blamed on her father too. She'd often wondered after Lucius shared his memories of Hermione's feats—if Hermione had learned about it as she had with Lucius' father if her father would have suffered some sort of epic magical mishap and found himself frantically swimming the seas to avoid being eaten by a hungry seal, penguin, otter, or worse.

She had a feeling that the reason her sister Andromeda preferred to marry a Muggleborn and forsake the familial bond of magic was because of their twisted monster of a father.

No, she found that she couldn't really blame Andromeda at all.

Maybe now, she thought. Maybe they could finally reconnect again.

Maybe she would like their former sister, Bella the dysfunctional un-chicken, as a belated wedding gift.

Narcissa smiled as Aurors poured in as they responded to the call from Alastor Moody. The baffled Aurors rounded up the almost-chickens while trying not to step, fall in, or otherwise end up in the faerie circles.

"So, brother," Lucius said, purring.

Severus arched a brow. "Yes, Lucius?"

"Fancy a nice chicken dinner?"

Severus' smirk in response was decidedly wicked.

End of Chapter One

A/N: I know some of you would prefer updates on Born Unto Darkness or another of the longer epic stories, but my schedule makes it really hard to focus on the longer stories right now. I'm not abandoning them, I just need a good jolt of inspiration to continue the pacing. This story was meant to be a one shot, but it got away with me as more and more details filled in.

Thank you for the support you've given me in the reviews you have given. I read each and every one, even if I don't have time to reply to all of them. Thank you very much for taking the time to review. It means a lot to me after coming home from 12 hour shifts and seeing your comments.

Thanks also to my lovely beta, Dragon and the Rose, who tolerates my addle-brained easily distra(SQUIRREL) train of thoughts, and Dutchgirl01 who somehow makes time with a schedule worse than mine.

Back to work tomorrow. Cry.