Summary: SSHG Ronald uses a spell he finds in the library at Grimmauld Place to give himself what Harry's parents had: true love. Maybe he should have read a little more before trying it out. AU

A/N: A short… maybe?

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

Warning: Ron bashing.

In His Arms

A Corvus Draconis Short Story

The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.

Audrey Hepburn

Ron carefully sprinkled the vial of magical dust on Hermione as she slept with her stupid book clutched tight in her arms.

She always loved her books way more than people.

That wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Instead of paying attention to him and Harry, she buried herself in books and her studies, even at Grimmauld Place when school was out of sight and out of mind.

It should have been out of mind.

It was definitely out of his mind, so why wasn't it out of hers?!

The Dark Lord was dead.

They won the war.

They were heroes!

But noooo—

Instead, Hermione had swanned odd to study with some obscure master in Wiltshire— something about ley lines, helping Hogwarts, and preserving an ancient long-lost art. She'd come to visit Harry while taking a break from some sort of boring project of hers at Hogwarts.

There were hundreds or more people helping put Hogwarts to rights already, so why did Hermione have to waste her time there instead of putting her priorities in order where they properly belonged, like any other witch would. They weren't getting any younger, now were they?

His mum wanted grandbabies, the sooner the better! They were meant to be, if she'd just pull her bushy head out of her arse!

Psh.

Bloody useless.

His mum knew what was important: family.

They were supposed to be a family.

Well, now he was taking steps to make sure things were sorted out right and proper. He'd gone and found himself a book with something dead useful in it for once. It'd been labelled Quidditch Through the Ages, but it turned out to be about something far more interesting: it contained a certain spell to guarantee that the one you were interested in couldn't ever be without you. That would get Hermione's mind out of her books and focused on the things that really mattered.

Like him.

Especially him.

"I'm sorry, Ron, I don't think we'd work out as a couple. You're my friend. We've both changed a lot over the years. I'm sorry, I just don't think of you in that way."

Harry had told him to leave it be, but what did Harry know? He was with Ginny now, and Ginny was doing the right thing by making grandbabies just like Mum wanted. Even Percy was fulfilling what Mum wanted. Well, Charlie wasn't, but he was too busy breeding dragons to think about his own lack of a relationship.

What did books have that he didn't?

Books couldn't give you a good snog or give you babies. He was far better than any book, and he was right there! A hero ready to make her a real witch!

As the powder settled on Hermione's bare skin, he waved his wand to activate the spell, reading off the torn piece of parchment he'd taken from the book. As the magic flashed, something odd happened—

Eel-like wisps of ether rose up from the settee she was sleeping on, starting like mist and then forming into thickening, pseudo-living shapes. Phantom jaws opened exposing dagger-like teeth, and the creatures hissed as they rose up and advanced towards him.

What the bloody hell?!

The door to the library suddenly opened, and Harry bumped into him. "Oh hey, Ron. Give me a hand moving the cauldron into the kitchen, yeah? I want to start simmering the mulled punch for the Halloween party."

Ron fidgeted, looking back. The eel-things were gone. Hermione was still sleeping—

He couldn't risk her waking up and seeing Harry. That just wouldn't do at all. He pushed Harry out. "'Mione is sleeping," he said. He'd help Harry move that cauldron and come back and make sure Hermione woke up to see him. It would be just like Sirius had arranged for Harry's parents: true love.

Harry nodded, unaware of Ron's plan. "She needs her rest. She's been helping wrangle the ley lines back into place at Hogwarts. The wars really scrambled them up. Minerva said Dumbledore tried to fix them while he was there, but they didn't really listen to him, and Tom really screwed with them trying to tie that jinx on the DADA position to them."

Ron didn't really listen to what Harry was saying. It all sounded like blah, blah, blah-blah, blah to him anyway.

"I'm just glad she took some time off to visit for the party," Harry nattered on obliviously.

The doorbell rang, and Harry gestured for Ron to go ahead on to the kitchen. Ron shook his head as he moved on to the next room.

"Thank you for coming, sir," Harry's voice carried. "You can put your things in the usual room, if that's okay?"

Ron didn't hear the reply, but he figured it was just one of their work mates from the Auror office.

Harry came in shortly after. "Okay, let's move this cauldron. I can make it lighter, but it really needs two people to position it so it doesn't topple. Hermione could have done it, but Snape made me swear not to abuse her or—" Harry had this odd smile on his face. "He'd dispel the silencing charm on old Walburga."

"What do we care about that greasy git's opinion?" Ron jabbed.

Harry frowned. "He's the headmaster of Hogwarts, Ron, and a hero. A brave man. He cares about his people."

"Since when is 'Mione one of "his" people?" Ron asked, his face screwed into a scowl.

Harry gave him an odd look. "Since she took the job at Hogwarts three years ago?"

Ron shook his head. "Like she'd want that ugly old git looking out for her. Sodding pervert."

Harry frowned as they set the large cauldron down in the middle of the counter. He waved his wand to activate the heating coil that was enchanted into the countertop. "Ron, Hermione has always been ahead of everyone. If anyone can keep up with her, it's Snape— hell, if anyone can stand up to him, it's Hermione."

"Wut's that have to do with anything?" Ron blurted. "It's not like they're going to pick out curtains and pop out a bunch of sprogs." Ron looked rather green at the very thought of it.

"Ron, I don't know what hole you've been sticking your head into lately, but the natural course of courtship is to eventually— pick out curtains and," Harry scrunched up his nose. "Have a sprog or three." Harry seemed a little perturbed by the wordage— or at least Ron's use of it. "I might not see the appeal, but it works for them, and I want to see Hermione happy. Isn't that what you want too?"

"Of course I want 'Mione happy with me!" Ron babbled. "We're going to be just like your mum and dad!"

Harry's expressions cycled through a number of options before settling on frankly suspicious. "What the hell did you do, Ron?"

"Nothing!" exclaimed Ron. "Just gave her a little push to true love! Just like Sirius did for—" Ron's eyes grew wide and he trailed off abruptly.

Harry's expression darkened. "Did for whom, Ron?"

Ron started to babble.

"For WHOM, Ron?!" Harry snarled.

"I wanted what your parents had! What my mum and dad have!" Ron yelled. "She just needed to stop making love to her stupid damn books and pay attention to what was right in front of her!"

Harry's fingers curled around Ron's collar and jerked him forward as he growled, "You had better not have given Hermione some kind of love potion, Ron, because I swear I will have you guarding penguins in Antarctica so fast that you won't even have enough time to realise that your bollocks have frozen off."

"Wut? I didn't give her a potion! I swear!" Ron jabbered hastily.

Harry flung Ron away from him and stormed down the hallway.

Ron, realising what would happen if Harry barged in before him, quickly ran in to intercept and head in first.

"Ron, what in the—"

"Hermione!" Ron cried, shoving his way past Harry and diving through the library door to find—

Hermione was cuddled up against the Slytherin dungeon bat himself, her slender body tucked against his as her arm wrapped around his chest and her face pressed into his long black hair.

"Is there something on your mind, Mr Weasley?" Snape's voice was a rumble— dark and—

No, no, no! Ron thought. That is not Snape with a seductive voice. NO way! His voice is not sexy at ALL!

"Severus," Hermione purred, her hand gliding across Snape's pale cheek. "You know what your voice does to me."

"Hmmm, is it working?"

Hermione let out a heavy breath. She curled her fingers around his ears and then breathed softly onto his earlobes.

Snape's eyes seemed to darken as a low hiss escaped his throat. "We have an audience, wife."

"I. Don't. Care," Hermione replied, flicking her tongue mischievously into his ear.

Snape growled lowly, pressing Hermione against the settee as his mouth descended upon her neck. His arm knocked over a bowl Halloween candy that cracked open and let out an odd green gas. It surrounded the couple and—

POOF! Poof!

There was a large, black (and very literal) dungeon bat canoodling with a honey coloured bat.

Poof!

Harry Potter had become a tall, green-skinned Frankenstein's monster.

POOF!

Crookshanks became a Tasmanian tiger. His striped tail flicked back and forth with mild irritation.

POOF!

Ronald was now encased in a cartoonish violet and orange spider costume, his long skinny legs turning short and fat and sprouting a dense coating of gingery fuzz, resulting in an equally cute yet ineffectual waddle— the only one of them that seemed to be in an actual costume instead of transforming into something else entirely. To make matters worse, Ron's new costume smelled very strongly of fresh catnip.

Crookshanks seemed to find the brightly-coloured "spider" rather interesting and immediately began to stalk him.

"Wut? NO!" Ron cried, stumbling backwards in a tumble of cartoonish legs accompanied by comical ta-te-ta-te-tah soundeffects. His costume abruptly let out a large puff of potent catnip scent which seemed to drive the half-Kneazle into a frenzy and he began to chase a now-screaming Ron, who proceeded to run for his life whilst being swatted about the house by an extremely excited Tasmanian tiger-cum-kneazle.

A fluffy white kitten with a tag that looked like it had been drawn in child's crayon bounded into the room only to turn into a cougar the moment it hit the threshold of the library with a distinctive poof.

Rrrrrrowl, the new-cougar said as she, too, found Ronald-spider mighty fascinating.

As if to accent the appeal, Ron's costume changed to not only make him appear intoxicatingly appealing to felines, he altered again to become a arachnid-shaped box with an open lid.

ROWLLLLL!

Both formerly small felines excitedly dove into Ronald-the-arachnid-box and rolled around ecstatically inside, the sight made even more comical due to the relatively small size of said box in comparison to the oversized occupants.

The most Ron could do was make sort of muffled squeaking noise in protest of such vigorous cat-handling.

Snape snarled, standing up, the action made even more intimidating by his bat-form. "What is the meaning of this? Since when does anyone show any interest in this library but myself and my wife?"

"Ron was acting really weird—" Harry said slowly, rubbing his green bolt-head. An electrical zap went back and forth periodically. "I came back here to check on Hermione. Something he said— he pushed by me and—"

"Stop blathering and explain," Snape ordered his former student.

"Severus." Hermione's voice was trembling.

Snape quickly turned to her, stiffening in shock at what he saw.

Hermione was shaking violently and covered with a fine sheen of perspiration. Her eyes were wide and filled with fright as her hand clutched at her chest. "My heart. I can feel it racing, pounding inside me." Her breaths came faster and faster.

Severus was at her side in an instant, his wings wrapped around her and pulled her close. "Hermione."

She wilted against him, her wings tucked around his body as she gave a soft squeak of unmistakable relief. Her breathing soon evened out, and her body stopped trembling. She burrowed into his warm black fur, taking in slow deep breaths to calm herself.

Severus cupped her cheeks between his wingthumbs. "Are you alright?"

Hermione nodded sheepishly. "I'm sorry, love. I just— suddenly, I couldn't breathe."

"Only you could seek relief from me, my dear," he said, his voice a low rumble. "As a bat, no less."

"I happen to adore bats," Hermione replied, snuggling into his chest. "What better than that we seem to be ones together at the moment?"

"Your blind acceptance is duly noted."

"You love it."

"No," Snape growled. "I love you. The difference is huge."

Hermione scoffed into his fur. "I approve of your fur."

"You're delusional."

"Mmph," she said, snuggling closer with a sigh of pure contentment.

Snape reluctantly removed his lovely cling-on as he remembered that Potter was staring at them. He lightly touched her cheek and gave her a slight but genuine smile.

Severus curled his lip, his pointed fangs flashing as he turned to face Harry once more. "What made you think Weasley was up to something?"

The spider box-feline victim squeak-wriggled, but was unable to move due a cougar happily sprawling out on top of him.

Harry attempted not to seem like a wibbling firstie under Snape's umbral gaze. "Ron said something about giving Hermione "a push into true love"— like his parents. Like my parents."

Snape's eyebrows furrowed. "Lily once absolutely hated your father," he said grimly. "She dismissed him as a useless toerag. And then, one day— only his touch could ease her anxiety, only he could understand her. She had already repudiated me, so every concern I might have had fell on deaf ears when she suddenly couldn't get enough of your father."

Harry paled, fighting the instinctive need to defend his parents' memory over the knowledge that Snape would never lie to him in front of Hermione, perhaps even not in front of Hermione.

"My mother didn't really love my father?"

"Not at first— no," Snape said quietly.

Harry looked down at his feet. "But— they did eventually love each other?"

Snape closed his eyes, sighing. "They seemed to. They seemed— happy enough. Their marriage was not unhappy, from what I saw of it. To me, they seemed to be sickeningly devoted to each other, and honestly, I did not wish to probe too deeply after Lily made it abundantly clear that she preferred Potter— your father— over me."

Harry winced.

Snape seemed to realise something as he felt Hermione snuggled into his side. "The timing was admittedly terrible, but whatever spell it could have been, it could not create something from a vacuum. It could only pressure the victim into needing another's presence to dissipate the uncomfortable physical symptoms. I have no doubt that Lily would have cursed Potter into a tuna and fed him to the giant squid before being forced into something completely contrary to her actual desires."

"If anything," Severus conceded, "their being forced into each other's company likely allowed her to find some redeeming quality within him that she would have otherwise ignored."

Harry seemed to find some comfort in that, even as he dispelled the spider-box costume on Ron, seized the other wizard by the collar, and slammed him hard into the bookshelf. "What the hell did you do, Ron?"

Ron spluttered, wriggling in his best mate's grasp like a spider caught in its own web. "I found it in that Quidditch book. From Sirius' old room!"

Harry's lips formed a thin, unforgiving line. "Found what?"

"A recipe, t-t-to ensure true love!"

Harry gasped as a raging cloud of darkness in the form of Severus Snape slammed into Ron, his wing pressed into Ron's throat until he choked.

"You put a spell on my wife to make her fall in love with you?"

"There is no way she ever married a bastard like you!" Ron coughed as he struggled to answer and breathe at the same time, neither of which were working at full capacity.

"I have the ring and the memories to prove it, Weasley," Snape snarled.

Hermione was trembling again, hugging herself tightly with a whimper.

Harry's face went from concern to unholy wrath even as Snape's went from unholy wrath to concern, and the two men switched places as Severus went to Hermione's side once more, pulling her against him in comfort.

She snuggled into him, breathing a sigh of profound relief. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, wife," Snape rumbled.

"Sir, I have a feeling that the cure for it— if my experience with similar curses in law enforcement is any indication—we'll leave you two, ah, alone for a bit. I'll seal the library off from the party guests," Harry said, shaking Ron by the collar. "And I'll deal with my mate here, personally."

"I do recall that Lily did seem more like herself after—" Snape scowled. "After the announcement of her pregnancy with you."

Harry coughed. "I truly respect you, sir, but I really don't want to think about you and Hermione making babies in my library. Um— so I'm going to go remove myself before I can't unsee it."

"Wut?!" Ron blurted. "You can't let that sodding bastard have his way with my 'Mione!"

"They're married, you ruddy idiot!" Harry yelled. "I was there! I was a witness! Kingsley performed the ceremony himself and it was beautiful. Now, we're leaving the room so they can break that damn curse without us watching!"

Harry frog-marched Ron out of the room, herding the not-quite-Kneazles out in front of him.

"Potter," Snape growled, even as he leaned in to nuzzle his wife.

"Sir?"

"Why don't you hang Weasley over there on the coat rack and let him contemplate his highly questionable life choices?"

Harry blinked, staring at the coat rack in question with a rather flummoxed expression before realisation set in. He paralysed Ron with a spell and hung him on the coat rack by his belt, pointing him in the direction of Snape and Hermione. "I'll, um— Yeah, I'll be in the kitchen making the mulled punch."

Harry beat a fast retreat as he closed the doors and warded it strongly.

And warded it.

And warded again.

And threw in a double-strength silencing charm.

And warded it again.

"My love," Severus purred, his tongue brushing against her lower lip in teasing pleasure. "I know we planned on having children in a year or so, but would you mind pushing up the schedule— in the interests of science?"

Hermione's eyes were full of lust. "Ohhhhh—" she gasped breathily as his mouth wrought tingles of ecstasy down her neck. "Gods, yes. Take me right here right on this settee. PLEASE!"

"As my most beautiful goddess commands," he rumbled, descending upon his wife with smug satisfaction.

Ron's eyes, frozen wide in horror, could do nothing but see his worst possible nightmare short of the zombie spider apocalypse, as he screamed silently.

As Severus bared his teeth in pleasure, he turned to the paralysed Ron. "I'll tell you a little secret, Mr Weasley. I was already a dungeon bat long before this, and consummation with conception is a—" Snape gave a dark chuckle. "Life-changing experience. We had agreed to hold off or a year or two, but it seems your little curse moved up the schedule."

Snape's smile was wicked. "How horrible for you. How wonderful for us."

Outside the library, Harry busily brewed the Halloween punch while listening to Def Leppard's Love Bites that was emitting from the enchanted portrait of Walburga Black(which was sporting big eighties hair and lip syncing to the lyrics with an utterly horrified expression on her face.)

"Hey, Harry," Ginny said, walking in with an overflowing basket of iced pumpkin biscuits and pasties. "What's with the Muggle music blaring through the house, love?"

As she passed into the kitchen, a round ball fell from a hidden "dispenser" on the door frame and transformed her into the Bride of Frankenstein.

Harry stirred the brewing punch a little more vigorously. "Just trying to distract my mind from what your idiot brother tried to do this morning."

Ginny frowned as she set down the basket. "Merlin, what now?" she groaned. "Ron's been talking like they were going to get back together for weeks now. I told him he was off his bloody gourd."

"Did you tell him they were married?" Harry asked.

Ginny winced. "I couldn't."

Harry dropped an orange into the punch without peeling it. "What do you mean you couldn't?"

"I just can't tell him. M-m-m-" Ginny punched the wall in frustration.

Now suspicious, Harry stuck the knife he was holding into a cheese wheel and pulled out his wand. He waved it over Ginny with a scowl on his face.

"Put your hand on top of your head if this is your mother's vow."

Ginny twitched, scowled, and then kicked a chair over.

"You've got to be kidding me, Gin. Molly made you take an Unbreakable Vow so you couldn't tell him?!"

Ginny snarled and wrote on the wall with her red lipstick, "Yes, Virginia there is a Santa Claus!" and underlined the yes about fifteen times for emphasis.

Kreacher gave Ginny a very put-out look as he snapped his fingers to make the lipstick writing disappear. He stormed off, grumbling a number of obscenities under his breath.

Ginny sighed, bashing an apple against the counter.

Harry's face twisted into a dark scowl. "I'm seriously considering passing on spending any holidays at the Burrow in the future."

"Actually, sod it. We're not going to spend any time at a house where your own mother puts her daughter under an Unbreakable Vow that could very well kill her for telling the truth." Harry slammed his hands down on the counter, and an avalanche of currants bounced down the marble surface in an attempt to escape.

Suddenly, the entire house shuddered violently, and a blast of highly energised magic blew by them in a tingling rush. Their eyes went wide together, and they suddenly found each other mighty interesting—

"Merlin, what the hell was that—" Ginny tugged at her collar as she practically pounced Harry. "Ohhh, Harrrry… "

She grabbed his head with both hands weaving in his hair as she initiated the snog of all snogs from the Land of Snog.

They barely made it up the stairs to the master bedroom with any of their clothes on, leaving a trail of ripped off clothing up the entire way as Kreacher looked out the scene with disgust as he snapped his fingers to mend and send them away to be laundered and returned later.

Much later.

Maybe after he'd had his own stiff drink.

Wave of Virulent Fertility Hits London as Olde Magick Blesses a Marriage

London was hit with a wave of Olde Magick blessed fertility from a founding of a new magically pure family that hasn't happened in so many years no one seems to be able to recall. The founding of the pureblood line of Snape was consummated sometime yesterday afternoon and left the undeniable blessing of fertility on the whole of magical London.

While many have forgotten why the pureblood families were held in such high regard, it was once a well-known fact that the founding of one blessed the Wizarding World with the guaranteed continuation of family lines as well as magical species— something ultimately priceless when survival was much harsher. It was because of this blessing that the pureblood families were considered sacred and unquestionably pure.

As for the blessed couple, Lord and Lady Snape have been occupied with a continuous onslaught of gifts, well-wishes, visitors, owls, and ooglers as well as a vast array of curse-breakers from the Department of Mysteries who are studying a curse that had been bestowed in Severus Snape's youth while still at Hogwarts and quite possibly reinforced and manipulated by none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.

Precisely what the curse is, however, has been kept under a need to know basis in the Wizengamot. It seems that whatever the curse may be or have been, it could have been countered by their magic-blessed Founding.

Auror Ronald Bilius Weasley Charged With the Use of a Forbidden Consummation Curse on Married Love Interest

Long-time Marriage Annulled After Weasley Matriarch Uses Unbreakable Vow on Her Own Daughter to Prevent Her From Foiling Youngest Brother's Proposal

Ginny shivered as she stepped out of Hermione's warm wing, suddenly feeling quite alone and naked without her friend's presence so close. Azkaban was hardly a place that anyone in their right mind ever wanted to visit, and Ginevra was not overly inclined to visit often all that often.

It was, however, Christmas— and at least once a year she tried to bear goodwill towards all, even her idiot brother and her manipulative cow of a mum.

The Vow had been all the proof the Wizengamot had needed to send her mum up the creek without a wand, paddle, or otherwise. It had been all her dad had needed to realise he hadn't really known his wife at all.

Her brother was, ironically, in the cell right next to their mum, having been found guilty of attempting to magically compel Hermione into consummating a relationship (and pregnancy) with him with the idea that she would then be forced to marry him before the Ministry if they were already magically married.

She could only thank the Wizengamot for having the wisdom to Obliviate all knowledge of the curse from Ronald's brain after burning the grimoire he'd found it in to ashes and scattering them to the four corners of Creation.

It was only pure luck that had brought Snape to Hermione's side before she'd seen Ron. Had the curse done what he desired, Hermione would have been driven to be in constant physical contact with her dastardly brother to keep herself from dying—

Had that happened, Ginny had no doubt whatsoever that Snape would have murdered Ron in cold blood to break the curse.

He might have rolled over and wallowed in woe as a teenager, but the adult Snape was a downright terrifying Dark wizard. No one doubted his ability to make even the most simple of things as agonising as he could, and Ron's death would have been as slow and tortuous as an ex-Death Eater could devise.

And Ron would have deserved the very worst that Snape could dish out as far as Ginny was concerned.

Hermione's love for the wizard was hard to accept, but it was genuine. Even Harry knew that. Ginny at least understood that Snape's voice was a weapon that could have been as seductive as verbal Amortentia when he wasn't dressing you down with it. Even then—

The full curse on Snape and Hermione, and Ginny still had a hard time calling the man anything but his last name, had at least allowed the pair to shift easily back and forth from human and bat-creature.

She wasn't sure exactly what they were supposed to be, but apparently the Marauders had thought Snape should look the part of a dungeon bat even back then. Dumbledore had used some sort of magic to modify the curse so Snape had a permanent glamour, and the list of sins just kept on growing.

Snape sniffed and Hermione yawned with a squeak, snuggling into her mate with her body and tucking herself into his winged embrace. The larger bat gave her a tender lick and allowed her affectionate snuggling.

It had been kind of them to escort her to Azkaban to visit her family. Harry, quite understandably, wanted absolutely nothing to do with either, but he understood that Ginny had a family tie to them and a history that had far more roots than Harry did. While Snape probably couldn't care less about Ginny, and she didn't fault him for that, he did care deeply about his mate's happiness. If Hermione wanted to ensure Ginny made it to and from Azkaban without incident, he would support her in it. That was good enough for Ginny.

He obviously loved Hermione enough to do good by her, and Hermione was obviously more than happy.

Ginny pulled her winter cloak closer around her. Even without the Dementors, Azkaban was an extremely cold and forbidding place. Kingsley had made changes, making it so the cells were furnished to a livable state with actual beds, sinks, showers, and the toilet, but he didn't make it a hotel by any means.

The cells were warmed or cooled sufficiently, but the halls were intentionally kept as frigid or as stifling as the natural weather outside. While the guards had decorated the main lobby and reception area to appear more welcoming and "homey," walking into the cell and prisoner areas was a stark contrast. She found it somewhat disheartening to think that before Kingsley had improved the conditions that Azkaban cells had only a stone floor, a bare bunk, and the striped suits— oh, and the Dementors.

Ronald and her mum had been placed in the "lesser offence-single incident" cell block for crimes that didn't involve a dead body or a conspiracy to create one. Ron, at least in her opinion, barely skated by that one if only because Lord and Lady Snape were satisfied that his being in Azkaban at all would punish him effectively. As for her mum— fortunately Ginny hadn't died attempting to find a way around the Vow or dear old mum would have been in the deep, dark cell block that never saw the light of day.

Thank Merlin her Harry had puzzled that out right quick.

The lesser offence cell block allowed for a limited number of visitors during specifically designated holidays, and Christmas was one of them. It was the holiday most often linked to "goodwill towards all" and even the Ministry seemed to believe that if family members wanted to take time out of their Christmas to visit someone in Azkaban, well, it certainly wasn't going to stand in the way.

Ginny sighed and walked up to the two cells, nodding to the guard on duty as he took her parcels, looked through them, and scanned them thoroughly with his wand. He nodded to her politely and went back on his watch. It had been done already at the front area, but Ginny didn't mind. It wasn't like she was smuggling in a digging spoon or something equally ludicrous.

She placed the package through the bars of each cell, pausing between it to give the guard a small cloth-wrapped bundle of homemade Christmas biscuits and tarts. Even the guards needed some love— especially so if they were working through the holiday.

The guard nodded his thanks, smiling appreciatively, and Ginny smiled back.

Her brother snatched the package greedily, tearing into it and devouring the insides without pausing. He rarely if ever said anything to her anymore, and Ginny couldn't really be bothered by it. She actually preferred it to his nonstop belly-aching. Perhaps, she mused, he realised that she didn't have to bring him anything at all, and that keeping his mouth shut was the better side of valour.

Her mum however reached a hand out to take her hand, and Ginny allowed it. She was still her mum, and Molly had shown many signs of feeling genuine regret for what she had done— especially when she realised she had practically given Ronald her blessing to do whatever it took to "secure the right witch."

There was a chance, however slight, that with good behaviour her mum would be released on parole, but there was the issue of not having a husband, family, or a way to provide for herself if she did leave. Harry had made it clear that Molly was not welcome in their home, and the rest of the Weasley clan wasn't exactly running up to volunteer either.

Ronald, on the other hand, had something even worse waiting for him should he be released from Azkaban: paternity suits from many of the witches he'd happily sown his oats with before deciding that Hermione was the one to marry. Ginny had made it clear Ronald wasn't allowed back in their home and around their future children, and Harry had firmly agreed.

"Happy Christmas, mum," Ginny said.

She sat down on the visitors' stool and kept holding her mum's hand.

She stayed with her until her mum finally slept, and she asked the guard to please move her back to her bed where she could rest more comfortably. By the time she left, the sun was already starting to peek through the clouds on the horizon. Hermione enfolded her with a wing and drew her close, and she could smell the sharp scent of spice and fur.

Ginny felt the warding drop on the Apparition point, and she felt the gathering of magic just before the crack carried them off together.

Hermione yawned and snuggled into Severus' chest as their bat-shapes fell away. As cozy as it was being a dungeon bat creature, beds seemed so much more comfortable as a human. Then, there was the joy of snuggling under a warm duvet and being on the receiving end of her mate's dutiful affections.

Mrrr.

Yes, please.

Whatever curse the Marauders had intended to give Severus, she was glad that ultimately magic had other plans for them. While he had, technically, shared his curse with her, their blessing of magic had turned it into a gift, and her acceptance of her mate in both his forms had healed something in Severus he hadn't realised he needed until it no longer pained him.

Yet, he told her often that it wasn't that alone that had given him hope for the kind of life with a fine witch that cared for him as much as he did for her, no. That, he confessed, had been when she had saved his life— not for some hidden crush or noble reason but that she valued his life like all life. Later, when she'd accepted a position at Hogwarts as Arithmancy teacher, knowingly working under him, he had realised that children grow up and it was about time he did too— letting go of the past to embrace his unknown future.

She didn't see that way, really.

She saw him as the unsung hero, a stabilising force, a keystone to the end of the war. He deserved a life free of servitude to make his own choices, good or bad and deal with them without the looming two masters and cartload of guilt from a bygone time.

That she had come to care for him in their quiet moments— meeting him on evening patrols in the halls, she because of duty and him because of habit. He'd patrolled the halls for far longer than she, after all.

Their relationship had sneaked up on them both. One day, they just couldn't imagine their life without the other.

Severus' proposal was perhaps the one of most awkward moments that had ever occurred in Hogwarts— the ring having fallen into the holiday pudding when a clumsy Hagrid had stumbled into the Head Table and sent bowls and platters of food flying everywhere.

Poor Flitwick had swallowed the ring—

Madam Pomfrey had to do some creative spellwork, but she hadn't even known what to do when the Headmaster hadn't been able to articulate exactly what it was that Flitwick had swallowed right in front of Merlin and everyone.

Gods, what a bloody mess.

They could laugh at it now, of course, but at the time the tongue-tied master Slytherin always-able-to-say-the-right-jibe couldn't even put two coherent words together.

Not to mention that Hermione's engagement ring had just been fished out of Flitwick's unhappy digestive tract even as Severus had been caught out without a shred of deniability that it was his—

A brassed-off Flitwick had subsequently cursed Hagrid's chair to buck him off like a cranky hippogriff for over a week— amongst other things.

Even Hogwarts Herself had decided to pitch in and make doors suddenly close in his face, smack him in the rear when he wasn't facing it, then close when he was, as well as trapping him on the moving staircases whenever he dared use them.

The hippogriffs were roaming the green, their fences broken, but when he went to chase them down they were inexplicably back in their paddocks—

Then there were the owls, which took an unholy glee in dive-bombing Hagrid and decorating his person with their droppings from the moment he emerged from his hut in the morning.

The centaurs were taking extra smelly dumps right on Hagrid's front porch— mind you, they'd been doing that for quite some time since Grawp had been forced into their forest home. Still, the list of slights against Hagrid had only grown.

Hermione privately admitted that she wasn't terribly thrilled to let a ring that had been sitting in Flitwick's stomach touch her finger, and it had taken Severus over a week to convince her it had been Scourgified to death before she even took him seriously.

That had earned an already miserable Hagrid yet another week of pain, suffering, and woe.

Even then, she had given Severus all the wary suspicion he deserved. She couldn't be the one, after all—

Not her.

Surely that beautiful ring was meant for someone else.

"Who else would this be for, Miss Granger?"

"Not me!" she squeaked.

"Of all the— Miss Granger, I'm asking you to marry me!"

"You're wrong!"

"What? What do you mean I'm wrong?"

"You're befuddled. I'm just a nobody. You couldn't possib-MMFFPH!"

Hermione had to confess that he was an amazing kisser.

Still was too.

Mmm…

More than a little amazing.

She admitted that even if she had been forced to live out her life as a dungeon bat full time, it would have been well worth it. He'd trusted her with his cursed secret. He was kind, awkwardly so, under all the defensive snark and snap-response bitterness. He was tender, almost adorably jealous over silly things he had no real reason to be jealous over— he admitted that it was like learning how to act all over again.

"I'm not used to having someone interested in me, Miss Granger," he confessed over the ramparts. "Less so someone I care for very much in return."

"Do I need to be jealous?" she'd asked.

"Hardly," he said, his eyebrows furrowing. "I seem to be a rather single-minded individual."

She touched his cheek. "Tch, Severus," she replied. "You needn't ever worry."

"Weasley," he said, his eyes closing.

"I'm pretty sure was an unhealthy moment of hormonal stupidity that had nothing to do with intelligence on my part."

Snape snorted. "Perhaps, we are not so different in our— unfortunate past obsessions."

He touched her hair, brushing it back behind her ears. "There is something you must know about me, Hermione," he said solemnly.

"Well, now I know you're serious. You didn't call me Miss Granger."

Severus huffed, exhaling softly. "I was cursed as a teen. An alleged— boyish prank." He laughed without humour. "It turned out to be unexpectedly life-altering. Permanent. This—"

He gestured to himself. "Is a glamour."

"You really don't look like an intimidating spectre?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Human, more like."

He took her hands in his. "I would never hurt you, Hermione, but you must know what I truly am before you— get too attached. I care for you. More than anything, but if you even think you wish to be close to me, then you must know the truth."

"Severus, I care for you too. I wouldn't ever give up on you because of a curse."

"You might change your mind."

"I wouldn't."

"You thought I was trying to kill Potter."

"I was twelve."

"So you can change your mind."

"Severus, I promise I won't. What is it that you think I'd flee so easily?"

Snape was silent.

"Just tell me," she pleaded.

Snape stood back from her, the wind from the ramparts billowing his black woolen robes. He tapped one of his buttons and it glowed. His body shimmered as great wings unfolded from his back and his human form transformed into that of a humanoid bat. His muzzle twisted into a snarl.

His breath steamed from his mouth and nostrils like smoke from a dragon.

Hermione's eyes widened.

Snape turned his head, closing his eyes in pain.

"You're amazing," Hermione whispered, her hands touching his muzzle and stroking the soft fur. "Wait, does that mean I actually set you on fire first year if the clothing is a glamour?"

Severus' eyes stared into hers, a soft squeak escaping his mouth.

"Oh my G— I set you on FIRE!" she cried. "I am SO sorry!"

Severus snapped. "Woman, I am trying to tell you I'm a monster, and all you can do is say you're sorry for setting me on fire?!"

"Well, I am sorry!"

"That's hardly the appropriate response!"

"The proper response is to apologise!"

"You're supposed to throw something at me and scream and tell me to never come near you agai—MPHF!"

As it turned out, kissing an anthropomorphic bat-creature wasn't really that much different from kissing a man. He had a very, very talented tongue.

And his wings?

They were so incredibly warm.

Who knew?

He admitted later that she had made a rather convincing argument.

Repetitively.

After much scientific testing, the hypothesis had officially become a theory: Hermione wasn't going anywhere, and Severus was going to have to consider the reality of a possible future with a witch who wasn't inclined to flinging random objects at his person whilst screaming like a banshee.

"Mmmm," Hermione hummed in pleasure as her snuggly mate found his own pleasure in affixing himself to her neck as his hands roamed lower to tease her interest. "Severus," she purred.

"Yes, love," he rumbled into her neck, his mouth creating just enough suction to send shivers down her spine and make her toes curl— his voice adding just a bit more.

"Did you know the twins created a new craze?"

"Merlin, what now?" Severus grumbled.

"A puntable marmot that spews random quotes in Ronald's voice when you, um—"

"Punt them?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Remind me to send them a nice biscuit assortment." He captured her hands in his as he positioned himself over her. "Now, if you are quite through with trying to inject Weasley drama into our sex life—" His voice took on the sinfully dark tone of his professorial demeanour.

Hermione shuddered in instinctive response. "Nngggggh. I'm really going to miss this."

"Miss it?" He turned her face to look at him. "Whyever would you miss it?"

"I'm hardly sexy when I'm the size of a ruddy barn."

Severus snorted. "Don't be ridiculous." He caressed her cheek. "You're carrying our child in there. Ours. You have no idea how unbelievably sexy that is to me." His rumbling voice seemed to move through her, and she flushed with desire.

Hermione gasped as he expertly removed all coherent thought from her mind but him, him, and ohhhhh… him.

Hermione pulled him down on top of her, her breath heavy with desire. "I love you."

"You poor, deluded, beautiful witch," he whispered, looking into her eyes with a softened expression. "I fear that I love you too, and it is a permanent affliction."

"Woe is me," Hermione replied warmly, her eyes filled with affection. "However long shall our lives be forced to share each other's all-encompassing passion?"

Severus' smile was utterly wicked, a hint of his pointed teeth flashing. "Why forever, of course."

Hermione squealed with delight as her husband demonstrated a little taste of forever.

Far, far away, in the Afterlife…

James and Sirius peered through the great windows that gave glimpses into the world of the living— if only the people they had left behind and had influenced in some way. They watched in abject horror as the image of an aged Harry Potter fishing at a lake, having retired from a successful career, shifted into the vision of Snivellus cuddling with a young and quite beautiful bushy-haired witch.

A visibly pregnant witch.

A large family moved in and out of the window frame, growing up and moving on, making their own mark on the world.

"You fucking made him immortal?!" James yelled at Sirius.

"You said you wanted him to be tortured forever!" Sirius yelled back.

"Does that look tortured to you?" James retorted.

"How was I supposed to know that some witch would be stupid enough to love that greasy git?!"

"What do you mean by that?" Lily's voice broke in to their argument. Her face was as red as her hair and suffused with fury. She pointed at the window that showed Severus flowing into his bat form and his mate joining him as they flew into the night sky, a young batling frantically trying to keep up with mum and dad. "You turned Sev into a monster? You told me it was just a story. You told me it was a LIE!"

"Love, it was just a prank—"

"He told me—" Lily said in a harsh whisper. "He pleaded with me to believe him, and I didn't. I believed you!"

"Lily—"

"I believed Dumbledore."

"Love, please."

Lily's inherent magic lashed out and zapped them both, her rage and will stronger than any wand.

Poof!

Pop!

James Potter and Sirius Black now shared a small terrarium as two gobsmacked-looking hermit crabs.

"I can't even stand to look at you," Lily said, sniffling as she stormed off into the greyscape of the Afterlife. "I'm going to go be reincarnated. Without you."

James and Sirius remained trapped in their shared terrarium, forced to watch in detail and repeat the "cursed" rise of the name Snape— pillars of Hogwarts, successful potioneers, loving marriage, beloved children, and a long, long perfectly healthy unaging life.

They truly did live happily ever after.

Always.

"Living well is the best revenge." — George Herbert

A/N: My thanks to the sleepy The Dragon and the Rose who did her best to stay up and beta this fic to the end before sleep dragged her off into oblivion.