A/N: Gift fic trade with thepurplewombat.

Prompt: Snape has got scars from the Shrieking Shack incident. How does that affect him?

Beta: FawkesyLady, kicking and screaming.

Cupcakes by Moonlight

One meets his destiny often in the road he takes to avoid it

Proverb

Snape woke with frosting on his face—his nose to be exact. It looked like he'd wiped his face in a bakery cake.

Really? Frosting?

He grumbled, hauling himself up from the floor where his alter-ego had made a den out of pillows and light furniture.

Severus sighed, rubbing the crick in his neck as he grabbed for the potion on his—bother where was it?

Stupid wolf. Stupid Lupin. Stupid teenage curiosity. Stupid Sirius Black. Damn him to hell and back, thank you very much.

He commenced to dig around for the potion he knew was in the room when he realised with bewilderment that the accommodation he was in was not the room he had started in.

"Sodding wonderful," Snape cursed, realising that not only had he missed his Wolfsbane potion thanks to a badly timed meeting with a client, but apparently the wolf had let himself out to gambol without his approval.

Yet, when he looked over his body for the tell-tale signs of lupine nocturnal antics, he did not see anything, at least on his body.

Well, there was the icing on his face. The hell?

He sighed, knowing he was in trouble without his wand. That was safely tucked away back home—the home he should not have been able to escape during his moonlit crusade.

Taking a bit of torn fabric from a ruined cushion, he used it to wipe his face clean of the offensive white frosting. As part of it touched his tongue, he realised it was cream cheese frosting—the homemade kind.

Gods, it smelled divine. It tasted like the ambrosia of the gods.

It took every bit of self control not to lick his fingers clean.

As he pulled himself off the floor, he realised he had a problem. It was a normal problem after a full moon—seeing as the change destroyed every shred of clothing he'd ever tried to wear no matter how he enchanted it. What made this problem extra horrible was that he was in an unknown place—a house somewhere—completely starkers.

He could try Apparating without his wand. There were much harder things he'd done without his wand, after all: survive an entire war as the spy for Dumbledore while somehow keeping it secret that he was also a werewolf, for example. Attacking Lupin the-idiot-who-couldn't-be-bothered-to-take-his-potion to keep Potter and his sidekicks safe while in wolf-form was a close second. Why was it always Lupin that seemed to be the tick in his side?

True, the werewolf's superior healing did keep him from dying to Nagini's love bites, if love was measured in murderous intent. Chalk one up on Lupin for gifting him survival against an overgrown homicidal python.

Subtract a few hundred points for every other thing Lupin had done to curse his life since that night at the Shrieking Shack, like condemning him to share the Shack with Lupin until they graduated—

He had to admit that it had been cathartic to learn that Potter, Black, and Pettigrew had been caught as unregistered Animagi. That had happened shortly after the night they came to "set free Moony" to romp the moors together only to find there was not just one werewolf but two in the shack. Lupin, having lost the dominance fight thanks to Snape's overwhelming rage, had been in no condition to defend his friends from Snape's angry, wrathful fangs and claws.

Snape had almost massacred them, having relieved Pettigrew of his right leg and left foot, slashed open an artery in Black's leg that had him walking with a permanent limp even after Poppy Pomfrey had tended him, and ripped an antler right off Potter's stag head. All of this he found out later from school gossip. He'd woken up in the infirmary under Madam Pomfrey's care.

Perhaps, Snape thought, had they realised what they would create in infecting him with lycanthropy, they would have thought better of setting him up to be murdered by werewolf.

Regardless, that had put an end to their romps on the green by moonlight. They couldn't get Lupin out without Snape, and Snape's hatred of them transferred to the wolf in spades. There was also the fact the Ministry made them wear suppression collars for their Animagus abilities as publishment for not registering in the first place—to be removed upon graduation, provided they paid a hefty registry fee.

Lupin was stuck with Snape for companionship in the shack. At least with two werewolves together, they didn't feel the need to break out and bite more people.

Small favours.

Sadly, being forced to stay indoors only afforded James more time to spend trying to woo Lily, and much to Snape's dismay, she'd ended up married to the man who had always been the "toe-rag" up until the day he was magically not.

Dumbledore kept the three Gryffindor sworn under a wizard oath not to reveal Snape's condition, but that had not stopped them from tormenting him in the normal ways. It was made all the worse with their bitter vengeance that his wolf had literally taken bites out of them. By the time he was hanging upside down from the tree, his rage had built to a explosive climax, and he'd let slip the one word Lily could not forgive.

Perhaps, he thought, it was better that she never knew he had become a werewolf. Then again, if that fact had come out, maybe she wouldn't have ended up married to Potter.

Cursing at himself for wool gathering, he grabbed a scrap of pillow to cover his privates and walked towards the door. As he came closer, he noticed a table, pristine with a large bowl, pitcher, and washcloth much like he had at Hogwarts.

Was this for him?

He looked around, confused and suspicious. There was a bathrobe, dangling invitingly from a nearby hook. It was even black instead of that ubiquitous white and fluffy rubbish.

Damn it all—

He washed up in the basin and put on the robe. Better to ask forgiveness than show up naked and have to explain himself with his cock hanging out like a Neanderthal.

As he walked up the small staircase, he froze when heard voices.

"Remus, I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine."

"Hermione, Ronald told me that you just went out walking last night. It's not safe."

Snape could hear the ice in the witch's voice—ice and venom.

"You tell Ronald he can mind his own business after the stunts he's pulled. He's lost the right to care about what I do and when."

"Hermione, please. I know you're an independent woman, but there was a werewolf loose last night!"

"Remus, I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, Hermione, but don't you think taking night walks on full moons is a little heedless of danger?"

"That's rich coming from you."

Silence, thick as refrigerated butter, dropped with equal mass.

"What do you mean?" Remus' voice was careful, suspicious.

"Third year, Professor," Hermione said. "You neglected to take your wolfsbane potion and you turned in front of three terrified children and tried to murder them. Even without that, your transformation distracted everyone just enough that Peter Pettigrew escaped, making all hope of Harry being able to have a family outside the horrible Dursleys go up in smoke. Because of you, Harry lost his family for the second time. Because of you, we almost died. Had you not done what you did, Sirius wouldn't have been stuck in Grimmauld Place giving Buckbeak a bath the night Harry frantically flooed praying he wasn't at the Ministry only to be told by Kreacher that he wasn't there. And then, Sirius wouldn't have run in to save him only to fall into the Veil. So, excuse me for not humouring you as you admonish me for wishing to enjoy an evening stroll on a public street because there might be werewolves romping around. There might be serial killers. There might be a drunk driver. There might be falling space debris!"

Severus could hear Remus' jaw tightening, the telltale grate of enamel against enamel.

He heard Remus' nostrils flare as he scented the air, his wolf so close to the surface, but he sneezed suddenly.

All Severus could smell was frosting, Severus realised. Cream cheese frosting, to be exact. He hoped the scent was all over the house to cover up his lurking.

"You cannot blame me for everything, Hermione," Remus' voice altered, become lower, gruff. A growl in his voice suggested that Remus was fading against the wolf. The moon was still full, and would be so again tonight.

Severus, despite his being in a bathrobe that wasn't even his, was about to storm up the stairs and put Lupin in his place, but he heard Hermione stand. The very air seemed to crackle with her magic. "This is my home. This is my sanctuary, and I will not feel threatened here of all places. Do not blame your wolf for what you have given it permission."

Remus swallowed audibly, a soft almost imperceptible whine escaping his throat. "The wolf is dangerous, Hermione."

"No, Remus. You are dangerous." Hermione's voice was flat, even. "You are dangerous because you expect the wolf to be, and you never see yourself as the same being. You spend so much time trying to prove you are better than Fenrir Greyback. Greyback spends his time trying to prove he is more wolf than man. Neither of you accept that you both bound by the same life, so you both turn on the moon and vent your frustration on innocents."

"Hermione, I've been a werewolf since I was child," Lupin said. "If there was a way to purge the wolf, I would have found it by now."

Hermione scoffed. "Therein lies why you will never succeed."

"Teddy has been hearing about your walks and wants to know why he can't do the same!" Lupin blurted.

The silence made the rush of blood in Snape's arteries sound like a roar in his head.

"It's Ronald, isn't it?" Her voice was cold. "He's blaming ol' Mione for everything. What else does he blame me for in front of Teddy?"

Lupin was stammering over his words.

"Look, Remus," Hermione's voice broke in. "I understand you rely a lot on the Weasley's to help you with Teddy since Nymphadora died. I get it. I do. But do not use me as a reason for not having a truthful conversation with your son about why he can't see his father on full moons. He deserves to know the truth."

"He's too young to know the truth."

Hermione let her breath pass out her nose in a huff. "You're going to be late for work. I'm sure your boss will be patiently waiting for a reason."

"What? Oh, shite!" Lupin cursed as he rushed out the door.

The door slammed.

Severus heard her crack her neck.

"You can come out of hiding," she said, her voice weary. "I'm sorry you had to hear all that."

Caught like a deer in the headlights, Severus found himself stiffly walking up the stairs.

"Miss Granger," he said awkwardly.

"I meant to get you some robes before you woke up, but my unexpected guest kept me occupied." Hermione gave him a tight smile. "And, he drank your tea. Thankfully, there is more." She headed over to the kettle where a tea cozy the shape of an elephant covered the kettle. "Mum made it. She and dad went to Africa. They have a goal to see every continent on Earth."

Severus stood at the doorway, gobsmacked at her casual-down-to-earthedness. Was that even a word? He admonished himself.

She set the tea down on the table. "There is a chair, unless you prefer to stand there in the door like a window dressing."

As he approached, he startled as she brandished a wand in front of him.

"Here, you can use my wand to transfigure the robe into something more—you."

Snape, knowing how intimate it was to use another's wand, slowly took the vine wand in his hand. He could feel the wand's recognition that he was not its mistress. Yet, it still warmed to him, allowing him to transfigure his robe into his normal bleak attire. "Thank you," he said, thrusting the wand out to her as if afraid that holding it too long might be construed as something obscene.

Hermione lifted a curious eyebrow as she took the wand back, tucking it into her sleeve.

Snape found himself sitting in the chair, feeling like an child in detention, sipping his tea as he waited for the hammer to fall.

Hermione was busy making a fry up, and the scent of tomatoes, beans, eggs, back bacon, potatoes, and bangers combined together into heaven on Earth in Snape's overly sensitized nose.

Before he could say a word, Hermione placed a large plate before him.

Forest mushrooms! Fried bread!

Gods, this woman—

He wanted to shove his face into it and forgo any and all sense of common manners. Somehow, he remembered to pick up a fork and knife like a civilised heathen.

She sat down across the table and set down her own plate.

"Thank you," Severus said. He stared at his plate of food, unable to pull on his normally razor sharp command of the Queen's English.

"I'd try it before thanking me. It might kill you," Hermione said, digging in to the eggs.

Snape's head jerked up, his brows knitting together.

"I'm kidding. Please. Eat."

How did I end up here? How is Granger so calm? Does she know? How could she? How—

"You needn't worry," Hermione said as she sipped her tea. "I won't tell anyone."

Snape's eyes widened into saucers. She knew. Of course she did. How could she not—but how was she so calm about it?

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sure you're confused right now. I forget that things are different for you. Remus..."

"Lupin," the name came out as a curse. His loathing hung about the name that caused his wolf to raise its hackles.

Lupin was a submissive—and Snape was wrath incarnate. His wolf was a channel for all the rage he could never show any other way. Lupin must have found a way to blab. That had to be how she knew. That was how—

Snape pushed the food away and stood, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. "Lupin spill his guts to you? Try to get you to stay away? Warn you of the danger, huh? But you didn't listen, did you, Ms Granger? You think I'm some pathetic charity case!"

He was snarling. His wolf was angry—clawing at the inside of him. Biting. Scratching. Gnawing at his flesh.

Hermione stood, her lips parted only slightly, but elongated canine teeth flashed as golden yellow crept into her whisky brown eyes.

Her scents—gods, her scent—was like earthy loam and forest paths lined with damp moss. "I pity no one, Professor. I make no excuses for myself or my sheltering you. I did it because I wanted to, and I needed no other reason."

Severus froze in place, and for the first time, he lowered his eyes, drooping his shoulders. His wolf stopped clawing frantically. He could sense it, ears swivelled, nose twitching. Calming.

Calm?

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." He didn't, he realised. It wasn't a lie. Why had he been so quick to anger?

Then it hit him—

"You—"

Hermione scoffed, shaking her head. She gave a shrug as if to shake away droplets of water. "How easy it is for you to see what the others are too blinded in their protection to see what is right in front of them." She gestured to his cooling food. "Do you plan to eat, or are we still posturing for for dominance?"

Severus sat, pulling his plate towards himself and successfully applied a fork and knife.

"How?" The question was only one word and about as eloquent as a brick through a glass window.

Hermione stabbed a banger with her fork and chewed on it.

"Bellatrix Lestrange decided it would be entertaining to have me chained with Fenrir Greyback in the same room. She figured if the threat of being ravaged by a werewolf didn't loosen my tongue—nothing would." Hermione eyes glowed with a golden fire. But she had just tortured the life out of me. Fenrir bit me, but I didn't react. I didn't scream anymore. I didn't move. I wasn't any—fun. She carved my arm with Mudblood to cover up her—error. I was bleeding anyway, of course. What was one more bleeding wound from a cursed knife?"

Snape's eyes grew wide. Bellatrix' sadism was second to none. Even the Dark Lord seemed strangely calm in comparison. The only restraining force Bellatrix had was the Dark Lord himself—and the fear she maydisplease him. Killing Hermione would have displeased him—if for any reason but it serving to kick Potter into action sooner instead of later. "But—you told Remus you went for a walk last night."

"It was not a lie, Professor. I simply did not say in what shape I walked."

"But—the madness. The hunger. The need to bite—"

"Self-fulfilling prophecy," Hermione said. "The night of the full moon after—after Harry had won, after the school lay in ruins, my wolf, as you would say, and I came to an agreement. I was dying—lost. My parents were in Australia—Obliviated by my own hand to save their lives. Harry was a hero. Ronald was the hero's best mate. Yet, all I could see were the dead and dying—the spirits of living passing into the world beyond. I slipped away, fully intending to change out there between the bodies of the dead and expected to get caught feasting."

"The wolf gave me another option," Hermione said. "To serve its Lord and give meaning to where I had none."

Severus was deathly silent.

"It's fine if you don't believe. I wouldn't have had it not happened to me personally," Hermione said. Her plate was clean, and she had already stood to clean it in the dish water. The odour of lemon-scented dish soap wafted toward him, and then she—gasp—rinsed the plates. How very—modern and utterly un-British!

Hermione seemed to read his mind. "I'd rather not eat my soap, thank you very much—or the remnants of whatever might be in the water. Did you know some of the soaps have formaldehyde in them? I don't really fancy pickling my brain this early in life. If that makes me un-British, well I guess I really never did belong anywhere." She gave him a wry look, eyebrow cocked with a familiar look he recognised.

Oh, right. His own.

Her parents were dentists—it really shouldn't have surprised him that Hermione Granger actually rinsed her dishes after their soapy dip.

His heart beat a little faster. It could be love.

Impossible.

With Granger?

He was positively ancient, and she—

Beautiful.

Fiery.

Independent.

Self-assured.

Merlin's sodding sagging balls. What the hell am I thinking?!

"Why did you save me, then?" he asked, digging his nails into his palms to distract him from the fullness of her lips. Shite, don't look at them.

Those delicate pointed incisors. Fuck. What the hell is wrong with you, Severus?

Hermione looked at him with a sad expression. "I owed you one, and to be utterly truthful, I missed you."

"Owed? Missed?" Severus felt he was missing something. Something profound. "How could you? You owe me nothing."

"I keep forgetting—you do not remember." Hermione seemed defeated, more so than ever she had been facing Lupin.

He could smell her loneliness, and it hit him in the gut. His wolf whined and growled inside, clawing, gnawing for his attention to make things right. Somehow. Someway.

"The night Professor Lupin transformed—I thought he had taken his wolfsbane potion. I addressed him as a Professor Lupin, but he was not home. Sirius had tried to stop him from attacking, but Harry was too busy wailing that Peter had gotten away. He attacked—and you, Professor. You saved us. You tore him to pieces, giving us time to run."

"You could not possibly have known it was me," Severus said.

Hermione smiled. "Not until the next day, when you came in paler than usual. Scratched. More annoyed. More angry. You gave us the reading about werewolves that term. I did not see that as—random."

"How could you tell that when I was always annoyed and angry?"

Hermione smiled. "I paid more attention to you than you might think, Professor."

She opened up a cabinet and pulled out what looked like a spice rack, only it held small potion vials of individual doses. "There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class."

She looked at him with a sad eyes. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for the select few… who possess the predisposition—"

"I can teach you how to bottle fame." She placed a bright glittering green potion on the table.

"Brew glory." She placed a shimmering crimson potion on the desk.

"And even put a stopper on death." A dark, mirror like potion swished in a crystal vial. The Draught of Living Death crafted by an expert hand. Silver flecks of magic swirled with the potion, the mark of a Master—it was something one could not teach. It was magic of the maker infusing the potion to make it more powerful.

That alone was impressive enough, but there were other phials, each labeled with an ornate quilled hand: Antivenin for supernaturally imbued and cursed snakes, Felix Felicis, memoria reficiat, tenebris palearum—"

Lex de Saltu?

"Law of the Jungle?" Severus asked.

Hermione's mouth curved into a small, tight smile. "Now this is the law of the jungle, as old and as true as the sky, and the wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the wolf that shall break it must die. As the creeper that girdles the tree trunk, the law runneth forward and back; for the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack."

"Kipling." Snape said quietly.

"Indeed."

"But what is it?"

"It calms the wolf's craving for companionship in werewolves who attempt to attack humans, effectively. "

"So, all of them—"

Hermione's lips twitched. "Most. I think I finally have it down to a one dose formulae that can be taken the night of the change, but I have yet to test it on a 'normal' werewolf. Ideally, it would allow the human to come to terms with the wolf—open the door to communication."

"There is no reasoning with the beast."

Hermione put the phials back into the rack and put it away, saying nothing more.

"There is no reasoning with the stubborn, either," she said quietly. "I suppose it cannot be helped. You can't help those who do not want to change."

"You can't be serious," Severus accused, his words having regained the sharp edge of his teaching days under the time of Dumbledore. "No one who is a werewolf wants to be that way unless they are mental like Fenrir."

Hermione straightened. For a moment her teeth parted, and there was a flash of fang—so quick it may have never been there at all. Perfectly white. Expertly flossed.

He wanted to throw himself at her feet and grovel upon her—disturbingly fluffy blue hippogriff slippers—begging her forgiveness for his, well himself.

What the hell is wrong with you, Severus? He demanded internally.

The wolf was throwing itself against his fleshy prison, snarling, whining, demanding to be free.

He crumpled in pain, clutching his stomach. It feels too real, he realised.

Hermione was at the kettle again, and she poured him some tea. He saw her pull a vial out from her robes and dropper something in. She set it down and pushed it towards him. "Here, it will make you feel better."

Her hand brushed against his and the pain in him instantly ceased. He could feel the wolf pressing against his inside as it tried to emerge to feel her touch.

Severus grit his teeth. "What did you put in this?" he demanded.

Hermione's brows furrowed. "Honey from my apiaries."

His hand was lightning fast as he clutched her hand tightly, squeezing so hard her bones popped. "Don't. Lie. To. Me."

Hermione stared him down, her expression turning impassive as stone. She lifted the cup of tea and drank it down in one swoop. "I. Don't. Lie. As you were so fond of telling me as a student. I couldn't lie if I wanted to."

Hermione's hand jerked in his, the bones shifting, realigning, and forming into something alien and inhuman. Snape dropped her hand like a burning pan. He stared at her hand—or what had been a hand—and saw fur, pads, and elongated digits with claws protruding from the ends of her fingertips. Before his eyes, they transformed back into a human hand.

"I can see this was a mistake," Hermione said, her brown eyes having taken on a golden fire. "You have my apologies for interfering between you and whatever relationship you do or do not have with your wolf. It's obvious that you and your wolf do not speak."

"Why do you even care what my wolf may or may not think?" he hissed at her. He was angry for reasons he couldn't even put words to. If his wolf self had been remotely intelligent, he would have known!

Hermione shook her head. "You're asking the wrong question."

"And what question is it that I should miraculously know to ask?"

"What is the job charged to me by the Lord of Wolves?"

Snape narrowed his eyes. "I'll humour you. What is the job bestowed upon you by some fantastic Lord of Wolves?"

Hermione's expression was sad.

His vision was blurring as if mist was carrying everything away.

"I provide succor for lost souls who waver between life and death that they may choose which world they wish to fight for. Every death is Ragnarök, but every life leads to it. The battle you choose—must be yours to make. I can only show you possibilities, paths to uncertain futures. This—was a possible ending or a beginning."

"Why do you even care?" he demanding, trying to fight his way back through the fog.

"As I said," Hermione said, her glowing eyes starting to fade in the fog. "I both owed you and for the most selfish of reasons."

"What reason!?" he yelled into the encroaching mist.

"I love you."

Her words caused a sob to rise in his throat as as possible future was shown to him as vivid as any memory.

"Don't go tonight, Severus, please," Hermione said.

"I have to," he said, his expression haunted. "This is the night she died. I must go."

"Please, I have a bad feeling. Go tomorrow. Please." Hermione's voice trembled.

"This is the night. Tomorrow wouldn't be the same."

"I love you," Hermione whispered. Her hand went to her abdomen.

Severus put a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be back. I promise."

"Do you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Always," he replied.

"Told you he would be here tonight, eh?" a voice said.

"You were right. I owe you twenty galleons."

"So now what? He's all paralysed."

"We're going to teach him that no one touches Mione but me," the voice replied.

A head of red hair came into view as the face of Ron Weasley stared down at him.

"Greasy git thinks he can waltz in and break up my wedding and not pay? I'm going to make sure she miscarries, and when she comes crying on my shoulder because you left her, I'm going to be there to make things right."

A kick.

Another.

"Crucio!"

Snape's eyes sought the crescent moon. The moon's fullness wouldn't save him this time.

"Oh, I think you'll remember this one, Snape," Ron's voice jeered. "Sectumsempra!"

Snape's body spasmed as the spell cut through him. He tasted blood. Blood was in his eyes—everywhere.

"Come on, let's go get a drink."

"Yeah all this torture is making me thirsty."

The group laughed as they left him, laying in the snow—alone.

His eyes fell on Lily's tombstone. His mouth trembled as he struggled to breath, even as he tried to voice his most desperate wish.

"Severus!"

"SEVERUS! NO!"

"No, No. No, no, no. Please, no. Severus!"

Hermione's tears splashed onto his face.

"I wish you'd found someone else to love—someone deserving of you."

"Severus, no! I'm going to get you to Mungo's! Hold on to me! HOLD ON TO ME, DAMMIT!"

Severus shuddered, his head jerking as his body went still.

"NO! NO! Noooooooooorrrrrouuu!"

Hermione's howl of despair filled the graveyard as the clouds passed over the sliver of the moon, covering the town of Godric's Hollow in the blackness of Oblivion and the wolves of Ragnarök gathered around her.

"Fight, damn you!" Severus' spirit yelled at his dying self. "Everything you ever wanted is right there! FIGHT!"

Blood was trickling out of so many slashes.

"Don't let her become a murderer!"

Images of a pack of bloodthirsty wolves descending upon Godric's Hollow killing everyone and everything in its path, tearing them all to shreds filled the air around them.

"This is a possible future. A POSSIBLE future. Get up. Fight. Embrace your bloody wolf and heal! Do it for HER. Do it for the only one who ever truly loved you, you pathetic IDIOT!"

Ronald Weasley went down under a flood of fangs and claws, his body torn about and dragged in pieces to the four corners of Creation.

"LIVE, dammit!"

Aurors fell to the pack's rabid fury—their mistress' madness subsuming their reason into blind homicidal rage.

"LIVE!"

Hermione sobbed on the smouldering remains of Godric's Hollow as she clutched the still body of Severus Snape. Her human body transformed into that of a giant, bloodsoaked wolf. She walked across the ashes and remains of the city into the Between to await Ragnarök, carrying the body of the wizard she had loved clutched between her great jaws.

"LIVE FOR HERMIONE, YOU SON OF A BITCH! Live for her and prevent this vision from happening now!"

Severus Snape let out a startled gasp as his eyes transformed from black to lupine gold.

The fog that had been encroaching from everywhere was gone. The kitchen came back in vivid detail from the lovingly worn wood of the cabinets to the disturbingly cute Niffler-shaped rug under the kitchen table. Daylight that had poured through the open kitchen window was replaced by the dark of night and a sliver of the moon peeking out from behind the clouds.

His body jerked on the kitchen floor as his phantom wounds mended. His skin expanded over bone, fur covered his changing body. Snarling lips stretched as his face pushed out into a gaping maw filled with sharp teeth.

AROOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUU!

The black wolf rose from the floor, his fur standing on end as he shook from nose to tailtip. His lips wrinkled as he snarled in defiance, foam dripped from his jowls, and his sides heaved as the pains of his rebirth passed off.

A golden brown wolf bounded up to him, tail wagging. She licked his muzzle and under his jaw, tail wag-wag-wagging so hard that it might launch her into space.

SEVERUS! Hermione's voice cried. She licked his muzzle and ears. Severus. Severus. Severus! You chose! You stayed with me!

The black wolf whined, his rage and defiance dissipating the instant he saw her. He tucked his tail in apology. I will never leave you again, Hermione.

The golden wolf licked his muzzle over and over. Promise?

I will serve the Lord of Wolves with you until the end of all things. This I swear—on one condition.

Hermione perked her ears, tail freezing in place. What condition?

Lupin is never allowed to pupsit our offspring. Ever.

Hermione yipped in mingled joy and amusement. I love you.

Severus howled with her as the moon came back into view, banishing away the ominous clouds as well as Hermione's almost-bloodlust. And I you, my love. Always.

Severus whined and nuzzled Hermione's chin, licking her. May I make a request?

Of course. Hermione wagged her tail.

Can we get cupcakes? With cream cheese frosting?

Hermione's tail wagged faster. I love cupcakes! And frosting! How did you know?

Severus opened his mouth and panted. Lucky guess.

Do you know where we can get some great cupcakes? Hermione asked.

Hrm?

The tavern where Ron and his mates go to get drinks. Hermione's tail wagged.

A wicked smile crept across Severus' muzzle. Excellent. Let's not keep the cupcakes waiting.

The pair bounded off together in search of cupcakes— and the future.

FIN.

(And there were many Ragnarök puppies ever after.)

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this short story for thepurplewombat. Thanks to FawkesyLady for wrangling my brain for this detour.

A/N 2: The soap suds thing was based on an article written by Anglophenia on BBCAmerica called "The Cultural Divide on Washing Dishes: Brits vs. Americans. It is not, I think, indicative of all Brits, but it was eyebrow raising enough that I had to include the twist in this story.