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

A/N: Ghghfkdhffffbzzt! (No, really)

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

Avoidance

Chapter Two

"I don't want to achieve immortality through my work.

I want to achieve it through not dying."

Woody Allen

"Mr Weasley, I am quite certain that there is nothing related to your current situation that will be solved by staring at my wife."

Ronald startled, flushing beet red and turnip purple before settling with a shade reminiscent of boiled lobster. For a chocolate bon-bon snitch-laying hen, it was mighty impressive.

"Are you absolutely sure that there is nothing you can do for him?" Molly fretted, wringing her hands.

"By all means," Severus drawled, "do feel free to pluck him and find out."

The Ronald-unchicken squawked in terror, bolting for the garden gate only to get his pudgy body stuck, wedged firmly between the wrought iron bars.

Molly promptly went chasing after her chickified son, calling his name frantically with her apron strings flapping madly behind her.

Arthur sighed, rubbing the space between his eyes as if attempting to head off a nasty migraine. "I feel like we completely failed our Ronald somehow. Maybe all that working didn't give me enough time to sort him out properly."

"I doubt if anyone could have ever predicted a chickenification via faerie rings, Arthur," Hermione said kindly, passing him an iced lemonade.

Severus mumbled something about Sybill sodding Trelawney under his breath, causing Hermione to surreptitiously kick him in the shins while Arthur stared at his wife chasing the un-chicken running in circles around the vegetable garden.

The Death Eater un-chickens had all been rounded up by Unspeakables and taken to the Department of Mysteries to be thoroughly examined— again.

Ronald, however, had been fully examined multiple times only to confirm that he was going to be living a rooster's or rather a hen's life laying bonbon filled snitches for, well, the rest of his life.

Truthfully, no one in the Ministry could seem to figure out if he was really a rooster or a hen, as chocolate egg-laying un-chickens hadn't ever been a "real" thing until that very moment.

Molly was still quite distraught at the loss of her son's status as a human wizard, but his decadent chocolate-filled golden snitches were already in high demand— the money not exactly being unwelcome to keep the rest of the family well cared for. For the first time ever, the Weasley children wouldn't be forced to get secondhand books and robes for school and that was admittedly a change for the better.

The good of the many, as they say—

Arthur was suddenly finding that he didn't have to work every last bit of overtime he could muster anymore, and he was able to spend much more time with his wife and children. The previous lack of which he had argued was a major factor in what had gone wrong with their Ronald's upbringing.

He also had to placate Molly after they found out the exceedingly long reach of the man who'd managed to erase the memory of Hermione Malfoy from the face of Creation, even if but for two decades. The DoM had realised, after confirming the existence of the Mirror of Erised, that having placed her inside an artefact that could see one's greatest desires, it also had the power to hide whatever was placed within it from any and everyone at least until some condition had been met.

It had included Albus Dumbledore himself.

What had broken the geas over Hermione Malfoy's stasis had been his ill-advised attempt to hide the Sorcerer's Stone within the very same mirror. Between the two meeting together, the memory of her that was held inside had escaped to the outside world, allowing Severus to pull her back out into the physical plane.

What that meant for Severus and Hermione Snape, having been intimately involved with the magical influence of the Sorcerer's Stone, was yet to be determined. Already, Severus had been restored to his youthful self, just as Hermione remembered him, and it had given Hermione back to Severus just as he remembered her.

Few could deny that the coincidence was a little too fitting.

But, what of Dumbledore?

He'd obviously buggered up his own memory by sealing Hermione in the mirror to begin with, and that had included the specifics of how he'd managed to do it as well as why he'd done it over letting her rot in Azkaban, as he had led Severus to believe before he'd time-sealed his memories with the help of Ministry Obliviators—

What had really happened was on more than a few minds, frustrating a great number of individuals.

Even Veritaserum couldn't help them there. Albus no longer knew the truth to tell it.

Some suspected that the reason Albus believed himself so innocent was that he purposely cast certain things into the Mirror, but others believed he kept doing it by accident and happenstance, doomed never to remember what he did and to repeat it on some other event yet to happen.

Punishment, however, seemed terribly unclear.

Perhaps, even more so when Molly Weasley attempted to take Ronald-the-Snitch-covered-bonbon-laying-hen to Dumbledore to beg him in a last-ditch effort to make things right again—

Many believed she was mad considering that she was trying to cure the very fountain of her new family cash chicken, including her other children.

She'd been offered millions of galleons for Ron-the-hen, but she wasn't all that keen to sell her son off for a pile of gold, even if said son was making her quite a lot of money.

Fred, George, and Percy vociferously disagreed with that, much to Molly's utter mortification.

But, when Dumbledore proved unable to dispel the faerie ring transformation (as part of an agreement to lessen his future sentence) he earned himself a fine set of ass ears and a matching tail for his efforts.

At that point, Molly finally began to realise that there was no ending for Ron that wouldn't result in a lifetime of chicken-dom.

And when an opportunistic fox absconded with Ron the unchicken, darting halfway across St Ottery Catchpole before Molly could stop it with a panicked spell—

The poor vulpine was atomised, leaving Ron-the-hen's feathers covered in a thick layer of bloody fox particles. The un-chicken then proceeded to lay about three dozen golden snitches in rapid succession before passing out in total exhaustion.

Molly wouldn't leave Ron alone after that, even taking him with her to the shower or wherever else she happened to be, lest he be attacked again.

So, Bill, albeit somewhat reluctantly, armed the Burrow with so many powerful new protective wards that no one and nothing that wasn't a Weasley family member could enter or leave the property without their express permission—

That and poor Xenophilius Lovegood had set off the screeching alarms and flashing coloured lights that terrified their Muggle neighbours resulting in reporters and news crews combing the fields surrounding the Burrow in search of alien invaders—

They'd found some poor Muggle bloke named Dave wandering aimlessly through the fields in hopes of seeing the aliens close up and personal which resulted in him being Obliviated after he'd witnessed them casting spells in order to make Ron a secure place to live that didn't involve being constantly carried around by his anxious mum—

Of course, the poor sod being found drooling profusely on a London park bench with no memory of how he got there only further fueled the man's alien obsession and he soon gathered quite an online following after sharing his epic tale of how he was "abducted by a ship filled with face-hugger aliens" that "conducted strange experiments upon his person" and then "brainwashed him."

It was and continued to be a royal sodding mess, but at least Ron was now "happily" housed in an expansive luxe coop that could accommodate his frantic and apparently quite random snitch-laying needs.

He had a lot of company, too.

About a round dozen feathered chocolate-laying ex-Death Eaters, to be exact.

All of them judged permanently cursed.

Oddly, only Ronald seemed to retain some memory of who he was, but only when he was fed corn. It wore off after a few minutes.

Arthur sighed. "Sorry to bring you all the way out here for nothing, Severus, Hermione," he said sadly. "You both know how my Molly is. She won't rest or let anyone else do so if she thinks there is even the slightest chance of restoring Ron back to the boy he was. Even after the entire Department of Mysteries and a whole sea of Unspeakables told her there wasn't a thing anyone could do to counter fae magic."

Severus curled his lip, but then he waved Arthur off, dismissing the elder wizard's apology.

Hermione shook her head. "It's all right, Arthur. I feel like I missed out on so much while I was sealed away. Charlie off to Romania already, Bill out there curse-breaking for Gringotts— seems like only yesterday that the twins were about knee high and trying to pull the curtains down upon you."

"They're still trying that," Arthur confessed with a weary shrug.

"Why not take that trip to see Bill in Egypt?" Hermione asked. "I'm sure Xenophilius would love to watch over the hens while you're away."

Arthur seemed to chew on that idea for a while. "Maybe it would be good to take a bit of a holiday."

"Or I could brew you a potion to turn your twin sons into houseplants for a week," Severus said, his dour expression completely devoid of humour. "It would be no trouble and neither would they."

Hermione gave Severus an amused but rather tired look. "Besides, Hogwarts is shut down for the week while the Aurors are scouring the castle looking for any evidence of the old Headmaster's criminal activities, so it'd be a perfect time."

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "True. Not like this happens all that often if ever— and I've always wanted to see Egypt." He brightened greatly. "Thanks, Hermione. I think I'm going to go and have a talk with Xenophilius."

He trudged off as Hermione and Severus exchanged looks.

"Good thing we were standing outside the wards," Hermione said with a frown. "Being trapped in the Burrow is not my idea of a fun day out."

Severus shuddered at that rather unwelcome prospect. "Can we go home now?"

Hermione smiled warmly. "Of course, love."

Severus extended his hand, and she placed hers in it.

Crack!

They were gone.

"My Lady, we found this, erm… thing laying fudge-filled eggs in the old Riddle Mansion in Little Hangleton," Crabbe Sr said, making a face.

Goyle Sr shook his head. "I'm no magizoologist, but I'm pretty sure that is— was— maybe still is the Dark Lord."

They all stared at the large metallic green un-chicken with bright red eyes and a crimson gummy beak. Everytime it looked like it was gearing up to attack, it would cluck madly and lay an enormous fudge egg with a vibrant green candy shell.

Alastor Moody was laughing his arse off, cackling so hard he was wheezing.

Nearby Amelia Bones scratched her head as she and Kingsley Shacklebolt discussed the finer points of weirdness afflicting certain Dark wizards lately.

"Why didn't it affect you?" Alastor finally wheezed. "I mean, you weren't exactly champions of the light until fairly recently."

Crabbe, Goyle, Lucius, and Severus just shrugged together. "Our hearts were never really into it," Lucius explained. "With the return of my sister and those old memories, we remembered our oath to her."

Moody sobered a bit. "Oath?"

"She made us all swear not to follow— ahem— 'that psychopathic madman who in all likelihood isn't a pureblood wizard any more than your preening white peacocks'."

Moody sputtered and then started laughing again.

"Needless to say, we forgot our oath when we forgot our beloved Lady Malfoy," Crabbe said, annoyed. Goyle nodded ruefully as well.

"There were a few who never liked Lady Malfoy back when we were in school. Bellatrix believed she was an interloper. A pretender. Sirius Black believed her to be Morgana incarnate."

Severus sniffed. "She may be. I find that rather attractive."

"Severus!" Hermione huffed, crossing her arms against her chest.

The men-folk chuckled knowingly in approval while Hermione flushed a delicate shade of pink.

Amelia shrugged. "I think we may have the world's only immortal fudge-laying chicken."

"How do you know it's immortal?"

"He tried to fling himself into Muggle traffic and—" Goyle started.

"Bounced," Crabbe finished. "He tried to step in front of a stray Avada in a Knockturn Alley duel, and the spell bounced off his shiny coating and killed the two wizards that were fighting over a— well, you get the general idea."

Hermione eyed the metallic green unchicken and sighed. "Fae magic just keeps right on giving, doesn't it?"

Alastor was losing his marbles on them all over again. Even Severus had a decidedly wicked grin on his face.

"I think that the Dark Lord has been sufficiently— neutered," Moody finally choked out after he caught his breath. "If I hadn't seen the magical scans from the DoM, I would never have believed it."

"Effectively immortal— but cursed for as long as he remains alive," Amelia said. "Can't say I really pity him."

BUKACK!

The Volde-chicken promptly laid an emu-sized fudge egg.

"That looked pretty painful," Hermione remarked.

The Volde-chicken gave her a death glare, shuddered, and then laid another enormous fudge egg. He drooped over, panting in obvious exhaustion.

"That one looked even worse," Crabbe commented with no little amusement.

"Well, Master Morgan did say we needed to find new sources of income for our many projects," Amelia said with a cheeky smirk. "He may not have meant an un-chicken fudge business, but I'll roll with it."

"You won't even need to compete with the Weasley family's regular chocolate egg business," Hermione pointed out optimistically.

"Well, at least we have all the time we need to find whatever things he was using to extend his life," Alastor said. "I'm betting it's some sort of phylactery or a Horcrux perhaps."

"Darkest of magic that," Goyle said, nodding in agreement. "It shouldn't be too difficult to do since the source is right here." He pointed to the un-chicken with his thumb.

Volde-chicken tried desperately to maul Goyle's dragonhide boots, but only managed to make insufferably cute squeaking noises.

"Is that a tracking bracelet on his ankle?"

Moody grunted. "Indeed. Wouldn't want him to escape and leave a fudgy mess everywhere."

Severus snorted. "The horror."

"Do you think there are others out there that were— chickened?" Hermione asked, frowning slightly.

"I think there is a very good likelihood that those who fully embraced his vision have not been unaffected." Amelia scratched her ear and sighed. "We may find ourselves hunting down un-chickens for a year or so, just to make sure there aren't any others slipping through the cracks. Thankfully, the Mark is all we need to get a sample of the magic to track any residuals down."

"Beware of fae magick," Severus said. "If this isn't a perfect case study, I don't know what is."

Moody sniffed. "Now all that remains is Dumbledore's trial— I doubt it will be all that pretty."

Everyone frowned together.

"I take it that it would be too much to ask for Albus to have tripped into a random faerie ring?" Lucius asked.

Amelia snorted. "I'd really like to see that."

"I suppose we should go to the trial, seeing is I have to testify," Hermione said sadly.

Severus put a hand on her shoulder, and she smiled at him.

"I'm ready," Hermione said. "I've had a decade without you I've missed to empower me."

Severus nodded, and they all left for the Wizengamot together— with the green un-chicken in tow.

The Eclectic Hen Opens in the Ministry

Come one! Come All! Visit the Eclectic Hen Shoppe in the Ministry of Magic where all sorts of hen-themed candy is available for sale. Quidditch themes and more await you, including the Snitchy Truffles from none other than the Madam Molly's Chickolates, the decadent Dark as a Dark Lord fudge eggs from the Department of Mysteries' secret recipe, and the effervescent lemon sherbet eggs from the eclectic hen herself!

(shows moving picture of pristine white hen with a grey waddle and ice blue eyes sitting on an impressive pile of lemon sherbet eggs)

Many have debated on where these magical hens have come from, but so far it has been anyone's guess. Some say that Madam Weasley has been cooking up her special recipes for years and her twin sons invented a way to feed normal hens and turn them into chocolate layers. No one really seems to know for sure.

Regardless of how these delights came to be, come and visit the Eclectic Hen from 8am to 5pm in the main Ministry courtyard!

"You expect me to believe that Fawkes abducted Albus and dropped him into a faerie ring?" Dolores Umbridge screeched. "Impossible! There is no such thing!"

Hermione tilted her head up in a distinctively Malfoy way. Her lips pursed together. "By all means, Madam. Do feel free to go see for yourself and prove me wrong." She gestured invitingly to the back garden.

Umbridge stalked up to Hermione and got right up in her face. "I'll prove that you're nothing more than a little social-climbing Mudblood imposter and that this entire ridiculous story is just a shoddy attempt to put good people like Minister Fudge in a bad light!"

Hermione arched a brow looking very much like her husband. Her lips tightened. "As I said, do feel free to prove me wrong, Madam Undersecretary," Hermione said. "But should you fail in your endeavour, all of your assets shall become my assets by the letter of pureblood law— just as you signed it, Madam."

Umbridge's face scrunched up hatefully as she fisted her wand tightly. "I'll prove you wrong, missy. Just you wait and watch a real pureblood witch in action."

Hermione's grey eyes seemed ever colder. "I eagerly await your demonstration."

Umbridge stormed off into the back garden and had hardly walked five steps in when she tripped, sending a multitude of tiny mushrooms flying into the air as her body landed face first—

BUKACCCKKKK!

Lucius strolled up and handed his sister an iced limeade. "Sister."

"Thank you, brother."

"Do I even want to know?"

"We had unexpected company, Lucius. They insisted upon seeing our back garden saying that Albus could not possibly have been dropped into a faerie ring by a flaming, flying rooster."

Fawkes, who was happily eating his favourite gooseberries off one of the loaded garden bushes, spit a beakful of tiny seeds out at the pink hen in the back garden.

The hen then squawked and laid a glittery bright pink egg. It rolled into a rock, split open, and tiny white candy kittens came pouring out along with a pink-tinted chocolate creme, mewling sweetly and generally carrying on.

"I believe we owe that flaming feather duster an exotic fruit basket," Severus said, walking over carrying his own tall glass of limeade. "We should probably also block off this side of the garden until the fungus season simmers down somewhat."

Lucius sniffed. "You could just leave it as an additional property defence system," Lucius said.

BUKACCKKKKK!

The trio turned to see a lime-green hen with distinctive red spectacle markings attacking the pink one for the best feeding area, then stopping to lay a glossy red egg that promptly exploded, sending spicy cinnamon redhots flying in all directions

"I rest my case," Lucius said rather smugly.

Severus' expression was nothing short of wicked. "Excellent."

Hermione just sipped her drink, hiding her giggle behind her glass.

Lucius raised a glass to the lime-green hen. "That's what you get for trying to sneak onto a Malfoy's property uninvited, my dear."

Time passes...

Pansy was ecstatic that she was finally getting somewhere with Draco Malfoy. It seemed like forever that she'd been waiting for him to so much as give her the time of day ever since that aunt of his just appeared out of nowhere.

Ever since she had come back to the family, all of the perks they used to enjoy in Slytherin were no longer guaranteed.

Snape now distributed punishment equally, regardless of house.

It was completely uncalled for.

Finally, Draco was seeing the light and bringing her to one of his family events.

Finally she was going to get the recognition she deserved!

"We are gathered today to celebrate the christening of Heath and Sylvia Snape, son and daughter of Severus and Hermione Snape, here under the blessings of the gods and the old ways," a low, rumbling voice said.

OH WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!

Pansy stifled a shriek as a large beast-man that seemed like a dragon had mated with a bat and had a freakish child cradled the babes in a wing and gently dipped them into the sacred water, using its wing thumb to trace runes on the babies' heads.

"Come celebrate with us, under the blessings of Merlin, of magic, and of life that these children will forever be under the care of magic's greatest joy, that they will know each other through the bonds they share as brother and sister, with their parents, their extended family, and to all others who have shared in magic's greatest blessings."

The beast sprinkled water on the babies and they sneezed rainbows, causing the gathered to chuckle in approval.

"Should the love of their parents be taken prematurely, who stands to care for them should it be required?"

"We shall," Narcissa and Lucius replied together.

The beast-man sprinkled water on their foreheads as well.

He held the babies up to the sunbeam. "I present to you, Heath and Sylvia Snape. May their magic never falter. May their family never fade."

A great cheering went up, and Pansy fled out the door just as fast as she could.

The Malfoys were hosting freaks!

Freaks!

She ran and ran and ran, not caring where—

THUMP!

She suddenly found herself entangled in vines and pressed up against one of the stone walls by the garden gate— the gate so tantalizingly close but not quite close enough.

A gathering of honking daffodils, fanged geraniums and facehugger morning glories turned to regard her, their petals rustling in annoyance.

Puttputtputtputtputtputtputtttt!

The daffodils honked loudly like a flock of angry geese, the fanged geraniums spat their sharp teeth out at her like a machine gun and the morning glories wrapped her up in their vines and dusted her liberally with bright yellow and white pollen.

Guests would comment later that they weren't quite sure what alerted them first— the sneezing fits or the screaming.

Pansy was reduced to a low whimpering for most of her life after that, running away from Draco like he was the devil himself.

Draco would comment at his wedding to Astoria Greengrass some eight years later that honking daffodils, fanged geraniums and face-hugging morning glories were his favourite flowers ever since they'd found Pansy with her hands clamped over her ears, strung up like a snared pheasant, her body coated in a thick layer of pollen, and her face peppered in fanged geranium teeth.

Astoria, very wisely, always treated the garden plants with extra respect as well as the House of Snape, which had ever been a great ally to their family since well before she had been born.

Severus Snape became one of the most well-known Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers Hogwarts had ever known, and it was said that every year, almost on the dot to when contracts were resigned, a random unnaturally coloured hen would appear in the DADA classroom, smack in the middle of the platform.

No one knew why— and they'd stopped asking anymore.

Hermione Snape became a Transfiguration teacher of considerable renown, specialising in complex human transfiguration and reversions as well as one of the foremost researchers on the effects of fae magick-induced transfiguration. She was highly respected, just as much as her husband, and Headmistress McGonagall often said Hogwarts was a better place with them teaching there. Alastor, who had continued rounding out her training upon her return, "rented her out" on weekends for highly-classified missions when things went pear-shaped somewhere else in the Ministry.

Quirinus Quirrell, whom Severus had replaced, had his own issues with eggs— which seemed to somehow be leaking out of his turban. After being found unconscious and buried alive in candy eggs, Poppy finally unwrapped his turban to find that the stuttering wizard had sprouted a hen's rear end on the back of his head—

Quirrell went completely barmy after that, babbling things about Dark Lords and fancying his eggs sunny side up. He was admitted to the Janus Thickey ward at Mungo's where he remained an inpatient until the end of his days.

The staff and patients there seemed to really appreciate the free candy eggs.

Harry, lacking his ginger-haired cohort-in-slackery and help from random others, was forced to become a good student. He studied hard, only punched Draco Malfoy twice, and stopped staring at Hermione Malfoy like she was an alien mutant with two heads by his third year. Only a couple years after graduating Hogwarts, Harry had managed to become a top Auror, and many said that they'd never seen someone work so hard to succeed.

Severus admitted, if not to Harry's face (ever), that Harry had successfully surpassed his father and had at last become a "passable person."

Dumbledore was thought to have escaped to some island somewhere far away from Britain, but few knew the truth that he was supplying lemon sherbet eggs to the Ministry's shop. He was, much to Moody's amusement, funding quite a few scholarships and internships at the Ministry and filling it with bright, open minds to replace the likes of Dolores Umbridge.

No one seemed to notice Umbridge was even missing.

Her pastel kitten plates were auctioned off for charity to fund a wizarding orphanage. Minister Fudge said "Dolores loved helping children. She would have certainly approved."

The Daily Prophet gained considerably more popularity after Rita Skeeter disappeared. The rumours and speculation regarding their gossip columnist's mysterious disappearance funded the paper for many years before they made a decision to report primarily positive news after the war's end made stories featuring negative news far less popular.

The war wasn't officially over until just before the end of 2000. Quietly and under the radar, the Unspeakables of the DoM had worked closely with the Aurors to bring the Horcruxes together and destroy the lot with fiendfyre.

Wizarding Britain went on.

The DoM and the DMLE gave a huge sigh of relief.

Minister Fudge always believed there had never been anything amiss. Those who knew better simply shook their heads and let him believe it.

The world was finally safe, and that was good enough.

But for a family that spent three fourths of their time at Hogwarts and the rest in their "small" cottage by the sea, everything was as it should be.

Relatives and close friends visited on Sundays for excellent tea, biscuits, and sympathy.

Minerva visited on Friday nights (to be a feline pest, in Severus' opinion.)

Quiet nights in the library were cherished as much as the sound of children giggling in their rooms, but nothing was as profound to Severus Snape as the witch in his arms every night from the day he had pulled her from the Mirror of Erised.

They hung Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait in their children's rooms to let the old wizard enjoy his great-great-grandchildren.

It was the one portrait in the house that the children never painted a moustache or smeared grape jelly on during their flaming youth. Whether it was pure luck or the meticulous tending of their hyper-vigilant house-spiders, no one really knew for sure.

No elf dared try and sneak in to offer their services to the Snape family— all that did turned up some days later, having been bound head-to-toe in a thick silk cocoon with an apple stuffed in their mouth.

When their children graduated and left for parts abroad, they always knew that their parents dearly loved both them and each other.

Always.

Fin.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the story! Please thank The Dragon and the Rose for staying up past her expiry date to beta this story. *yawn* Oh noes… *thud* zzzz