9.
Chamber of Secrets - October 1997
"A goblin owed me a favour."
Hermione stared at Severus Snape and at the golden chalice he held in a dragonhide gloved hand. Being owed a favour by a goblin? Unheard of. What had he done to secure something almost…mythical?
Snape smirked and his black eyes shone. "It's only one of already hundreds of favours I'm owed by grateful goblins."
Hermione blinked. Now it was even more impossible. "How?"
"It's not something for…delicate sensibilities, my Lady."
Salazar chortled. Actually chortled. "Oh, this wizard. He perfected it. Congratulations!"
"Salazar says congratulations for whatever it is I'm too delicate to hear."
Snape blushed and inclined his head. "Thank you, my Lord. Your journals led the way."
Hermione gritted her teeth. It was bad enough that a selfish Ron had left them and a gradually going stir-crazy Harry was picking at her last nerve…she now had two overly smug Slytherins to deal with. She closed her eyes and breathed. A horcrux. Snape had secured another Horcrux, readied the venom in a long cylinder and was about to plunge it into the green, smoking liquid.
His words had risen —black and stark— through the pages of her notebook, declaring his success in securing the Cup. Hermione used the old, and possibly tired, excuse of saying she needed more books. But they did. Harry had slugged through the piles she had, and they'd narrowed the last unknown horcrux down to three possible myths and the relics attached to Rowena Ravenclaw.
"Ready?" She lifted an eyebrow.
Snape placed the Cup on the glass lip of the cylinder…and pushed.
The chalice toppled into the venom. Snape grabbed her hand and yanked her away, tearing down the wide stone path, even as his magic surged a protecting shield around them. He caught her up in his robes and turned her away, his back to the—
—exploding shower of screams and venom as another piece of the Tom Riddle's shattered soul was destroyed.
"As a hobby this is dangerous…but satisfying."
Hermione laughed and shook her head…but it was allowed, his moment of snarking. Another one was gone. She straightened, easing free of his tight hold. In the low light, he was still grey and gaunt —he said he'd been sleeping better, but it wasn't obvious— but his body, that was more more…filled out. She'd had proof of his eating well from being wrapped up in surprisingly strong arms and pulled against a firm chest…
Merlin, she hoped she wasn't as red as she felt. "Will you tell me what you did? Please? It will gnaw away at me."
"If your…father will allow it?"
"I will."
Hermione growled. "This is not the eleventh century. I am not chattel."
Snape lifted his infamous eyebrow. "It was professional courtesy, one Master Potioneer to another." But there was something in his gaze, a spark of devilment that said it might be that, but it was to poke at her being a witch, too.
Men.
"Of course," she bit out. Her lips pursed. "Well?"
"The Elixir of Salazar has been a myth to the goblins for a thousand years. Sought out. Yearned for. But…the formula didn't work. I long ago discovered it in Lord Slytherin's journals as Head of his House. Others have poked at it, even Professor Slughorn. I tinkered with it too down the years, yet, I was…reluctant to hand over that power to Albus.
"But these past weeks, I focused solely on it. Perfected it. And presented it to the Chair of the Goblins…with no payment, simply with the condition that on taking each dose, a binding and magical favour is owed to me."
"And…?" Hermione huffed a breath. "What does it do?"
"It is for…male goblins, my Lady."
Hermione closed her eyes and she was sure this time her face was beet red. Men. Whether muggle, wizard or goblin. Men were…men. And now —thank you very much— she had the image of over-sexed goblins in her head.
"Why would you create this?" she demanded of her insane ancestor.
"For precisely the reason the Headmaster has used it for. The good favour of a grateful Goblin Nation." A touch of a sly smile touched her thoughts. "He would be worthy of you, you know."
"He's twice my age. My…my teacher!"
"A magical being lives a long time…"
Hermione bit back a curse. She did not need this. Not at all. Especially not when the ghost of Severus Snape's arms were still a delicious and tempting memory…