4.

Hogsmeade - September 1997

Hermione pulled her hood close to her face, glad that an autumn squall, all wind and sheeting rain, had set its sights on the little wizarding town of Hogsmeade. It was easier to scurry about, to hunker down against the weather…and then slip into a narrow alleyway that Salazar promised led to a hidden entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

Her belly grumbled and the lie that she'd fed the boys, that she was going out to forage, reminded her that she still had to do that.

"Have the Headmaster provide. He has a whole floor of kitchens at his disposal. Perhaps even enough to fill a Weasley stomach."

Hermione huffed a laugh and then a twist of guilt caught her. If —when— they came through his, Ron was her future. Her partner. The wizard standing at her side. Fathering her children. Her heart turned over. Heirs of Slytherin… Fuck. How would she explain that to him? Would he find the maturity to look past it? They were a thousand years removed from that wizard…and she wouldn't be magical without him in her blood.

A little dark part of her mind knew —knew— he would hold it against her. That if something didn't go his way, then he would throw it at her…the low blow. For years.

Hermione closed her eyes and pulled in a chilled breath, the stink of wet earth and stone surrounding her. Worrying about Ron was for later. They had a pretender to defeat first.

"Prick you finger…and put out your hand now."

Hermione did as she was told —not questioning his use of blood magic— and a swirl of warm magic chased around her, billowing her sodden cloak to dryness and lifting her, lifting her off her feet… She squeaked and the compress of magic whipped her away…

…to stumble on a long stone path and the huge, flesh-bare skeleton of a massive basilisk.

Hermione staggered back…and shrieked as large hands caught her upper arms.

"The Augury, I believe."

Severus Snape's smooth voice rumbled over her and she let out a slow breath. Her heart found an even beat and she turned, her fingers at the hood of her cloak. Salazar provided her with the words that would bind Snape to her. And break something that should never have been. "Do you renounce all other vows to hold mine?"

There was a long pause and Hermione wondered if he'd recogised her voice from his sudden stiffening...but he returned the rest of the bind, one passed down from every Head of Slytherin House for centuries.

"As Salazar Slytherin is my witness, I do."

It was low and sure...and she wanted to imagine there was a hint of relief in the deep velvet.

"Then yes, I am Slytherin's Augury."

Her ancestor had pushed some fearsome magic to further his cause, to protect her and the Prophecy of bringing balance back to the magical world. Strong enough to save a soul from even an unbreakble vow. And that magic wrapped around them, sealing the binding, him to her and her to him.

With tremblng fingers, Hermione dropped her hood.

Severus Snape —looking gaunt and far too thin— blinked at her. Twice. "What...? Miss Granger?"

She twitched a smile. "Surprise!"

He blinked again…but then straightened. The bind flowed between them, a contract, a reminder and a heartbeat later, he gave her a deep bow. "My Lady. How may I serve?"

Something deep and ancient inside of her slid into place with a distinct click and there was a swell of satisfaction from Salazar. Yes, he'd always wanted this wizard as his, hadn't he? But...this was right. This pact with Snape. The logical side of Hermione was in meltdown, aching to explain something that only had the answer of being…as it should be.

Pushing the wild churn of her thoughts to the side, she pulled the locket free from her shirt. "Did Dumbledore explain to you about horcruxes? This is one."

"Indirectly. I have pieced together the facts…and that the Dark Lord has created a number of them."

The strangeness of a…normal conversation between the too of them bounced through her mind. A part of her had ached to know this wizard, because as Salazar had said, he was brilliant. Now, perhaps, in this odd and inverse world, she could…

"This locket is also the repository for Salazar Slytherin, his mind, though not his magic."

Snape wiped his fingers over his mouth. Whatever his true feelings, he masked them almost perfectly. There was a slight tremor in his hand. How did he feel? To be told that the wizard who had modelled his life and so many of his students was…right there. And for an acknowledged muggleborn to be his chosen heir? Yes, he was masking it very well.

"So it cannot be destroyed, or we would lose him too." Snape eyed the hulk of the basilisk skeleton and a long finger traced over his lips as he considered it. "A drop in this beast's venom, perhaps? Myth has it that he was immune." He frowned back at her. "Though you were petrified by its gaze."

"Salazar has apologised for that."

Which made Snape blink again.

Salazar murmured the rasps and hisses of parsel tongue that would open the locket for her to remember and also offered up a theory. "Salazar is immune. He says…he believes I am immune to the venom, as that came from his mother's side, strict in the female line, but only appearing in a few males. And as it is a female gift…Riddle will not have it." Hermione let out a long breath after filtering Salazar's words to Snape. "Who knew he had such a handle on genetics?"

Snape's mouth quirked upwards. "That's plausible. The Dark Lord came from the first son. The…gift would've already been absent from his blood at that point."

Snape pulled a blade from his cuff, a silver knife that gleamed in the low light of the vast chamber, and conjured a large glass flask. "I imagine we'll be needing a fair amount."

He stepped over the bleached jawbone of the basilisk and ducked under the massive skull. Hermione pressed her hand to chest and remembered to breathe. She was immune. He was not. But he'd offered no hesitation. None. There was a job to be done, and so…he did it.

A sharp hiss, and a foul stench-filled cloud billowed out from the gaping jaws. Hermione flicked a bubble-head charm over herself and lurched forward, ducking down. Shit. Shit. Was…was he…? "Professor Snape? Professor!"

A black figure stepped out of the cloud, a charm also protecting him. He banished the noxious green gas with a casual finger-flick and released the protective spell around his head. "There are a further three sacs— Are you quite well, Miss Granger?"

"I thought…" She finite'd the bubble-head charm and shook her head. She caught her fingers in her tangled hair. He was fine. Fine. "I was worried for you."

He stared at her for a hard heartbeat and a hint of colour touched his gaunt cheeks. He inclined his head. "Thank you, my Lady." He lifted his shoulders. "Now, as I said, there are three sacs remaining. I have set a preservation charm over them. Will this"—he held up the stoppered flask that had to have at least two pints of swirling green basilisk venom within it—"be enough?"

Bubble-head charms in place and the flask reshaped into a deep and open cylinder, Hermione hissed the words that would open the locket. Wreaths of black teased out, the form of the hated Dark Lord striving for the air…before Hermione plunked the entire locket into the vat of venom. The locket and its long golden chain sank slowly to the bottom…

A scream echoed over the Chamber, wild and choked—

The flask shattered and Snape yanked her back, pulling her into his robes, the flare of venom splashing up like a geyser. Magic wrapped over them, fierce and tight and the liquid surged over them in a rush of stinking steam.

Silence fell…and there was only their laboured breathing. Hermione willed herself to relax, the scent of green herbs and old books easing her heart to a more even rhythm. Safe. They were safe…and a piece of Tom Riddle was gone. Was…?

A fist squeezed around her heart. Her mind reached for him…but felt nothing. No. No… Had they…had they exorcised the wrong wizard?

Snape eased back from her and straightened. He whisked a spell around the still-smoking holes in his academic gown. "Were we successful, my Lady?"

"I…"

Slow feet took her to the locket still sitting in a pool of green venom, its cases open for the first time in decades. An image of a woman covered one side, smiling, her hair a wild profusion of curls. Theosophia Slytherin. Hermione smiled and bent to pick up the chain. A tease of magic —Snape's magic— cleaned away the remaining venom.

The large locket felt…lighter with the weight of darkness stripped from it and with her eyes shut, Hermione slipped the chain over her neck.

"My Augury!"

Hermione slapped her hand to her mouth to deny a sob as Salazar's exultant voice filled her mind.

"Miss Granger?"

Snape, a hint of worry in his black eyes, frowned at her and she shook her head, then nodded, then grinned, tears slipping free. "He's gone. And Salazar…Salazar is still with us."

The Headmaster's shoulders sagged and a pale long-fingered hand wiped down his face. "How many of these foul things remain? I suspect…" He straightened, as if a rod had found his spine. "We have much to discuss, my Lady."

Hermione's stomach growled, something almost…feral.

Snape's eyebrow rose. "May I offer you lunch?"