15.

Salazar's Rooms - The Chamber of Secrets - October 1997

"Can I see it?"

Severus sank back against the heavy padding of the couch and slid her a dark look. "I had no idea you would be so…forward, Miss Granger."

Her cheeks flamed. No…no! She didn't mean… Mortification and whispers of need chased through her caroming thoughts—

And —argh, Merlin's bits— she was wearing the locket.

"You know I didn't mean…that!"

He lifted a coal-black eyebrow and that skittered yet more wicked warmth through her flesh. Seriously, an eyebrow —a bloody eyebrow— should not set her heart racing. But it did. Yes, she was a thoroughly lost and smitten witch.

"Did you not? How…disappointing."

"Wicked man."

He gave a gracious nod. "As you say."

"And you're distracting me." She looked to his shirt sleeve, to his left arm. "You said it changed?" She drew her fingers over the warmth of the white cuff. The curl of heat lurked in her belly that after a whole week of agreeing to this…moving along their path together. That he felt…safe enough to sit with her in only his shirt sleeves as another hit of bliss. That and his collarless shirt was open, the revealing slice of his pale collarbone a constant temptation.

He was also without the glamour that had cursed him for decades.

She blinked. His glamour. Would that cover it? Protect him? "But if it's changed, how do you—"

"Regardless, it was…forged from the line of Slytherin, and because of that I can sense the Dark Lord when he calls. There is a ghost of the mark still, thankfully fading every day. And this," a whisper of magic dropped his mask over him, the dark, surly and foul Professor Snape, "covers all of me and imprints the Dark Mark over my new binding."

The glamour lifted and he covered her fingers with his free hand, giving a quick squeeze before releasing her. His cheeks were pink, from the fire or embarrassment, she didn't know. "You must not feel…guilty, Hermione. This binding released me. Freed me."

Had he noticed her wince? No doubt. Severus Snape was a very observant wizard.

He eased the cuff back and rolled the white sleeve up, end over end, to reveal the…the brand that still —in spite of his assurances— had her stomach in a knot.

Hermione's fingers traced over the warmth of Severus' strong, sinewed forearm. Firelight from the great hearth before which they sat flickered over his pale skin, limning it in gold…and making it evident that the bind, the covenant they shared, had most definitely dissolved more than the Unbreakable Vows that had held him.

Severus Snape's infamous Dark Mark was no more.

No, that wasn't quite true, was it?

As he'd said, the foul skull had faded to a dull, ashen grey, but curling in the snake's stead, in a deep and gleaming silver, was a basilisk. The ancient symbol of Salazar's Bloodline. Around its shining scales, wound the path of a silken band, one without end.

"My sweet Theosophia. The symbol of her hidden line." Salazar's voice was little above a murmur in her mind. Ancient sadness threaded through it, the knowledge that he'd set into play so much…destruction to protect the prophecy that had his wizard-born daughter at its heart. "I will leave you. Spend time with your wizard, my child. Do not neglect the moment."

"Salazar…?"

But there was only silence.

"Hermione?"

She twitched a smile and lifted her locket free, placing it in a dish on the low table beside the couch. "The winding ribbon." She reached out again, without thought, and drew the path over Severus' skin. It prickled at her touch and her belly fluttered at sharing something so innocent…but so intimate with him. She drew in a breath. "It's Theosophia's mark. Salazar has a thousand years of —not regret, I'm sure— but the consequences of her prophecy."

"His legacy as a hater of muggles and muggleborns and how that stained his House and Line."

She gave a slow nod. "I never thought…"

"No one knew. Not even us, the Heads of his House. We were aware of you, as an abstract, of course." A twitch of lips on a face that was his —and was not— and he stroked her cheek, his thumb drawing a gentle line under her lip. "But not your mission."

"About which I am still mostly clueless." She huffed a laugh and kissed the tip of his thumb. And stilled. As had he. "Severus, did I…did I do something wrong?"

"I am not…used to…" He winced, the familiar line drawing between his brows. That action had bled through the glamour, obviously. Yes, she was slowly learning what had been and was not his true face beyond the safety of the Chamber. "Easy affection. That has never been a part of my life."

She blinked. Had he not…? Had he never…? He certainly kissed like a man who knew what he was doing—

"Sex and affection can be two quite separate things, my sweet witch." And he smirked at her, something dark and wicked and totally delicious. "I am not a novice in that…art, I promise you."

Breathing was overrated, And optional. Completely optional.

He drew closer, his warm breath brushing her mouth. "But I have never done this…this precious thing, of a man and woman teetering on the very edge of falling." He drew back and his endless eyes, so beautiful held her transfixed. "Fall with me, Hermione."

"Yes…"

Salazar was right. Severus Snape was exactly the wizard she needed.

Appointments have clustered together over the next few days, so I'll be back Saturday at the latest.