A/N: So I've discovered the one true pairing. There is so much canon evidence it's not even funny and I can't believe no one's written a fic about it yet! OH EM GEE!

(Yes, that is sarcasm. No, I don't support HermioneBasilisk. I just find it overly funny and decided to write about it.)

Hermione's One True Love

Hermione gasped.

Is this possible? she thought. No, it can't be . . . it can't . . . but it is!

Hasssasssseeheth . . .

Hello, little girl.

Hermione looked around, frightened; she knew Peeves had chased Myrtle out of the bathroom and Ron and Harry were off at History of Magic or something. She was alone in the locked-up bathroom. Absolutely alone.

So why was she hearing voices?

You look ssso very pretty today.

"Who said that?" Hermione shouted.

I can't underssstand you if you ssspeak like that.

"Who are you?" Hermione hissed.

That'sss better . . . I knew you were a Parssselmouth from the moment I sssaw you.

"What do you mean?" Hermione hissed/cried. "I'm not a Parssselmouth. If I wasss, I'd be in Ssslytherin."

Not sssso. Your friend, Harry Potter, he'sss a Parssselmouth and he'sss in Gryffindor.

"Who are you?"

The thing that makesss nightmaresss . . .

Hermione screamed as the bathroom sinks began to split apart. An enormous snake began to slither out of the gap that was formed. Hermione, being the intelligent female that she is, turned away as quickly as she could, to avoid eye contact and in doing so upset the cauldron of Polyjuice Potion, sending the lumpy gray concotion oozing across the floor. She recognized the creature as a Basilisk and was not particularly interested in being killed by eye contact or petrified by indirectly gazing into the serpentine beast's eyes.

"What do you want?" Hermione hissed. The Basilisk crept near her and she could feel the snake's hot breath on the back of her neck.

You.

Hermione swallowed, but found it a struggling task from the hard lump forming in her throat. "How isss it that I can ssspeak Parssseltongue?" she asked. "I'm a Muggle -- I have no wizzzard connectionsss, so how could I have an ability sssuch asss that asss to ssspeak to sssnakes?"

Who is your bessst friend, Missss Granger?

"Harry."

And then?

"Ron, I guessss."

And then?

"Ginny Weasssley."

Ah, therein liesss the truth. Ginny is, at leassst for a time, a Parssselmouth.

"WHAT!"

Ah yesss . . . I have no fear telling you thessse sssecretsss for you will forget them onccce I leave . . . Ginny Weasssley isss a Parssselmouth and you mussst have somehow picked up the talent when you usssed her wand in Herbology.

You're a pretty one, Hermione. Hasss anyone ever told you that?

"No . . ."

Potter and Weasssley must be too dim-witted to realize it.

Hermione smirked. The Basilisk made a valid point.

Clammy lips suddenly touched her neck and Hermione let out a shriek and jumped up. "Leave," she hissed. "Go. I don't want you near me."

Hermione, pleassse . . .

"No! Get out of my sssight!"

Miss Granger --

But Hermione had already left the bathroom.

A moment later, Hermione hurried back into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to collect the books she had left. She was surprised to find the cauldron of Polyjuice Potion overturned and the contents laying a mucky puddle on the floor. She didn't remember doing something so clumsy -- she had been brewing the Potion and then left, and now everything was all over the place. Shrugging it off as forgetfulness, Hermione grabbed her books and left. She had completely forgotten her encounter with the Basilisk.

Until we meet again, Miss Granger.