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The Tyger and The Lamb	By : crzydiamond Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 42078 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to Harry Potter in any way. No money is being made from this story

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
A/N

Here is the wedding chapter! Just a few images to get your imagination going.

Hermione's dress- http://www.clairepettibone.com/bridal/?cp=gowns/crescent

Her shoes (in white)- http://www.newmanoloblahniksandals.com/images/large/newmanoloblahniksandals/inkChristian-Louboutin-shoes-181_02_LRG.jpg

Her Hair ( I couldn't resist, I love GOT)- http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2011/186/b/a/daenerys_targaryen_wip_by_anendlessvanity-d3l2bpm.jpg

Bridesmaids dresses- http://www.henkaa.com/shop/convertible-dresses/long-dress/sakura-convertible-dress-long-charcoal-grey.html#.UYhsRivWGcA

The Wedding

Hermione was having a dream. Well it began as a dream but slowly morphed into a nightmare. Someone's hands were skating along her body, caressing her bare flesh with feather light caresses. Her dream was flooded with sunlight which was so bright that it obscured the face of her lover. She could catch glimpses of his hair color when he leaned in close to whisper something in her ear. It was long, silky and red and the hands that slid up and down her thighs were slightly freckled.

Ron, she sighed to herself, loving the feel of his body against hers.

But when she looked up again, his hair was no longer red. It was blonde, so light that it nearly blended in with the sunlight and his hands were larger, broader, smooth and unblemished. The voice dropped an octave, lower, husky and extremely baritone. Immediately she knew who it was.

“Malfoy?” she said aloud in her dream. She struggled to sit up and push the man off of her but he held her firmly on her back. “Get off of me!” When he didn't comply, Hermione struggled with him until the man abruptly dispersed into a fine grey mist. Suddenly there was no sun and she was thrown into darkness.

“Please,” she cried out to no one. “Someone help me!” Her voice echoed on and on and her pleas went unanswered until suddenly-

“Hermione!”

Someone was calling her name. It was coming from behind her. She turned around and began to run, stumbling when she realized that her feet were balanced in thin air. “Hermione!” came the voice again, more insistent, filled with agitation.

“I'm coming!” she called. “Please. Draco, Ron wait! Don't leave me here!”

“Hermione!”

Suddenly gravity returned and Hermione was falling down and down and down a white and black spiraled hole that seemed to yawn forever beneath her. She screamed and screamed and-

“Hermione!”

The brunette witch shot up in bed, a hand clutched to her breast where her heart was thudding wildly. Her skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and her hair was damp. Outside the french doors, she could see that the sun was high and full in a clear blue sky, intermittently pierced by full white clouds. Birds were singing in the forest nearby and she could see Daemon sprawled out on her chair on the terrace, basking in the warm sunlight. No spiraled hole, no darkness, no anti-gravity.

There was a banging on the door and the voice called again. “Hermione!”

“Coming!” she called back, nearly falling on her face when she tried to stand with her legs still tangled in her sheets. After extracting herself, Hermione threw on a robe and answered the door. She was flabbergasted to see Ginny, Pansy and Lavender there, all zipped up into beautiful soft grey dresses, each one with a different neckline though the hems of all three skimmed the floor. Ginny's was a sweat heart neckline, Lavender's was a one shouldered dress and Pansy's was a deep v-cut. The three of them looked beautiful and elegant but irritated.

“You slept in!” Ginny snapped, pushing past Hermione into the room.

Hermione blinked, confused. “Pardon? I have today off, its a Saturday...”

Her friends stared at her incredulously until Pansy began to laugh. “Oh this is priceless. She forgot that today is her wedding day!”

Wedding? But that wasn't for another...

Hermione dropped her head in her hands and groaned. The wedding had totally slipped her mind since Narcissa had been gone for the past day, arranging and rearranging seating plans, flower arrangements, and wedding bands. Judging by the placement of the sun in the sky and the level of anxiety on her bridesmaids' face, Hermione deduced that it was probably around eleven in the morning, giving her only an hour to prepare for the wedding that began at noon.

“Bugger me,” Hermione swore beneath her breath.

Ginny grabbed her by the arm and snapped her fingers in her face. “Come on 'Mione focus. What needs to be done?”

“My...my hair,” Hermione stuttered out, trying to think. “My makeup. Shoes?”

The bridesmaids nodded. Lavender pushed Hermione down into her vanity seat and conjured up an enormous bag of cosmetics while Pansy ran to the closet to retrieve the dress. Ginny began brushing through Hermione's tangled curls and together, they worked in tandem to produce a wedding vision that would make even Draco Malfoy speechless. They finished grooming Hermione with only fifteen minutes to spare before she had to meet her father downstairs at the entrance of the Malfoy gardens.

“You look...”Lavender trailed off with a sigh. “I can't wait to get married.”

Ginny hit the daydreaming girl with a hairbrush before telling Hermione warmly, “You look absolutely beautiful.”

The bride to be stood and looked at herself in the full length mirror. Everything was simple and elegant. Her eyebrows were tweezed into two perfect arches and underneath, Lavender had lined her eyes with brown liner and layered delicate purple shadow on her lids, which really made her hazel eyes pop. Her lips had a thin layer of soft pink gloss and her cheeks were rosy. The rest of her skin looked bronzed and supple, due to a bronzing orange blossom lotion Lavender had rubbed onto every inch of her body.

Ginny had brushed and conditioned her hair, which nourished her curls so that they cascaded down her back in heavy, shiny ringlets. The hair by her temples had been pulled back into two braids that encircled the back of her head and trailed off by the nape of her neck. A pair of diamond leaf motif earrings hung from her earlobes.

Slipping on the wedding dress and the delicate petaled high heeled sandals completed the ethereal vision. Hermione truly looked like a dryad that had emerged from the forest to dance around a ring of mushrooms or sing songs to a full moon. As she overlooked the gown once more, she notice that the diamonds and jewels along the straps and bodice had been charmed a pale blue.

After applying a few last minute touches, the girls ushered Hermione down to the garden entrance where her father was waiting, looking groomed and handsome in a single breasted tuxedo. He had decided on the muggle attire although the rest of the wedding party would be wearing wizarding robes. When he saw his daughter, Richard's eyes widened and he shed a couple of tears that slid down into the soft creases by his eyes.

“Oh Hermione,” he said, kissing her on both cheeks. “I have no words for how beautiful you look...you look just like your mother did on our wedding day.”

Hermione didn't want to point out the drastically different circumstance so she just returned his kisses and looped her arm through his. “I'm glad you're here Dad.”

The french doors leading out to the gardens had been covered in a light beige fabric to ensure no one accidentally caught glimpses of the bride before the ceremony. Hermione pushed the fabric aside to peek out into the garden and catch a look at how the wedding had turned out.

Narcissa had truly outdone herself. The flowers in the garden had alleviated the burden of arranging florals outside but the rest was breathtaking. There were two hundred white cushioned chairs in rows of ten and ten on either side of the cobble stone walkway. Dogwood trees lined the walkway, their branches laden with delicate blossoms. Narcissa had used a spell to change the normally white petals into a beautiful pale blue- the flowers slowly danced in the air before landing to carpet the ground. At the end of the walkway was a raised dais where the two largest dogwoods in the garden intertwined their upper branches to form a dome underneath which the marriage official stood with Draco to the right. Her fiancee looked extremely handsome in black robes with a blue doublet beneath, his ash blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck. Hermione could tell by his pinched expression that he was both anxious and nervous.Theodore Nott and Adrian Pucey stood by his side, looking handsome but equally bored and impatient.

Suddenly, the small orchestra placed to the left of the dais began to play a slow waltzing tune and all of the guests stood. Hermione took a deep breath and looked at her father for courage- it took all of the power in her not to run from the wedding and floo herself to someplace far away. But not only would that cause her death by breaking the terms of the contract, but it would also break Narcissa's heart.

“Hermione!” came Pansy's voice from the staircase behind them. “We need to get lined up.”

The three bridesmaids positioned themselves in a line in front of the door, rounded up by Hermione on her father's arm. Suddenly, the french doors magically opened and the blossom perfumed air of the gardens wafted into the manor. All the guests turned to watch the bridal procession begin. Hermione watched her friends ascend down the aisle and waited until they had reached the dais to step out in front of the open doors. The song changed, luckily not to the overdone “Here Comes the Bride” but to another classical piece and she knew it was time.

The world seemed to slow around her as she walked down that aisle. Never in her life had she experienced the gazes of so many people on her at once. She caught sight of all the Weasleys and Harry as she passed and that gave her the extra push she needed to continue. The Prime Minister was there, along with a myriad of Draco's associates. All of her peers from the Ministry were standing in the crowd as well, smiling and giving her little waves. Of course the typical pureblood families were in attendance, all looking particularly unhappy with the whole event.

It seemed as though twenty minutes had passed before Hermione and her father reached Draco.

“Take care of my daughter,” Richard said softly yet sternly. He didn't release his daughter's hand until Draco replied in a sincere tone, “I will, Mr. Granger.” Her father gave her another kiss on the cheek before seating himself next to Lucius and Narcissa, the latter of whom was crying into a lacy handkerchief.

Draco only stared at his bride, his eyes intense and hot. Hermione knew that look all too well and bowed her head to hide the embarrassed blush spreading across her cheeks. “You look good Granger,” she heard him say but his voice cracked, betraying his seeming nonchalance. He was more affected than he wanted to look.

“Wish I could say the same,” she shot back.

The wizarding rites of marriage begun, starting with the vows they had to repeat in the presence of the Gods. More pleas were asked of the spirits of the forest, since Malfoy Manor bordered on a large one. They drank sweet white wine from a goblin wrought crystal chalice and then the official bound their hands with silken ribbons which physically represented their ties to each other as a married couple.

By the time the whole thing was done, Hermione's feet ached and her head was throbbing. Once the official announced them husband and wife the entire crowd stood and cheered as the couple made their way back down the pathway and into the Manor where the reception was set up.

Narcissa turned the grand ballroom into something out of a fantasy world. There were around 20 round tables draped in white cloth overlay-ed with intricate blue lace, all with placards announcing who was sitting where. The bridal party would be seated at a long elevated table at the end of the hall. In the middle of the floor was the enormous wedding cake which was a simple confection of white fondant with a blue border around each tier. Beside it was a large pedestal bird bath, wrought from stone, which was filled with wine. Water lilies made out of spun sugar floated on its deep red surface. The most spectacular part of the room was the floating wall of blue and white peonies behind the bridal party, which fell in a curtain from the vaulted ceiling to the marbled floor.

The reception was much more fun than the wedding, as expected. They had to take obligatory pictures for the press who were ushered out immediately afterwards. After that, the mingling and dancing commenced. Hermione was forced to dance with Draco for most of the night but was stolen away by her father and Harry for some of the last songs. But for most of the reception, Hermione remained seated, in part because of her painful shoes and in part because she had butterflies furiously flapping around in her empty stomach.

All she could think about, as her blushing father danced with one of Narcissa's freshly widowed cousins, was what would happen later in the night. Would Draco finally claim his “right” as her husband? If he wanted to, there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it. What lay ahead frightened her even more. Lucius and Narcissa were leaving the manor for the Malfoy Estate in a couple of days. The beautiful Italian style house, which sat on a couple of acres of rolling hills, was only a fifteen minute walk away but even so, it meant being alone with Draco with no means of interference all day every day.

When the night came to the end, the bride and groom publicly announced their appreciation for their guests' time and consideration. It took nearly another hour for everyone to Floo or apparate out of the Manor. Her father was one of the last to leave, along with Harry, who was apparating her father to his home.

“Call if you need anything,” Richard said while hugging Hermione.

“I would Dad, but I don't have a phone,” she reminded him gently. He laughed and smiled that warm smile of his, before taking Harry's outstretched arm. They apparated away with a loud pop and suddenly, she and Draco were alone, with only the busy house elves for company.

“You're nervous,” Draco said from behind her, his voice low and silky. “You're trembling.”

Indeed she was. Hermione hadn't noticed but there was a fine tremor in her hands, and she was sure he could see it in her stiffened back. She wasn't ready for what came after the wedding...

“I'll relieve you of your worries.” Hermione looked over at him incredulously. “I have a lot of work that needs to get done by tomorrow. I won't be fucking you Hermione. Yet.”

When he said her name, Hermione felt a jolt fly through her. Never in her life had he ever uttered her first name. She guessed that now he was forced too, since they were both technically Malfoys. The work he had to do however, piqued her curiosity. It seemed a little odd that his workload fell on the evening of their wedding, unless the two were somehow connected. Hermione had been brainstorming as to why Draco had been so eager to marry her so quickly. She knew he wanted to bed her again, but going so far as to marry someone was a little too drastic even for a Malfoy. Business ventures seemed the most logical choice but which as to which venture it was, Hermione had no clue.

“What kind of work?” she asked. “Now that we're married Malfoy, you should just tell me the reason why you wanted to marry me so quickly. And so badly.”

A smirk spread across his face as he loosened his tie. “A business venture.”

“I figured,” she snapped.

“The Malfoy name was dragged through the mud during the war and not even my dedication to the Order could wipe us clean. Marrying you was the best way to restore my name to glory while ensuring a certain muggle born business partner would invest all of his profits into my company.”

Hermione blinked, slightly confused. “Company? But I thought you worked at a law firm?”

“I do,” Draco said nonchalantly. “But my other business is less...virtuous. I'm in the field of recovering ancient artifacts, muggle, magical or otherwise, and selling them to the highest bidder.”

That explained a lot. Draco's abrupt disappearances for three days at a time, the unknown associates he was seen with, his constant appearances at Wizarding estate sales. One time, while mindlessly wandering through the Manor she came across his study, which had one wall covered in newspaper clippings, wizarding and muggle alike, all having to do with certain “ occurrences” which couldn't be explained. Even during the war, Draco was fascinated by ancient artifacts and if he wasn't training, fucking some random trainee or sulking, he was in the library reading about history.

Hermione could tell by his tense posture that he was expecting her to judge him about his more than likely illegal business venture. But instead she bit her tongue and said, in an urging tone, “Go on.”

“What do you know about the Ancients?”

Nothing about the Ancients was taught in magical schools, mainly because most modern day wizards and witches didn't believe in their existence. There was no true evidence of them, only theories and conjectures which wasn't enough these days. Historical accounts of them were mostly lost or too damaged to translate. There was a little bit of information Hermione knew but it was scarce.

The myth was that before magic existed, the ancients did. These primordial beings discovered magic one day while sitting in a sacred tree grove. Over time some of their immense stores of magic leeched into the wood of the surrounding trees. While searching for a better way to channel their raw power, the Ancients discovered the magical abilities of these trees and used them to fashion crude wands made from yew, oak, ash, and holly. The wands held no extraordinary capabilities but they did pave the way for more advanced wand making as the magical community expanded. Over time the Ancients themselves began to dissolve back into nature, mainly into the overlying magical force which manifested itself in other magical beings. Those who believed in the myth of the Ancients believed that they lived on in nature and also through anyone who could use magic.

“So you believe in them?” Hermione asked incredulously. She'd never met a wizard or witch who truly believed in their existence. Most wizarding people viewed the ancients the same way that muggles viewed Santa Claus as they got older. The Ancients, like Santa Claus, made wonderful stories in your youth but as you grew, the more irrational and fantastical those stories were, until eventually, the stories just became fiction.

“I do,” Draco said, leveling her with an intense stare. “I've found several artifacts pertaining to the Ancients so I have no doubts that they did exist. My most recent find was an ancient Celtic text describing the origin of magic. It even went into detail about each of the Ancients. There were nine of them in the beginning, some dark and some light.”

“I fail to see the connection between your illegal business and you forcing me into marriage.”

Draco smiled, a terrible sight, and finished his drink. “What do you know of Gubraithian fires?”

Hermione shrugged. “I know that they last forever.”

“And what about one made of black flame?”

“I would assume its a black Gubraithian fire that lasts forever,” she replied dryly.

“And...” He trailed off. “What about one made of black flame, one that is also a fiendfyre?”

Hermione's mouth dropped open. Gubraithian fires were rare enough and could only be created through extremely complex magic. To make a black one, to block off an area was possible. But one that was also a fiendfyre?

“That's impossible. The fiendfyre can't both block an area and chase an intruder as well.”

“I know,” Draco acknowledged. “But once you step past a certain point, this black fire turns into a fiendfyre. The two colleagues of mine who went to this place never returned and those who went after them only retrieved charred bones and talked of a wall of black flame.”

“Even if this does exist,” Hermione said, her hands fluttering nervously in the air. “What is so important behind that wall of fire that you're willing to risk people's lives for it? You're not just talking about regular magic. This sounds like elemental magic, magic that is-”

“Ancient Magic,” her husband finished. “Magic that is much more than just using a wand. Magic that is one with nature.”

“You think that this artifact is protected by the Ancients themselves?” she asked.

“Yes. I've come across it before. I have two of the nine ancient wands in my possession. Each time we discovered one, there was some sort of nature based magic that was much more advanced than its modern counterpart. But this...fire has been the most deadly.”

She marveled at the fact that Draco actually had some of the most important magical artifacts in the wizarding world in his possession. If he could prove that the Ancients were real, it would change history forever. It would change everything. She remained quiet for once as Draco began to speak, eager to soak in all of this new information about these primordial beings.

“One of the Ancients was a pyromancer and saw himself rising to great heights in his flames. Due to his obsession with fire, he found dragons sacred and became obsessed with them, obsessed with the things one could do with a legion of them. The problem is, as everyone knows, that dragons have never been tamed or mounted. Despite the others' protests, this Ancient began a quest to solve both of those problems.

He crafted a dragon saddle and poured much of his raw magic into it. The spells and runes used are unknown but all the sources I've come across agree that when this Ancient tried the saddle it worked. He successfully rode and tamed a Norwegian Ridgeback. But with this newfound ability he found that his thirst for power grew as well. Using his dragon, this ancient laid waste to villages and some kingdoms and crowned himself king. He planned to create more saddles, in order to further his dream of having a legion of dragon lords at his command. When the other Ancients saw this, they cast him down out of the sky. They could not destroy the saddle but instead sealed it away so thats it magic could never be dissected to replicate its dangerous power.”

“That explains the flames ,” Hermione said once Draco had finished. “But still, I don't see how any of these things have anything to do with me.”

There was silence during which Flinkey filled up Draco's glass with more whiskey. “Snape developed the modern black flame spell. There is no other spell like it.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed.

“My theory is that Voldemort was trying to get his hands on this artifact for quite some time. In an effort to get past the barricades, he contracted Snape, while he was still young, to create a black flame spell similar to the one in the cave. Snape told Voldemort of the spell but as far as the potion to move through the flame unharmed... as far as Voldemort knew, Snape was unsuccessful in synthesizing it. But I think you know otherwise.”

She was brought back to the time when she, Harry and Ron had to pass a series of riddles to solve the mystery of the Sorcerer's Stone. Snape had used black flame as one the deterrents and had also provided a potion that allowed one to walk through the flames unharmed. But how did Draco know this? None of them had ever spoken of the details of that chamber...

“How do you know about that Malfoy?” Hermione asked irately. “Who told you?”

Draco smirked. “No one told me, per se. But how I know is irrelevant. The fact that I do know is what is important.”

Hermione couldn't argue with that logic.

Draco's voice grew somber and lost any trace of narcissistic, vitriolic sense of humor it had before. “I know that you apprenticed under Snape Hermione. I know that he left you things he trusted to no one else. He is the only person with the formula for that potion. You're the only person who knows where his books and documents are.”

Hermione couldn't speak against his accusation because it was all true. She spent two years during the war apprenticing under Snape- his knowledge was one of the reasons why she was at such a high level of Ministry government. When he died, Snape didn't see fit to leave his precious documents, books and parchments to anyone else but his trustworthy, loyal assistant. And that was how Hermione Granger ended up with an entire room filled with Snape's belongings, hidden away in her parents' basement. There were things Snape had that he didn't want falling into the wrong hands and no matter how many wards she put up on her apartment, they could always be broken. Hiding these books and documents in the muggle world was the best way to avoid someone else getting ahold of them.

“I do know where they are.”

Draco's eyes took on a predatory gleam. “So does it all make sense now Granger? Why I went through great lengths to secure your hand in marriage? I knew you had Snape's documents but I also knew that you'd never willingly give me the information I needed to find the dragon saddle.”

“Why not just use your life debt to force me into giving you the information?”

“Because while I knew you had his documents, I didn't know if you knew the contents of this particular potion. And while I could force you into retrieving the potion formula for me, I couldn't force you to remain quiet about it as well. And discretion is key in this case. I needed you wholly- for the formula and considering you apprenticed under Snape, you may be the only person who can properly brew it.

Making you my wife was the perfect solution. When I found out that Weasley ran off, I had to strike as soon as possible. I knew that if I had you in an unbreakable marriage contract, I could not only force you into making the potion, but also force you into helping me retrieve this magical artifact. And I could force you to remain quiet about it as well.”

Never did Hermione imagine that the reasons behind their marriage were so complex. She imagined he did it for political reasons, but to marry her in order to secure the dragon saddle?

And this left a very important question...

“What exactly do you intend to do with the dragon saddle once you have it Malfoy?” Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes. “Do you plan on using it to gain power as well?”

Draco laughed. “You really think so low of me Granger?”

“Yes,” was her blunt reply.

“I'm not the only one looking for it. And believe me, the others who are...you'd much rather it be in my hands than in theirs.” He paused and walked forward, laying a hand on her bare shoulder. She wretched herself from his grip and turned to glare at him. “But don't forget Granger, that while finding this artifact is of upmost importance to me, I'm still going to win our little wager. Finding the saddle will be good enough. But a chance to bed you again? That's icing on the cake.”

“You can't add the dragonfly thorax on a four second clockwise turn, you insipid girl,” Snape hissed. He was looming over her, intently watching her brew one of his complex creations. Sweat beaded Hermione's brow- the room itself was at a stiffing temperature and the heat and steam from the cauldron made her feel as though she was immersed in a hot spring. But she had to finish it. This was one of her last tests to prove to Snape that she was worthy of his tutelage.

Out of all the people in Malfoy Manor, Hermione was the only one who had a passion for potions. Snape had grudgingly taken her on as an apprentice to help him brew the massive amounts of various health potions and elixirs the Order required during the war. He couldn't do it all and Hermione Granger, as he was loath to admit, was his best bet. It began with her randomly stopping by his labs to see if he needed anything. “Extra newt's tongues Professor?” she'd asked. “Have you eaten yet professor? Do you want me to send a house elf up with some food?” Even his nastiest, most vulgar comments did nothing to deter Hermione from coming by. Eventually, Snape relented and allowed her to watch him brew potions. And after months of watching, he allowed her to brew one of his enhanced blood replenishing potions. After she successfully completed that one, Snape began to laden her with more and more responsibility.

Though spell making was still a passion of Hermione's, Snape's ingenious when it came to brewing inflamed her interest in potions. Her spell work lay forgotten in her room as she chopped bat wings and sliced up tree bark to replenish Snape's slowly disappearing ingredient stores. Her efforts were rewarding. She learned more than she ever could from a book or even from another potions master. Enduring Snape's moods was worth all of the knowledge she gleaned from him.

Two hours later, she was done with the potion and was spooning it into labeled bottles before arranging them on a bookcase in the storeroom. She could feel Snape's black eyes on her watching her every move as he stood still as stone in a corner.

“You've been helping me for how long Granger?” Snape asked after a moment of absolute silence.

“Almost two year sir.”

“Why exactly did you begin your quest to become my assistant?”

Hermione's cheeks colored. The truth was that she sort of had a thing for Snape, even during their sixth year at Hogwarts. His brooding nature and superior intellect were natural turn ons for Hermione. When he came to stay at Malfoy Manor with the rest of the Order, her crush intensified even though she knew it was fruitless, knew that Snape would probably die alone as a miserly old man. The next best thing was to learn everything she could from him. Besides her feelings, Snape was truly a one of a kind potions master, the likes of whom she'd probably never meet again. Knowledge was Hermione's drug and Snape had much of it.

“I'm waiting for a reply,” he sneered.

“I...I love knowledge as much as you do Professor. And I thought it...unfortunate that no one saw what a wealth of information you are. No one else took advantage of the situation so I did. I love Potions nearly as much as you do, so it was natural that I seek you out.”

Snape stared at her intensely for another few moments before he nodded his head, apparently accepting her explanation. “Grab a book girl. Potionibus Antiqua.”

She glanced around but saw no books, which was a little odd considering Snape's dungeon classroom at Hogwarts was lined with books, along with potions ingredients. “From where sir?”

“Through that door.” He pointed to the blank stone wall across the room. “Wave your wand in front of you and say 'open'.”

“Open? Thats it? No complicated spell or wand motion?”

“No,” the potions master snapped irately. “Just do it girl, before I change my mind.”

Hermione followed his directions and went over to stand in front of the wall. She waved her wand in front of it. “Open,” she said softly. For a moment nothing happened. Then a large section of the wall broke away and swung backwards on rusted hinges, revealing a dimly lit room whose walls were covered from ceiling to floor with bookcases. Everything from ingredients to books to rolled up maps to odd looking trinkets made their homes on these dusty shelves. At the far end of the room was a large wooden chest, bound with iron strips, it's front boasting a large, complex looking lock.

“Go in,” Snape urged. “Its to the left.”

Next to an old onyx globe studded with golden dots was an ancient looking book, bound in supple leather. She carefully slid it out of its place and used her sleeve to wipe the dust from the front cover. The title was printed in a delicate silver scrawl but there was no author. Hermione brought it over to Snape and held it out to him. He took it from her, holding it reverently as though it was made of glass. Very carefully, he used the tips of his fingers to open the book and flip through the pages.

“This is the only surviving copy of this book,” Snape explained, sensing her urgent desire for a history of Potionibus Antiqua. “Only ten were written by Adrianus Barnabus and five were destroyed during the Spanish Inquisition. Two were lost on a voyage to the Americas. One made it to England but was unfortunately water damaged. And the last two were bought from a drunk who had inherited them from his Italian great grandfather by Albus Dumbledore. He gave one copy to me on my twentieth birthday. His copy, he destroyed himself.”

“This is amazing,” Hermione said breathlessly as she stared at the book from the opposite side of the table. She read a little bit of latin and could translate some words she caught glimpses of as Snape moved towards the middle of the tome. Floating Potion, she read to herself, potion of water and fire, black flame potion, potion of golden li-”

Snape snapped the book shut. Hermione looked up and found him staring at her, eyes narrowed and icy. “I never told you to read it Granger.”

Biting back a snappy response, she instead complimented him on his extensive book collection. “Its absolutely wonderful. But why do you have it hidden away?”

“My collection is worth more than the entire Malfoy library,” the dour potions master explained. “If Lucius or anyone else with a less than reputable reputation got a hold of the things I own, it'd be disastrous.”

“But won't the wards on the Manor let Lucius know about a secret room in his own house?”

Snape laughed, a tight brittle sound that sounded like dead leaves crunched beneath the heel of a boot. “I helped that bastard recreate the ancient Malfoy wards. Believe me Granger, I know how to get around them.”

He opened back up Potionibus Antiqua and flipped through it until he got to Potionabus Aetherea. “Ethereal Potion. This is one of the most complex potions that exists Granger.” He turned the book around so that it was right side up for her. Hermione squinted and ran a finger down the ingredients list.

“I can get the Ecicinea bark by tomorrow if you need it,” she told him. Snape was on a very strict property probation and could not leave to get ingredients by himself anymore.

“Good,” he answered shortly.

The potion was extremely complicated, as the potions master warned. It required perfect turns and the right temperature to the degree. But the hardest part was that it required intuition. Some steps were vague and relied on the potion maker's judgement. For an unseasoned potioneer, this potion would be impossible and very dangerous if they attempted to brew it. But she was confident that she could do it. Working with Snape had instilled a confidence in her own intuition, a second sense about potion making. This was what had been missing in the rest of her educational endeavors.

While making potions, she felt more connected with the process. Although a book might say three lacewing flies added on a second clockwise turn, if it was particularly hot outside, one would add it on the first turn. Or if snake skin wasn't properly dehydrated, one had to add two drops of salamander blood. Potion making was intricate but it required deduction that wasn't taught in school or in textbooks.

Snape said, “If you can make this Granger, then you will have passed. I will sign all the paperwork you need to start on your quest to become a potions mistress. And not just any potions mistress, mind you. I don't deal with mediocrity. Copy down the directions and make sure you don't miss anything.”

Hermione quickly took out her notebook and the ball point pen she kept tucked behind her ear. She wrote everything down, word for word, but didn't bother to translate the Latin to English. Keeping the language the potion was written in was extremely important because even the smallest detail lost in translation could have disastrous consequences.

It took her nearly another month to assemble the correct weights of all of the ingredients, some of which were extremely difficult to find. Once all of the preparation was done, Hermione spent nearly three days holed up in the dungeons, tending to the potion. On the fourth day, Snape came through the door, face pinched with its usually pallid complexion.

“I finished it sir,” Hermione said, pushing back a curtain of frizzy hair from her face. “Its done.”

The potions master walked over to the cauldron and peered into it. The potion was as described, a clear, viscous looking liquid that smelt like lemons. Using a large ladle, he spooned some of the concoction into a small vial. He observed it from all angles once again before taking a swig, ignoring the loud protests from his protege.

“Hit me,” Snape said once he had swallowed.

Hermione hesitated but after remembering all the nasty things he said to her over the past two years, she wasted no time in punching him on the shoulder. To her surprise, her fist glanced off of him, as if it had been pushed aside by some invisible force.

“Wow,” Hermione said reverently. “Hit me too Professor.”

Snape reached out to pull on her hair. But she didn't feel anything and only saw him pulling back his hand. “It worked!” she said happily.

“It did,” Snape admitted, looking down at his hands. “I honestly didn't think you'd actually be able to do it.”

She could only smile smugly as Snape looked over her potion once again.

“Get all of this bottled and put away,” he ordered.

“What exactly is this for?” Hermione asked as she grabbed a basket full of empty vials.

“For battle. If one losses their wand or does not have the energy to fight, they can drink this and avoid harm long enough to either generate more energy or escape. I thought of it just a month ago, when I told you to make it. Its the best backup to the worst case scenario.”

The potions master walked towards the door but stopped before leaving. “You have my permission to read anything you like Granger, from that room.”

“But I already had the password to get in,” Hermione pointed out. “How did you know I wouldn't go in and read everything anyway?”

“I knew you wouldn't betray my trust. Which is why I'm giving you my permission now.”

Snape left her to bottle nearly a hundred vials of Ethereal potion on her own.

A/N

So for my story's purpose, I made Snape the creator of the modern Black Flame spell, since the spell is never attributed to anyone in particular in the books. And since he created the spell, it was only natural for him to have created the modified version of the black flame potion to go along with it.
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The Tyger and The Lamb