Reflections of Erised

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. All Characters of the Potter universe alas belong to JK Rowling.


Chapter Seven: Brewing glory


‘Things in common with Potter…in common with Potter. Do I have to inform the headmaster I must work on a serious potion today?’ Spending wasteful hours in Albus’s office being compared to the boy wonder was not his idea of a good time. ‘Work on a serious potion…it mostly involves intense detailed work and a lot of sitting…you wanted to play naughty professor.’

He ignored his mind, he had work to do. He had been lucky to receive the original text of the potion translated. Which was a relief to him. Severus did not know how to read hieroglyphics. A potions colleague of his had recently sent him the correct translation from the potion he had copied from the gray book. He was lucky he had, there was a catch to one of the ingredients the wizard who wrote the gray book had translated wrong. He had even written his friend about leaving his position to go elsewhere…he didn’t need to know he didn’t think he would survive the next battle. His student had been complaining about having a vampire for a potions master for years. Who was he to deny them their little desires? If they wanted a vampire for a potions master he’d make sure they had one. Besides now that all possibilities with the potion being written incorrectly were checked, it was a simple thing for him to express owl him the needed ingredient.

He looked quickly to the clock; Hermione would be down there soon to help him with the potion. He honestly did need help with this potion. The ancient Egyptian Potions Masters were heavily into foolish wand waving, in the process of making their potions. He shook his head leave it to the ancients to overpower a potion with excess magic. Egyptian potions were amongst the most complex of processes, however many properties and theories of Herbology came from the ancients work. He snorted they had some rather obscure and at times ridiculous theories he preferred potions whose origins came from India and Persia.

He was going over the history of potions making in his mind didn’t he have something better to do? ‘Like waiting for a luscious know-it-all in your classroom?’ Reminding him of that, he used his secret door to reach his office and then classroom.

He walked into the potions classroom and sat behind his desk moving the translated potion notes when he heard a light knocking on the classroom door. He smiled with only the empty room to see it. She was here. “Enter.”

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Draco walked the darkened out door corridors of the school, it was a rather stormy day and he didn’t expect anyone to find him. He passed under the graceful stone arches without notice. He snorted as made an instinctive movement to push his unusually long hair back. His hand met air and he remembered he’d had his hair cut very short last Hogsmeade’s visit after Bellatrix had teased him about looking like his father. ‘We’re nothing alike.’ Crabbe and Goyle, his father’s spies they wanted to see if he contacted his mother, and watched him within the school constantly.

How it all started, it was amazing what effect such a small thing could have on him, perhaps the only thing that would have mellowed him a bit to ask questions of a Weasley. He smiled slyly, a very shapely Weasley with the cutest freckles on her nose. He sighed she was a Gryffindor for certain very brave but she also had an open heart that showed concearn even for he, the son of a Death Eater who tried to kill her and her friends, the son of the man who gave her the Dark Lords diary.

He would never had questioned his father it was easier to do everything he wanted…It’s not like he was ever given much credit anyway. It had happened the day before he left for Hogwarts for his sixth year, something that was worth fighting for. His mother she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen but she was cold. Or so it seemed He had heard the sounds of crying in her room. It couldn’t be his mother she never showed emotion. He didn’t want to go in there even now he could feel the sting of the hex on his cheek from when his father caught him in the hallways to find his mother during the storm. ‘Foolish’ he thought. ‘He’s in Azkaban.’

He walked in. The room was in cool tints and almost all furniture was as delicate as the lady of the room. This room was forbidden to him for so long he looked at the very feminine décor with a sneer as he treasured the femininity of it. “Mother I heard someone crying…was a house elf sacked?”

She turned around panicked her face was red and blotchy and tears were still in her eyes she dropped a red book from her hands. He recognized it as one of those red books that poppy gave to the girls…but why would his mother need one. “No son…everything’s well.”

Yes…he’d believe that. He snorted “Indeed.” ‘Perhaps he shouldn’t have spent that much time with his godfather?’ He moved into the room quickly and handed the book to his mother with careful consideration to the page. It was flipped to the end of the book; he didn’t blink when he saw the words, pregnancy indication charm. He handed the book back to her and bowed “very well mother.” Before leaving.

‘Could mother be pregnant?’ She wasn’t a very old witch she was about thirty something. But his father was taken away before the end of sixth year…wouldn’t she be showing by now? ‘I have to learn that charm and find out.’ He remembered seeing some books in his father’s library that contained such spells, as his mother was looking at with the exception of the light the charm cast back indicating how far along the witch was. It was in a less desirable text of his fathers it was mostly an all-purpose pure bloods charms book with little to no Dark arts. He did however modify a charm from it during his second year into a hex of an unending nosebleed. He found what he was looking for and made plans.

He cast the charm on his mother as he left for the Hogwarts express. His Mother had uncharacteristically taken him herself to see him on the train. As he turned to enter he cast the charm on his mother…it was pink with a ring of purple. His mother was three months along; his father had been in Azkaban at that point. This didn’t worry him however in about six months he would have a baby sister. A sister his father would know he did not sire. His thoughts of his father’s retribution for such a betrayal were not pleasant he had seen his fathers dungeon and heard screams when he was down there. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He did know that no one would harm his mother or sister not while he was alive, he would use all of his guile and trickery to hide them from harm; to do so, he would even make a deal with the devil. That twinkle in the headmaster’s eyes could look frighteningly demonic at times.

How things had changed and he hoped for the better…as for his relationship with Ginevra. He sighed he didn’t want to be a danger to her but it had been taken out of his hands. Why she was chosen to be the secret keeper he didn’t know, he hoped the lemon head had good reason. She was a friend and confident to him when nothing felt solid or safe…more then a friend he must admit. He smirked he didn’t choose his friends well did he? Well just as well the Weasley girl had chosen him and remained his friend through all his sarcasm and smarmy comments.

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Well here she was again in front of the Potion class doors. ‘Breathe Hermione it’s Snape I’m sure he doesn’t want a hormone crazy know-it-all destroying this highly caustic potion. He asked because this potion is serious work. How about the last work he did that was nice?’ She blushed she didn’t need to think about Severus…professor Snape in her knickers now it was too distracting. ‘How about Professor Snape in his knickers? That would be good,’ she thought as she knocked on the potions class door. She heard him clearly say enter.

She entered the room. Professor Snape sat behind his desk looking at the papers in front of him. He looked up at her and a slight smirk touched his lips. She walked into the room a little unsure in ways this was more nerve racking then she thought showing up for a detention would be. A lot of trust was being placed in her abilities what if she failed?

“Come in Ms. Granger…and do close the door.”

She allowed the door to close behind her watching it shut. Well, now she was here alone in a room with him again. ‘To brew a potion, do you think he’ll kiss you again?’ She was hoping he would…this potion had a lot of breaks in the brewing process she had noticed. He did look different though he only had on a light robe black and silk shirt also black. She walked up to his desk. “Professor?”

He sighed …”You can call me by my first name I did give you permission.”

“You said in your rooms…” Did he say only in his rooms…how often would she be there? She looked around, one of the parchments on his desk was a rough fibrous paper and very colorful. He noticed her eyes.

“You may study them if you wish Hermione…although I must say the original potions formula in its native writing is useless to me.”

“It’s Egyptian.” She looked at the scroll amazed.

“Yes and very ancient…I’d call my colleague foolish for sending the original.”

“Can I see?”

“Very well.” He handed her the ancient papyrus scroll looking at her with his eyebrow arched. His hand brushed hers as he handed it to her sending a spark of heat to her center she shivered in reaction. She shook her head and looked at the formula. She had never seen a potions formula in hieroglyphics. It was not that different from looking at a copy of the Book of the Dead or ancient poetry. She even found she could translate parts of it however many hieroglyphs were unrecognizable to her. She could translate hieroglyphics to a point. She did live in London, which contained one of the best exhibits of Egyptian artifacts in the world besides Cairo. The culture of Ancient Egypt and their magic had been a fascination for her when she was young, it was not that difficult to read and translate basic hieroglyphs. She would guess this was from an early dynasty. The work was exquisite. Why would the cartouche of the God Anubis be on this potion? However it spoke of a priestess who hid her purity to set a trap for a God…that was all she could translate. “It comes with a legend Professor…but I can’t translate all of it.”

“Yes well you don’t have to translate it I have the translation.”

“Does it say what happened to the priestess?”

“What?”

“The priestess, the one in the legend who used the potion to trap a god.”

“No Hermione…” Oh. She had wanted to know what happened to her.

“The translation only contains the formula.” He looked at her with an amused look. “If you wish I can enquire my colleague about the legend?” He handed her another parchment his hand brushing hers again to the same effect, this time he kept his fingers around hers as they both looked at the potion. She felt his heat beside her and it excited her in an odd way…she liked the feeling.

‘His heat.’ She remembered his heat and weight holding her legs down as he teased her skin with his hands. His slightly calloused, delicate yet strong fingers had felt wonderful on her. Different then when any other boy had touched her…not that she had many such experiences. She had felt his warmth at the end of her third year when he had held her and Potter back from Lupin it had felt good then. It didn’t elicit the response it did being next to him now but she had liked his scent. She turned her head and subtly inhaled…he still had the same scent. Why did it affect her differently now?

“Shall we begin now…Hermione?”

She looked up “what did he say?”

“Ms. Granger…”

‘Oops, begin right. Don’t think about the snarky but sexy professor.’ She looked down at the parchment…much was missing from the gray book the creation of the potion required directed thought and empathy. She breathed and tried to clear her mind…this was sometimes a necisary in some of the more advanced potions.

She felt a firm hand guide her through the office as she stared down at the scroll becoming aware of his touch and hiding her blush in the parchment. The warmth of his hand imprinted itself through her robes as he led her through the office to a secret door that appeared she was being lead into a darkened room. She looked up at him his black eyes were studying her slightest reaction intensely she decided catching her breath. The room was the same as before, but with a little less lighting and the fireplace was bare. She could see his leather chairs out if the side of her vision. She stopped in the room; the presence of the location made the events of that night more real then a fantasy.

“Hermione…”

His voice was cool leaving a question at the end of it. She looked at his face quickly, his lips were not as tight as usual and while he appeared slightly tense the light in his eyes was almost wistful. Her face heated further at her discovery. “Per…haps we should start that potion…before I’m late for curfew?” ‘Great, that was intelligent Hermione this is preparation for a final battle with evil. With war only a few days away does curfew really matter?’

“Your Right Ms. Granger…however I believe in light of the special circumstances of your work the rules on curfew can be bent.” His voice was his usual classroom voice. He turned to her holding out a hand.

She looked at his eyes as she reached for it his warm skin against her palm felt quite intimate. She felt a curious heat form where her hand was clasped with his. She looked down on the light skin and long fingers of his hand. ‘Fingers that were….’ Perhaps she should just focus on finishing the potion.

He led her into another room. This room was rather light for a room in the dungeons it seemed. The stones in the walls were lighter, there were windows high up that let in light that shown through on the potions lab floor. The ceiling was rather high and another level with stairs lead up to a loft. There was a saccharine scent to the air that was coming from the caldron on a large table. She looked at the caldron. The potion inside had a strong sweet scent to it that was cloying in the lab. According to the notes she had read the potion was nearing its second and most difficult stage. She looked at the note to make sure it said what it meant. The gray book had mentioned the heart of a crocodile however she had thought that was the fanciful notes of writer. The papyrus scroll had mentioned one as well…the translation of the scroll had stated the impotence of one as well finely slivered. Professor Snape had never taught them how to properly cut a crocodiles heart. ‘How would you even get one?’

“Professor perhaps you could show me how to prepare this ingredient…do we even have one…how did you get one?”

“I assume your talking about the heart…Yes I managed to acquire one from an acquaintance, as for where he acquired it, I’d rather not contemplate such an event. Come here Hermione…it would not be prudent to have a class for teaching the techniques of this particular ingredient…” He held out his hand to her. “Come”



‘Come, wouldn’t you like to use this sentence in a different context?’ Not now he needed to concentrate. He knew what was wrong with the potion in the gray book it was a less potent version of the one he was making now, it also required more time…something he didn’t have. He never did master that potion.

Hermione did look good today, her cheeks were still slightly flushed as she walked over to him and stood still. That wouldn’t do at all. “Over here in front of me.” He gestured her in front of him. ‘All you have is a potions lesson in mind right Severus?’ He ignored himself, how did one tell oneself to bugger off? “Bring the red jar with you.” ‘Are you thinking with the right brain now?’

She turned away from him to grab the jar. Her hair swayed from a shoulder as she did exposing her delicate nape. She touched it and dropped it as if the jar bit her. “Is something wrong, Ms. Granger?” ‘Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, this is not a …time for naughty professor fantasies!’

“It’s...” She looked at the jar horrified, “Beating, Professor.” She looked half way disgusted and halfway fascinated.

He shook his head, this particular student had always been trouble wasn’t it a relief he was sorted into Slytherin. He snorted, “sick joke.” He pulled his wand from his robes and swept it commandingly upwards in a spell. “Subsisto visco.” The heart within the jar stopped its beating.

“I’ve never heard that charm.” The young woman next to him said, as she looked amazed and yet wary of the jar.

“Not many have…it’s from a field of magic that is very notorious for misuse.” Did she have to ask so many questions? ‘You will behave in a reasonable fashion and answer them civilly.’ She did look good here in his lab. Perhaps he should have put a larger cot in here? He was not seducing the girl on his potions lab floor. ‘Why ever not…it used to be a bedroom? Indeed only to sadists who liked the sun in their eyes at five in the morning. Salazar Slytherin was insane.’

He looked at her his eyes searing, something was making the girl nervous. “I’d say you’re sensitive to certain magic’s, Hermione…” His smile was slight and sinister directed at her. “Did those spells make you nervous?” He said with a purr. ‘What are you trying to do scare her away? Now is not the time to get nervous and act in self-preservation.’

Hermione blinked at him her full lashes covering her chocolate brown eyes from his view for a second. He pulled her hand towards him; his body was almost boneless and gave no resistance. Her body felt small and delicate against his wide chest. Her heat sunk into him through the layers of fabric he was wearing sinking into his skin. Concentrate. He removed the heart carefully from the jar. Keeping the heart beating was certainly one way of keeping ingredients fresh. He felt Hermione move further back into his chest plastering the nape of her back against his groin. Please don’t notice anything. How could she possibly ignore that? It was getting to the point where she only had to be in the same room with him and he became hard. It made many stays a Grimmauld Place no matter how short, rather uncomfortable.

He took her soft smaller hand in his. “Pick up the knife.”

She nodded and picked it up. He held his hand around hers holding the knife securely. Her hand felt delicate, soft, and fragile in his.

“What do I do, P…Severus?” Her large eyes gazed into his as she turned around in his arms brushing against his body.

“We cut up a Rabbits heart. I believe in your fourth year,…do you remember the technique?”

She nodded at him.

“It’s not that dissimilar except the required cuts are of a much finer nature.” ‘Right, Severus, you need to be here to guide her hands…’ He kept his hand over the one she was using to hold the ingredient but he didn’t need to she was cutting the item rather well. Her brushing against him as she moved was distracting.

“Pro…Severus do you want me to cut them like this?” She looked at him gesturing to his arms around her and his body behind hers. She didn’t draw away from him like he was a vampire. She found a comfortable spot and sunk into his chest it seemed her heat covering him. His hand unconsciously traced the smoothness of her skin with a long finger running it back and forth over the texture of her hand. He shuddered at the thought of her in his arms without any fabric separating them. He wanted to her the soft skin of her back with his bare cock he wanted to rub against her as he held her to him and nibbled her delicate neck.

He was surprised he had not botched this very important potion yet. Nothing but a full confession and how he destroyed such a precious ingredient and a paper on the event most likely would be needed to get him another one. Former students of his who pursued potions after Hogwarts to become masters could be real pricks about revenge.

“I’m finished, Severus!” She then turned to add the required amount of the heart to the potion.

He looked down the scent of the potion had changed as its color turned bright blue. It was a very sweet scent with a spicy note now instead of being overwhelmingly saccharine.

“Is that the right color?” Hermione said as she leaned over the table lifting herself up on her toes to get a higher view of the potion. As she leaned over his length that was cupped at the nape of her back was brushed down her fabric-covered cheeks to be cupped at the base of her thighs. His hand over her covered it feeling her delicate bones under his hand. He groaned.

‘Gods Hermione you’re killing me.’ “Gods Hermione you’re killing me.” How could he have possibly said that out loud?


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AN: Thank you Amethyst!
Latin to English:
Subsisto is a word for stop, cease, and desist
Visco is a word for the inner organs including the heart.
Could this spell stop a heart beating in someone’s chest…perhaps?