Don't sue me, the characters and location and everything bar the words are not mine.
Thank you for taking an interest, please continue to do so, I've been buzzing constantly.
CHAPTER TWO
In an hour, Harry would once again have to descend into the dungeons for his Occlumency lesson. Normally, it would weigh heavily in his mind and his stomach felt full of stones. Now, it was different. Now, he had a plan. Well, he almost had a plan. He still didn't know what he would make Snape learn, or indeed how. Snape was not the sort to take orders or wagers, not from a student, and certainly not from Harry Potter, hated son of his childhood foe. Coming up with the plan was easy, but the execution seemed almost impossible. This was out of his field altogether, he needed the smart one for this: he needed Hermione. She hadn't mentioned where she was going, but anyone could guess. He headed for the library.
There she was, sat by herself in the furthest table obviously engrossed in an enormous old book. Harry privately suspected she selected reading material by weight. He sat across from her and coughed to announce his presence. Her head shot up with incredible speed, a perfect imitation of a startled gazelle. Perhaps Umbridge's sickening habit was encroaching into his life, much like the foul toad herself. He shuddered, and filed a mental note never to do that again.
"Oh, thank Merlin," she said breathlessly, "for a moment I thought it was her!" Harry blushed with embarrassment, any association with Umbridge was more than he could stand, however tenuous. "So, what's wrong?" she queried. "Something must be up, you don't come here voluntarily."
Harry had to smile, he would be offended but she was absolutely right. The library at Hogwarts, vast and brimming with the accumulated knowledge of thousands of years of wizarding history as it was, had never held the same allure for him. Of course, nobody loved books the way Hermione did. She read voraciously and at tremendous speed, yet she retained everything. He was sometimes amazed that her brain didn't collapse under the pressure.
"I have had an idea." He announced it as casually as he could, but the smirk on his face betrayed his glee. Hermione pulled her best stern face; "Harry, you can't upset her again! She-"
"No, no, it's not her. I am staying out of trouble," He noticed that her countenance had developed into suspicion, "Honestly, it's not!" Her expression softened, and morphed into intrigue. Heartened, he related his grand plot; subtly increasing his speed just a little, half hoping that if it came out faster she'd forget to berate him.
"... So that's why I need to teach him. I need to make him human; I need to show him that he does have weaknesses." Harry scrunched up his eyes nervously in preparation for the oncoming storm. It never came. He opened his eyes wide, and looked at Hermione. Her brow had that gentle furrow, the same one she had when working on an exceptionally challenging Arithmancy problem. Then came the hum of deep thought that was so very Hermione. He imagined her like a clock mechanism, sound being the only indication of the lightning fast cogs hidden within.
"Well, obviously it would have to be violin" she stated very matter-of-factly. Hermione tried not to imagine her professor's long elegant fingers arching over the fingerboard, his eyes unfocused and distant in the blissful gift of sound and vision. She wasn't sure why the image appealed to her, but she had always appreciated skill and knowledge. If she was honest, even the power of Lord Voldemort, great and terrible as it was, impressed her. Naturally hate and fear were far more intense emotions when she considered the dark lord, but a part of her felt sad that his talents had been so gravely misapplied. In another world, he could have been the most brilliant and progressive force for good ever to have graced wizardkind. Instead, he was a monster unaware of how misguided his ideals were. He believed himself the grand reformer, holding in his hands the future of wizardry. He was unaware that as a man he had already failed. Far from furthering the progress of his kind, he was holding back everyone; pureblood, half-blood, muggle-born and muggle alike. Given the opportunity he would destroy them all, some intentionally, others accidentally. He was simultaneously a genius and a hopeless fool. She almost found herself pitying him, and then caught herself. Pitying Lord Voldemort, the former man and current devil with no facility for love left, if he ever had one at all. It was ridiculous, it was pointless, it was futile, yet it was what separated them. It was what made Harry strong and Voldemort weak. It was what made her certain that they would fight, and Harry would win.
"That's a good idea, 'Mione, but the real problem is how to get him to take it up. He's never going to just take a suggestion: 'Hey, Snape, you're a total git, but I think if you played a muggle instrument and learned what it's like to be bad at something you might sort yourself out'. That's not going to wash!" Harry said it jokingly, but Hermione accepted his point.
"Harry, this isn't going to be easy, and I need more time to think. It's almost time for your lesson. Just tolerate him; hopefully I'll come up with something." Harry would have thanked her, but she already had her nose back in the book. He walked away, feeling apprehensive. As he stepped out of the library, Hermione could've sworn she heard Harry softly mutter something like "I'll give him bloody remedial potions!" she smiled indulgently; she could never admit it, but she loved it when they had a plan.