Chapter 7: The Lesson
It had been a difficult week for Hermione.
First, there was Ron. So far she had done a poor job of dealing with the situation, opting instead to avoid him, and that was not an easy thing to do. Before the night she'd had with him, they had spent almost every free moment together. Now, she was forced to make excuses to be elsewhere between classes, making a point to avoid places Ron might be. The one time she didn't have to worry about dealing with Ron was every night around 8 pm, and then she had her own, entirely different set of concerns.
Because, of course, that meant time alone with Malfoy. It was almost a lucky thing that the potion was so difficult – the previous night, they had essentially no need to speak to each other. They'd had a wailing mandrake, a series of escaped flobberworms, and some errant leeches infecting the fluxweed, all of which they'd had to juggle while shouting instructions. They hadn't had the opportunity to discuss her brandishing her wand in his face, much less his response. To some extent, she was relieved; it was much easier to pretend it hadn't happened.
But it had happened, and as much as it relieved her that he was ignoring it, the more it haunted her that she couldn't forget. Whatever it was about him that she couldn't identify – whatever that "intensity" was that she'd tried to convey to Harry – she'd seen it up close when he'd pinned her to the ground. She thought she'd seen something in his eyes with him that close to her; his glacial cool had threatened to crack.
It certainly wasn't helping her concentrate.
She wasn't particularly focused at the moment, lazily holding her head up with on her palm as she traced mindless patterns over the pages of her book. She'd finished her work ages ago, but hiding out in the library seemed like the wisest place to keep to herself. She had tried spending time with Luna or Ginny, but she found that without telling them what was going on in her personal life, she was forced to tell more lies – or at least, omit more truths – than she wanted to.
She picked up her quill and let it linger over a piece of parchment, dripping ink while her mind wandered. She should be furious at Malfoy for manhandling her like that. Why wasn't she?
Maybe because I wasn't totally innocent, she thought. She smiled in spite of herself. She'd felt victorious for a few moments, before he'd wrestled her to the ground, and even after he'd left, she still felt a sense of triumph from hitting Malfoy where it hurt. She'd been right, of course; in many ways she surpassed him in ability and intellect. But while she'd spent so many years hating him, she had spent the last week or so finding that the more she learned about him, the more interesting she found him.
"Does he challenge you?"
She heard Malfoy's words about Ron echo in her mind and she shook her head vigorously, trying to erase the thought. If Ron wasn't a challenge, then why couldn't she look him in the eye?
"Hermione! There you are."
She suppressed a groan as Harry enthusiastically pulled out a chair next to her. Ron followed closely, smiling tentatively at her.
"Hi Harry. Hello Ron," she said, nodding politely at him. She immediately felt guilty when she saw him stiffen.
"Where have you been?" Ron asked quietly, pulling out a chair for himself. She opened her mouth to speak – reaching into her vast library of excuses – but Harry interrupted, ignoring the tension between them.
"So – tell me about your potion."
"Oh really, Harry?" she said, a bemused smile on her face. "You're interested in discussing my work?"
"Fine," he said, shaking his head in concession. "I want to hear about Malfoy."
"Now hold on just a second," she said quickly, straightening. "What about you? What about your potion? Haven't you tried getting anything out of Nott?"
She pretended not to notice that Ron was sulkily staring at his lap.
"No," Harry said with frustration. "Theo Nott is an absolute arse, we haven't even worked on our potion yet – "
"You haven't started?" she exclaimed, mortified.
"He's a git, I can't work with him," Harry said impatiently. "So what if I fail Potions, it's not a big – "
"It's not just Potions, it's Defense Against the Dark Arts, too – "
"Which I'll probably fail anyway, considering Snape is grading – "
"He wouldn't fail Nott, you know he wouldn't – "
"Stop bickering and just tell us what you and Malfoy have been up to," Ron yelled suddenly, scowling.
Harry and Hermione both stared at him.
"What's gotten into you?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow.
"Nothing," growled Ron. "That's what we're here for, aren't we? That's all she's got time for, apparently."
"But you're being so . . . shouty," Harry said back. Harry was looking suspiciously between the two of them, trying to solve the mystery of why Hermione was averting her eyes and Ron sat tight-lipped, crossing his arms aggressively.
Thank goodness, Hermione thought, Harry is so wildly oblivious.
"I'm sorry Ronald, did you say you wanted to know what Malfoy and I have been up to?" she said slowly, facing him. "You're curious what we, as a unit, have been doing?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact," he said bluntly. "Holed up in there every night – "
"Listen," she retorted impatiently, "Obviously you and Harry have, as usual, opted to ignore your schoolwork. Have you looked at the instructions for Sanare Pura?"
"Yes, but – "
"Have you noted the time requirements?"
"I did – "
"So you know, then, that I have no choice but to spend all my time working on it?"
"Ye – "
"And you were there, were you not," she pressed, "when Snape assigned Malfoy as my partner?"
"Okay, I – "
"So we are all clear, then, that whatever you're accusing me of is entirely ridiculous," she exclaimed. "I don't want to hear it again!"
Ron's face reddened; he mumbled a quiet apology. By the time they both returned their attention to Harry, his eyes simply darted between them, still trying to put the puzzle together.
"Before either of you say anything else stupid," Hermione continued, "I did overhear something strange between Malfoy and Snape."
"Malfoy and Snape, really?" Harry said greedily, eyes wide. "Tell us."
Ron remained passively uninterested.
"I was on the seventh floor," she began. "By accident."
"Oh really, by accident," Ron sneered. "I'm sure – "
"Shut up, Ron," Harry interrupted. "Go on, Hermione."
"I overheard Snape asking Malfoy how his – I don't remember exactly how he phrased it. I think he asked how his assignment was going," she said, squinting slightly as she tried to recall.
"Assignment?" Harry exclaimed. "That's it. I knew it. Malfoy's a Death Eater."
"Don't you want to hear anything else?" Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
"Fine. What else?"
"He said something about Malfoy 'blocking his thoughts.' I think Malfoy might be using occlumency."
"Malfoy was blocking his mind from Snape?" Harry bit his lip, pondering. "Why would he do that?"
Hermione shrugged. "It was difficult to tell whether or not they were on the same side. Whatever help Snape was offering, Malfoy wasn't having it."
Harry shook his head, bewildered. "I guess," he said slowly, "if Snape is on our side – "
"Which he is, Harry, for the last time, Dumbledore trusts him – "
" – then Malfoy as a Death Eater makes sense. Maybe he's trying to talk him out of something."
"I really don't think that's what it was," Hermione said, cocking her head slightly. "It really seemed like Snape was trying to help him with whatever he was doing."
There was a pause as they all considered this information.
"Why would Malfoy need to use occlumency?" Harry said, after a few moments of silence. "Seems unnecessary. And he's good enough to repel Snape?"
"Sounded that way," Hermione said, nodding. She hadn't considered this; Malfoy using advanced magic against Snape? She fought hard not to be impressed. "And Snape is a very good legilimens, isn't he?"
Harry wrinkled his nose. "Better than I am, definitely," he said. "But then again I'm not a slimy git, or a two-faced – "
She raised a hand to stop him. "We see your point, Harry."
"I think, objectively," Harry began, slowly, "and as much as it pains me to admit it, Malfoy being a good occlumens might be important information. Who would he need to hide information from? And well enough that he could hide it from Snape?"
"I really don't know," Hermione said, shrugging.
"And who did he learn it from, if not Snape?"
"This is all very boring," Ron said suddenly, standing. "Hermione, I need to talk to you."
"Ron, we're in the middle of a conversation, can't it wait?" Hermione snapped. She realized she and Harry had been leaning towards each other, edging Ron out.
"No, it can't."
Harry shrugged, sitting back in his chair. "By all means, carry on."
Hermione stood slowly, gathering her things. "See you in class, Harry."
"Yeah, see you," he said absentmindedly, his thoughts already consumed elsewhere.
Ron gripped Hermione's arm, pulling her into a quiet corner of the library.
"You're avoiding me, Hermione," he said. His blue eyes were wide with accusation.
She shook her head, sticking to her lie. "I'm not avoiding you, I have a lot of work – "
"Do you think I don't know you, Hermione?" he said, placing both hands on her shoulders. "Do you think I don't know when you're lying to me?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, I – "
"You've had your work finished for days. And maybe you're telling the truth about your potion," he said, as though he didn't fully believe it, "but that still doesn't explain why I've barely caught a glimpse of you for a week."
"Maybe I'm telling the truth?" she scoffed, knocking his hands away. "Ronald Weasley, you have some nerve."
"You're not answering the question."
"What question? There's no question here. You're being unreasonable," she insisted, trying to keep her voice calm. "And if you think this is how I want to be spoken to – "
"Something amazing happened between us, Mione," he said, softening. "I want more of you, not less."
She finally looked into his eyes, gaining a bit of clarity.
"Okay," she said lamely. "I'll make more of an effort."
"Good," he exhaled, relieved. "So maybe tonight I'll – "
"Look, nothing has changed," she said hurriedly. "I still have a potion to make, every night, and I still have work to do."
"I know," he said, grinning broadly. "I just feel like things are ready to fall into place for us."
Oh boy, she thought. This is not good.
"Right," she said.
Liar.
"Let's go find Harry, shall we?" she prompted. "We don't want to be late for class."
"Right, but Mione – "
And then he pulled her back, placing both palms flat against the sides of her face, kissing her roughly. She winced as his teeth knocked into hers, again. She pulled back instantly.
"We're in the library, Ron, this is all a bit much – "
"Right, sorry," he said, grinning.
In class, she once again experienced the usual horror-turned-relief at leaving Ron to sit next to Malfoy, who got there shortly after she did. He wasn't actively rushing, but it was clear that his mind was elsewhere; she got the impression he had been interrupted.
"Quiet down," Snape announced unnecessarily.
"I hope you are all progressing smoothly with your potions," he continued. Hermione thought she saw him look pointedly at Harry. "Professor Slughorn seems to be pleased . . . so far."
The door opened suddenly, the fresh rush of air bringing with it the flowing robes of Professor McGonagall. Hermione looked briefly at Malfoy, who had no reaction. The dark circles under his eyes were still the only thing about him that didn't seem unnervingly perfect.
"Quiet, children," Professor McGonagall said, again unnecessarily. Nobody had spoken for several minutes.
"Professor McGonagall is here to announce the House Dueling Tournament," Snape said curtly. "As I'm sure you all have heard by now."
McGonagall turned her head sharply to look at Snape. "Professor, as you know, up until now the tournament has been a secret," she said.
"Which is precisely why I assumed they would have heard," Snape replied airily.
McGonagall sniffed affectedly and turned back to the class. "This year, Hogwarts will be having a Dueling Tournament for Sixth and Seventh Year students."
Now the class began to fill with whispers; Snape slammed a textbook onto his desk, causing an immediate return to silence.
"Students who wish to participate will first compete within their houses, in random pairings. The best four students per house will enter the final tournament, ending with a single winner," McGonagall continued. "The rules are simple: once you are disarmed, you are eliminated."
"You will disarm only," Snape said, glancing from Harry to Malfoy, who smirked at each other.
"Following the tournament, there will be a House Ball," McGonagall continued.
There were a few groans throughout the room.
"Silence!" McGonagall called. "It is important that our students graduate with some . . . decorum." Again, she seemed to be speaking directly to Harry and Ron.
Ron looked over his shoulder, smiling at Hermione. She felt Malfoy stifle a laugh next to her; she looked at him sharply but he merely shrugged, an amused smile on his face.
"You're so lucky, Granger – I'm sure Weasley will be the belle of the ball," he said in a low whisper.
"Shut up, Malfoy," she shot back.
She caught Ron's suspicious glare as he observed her whispering to Malfoy. She sighed, frustrated. She sensed she would be having the same conversation with him at least once more today. At least, it seemed, the tension with Malfoy seemed to have eased a bit. She almost welcomed his having Ron as a target, if it meant that the rest of her potions assignment might be a bit easier.
Hermione walked purposefully through the castle grounds, realizing she was running a bit late. It was an unusually nice day, and a number of students were outside, enjoying the freedom of a Friday afternoon. All anyone had to talk about all afternoon had been the tournament, and she found she was relieved. For once there was a bit of peace without Harry stalking Malfoy, or Ron stalking her.
She noticed a flock of girls hovering near the quidditch pitch; against her better judgment, she paused to glance at what they were eyeing. She groaned audibly when she realized that Slytherin was just concluding its quidditch practice, and that she had stopped just in time to see Malfoy step gracefully off his broom. His lips were chapped from the wind and the altitude; he slid his tongue over them once, running his gloved hand through his lightly tousled hair.
Hermione shook her head.
Bloody handsome bastard.
She noted with surprise that he seemed to ignore his female audience; he walked past Pansy Parkinson without a second glance, and didn't seem to acknowledge the Greengrass sisters, either. She turned away quickly to continue toward the castle, lest she be confused with the other hormonal twats.
"Catch the end of the show, eh, Granger?" he called.
She stopped short, trying to control the blush spreading across her face.
He was walking toward her, his usual smirk gracing his features. To her horror she caught Pansy's narrowed eyes as she turned; she instantly averted her eyes.
"You're a bit behind schedule, aren't you Malfoy?" Hermione called.
"You're not much better." He'd reached her now, and she resumed walking to match his stride.
"I'm surprised you aren't offering autographs," she said, gesturing towards the crowd that was now reluctantly dissipating.
"Mmm. A bit jealous, are we?"
"Of course not," she insisted, affronted.
"It's okay, Granger, nobody would blame you," he said smugly.
She opened her mouth to protest further, but caught a hint of amusement in his eye; realizing he was toying with her, she held her tongue. They continued on in silence until they reached the classroom.
There wasn't much to do that day. Nothing had gone wrong – thankfully – and they busied themselves right away with the new additions. Within half an hour, they'd resumed their familiar positions.
Malfoy leaned back, draping himself over the desk with his legs hanging.
He really does look tired, Hermione thought. But I wonder . . .
"Malfoy."
"What," he sighed, impatient.
"What do you know about occlumency?"
He sat up slowly, eyeing her suspiciously. "What would possess you to ask me that, Granger?"
"I'm just wondering."
"Seems like a strange thing to wonder," he said slowly. "Don't you generally just assume everyone around you is an idiot?"
"Are you upset that I thought you might possess some capabilities as a wizard? I can always just revert to – "
"Yes, Granger, I can perform occlumency."
She paused, considering her next move. "And legilimency?"
"Yes. But not as well."
"Hmm," she said thoughtfully.
He slid off the desk, standing in front of it and leaning back. "Why are you asking me about this?"
"I was," she began, pursing her lips, "I was just wondering if maybe you might . . . teach me."
He straightened, stunned. "You want me to teach you occlumency?"
"Yes."
"Why?" he asked, genuinely interested. "It won't be on any school exams."
She sighed, frustrated. "Not everything I do is for a grade!"
"I don't believe that."
"Fine, don't. Forget I asked."
They were both silent for a moment. As much as she wanted to retract her request, she was genuinely disappointed. She'd been quite jealous of Harry, actually, when he'd been taking lessons with Snape. And for some reason, it bothered her that there was something she couldn't do.
"I can try to teach you," he said slowly. "But I can't promise you that it will work."
"Why not?" she said stubbornly. "There isn't anything I haven't been able to do – "
"This is different," he said curtly.
"How?"
He looked at her sharply. His grey eyes were unusually sincere, and still, somehow, more penetrating than usual.
"This isn't an easy thing to do – "
"I can – "
He shook his head, interrupting. "It's not that it's a difficult spell. It's that you have to . . . you have to cut out a piece of yourself. You have to be able hide whatever it is that you don't want seen."
She leaned in, curious. "Seen?"
"It's not as simple as mind reading," he explained, unexpectedly patient. "People can't just read your every thought. But they'll search you for what they're looking for. They'll see what's at the forefront of your mind."
"And if they don't know what they're looking for?"
"Well, that's the trick, isn't it?" Malfoy said. "The less you betray yourself, the easier it is to hide what's in your mind."
She shook her head slowly. "I don't fully understand."
He nodded. "But if you really want to learn . . . "
"Okay." She picked up her wand and took a deep breath, standing. "What do I do?"
He paused. "I guess in terms of explanation, it's pretty simple. I'll try to see into your mind."
"And then?"
He shrugged. "Don't let me."
"Ah." She took another deep breath. "Okay."
They stood across from each other, wands up.
"Legilimens."
She instantly started to feel her thoughts creep out of her; she was jittery and nervous. An image of herself with Ron floated to the surface; first, it was their first kiss, and then memories began to seep out. She saw herself knocking on his door, walking into his room, her thin robe pulled tight around her frame . . .
"No!" she yelled, casting a shield charm around herself.
When she opened her eyes, Malfoy was grinning.
"So that's what happened the other night."
"You saw everything I saw?" she asked, dreading the answer.
"I did."
"When did you stop – "
"You pushed me out of your mind – right before the good part, I might add," he said, smirking. "There was no need for the protego, by the way. Just by conjuring anything you prevented me from going further."
"So any spell – "
"Not just any spell. Any action to break the connection at all would have been enough."
"But how do I – "
"You have to learn to compartmentalize," he said. "And that's what I'm not sure I can teach you."
"Compartmentalize?"
"Occlumency isn't normally something you do for fun, it's something you do to survive," he said bluntly. "Fear, treachery, deceit – those things are not easy to hide. Painful memories, duplicitous intentions – they float to the surface."
She nodded slowly. "What you saw wasn't anything like that, though."
"Oh really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "It was all just pure, innocent love, then?"
She ignored him.
"You know, 'mind reading' really is an oversimplification," he reminded her. "I can't just see what you show me. I can feel it, too."
"So?"
He shrugged. "So, I could feel what you felt."
"And?"
"And I know that there was more going on – for you, anyway."
Again, she chose to ignore him.
"Do it again."
He sighed. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, try me again."
"Fine."
He raised his wand again. "Try to clear your mind."
At her nod, he repeated himself.
"Legilimens."
She did everything she could to block her thoughts. Instead, she tried to fill her mind with trivialities; homework, tomorrow's visit to Hogsmeade, anything she knew Malfoy wouldn't find interesting. Quidditch. Dinner. Their potion.
Their potion . . . that was her mistake. She felt a sliver of a memory slip past her, and her heart pounded as she saw Malfoy's face as he was pressed against her.
"Get out," she rasped suddenly. "Get out of my head." She had stumbled backwards, knocking into the desk behind her. She was out of breath from the effort of forcing him away.
She glared at him, the Malfoy standing in front of her. He was looking at her oddly.
"I didn't – "
"Look, Malfoy," she said hurriedly. "If you're so good at this, then let me try."
He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it, smirking. "Fine."
This time she cast the spell, a determined look on her face as she focused on the incantation.
"Legilimens."
Nothing.
"Try again," he suggested, amused.
"Legilimens!"
Still nothing.
She sighed, conceding. "Fine, you're very good at this."
"I know."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a national treasure."
She rolled her eyes. "You made this sound like it was life or death, Malfoy. What reason would you possibly have for needing occlumency?"
The atmosphere around them suddenly shifted as Malfoy instantly stepped back. "Don't, Granger," he said coldly.
She could see she'd hit a nerve. "Are you afraid, Malfoy?" she asked, stepping toward him.
"Granger," he growled, "Don't – "
She looked directly into his eyes and raised her wand.
"Legilimens."
She was hurtled into the memory of a large dining room . . . she felt the tension in Malfoy's shoulders . . . she saw Lucius's empty eyes, Narcissa's shaking hands . . . she saw Voldemort, his wand raised, his eyes emotionless and cold . . . she saw a stranger, hanging unnaturally, pleading . . . she saw the rush of blood, seeping into the wood . . . the salty, metallic taste of fear in Malfoy's mouth –
She staggered backwards, arms raised; she didn't want to be in that memory any more than he wanted to share it with her. She stared at him, breathing hard. She couldn't read the expression on his face, but she knew she'd done something unforgivable.
"Malfoy," she said, choking, "Malfoy, I didn't – "
He took three lunging steps forward. When he reached her, he gripped her waist firmly, almost painfully, before using one hand to angrily force her chin upwards. Her breath caught in her throat, right before he brought his lips to hers.
She gasped into his mouth, stumbling backwards. He caught her lip between his teeth and bit down, teasing a breathless whimper out of her. She gripped his forearm as he brought his hand down from where he held her chin, dragging his thumb down her throat. His other hand tightened on her waist, the kiss deepening as they found their rhythm.
This was nothing like what she had experienced until now. This wasn't the clumsy fumbling that she'd grown accustomed to; he knew when to push and when to pull, but it was more than just Malfoy being more skilled. In his arms, she didn't have to let her mind wander; there was no being anywhere else but here, with him. There was nothing she could do but let him set her on fire.
He snaked his arms around her waist, lifting her slightly as she pressed herself against him. She brought her hand to his abdomen, shuddering as she remembered the feel, the hardness of him; she let her fingers lift the seam of his team jersey ever so slightly, dying to put skin on skin. Her hand on his stomach brought both of them into a renewed frenzy, their breath intermingled as he kissed her, hard, over and over again. She was dizzy, grateful that he held her still, and only managed to breathe again when he brought his hands up to her face, entangling them in her hair. He tightened his grip, biting down hard on her lip and causing her to cry out, before he suddenly released her.
She exhaled sharply, slowly bringing a hand to her swollen lips.
"What did you just – "
"Don't worry, Granger," he said abruptly, his eyes blazing. "I won't let you in again."
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters
The last reviews totally floored me, thank you so much for your amazingly kind words! I'm just as excited to write this as some of you are to read it, and I love hearing what you have to say.
