A/N – Hi wonderful readers, thank you as always for the lovely feedback and encouragement for this story!
I just wanted to give you a heads up, I will not be making my Sunday update next week and chapter 24 will be updated the following Sunday instead. This past week has been tough for my family due to Covid. Please social distance as you are able and stay safe with your loved ones.
I am so sorry to delay the next update; chapter 24 is titled The Singles Day Party and will be posted on 4/26.
Chapter 23: The First Lesson
January
Year 6
Hermione tapped her quill against her cheek, chewing the tip lightly as she pondered the assignment on her desk. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise, paired with the uncanny feeling of being watched. Peeking out of the side of her eye, she caught Draco three seats away, staring at her lips.
The corner of her mouth perked up. It brought her immeasurable joy to see him acting like himself again. If only for a moment. She tried not to take these moments for granted, not knowing how many they had left together.
Her ring heated.
You
She watched the text change before her eyes.
Me
Hermione hid a smile behind her fist.
Broom closet?
She fought the urge to hold her hand against her chest in faux shock as she replied.
Yes
Following class, Hermione slipped into the broom cupboard adjacent to their classroom. A rush of exhilaration passed over her at his boldness. She sat down on the table that lined the back wall, swinging her feet impatiently as she waited.
Ten minutes came and went, she nearly considered leaving when suddenly the door flew open. Draco took rapid steps towards her, a glint in his eye.
"Draco Malfoy, how scandalous of you, whatever shall I—" Hermione's teasing protestation was interrupted by Draco's lips capturing hers greedily.
"I can't believe—" he kissed her again, "—that I went—" he closed his eyes, leaning into her, "—so long without these lips."
Hermione squeaked as he hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her down off the table and into a spin. She wrapped her arounds around his neck, slipping her fingers into his hair.
"Just what was the inspiration for this little rendezvous?" She asked with delight, "You know I'm going to see you tomorrow for our first occlumency lesson."
"Oh, nothing much, I just spent an entire class watching my witch with her quill between her—"
The door to the broom closet opened, light flooded the room. Draco instinctively stepped in front of Hermione.
"Oh my god. Finally!" The voice exclaimed in triumph.
Hermione hid her face in her hands, blushing furiously.
"How did you know we were here?" Hermione's voice was distorted behind her hands.
"I have class next door; I saw lover boy here sneaking into the broom closet and I just had to be certain that he wasn't seeing another witch." Amelia shrugged, "I know an appropriate hex or two that could put him out of commission for a while thanks to a certain someone," she winked at Hermione.
Draco glared in offense, "Excuse you, young lady—"
Amelia continued haughtily, "And just for your information, because the two of you think you're so sneaky, I had to squash some rumours floating around the Hufflepuff common room about a certain set of noises heard echoing down the halls outside Slughorn's Christmas party." She raised her brows matter-of-factly, "Anything you'd like to let me know about?"
Hermione's face morphed into one of horror as she turned to Draco accusingly, "I told you we should've silenced the room!"
"Wasn't my first concern at the moment," Draco grumbled under his breath, "if you do recall, I was a bit preoccupied."
"Don't you worry, I did damage control. Though they do think there's a new moaning ghost flying around the school along with Myrtle." Amelia snorted, "I called her 'Whimpering Wendy' which was a real hit with the third years."
Hermione's flush spread to her neck. Draco tried to cover his laugh with a cough.
"Honestly, I couldn't be happier with this development. The two of you have been utterly ridiculous this year; I'm glad you finally listened to me." Amelia announced, crossing her arms in front of herself victoriously.
"Listen to you?" Draco looked to Hermione in puzzlement and back to Amelia, "I don't understand. When did we listen to you?"
Amelia rolled her eyes, "Men, am I right?" She asked Hermione who looked equally confused.
"Gods, you two are oblivious. You'd better name your children after me for all the trouble you've caused. Sometimes, I think I'm the one who adopted you." Amelia declared, stomping out of the broom cupboard.
Hermione sputtered; the room was dark once more.
"Does she just go around patrolling the broom cupboards and empty classrooms looking for us?" Draco asked, staring at the closed door.
"Honestly, no idea. I swear she has a sixth sense for this kind of thing."
"Also, when did we adopt Amelia?"
Hermione tilted her head back and forth as she pondered, "I think it was during the bullies to be honest. She almost called you 'dad' at the end of last year when she was complaining about how you handled the Tomas thing."
"She's still too young to date," he grumbled under his breath, "all the boys are wankers at that age."
She chucked, "Think if you told her to go to her room that she'd listen to you?"
"When has she ever listened to me?" Draco sighed, exasperated, "Children."
"Oh, our little Hufflepuff."
"Going to be quite confusing around the home if we do name kids after her," Draco started, raising his brows jokingly at Hermione.
"You mean how will we distinguish her from little Amelia and little Amelio?" She quipped, laughing into his shoulder.
"Merlin, those better not be the names you pick for our future children." He looked completely appalled, "Those names would look ridiculous embroidered on a serviette."
"Oh, the serviettes," she lamented dramatically, "obviously the first consideration when naming a child. However shall we survive without properly embroidered serviettes?"
Draco put on his best aristocratic voice, "This is the type of thing that separates us from the peasants," he tried not to smile, "thousands of years of utterly useless traditions."
"Are we doomed to follow all the Malfoy traditions?" She mused.
"Mother won't be happy about it, but we can forge our own path. I mean, for example, it's a tradition for Malfoys to have just one child each. But for you, I'll have as many as you want—as long as that number is no more than three."
"Amelia, Amelio," Hermione paused thoughtfully, "and Hermione Jr."
"Tragic if we have two boys and a girl," Draco replied theatrically.
"Hermione Jr. will have to learn to live with his name." She let out a snort, his eyes widened in mirth as she covered her face with horror.
He gently moved her hand, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose.
"Hermione Jr. will have a lot to live up to with that name."
"Assuming my reputation is still intact by then. That means that you, sir, will have to stop dragging my unsuspecting innocent self into abandoned broom cupboards. You are tarnishing my name; I am a lady." Hermione quipped, "If we keep this up, the ghosts will believe the castle is infiltrated with intruders."
Draco sighed a considerable exhale, "I suppose there are enough moaning and whimpering ghosts in the castle already. I just heard the most salacious rumour about Whimpering Wendy. I suppose this means that I'll never drag you into an abandoned closet again. The best of days are behind us."
She gasped.
"Hey." Her eyes tightened, "You'd better continue to pull me into closets and assault my virtue."
"I must think of Hermione Jr. and his future struggles." Draco shrugged in mock defeat.
He strolled purposefully towards the door; Hermione pulled back at his arm.
"Draco Malfoy," she grumbled, anchoring herself in place. She tipped forward as he kept walking.
"If you want me to consider your delicate sensibilities, Hermione Granger," Draco swept her into another kiss, "perhaps you should stop sucking on that quill in class," he murmured under his breath.
"Noted." She smiled mischievously, "Suck more quills. I'll mark it in my daily planner."
He shook his head in amusement, "My devious witch, what am I going to do with you?"
"If you've got twenty minutes to kill, I have a few ideas." She winked flirtatiously.
His brows disappeared beneath his bangs, "Twenty minutes?!"
He quickly cast a silencing and locking charm on the room.
"Fuck History of Magic, I would like to hear more about these ideas of yours."
A smirk danced across her lips.
"Are you sure that you still want to do this?" Draco asked, his brow crinkling in concern.
Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes to the ceiling in annoyance, "Yes. Which is the same answer I gave you a dozen times between our first conversation and now. You agreed to teach me occlumency, but you keep putting it off."
"It's just," he tugged lightly on his hair, searching for the words, "it's invasive. I'm going to be probing into your mind and you don't have any defenses for it yet, it's like seeing you naked—"
"—which you've seen a hundred times—" she added smugly.
"—but a thousand times more intimate than that." He finished, "I just don't want to hurt you. I've only tried legilimency a handful of times; at least I was able to learn occlumency from my mother who made it as painless as possible. I wish she could come and teach you."
She moved closer to him, stroking his cheek gently with her thumb, "You won't hurt me, I trust you."
He closed his eyes briefly before opening them and standing up with purpose.
"Let's start with your first lesson, I suppose. If you absolutely insist."
"I absolutely do."
"As you know, occlumency is an obscure branch of magic, not typically taught or practiced in modern society. Partially because it's so difficult to master. The name originates from Latin, occludere meaning 'to shut up' and mens for 'mind'."
"Wow, even covering the Latin meaning?" Hermione asked, visibly impressed, "I had no idea you knew Latin."
He waved a hand in the air nonchalantly, "My old governess taught me before Hogwarts. I retained a bit."
Draco paced in front of the sofa; his hands tucked behind his back as he walked, "There is a wide spectrum of legilimens, some natural born and others taught. The best legilimens in the world can perform legilimency wandlessly and nonverbally; the worst must have eye contact, a wand, and a verbal incantation. As I've mentioned before, the Dark Lord is one of the most skilled legilimens of our time."
She chewed on her lip absentmindedly, staring as he walked back and forth in front of her.
"Occlumency is the best form of defense against a magical penetration of your mind, it has existed for as long as legilimency. When practiced correctly, it can prevent a legilimens from accessing thoughts or feelings. A truly skilled occlumens can redirect the legilimens' ministrations while leaving them unaware that they are being manipulated."
Hermione looked Draco up and down, her cheeks flushing pink, "God, I think I'm into this whole teaching thing."
Draco raised his brows in shock.
"Teach me more, Professor Malfoy." She bat her eyelashes, her gaze scanning his body.
He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, "Holy shite."
Keep going, she mouthed.
Pausing, he attempted to regain his train of thought, "Say I am the legilimens, trying to locate the whereabouts of Crookshanks. You don't want me to know where he is because I'm trying to shave off his fur."
Hermione gasped, "How dare you, his fur is majestic."
Draco fought back a smile, "Instead of preventing me from entering your mind, you can redirect me to memories of Crookshanks, perhaps pushing forward older memories of confusion or a time when you lost him and did not know where he went. That will, essentially, trick me into believing that you have no idea where Crookshanks is located, even if you do know."
She hummed thoughtfully, "What would happen if I just attempted to block out the mental attack completely? Rather than redirect."
"Well, you can try that, but I wouldn't recommend it unless you had years to study occlumency. If the legilimens discovers that you have the ability to block them out, they are more likely to double down on their attack—which can be excruciatingly painful. Either in an attempt to break your walls down, or out of malice that you dared to resist them. By redirecting, you can feign ignorance on occlumency. If executed correctly, they should have no idea that you are influencing their perception of your mind."
"Alright," she announced, holding her arms out wide, "I'm ready to fight off an attack. Enter me."
Draco laughed reflexively, "Hold on a minute, Granger. You're five steps ahead."
She exhaled impatiently.
"Let me start out by showing you how it feels to have someone enter your mind, okay? After you get used to the feeling, then we can start on your defense. I'll start out with something gentle."
He knelt in front of her, cupping her cheek softly with one hand as he raised his wand.
"Ready?"
Hermione nodded, watching him carefully.
He lifted his wand and softly whispered, "Legilimens."
She immediately tilted backwards, her shoulders hitting against the back of the sofa. The sensation of Draco entering her mind was indescribable. It was akin to a long stretch after waking up from a dead sleep, feeling the muscles flex and extend. He moved through her so gently that it was almost a caress. As fluidly as a hot knife through butter, or the sweeping sensation of a breeze on a hot summer's day.
The memories shuffled around in her mind, rising and breaking through the surface.
Hermione looked down at the street, chalk boxes were drawn in sequence as she hopped from one to the next, singing softly under her breath. Her eyes drifted up to the street sign down the road, 1st Avenue; it was the road she grew up on. The summer her gran came to visit.
It was astounding, she was reliving it so vividly as Draco trailed through her mind, shifting another memory forward.
She wrapped her arms around herself anxiously, peering around the dorm room. Hermione's small frame shifted as she unpacked her trunk, pretending to be busy. It was her first day at Hogwarts in an entirely new world.
The first day had been full of excitement and wonder but now that it was the first night, she was suddenly frightened, having never slept away from home before. She felt her heart pounding, her palms sweaty, hoping she would make friends with her dormmates.
"I'm Lavender Brown," a loud voice announced, Hermione turned to see a young Lavender Brown smiling widely at her, "What's your name?"
Tugging at the corner of the memory, it flipped, she was staring at a pile of dirt, leaning against the stone next to her. Hermione heaved, her abdomen muscles contracting as her vision blurred. It was Hagrid's hut; she recognized the moment from third year, she had just punched Draco.
Hermione's heart raced; she did not want Draco to see this memory, she did not want him to see any of the bad memories—
That thought triggered a sequence of flashes, pulling up every moment she had wanted to hide, the control over her mind dissipated as her panic grew.
Draco's hand rested on Pansy's waist, watching as he lifted her up into the air into a spin at the Yule Ball. The jealousy that fueled her in that moment. The feel of Viktor's hand in hers.
Her panic and worry when she realized the journal had not been opened by Draco that summer, the sleepless nights begging to the silence that he was safe. The nightmares. His screams echoed in her mind.
—Hermione clutched her head with her hands, willing it to stop—
She was curled into a ball in her four-poster bed, the night of her birthday; she sobbed as Lavender held her, she wondered when Draco had stopped loving her.
The memory skipped.
"Draco and Pansy. They deserve each other." Harry's voice drifted into her head. They were in the carriage on the way to Hogsmeade. Hermione felt horror as her broken words came out, "They sure do."
It panned over to the look in Draco's eyes when he pulled back from her touch outside of potions, the memory blurred by her tears and the devastated ache in her heart.
Cormac leaning in—
"No!" Hermione felt herself call out and she was suddenly back in the Room of Requirement, heaving for breath.
She felt winded from the mental exertion.
Draco's face was pale, hard, unreadable.
"We should stop for today—I…I need to go." He mumbled, pulling himself up to his feet and turning away from Hermione. His walk staggered, as if he just suffered a physical blow.
"Draco!" She jumped up from the sofa, blinking away the tears that gathered in her eyes as she followed his steps.
He continued towards the door, his head heavy, tilted downwards.
"Draco Malfoy, stop!"
He stopped in place, still facing away from her.
She stepped in front of him, pulling his chin up until his eyes met hers.
"Do it again."
"—No, Granger, I'm not—"
"Do it again."
Hermione raised his hand until his wand was pressed up against her temple.
The quiver of her lips was nearly imperceptible as she commanded, "Do it again."
Draco closed his eyes and sighed heavily, he opened them once more.
"Legilimens."
Like a dam breaking, a flood of memories swept through Hermione's mind.
She watched his smile to his mates, wondering what it would feel like for him to smile like that at her.
The first time he smiled, truly smiled at her, and she melted at the sight. She wanted to know how it tasted.
Breathless from that first kiss, fireworks and magic.
A series of golden sparks dancing through the air, the feeling of the grass and blanket under her and Draco's naked body above her. The curl of her toes. His lips against hers, reverently adoring her.
She snuck a peek at him from over her book in the Malfoy library, watching as his hair fell into his eyes as he read, the sun streaming into the room.
Just after he woke, that sleepy grin and lazy good morning kiss, the feeling of him pulling her against him.
That moment he finished his first knitted hat, completely lopsided, trying to hide the pride at the accomplishment.
"You are my everything. And I love you."
Draco pulled out of her mind; his grey eyes clouded with tears.
She pulled him into her arms looping them around his waist and squeezing tightly. His arms wrapped around her body, holding her firmly in place.
"I'm so sorry." His voice rumbled in his chest; the vibrations moved through her.
"I'm sorry you saw that; I hadn't meant for you to see it."
"I'm sorry you went through that because of me."
"I understand why, and I told you that I forgive you. Are you ready to keep going?"
"I don't want to hurt—"
"We have to keep going, Draco," Hermione insisted, "there is too much at stake here to stop because of a few sad memories."
She took his hands in hers and guided him back to the sofa, "Teach me about an attack. How do I hide away the memories and redirect the legilimens?"
"You have to first prepare your mind. In a real-life scenario, you don't usually have time for this but if practiced consistently then you can get into the frame of mind quickly enough. This part requires deep concentration, you will have to start meditating daily for maintenance."
Hermione nodded along slowly, following his words.
"Close your eyes and take a deep breath." He instructed, waiting for her to listen, "Picture in your mind something that you can shut and lock tight. It can be anything, I used a trunk, but you can use a book, a room, a wand box or—"
"What about my locket?" She interrupted, fiddling with the chain between her fingers.
His grey eyes rested on her pendent with the latest addition of her stone set from Christmas, he swallowed, "Your locket will do."
"Pick a memory, any memory."
"Okay, I have one." She whispered, trying to relax her body, her eyes still closed.
"Take that memory and wrap a ribbon around it, weaving around it until nothing is visible anymore."
Her breaths came in slow and shallow as the ribbon twirled in her mind, winding around and through until all she could see was silk.
"Imagine your locket opening. Place the memory inside the locket and snap it shut. Feel the air vibrate with the force of its closure. Know that it is locked in place, there is no way to open it and retrieve the memory."
In her mind, she shook and rattled the locket, it did not budge, it was firmly shut.
"What now?" She asked quietly, trying to maintain her concentration.
She felt the sofa shift with added weight as Draco sat down next to her. Hermione opened her eyes and stared into his.
"I'm going to try to get that memory now, okay? Are you ready?"
"I'm ready."
"I'll be gentle," he promised.
"Just like Voldemort would be," she muttered sarcastically.
His wand raised, "Legilimens."
It felt nearly familiar this time as he drifted in and out of the crevices of her mind. He was taking obvious care to be gentle; Hermione knew from her research that it could be excruciating in the right circumstance.
Draco reached her locket, she felt him pause before probing against it. She felt a surge of pride as the locket remained unmoved.
The pressure compounded in her mind, squeezing like a balloon on the cusp of popping.
"Good, you're doing great, love."
The word felt distant as she focused on her locket, reinforcing it mentally. The metal was thick, impenetrable, strong. She continued her breathing, in and out, staring into Draco's eyes.
He added additional pressure, the tightening caused a dull throb as she struggled to maintain control. She felt it slipping like sand through her fingers.
She flinched.
Suddenly, the locket snapped open, her memory fell out and spun around and around as the ribbon unwound. Draco pulled out of her mind.
"That was fantastic!" Draco encouraged as Hermione slumped down in defeat.
"You broke into my memory with hardly any effort at all," she lamented, "that was terrible."
"That was your first try," he corrected gently, "now we have to practice."
Draco could not stand still; his body was filled with nerves and excitement. He checked the clock; it was nearly eight and Hermione should be finished with her work in the library. It was the perfect time to surprise her. He sent her a quick message to her ring.
The journal
The night after their first occlumency lesson, he had finally mustered up the courage to open the journal—with a little help from Theo's firewhiskey. He sat on his bed and drank as he read her progression of letters, from excitement, to hope, to confusion, to panic, to despair.
Then he started planning; he wrote her pages of letters, replying to each message she had sent from the summer. It had taken hours and given him several hand cramps, and in the end, he felt sick to his stomach with guilt.
After the letters, Draco took his monthly allowance and wrote to Twilfitt and Tattings with specific instructions.
The package arrived this morning.
His journal was opened on the ground next to him, he watched as his messages disappeared one by one as Hermione read them.
Finally, the last message disappeared. He knew she had read the message.
I'm waiting for you in the Room of Requirement.
A sliver of light appeared as Hermione opened the door to meet Draco. His messages in the journal had nearly brought her to tears, something that was easy to do lately.
This year had been stained with tears for them.
Hermione had returned to her dorm from the library to read his messages. Her journal had remained in her nightstand, untouched for months. Her heart fluttered as she watched the pages fill with his writing, something she had longed to see for so many nights.
His last message had been cryptic, but she was excited to see what he was up to in the Room of Requirement. From his messages, he had seemed in a sentimental mood. Romantic Draco had usurped sleepy Draco as her favourite Draco.
The door to the Room of Requirement appeared in the stone wall before her. She pushed her body weight against the door before stopping dead in her tracks, staring around the room in awe.
The space was completely transformed. It was expanded into a large ballroom, decorated like winter. Icicles dangled from the ceiling, the ballroom was lined with fir trees adorned with white ornaments, and garlands draped around the room.
She had seen this moment before.
Draco cleared his throat; Hermione's wide eyes met his hopeful ones. He was wearing black and white dress robes with a white rose on his lapel. In his arms, he held a full-length emerald green evening gown.
He fidgeted nervously in place.
Stopping just in front of her, he searched for the words, "I saw your memory from the Yule Ball, and I haven't been able to get this out of my head. That night for you…and for me, it changed everything."
"Our first kiss," she reminisced softly.
Draco nodded, "Even before the kiss, this is what I had imagined back in fourth year. I imagined the night with you. I—I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to dance with you again after our lesson with McGonagall."
"I was just thinking that with everything going on…with the next few months…I wanted to give you this memory," he looked around the room, "at least the only way that I can."
His voice caught in his throat, "I meant it when I said that you deserve better than me. It's just my luck that I have the most stubborn witch in existence. I want to be the type of man that deserves your love." He stepped closer, "I'm trying. I hope that's enough for you."
She closed her eyes, remembering the first moment he said those words to her in their fourth year.
Right here, in their place.
"It's enough for me," Hermione's heart swelled in her chest, she held a hand up to her heart, feeling it beat under her fingertips.
She inspected the dress with a coy smile, "I'm assuming you aren't having a change of costume?"
He looked at the gown and back up at Hermione, "I know it's not what you wore at the ball, but I always thought that you look lovely in green."
She raised her brows conspiratorially, "Is someone trying to get me into Slytherin green?"
Draco shrugged sheepishly, "I can change the colour, if you don't like it."
"Draco Malfoy, are you trying to claim me?"
He let out a laugh, "Just the opposite, I thought it was rather obvious by now that I'm completely yours."
"Well, it's no Gryffindor red, but I think I can make an exception for the occasion," she teased, taking the dress from his hands.
He turned around as she slipped out of her uniform and into the gown. It was the most expensive piece of clothing that Hermione had ever held in her hands. The gown was stunning; the laced top had a scalloped neckline that fell off the shoulder with an open back, the flowy material of the skirt draped off her curves like it was designed for her.
"Where did you find this dress?" Hermione marveled as she walked back to Draco, brushing the fabric with her fingertips.
"I found a place; they had some things." He mumbled nonchalantly, his cheeks had a dust of colouring, "Do you like it?"
"You can turn around," she laughed, "it's nothing you haven't seen before anyway."
Hermione stepped into his view; his lips parted slightly as he sucked in a breath.
"You look…" the words died on his lips.
Her lips curved into a smile, "I look…?"
"Perfect." He finished seriously, "Absolutely perfect."
"Certainly not perfect. I don't even have my hair potions like I did for the ball," she chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, "I was just at the library, my hair is probably a complete mess. I hadn't realized I would need to dress up tonight."
"You don't need hair potions," he tucked his hand behind her neck, "I love you just like that, wild curls and all. You're perfect."
She eyed him skeptically.
"My Hermione," he brushed a thumb across her lips.
"My Draco," she replied, sneaking a kiss.
"May I have this dance?" He asked delicately, bowing as he extended a hand to her.
She placed her hand in his as his other hand rested on the small of her back, exposed from the backless dress. His warm touch sent tingles across her skin as he rested it softly but firmly against her.
Hermione's front pressed up to his as the music faded from her mind. She felt him with every rise and fall of his chest. All that she could focus on was the feeling of Draco in her arms, the sway of their steps as they moved as one.
She lost herself in the sway of the melody, in the feeling of Draco in her arms.
Draco swept her low into a dip, pausing at the lowest point. Hermione's face flickered by the firelight; she saw a reflection of the flames in his grey eyes.
He pulled her back up, pressing his temple against hers as they moved across the common room floor. She heard a shaky breath from above her, Hermione pulled back in concern.
"Draco?"
His eyes glimmered with tears.
"Love?" Hermione stopped mid-step, taking his face between her hands, "Are you okay? I'm not that terrible of a dancer, am I?" She joked weakly.
He placed his hands over hers, closing his eyes, "I was just thinking of another life where we could have been us without all this." He opened his eyes, looking into hers, "I just hope that in another life you would still choose me."
His words shattered her heart.
She tucked herself against his chest, feeling the gentle pounding of his heartbeat against her cheek.
She promised softly, "In any life, I would want you. In any version of us, I would love you. In any reality, I would choose you."
