Chapter 0
"How do you know about that?" Severus asks.
"Harry has your sixth year Potions book," Granger says. "That's how he's been out-brewing me. I knew he was cheating, the git, but didn't know he was using your book to do it! I should have guessed. I really should have."
"And how did Potter of all people get his grubby hands on my book?"
"Slughorn gave it to him at the beginning of the year. He and Ron thought they couldn't take Potions because you required an O on the OWL, but then Slughorn said they could take it with just an E. Because neither of them had a book, Slughorn gave them two old copies, and the one Harry got said 'Property of the Half Blood Prince' and was full of all these notes that let him brew the best potion in every class, without even trying."
"Which must have galled you no end, with your competitive nature?"
"Of course it did. God, wouldn't it have bothered you when you were in school if some lazy slacker was showing you up in a class when you knew you were better than he was?"
"It would have," he acknowledges. "And now I want that book back."
"If you get it, can I borrow it to prepare for my NEWT?"
"If I get it? That book is my property, Granger."
"Harry's going to go spare when he realizes your younger self has been his Potions tutor," she laughs. "And isn't Slughorn going to be surprised when his star pupil starts turning in the substandard slop he normally does."
"Granger, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were gloating about Potter's impending fall from grace."
"You better believe I am. All I've heard all year from Slughorn is how brilliant Harry is. I only wish I could be there when Slughorn finds out what kind of brewer he really is." She looks thoughtful for a moment. "Muffliato is your spell."
"It is."
"That's a dead useful one."
"Many of the spells in that book are far less innocuous than that one. Those cuts you healed on me when I came back from the Dark Lord were from another spell in that book."
"What's it called?"
"Sectumsempra."
"Will you show me?"
He hesitates a moment, then nods. "Since you already know the counter-curse, I suppose I may as well." He performs the wand movements, and a gash appears on one of the practice dummies so deep that a handful of stuffing falls onto the floor. "Now you try it."
She copies the movements perfectly, and another dummy loses its stuffing.
"Do you remember the counter-curse?"
She nods, stuffs the batting back inside the two dummies, then repairs first one then the other with the Vulnera Sanentur chant.
"Does the Dark Lord know there's a counter-curse?" she asks.
"No."
"So, you're a better Occlumens than he is a Legilimens?"
Severus hesitates. Someday, the Dark Lord may command him to bring Granger before him. When that day comes, the Dark Lord needs to see a witch who trusts Severus because she believes—wrongly—that she can. He must not ever let Granger learn so much about him that she knows with certainty the truth of where his loyalty lies.
"Who taught you Occlumency?" he asks instead of answering.
"I taught myself."
"Why?"
"At first, so I could teach Harry."
He gives her a withering look. "Because you thought you could succeed where I had failed so spectacularly?"
She averts her eyes. "I didn't say that." She didn't have to. He knows he made a hash of teaching Potter. "Knowing Harry as I do," she continues, "I suspect that his dislike of you contributed at least as much as yours of him."
He waits for her to ask why he dislikes Potter, but she doesn't. "You said at first you learned in order to teach Potter. What is your motivation for continuing the study?"
She shrugs. "In a world where other people know Legilimency, it seemed like the prudent thing to do."
He nods. That's why he wanted to learn as well. "Were you more successful with Potter than I was?"
"Marginally. He doesn't have the patience to truly master it."
"But you do?"
"More than Harry anyway."
He snorts. Understatement of the year. "And have you mastered it?"
"Not completely, I assume, but since I've never had a skilled Legilimens test me, I really have no idea."
He studies her. "Would you like to?"
"Yes. But not now. I'm too tired."
"If I'm ever forced to bring you before the Dark Lord, he won't care how tired you are."
"I know. But the first time you do it, I'd like to be ready. Then we can try again when I'm tired or distracted, and you can compare how I do under different circumstances."
"You've already been thinking about this. When were you planning on asking me?"
She averts her gaze. "I kept losing my nerve."
"Where's that vaunted Gryffindor courage?"
"Weren't you uneasy at the idea of having someone rifling about in your head the first time you did it?"
"Of course."
"Well then."
"I'll be gentle the first time," he says, then cringes at his unfortunate choice of words. Her blush and averted eyes tell him that she's remembering the same incident he is, that other first time, when he was not at all gentle.
To her credit, she doesn't scoff or roll her eyes, just says, "Thank you. I would appreciate that."
