AN: Happy Sunday, all! Please enjoy a chapter of my story, and feel free to follow/favorite/review if you are enjoying!
Hermione waited at the bottom of the stairs at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, waiting - hoping - that her two best friends would come to say goodbye. Come to say they forgive her. To come at all. Even if it meant they would yell at her.
As she waited, she pressed her thumb and index finger into her temples. Malfoy's thoughts had been absolutely relentless today. Apparently, he'd read the Daily Prophet front to back. Key positions in the Ministry had been getting filled with many familiar names.
'Gregory Goyle, Sr named Director of Magical Immigration - Good - that will keep the Mudbloods and refugees from leaking in.'
'Corban Yaxley, Head of Unauthorized Magical Use. Bit of a shock with that one.'
'Antonin Dolohov, Head of Muggle-Born Registration and Supervision. Ha. Hear that one, Granger?'
She had, and it sent a cold shiver throughout her body - radiating intensely through the scar on her sternum. Dolohov had been the Death Eater who nearly killed her in the Ministry of Magic during their 5th year. She never fully recovered - physically or mentally. With Malfoy being in her mind, he knew all of this as well - and relished using it against her whenever he could.
Hermione was not without ammo herself. Malfoy had a lot of fears and insecurities, and they came rushing through his mind daily. As quick as they came in, he pushed them out in an effort to avoid Hermione noticing - but she had. She, too, delighted in the fact that she was learning intimate information about the boy she'd loathed since her first year at Hogwarts.
Malfoy, as it were, feared for his parents. Not so much for their safety, as Hermione did, but that they would no longer love him now that he had failed. That his mother would never forgive him for letting his father rot in Azkaban. That they'd disown him for hiding like the coward he certainly was.
Malfoy also had insecurities about his knowledge. His magic ability. How he would never be the wizard his father was. Where he'd succeeded, his father exceeded. Where he failed, his father passed with ease. It was the source of a lot of emotional anguish for him. If Draco Malfoy weren't such an incredibly heinous human being, Hermione would feel sincerely sorry for him.
He was, however, just that. Incredibly heinous and intensely vile. Therefore, Hermione simply stored away all of his embarrassing and sensitive thoughts to use for a later date. When she really needed to take him down. He, of course, knew that, but she didn't care. She knew it would hurt him nonetheless.
As Hermione stood with her shoes on and her bag slung over her shoulder, Professor McGonagall approached her with compassion in her eyes. "They haven't come down to say goodbye?"
Hermione's lips curled in as she shot the elderly witch a pursed smile. "No. I didn't figure they would. I get why they are upset," she said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. Her eyes, however, gave her sadness away.
"They will come around," her Head of House assured her as she adjusted her lush green robes. "Unfortunately, if we are to make this move, we will need to leave now. I have gathered some books and scribes for you. And, of course, the cottage has been stocked with everything you will need for your training."
Hermione's eyes were still locked at the top of the stairs - still holding out hope.
'They're not coming, Granger - grow a spine and move on.'
She ignored him, but she was getting increasingly mad despite her strongest efforts not to. "Right," she replied, finally prying her eyes away. They weren't coming. "Professor?"
"Yes?"
"By any chance, would you be able to bring me a book about binding spells? As well as books on how to break them?" She asked.
"Well, I am sure that won't be difficult," the witch answered as she took in Hermione's face and posture. She noted her nervous energy. "Why would you be requiring that?"
Hermione made an effort to loosen herself up a bit to avoid suspicion. "Well, I do think it will benefit my studies in general. I'd like to know how to remove any bindings made to Order members by the enemy, if such a situation were to occur."
McGonagall remained silent, as if she were trying to force Hermione into saying more. But Hermione remained silent herself, awaiting a response. When McGonagall seemed satisfied that this was Hermione's true intention, she loosened. "Alright. I will see what I can find and have it sent to you during the week."
'About damn time you started doing something about this shite situation,' Malfoy interjected.
'Well apparently I have to, since you refuse to do anything with your seemingly unlimited free time,' she gave a rare retort, unable to stop her brain from doing so. Malfoy's mind returned to his regular thoughts as he resumed whatever it was he was doing. She actively droned him out once again.
"Are you ready to leave then, Miss Granger?"
Hermione looked to her professor, then looked back up the stairs to where they boys had gone earlier that evening. "Actually, can you give me a couple minutes?"
Professor McGonagall's lip twitched into a small, amused grin. "You have ten minutes," she said, "Give those two hell."
Before Hermione knew it, she had barged into the room the two boys had been sharing, startling them from their respective spots on their beds. Harry had been reading a book, while Ron held the Deluminator Dumbledore had left him in his hand, playing with the lamp near his bed.
"So you're really going to sulk up here and not bother to say goodbye?" Hermione knew that Malfoy was actively listening into her mind as she processed the situation, but was not interrupting.
'Can't wait to see how this plays out,' he had thought, but not actively directed towards her.
Harry and Ron exchanged looks with one another; clearly they had not been expecting this.
"You know, for two young men ready to go to war ," she remarked, "you still act like such children. You do know that we may never see each other again? Is that how you want this to go?"
By the looks on their faces, Hermione knew they hadn't thought of it at all.
'Of course they haven't, the stupid lot.'
She felt her stomach turn as she actually found herself agreeing with Malfoy - and she knew he took sick pleasure in that. "Well?" She demanded, trying to force them into answering.
Ron was the first to speak. As he sat up, he shook his head. "You know, at least we know what we want to do. At least we stuck with what we said we were going to do. You chickened out, and now we have to be okay with that." His words struck her like a stinging hex to the chest.
"I know. You have no clue how sorry I am. You don't know how much -" how much I want to be joining you both , "how much I have thought about this. I can't explain more than I already have."
"Yea, well maybe that's just not enough for us, Hermione," Ron replied stiffly as he continued fidgeting with the Deluminator - the room going dark every few clicks.
Harry sighed and stood from his spot on his bed. "Actually, Ron, I think she's right."
Ron stopped playing with the tool and stared at Harry. "What now?"
Harry looked to Hermione, then back to Ron. "Hermione's right. Honestly, if anything were to happen to any one of us, and we never saw each other again, we'd never forgive ourselves. I hadn't thought about it like that."
Hermione felt tears of relief prickle in her eyes. "I promise you both that I did not make this decision lightly. I need to do what is best for the cause, and this is it. I wish I could tell you more, but that's all I can say right now."
Ron's expression softened as he too stood up. "I won't pretend to understand why you're doing this, Hermione. Because I really can't, and I am still really angry," he told her as he took a step forward and looked to Harry. "But I love you more than I can be angry with you."
Hermione looked at both of her best friends and smiled. "I love you both so much. I will write to you every day throughout the summer, I promise. It will be like I never left."
The trio embraced. Hermione could hear the disgust and disdain in Malfoy's cold, loveless thoughts, but none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was this moment with her friends. With her family. If this might be their last shared moment with each other, she didn't want it to be tainted. Not even with Draco Malfoy in her head.
After a few more moments of embracing, Hermione said her tearful goodbyes, and left the Order headquarters feeling fulfilled. Malfoy was wrong. She was loved fully and equally by her friends. They loved her so much it pushed them to anger. She made sure he knew this as she thought about it endlessly for the rest of the night.
She didn't even bother to catch his thoughts of how he'd never known what something like that was like. She didn't catch how he fooled himself into thinking it was pointless. And, as she feel asleep, she didn't hear how he admitted to himself that it might not be as pointless as he tried to make himself believe.
For the first few weeks at the cottage, Hermione had been asked to create a backstock of common and important healing potions, such as Pepper Up, Skele-Gro, and Blood Replenishing Potion - all potions she had mastered during her time at Hogwarts.
She had been provided with the ingredients by Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout, who had been secretly gathering stock of whatever they would without Snape and the Carrows noticing. The two witches were gathering as much as they could now, as they knew that restrictions and oversight would only get more and more intense at Hogwarts as more of Voldemort's followers filled positions at the Ministry.
In addition to building the backstock, Hermione was also spending several hours a day learning how to brew new potions - potions she'd never tried on her own before - and potions she'd never even heard of. One of the most sought after potions was Essence of Dittany - the Order predicted an uptick in Splinches as in-the-moment emergency apparitions would become increasingly common as the war rolled onward. She was also actively learning how to brew Wolfsbane, Calming Draught, and Burn-Healing Paste - all potions she knew would come to be in high demand.
Along with this, Hermione had learned a lot about her bond with Malfoy over the past few weeks.
When Malfoy fell asleep, she could no longer hear his thoughts. She assumed this meant that when she slept, he could no longer hear hers either. When she truly placed her focus onto something, she could drone out his meaningless thoughts nearly as easily as she could hers. That there may be a way for the two of them to close off the connection with the right effort.
That's right. Hermione had spent a lot of time reading and theorizing about how to either eliminate or, at least, mitigate the bond. She was actually surprised she hadn't thought of it before.
Occlumency
If Hermione was able to at least be functional at the art, then she'd be able to block Malfoy from her mind, and she could join Harry and Ron by the end of the summer. There were only two issues here:
She would need someone to work with this art on. If Malfoy didn't also utilize it, then she would still be pounded by his thoughts daily.
After a lot of processing and thinking about the best way to go about this, she made a decision that neither her nor Malfoy liked. They would have to learn together.
'I'd rather liquify my eyes than have to deal with you more than I already do,' Malfoy had thought as he realized Hermione had made her decision final. 'And you quite literally already live in my fucking head.'
'Yes, and you live in mine and there is obviously no other way. I know you haven't been researching, but I have and this is the only way. I am sick of you in my head day in and day out. It's driving me crazy.'
'Didn't think that was possible, given the fact that you're already bat shit,' he sniped. She could feel the anger, the aggression, the disgust and, surprisingly, the anxiety in his mind.
'We have to figure this out. I have done the reading, Malfoy. If we work together, and we are dedicated, it shouldn't take us more than a month, maybe two, to be proficient enough to keep this curse under control. Do you want that or not?'
He had wanted that, and they both knew it. The two agreed to meet at Hogwarts three nights a week, starting next week. The days and times would vary, as to avoid any suspicion.
'And how, exactly, do you think you'll make it past the Carrows, the Dementors, the guards, and Snape unseen?' He was not mocking - he was actually genuinely proposing a concern.
Luckily for both of them, Hermione had pretty outstanding foresight. She imagined a scenario wherein she and Malfoy would have to be together in person to figure this out - and she was right. One night, while she was meant to be ill at Grimmauld Place, she snuck into Harry and Ron's room and snagged the Marauder's Map. She knew that neither of them would be using it anytime soon, as going back to Hogwarts was one of the last things on their minds.
Malfoy had caught all of this, and Hermione could tell he was slightly impressed. Before he could express that sentiment too much, his mind flipped a switch. His thoughts filled her brain like a cyclone of hate, fear, and anxiety.
'Thieving Mudblood. Know-It-All bag of filth. Brainless, bucktooth, muggle rubbish.'
It was as though for every good thing he thought about her, it had to be met with several horrific things. At first, she had been angered, outraged, and hurt. By now, though, she thought of how sick it was that his mind worked that way. Of course, he never took it well when he caught her having these thoughts.
'If anyone here is the sick one, it's you. Rotten squib thief.'
He always came back to that bit. Squib thief. Apparently, these Pureblood families had indoctrinated their children into believing that for every Muggle-Born was a Squib robbed of their right to magic. He really, truly believed that.
Hermione couldn't take much more of this. 'Time for bed. I need some peace and quiet. I'll figure out a time for us to meet this week.'
With that, Hermione did her best to ignore Malfoy's continued, controlled and uncontrolled thoughts. As she drifted to bed, her mind lingered on something she felt consistently in his mind. Something that made her wonder if it had always been there, or if it was new.
With every thought, every attack, every resting moment, there was always one residual feeling - an emotion that always lingered.
Anxiety.
AN: Thank you! I just wanted to note that this is A/U and I am aware that Draco had learned Occlumency in 6th year - just not in this story :) Please let me know what you all think!