„You're out late, Miss Granger."
„It's half past ten."
„Students are not to leave their house common room after nine."
„I am prefect, we're allowed until midnight", she reminded her teacher. Of course, Snape was fully aware of her not being out of bounds, or else he had taken points from her already.
"I forgot", he lied.
She chose not to comment on that. Correcting him might put in an even worse mood than usual, and she had not come to fight. Besides, walking into him when other students were supposed to be in bed was part of her scheme.
The candles in this remote part of the castle lit the corridor scarcely. Slytherins used it as a shortcut to their common room, since the stairs to their left led straight to the dungeons, but seldom any other student ended up here. These days, especially when the least popular students exploited every excuse to sneak around in the castle, the corridor was as abandoned as if they met in his office.
"I hardly recall you showing any interest in topics not included in a book", he broke the silence after a few minutes. "Quite in contrast to your Chosen friend, I heard." His thick robes kept him warm between the stone walls, so he had all the time to make insinuations rather than express himself.
"Ron has put a great effort in his Quidditch skills lately, yes", she answered coolly.
"By 'chosen', I meant Potter."
"Sorry, Professor", she replied, satisfied he had overlooked the trap, "I must have misunderstood since I chose them both. As my friends. Sir." Last syllable only for reasons of politeness.
He showed no sign of anger or astonishment. "So what has taken you here, Miss Granger", he waved his arm in a curve, as if to lead her attention over a stage, "Sure you must know the way to the library in by now. There are no separate entries to the Restricted Section, if I may remind you. Sneaking into it by any other means will have you end up in – punishment."
Feeling rather uncomfortable now, she mustered her courage and leapt forward.
"I'm not interested in a book from the Restricted Section, Professor", she said, "But I am interested in sophisticated subjects of Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Such as?"
"Occlumency, Sir."
The silence was loud and heavy. "Mr Potter tells you about our lessons, I presume." It was not a question.
"He does, Sir." Somehow, it felt at odds with her aims to rub their friendship under his nose again.
"So there shouldn't be much to talk about", Snape sneered, crossing his arms in that haughty, bat like manner, "Since Mr Potters achievements-", piercingly cold emphasis here, "remain rather limited up to this point. And hardly worth talking about."
"I'll let you be the judge of that." No irony in it, that was important.
"Yes, you will, Miss Granger"; he answered, apparently confident, but she could see he was flattered, perhaps against his will. "So what's your interest in the subject?", he continued, voice deliberately neutral.
"I'd like to learn this technique, Sir."
"Miss Granger, as much as you are prone to, let's say, the textbook approach to things", he responded harshly, "Occlumency cannot be rehearsed like the spell you clean your shoes with. It requires a special discipline, especially concerning one emotions, one few people with brains like you" - he almost gave her a compliment, but caught himself in time, "With over-developed rationality hardly ever muster. It's an art, not a technique you can practice like wand flicks. After years and years of training, few wizards withstand the attack of a skilled Legilimens."
She overpowered the urge to point out how unfair his expectations from Harry must be, then, and pursued her goal. "You're telling me, it demands a special kind of … tact, so to say."
"Precisely."
If she wanted this to work, she would have to do this, she told herself. Two slow steps to her Potions master. Just enough not to make him withdraw. "Mastering one's perceptions." Another step. He must be scenting her perfume. "Being honest with oneself about what one wants to hide." A pause, she would push him too far. He looked her straight in the eye, but not in his penetrating manner, rather as if to avoid looking anywhere else. Half a step, so she stood only an arm's length in front of him. "A special kind of – touch", she hesitated a split second too long for a mistake, "I mean, getting truly a grip on oneself."
"Indeed, Miss Granger."
Neither of them backed away, but the piercing element returned to his eyes. She blinked and looked away. The knots on his robes were moving barely visibly. Had he been holding his breath?
She felt his gaze slither over her shoulders to her neck, and the edge of her low-neck robes. "So how would this subject be of any interest to you?"
Without looking back up again, she could tell he was searching eye contact, even if only to determine her true intentions. After all, sheer knowledge of its importance for Legilimency did not provide her with the ability to withstand the attack. "I'd like to learn to close my mind." Perhaps part of the truth would work, as long as he did not catch her lying.
"You are aware", he replied, voice suddenly lower, "That learning to shutting me from your mind would include opening to me at first."
"I am aware of that."
"Don't you take this lightly, Miss Granger", he warned her. "Look at me."
She moved, but let her gaze rest on his nose.
"Look at me", he insisted, "I'm not going to hurt you."
His dark, opaque eyes delved in hers. "Mind that opening to me means giving up the last bits of your privacy. Whatever narcissistic dreams, far-fetched ideas you may harbor", he teased her, "Every lie you ever told me, or your parents, or anyone else might be discovered in the process. You'll get to know the real you, not whatever self-image you might have, and be forced to dismiss it if you wish to accomplish anything as an Occlumens."
Hermione, she heard her mother's voice from nowhere, Hermione, mind your step into this magical world. Snapes eyes had become blurred and distant. This magic can't be done half-heartedly, and your commitment might pose as your Achille's heel. I am just worried for you, dear.
"Touching", he commented.
The urge to withdraw almost caught hold of her.
"That should give you an idea of what you're asking for."
Heart hammering against her chest, she could barely speak in outrage. Heat rose to her face, and she knew she was blushing.
"Thank you for the demonstration", she snapped. "I'll explore this probe of your competence and make an adequate decision."
"I am certain you will."
She had not broken eye contact. Despite her shame, her anger, her surprise, she was still facing him.
"If you come to the conclusion that you wish to learn Occlumency", he whispered, "You'll show up in my office, Monday, eight thirty."
"Yes, Sir."
"And I must insist that you keep this to yourself. Everyone will think you're working late in the library."
"Ok."
"Now head back to your common room, before you get involved in any more extracurricular activities. No one with your workload could handle it."
Hermione did not argue with him, nor linger a second longer. She'd have to think this through, and sadly, on her own. In the outer rim of her mind she noticed that Snape, indeed, despite crossing a line, had indeed not hurt her.
