Hermione found herself brooding on Snape's last remark until morning, itching to learn what might be so important about Bellatrix Lestrange. Had he been referring to her a Death Eater, most faithful to Voldemort, or her as a student, engaging in her first relationships? Had young Severus Snape tried to win Bellatrix over, the daughter of a wealthy, well-established and strictly pure-blooded magic family, and broken up with his friends – if their relationship deserved that term – over the Lestrange's courting? Had he introduced her to the birth of more intense conflicts, thus estranging from them further after Hogwarts, causing him to question their methods – and in the long run, his loyalty to their cause?
Was Bellatrix the key to his betrayal of Voldemort? Or was he tricking Hermione into believing him, obeying him some point in time perhaps, by clever framing of past events, which were, by themselves, of no relevance at all?
The silk ceiling of her poster bed defied her an answer. This hardly was not the time to busy her mind with Snape's adolescent memories, she disciplined herself, not with exams starting in four weeks. And as the descending moon over the castle, casting a shy and weak light into their bedroom, was already in waxing crescent, the Veritaserum down in Snape's office must have almost completely matured: By next Thursday night, they could bottle it up.
She wondered if Umbridge kept track of the moon cycle and planned to witness its final stages, if only to swear them to silence on her insidious methods. The single, serious advantage remaining after this abuse of her skills and abilities was over, was their knowledge on how to counter the headmistresses approach to extracting information: Neville had dug into the matter after Dean's intoxication and confirmed that adding a few drops of Argentinian Sour Grass provided enough metabolic activity to disable the effect of even amplified Veritaserum completely ("Hypothetically speaking, of course", Hermione had assured him in her usual remote corner of the library). Harry's connection into the kitchen via Dobby enabled them to provide the entire student's body with pumpkin juice at their breakfast that shielded them from ending up declaring their endless love to secret heartthrobs, or whatever intimate matters they wished to conceal.
That's what she shared with Snape, she recognized in the soft darkness and cushions. Intimacy. What had started as an Occlumency lesson had turned out an uncontrollable, but rich and worthwhile encounter. They weren't familiar, they weren't friends, but accessing his mind touched her on a much deeper level than any physical engagement with Krum, as arousing as it might have been. A vague memory rose from the back of her head: Krum exploring her body with skilled, firm hands. But then, he memory must have changed along its way: It was a young black-haired Slytherin now, with broad shoulders, strong arms and trained legs of his older self, who hugged and kissed her ... She longed to feel whether this figure might lie as heavy on her as a sturdy Quidditch player, fused with hunger for her overreacting body...
The tossing in her sheets grew more intense. She knew how to handle this kind of tension.
When the moon had descended behind the farther hills, Hermione slid, still glowing, in a deep and dreamless sleep.
Neither Ron nor Harry read much significance into her silence the next morning, since Ravenclaw would battle Gryffindor as last and deciding match of the season, and each of them were struggling with their role in it. Harry put great effort in cheering Ron up and preparing for the match with at least anything for breakfast, but Ginny, with an expression as if facing a painful, complicated and senseless procedure, probably had a much more adequate view on the situation. Then events at Hogwarts forced Bellatrix and her love triangle out of Hermione's mind.
Hagrid's impeccably stupid idea of raising his half-brother in the forest already made her head hurt most of Sunday morning. Gryffindors extended celebrating mood with occasional outbursts of 'Weasley is our King' only added to her frustration with another one of Umbridge's cruel and mindless thesis.
"Do you think she's still having some Squad member watching the Room of Requirement?", she asked Harry, who fought his way through potions homework next to her, "I'd like to read about Defense Against the Dark Arts, for a change -"
"Dunno", Harry muffled. "Bunch of them got detention with McGonagall for rest of the term, so perhaps you'd slip through today, if any time."
"Rest of the term?", Hermione repeated, honestly surprised, "What for?"
Harry, having served and suffered as subject of Hogwart's gossip for years, apparently did not let that prevent him from keeping up with chatter and themes of student's muttered talks. Four Squad members, all of them Slytherins with nothing to celebrate this season, had grabbed the first opportunity to work out their frustration and envy on any Gryffindor who had the bad luck on running into them, he let her in. As Colin Creevey and his little brother happened to sing whole-heatedly, completely askew and a little too loud not to be heard, Zabini, it was rumored, lashed out at them and, predictably, their muggle father. Others said, Dursane, a fat fourth year, had teased them until Colin tried to stun him, and Zabini provided assistance when he watched his fellow Squad member be overtaken by the two Gryffindors, and the rest of Slytherins then joined in to give them a lesson. One way or the other, the Creevey brothers lost both their wands in the uprising duel, and were about to suffer some serious bashing, only to be rescued by none other than Zacharias Smith. He and the Chasers from freshly beaten Ravenclaw quidditch team had illegally eluded to Hogsmeade, but came back not too drunk to disarm the Squad and run for it.
"... so McGonagall threatened to take their wands next time they'd be caught trouncing anyone for anything", Harry told her. "Umbridge must have been furious – Parvati overheard them arguing in her office. About the headmistresses privilege to decide upon disciplinary action, Colin and his brother having provoked the attack -"
Hermione snorted.
" - But McGonagall simply said, if Umbridge did not bother to draw a line, she would, within the range of her means."
"Guess our next educational decree is on stripping the teachers from their right to enforce school rules", she mused. "And have them obey Squad members instead."
"Don't you give her the idea", Harry muttered, frowning. "I was wondering why McGonagall wouldn't leave it to Snape", he uttered after a while, when another chorus of 'Weasley is our King' interrupted their faint scribbling on parchment, "After all, he's Head of House."
"Perhaps he's busy", Hermione replied, consciously keeping her eyes on the essay.
"Doing what?"
"Performing as Umbridge's pawn", she snapped, more aggressively than she had intended.
"As long as she does not make him her king", Harry whispered.
"Can't do anything about it, now, can we", she stated flatly, still unwilling to look up.
"Hermione …"
"Hm?"
"I was wondering if -"
"I am certain he'd give you another shot at Occlumency, if you just omitted your pride", Hermione interrupted. Her move to avoid a discussion about her time with Snape seemed rather tenuous to her, but Harry bought it.
"He won't", he declined, "And he wouldn't change his mind even if Dumbledore asked him to."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Like I said, it's a waste of time to him, I can close my mind pretty well on my own now -"
"Tell me then", Hermione asked, seizing the opportunity, "How did you close your mind against intrusion?"
"Er – well – I guess – you simply try to -"
His stuttering proved Hermione's assumption. "You can't close your mind, can you?", she called his bluff, abysmally disappointed, but kept her voice calm and patient. "Neither against Snape … nor You-Know-Who."
"All I dream about is that stupid corridor", Harry revealed, "In the Department of Mysteries. Where they held my hearing in summer."
"Harry, Dumbledore wanted you to learn Occlumency, so that you can shield -"
"Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to tell me, once in a while", Harry snapped back at her, and she knew she had hit the wrong button with him, "Why exactly I'm supposed to let Snape invade my -"
"Here you are", Ron's voice trailed over from the entrance of the common room. "What are you arguing about?", he inquired, noticing their sudden silence.
"We're not arguing", Hermione said quickly.
"Honestly, I don't care, Hermione", Harry went on, much less angry, "They ran rings round me on some trumped up charges and would have expelled me if they could. So why, by all means, would I want to go to the Department of Mysteries?"