Chapter 4.1
It was hot, too hot even for reading. Her unruly hair feels like sizzling bacon at the back of her neck. So she settled herself on one of the stools by the counter and drank her mum's homemade tangy lemon juice. Summer does not agree with her.
'Why can't I have impeccable hair like yours?'
'Actually, I spelled them to perfection. They now fall in perfect waves.'
'And you won't share that knowledge with me?'
'No.'
'Now that's just..'
"Hermione, you're making that face again." She must've been contorting her face because her mother is giving her odd looks. Hermione can't be blamed, it's hard not to slip when he's being his annoying self. It doesn't help too that her mum's still convinced she can hear voices- that even the wizarding world considers anomalous. Harry could attest to that.
"Sorry mum, lemon's too sour."
"Really? But I added more sugar than usual. I'll go make another one, alright?"
She should be telling her mum how repulsively American the drink was, she didn't even like lemon on her tea. Instead, she takes this time to observe her mum. The slight bow in her lips were different from her mother's, it certainly was different from her father's full ones. Their nose more patrician than her pert delicate one, and her father's jaw was subdued because of his smaller chin. And if those were not clues enough, her parent's eyes were both blue. They said she had her Grand Paps eyes, but she couldn't really compare to someone not among the living. And the sepia colored photographs does not help. She wonders why she never realized it right away. The only thing she has in common with her parents was that her hair was brown like theirs.
'No, yours is actually a darker shade. More chocolate brown than their auburn ones.'
'I wonder what I got from her?'
'Her?'
'Yes you know, babies do come from mothers and fathers. Unless… you magicked me all alone.'
'Do not be silly child, there are some things even magic cannot do.'
'You don't sound so sure old man. You could've pointed a wand at her abdomen and voila! She's with child!
'Sure. I did point MY wand at her… abdomen"
"Oh that's just repulsive! I did NOT need to know that!"
'Insolent child! You certainly did not get that cheek from me! Besides, who was asking in the first place?'
'Pish-posh old man. And really, judging by the fact you influence me on an unhealthy daily basis, I differ.'
'Hmm.'
'Will you ever answer directly?'
'Fine… you're small, like her.'
'I am not small! I'm almost 14!'
'Well almost 14, you're too small for your age.'
'Fine, what else?'
'Her teeth was too big for her too, like a chipmunks.'
'Gee, how alluring the way you describe her.'
'Her allure was more in her talent in magic.'
'Definitely how you describe someone ugly'
'That is not true! But you see pass the substantial when she can wield a wand like no other.'
'Oh.. oh eew! Too much information!'
She tunes out the expletives he tries to protest with. When she glances at the rows of photos hanged up in their hall, she's glad she resembles him in most ways. Even if her hair has a mind of its own.
'I am glad too child.'
'Oh definitely ugly.'
…
'There will come a day when I won't be with you as much.'
'It's because of Him isn't it.'
'Yes.'
'Am I in danger Old Man?'
'Not from him, no.'
'Then from who?'
'Everybody else'
She swallowed heavily, her throat bobbing up and down. Hers was a secret too dark she cannot let slip. Not to Harry, definitely not Ron nor the Weasleys, and not even to her parents.
Oh her parents. Hermione remembers how she once asked how they got her, and ended up in the awkward end of THE talk about birds and bees. Needless to say she never asked again, and they never did indicate she was anyone else's but theirs in her company. It was decidedly better to not break their unspoken agreement.
The following morning, she asks her parents to drive her to Diagon Alley for more supplies. Her mum gave her enough to replenish most of her potions supply and writing materials, and to purchase her new textbooks along with a few to spare. There was no need for new robes, she only grew a few inches. Thankfully her dad likes to spoil her a little, and just winked at her after handing a surprisingly heavy bag of galleons. Maybe this time she could get a cat, and a new edition of the book the old man suggested for her.
After getting most of her errands out of the way, she headed to the quaint shop of Noah's Bibliotheca. She raided the book store like a pirate hunting for treasures, amazed at the varying selection. There was Spell Crafting, Dragon Lore, Transfiguration for Tots, as well as the too pink cover of 10 Ways to Woo the Witch of Your Dreams. The bookshop offers more unique and note-worthy options for the more savant reader. It certainly has a better atmosphere than Flourish and Blott's.
Finally after scouring every bookcase and touching each cover like a drugged man on sensory overload, she spotted the book she truly needed. There it was, at a darker corner of the store among the more obscure tomes.
Her eyes were fully dilated, trying to adjust from the dim lighting, but could also be from the oxytocin and dopamines released from her enthusiasm. Unfortunately for her nasal congestion, said book was among the dusty ones too, judging from the fact that she couldn't stop sneezing.
Eager to start her new adventure among its pages, she dropped the book on the cashier counter with a resounding thud. Which was a misjudgement on her part, as she could see the tiny specs of dust flitter around her. Her nose was already protesting from the smell of old parchment and dry wood.
"An interesting choice. Would you like it wrapped?" Of course the store clerk would not think it hers, and adds Witches and Dragons to her fine selection.
"No thank you. Just this please." Hermione tries for politeness to speed up their exchange. Alas, she didn't seem convincing enough and thus left the store with two books in hand. Well, the more the merrier.
"Witches and Dragons? Didn't know you take to those books Granger." Oh cruel fate.
"I'm just surprised you know what they are Malfoy!" She sneers his name like it was the filthiest thing and that just angered the blonde more.
He is quite predictable as his posture stiffen like the intimidated peacock he is. She really shouldn't entertain his pettiness but Hermione likes to ruffle people's feather, so to speak- especially this albino bird, and just popped an elegant brow at him.
'Careful child, it is not wise to act so brazen like a Gryffindor among the public's eyes, especially not to an heir of a noble house'
'Not even to a prat heir of a noble house?'
'Not even.'
But it's times like this she wants to embrace her given house. Fortunately before she even pounced like a wild cat, an aristocratic voice interrupted their predictable childish squabble.
"Draco, do introduce me to your friend." Hermione is astute enough that the characterization was more for politeness sake. No pureblood should be caught openly hostile to her kind.
'You are not amongst those kind!' She wanted to flinch when his voice came out a little harsher than usual, but she remained passive.
'Be that as it may, no one knows but us.' Too true, and she hasn't fully come to terms with that yet.
Meanwhile, the blonde prat pulled his immaculate robes and stood straighter. She could just imagine the git preening and about to trill like the bird he is. Nevertheless, even if she is of "lower standing", he is not. Therefore years of etiquette lessons made him introduce her with polished grace, his voice placid and composed, like as if he was not about to spittle from anger. Well, 10 Points to his royal gitiness.
"Grandfather let me introduce to you, Hermione Granger. She is in the same year as I, and is sorted in the house of Gryffindor."
And when he addresses her, "Granger, this is my grandfather, his Lord Abraxas Marcius Malfoy II."
'Should I cursty?'
'A little bow of the head will suffice. You have a tendency to be clumsy. Do not curtsy.'
'Gee, such vote of confidence.'
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance Lord Malfoy."
After the curly haired witch carried out his suggestion, she was relieved to receive a nod back from his lordship. It felt like passing a test of sorts, and she likes being tested. If only Malfoy junior – junior's eyes could bug out more, she'd be more amused, but she seems to be growing a soft spot for the boy because she looked a little bit concerned. It must truly be surprising to be acknowledge by someone like Lord Malfoy.
Her amusement however was short lived. The man stared far too long, as if committing her face to memory. His steel grey eyes searching her honeyed ones that made a cold sense of dread settle deep in her, making her want to squirm.
'Try not to act like a worm under a microscope, child.'
Easy for him to say, he wasn't being scrutinized by all too knowing pale grey eyes. But something must have satisfied the man and the moment passed in a fast blur as she suddenly realize the duo have said their goodbyes and are now out the door in a flourish.
'What just happened?'
'It seems that you found yourself an ally.'
'Oh great more old people'
…
She decided to get headfirst on the more questionable book. Why a witch find a draconian man charming, she doesn't know. Correction, she doesn't want to know. Thus proceeded to gift the rose scented paperback to her mum. The older lady would appreciate it, to go along with those other books with painted flowers for their cover pages.
Now she's rid off the book, she can now aim her attention on the heavier tome.
Mind Magicke. Its leather cover tingling in her finger tips, and she resisted the urge to squeal like a teenage girl on Witch Weekly.
Hermione figured, on her part, that all thoughts and thinking are controlled by the most complex organ – the brain. It dictates and coordinates our actions, enables us to have memories and discern feelings, and most importantly it allows us to think – all things that make us human. If Lady Cassandra can protect her heart like goblins to their gold from charming Dragon Tamer Gibbon, then she too will protect her most treasured organ, her mind, with such ferocity. And it starts with this book.
'I'm surprised you got that far in that book'
'To be honest, I'm surprised too.'
'Well let me remind you that Lady Cassandra did succumb to the beguiling wiles of Gibbon'
'Beguiling wiles? Wait you read that book?'
'…'
'Hey old man!'
The necessity with guarding a mind like hers make her understand the importance of occluding once thoughts. Even if it gives her a terrible migraine. Unfortunately it also made her antsy, but that's probably just teenage hormones.
Her mornings we're filled with meditating outside under their neighbour's wild oak. Her legs folded under her as she adjust to her most relaxed state. Who knew practicing meditation is not just sitting down, closing your eyes and clearing your mind. It was definitely easier said than done.
'Focus more. Relax your mind, your thoughts are going a mile per second.'
'I can't! It's hard!'
'Listen to me child. Begin with observing your thoughts and emotions then let them pass without judgement.'
Achieving her "inner peace" took much concentration and effort. And tea… lots and lots of tea. She couldn't chew on aspirin everyday, but she needed caffeine in her body lest her brain short-circuit and she ends up drooling and asleep.
Her old man helped her a lot. Their lessons reminded her of Mr. Miyagi and she Julie.
'Guide your mind Hermione, the key here is not to expel the intruder but to trick them.'
'You must hide your ability to pick up skills, your ease at learning and compartmentalizing these information…'
'Most especially the depth of your knowledge.'
'Instead show your earnestness to learn, your preferential to books. Obscure your thoughts, look predictable and ordinary. You need not withhold them your thoughts. Just mask your feelings; your happiness to simple satisfaction, eagerness to curiosity. Rather distress, show discomfort. The hopelessness of your misery to fleeting teenage woes.'
'Show what is inconsequential, and that will be your best defence.'
After another heavy exhale, her mind are filled with facts, fiction, history, lessons. Never things too personal to her. Nothing about the paralyzing fear during her encounter with Professor Quirrell, nothing on her disappointment towards Hogwart's lacking curriculum, not her weird ability to understand hissing languages, not even her confusion with her parents, nor her fascination on ambiguous and slightly controversial magical theories. And most especially, nothing about him.
Some weeks later she could say she graduated from her pathetic white belt to a bad-ass black belt. Hiya! Take that Occlumency!
'More like disappointing yellow.' His voice drawled in disappointment. Oh alright, she exaggerated a bit.
Occlumency was hard. She was awful at it. If her transparent thoughts don't expose her then her expressive face will. No matter, if she cannot conceal her thoughts, then she'll just take the intruder into the inner-workings of a female teenager's mind.
However, despite her failure at occluding, she took legilimency like a duck to water. She could read people how she read books. And Hermione Granger is very good at reading books.
She started with some children playing in their nearby park, then some of those old retired men feeding the ducks whilst eating tuna sandwiches. Then took on moving targets, like the gangly teen boy skating recklessly or the police chasing after them. She was careful, gentle even, like her nimble fingers grazing the pages of her books oh-so-gently. And no one was the wiser. But they were muggles, she needed to practice on her kind.
Her experiment found herself at the clearing near a crooked looking house. She was at the Burrow. The humour didn't escape her. Weasels in a burrow, how no one finds it ironic was lost to her.
"Are you sure about this honey?" Her mother seemed uncertain, especially after having to ride the knight bus with her.
"Yes Mum, they're my friends. They're good people."
"Well. It's just that… look at that house? How many safety codes do you think they violated?"
"Probably all of them."
When she's good and settled, she left to join the rest of the Weasley brood while her mum chatters with the matron of the house.
"Cor! Hermione! Fly with us?"
"It's alright Ron, I'm good here. On the ground, where it's safe and steady." She shouted from below them, while the twins wave back to her.
She forgo bringing a book to watch them. The twins were circling her friend, passing a quaffle back and forth.
She scanned the flying group.
The twins are not good candidates for her experiment. They're too aware of their surroundings and their mischief makes them good at avoiding getting caught. They might feel her brush of intrusion. Ginny, the youngest Weasley was still inside helping her mother, so that leaves Ron.
They said that you should never underestimate your opponent. Ron's good at chess, and maybe too good at it that he could see her approach. But her wildcard is that she has read people before. The magazine and colouring books didn't satisfy her during the many sessions with Dr. Ghastly-skirt Perrier. She didn't need legilimency to do that, no she had a crash course in human psychology and body language. It was one of the reasons she had evaded any suspicion from the doctor. Plus the fact she wasn't really crazy, there really was a voice in her head.
She knows Ron. So Ron it is.
The thing they didn't write on the book was that entering ones mind produce different kinds of sensation. That's why you have to understand the basics of occlumency, otherwise you'll drown in a sticky swamp of emotions. For example, a child's mind feels like entering a playful bubble. The skater teen, like rough sandpaper and the mucky gust of wind. The nursing mother, a mixture of adulation and warm blankets. And the retired veteran like a hardened metal, cold with honed edges.
Now Ron, oh sweet Ron. Literally too sweet for her, felt like entering a chaotic blend of chocolate and quidditch. It was disconcerting how obvious it was. Basic wizarding boy at his prime. She just thank Godric Gryffindor he was still free from randy pubescent thoughts. But there was a dusty corner in his mind. Something that spreads along the halls of his thoughts. There she see, his insecurities, his anxiety, and fears. The self-doubt of being the youngest male Weasley, brother to a curse-breaker, to a madcap dragon tamer, the accomplished head-boy, two dapper ingenious pranksters and their most coveted female child. His anxiety in the form of spider-like dark grain, crawling over the walls. It is no wonder he has such a short fuse, small things can ignite him like a spark to gun powder. And he explodes like firework.
"You lousy gits! All you do is bogart the quaffle!"
Like said quaffle he zooms from one place to another. How Ron could still think that he can get pass between the twins baffles her. Years living with them should have taught him new tactics, not his burned-out technique of chasing one after the other.
"Aww. Is ickle -"
"- Ronniekins - "
"- too slow -"
"- for us dashing debonairs!"
"Oh. Why thank you Gred!"
"My pleasure Forge!"
Ahh the twins, amusing and annoying. The igniter of fireworks. And Ron just like a firecracker, heats up, red and ready to explode.
"YOU BLOODY BERKS!"
But despite his creeping self-doubt. There was a shimmer of silver. The one that made him give his last raspberry tart to Ginny when she was down with a flu, or snickering with the twins when they hid all of Percy's trousers before leaving for the train, and his pure adoration and familial pride for the two elder Weasleys. He had fierce loyalty, and it was nice to see it extending to her and Harry. Especially for her, since they got off on a rocky start. She can't help but smile warmly up at him. When Ron saw her, he did not hesitate to return it toothily. Something pink spread in his thoughts and Hermione retreated too quickly that Ron's broom gave a shake.
'Oops'
'NO!'
'What?'
'No! You will not pursue anything with that Weasley boy!'
'What? What do you mean?'
'NO! Stop that blushing child!'
Was she really? Maybe it was just the wind, it was rather windy.
…
