Chapter 9
Draco surveyed Granger's dark room in the quiet of the night.
He was floored from her conversation with the Snake Charmer portrait. She knew much more about him than he did of her. And she understood.
How?
Thinking back to when they first met at the Mudblood raid, she had asked him if he wanted to leave. And there at Hogwarts, just a few days ago, she was trying to save some kid that for all intents and purposes could have been him at a younger age. Used to punish his parents or force them into compliance.
Briefly he wondered if she would have tried to get him out last year had she known what was going on. Dumbledore had certainly tried, but it was too late for him by then. Draco had been too naive to understand that he was being used to punish his parents. But he had learned that lesson the hard way, and now saw they were all being used.
Squeezed for everything they were worth.
Granger had certainly put some thought into who he was as a person and the situation he found himself in. He hadn't put any thought into who she was and the situation she was in. He hadn't cared. Draco wasn't supposed to care or be curious, or have any desire to know. Those ideas were traitorous. He'd be punished just for wanting to know the inner workings of filth or to consider the feelings of a person inferior to him.
But what really made him angry, was that all this was forbidden.
And what of Muggles?
Ever since Charity Burbage was eaten alive, he had been wondering why it was accepted that teaching Muggle Studies would merit such a horrific death. If Muggles were indeed filthy, depraved creatures, then what harm would come from learning exactly why they were? He could understand not finding a course useful, but why torture a teacher to death for doing her job?
Draco still had trouble going to sleep, often recalling exposed bones and pieces of torn flesh, and he shuddered at the memory.
It was so extreme, and yet no one wanted to know what it was that generated so severe a punishment. What could possibly be the harm in learning about an inferior people?
He had a sinking feeling that he didn't know at all what Muggles did or how they lived. He didn't know if he had been lied to intentionally, or if it simply wasn't known. Furthermore, he was very curious about the other books that Granger had in her room. Her Muggle astronomy book wasn't like any text he'd ever seen. He couldn't explain its contents.
And that was only one.
Brainwashed.
He recalled Granger's derisive assessment of him. He wasn't brainwashed. But he didn't like the thought that information had been kept from him either, whether it was intentional or not. And a lot of information had indeed been withheld.
The thought that Draco would be punished for asking questions made him resentful.
Defiant.
The Dark Lord was gone again and he thought it a good opportunity to find answers to what he didn't dare ask.
Granger's house was dark, empty, and eerily quiet. He knew no one was living here. Her parents disappeared and were never found. He had witnessed Greyback and Jugson being tortured upon returning from the attempted kidnapping with nothing to show for it.
Draco didn't know much about her. Hadn't ever wanted to. She was Pothead's swotty Mudblood sidekick that spent her days working extra hard to make up for her innate inferiority. She was smart. Obviously. And he was forced to grudgingly admit she wasn't just book smart either. Others hadn't acted with as much foresight as she had, and they were sitting in dungeons dispersed throughout England because of it.
He darkened Granger's bedroom window and flicked the switch, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the overhead light. It was surprising. If he wanted as much light as this room had, there would be more torches and candles placed along the wall and hung from the ceiling. He strained his eyes at the light. There was a faint circular outline behind a gauze material. He could only find one light source and had to admit he was impressed. It was far more efficient than what he was familiar with in the wizarding world. And it was lit and extinguished so cleanly and quickly.
He flicked the switch on and off a few times, as Granger had.
Instantaneous.
Resting his hand on the doorknob, Draco paused, wondering again what the hell he was doing here. His heart thudded in his chest. Nobody was here, but he was nervous. If he opened that door, he had a feeling he wouldn't like what he saw.
Feeling rebellious in that he had been lied to, he pushed the door open anyway. The hallway was dark and he saw more light switches on the wall. He flicked his wand and grinned as they all moved up at once, lighting up the hallway, revealing a few more doorways and stairs leading downwards. He exhaled the breath he was holding.
An utterly unassuming hallway with doors and rooms. And it was forbidden.
Why?
Curiously, he walked down the hallway and opened the first door to his left. It was a bedroom, but with no personal affects. A guest room perhaps. He wondered if Granger was an only child like he was. Another door led to a bathroom. The toilet and shower looked the same as in the Wizarding world. He didn't understand why Muggles were always described as dirty. Granger's bedroom didn't seem dirty. She didn't seem dirty. When he had lay down on her bed, it had smelled nice, and was certainly clean.
Indeed, some of his Slytherin dorm mates were positively disgusting and no one called them filthy. At least, not in the way they called Mudbloods and Muggles filthy. Greg's socks would get so bad Draco had actually burned a few of them to remove the stench from the dorms.
The Muggle bathrooms were similar enough to wizard bathrooms. There were some objects Draco didn't recognize on the sink and he picked them up individually, turning them over in his hands. After reading the labels, he understood they were designed to clean teeth. He picked up the toothpaste, squeezed it curiously and put it back down.
All he had to do was a quick Scourgify. Half a second. Muggles didn't have magic. Apparently, keeping teeth clean required a much more complicated process without it. He exited the bathroom and opened a door to find a linen closet. Nothing interesting there. Another door showed what was obviously Granger's parents' bedroom. He turned back to the hallway, taking in several pictures hanging on the wall, filled with people he didn't recognize.
Still, unmoving pictures. All of them.
Aside from the fact that the pictures didn't move, the people looked… regular. Normal. Again, they didn't appear dirty. They didn't seem any less intelligent. With the exception of the obviously Muggle clothing that many witches and wizards were starting to wear nowadays anyway, especially the half-bloods and Mudbloods, he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.
But they didn't have magic, which made them inferior. Less evolved.
Draco leaned in and scrutinized the teeth in the smiling mouth of a woman who was obviously Hermione's mother. Muggles didn't have the benefit of a Scourgify, but the toothpaste, dental floss and miniature brushes he saw on the bathroom sink seemed to work just fine.
He scanned the wall for pictures of the little brown-nosing bitch growing up and with a start, realized she wasn't in any of them. That was odd. He inspected the photos more closely. There were several pictures framed such that it looked as if another person should have been there. No, it wasn't that Granger wasn't in the pictures, she had been removed from the pictures.
He stood back, perturbed. Why would she do such a thing? It looked as if she were removing all memory of-
Draco sucked in a breath, completely stunned.
She Obliviated her parents in order to hide them. She removed all memory of herself from their minds, and the evidence of her existence in the pictures. He stood there blinking dumbly at the wall. It was clear now as he backed away to look at the lopsided composition of all of the photographs. Her missing self from all of these moments in her life.
Draco thought of his own parents. He thought of what he would do to protect them. Of what he had done his sixth year at Hogwarts, of his service to the Dark Lord and now of his betrayal. It was all for him and his parents. If he could Obliviate them to keep them safe, he would. His eyes grew hot with tears at the thought of staring into his mother's eyes, her peering back at him as she would a stranger.
He wished they could all run away.
Why didn't Granger run away? She hid her parents; she hid many of the Muggle-borns and their families and the Dark Lord hadn't found any of them. She could obviously hide herself. Why did she stay and fight?
He scoffed.
Of course she would stay and fight. Who in their right mind would want to live amongst Muggles? She knew what the Wizarding world was. The Muggle world was exile. It was an inferior existence, not worthy of anyone with magical blood. Even for Mudbloods like her. That's why she stayed and fought.
He considered Granger's motivations. Was that really all it was? Draco was doing everything he could to protect his family and friends. Isn't that what she was doing as well? Was she so dissimilar from him in that regard?
Obviously she was very brave. Gryffindor and all that shit. She cared deeply for her friends and refused to abandon them. And she cared deeply for her family, willing to go to great lengths to defend them too. She was protecting her loved ones across two completely different worlds.
But then… She came to sodding Hogwarts while it was run by Death Eaters to remove a child she didn't even know.
Protecting those she loved was also why she stayed and fought.
He couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for her. Especially when he could identify so readily with her motivations.
Not only that, but he was forced to admit that if he was in her place, he would have disappeared with his family and returned after the war was done. Draco would have let someone else do the fighting for him.
He mulled over his revelations. Granger was doing something that he never would have the bollocks to do. She wasn't standing off to the side, letting someone else fight her battles while she hid. She was planting herself firmly in the middle of the warzone.
But she was a Mudblood.
She was supposed to be inferior and a corrupting influence on pure-blood society.
None of what he knew about Mudbloods felt right anymore.
Maybe she was an exception?
Feeling morose and conflicted, he wandered back to her room, flicking off all the lights in the hallway with his wand.
He wondered what else Granger had to read.
ooooooooooooooooooooo
Hermione sat at her parents' kitchen and stared into the light brown sultry eyes of an exotic looking older woman with long black hair, dark skin and painted red lips. She looked vaguely familiar, but Hermione was certain she would have remembered someone so striking.
Hermione extended her hand to introduce herself but the woman held up an index finger with a long red nail.
"No names."
She slowly pulled her hand back, even more curious as to the identity of this woman. She had a faint accent that was not readily identified.
"So," she purred with a curve of her red lips. "Kingsley tells me you need to learn Occlumency."
Hermione was grateful to be starting her lessons so soon. Running into Death Eaters at the Hogwarts evacuation made the threat of capture more imminent. The Order was lucky everyone escaped without harm. No doubt Malfoy would be thinking the same thing, having seen her at the castle. He would press her again about Occlumency, for sure. Thankfully, she could say she was making progress.
"I do," Hermione replied, already fascinated with her. "And thank you for teaching me. I hadn't realized that Legilimency was such a rare skill."
"Competent Legilimency is a rare skill," the woman clarified, her gold earrings jingled as she spoke. "Most Aurors can enter your mind and see your memories. A skilled Legilimens can not only trick you into revealing precisely what you want to hide, but break down the barriers of an Occlumens." Her voice had a velvety quality to it. Hermione could listen to her speak all day. "The more highly skilled the Occlumens, the more difficult it is for a Legilimens to succeed, if they can at all. And from what I understand, that's the level you need to achieve, correct?"
"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Is that possible?"
The woman spread her red lips in a small smile. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't. But it's hard work and requires more discipline than other fields of practical knowledge. Even then, not many can develop the skill."
Hermione straightened her shoulders. She was never one to shy from hard work. And she was certainly disciplined. However, she knew she was making a gamble and her resolve faltered somewhat. If this woman was going into her mind, she might see information about the Horcruxes. She would also learn that Malfoy was spying for them. Hermione would not be able to keep her out if the woman pressed and she highly doubted this woman would allow Hermione to Obliviate her.
The woman noticed her concern right away and raised an eyebrow.
"There's one thing I'm worried about," Hermione said.
"Yes?" The woman crossed her legs under her black pencil skirt and laid back in her chair, waiting for Hermione to elaborate.
"There are things that I know that…" Hermione didn't know how to explain. The woman would likely find out about them anyway. "It would be better if you didn't know them. Not even Kingsley knows them." She didn't want the woman to think that she was keeping her in the dark for negative reasons. "For your own safety, as well as the outcome of this war."
"I believe that is why you need to learn in the first place." Hermione nodded and she continued with a small smile. "I'm good with secrets." The 's' in secrets was nearly a hiss when it left her mouth.
Right. A skilled Legilimens would know everyone's secrets. Wouldn't they? And Hermione had to chance it. They needed a spy.
Like Remus, Tonks and Minerva, Kingsley knew that the trio was up to something extremely important that they couldn't share, and Kingsley certainly had his own web of intrigue and informants that the Order wasn't always privy to. If he trusted this woman with Malfoy's betrayal of Voldemort and the trio's mission, then Hermione could too. Kingsley saw the larger picture, and acted upon it.
The woman turned a diamond ring on her finger and leaned forward. "There are two techniques we will practice today. The first is to clear your mind and calm your emotions. It is your thoughts and emotions which will point a skilled Legilimens precisely to where you don't want them to go, or reveal that you have something worth discovering in the first place. I expect you to do this twice daily: once in the morning and once in the evening." She straightened her blouse and leaned forward. "Some people like to picture a lake. Some a quiet field. Or rain pattering on a window pane. Eventually, you will learn to do this on demand. Like that." The woman snapped her fingers.
Hermione groaned inwardly. Occlumency sounded an awful lot like meditation. She was terrible at meditation. Her mind was always racing from one thought to the next. Clearing her mind would be where she struggled. The woman was right. Learning Occlumency would require discipline. A lot of discipline.
She must have revealed too much. The woman gave her a look of such supreme dissatisfaction because… well… Hermione's emotions were written all over her face. She would be awful at this.
"If you don't learn to hide your emotions and one day, cover them up with others, you will never succeed. It is extremely important."
"I'll do my best," Hermione insisted.
"Your best is not good enough," the woman retorted harshly. "I may as well not teach you anything with what you're up against. Don't waste my time."
Hermione swallowed. "You're right. I'll learn. I'll do what it takes and work hard."
She must have sensed Hermione's resolve because the woman nodded and her expression softened. "The second technique is to compartmentalize the thoughts you want to protect, and this is what will require your magic." She rested her hands on her thighs and continued. "Sometimes it helps to picture some physical method of storage such as a series of doors, drawers and cabinets, filing folders, boxes, books…"
Hermione's eyebrows rose. "I could create a library of memories?"
She nodded. "If that idea appeals to you then by all means." The woman held out an old brown, somewhat beaten textbook entitled Magic of the Mind and Hermione took it from her. "This is my copy, and how I began to learn when I was…" she gazed briefly over Hermione's shoulder as if recollecting a fond memory and then smiled down at her. "Perhaps a few years younger than you are now."
"Thank you," Hermione said, and paged through the well-worn tome. "So you're a skilled Occlumens and Legilimens?"
"Not at all." The woman brushed a long lock of black hair away from her face. "It's impossible to be a good Legilimens without knowing some Occlumency, but I'm hardly an expert. And I don't need to be. The best defense is a good offense."
Hermione looked up from the book, intrigued. "How would that work?"
The woman's red lips formed a sinister smile. "Try getting past the mental barriers of someone who has already penetrated yours, dangling your secrets in front of you to see. Perhaps even creating false memories of your worst fears and torturing you with them." Her voice lowered to a near whisper. "In such situations, it is hard to hold onto your sanity."
The smile on her face was wicked, as if she relished the ability to do precisely what she described. Hermione again felt stirrings of unease at the fact that this woman would be delving into the recesses of her mind.
Hermione had never met anyone like her.
Who was this woman that Kingsley trusted so implicitly?
Chapter end notes:
The idea of being emotionless for Occlumency and storing memories in boxes or books comes from LovesBitca8 in her The Right Thing to Do Series and Sex and Occlumency from Graendoll. There may be authors that used these ideas earlier but those are the stories that are the most forefront in my mind.
