Chapter 5: Clear Your Mind
"You know if you are quite done moaning about your clothes, Granger, we can actually start on something important," Malfoy says.
"I'm sorry if I don't exactly relish the idea that all of my clothes were altered into slut wear," Hermione snaps, blood still boiling.
"Slut wear?" He raises an eyebrow with a smirk.
"Yes, slut wear."
"You had no problem showing off your figure at the Yule Ball," he points out.
"I was wearing a dress. I wasn't walking around practically naked!" Malfoy roll his eyes.
"And you call me a drama queen. You aren't naked, Granger."
"By the way some people were looking at me, I certainly feel naked," she mutters under her breath.
"Then hex them. Or buy new clothes."
"With what gold?"
"You're Hermione bloody Granger. When did you become so whiny? Figure it out," he says, eyes flashing with irritation.
Hermione pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. He's right about some things. She is not at her best, not even halfway there. Not that anyone could blame her, less than a week ago she was in a dungeon being tortured. They were just clothes, but after all the things should couldn't begin to complain about, they seemed like the emblem of all the things that made her want to rant and scream and cry. And she'd really had more than her fill with the Hogwarts students today. With a deep breath, she looks at Malfoy.
"You said there was something important to discuss," she says evenly.
"Yes, making a plan and getting you up to a first year slytherin's level in deceit," he replies with a smirk.
"First year?"
"Yeah, it shouldn't take much to fool Potty and Weasel." She rolls her eyes, but otherwise ignores the jab at her friends. "Do you know anything of occlumency?"
"I know the idea."
"On the train I could see the event from before you came back, but the Dark Lord didn't see those before? Or did he not look in your mind?"
"Before I came back, Dumbledore said my memories from before would be shielded for about a month before they slip into place with the rest of them," she answers honestly.
"That makes sense. Well that is where we will start then. It'll help you in lying to your dogs and I would really prefer for the Dark Lord not find out I had prior knowledge of any events."
"Okay."
"The long way is easier, but I don't really feel time is on our side. So the hard way it is. You are to empty your mind and try to keep me out. When we are not doing this, you should spend time emptying your thoughts and building barriers in your mind. Are you ready?" Malfoy stands and Hermione follows suit.
"So just empty my mind?" she asks.
"Yep." She swallows and nods. "On three. One, two, three."
She feels the intrusion, but is helpless to stop it. Before her eyes appears Ron, Harry and Hermione sitting in Hagrid's cabin as second years. Ron is hiccuping slugs into a bucket.
"He said a word," Harry tries to explain. "But I don't know what it means."
"He called me a mudblood," child Hermione tells him.
"No," Hagrid gasps.
"What does it mean?" Harry asks.
"Mudblood is a foul name for muggleborn. Someone like me. It means dirty blood," she whispers. The adult witch feels the child's ache deep in her own chest.
The scene is whipped away and replaced with a fourth year Hermione sitting on the steps in one of Hogwarts' staircases. She wears the dress from the Yule ball. Tears slip down her cheeks silently. Intense loneliness cripples the adult witch watching the scene. Then it's gone.
When Hermione is able to see Malfoy standing in front of her again, his emotionless mask is firmly in place. Her hand is pulled to her face and wipes at the tears there.
"Again," he says, but the word doesn't feel harsh. She nods. "Empty your mind, Granger. You are floating on a lake, all of your thoughts floating away. It is only you. On three. One, two…"
The Hogwarts ground expands before them, the last battle waging. That timeline's Hermione is fighting off a death eater, but Harry's fight with Voldemort is in her sight. A cutting curse makes it around his shield and hits his arm. He's losing a lot of blood. His arm falters for a second, his wand hand coming down a few inches. Voldemort presses his advantage. A few more cutting curses and Harry is lying in a pool of his blood.
"Goodbye Harry Potter," Voldemort's voice is heard a mere second before the green light hits.
"No," Hermione screams. The death eater she was fighting is down. She glances over the field, there are only a couple of fights still progressing. The majority of the light is already dead and the rest of the death eaters are ganging up on those who are not yet. Hopeless floods her system. 'This is it,' she thinks. 'We lost.'
Hermione is standing in the Room of Requirement with Malfoy once more. She collapses onto knees, sobs cutting their way through her body. She doesn't care that Malfoy is standing there watching her.
"I can't do it again," she whimpers. "I can't watch them die. We can't lose. Not again."
"Granger…" She looks up at him and for once he seems to be completely out of his element. "I think that's enough for today," he says. "I'll send word of when we'll meet again." Then he's gone and she's alone.
Hermione walks through the portrait hole into Gryffindor tower two minutes before curfew. She's erased all traces of her crying with magic, but it doesn't ease the heaviness.
"Where have you been?" Ron shouts the second she's through the portrait hole.
"The library." With only a day on the magical potions, she does not have energy for this conversation.
"It's been hours and no one has seen you," he accuses.
"I didn't know you were my keeper," she bites back, before turning and going up to her room. She doesn't look when he calls her name.
Hermione draws the curtains around her bed and cast a silencing charm over the area. A few sobs break through her lips before exhaustion takes over.
Harry stands before Hermione, covered from head to toe in blood. Large gashes cover his arms and legs and body.
"You lied to me," he says, his voice scary calm.
"It was the only way I knew how to protect you," she pleads back.
"Protect me? I do not need you," he spits. "Do you think I care that we won the war? That your parents died? My best friend lied to me. I will never trust you." He turns away.
"Harry," she screams.
"Don't you ever speak to me again," he says without looking back at her. She struggles against the chains that bind her hands and feet to the stone walls.
"Harry," she cries again, but there is no answer.
Her sobbing pulls her back to consciousness. It is still two hours before anyone else will be up, but the idea of sleep (and dreaming) more is unappealing. After calming down enough to stop crying, Hermione cancels the silencing charm and get ready for the day. She decide to work on homework she didn't have energy for last night.
Harry walks down the stairs as Hermione rolls up the last parchment.
"Breakfast?" he asks. Together they walk to the Great Hall.
The days fall into an easy rhythm for the rest of the week. Classes and meals, homework and books. Every night the nightmares wake Hermione up either screaming or sobbing. She refuses to take the sleeping potion, but rather put up silencing charms around her bed as not to wake the others. Malfoy hasn't talked to her since Monday or sent message. He was right, however. Within a couple days, no one seemed to pay attention to her clothing anymore. Even Ron learned to be a bit more respectful, though that may have taken a hex or two.
There are very few people in the Great Hall when Hermione sits down for breakfast on Saturday morning. Most people sleep in on weekends. With the nightmares, the witch doesn't have that option, not that she was ever one to sleep in.
A semi-large owl swoops down, landing on the table beside her. It is brown and average in every way. It sticks it's leg out and Hermione unties the parchment. Before she can do much else, the owl steals a piece of bacon and takes off.
"Same place as soon as you finish breakfast. -M" the parchment reads. She swallows her food down quickly, while still with more manners than Ron will ever have. Malfoy is nowhere in sight when she arrives at the seventh floor corridor. Hermione walks to the wall and place a hand on it. So many memories, some that haven't even happened in this timeline yet, or maybe never will.
"Granger," Malfoy says from behind her and she jumps away from the wall with a yelp, old instincts reaching for her wand.. He is standing from floor across the hall. He creates and enters the room, before turning to look at her.
"Blimey, Granger, you look awful," he says.
"Well thank you, Malfoy," she replies sarcastically.
"Are you falling ill?" he says, taking a step back. She rolls her eyes.
"No I'm fine. Can we begin now?" He sighs.
"Sure, you ready? On three. One, two…"
Emma Granger stands in the living room of their home, smiling until the light slowly leaves her eyes and her skin goes pale.
"Why? Please tell me what we did that you would just stand there why we died?" she asks calming.
"I'm so sorry Mum," the Hermione in the dream cries.
"Did you really not love us? We did everything we could for you. Took care of you despite all the strangeness. We loved you even when no one else did. Now who will you have? You will die alone."
"Mum," the dream witch wails.
"Mum," the real Hermione cries as the Room of Requirement appears again, tears blurring the scene. She is on her knees yet again, but doesn't look at Malfoy, who is standing six feet away.
"You're having nightmares, still," he says. It's not a question, but she nods anyways. "Merlin, Granger. Is that why you look like shite? 'Cause you're not sleeping?"
"I sleep enough," she replies without looking up. Her breath comes slower and more evenly every second. She wipes at the tears and no more fall.
"Madam Pomfrey can get you a potion to stop that for a bit, you know."
"I don't want a potion," she snaps, standing. He opens his mouth, but she says first, "Again." He nods.
"Empty your mind, clear all thoughts away. On three, one, two…" Malfoy standing in front of her is replaced with a nine year old Hermione.
She's sitting in a desk, a large book before her. Four girls are to her right, two sitting in desks and the other two standing. A girl with long, straight blonde hair is speaking.
"It is going to be the best party ever," she says to the girls. "And it is invite only," she winks. "Brittney," she says, holding out an invitation. Brittney stands from her desk and hugs the girl. "Lisa and Jessica." The other two girls receive their invitations. Nine year old Hermione seems not to notice, but if that was actually true she should have turned the page by now.
"Hermione," the blonde girl says sweetly as she turns to her. She looks up at the girl, hope shining in her eyes. "I'm having a birthday party in two weeks. It's invite only." She twirls an invitation in her hand. "And I was wondering if you would do me a big favor," she places the invitation on the nine year witch's desk, "and give this to Dylan. You have him in your next class, right?"
Little Hermione's face falls. She nods and whispers, "Sure." She looks back down at the text as the girls turns back to her friends.
"Like I would ever invite the buck tooth beaver to my party," she laughs with her friends. The little girl pulls the book higher so no one sees the couple of tears that escape and make their way down her cheeks.
The adult witch stumbles back a step as the Room of Requirement slides back into sight.
"I can really see why you are so endeared to the muggles," Malfoy says sarcastically.
"Oh shut it Malfoy," she snaps. The memories doing nothing to help her already spent patience. "Like wizards and witches are so much better."
"We are better in every way," he sneers.
"Shall I remind you of how you have treated me. I would say you have done worse than those muggle children."
"You will find the magical world much more welcoming once you are in your place. It is only because you are constantly trying to break into to upper echelons of society that you find so much trouble."
"Do you actually believe that?" she asks, mouth gaping slightly.
"Yes," he answers immediately. "If you let nature take over and place you at the appropriate spot in social classes, then despite some general snide comments, there wouldn't be much further trouble. All the trouble comes from you needing to learn your place."
"Wow. And here I thought you may actually possess some intelligence. If you actually believe that drivel…"
"Granger, it is how things are done. Wizarding society is not barbaric. It is only muggleborns constantly trying to upset things in a world that they do not understand that causes purebloods to act with a little less tact."
"You know that sounds all nice and good, except that even the idea is barbaric. But even then, if that was the actual truth, it would be much sweeter to the taste than reality. I guess lies are always less harsh. You want one, just one, example that brings all you have said to light as a lie?" He didn't answer, just stared. "Voldemort," she enunciates.
Malfoy flinches at the name.
"For all the propaganda that bastard spouts about taking back society, the half-blood is just a sadistic man using power and prejudices to destroy our, yes our, world."
"Half-blood?" Of course that is all he got out of what she said.
"Yes, half-blood," she smirks.
"Makes sense with how little he respects purebloods," he says casually. "Doesn't change anything though. He has power, and a lot of it. It's suicide to go against him, half-blood or not."
An angry growl escapes her lips.
"Again?" Hermione sighs. "On three…"