Chapter 7: Progress

Hermione dances her way to the Gryffindor portrait. She did it, she actually did it. It's the first Saturday in October and for the first time she had managed to direct Malfoy's intrusion into her mind, focusing on happy memories instead. Of course he insisted that they continue to go a few more rounds to make sure she could keep it up. She'd failed twice, but succeeded three times. Progress, finally.

"Where have you been?" Ron's harsh voice meets her the second she's in the common room. But even that can't wipe the smile from her face.

"What does it matter Ron?" she replies happily.

"You missed lunch."

"I wasn't hungry."

"But where were you?" he presses.

"Ron," she rolls her eyes and smiles.

"Well...where were you off hiding? Didn't even show up on the map."

"What was that?" Her eyes are suddenly sharp and glaring at her target.

"I said," Ron huffs, "where were you hiding?"

"Was there some reason you were searching for me on the map?"

"We didn't know where you were," he defends.

"I'll take that as a 'no.' Unless there is some dire reason you need me, I do not want you spying on me via that map. Are we clear?" Ron doesn't respond and Hermione doesn't really wait for one as she turns around and heads back out the portrait hole. The nerve of him. She shakes her head and walks to the library.

"Mmm roast," Harry comments as he sit across from Hermione at dinner that night. Ron sits beside him, blatantly ignoring the witch's existence. A sympathetic smile lifts one corner of Harry's mouth when he notices her glance at Ron. "Did you finish the Charm's assignment?"

"Yes, this afternoon," she replies, glad for a safe avenue of conversation. "Have you done it yet?" He shakes his head.

"I've been a bit busy." A meaningful look indicates it has to do with the headmaster. She nods.

"Harry," Ron cuts in abruptly, "did you hear about the new people on the Ravenclaw team?" Harry looks back at her guiltily before turning to Ron.

"No, I haven't heard much about who was added." Ron starts breaking it down, shooting a smug glance at Hermione. Shaking her head, she continues to eat and shift through her mind, trying to build barriers like the books' said. Dinner slips by relatively easy.

"Hermione?" Harry says, as she head to her room. Ron looks back at him, from the stairs to the boy's dorms. Huffing, Ron turns away and continues up the stairs. Hermione shifts towards Harry and waits. Once Ron is out of sight, he speaks again.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well I know Ron has been on about you being 'missing,' but...well, I know I have been so busy and everything. I just wanted to make sure there wasn't something wrong." She throws her arms around him. It only takes a second for him to return her hug. A childhood of only being touched with malice, made Harry adverse to being touched, but he had made a lot of progress over the years.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispers.

"Of course," he says, pulling back to look into her eyes. "But is there anything?" he presses. She shakes her head.

"No. I mean there is a lot going on, but nothing's wrong." He smiles and it warms her.

"Alright. Night." She smiles back and holds it until he disappears. Then the smile slowly fades, and her eyes droop.

"I hate hiding things," she mutters, before heading off to bed too.

"Ready, Granger?" Malfoy asks, standing across from Hermione in the Room of Requirement. October has all, but become the past at this point. She nods. "On three…"

He reaches into her mind. She can feel it pressing through the layers of the defense, slowed, but not stopped. Hermione latches onto the stand connecting them in her mind's eyes. Grey eyes engulf her before the first scene takes shape.

Dark wood floors and expensive furniture decorate the large parlor. A scream of agony echoes. A small blonde boy twitches on the floor.

"How," the man standing over him yells over the his cries, "did a mudblood get better marks than you?" The screaming pitches. "Are you a Malfoy or not, boy?" The curse is lifted and an eleven year old curls into fetal position. "Answer me." The boy whimpers in response.

"Crucio," the man yells and the screams reverberate even as the scene is whipped away and replace.

The door is cracked open to bedroom. Inside a woman with long blonde hair is sitting on the edge of the bed, sobbing silently.

"I don't know what you were thinking," her husband towers over at her. "Now is not the time for this." He walks towards the door. "Pull yourself together," he commands before walking out. Her son creeps into the room, he must be eighteen years old, but there are more lines on his face then there should be.

"Draco," she says softly, reaching a hand out to him. He walks to her and cradles her against his chest.

"Shh," he says softly, rubbing circles into her back. "It's okay, it'll be okay."

"I'm so sorry," she whispers.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." A streak of defiance visible in his features also sneaks into his voice.

"No, it's my fault," she argues, pulling back to look at him. Tears still slide down her cheeks. "I just-" her voice break, "I wanted us to be happy again and I thought...he was so happy when you were born." Sobs engulf her body once more and he pulls her to him.

"Shh, shh, don't worry." The words are soothing, even the tone, but the fire in his eyes speaks of uncontained fury.

The image is whipped away as Hermione falls onto her bottom back in the room. She glances up at a Malfoy with every muscle stained. His jaw, clamped shut, pulses. His eyes stay trained on her as she stands.

"Malfoy…" Hermione starts, but his eyes narrow. She could feel his loneliness, his aching for his father's approval, and when his father became nothing to him and the hate that unleashed. His love for his mother and his inability to protect her from all the horrible things in the world. She could feel it all in those memories. And what could she possibly say to that? He had ignored it when it came to seeing her unpleasant memories. While that was easier, it was fear and uncertainty that drove him to that reaction and Hermione wasn't put in Gryffindor for nothing.

The witch steps purposely across the room to where Malfoy-no Draco is standing. He shifts back slightly. Hermione wraps her arms around his neck and holds him close.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that happened to you, Draco," she whispers. He relaxes at her words, his hands fall lightly around her waist and his chin rests on the top of her head.

"I hate him," he says softly after a moment. Hermione hasn't pulled away.

"I know," she answer.

"When he died in the war before...I was relieved." She doesn't know what to say to that so simply held him tighter. "But he's not dead now and I can't protect her anymore now than I could then." She squeezes him one more time before pulling back. His fingers trail over her hips as he lets her go. Shoulders squared, she looks him in the eye.

"Then we'll figure out how to protect her," Hermione says firmly. The words are true as they fall from her lips. No one deserves to be treated that way, to have those awful things happen to them, to have the growing life within them magicked away because of bad timing.

"We?" he asks and she smiles back.

"Yes." He nods.

"Ok."

More occlumency doesn't sound like a good idea with both of their emotions so close to the surface, but neither wanted to leave the safe haven of that room. So they pull out homework and work on that. The silence is comfortable, filled with the scratching of quills on parchment and the fluttering of pages being turned. It feels right, this normalcy after the day they've had. Ron may whine when Hermione returns to the common room. Lucius Malfoy may be plotting pain for his family. But right now, hidden in a secret room of Hogwart, things don't seem too bad.