Chapter 2

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I got away with it. Not one word, nor even a sidelong glance was sent my way. I was almost as pleased with myself as I was disgusted. It was not my intention to spend a substantial amount of my time inside Granger's brain enjoying the sensations of her body. She is attractive in a way, sure. With those determined brown eyes and surprisingly seductive lips—when they're not moving that is. But I don't care if she had the face of an angel sent from heaven, she's still a mudblood. It's as simple as that. She's beneath me.

She's beneath me. She's a mudblood. I say this to myself repeatedly over the next few days. It's my new mantra. I'm so tempted to get back inside that little Gryffindor skull that I go out of my way to avoid her in hallways and at mealtimes. It was no use trying to sate myself by rummaging through Daphne's head. That brain was so fascinating that I practically fell asleep in there.

So here I am. It smells of dust, ink, and the faintest hint of leather. The library is the refuge of bookworms and loners alike. Granger is the former and me, the latter. I never used to be such an outcast but since the war ended people either avoid me or I avoid them. There are two categories of people in this school: those ashamed to be seen with me and those who wish I was dead. That's why I've come to enjoy spending time in the library. It's a solitary place where people are expected to keep quiet. I fit right in.

Daily, without fail, Granger settles herself down in some dimly lit corner of the stacks. She never has just one book on the table in front of her. It's always at least three. From observing her, one might get the impression piles of books are her bulwark. That she feels herself the princess protected by a fortress of knowledge. What she doesn't know is that a heap of papers can't keep me out. Nothing can.

I try to stay on the opposite end of the library with the rows of books blocking her from my sight. This evening I'm studying for Care of Magical Creatures, a subject I rather like. The sun spills through the window and its heat is like a drug. My eyelids sink and my neck jerks as I try to keep my head from making the book a pillow. I'm lulled into a deep sleep.

What is that sound?

Ugh, really now! Is that snoring? Honestly some people have no business being here.

Oh. No surprise there. It's Parkinson snoring away in the library. How repulsive I think she's drooling on that book! Enough!

"Hey! Wake up Parkinson! The library isn't for sleeping it's for reading in case you weren't aware."

Where am I? I open my eyes and pull my head up to see Granger standing over me, hands on her hips. After I'm upright, she rolls her eyes and strolls off, satisfied that I am no longer her problem. It dawns on me that the dream I had before I awoke was not a dream at all but Granger's thoughts. This is getting bad. I can't even sleep near people now?

The sun and its warmth have disappeared. How long was I asleep? I have a session with Dominicus tonight. I look over at the wall clock and see it's a good half hour into our scheduled time already. I'm going to catch hell for this tomorrow.

But really what does it matter? It's not as though he is helping very much. I'm obviously getting worse. In a state of increasing agitation I shove my book across the table and it flops noisily to the floor. This life no longer feels as though it belongs to me. Held captive by this school and now my own body. I'm on the brink of crying and I couldn't care less who sees. With how much hate people have for me what's one more public disgrace? Add it to my bill then get in line with all the others waiting to collect.

And now the tears are rolling down my cheeks. I'm sniffling like a petulant toddler who didn't get its way. The absurdity of it all crashes down on me and I end up laughing. I must be quite the sight right now. A complete nutter.

I'm suddenly aware I indeed do have an audience. Hermione Granger is back to set things right yet again. It's obvious from her raised eyebrows and slack jaw that she wasn't expecting to see me like this. We both say nothing. She bends gracefully at the knees to pick up the book from the floor but never takes her eyes off mine. Maybe she's afraid I've really gone off my rocker. I want to know what she's thinking.

Without pause I'm hurtling out of my own head and into hers.

There is a bright flash of light. The sun blinds me for a moment as my eyes adjust. I'm in Granger's skin as she walks along a Hogwarts courtyard. Suddenly she's falling and the books she was carrying go scattering across the earth. She pushes herself up carefully and brushes pieces of dirt and grass off her robes. Then I hear it. Obnoxious laughter at her back—my own. She turns around to face a younger version of myself.

This must have taken place first year judging by how young I look. My younger self is wearing a smug expression and giggling proudly. "Have a little accident there Granger? Oh no did your wittle books get hurt?" She shouts this loudly to be sure passers by hear it. Then she swivels to her friends and says, "Those books are her only friends you see. We have to be careful not to damage them or wittle Gwanger will be aww awone." Wow. Was I really that annoying? More laughter echoes in my head as I enter a new memory.

Granger is in her dorm room alone. She has a book opened in her lap and is flipping through pages. The words begin to blur as tears form in her eyes. Surprisingly, I feel rather uncomfortable witnessing this and decide not to intrude. I make my way back to myself. Her world melts into darkness.

When I come back to myself I am still seated but my eyes are no longer on Granger. I look around for her and see she's sat down at the table just across from me. She seems to be reading her book but occasionally throws a covert peek my way. Should I? No I shouldn't but I will anyway. Back into the wittle Gryffindor brain I go!

What in the world is wrong with her? I've never seen her act so queer. I should keep an eye on her just in case it's some kind of hex or something. Wouldn't be surprising. She won't be winning any popularity contests this year that's for sure. I almost feel bad for her. How ironic is that? I feel pity because of how alone she must feel. Should I ask her what's wrong? No, I doubt she would spill her guts to a low muggleborn like me. Should just get back to work really. Even if she needed help she certainly wouldn't want it from me.

I stop listening to her thoughts because it's too painful. There's a war being waged in my heart but I'm not sure which side I'm on. Part of me yearns to talk to her, to spill my guts, to listen to her advice, and to hear her comforting words. The other half of me loathes her on principle and even more so hearing that she pities me. I feel sick with all the emotion. I have to get out of here. As I rush out of my seat black splotches cloud my vision and my legs give out from under me. The library floor slams into my face. All goes black.

I'm awoken by loud screaming and bolt upright in bed. Apparently they brought me to the hospital wing when I passed out in the library. A third year boy obviously broke something in a tumble off his broom and is now wailing a couple beds over. After a mandatory lecture on nutrition and hydration Madam Pomfrey allows me to leave. I head to my dorm room for the night.

I can't keep my mind off that damned mudblood! The lack of control is so foreign to me considering it was my mental strength that kept my ability hidden all this time. After breaking into the art of legilimency at a young age I learned quickly that not only was this gift highly coveted, but it was also often banned. The second I developed the skill to penetrate minds without disturbing the owner I kept my legilimency secret, even and especially from my own family. They are the most conniving lot you ever hope to meet! I certainly wasn't going to give up my edge to them. It was only toward the end of last year, when my skills came unhinged that I revealed myself to anyone. Professor McGonagall, now Headmaster, was someone I trusted not to tell my secret and who would help. As far as I'm aware she delivered on keeping stumm but only time will tell whether she's helped.

In the mean time I do enjoy using legilimency on unsuspecting victims (an act explicitly forbidden by McGonagall) such as Granger. Today I've really hit the jackpot! I happened to see Granger and Weaslett walking hand-in-hand down towards the Shrieking Shack and followed at a far distance. They found a secluded spot for the purposes of snogging. I knew I was bordering on voyeuristic but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

I'm in Granger's mind now. I roam through it until I locate her current thoughts, an easy task since I've been here before. She's kissing the git's unfortunately large, watery mouth. Ugh! He's really not very good at this.

Mm...ehh—I wish he'd stop trying that trick it's really not a turn on. Okay...mauling my boob again—kind of hurts. Oww! Should I tell him that isn't sexy? No. No his ego is much too fragile I guess I just need to take control like always.

Ha ha! Oh what a kick! Now she's grabbing his big white paws and moving them from her breasts and placing them on her hips. He doesn't seem to notice but keeps gnawing at her face like ravenous badger. Her mind starts to wander…

I wonder if we finish up here in ten if I can get in a quick read in the library? Need a breath—uh ahh there that's better. If Parkinson's there I have to get a seat near her. She has been so bizarre lately, not at all her usual self. Even her appearance has changed. She always used to have that ridiculous short bob but now her hair is longer, wilder, in kind of a just fucked way it looks good. What am I saying this is Parkinson we're talking about! And oh...no, no, no this will not do—

"No Ron we can't." Hermione pleads.

"Aww c'mon babe I—," he mumbles incoherently against her mouth, "I really love you. And you are so beautiful…"

"I love you too but—okay no Ron put it away! Not here for Merlin's sake!"

Ah ha! This is too much fun I have to leave before I start laughing so hard they hear! Her world fades out of my vision and light dilates the pupils of my own eyes. With my hand covering my snickering mouth I creep away. Without realizing it I'm heading toward the library and a guilty hope that she will meet me there in ten lingers in my mind.

I'm not disappointed. She strides into the library, head held high even if her hair is slightly mussed, and scans the room for me. When her eyes meet mine I make no attempt to hide my blatant staring. I nod my head and gesture for her to take a seat in the booth across from me. Her expression is priceless: a mixture of surprise, suspicion, and possibly excitement. She makes furtive glances about the library to see who might be watching and then walks over to take a seat with me.

"Well, this is unexpected," she says with her normal tone of disdain. "What is it you want?"

"No need to be so rude," I respond playfully. I feel like a cat toying with a mouse and I like it. "I just thought we might have a chat about what occurred yesterday. You see I had low blood sugar is all and that's why I fainted. Madam Pomfrey told me you were the one who got help for me so I want to thank you for that." I watched her brows lift slightly as her defenses came down.

"I, uh, well yes I did and you're welcome. But...look I know it's none of my business but the look on your face before you fainted told me there was something more going on than low blood sugar. And before you deny it I just want you to know that if you feel like talking about it, I'm willing to listen. I mean…" She paused for a moment and looked at me warily. Her eyes were glistening with feeling but I couldn't tell what the emotion was. Normally I wouldn't hesitate to enter her head but I had to stay present in this moment or she would become suspicious.

"Yes? Go ahead." I encouraged softly.

"I will be blunt. We don't like each other. Never have. That's not news. But I can see how much trouble you have been getting this year. I can see you're sad. I know how that feels. Call me a softy or an idiot or whatever but I've never liked seeing anyone abused. Even you. So if you want to talk about things or anything don't be afraid to ask me. You don't have to worry about me hexing you."

"Really? I'm surprised you would offer that after what I did to Potter." I answered her polite offer without hostility or gratitude. This really wasn't the direction I had expected her to take and I didn't know yet what I wanted from her.

"Yes. Well that really was a shit thing you did but the war is over. We won. And if we ever want to move on we have to forgive those kinds of things. If you want forgiveness that is." She looked up from behind her dark lashes and waited for a response. Damn, I was hoping it was a rhetorical question.

"I, I'll be honest with you I'm not really sure what I want right now. Can I have some time to think about it?" Woah, that was not the direction I was expecting myself to take either! I just asked Granger's permission for something? What...the...hell.

"Yeah. Yes absolutely take your time." Granger's face lit up with hope. She must think she is saving a soul or something. With a sigh and a shrug that signaled the end of our conversation she got up and walked away. Before she got further than three feet I was back inside her head.

Wow that went better than I thought it would. She might actually talk to me. Or maybe this is some sort of twisted way of setting me up? Hmmm, I will have to tread carefully with her. I can't let my guard down. Well let's get back to work shall we? Now I was on volume three chapter nine…

I'm growing bored with her thoughts but don't want to leave yet. The vivid memory of being one with her senses comes back to me in a flash. Again I become her body's passenger.

She is seated comfortably in her booth as her fingertips flip the page. Her right hand is holding her head up as she reads and her tongue brushes back and forth against the roof of her mouth. I feel the gentle rub of her breast against her blouse as she breathes. Lust fogs my thoughts and now I'm imagining what it would feel like if she decided to put her left hand through her collar and beneath her bra. Her soft fingertips moving over her nipple. And now I'm imagining—

I wrench myself from her mind with fervent speed and the force throws my head backwards against the stack of books behind me. It all happened so fast! I realized with horror that while I was in her mind my imaginings mutated into mind control and she was actually putting her own hand through her shirt to touch her breast!

My head hurts and I reach back to touch the soon-to-be bump. I look over at Granger from the corner of my eye and see her yank her hand out of her shirt. Her mouth is open, eyes wide, cheeks bright red with humiliation as she looks about the library wildly. Shit! Shit! There is hardly anyone else here but me! She's bound to figure out I was the one controlling her mind! Just when I thought this nightmare of a life could not get any worse!