Hermione
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Hermione crushed her beetles without looking at them, too busy thinking about Skeeter's strategies. How was she supposed to know all the secrets of Hogwarts if she was banished from the place? She had probably heard Krum confess his feelings on the Second Task platform, but Hermione had no recollection of seeing her there.
"There is something funny though..." she finally said aloud for Harry and Ron to hear. "How could Rita Skeeter have known...?"
"Know what?" asked Ron, "You didn't make a love potion, did you?"
"Don't be stupid." Hermione snapped. "No, it's just... how did she know that Viktor had invited me to visit him this summer?"
As she heard the sound of Ron's pestle hitting his bowl, she realised that he was certainly going to take this news badly. She felt herself blushing.
"What?" he shouted.
"He offered right after he pulled me out of the Lake." Hermione muttered, determined not to look at Ron as she told him. "When he got rid of his shark head, Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and there he pulled me aside and said that if I didn't do anything special next summer, would I like to..."
"And what did you say?"
Hermione should have known that Ron would be more interested in her conversation with Krum than Rita Skeeter. She gathered her thoughts:
"And he did say that he'd never felt the same way about anyone else..." she said in a whisper, trying to remember. "But how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there . . or was she? Maybe she has an invisibility cloak, maybe she snuck onto the grounds to watch the Second Task. . . ."
How would anyone know if Skeeter had an invisibility cloak? Would Dumbledore have noticed her? And there were a lot of people on the platform, she wouldn't have been able to sneak in so easily because of all the people... Maybe she could ask Moody if he hadn't spotted her with his eye...
"And what did you say?" insisted Ron, and Hermione suddenly came back down to earth.
"Oh, I was way too busy trying to see if you and Harry were okay..."
A guttural voice came from behind her and Hermione's sentence was abruptly interrupted:
"I have no doubt that your personal life is absolutely fascinating, Miss Granger," Snape said, "but I must ask you not to discuss it in class. Ten points from Gryffindor."
Hermione felt her blush deepen. Everyone in the class had fallen silent. Turning her head, Hermione saw that Draco was watching too, but he wasn't smiling wickedly like he usually did. In fact, he looked a little panicked.
"Ah... reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape added as he picked up the copy of Witch Weekly from the chair, much to Hermione's dismay. "Another ten points from Gryffindor... Oh, but of course... I understand... Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings..."
Snape laughed bitterly and Harry shriveled against the stool, his head bowed. In a slow, theatrical voice, Snape proceeded to read the entire article, to the scathing laughter of the Slytherins who were taking great pleasure in mocking Harry and Hermione. Hermione was trying hard not to cry with shame.
". . . Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate." How very touching." sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine. "Well, I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Potter, that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."
Hermione would have preferred to sit anywhere rather than next to Pansy Parkinson. She hiccupped in choked surprise and looked sideways at the Slytherin's desk. Usually Parkinson sat next to Blaise Zabini, to Draco's right. But this time, Zabini had gone with Daphne Greengrass and she was alone, working on her potion. When Snape mentioned her name, Parkinson rolled her eyes in annoyance.
Hermione wanted to protest, but when she met Snape's dark, heatless eyes, she was forced to do so. She picked up her notebook and quill and reluctantly sat down next to Pansy Parkinson.
The latter paid no attention to her. Hermione could have been a piece of dirt on the bottom of her shoe and Parkinson would have had the same reaction when she approached. She didn't even look at her. Hermione picked up where she had left off.
After about ten minutes of silent preparation, Hermione looked up. Harry was standing in front of Snape and they were talking in a low voice. Snape was looking at Harry with a hateful smile and Harry looked like he was about to explode with rage. Draco, who was standing next to his desk, looked up from time to time, but never focused on Hermione and Parkinson.
Hermione poured the beetle powder into the cauldron and waited for the potion to boil before adding pieces of valerian stems, turning the mixture clockwise twelve times and then pulling a dozen beetle eyes out of a jar.
She glanced at her neighbour. Parkinson was weighing the amount of Amyris water to be added to the potion with precise, calculated movements.
Harry had once told Hermione that he thought Parkinson was horrible. Hermione disagreed. Much as she hated to admit it, Hermione actually thought she was very pretty. Parkinson had a kind of cold beauty, with chiseled features that stood out against her pale skin. Her eyes were black, as was her hair, which was always perfectly combed. And she always took care of her appearance, something Hermione didn't do at all. Parkinson had a rather captivating aura, she was mysterious, and seemed to have a lot of self-confidence, and Hermione was a little jealous of her for that.
That day, as she often did, Parkinson wore black lipstick to match the colour of her hair. Every now and then, she moistened her lips a little with her tongue, concentrating. Hermione understood why so many people thought she and Draco were dating, because they had a bit of the same enigmatic energy.
Suddenly, Pansy turned her head towards her and Hermione pretended to have been watching the cauldron the whole time. She returned to her selection of beetle eyes when Parkinson spoke for the first time in class:
"Should we add the Amyris water before or after the beetle eyes?"
Hermione was so surprised she didn't answer right away. It was the first time Pansy Parkinson had spoken to her so directly without being mean. She turned to her and stammered:
"Er, after."
"All right. I'll wait then."
Her voice was melodious, unlike Hermione's, which was always on the high notes. Hearing them 'talking', Draco turned to them with a raised eyebrow. Pansy saw him and sighed loudly enough for him to hear:
"Don't worry Draco, I'm not going to eat her!" she said with an irritated breath.
Hermione didn't say anything, as if she wasn't supposed to see this scene. She felt like she was being left out of a secret and she didn't like it at all. She dropped the beetle eyes into the cauldron one by one and watched as Pansy poured out the water she had just measured. Hermione read the rest of the recipe and saw that they still had to add a rat's tail, some dandelion seeds and wait for the potion to turn slightly milky before returning it.
Pansy wrinkled her nose in disgust at the next ingredient.
"No way am I touching that stuff." she said, pointing at the rat tails on the table. "You do it."
Hermione rolled her eyes, but did it anyway. She wanted to get a good grade and fighting with the Slytherin wasn't going to help. As she put it in the cauldron, she wondered how Parkinson would have done if she hadn't been there.
Parkinson shelled the dandelions to extract the seeds, a meticulous job that she did surprisingly well. Hermione watched her do it, having no other task to perform.
"He can't stop looking at you." Parkinson commented after a few minutes.
Hermione looked up to check that she was talking to her. She was still looking at her seeds, so concentrated that Hermione even wondered if she wasn't dreaming. But when Hermione didn't answer, Parkinson shook her head and pointed at Draco. Indeed, he had been watching her discreetly, and stopped the moment she turned to him.
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.
Pansy rolled her eyes with a deep sigh.
"You're as stupid as he is if you can't see it. Aren't you supposed to be the brightest witch of your generation, or something?"
It was meant as a compliment, but from Parkinson's mouth, it sounded like an insult. Hermione felt the blush creep up her neck,again.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Draco is my best friend, Granger." Pansy said, so low that Hermione had to lean in to hear what she was saying. "I know him better than anyone."
Hermione frowned, not sure why she was talking to her about this. Parkinson had never spoken to her outside of his group of mocking girls who always made fun of her hair.
"I know you both spend time in the Library." Parkinson continued quietly, still picking at the dandelion seeds.
The sentence took Hermione's breath away. When Parkinson heard no reply, she looked up at her and sneered wickedly when she saw her stunned face:
"What? Did you really think we wouldn't notice? Every night in the Library, when he'd never set foot there before. It didn't take me long to work out who he was meeting there."
"I still don't see how that's possible." Hermione admitted sincerely.
"Merlin, Granger, how can such a studious girl be so stupid?" asked Pansy with an exasperated sigh. "I really don't understand what Draco sees in you."
Parkinson finished sorting the dandelion seeds and poured them into the potion, which turned a greenish colour. Hermione stirred it slowly, her head full of questions. After a moment, Parkinson's pale face came to life with a wicked grin:
"From your reaction, it looked like it was a secret on your side too. I guess he shouldn't find out, am I right?"
She pointed at Ron, a little further away. He was concentrating on his potion, which had a pink tint to it. Hermione's heart pulsed a little too hard against her ribcage. If Ron found out, it would probably be the end of their friendship. He hated Draco far too much to forgive her for seeing him in secret. Besides, given his jealousy of Viktor...
Hermione had no doubt that Parkinson was capable of revealing her secret to make her suffer. She was a Slytherin, after all, and she certainly wouldn't mind breaking their friendship to save her own. Hermione turned back to her, ready to beg her not to tell Ron, but was interrupted by a bitter laugh:
"Relax, Granger. I won't tell him anything."
"Oh. Thank you." she replied with a sigh of relief.
"Don't think I'm doing this for you. I don't like you." Parkinson said neutrally.
Hermione gave a small laugh.
"Believe me, I've noticed."
"Stop playing the victim Granger. I'm just playing by the rules." Parkinson muttered, his eyes glittering with malice. "I've always said I don't like you. I don't know when that changed for Draco, but I always will. But I don't hate you. It's a role. I'm obliged to act this way because I value my reputation."
"That didn't sound like a role before." Hermione said, pointing at the magazine.
Parkinson shrugged and looked away from Hermione to the potion, which was getting paler by the minute.
"You don't have to believe me. But you should know one thing, Granger. I can be really mean. But I protect my people. Everything I do is to protect Draco. I don't want anything bad to happen to him. And if I have to make a choice, I'll always choose him. Is that clear?"
"I'm sorry, but I don't quite understand why I should know that."
Parkinson laughed another cold, bitter, fake laugh. Hermione realised how much she and Draco were alike sometimes. She wondered if Parkinson was entitled to the kind Draco of the Library. Her nice Draco.
"Because it's your fault, Granger." she replied simply.
Hermione wanted to ask more, but Snape announced the end of the class at that moment. Parkinson jumped off the stool as soon as the students were allowed to leave and joined Blaise Zabini, who threw an arm over her shoulder as he left the classroom. Hermione filled a vial with the potion, placed it on the desk and joined Harry and Ron.
She had expected Snape to take one last stab at Harry, but he was talking to Karkaroff. Hermione hadn't even noticed the Headmaster of Durmstrang enter the classroom, too engrossed in her conversation with Parkinson. Once they were in the corridor, Harry began to tell them about the conversation he had overheard between Snape and Karkaroff, and he and Ron made all sorts of assumptions about why Karkaroff had shown him his forearm.
But Hermione couldn't concentrate. She looked around for Draco, but he was deep in conversation with Blaise Zabini and hadn't even noticed that Hermione was right behind him.
They went to dinner, and Hermione really tried to join in the conversation at the Gryffindor table. Fred and George were telling a funny story that had happened to them that morning, and Hermione tried to listen. But she spent the whole meal quietly watching the Slytherin table.
Draco was eating with his friends as usual. Theodore Nott was talking, Blaise Zabini was listening, Draco was laughing and Pansy Parkinson was in the arms of her boyfriend, Leo Hills. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Hermione ate her crumble thoughtfully. When they got back to the Common Room, Ron had to tell her twice what he'd just said before she understood. She watched Harry and Ron playing chess and petting Crookshanks, lost in thought.
It wasn't until she was alone in bed, protected by the curtains of her four-poster, that she allowed herself to wonder what Pansy Parkinson had meant by "I really don't understand what Draco sees in you."
.
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Draco
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Draco knew.
He knew that Snape knew.
They both knew, they had to. Snape had seen it, he had revealed his darkest, most intimate secret. Draco had tried to remain impassive for the rest of Potions class, but his hands had not stopped shaking. Luckily, Snape had decided to annoy Potter and he hadn't met his dark gaze for the rest of the day.
Still, it haunted him. At dinner, at the Slytherin party, even in bed, he was haunted by Snape's gaze. He had seen it. He had understood. His greatest fear had just come true.
He said nothing to his friends. No one but Pansy knew his secret anyway, and he didn't want to admit to her that Snape had seen him watching Granger, because that would prove her right that he wasn't discreet. So he pretended everything was fine, even though he was wracked with anxiety.
He avoided looking at Snape during dinner, and Granger as well. He ate practically nothing and lay in bed on an empty stomach, knowing full well that he would suffer from insomnia. Theo's Dreamless Sleep potion was still on his bedside table, but Draco didn't take it. Perhaps he wanted to punish himself by suffering the anguish that had been inside him since Potions class.
What would happen now? Would Snape tell his parents? Would he be expelled, sent to Durmstrang? Would he be condemned to study at a distant college, far from his friends and family, and forced to attend classes with Viktor Krum, the boy he hated most at the moment?
His head was spinning. He listened to Theo and Blaise's sleepy breathing and tried to calm himself. For the moment, he was here, in the warmth of his bed, in his familiar dormitory. He could smell the comforting scent of the dungeons and hear the sound of water licking the windows. But the fear of knowing that everything could change paralysed him so much that he couldn't enjoy it.
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A trip to Hogsmeade was planned for the next day. Draco refused to go, saying he had a headache. He was desperate to take a nap, as he hadn't slept well the night before. Theo didn't go either, not wanting to go out in the cold, even though it was March and the weather was better than last time. He did, however, ask Blaise for two boxes of dark chocolates.
So Blaise, Daphne and Pansy set off for Hogsmeade while Draco and Theo stayed at the Castle. Draco spent his Saturday lunch checking that Snape wasn't watching him, but Snape was completely oblivious to Draco's panic and was having a quiet chat with Professor Sinistra.
Granger had gone to Hogsmeade too, but Draco didn't want to go to the Library anyway. He was far too stressed. He imagined Snape bursting in and finding them both at the same table. Sometimes Snape's face, distorted with rage, would be replaced by his father's and Draco would have to take deep breaths to calm himself.
So he walked around the Lake after lunch to collect his thoughts, then decided to take a nap. He passed through the Slytherin Common Room, which was almost empty, and then entered the dormitory. Theo was sitting in his usual chair, his legs over the left armrest, his back to the right, and a box of Honeydukes dark chocolates beside him. He had to tear himself away from his reading to turn to Draco, his mouth stained with chocolate:
"I thought you were going to the Library?" he asked, helping himself to another piece of chocolate.
"And I thought you were." Draco replied as he sat down on his bed to take off his shoes.
"No." Theo said, showing him the book he was reading, which had a navy blue cover: a Muggle book.
Theo always avoided going to the Library when he read this kind of book, ever since a first year had asked him if he was Muggle-born when he saw the cover.
Draco nodded, took off his trousers and slipped under the covers. He didn't close the curtains so as not to seem rude to Theo.
"Are you going to take a nap?" asked Theo, returning to his book.
"Yeah, got a headache." Draco lied.
Theo said nothing, probably to let him sleep peacefully. Draco watched Theo from his bed. He was reading at an astonishing rate, turning the pages every thirty seconds. Lulled by the sound of rustling pages and the paper bags Theo was taking out of his chocolates, Draco drifted further and further into sleep.
He watched his best friend read through half-closed eyelids, something he had done hundreds of times before. But when he realised it might be the last time before he was expelled from Hogwarts, Draco's throat suddenly tightened. He had a sudden urge to cry.
As if he were psychic, Theo asked him gently:
"Are you all right, Draco?"
"Er, yeah, yeah."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Theo had his back to him, still reading his book. He'd always had the ability to understand Draco's feelings, even when he wasn't talking about them. Draco remembered his father's letter and the moment Theo had made him smell Amortentia.
"We'll still be mates, right?" asked Draco in a low voice. "Even if I... Like, if I fucked up big time or something. We'll still be friends. Right?"
He was aware that his request was pathetic, but Theo would never make fun of him. He turned calmly to Draco, his eyebrows slightly furrowed beneath his curly hair:
"What did you do?" asked Theo in surprise.
"Nothing important. I just want to know. Hypothetically." Draco replied feebly.
"Of course we'll always be mates, Draco." Theo promised as if it were obvious. "No amount of bullshit can stop me being friends with you, you know that."
Draco nodded. Theo gave him a small smile and went back to his book. After a few minutes of silence, he asked:
"Would you like me to tell you what my book is about?"
Draco agreed. He wanted a distraction, something to take his mind off his dark thoughts. Dobby had often done this when he was little, read him stories before bed. He had never told him, but Draco had loved it. Sometimes he even missed it a little.
Theo began to tell him about his book, which sounded rather dull. It was about a farmer's son who had to take over his father's business, but his real passion was music, so he secretly went to dingy restaurants to sing. One day a record producer spotted him and offered him a contract, but the farmer's son hesitated because he didn't want to disappoint his father. Draco fell asleep as Theo began to explain his theories about the end of the novel.
.
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.
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Draco took advantage of the Slytherin party on Saturday to drink as much as he could. When he was drunk, it was easier to fall asleep and he didn't dream. Or at least he didn't have any nightmares about his father coming to get him from Hogwarts, his eyes revolting with rage.
Theo, Blaise and Pansy could probably see that Draco wasn't feeling well, but they had the decency to ignore him for the moment. Around 4am, Draco passed out on the sofa and Blaise took him back to the dormitory without a second thought. But Draco was sure he was holding back.
Draco thought he was out of the woods. Maybe Snape hadn't noticed. Or maybe he had, but decided to pretend he hadn't. Draco wasn't sure he could handle the stress of the second option. He didn't really feel like drinking every night to forget his anxiety.
His mind was made up at breakfast on Sunday morning. When an owl landed in front of his plate, he expected to see Ebony, but it was an owl from school, a small one with black feathers. A piece of parchment hung from its legs.
Draco unhooked it and opened it out of sight. Theo and Blaise were both reading the paper, paying no attention to him. Pansy hadn't come to breakfast because she was avoiding Leo.
The note was short. As soon as he recognised his Potions Master's handwriting, Draco went pale.
"Dear Draco,
You are expected in my office this Sunday at 6pm.
Signed: Professor Snape."
Draco swallowed as he reread the note, but the few words Snape had written gave no clue whatsoever. Draco hastily folded the paper and drank his pumpkin juice as if everything was normal, as if his insides weren't clenching painfully.
The day passed unbearably slowly.
Draco tried not to look at Granger all day. What's more, as if Merlin himself had a personal grudge against her, she wore braids, a hairstyle Draco secretly adored. He went to the Library with Theo to do his Herbology essay, avoiding looking in the direction of the secluded table hidden by the bookshelves where he was sure Granger was reading.
For the rest of the afternoon, Draco wondered what Snape wanted from him. For the first time, Draco thought about his relationship with his Potions Master.
Snape had always favoured the Slytherins and publicly hated the Gryffindors, especially Potter, Granger, Weasley and Longbottom. He knew he was close to his parents, though without considering them friends. He had seen him several times at Pureblood dinners before Hogwarts, and Snape had always been perfectly cordial without being very demonstrative. And he had often told him that he had a talent for Potions, which Draco had always appreciated.
But since Snape had found out his secret, Draco had no idea what would happen to their 'bond'. He didn't know Snape well enough to know what was going on in his head, and that was driving him mad with worry.
By 5.30pm, Draco had exhausted all the possibilities of what Snape had in store for him during this summoning. He'd imagined every scenario: Lucius standing next to Snape when he opened the door, Granger being summoned as well, or even Snape challenging him to a duel (unlikely, but still possible).
Blaise and Theo took their seats in the usual chairs in the Common Room. Theo took out a book and Blaise sat chatting with Daphne, a big smile on his face. Draco envied them for being so relaxed. He could hear his own heart beating against his throat without even checking. He fidgeted with his hands as he waited for the fateful hour to arrive, watching his two best friends for the last time.
At 5.55, Draco got up. No one asked him where he was going. He left so often without saying a word that it had become a habit. In any case, he wouldn't have told anyone where he was going.
He walked out into the dungeon corridor and up to Snape's office. He stopped in front of it, forcing himself to control his breathing or risk having a panic attack before he even entered, then knocked and prayed to Merlin that Lucius wasn't in the office.
"Come in." Snape's voice called through the door.
Draco opened it and felt a deep sense of relief to see that Snape was alone. However, there was nothing welcoming about the dark expression on his professor's face. Draco said nothing and sat down in the only chair opposite the desk, avoiding looking him in the eye for fear of revealing his fears.
"Good evening Draco." Snape said in his deep, grave voice, which embedded itself in Draco like an echo.
"Good evening Professor." the blonde replied, trying not to let his voice shake.
"First of all, Draco, I'd like to reassure you." Snape announced. "No one knows about this meeting. I haven't told anyone."
Draco let out a small breath that was stuck in his lungs. He still avoided looking at his Head of House, preferring to stare at the dark wood of the desk.
"Draco. Look at me." Snape said, softer this time.
He complied. He met his teacher's gaze, trying not to show anything on his face. The silence stretched. Snape watched Draco without a word, then said in a whisper:
"Draco, I know how you feel. About Miss Granger."
Draco had had a whole speech prepared in his head since Friday, in case Snape actually understood. A prepared speech in which he would play the role of fake shocked, outraged that his teacher could think that of him, in which he would deny everything.
But the moment Snape spoke, the speech evaporated from his mind. There was no point in lying. Snape knew.
"Please, Professor..." Draco said, his voice cracking with nervousness. "Please don't tell anyone, if my parents find out... I... They'd disown me..."
In a flash, he imagined his mother's face, ashamed, unable to even look at him when she learned of his attraction to a Mudblood. A sob broke from the back of his throat and he had to fight back the tears with all his might.
"It's nothing..." Draco continued, stammering. "I promise you, I feel nothing for her, just curiosity, nothing more, if anyone were to find out... If my father found out..."
A tear fell, then two, then three. He couldn't believe he was crying in front of his Potions Master. He broke eye contact for the first time since Snape had asked him, and quickly wiped his cheeks.
"I won't tell anyone, Draco." Snape's breath was so deep that Draco thought he was hallucinating.
"What?"
"I won't tell anyone." Snape repeated. "Your secret will stay with me."
Draco's mouth dropped open in surprise. Of all the scenarios he'd imagined since that morning's letter, this had never crossed his mind. He'd never thought Snape could be so understanding. He sniffed and wiped the last of the tears from his eyes:
"Really? You won't tell my father?" asked Draco.
"Lucius is a man I respect very much, but there are matters on which I do not agree with him. Blood purity is one of them." Snape explained calmly. "I doubt your father would be indulgent if he heard... that information."
Draco nodded in agreement. "Indulgence" was an understatement, his father would be absolutely enraged if he found out that Draco was attracted to this girl.
"Does she know?" asked Snape.
It took Draco a moment to realise he was talking about Granger. He nodded 'no'. Snape took a deep breath and put his hands on the desk.
"Have you ever heard of Occlumancy, Draco?"
Draco nodded 'no' again. Snape suddenly rose from his desk and walked towards the fireplace, his black cloak twirling around him. He explained in a deep voice:
"Occlumancy is the art of knowing how to seal one's mind from outside intrusion by a Legilimens, someone with the ability to enter minds. It's a complex, obscure branch of magic that requires great mental strength and a certain gift that many people don't possess."
Draco took in his words without understanding.
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a Legilimens, perhaps the most powerful that has ever existed. Not only can he penetrate and read selected memories in people's minds, but he can also alter their thoughts at will."
Draco's head swung sharply in the direction of his teacher, who hadn't blinked as he said this and was still standing perfectly straight by the fireplace.
"You mean... the Dark Lord is able to enter people's minds to see what he wants?" asked Draco.
Panic immediately struck him. If the Dark Lord could read his mind, he could easily see Granger. She occupied all his thoughts.
"No! I don't want to!" Draco protested immediately. "How can I block my thoughts? How can I learn Occlumancy?"
Snape's dark eyes suddenly lit up with a gleam of satisfaction before fading back.
"I can help you, Draco." Snape replied. "I can help you strengthen your mind with Occlumancy. Your secret will be kept, along with any unwanted thoughts you wish to bury in your brain. If you work with Occlumancy, you will be protected."
Draco considered these words. He had never heard of this branch of magic, but it made him want to. He would no longer live in fear of revealing himself. He could protect himself from his father and even from the Dark Lord if need be. No one would know his true feelings.
"Do you know of any other Legilimens?" asked Draco after a few seconds of thought.
Snape raised an eyebrow at his question.
"Your father isn't one, if that's what you want to know." he replied. "Albus Dumbledore is a very great Legilimens, as was Salazar Slytherin. I claim to be as well, though my abilities in Occlumancy are much broader. And so is your mother."
Draco frowned.
"My mother?" he repeated.
"Yes. It is part of the Black family traditions, I believe, to teach and learn the arts of Legilimancy and Occlumancy. They are even said to have a gift that is passed down from generation to generation."
One memory in particular emerged from Draco's mind. It was from several years before he was at Hogwarts. It was a dinner at the Manor with his parents, who were arguing about his future education. Lucius didn't want him to go to Hogwarts and Narcissa didn't want him to go to Durmstrang. Draco remembered exactly the moment when Lucius had brandished his fork at Narcissa and shouted : "Stop Occluding and answer me, Merlin! I feel like I'm talking to a wall!"
When he hadn't spoken for several seconds, Snape walked around the fireplace to return to his desk opposite Draco.
"I can help you, Draco. I can teach you the art of Occlumancy, and if you work hard enough, if you put your mind to it, you may be able to counter the attacks of a Legilimens."
"And what do you want in return?"
Snape was a Slytherin, after all. Draco had learned never to make a deal without knowing all the conditions, and there were always conditions among Slytherins. Still, Snape seemed surprised by the request.
"I'm simply asking you to participate." he replied. "To do the exercises I ask of you. You will come one night a week, on Thursdays, after your lessons, to work with me. All you have to do is say you're taking Advanced Potions."
Draco nodded. He could do that. He was ahead in all his homework and he was intrigued by this rare branch of magic. If Snape saw potential in him, he wanted to take the chance.
"I have one last question." he said before accepting Snape's offer.
"I'm listening."
"Did you practice Legilimancy during Potions class on Friday? To find out how I felt about... About Granger?"
He was terrified of the answer. Terrified that Snape could have freely read his mind in the middle of a lesson. Fortunately, his teacher shook his head:
"No. You would have sensed it. And Legilimancy isn't about reading the thoughts that go through your mind when you enter it, it's more about finding a particular thought, feeling or even memory."
"So how did you know?" asked Draco.
Snape was slow to answer. Every time they spoke, Draco felt like he was playing a complicated game of chess. It was as if every sentence weighed heavily. So he waited for Snape to choose his next words carefully.
"I saw it in your eyes." he finally said.
Draco was briefly embarrassed. The fact that he could be read so easily made him uncomfortable. Snape added:
"Thanks to Occlumancy, you will be less easy to guess."
"Then I accept."
Snape had the shadow of a smile before closing completely. Draco wondered if it wasn't thanks to Occlumancy that Snape's face never betrayed his true feelings.
"Good. Then we'll start now and you'll come back every Thursday at 6pm sharp for an hour of practice. Stand up."
Draco stood up, rapping his thighs against the desk. He hadn't noticed that his legs were shaking.
"Stand in front of me." Snape said, standing next to the desk.
He obeyed and stood six feet away from his teacher. He had expected Snape to explain the subject in more detail, so he was surprised to see him pull out his wand. Maybe he wasn't wrong about the duel after all.
"Close your eyes and concentrate." Snape ordered in a low voice. Draco did as he was told. "Clear your mind. Think of nothing."
Draco tried, but soon realised that it was difficult to think of nothing. He was still stressed by the fact that Snape knew. Every time he tried to clear his mind, a random image would pop up. Suddenly, as he thought of Pansy for no reason, Snape said:
"Legilimens!"
Draco felt a pain in his head, as if a burning liquid was being poured into his brain. Then, suddenly, his vision shook and his mind revealed images. He saw Theo, sitting in his favourite armchair, a book in his hands and a frown of concentration on his face. He saw Blaise, laughing as he looped his broom in his garden. He saw Pansy, applying black lipstick in front of her mirror. She turned to him and smiled, waving her hand in front of his eyes.
The image faded and Draco jumped as Snape retreated from his foggy mind.
"You have some resistance." Snape realised as he lowered his wand.
"You've seen my memories?" asked Draco, stunned.
"Yes. I didn't try to choose them, I just let your mind show me what it wanted." explained Snape. "If I'd been looking for a particular memory, image or thought, I'd have had to dig more or less deeply into the layers of your mind to retrieve it."
Draco mechanically massaged his temple. He had the feeling his brain was overheating. However, he did not lose heart and closed his eyes again, prepared for the intrusion this time.
"Very well..." Snape's voice floated around him. "Think of nothing. Empty yourself of all emotion."
Draco inhaled, trying to relax. When he heard Snape say the spell, he didn't move.
He felt the warmth spread through his head. Then image after image: the front of the Castle at night. Dobby burning his ears after cleaning a plate badly. Daphne Greengrass and her sister walking side by side in the park at Hogwarts.
He let the images scroll by, remaining calm. After a while they took longer to appear. He continued to inhale and exhale slowly.
Snape's intrusion then went deeper, like a needle piercing the layers of his brain one by one. Draco couldn't push him away or stop him from delving into the more private images: Pansy smoking next to the Herbology greenhouse, her head tilted back. Him crying in a ball in bed after his father had shouted at him. Granger on the platform at the station, with the Weasley family, and him walking away, feeling a deep sadness at not seeing her for two summer months...
Suddenly, the vision of Draco returned and he swayed slightly. Snape looked at him with a mixture of astonishment and admiration.
"You managed to push me away. Did you want to?"
"No, I don't think so." Draco stammered, leaning on the edge of the desk to keep his balance. "I didn't want you to go any further."
"I pushed a little when I saw your ability to stay calm. Next Thursday, you'll try to push me away, and once you've done that, I'll teach you how to bury the memories you want to keep, to put them in a more distant and harder to access part of your mind."
"All right." Draco said, slightly out of breath.
"But it's a very good start. I've rarely seen such mental strength in someone so young." Snape said. "Until the next lesson, try to clear your mind from time to time, and meditate before you go to sleep."
"I have to meditate?" asked Draco, surprised at such a request. It sounded like an assignment from Pansy's Divination teacher.
"Yes." confirmed Snape, who sat back behind his desk. "I'll see you on Thursday at 6pm. You can go to dinner."
Snape began to pull out a pile of parchment and gestured with his hand to dismiss Draco. Draco thanked his teacher and left the room. He returned to the Common Room, trembling slightly. He knew he'd missed dinner, but he didn't feel like eating anyway. Professor Snape's mental intrusion had made him feverish.
When he entered the Common Room, he was surprised to find that the party he had expected was nothing like he had imagined. The students were all sitting on the floor or on the sofas, and none of them were dancing. They were all facing the centre of the room, where Pansy was standing, her black lipstick a little faded and her tights torn. She was shouting at someone, and it was only when Draco entered the room fully that he realised it was Leo.
"I'll smoke if I want to! I'll drink if I want to!" Pansy shouted. "You're not the one telling me what to do! If I wanted to be with someone who blamed me for so many things, I'd date my father!"
"I'm not asking you to stop, I'm just asking you to control it a bit!" Leo shouted back. "You spend all day smoking cigarettes and all night drinking!
"They've been arguing like this for ten minutes." Theo explained after pushing his way through the crowd to stand next to Draco. "It started when Leo took her cup from her hand."
Draco raised his eyebrows. Pansy was really very upset, she was even stamping her foot in displeasure. She had been saying for a few days that she couldn't stand Leo anymore, so Draco had expected a fight to break out between them. He hadn't expected it to happen in the middle of the Common Room.
"I didn't get together with you so you could tell me what to do!" shouted Pansy, pointing an accusing finger at Leo's chest.
"I'm not telling you what to do!" he replied just as angrily. "I'm just trying to help you! You just can't stand it when anyone gives you advice or reaches out to you, you reject everything! I think you've got some serious problems, Pansy!"
Hearing this, Pansy's features contorted with rage and she lunged at Leo, shaking her fists. Luckily, Blaise rushed up just before her and held her back by wrapping his arms around her.
"Shut up! Shut up!" shouted Pansy as she struggled unsuccessfully against Blaise's grip. "It's over between us! I'm leaving you!"
"Good! I didn't want to be with a junkie anyway!" shouted Leo, which earned several muffled exclamations from the other Slytherins.
This time, Blaise loosened his grip and threw Pansy into Daphne's arms to stand in front of Leo. He towered over him, so much so that the scene was almost comical.
"Say that again?" Blaise threatened, placing his fingertip on Leo's chest to make him back off. "Say what you just said again?"
"I said your friend was a junkie and an alcoholic on top of that!" said Leo, trying to push Blaise away.
"Wow..." commented Theo. "Blaise isn't going to..."
He didn't get to finish his sentence, because it was interrupted by the monumental punch Blaise threw at Leo's jaw. The blow was so brutal that the accompanying noise echoed off the stone walls. The Common Room erupted in an audible "oh!"
Leo was thrown backwards and hit the edge of the sofa. He got to his feet and Draco winced as he saw that his jaw was dislocated. It made his face look hideous. He had the intelligence not to return the blow.
Blaise was calm on the outside, though Draco could easily feel the anger radiating from his body. He was ready to fight, his legs slightly apart to parry the blows, as he had taught him years before. His eyes were black and seething with rage.
Leo finally gave in. He glared at Blaise, then at Pansy behind him, and took refuge in his dormitory holding his mouth.
Everyone went about their business. Pansy and Blaise ended up on the sofa behind them, the one they always occupied. When Draco and Theo arrived in turn, Blaise was massaging his knuckles with a scowl.
"Are you all right?" Theo asked worriedly as he sat down in his chair.
"That guy deserves another one." Blaise muttered.
Blaise had always made a point of respecting good manners. And to insult a woman was, for him, an outrage that could never be surpassed. Looking at him, Draco guessed that he was wondering if he shouldn't find Leo in his dormitory and give him a second slap.
"And you, Pansy, how are you?" asked Draco.
Pansy shake her head. She'd already lit a cigarette and took a long drag before answering:
"I've been waiting for this for days. I couldn't bear him any longer."
She flicked back a lock of black hair with her finger and took another drag. She was perfectly calm, nothing to suggest that she had been shouting at someone a few seconds earlier.
It was then that Draco realised that the argument had not been an accident: Pansy had simply been waiting for the moment when she could dump Leo so that the whole Castle would know. He'd always been a distraction, a way to make people forget that she had a crush on Draco. Now that everyone had forgotten, she was free to leave Leo, and that would be all anyone would talk about for a few days.
He thought it was a brilliant plan. In fact, he could already see second year girls in the corner, whispering and pointing at her.
"Good, because I couldn't stand him either." Theo admitted with a smile.
"Me neither." Blaise said more dryly.
"Me neither." Draco admitted.
Pansy shrugged and smiled:
"All the better then. Let's drink to that."
She served five shot glasses and they all toasted together, chanting "To the end of Leo Hills!" and then drank the sherry in one gulp. Theo coughed, but drank the whole glass. When Blaise took another drink, probably to wash down the anger, Draco did the same.
After about twenty minutes, Theo went to bed. Pansy, Blaise, Draco and Daphne were sitting around the coffee table talking. Draco was still feeling woozy from the Occlumancy, but the alcohol seemed to help. He had a few shots with Pansy, who took advantage of her 'break-up' to get as drunk as she could. She told him all the latest gossip, and they smoked a cigarette together.
By the end of the evening, Draco felt much better. Probably because Pansy had behaved as usual, and he hadn't felt the strange tension that had built up between them since the beginning of the year. He went to bed first, this time with a real headache.
He opened the dormitory door, expecting to find Theo's curtains drawn and the room plunged into darkness. But it wasn't: everything was still on, and Theo was sitting up in bed. Just as Draco entered and was about to ask Theo why he wasn't asleep, he heard a strange sound, like a strangled sigh.
Turning to Theo, he realised that he was crying.
He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, with a book between his legs. He was crying his eyes out. When he saw Draco come in, he didn't even wipe his cheeks.
"Oh. Hi." he said hoarsely.
Draco froze, his hand still on the doorknob. Draco wasn't very good at talking about his feelings, let alone anyone else's. He never knew what to say to comfort people. And seeing Theo crying took him completely by surprise.
"Er... are you all right?" he asked, even though the answer was obvious.
"Yeah, yeah. It's my book." he replied.
Theo wiped his nose with the sleeve of his pyjamas. When he cried, he looked like first-year Theo. Draco had never noticed how much his features had changed as he grew up. Seeing him cry like that, he was struck by the difference. He looked like the same withdrawn little boy Draco had met, four years earlier.
"Your book?" repeated Draco.
He recognised the cover; it was the book about the farmer's son that Theo had told him about last Saturday. He was almost at the end of it now. Draco couldn't understand how it was possible to cry while reading pages. Especially pages from a Muggle book.
"Yes. It's a shame, isn't it?" said Theo with a laugh that sounded false and hollow. "Crying over a book."
He had a second laugh, mixed with a sob, and lowered his head. Draco wanted to reply that it was, but didn't. The words caught in his throat.
Theo had always been more sensitive than the others and he had never really been ashamed to cry. Draco had always run away, though. It made him uncomfortable. In the end, maybe he was a little jealous. Of the fact that Theo could be confident enough to cry when he needed to. Draco always held back, not wanting to appear weak, not wanting to disappoint his father, even though he was hundreds of miles away.
"Do you want me to go and get Blaise for you?" offered Draco, who was still motionless.
Blaise would know what to do. He always had the right words.
"No, I'm fine." Theo said, sniffing one last time.
There was silence and Draco thought back to last Saturday. When Theo had managed to comfort him without him even knowing what was wrong. So Draco let go of the door handle and entered the room, instead of fleeing as he would have done before.
Theo looked surprised, but said nothing. Draco sat down on his bed to take off his shoes, opposite Theo's bed.
"Are you crying because of the farmer's son's choice?" he asked, trying to make conversation. "Didn't he choose music?"
"Yes, he did. That's exactly what he chose. He's going to musical theatre school." Theo said.
"Then why are you sad? Isn't that what you wanted?"
"It's because of the father." Theo said, avoiding to look in the direction of Draco's bed.
"Oh." said Draco, trying to imagine what could have happened to make Theo cry. "He hit him, didn't he? He doesn't want him to go?"
"No, on the contrary." Theo said with another small sob. "He told him he understood. And that he loved him. And that's the most important thing. That no matter what he decides to do, he'll always love him."
Theo lifted his tear-filled eyes. Draco didn't know what to say. He hadn't expected this, and he certainly hadn't expected Theo's words to cause him pain. His own father had never said this to him. He had never told him that he loved him enough to support him, whatever the cost. And he knew Theo's father hadn't either.
He didn't think Muggles could be so good at putting words to a lack he felt.
He swallowed and tried not to look shaken. It was Theo who needed help, not the other way round. He wanted to comfort him, as he so often did. But he couldn't answer quickly enough before Theo raised his hands and spoke a little too loudly:
"Anyway, it was stupid. I'm sorry I bothered you. It must be tiredness. This book is really stupid, isn't it? I think I'll put it down. See you tomorrow, Draco!"
Draco nodded and mumbled a "good night" before Theo closed the curtains, leaving the room in complete silence.
But when Draco had finished washing up, he noticed that Theo had taken the book with him to bed after all.
.
.
Hermione
.
.
On Tuesday morning, Hermione woke up in a very bad mood.
The day before she had argued with Ron about the mistreated house elves at Hogwarts. It had started with a simple visit to the kitchens to give Dobby a present, where they had met Winky, the house elf from Crouch. She was a mess. She kept drinking Butterbeer and crying. Hermione couldn't understand how elves could be sad about being released. Maybe she should do some research on Muggle Stockholm Syndrome.
She and Ron had gone on and on about the disastrous state of the house elves. And as usual, Ron hadn't wanted to look any further than the tip of his nose. The tip of his nose being the food prepared by the elves, which was likely to be much less good now that Hermione had caused a "scandal" in the kitchens.
On top of that, Draco hadn't been to their table in the Library since last Friday. He had come the day before, but he had sat down with Theodore Nott to work with him. Hermione didn't know what to make of that. He knew she was sitting at their table, but he had deliberately chosen not to come. Yet he didn't seem upset.
She had gone to their bench that evening, but he hadn't come. And Hermione was angry with herself for being so upset about it.
So she was in a bad mood as she got up, got dressed and tried to brush her unruly hair. She thought back to what Ron had said two days before, "Couldn't you have kept your mouth shut, Hermione? They won't want us to visit them now!" and she wanted to scream in protest. He was so unfair. Even Draco, who'd lived with elves all his life, wasn't so slanderous.
At breakfast, she chose to ignore Ron. He seemed much happier than she was, despite their argument, and she didn't want to embarrass Harry by bringing it up again. So, she preferred to read her book with one eye and eat her fried eggs with the other.
When the owls arrived, Hermione was surprised to see one of them land in front of her. But it wasn't the one from the Daily Prophet, nor was it the one her parents used to send letters with. She reached for the parchment on its paw, but one, two, three and four more owls landed in front of her in more or less controlled landings.
"Er, Hermione? Exactly how many Prophets subscriptions have you taken out?" asked Harry over the five owls chirping between them.
"What's all this?" asked Hermione as she took the letter from the first owl.
She opened it and her eyes widened as she read the one sentence that was written. The person had cut out letters from the newspaper to avoid being recognised:
"You aRe a wIcKEd gIrL. HaRRy PottEr deSerVEs BeTteR tHaN yOu. gO baCK wHeRe yoU CAmE fROm MuGgLe."
Hermione handed the letter to the boys, who were as surprised as she was. As more owls landed, Hermione unhooked the letters as she went, stuttering in incomprehension as she read them one by one:
"Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you...", "You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn...", "You are playing with the heart of the most..."
Hermione didn't have time to finish reading the last one before a sticky green juice suddenly poured from the paper onto her fingers. She felt a sharp pain shoot through her hand and yelped in pain as she dropped the letter.
"Bubotuber pus!" Ron said with a grimace. "And undiluted too!"
"Ouch!"
Hermione looked down at her hands: her fingers had tripled in size and were now covered in blisters. She stifled a curse.
"You'd better go to the hospital wing." Harry advised, with a hint of concern in his voice at the state of Hermione's hands.
Hermione nodded and stood up quickly. The blisters were growing by the second and the swelling was so painful that Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming.
She ran to the hospital wing. When she saw her at the entrance, Madam Pomfrey could not hide her astonishment.
"Miss Granger! What are you doing here so early?"
"I've got some Bubotuber pus on my hands..." she explained, showing her swollen fingers.
Madam Pomfrey asked her questions, and Hermione had to explain that she had received it in a letter, without giving too many details. The nurse finally led her to a bed so she could apply some cream. Hermione thought that she had seen enough of the inside of this hospital wing for ten years.
She waited for the nurse to return with a pot of white cream, which she applied to Hermione's hands up to her wrists. The touch of the cream was cool and soothing. She added another layer to deflate the blisters and then wrapped them in bandages.
In the end, Hermione's hands were completely bandaged. She could barely move her fingers. Madam Pomfrey insisted that she stay in the hospital wing for a while, and Hermione agreed, even though she wanted to get out already. This room was too big, too white and above all too quiet. And Hermione hated silence, except in the Library. She couldn't even read there.
The minutes passed slowly. One of the beds opposite Hermione's was covered with curtains, and Hermione wondered who might be in it. About twenty minutes later, Madam Pomfrey arrived with a cup of tea to keep Hermione waiting. She was very disappointed to have missed the Arithmancy lesson, but at least she could do something with her hands while she waited. She drank it as slowly as she could.
Hermione looked at the large clock in the hospital wing. Arithmancy was over and Herbology had started. She looked around as she sipped her tea, then finished it. She counted the number of planks on the floor. She looked at every label on every potion she could see. She imagined the story of the patient in the bed across from her. When the clock read eleven o'clock, Hermione asked:
"Can I go now, Madam Pomfrey?"
"One more hour." said the nurse from the other room. "We need the cream to take effect."
Hermione didn't hide the disappointment on her face. She hated missing lessons. Besides, Ron and Harry were terrible at taking notes. And she really wanted to be in Care of Magical Creatures. She sulked in her corner, tapping her wand against the empty teacup she was trying to turn into a hamster. It was a class they weren't supposed to have until sixth year, but Hermione wanted to try.
Suddenly, she was startled by Madam Pomfrey's voice:
"Miss Granger, you have a visitor. I told him you were in no condition to see him, but he insists. He says he has some questions about a class."
Looking at Madam Pomfrey's face, Hermione realised that she was not at all on board with this.
"Er, all right." she said in surprise.
Madam Pomfrey walked back into the main room behind Hermione. She heard her visitor's footsteps echo through the hospital wing as he was invited in.
She was expecting Ron or Harry, maybe Neville.
In any case, she certainly wasn't expecting Draco Malfoy to enter the room.