Chapter 5
Hermione's heart beat uncomfortably hard in her chest as she hurried to class the next day — she hadn't seen Harry at breakfast or in the hallways — and she'd looked.
She didn't know what had happened last night — she'd seen Neville at breakfast, and he looked perfectly normal at the Gryffindor table, so she assumed the Order had been successful in protecting Mrs. Longbottom, but what did that mean for Harry?
Hermione watched students enter the transfiguration anxiously, while Padma was at her side, busily pulling out parchment and ink for class.
Professor McGonagall looked just as tense as Hermione. Hermione met her eyes briefly and wished she could ask her what she knew, but this wasn't the time or place.
When class started, and Harry still hadn't shown up, Hermione wanted to get up and run to the dungeons to find out where he was. It was two minutes after McGonagall's lecture started on the ethics of transfiguration and leaving objects or animals transformed that Harry, Draco, and Theo walked in.
McGonagall stiffened. "You are late, gentlemen. Class started two minutes ago. Five points each from your house."
All three boys nodded silently, going to their seats with grim expressions. Even Theo, who was usually cheerful, had an uncharacteristically solemn expression on his face.
Harry looked okay. Relief shot through Hermione. He didn't look happy, but at least he didn't look injured.
Padma leaned over to Hermione, whispering. "I wonder what happened. I've never seen that expression on Theo's face."
Hermione didn't say anything; her gaze fixed on Harry, inspecting him. She saw it when he leaned over to set his bag on the floor—he was favoring his right side.
The movement was small, a slight shift of his posture and a flicker of pain that went over his face, but she was watching him so closely she saw it. Harry did have an injury.
Had he taken care of it properly? She knew he couldn't go to Pomfrey for help. Hermione's fingers curled against the edge of her desk, nails biting into the wood with worry.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall called. "The lesson is up here."
Hermione flinched, jerking her attention to McGonagall. The professor's sharp gaze flicked meaningfully between Hermione and Harry, but Hermione wasn't sure what she was trying to say.
"Sorry, Professor," Hermione muttered.
McGonagall gave a curt nod and continued her lecture.
Padma leaned over again. "You okay?"
Hermione didn't look at her; she couldn't. Harry was finally looking at her.
He looked angry.
It chilled her for just a second, but she shook it off. She must be misunderstanding his expression, because why would he be angry with her? He was the one who still owed her an explanation for leaving during the party.
Padma nudged her. "What's wrong with you?"
Hermione shook her head, finally pulling her gaze away from Harry. "Nothing."
She could barely concentrate on the lesson as it continued; her parchment remained blank as Padma, next to her, took copious notes.
Throughout the class, Harry's posture was too stiff, his back ramrod straight as if he couldn't relax or lean forward comfortably. Once, he pressed his hand briefly to his side as if dealing with a stab of pain.
He didn't meet her eyes again during class.
Hermione didn't realize how she'd grown used to his gaze on her until she felt bereft without it. The weight of his gaze had been something she'd always reliably felt when Harry was close. As if he extended an invisible hand that was always pressed warmly against her back, bracing her, and now it was missing.
They were supposed to talk after class at tutoring, but she couldn't wait. She wanted to talk to him now. She needed to find out what was wrong with his side.
Hermione swallowed hard, staring down at the parchment she hadn't written a single word on.
She just had to wait until the end of class.
OOOooOOOOoooOOOO
Class ended an eternity later.
Hermione shot out of the room and stood in the hallway impatiently waiting for Harry to leave the classroom. Just as he was the last to arrive, he was the last to leave, preceded by Draco and Theo.
Both Draco and Theo took one look at her, then told Harry they'd see him in the next class.
"I thought you didn't want to talk to me until tutoring." He said.
That stung. He didn't want to talk to her now?
She couldn't talk to him about his wound in the middle of the hallway. "Let's go to the tutoring classroom."
"Fine." He agreed, following her.
When they arrived in the empty classroom, Harry walked straight to a desk, throwing his bag down and jumping on top of it to settle himself comfortably. He leaned toward his left, favoring his right side.
"What's wrong with your side?" She asked.
Harry looked at her coolly. It wasn't an expression she was used to seeing from him. "Don't you already know?"
"How — how would I know?"
Because you're the one who told,her inner voice whispered.
There's no way Harry could know it was her who alerted Dumbledore. But there was the unmistakable look of knowledge in his eyes as he faced her.
Fine tremors started from the inside out as the thought sent her into a know it was she who told Dumbledore about the raid? Why would he come to the classroom then if he knew it was her?
But then another thought crashed through her panic.
If he was mad because she told, that meant the conversation she overheard had been exactly what she thought. Harry had been involved with Voldemort's machinations. She'd been stupid to ignore all the circumstantial evidence that pointed to what he had been doing.
Harry stared at her silently as all these thoughts ran through her mind. The cool green flame in his eyes didn't waver as he watched her, and a stubborn part of her still insisted that she didn't know for certain yet if he had done anything wrong. There could still be some other explanation for his wound and his disappearances. That there had to be some other explanation than the obvious.
That Harry was a Death Eater doing Death Eater things.
As she watched him, Harry held out his hand, his eyes challenging her to take it.
She'd held Harry's hand before. She remembered how warm and safe she felt with his hand closed around hers. The way his skin was slightly rough — likely from all the Quidditch he played. She wanted to feel that reassurance and to take his hand. She wanted him to tell her that he wasn't doing Voldemort's bidding — that there was some other explanation for what she'd overheard.
But she shouldn't try to deceive herself. The reality was staring her right in the face with the injury Harry was sporting right after a raid.
How pathetic was it that she was desperate to take his hand?
The conflict made her tremble as she stared at his hand. She didn't know what she thought — what she should do— except for one single thing.
She wanted to take his hand.
She shouldn't.
But she couldn't resist the comfort his hand offered.
She reached for him, sliding her palm along his as she grasped him like a lifeline. His fingers closed over hers — his larger hand swallowing her smaller one, and his eyes finally warmed.
"Tell me what's happening, Harry." She whispered to him desperately. "Tell me what happened last night. Tell me where you went when you left me at Hogsmeade. Just tell me something." She just needed to know what she was dealing with. Who she was dealing with. Not knowing was driving her a bit mad.
"I've told you more than I should."
Hermione couldn't help the slightly hysterical laugh that escaped at that. "What— but you're not. You don't tell me anything. You never answer my questions."
"Maybe you're not asking the right questions."
Hermione gritted her teeth, and her hand tightened on his as if she could leash him. He gave a slight grimace, shifting, and she was reminded of his wound again. "What's wrong with your side?"
"A mistake on my part — I wasn't quite fast enough to avoid a curse." He admitted.
"Let me see it," Hermione demanded. She tugged her hand from his, both hands going to the hem of his shirt and pulling it out of his trousers. He grunted as he complied, leaning to the side while she jerked up his shirt.
Even though the urgency to see his injury for herself thrummed through her, Hermione couldn't help but freeze at the sight of his bared chest. His body had a sharp athleticism, lean muscles wrapped tight over bone. He was built for speed and agility. Harry was the kind of person you'd lose in a blink—then suddenly feel the press of his wand at your back before you even knew he'd moved.
"My injury is on my side, " Harry said with a sly tone of voice when he caught her eyes wandering.
"Be quiet." She muttered, a blush crawling up her face. She jerked her gaze to the side and had to swallow a gasp at the angry red marks. The skin was raised into welts in a pattern that looked like something had clawed his side, and the color beneath the welts was bruised. "You already put dittany on it?"
Harry gave a quiet hum in agreement. "But curse wounds always take a while to heal. By next week, I should be fine."
"Who did it?" Hermione met his eyes as he watched her back consideringly.
"I don't know." He answered finally.
Hermione's hands fell to her sides, and his shirt dropped back down. She looked away from him, disappointed. "You don't have to lie to me."
Harry's hand snapped out, grasping her chin firmly and pulling her head up to face him. "I've never lied to you. And I promise I never will."
Fine if he promised he wouldn't lie to her… then she'd get the answer that she needed for her peace of mind.
"Are you on you know who's side?" She whispered, staring into his eyes.
Of course, he didn't answer. He stared at her silently, consideringly, before asking in return, "What do you know about him, Hermione?"
"He's evil— he hates muggles and muggleborn— he's a bigoted purist— "
"Mhmm." Harry agreed. Harry leaned even closer, his eyes serious as they faced each other a whisper apart. "Have you ever heard of Legilimency?"
She'd never heard of it, but it was the number one thing she was going to research now.
Harry continued without her response. "It's a skill very few wizards have." There was a small heartbeat of quiet to emphasize his following sentence. "It's the skill to read someone's mind — what they've done— what they've thought—if they're lying — everything."
A shiver went down Hermione's spine. "Does he have this skill?" She asked, meaning Voldemort.
Harry scoffed. "I would be more accurate to ask what skill he doesn't have." He pulled back from her slightly. "He's feared for more than just his beliefs, Hermione."
Hermione stared at Harry, trying to puzzle out why he was telling her this. Was he saying Voldemort read his mind? Was that why he didn't answer any of her questions? "Are you saying he tries to read your mind?"
"He doesn't just try." He said quietly. "He succeeds. Whenever he wants."
Hermione sucked in a sharp breath at the thought of Harry being violated like that. "But— you can stay away — I can help you— " She started desperately. She'd do anything to help him get out of that situation. She couldn't imagine having someone invade your mind whenever they wanted.
Harry shook his head. "Hermione." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair roughly, almost yanking on the ends. "I didn't want to do it this way."
"Do what?" Dread snaked through her at the thought of what he might be on the verge of confessing.
Harry pulled her close again until she stood between his legs, their eyes locking. Pain and stress bracketed the lines of his mouth. The look on his face reminded her that she needed to rescue him.
"You can't rescue me, Hermione."
What? Had she said that out loud? She felt so frazzled.
Harry repeated even lower, some impulse making her try to jerk away, but he held her captive. "You can't rescue me."
"But—" Hermione felt like all the air was being sucked from the room — it made it hard to think. She just had to convince him — she could tell him about the Order and Dumbledore, and together they could keep Harry safe from Voldemort. "I can, Harry — there are things you don't know—"
"No, there are things you don't know." He interrupted. "Stop. Let me get this out."
"Okay…" Hermione stared up at him urgently, her mind already trying to think of ways to convince him and plot out how she'd tell Dumbledore and everyone else.
Harry watched her a minute longer and then sighed. "Voldemort is not the only one who has that skill, Hermione." Hermione jerked at hearing Voldemort's name out loud, but Harry continued undeterred. "I have quite a bit of experience with Legilimency, too." He said, meaningfully staring into her eyes. "Snape and Dumbledore do too."
Hermione stared at him, her mind trying to understand what he meant. Harry had experience with Legilimency—the skill of reading minds.
She hadn't said she'd rescue him out loud.
There was an apology now in his eyes, and it made Hermione's heart sink to her toes.
Hermione tried to jerk away, but he wouldn't let her go, keeping her trapped in his hold. "You've been reading my mind." She stated quietly, looking into his guilty eyes.
Harry didn't break eye contact. "All I need is eye contact."
Hermione dropped her eyes. "You're always met my eyes— you— damn you!"
Harry's fingers dug into her arms as she tried to pull away. "Wait a minute. Stop."
Her chest hurt like it was caving in as she tried to remember all the times — the eye contact — God, it had been almost all the time. "Get away from me!"
"But am I the only one?" Harry demanded, trying to get her attention.
Hermione froze. What did he mean? "The only one?"
"The only one who always meets your eyes? Who never looks away." He shook her gently. "Think, Hermione, you already know the answer."
Someone who always met her eyes. Who always looked — twinkling blue eyes flashed in her mind. "Dumbledore." She gasped.
She remembered how Dumbledore had knelt so they could look eye to eye while he'd questioned her about whether Harry had left the party that Saturday night. He had been reading her mind.
"Yes." Harry gave a twisted smile. "Such a kind, benevolent man who tried to probe my mind as an eleven-year-old. Little did he know I already had extensive training by that time."
Somehow, the idea of Dumbledore trying to read Harry's mind at such a young age didn't seem as shocking as it should have. Dumbledore's image had become more and more tarnished in Hermione's mind since joining the Order.
Also, the thought of why Harry would have had such extensive training by the time he was eleven made her ill. Voldemort with young Harry. Her stomach turned. Her outrage twisted with pity and horror at the thought of a young Harry's mind being invaded. Each emotion was so sharp, swirling inside her until she felt like screaming.
He'd been reading her mind the entire time, and she hadn't even known. She didn't want anyone wandering through her thoughts.
Hermione's hands clenched into fists as she remained in his grasp. "How do I protect myself?"
"No more prolonged eye contact. There is the art of Occlumency, where you can seal your mind against intrusion. We can add Occlumency training to our tutoring sessions."
"We're not — I'm not doing anything with you anymore. We are done," Hermione whispered furiously. Her clenched fists trembled with the anger she had — for him and for Dumbledore.
Harry's fingers tightened just slightly on her arms. Not enough to hurt, but enough so that she knew she wasn't going to be able to slip out of his hold.
"We arenotfinished, Hermione. " He said softly, a gentle threat that sent a shiver of what should have been fear through her spine.
But wasn't. She'd never feared Harry that way. It had always been a fear of what he could do to her heart. And now he was ripping it apart, telling her he'd been reading her mind the entire time they'd known each other.
"I'm not the only one who was hiding things, Hermione." The knowledge in his voice made her heart beat heavily. "I'm not the only one with a master."
A master? He knew about the Order. How long had he known? Probably from the first. Bloody hell.
"He's not my master!" She snarled, still avoiding his eyes. Dumbledore was the leader, perhaps — but—
"Be his friend, Hermione." He whispered, echoing Dumbledore and making her heart feel like it was cracking her rib bones. "Be his best friend."
He paused as if waiting for her to respond, but there was no way she could even speak — at this point, if he let her go, she was going to collapse on the floor and try to disappear into the stone.
The whole time she thought she was spying, he was playing her.
"Hermione." His voice became louder when she stayed still, her face averted. "Look at me."
She gave a shaky laugh. "I'm never looking at you again."
His hands slid from her arms down to her hips, curving around them to bring her close. "You'll have to."
The warmth of his arms around her felt like it was the only thing keeping her together, while it was his words and actions that were ripping her into pieces. Why did she get such comfort from Harry's embrace when he was the one who was causing her pain?
Anger surged in her. He'd probably thought she was a fool— she was the only one with a short deck while everyone else had a full hand.
"You're a monster just like he is!" She hissed viciously, wanting to hurt him.
Harry jerked against her at the vehemence in her tone as if she had hit him. Then there was a low hiss as he exhaled, slow and controlled. "Iama monster." He acknowledged shifting his hold on her.
He curved around her, cuddling her close to his solid chest, and whispered to her. "I am a monster." He repeated, his lips brushing her ear and sending tingles through her entire body. "And no one will ever love you the way that I can."
Jesus. He'd read her mind when she was thinking of that dream. Hermione went cold, then hot. Her face burned with embarrassment. She'd had that dream weeks ago, and he'd known the entire time.
"You say I'm terrible at sharing— you're terrible at it too." His hands spread on her back, large and warm. His arms were like steel bands around her. "You join secret organizations to spy on me. You dream about me and don't tell me. You get bullied and don't tell me." He paused. "Why didn't you tell me about the bullying at least?"
As he spoke, listing all her secrets, her anger drained away until she was standing in his hold, stripped bare and trembling. Hermione always had a plan — she was always thinking of her next move. But now her mind was white noise, and her fists were bloodless.
Harry took advantage of her stillness, coming so close that his lips brushed her ear as he spoke, his warm breath caressing the sensitive nerve endings there. "You shouldn't have to deal with petty things like that. Let me take care of it for you." His voice was so seductive.
"I'd kill him for you, Hermione." His head turned, his lips trailing lower against her neck. She sucked in a breath as heat surged low in her belly. "Please, ask me to kill him for you."
The dark earnestness of his voice snapped her out of her daze. Hermione reached up, grasping his shirt, mindful of his wound. "No, Harry."
"Mmm." He hummed appreciatively against her. "It might be hard for me to remember not to kill him if you don't remind me quite frequently. Weasley is quite aggravating."
She almost laughed at the remark—and the fact that, after everything he'd told her, laughter was still her first impulse said far more about her than she liked. Maybe she was just as unhinged as Harry after all.
God, what was she going to do with him?
"I'm so confused." She murmured both to herself and to him.
"I'm sorry." He apologized sincerely, further confusing her.
"I don't want you reading my mind anymore, Harry." The words came out sounding dangerously like an acquiescence—like she was already accepting a future where he would have the chance to do so. The realization unsettled her. Was she truly considering being that close to him?
"I won't, or at least I won't without your permission. But remember, I wasn't the only one." He paused. "You need training to block intrusions."
"You don't have my permission to read my mind— ever," Hermione answered flatly.
"Fine."
"I can't believe I'm even considering this. I must be mental." She muttered against him.
"No, just falling in love."
Hermione jerked back, forgetting for a moment and meeting his gaze. Harry was grinning boyishly at her as if he hadn't just confessed to reading her mind, exposed her spying, and then offered quite excitedly to kill another of their classmates.
"You're definitely mental."
"Highly likely." He agreed easily. "You still like me though." He sounded confident, and she couldn't even say that was a lie.
Hermione wagged her finger in his face, her eyes averted. "Are you reading my mind?"
Harry's hand came up, capturing her wagging finger. "I keep my promises, Hermione. And I won't lie to you."
"You've exposed all my secrets and given me none of yours."
"Let me teach you to occlude— and then…" He trailed off, his face lowering toward her. For a frantic second, she thought he was going to kiss her and froze. "Then I'll tell you everything."
She remained frozen until she realized he wasn't going to close the tiniest gap that remained between them. "Okay." She said, finally, breathlessly.
"After classes, then."
"After classes." She agreed.
She needed to get her head on straight before the end of the day.
OOOooOOOOoooOOOO
Hermione was practically vibrating during lunch as she waited until she could drag Padma and Luna outside, where they wouldn't be heard. The conversation around her passed by her in a blur as her mind whirled with everything that Harry had told her.
She kept her gaze focused on her food even though she felt Harry's gaze on her several times during lunch. There was no way she was meeting his gaze until she had more information. She was going to get to the bottom of this Legilimency first. As soon as Padma and Luna looked halfway done with their meals, she leaned forward, asking eagerly. "Should we go walk outside?"
Padma's eyebrows raised, and she nodded while Luna gave a cheerful smile, standing up. As soon as the three hit the edge of the Black Lake and were far enough away from anyone else, Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a muffliato. Muffliato was a spell that filled anyone near who was trying to overhear their conversation with a buzzing sound.
After overhearing Harry, she was now paranoid about all the times she'd spoken of sensitive information without casting one. She turned to Padma and Luna. "What do you know about Legilimency?"
Padma frowned. "I don't think I've heard of that. What is it?"
"Yes! I hadn't heard of it either." Hermione confessed.
"Legilimency is the art of viewing another person's mind— their thoughts, feelings, and memories," Luna said as if reciting from memory.
Padma and Hermione's heads whipped in her direction. "How do you know that? Where did you learn it?"
"My father. He taught me how to protect my mind from a legilimens." Luna said.
"Legilimens? Hermione asked.
"Well, the skill is called Legilimency, but people who practice it are called legilimens," Luna said. "And learning how to block them, you need Occlumency."
"Could you teach me?" Hermione asked Luna eagerly. She wouldn't have to rely on Harry if Luna could do it.
Luna frowned. "I don't know Legilimency. You need to learn Occlumency from someone who has already mastered Legilimency. My father came into my mind to show me how to occlude by building layers in my mind."
"Layers?"
"Like wrapping a present!" Luna made a box shape with her hands. "It doesn't stop someone determined — there's not much you can do against a skilled Legilimens who's determined to get your thoughts — but it lets me know if anyone even tries to scan my mind so I can get away from them."
Did that mean Harry thought she would let him into her mind to show her how to build the layers? Harry was even more mental than she had accused him of being if he thought she would let him into her mind. Maybe she shouldn't meet with him until she had more information about Legilimency.
But who would she learn from?
"Where could I get more information about it, though? A book on it?" Hermione asked Luna and Padma thoughtfully. There had to be another way to teach Occlumency - especially if the skill was rare enough that she hadn't even heard of it before now.
"It's not in any of the textbooks that we have," Padma said, her eyes a little glazed as she mentally reviewed their books.
Luna had already gotten distracted from the conversation. She'd wandered closer to a tree near the path and was inspecting the pattern in the bark.
"No, it's not," Hermione confirmed. They'd both read their books from back to front multiple times. It was a Ravenclaw thing.
"It's a more advanced skill you don't learn until after Hogwarts in an apprenticeship or on the job," Luna said, not looking away from her tree. "Very few can master the art of Legilimency, but usually everyone can make a rudimentary defense. I know most children are taught it either by their parents or a hired tutor."
"But my mother never mentioned it," Padma said with a frown, having come from a magically mixed household.
Luna shrugged. "My father was always worried about vampires reading his mind — so he sought out training. All vampires are very good legilimens. Maybe your mum wasn't worried about vampires."
Both Padma and Hermione stared at Luna for a moment before shaking it off and turning back to each other.
The one place Hermione had always found her answers was the library— why would this be any different? She knew there wasn't anything about Legilimency in the regular aisles… but that's not all that was in the Hogwarts library, was it?
"What about…" Hermione turned to Padma excitedly. "What about the restricted section in the library? We've never been in there. Perhaps it has a section on Legilimency and Occlumency."
"We've never been in there because it's locked," Padma answered, frowning. "How would we get in?"
"Maybe we could get one of the professors to write us a note?" Hermione said hopefully.
Padma grimaced. "Who would do that? We don't have any assignments that would require access to the restricted section."
Hermione frowned. "That's true…." She paused, thinking. "Well, I'll just have to go after curfew and sneak in."
"You mean we'll go," Padma said firmly.
Luna finally looked away from her inspection of the tree. "Me too!"
Hermione shook her head. "The more people, the more likely we'll be heard and caught — I'll go by myself and bring whatever I find back to our room."
Padma frowned. "Or we could help you find the book - it's going to take you longer to find it by yourself — we'd be quicker together."
Luna nodded. She seemed to be firmly on the idea of all of them going.
Hermione hesitated. Padma made a good point, but… "It's still risky. Let me go first — make sure I can get in and do a quick look. Then, once I know how to get in and whether I need more help, we all go together."
Hermione could tell Padma wanted to argue, but her plan did sound logical. Finally, Padma sighed. "Fine." She said grumpily, then she paused. "Wait— where did you hear of Legilimency then? You never said how it came up."
Hermione winced. She'd been hoping that Padma would be so distracted by learning something new that she wouldn't ask where Hermione had gotten the information. "Harry is a legilimens."
Padma's mouth dropped open when she saw Hermione's wince and jumped to exactly the right conclusion. "He was reading your mind, wasn't he? Does he know everything?"
Hermione nodded slowly while Padma took a step back until her back hit the tree, and she leaned back against it. "He knows you were spying on him."
Hermione could feel the prickle of embarrassment again at everything Harry knew. "Yes."
"You can't go see him again then until you know more information - until we know more information," Padma said firmly, standing up straight again. "It's too risky."
Hermione waved that away. "How is it risky? He already knows everything."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded emphatically. Harry definitely knew everything. "He said he'd start teaching me Occlumency."
Padma shook her head, disagreeing. "I think you should wait until you confirm what he's said with a book — verify first."
Hermione bit her lip. "I told him I'd meet him later for tutoring." There was also the issue of his threat to Ron, but that was something she'd rather not share with her friends yet.
"Research first." Padma declared.
Luna, who'd been listening, nodded in agreement with Padma. "I don't know much about Legilimency, really — just what my father told me when I was little— perhaps it would be better to verify everything first before being alone with Harry again, Hermione." She advised cautiously.
Hermione looked between Padma and Luna and hesitated — putting off Harry didn't seem like a good idea to her, but Padma and Luna had a valid point that she needed more information.
She'd send him a note cancelling until next week — and instead break into the restricted section tonight. That way, hopefully, if she found some books, she could have almost an entire week to study up on them before she met Harry one-on-one again on Thursday.
"Fine," Hermione said determinedly. "I'll cancel tutoring with Harry until next week. And I'll go to the restricted section tonight."
OOOooOOOOoooOOOO
Time seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly as Hermione hunched over her texts in the library. She'd been eyeing the restricted section, going over her plan to break into it later tonight. It looked to be a simple lock that barred students from entering the area, which would be easy to bypass.
A part of her half expected there would be some other protective spell on the area, considering the dangerous information contained. Still, she'd long since learned that magical people were quite lax when it came to danger, probably because many simple potions healed broken bones and cuts in no time at all.
Hermione had been watching her surroundings instead of studying, so she spotted Harry as soon as he stepped out of the aisles and strode in her direction. There was a determined expression on his face as he approached, and Hermione immediately dropped her eyes to her text.
"You cancelled our tutoring session."
Hermione tucked her hands under the table, clenching them together as she braced herself. She didn't look up at him. "I'm sorry. I was assigned a paper, and I just needed to get to work on it immediately."
There was a beat of silence, and Hermione knew he was staring at her blank parchment. "I see."
Hermione swallowed, offering, "I'll be there next week."
"Are you scared of me?" He asked, leaning toward her.
"No!" She said.
Madam Pince, the librarian, hissed a quiet reprimand from the far right, "Quiet!"
Hermione winced and said firmly, "I am not afraid of you."
"Then look at me." He dared.
It would be stupid to take that dare, even with his promise not to read her mind. Hermione's nails dug into her skin, and she kept her gaze on the parchment in front of her. "I am not afraid of you." She repeated.
"You don't know what I've already risked for you— and you can't trust me enough to look at me now?" Harry demanded quietly.
Hermione's spine was stiff as she sat there with her head bent down. When she didn't respond, Harry pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. He shifted, and his legs stretched out on either side of hers. The table suddenly felt too small and the library too warm.
Hermione wished she had hidden at her favorite table by the window again. She hadn't thought Harry would confront her after she canceled their tutoring session.
"I told you I wouldn't use legilimency on you anymore." He said quietly. "You don't trust me to keep my word?"
Hermione took a slow breath, trying to calm her racing heart. "It would be foolish to trust you."
He leaned forward, placing his hand in her line of sight. "Then be foolish. Look at me."
She heard the underlying message in his demand — he wanted her to prove she trusted him. It would be absolutely ridiculous for her to trust him.
His hand stretched out further, palm up— steady— waiting.
A part of her felt like he was training her to reach for him — always holding out his hand to her — waiting for her to take it. And despite that thought, taking his hand was almost irresistible. In a strange sort of way, despite all his secrets, Harry was now the one who had been the most honest with her.
He'd told her everything he knew, while Dumbledore and everyone else had made her fight for everything and only told her information piecemeal. And Dumbledore was still hiding the fact that he had been reading her mind.
She wanted to trust him. It reminded her of what Luna said —opposites on the surface who had more in common underneath. She and Harry were opposites in many ways — and yet in this, the attraction and need she felt for him — she knew he felt it too.
"Hermione." He said, softly, a pleading note in his voice that she just couldn't stand.
Her hand shot out to grasp his, and she looked up into his dark green eyes. "I just need time, Harry." She explained softly, reassuringly.
"You trust me?" His eyes were so dark.
She was mental. "Yes." And she meant it. Despite every fact that said he should be the last one she should trust — that he was her enemy — she'd never really felt that way, even from the first.
He closed his eyes, nodding, his hand grasping hers tightly as if some great wave of relief had gone through him.
"I would never hurt you." He said, not looking at her. "I wouldn't betray your trust, Hermione."
Hermione's throat closed as she watched him, hearing the sincerity in his voice. Harry was so many different aspects — the danger, the darkness — and yet at the same time, this fragility was just as real. "I know."
He let her go slowly and then stood up, looking down at her. Her gaze didn't waver from his. "Then next week? For sure?"
She wasn't afraid of Harry. She trusted him despite everything.
"Yes." She confirmed firmly.
He nodded sharply, turning away to stride out of the library.
Hermione finally took a deep breath, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. The small part of her that had worried that Harry was playing with her was completely quiet. He'd always seemed to be with the upper hand when they interacted, but this time…
There's been a vulnerability when he'd asked her about trusting him. Her choice had mattered to Harry.
Hermione slowly started gathering up her things. She wasn't going to be able to study anyway.
She had to get into the right frame of mind for tonight to break into the restricted section alone.
OOOooOOOOoooOOOO
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Hermione couldn't deny the thrill of sneaking out — something she'd never done in all her years at Hogwarts. She was wearing a dark blue hooded cloak that they'd spelled with quietening charms and notice-me-nots.
It wasn't Harry's invisibility cloak, but Hermione thought she was as protected as she could be, considering the circumstances. The hallways were quiet and dark except for the cool moonlight streaming through the windows.
The portraits, which were usually awake and chatting with each other, were all sleeping, and some were snoring loudly. Hermione moved as quietly and as quickly as she could, making her way down to the library.
Slipping into the library was easy, and Hermione again felt the thrill of the forbidden as she approached the gated Restricted Section. Placing her wand on the lock, she whispered the unlocking charm. "Alohomora."
There was a distinct click as the lock opened, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. A part of her had thought it would be more secure than a simple locking charm. Then she rolled her eyes of course, it wasn't. This was Hogwarts after all.
With an eager smile, she stepped into the forbidden aisles, running her fingers along the spines of the books as she whispered soundlessly to herself the titles.
Several potion books caught her eye, and she almost stopped when she saw the section on time turners. But resolutely she continued her search until she found the section she was looking for.
Hermione smiled as she pulled a gold-covered volume from the shelf. Legilimency: The Mind's Eye.
She flipped through the pages and stopped at the introduction.
Although it is unknown who invented the art of Legilimency, it is undeniable that Salazar Slytherin was the first widely known practitioner in the tenth century…
Figures that it would be a Slytherin to master the art of invading another's mind first, Hermione thought, thinking of Harry's dark green eyes. Clutching the book close, she inspected the shelf and pulled out several more volumes, including several on Occlumency.
Tapping the books with a small feather-light charm, she easily picked up her large pile and left the restricted section, carefully locking the gate behind her.
She made her way silently down the hallway, already congratulating herself on a successful heist, when she froze, hearing Filch's voice. Suddenly, thoughts of how much trouble she could get in came crashing down on her head, and her breath caught.
"What are ye doing out of your rooms!" Filch demanded aggressively just out of her sight.
"Confundo." Draco Malfoy said tersely.
Hermione dashed towards the wall, hiding behind a display of knights' armor. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed against the wall as she heard footsteps heading her way.
"Gots to get my biscuits, yes I do, my little tasty biscuits…" Filch muttered, not even noticing her as he walked past the armor she was hiding behind, weaving from side to side. Mrs. Norris, his cat, meowed worriedly, trailing behind him.
"Can't forget the tasty little biscuits," Harry called after Filch, not even bothering to lower his voice.
Hermione stiffened, wondering why both Draco and Harry were out after curfew. It seemed like they paid no attention at all to the rules and just went wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted. She ignored the fact she was breaking those same rules now — that was different.
Theo laughed, making Hermione realize it was all three out, not just Draco and Harry. "I think I'm hungry — could we stop by the kitchens on our way back?"
"It's not like that's on our way," Draco said, continuing down the hallway heading away from where Hermione hid. "And besides, if you keep eating like that, you're going to get fat."
"We'll see how early we finish up," Harry said.
Hermione peeked around the corner, expecting to see the three Slytherins walking together, and instead almost jerked back violently at seeing a redhead in their midst.
Ron had not said a word as he walked amongst Harry, Draco, and Theo in his pajamas. Hermione stayed frozen, watching the four of them until they disappeared around the corner. What should she do?
She bit her lip, looking in the direction they had gone — Harry wouldn't really kill Ron, would he?
Please, ask me to kill him for you. Harry's voice whispered in her mind.
No, Harry would definitely kill him.
Hermione put her books down behind the armor and cast several hasty disillusionment charms and Notice Me Nots. Then she dashed as quietly as she could in the direction that Harry, Draco, Theo, and Ron had disappeared.
OOOooOOOOoooOOOO
Draco, Theo, and Harry surrounded Ron as they escorted him through the dark hallways of Hogwarts after curfew. They weren't quiet and weren't even looking around for anyone who might see them.
Hermione stayed far enough back that even if they looked back, they'd have trouble spotting her in the darkness of Hogwarts after curfew.
They never looked back as they came to the big wooden front doors, opening one, and slipping out of the castle. The door closed behind them with a soft thunk.
Hermione froze, indecisive— should she follow them or should she run to get a professor? She hesitated only a moment before making her decision—she wanted to see what they were doing—and not hear it from second-hand sources.
And why would Ron be going with the Slytherins? He hated them so much. She approached the front doors slowly, wanting to give them time to hopefully move far enough away so that they wouldn't notice her slipping out after them.
As a further measure, she cast a silencing charm on the door so it wouldn't make a sound as she opened and shut it. With that, Hermione slipped from Hogwarts and looked around quickly, trying to spot where the boys had disappeared to — and she barely caught sight of the gleam of the white blond hair of Draco Malfoy in the moonlight, moving into the dark forest.
She hesitated again — she really hadn't thought they'd go into the dark forest, and she wasn't keen on going there by herself. But then she really wouldn't be by herself, would she? Harry would be in there somewhere, too.
That thought decided her, and she made her way by the bright moonlight to where she had seen Draco Malfoy disappear into the dark forest. As soon as she stepped under the canopy of the dark forest, it was darker and colder than it had been just seconds before.
Hermione shivered, stepping cautiously deeper into the forest, her head cocked as she tried to hear their footsteps or voices.
The trees crowded in on her, making her feel small, and she could barely see the once bright moon and stars through the thick branches. Leaves crunched loudly under her feet, and her breathing seemed to echo unnaturally loud in the otherwise eerie silence. The wind whistled through the trees, almost like a scream, as the branches creaked. Hermione's hand tightened on her wand as she tried to push away her growing fear.
They'd always been warned against going into the dark forest. Seconds stretched to minutes, and she still hadn't found them. How deep could they have gone? If she didn't find them soon, she'd just turn around and walk back out.
She wasn't lost.
She was perfectly fine.
The eerie howl echoed through the forest again, and chills ran down her back. It was someone screaming, she realized as it came again. They sounded like they were in terrible pain. Hermione took several cautious steps in the direction of the screams. Her lungs seemed starved for air even though she tried to breathe quietly, and her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her rib cage.
The scream came again — closer this time, and she had to consciously relax her wrist, remembering what Harry said about stiffness slowing down casting. She crept toward the scream, thinking it sounded familiar and trying not to think about what that might mean about the person screaming.
The closer she got, the louder the screams became, and she began to hear another voice. One that was calm and controlled. Her heart leapt. Harry.
"That's good, Pansy! Excellent." Harry's voice came through clearly as the screaming abruptly cut off. "Next."
"But Harry—" Hermione recognized Gregory Goyle's tentative voice. "I don't think I can—"
"No. It's your turn, Greg." Harry said firmly.
"You bloody bastards! I'm going to get you all thrown in Azkaban!" Ron Weasley screamed, enraged.
Hearing Ron's voice jolted Hermione, and she took several steps closer, hiding behind a tree and peeking around to see what was happening.
Ron was bound in the center of a group of about fifteen Slytherins, some of whom she recognized from the party. Harry stood next to Greg, who had his wand pointed at Ron, and it was wavering slightly.
Harry put his hand on Greg's wrist, shaking it. "Steady yourself. You have to have deadly intent for the cruciatus to work — push back that fear and bring forward your anger."
Hermione's mouth dropped open as she watched Harry try to teach Greg how to cast the cruciatus curse on Ron. She tensed, wondering if she should run forward and stop them or run and get one of the professors.
"I'm trying," Greg muttered, staring at Ron.
"Do you remember when your father cut your face?" Harry asked his voice like a blade. "Remember everyone looking at you, not helping, as you bled in front of them?"
Greg's hand tightened on his wand, anger flowing into his voice. "Yes."
"Channel that anger into your cruciatus." Harry stepped back. "Go."
Ron was shaking his head, his blue eyes wild. "No, you fucking—"
The red light of the cruciatus slammed into him, and he started screaming wildly, his body jerking. His screams became hoarse and desperate as he ran out of breath— his mouth open in a wide O of silent agony as the gathered Slytherins watched stone-faced.
Bloody hell. Hermione stumbled backward, her face completely white from watching the pain of the cruciatus on Ron Weasley's face. She fell heavily on her arse and turned, crawling away as she got awkwardly to her feet.
"Did you hear that?" Draco asked sharply, sending a bolt of fear through her.
The Slytherins were absolutely quiet for a few moments before Harry began issuing orders. Hermione started running, not wanting to run into any of them.
"Everyone, go back to the dungeons — Theo, Draco, get Ron back to Gryffindor and don't forget the obliviate." Hermione heard Harry order as she ran in the direction she thought was Hogwarts.
The sounds of the Slytherin training group faded as Hermione ran full tilt back toward the castle, the leaves crunching loudly under her feet. Trees passed in a blur, and an ache developed in her side.
After a few minutes, she stopped abruptly, breathing hard, and looked around wildly. She should have been out of the forest already — she didn't think she'd walked this far before stumbling on the Slytherins.
Her heart was pounding from the run, and she tried to calm her breathing so she could come up with a plan.
A branch cracked loudly behind her, and Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, dashing forward again. She ran full tilt into a low-hanging branch, and it dragged along her side, catching her blue cloak and making her stumble. She tried to keep going but lost her balance when she stumbled over a prickly bush, falling heavily before jumping back up to run.
"Immobulus!" Came the calm yell from behind her.
The spell slammed into her back, freezing all her limbs mid-run. She teetered for a moment and then started to fall.
"Dammit!" Harry's sharp voice behind her made her cringe on the inside. His hand grasped her elbow harshly, steadying her. "Finite."
Her foot came down heavily, and she took a deep breath before turning on him, anger flowing through her like a rush of fire. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
Harry didn't flinch at her fury — if anything, for the first time, he seemed truly angry at her. "What am I doing?" he asked roughly. "What are you doing in the dark forest alone at this time of night? Don't you know it's bloody dangerous?"
Hermione jerked her arm out of his hold and stumbled back a step from him. Her breath came too fast, ragged from both the run and the emotions surging through her. "I saw you taking Ron out of the castle—"
"And so you just decided to follow me, not knowing where I was going?" Harry asked incredulously. "You could have—"
"You're getting after me— after what you were doing!" Hermione said almost in a shriek.
Harry didn't react to the accusation, frowning at her in the dim light of the forest. "Weasley will be fine." He said, finally.
Hermione stared at him, stunned. "Fine!? You lot were casting the cruciatus at him! You were torturing him!"
"We obliviate him afterwards — he doesn't remember a thing."
"He doesn't remember a thing— how long have you been doing this?" She asked, shocked.
Harry shrugged. "As long as he's been annoying me. So a while. It's not like he's dead."
Hermione thought her head would explode. "You were using him like a bloody study group for unforgivables!"
His jaw tightened. "Well, you said I couldn't kill him; you didn't say anything about the cruciatus."
"Bloody hell." She whispered, staring at the reasonable expression on his face. "You don't even understand why I'm mad, do you?"
"I listened to you— he's alive, isn't he?" Harry asked, his voice sharpening with frustrated conviction. "But no one is going to harm you without consequences."
"Consequences like torture!?" Hermione scrubbed a hand over her face. "God, Harry!"
Harry shrugged. "What?"
"I don't want you torturing anyone either." And it was wild that she had to make sure he knew that. "Whether or not they remember it. And it's not your job to protect me— I can protect myself."
Harry approached her rapidly, and she didn't back up, raising her chin. He didn't stop until they were practically nose to nose as he looked down at her. "Why shouldn't I torture him?"
"Because it's wrong." She snarled.
"There is no right or wrong— only what is in your power to do," Harry said, almost as if he was quoting someone else.
Hermione was struck silent for a moment, turning that around in her head. It was so amoral that it stunned her. The cold moonlight filtered down onto Harry's face, catching the gleam of green that looked almost animalistic in the night.
"That's — no— that's not how the world works, Harry," Hermione said, finally shaking her head.
He grasped her arms. "That's exactly how the world works, and you're naive if you don't think so."
Looking into his dark eyes, she remembered Dumbledore confessing how Voldemort had taken Harry when he was five. How could she expect him to have a normal sense of morality when a monster raised him?
He looked angry as he stared down at her, but his fingers clutched her close as if he didn't want to let her go. He was her opposite, who was the same underneath.
"I don't want you torturing people." She said in a wavering voice, her hands coming to fist in his shirt.
"You think that was torture?" he scoffed.
"Yes!" She yelled practically in his face, and he winced, looking around the forest quickly.
"Quiet." He hissed. "There are things out here that will hear you. And they're not going to care about your strange ideas about killing."
"You didn't care about Ron screaming!"
"I had a small army with me if you recall, not just one stubborn witch who has a problem with killing."
"I am not the strange one because I have a problem with killing." She said, but much more quietly.
Harry exhaled, slow and controlled. "Let's go back to the castle. Now."
"Not until you promise you won't torture Ron Weasley anymore."
Harry's jaw clenched, and he looked away into the dark forest for a long moment. A wind blew, and the branches creaked as he remained silent.
Finally, he nodded, "Fine. But you're going to have to realize you can't protect everyone, Hermione— you need to pick your people and keep them safe — not worry about a dead weight like Weasley."
She didn't agree, but she swallowed any further arguments and nodded.
Harry stepped back and held out his hand for her.
She hesitated, staring at his hand, then stepped forward, taking it.
They walked out of the forest together silently. The night wasn't as cold with Harry by her side, nor was the dark forest as scary. He walked with a purpose, and she trusted that he knew his way to the castle.
It annoyed her when he seemed to get out of the forest in minutes when she felt like she had been running for a long time. She must have become disoriented somehow. They didn't spot the other Slytherins or Ron as they emerged. They must have been long gone, considering how long she and Harry had argued in the woods. Now that some of her anger had cooled off, she winced at the thought she'd stayed in the dark woods to argue.
When they entered Hogwarts, he didn't pause, turning towards the stairs to walk her to Ravenclaw Tower. Hermione wondered if the confusion charm they'd hit Filch with had worn off already. She didn't say anything to Harry, but she was grateful he was with her, so she didn't have to worry about getting caught after everything that happened.
Their footsteps were silent as they traversed the dark hallways. Harry didn't speak, and when she glanced at him, she noticed his jaw flexing. She wondered what he had to be irritated about when she was the one who found him torturing someone. Every peek into his thoughts showed her how ruthless he could be — but at the same time, he obviously cared for certain people. He'd told her she couldn't protect everyone, and she wondered if Harry had failed to protect someone he cared for at some time in his life.
When they finally got to the entrance to Ravenclaw, Hermione felt tired and worn. Harry didn't let go of her hand, and she looked at him. He was tense, his jaw a hard line as he stared at her.
Finally, he leaned down, pulling her close. "I won't break my promises to you, Hermione — but I won't let Weasley hurt you either. I won't let it go."
"You can't hurt people in my name, Harry. I don't want that." Hermione said softly, mindful of the halls carrying sound.
"It wasn't in your name." He said, frustrated.
"Then why were you doing it?"
"Because you're mine, and no one messes with you." He said his eyes were dark and stormy.
"You can't just decide that." She whispered, while a blush crawled up her cheeks.
"I can." He straightened. "And I did."
Hermione stared up at him, knowing he wasn't going to budge — and struggling with the fact that despite the fact she was horrified by his actions, she was also flattered.
She was as messed up as Harry.
Hermione stepped back away from him, and he reluctantly let go of her hand. The eagle knocker asked its riddle, and Hermione answered automatically. It was hard to turn away from Harry's dark gaze, but she did, feeling Harry watching her until the door closed behind her.
Only once she was alone did she exhale— shaky and uncertain. Ideals she had thought immutable within herself were shifting.
Was she the same as Harry underneath all her protests?
OOOooOOOOoooOOOO
Hermione decided not to tell Padma or Luna about the torture until she could get her own feelings straight on it — instead, they dived into reading the stolen texts in between classes and normal school work.
And class was another revelation in the power of Harry Potter. Suddenly, no one could meet her eyes, and there was no more bullying. Padma and Luna were ecstatic about the change, regardless of how it had come about.
The one thing that set Hermione's nerves on edge, though, was the hatred in the gaze of Ron Weasley. She'd expected — and she still half expected to be called into the Headmaster's office to account for her behavior that night, but so far that hadn't come to pass.
But whenever her gaze met Ron's in the corridors or over meals, and she saw the depth of his dislike, she couldn't help wondering if—despite Harry's assurances—some part of Ron remembered after all.
Ron hadn't treated her poorly before he began associating her with Harry — he'd always been a little bit grabby, but the threat of violence hadn't been there before. She also wondered how long Harry had been using him to teach the cruciatus curse — what would be the effects of repeated torture, even if, as Harry claimed, he wouldn't remember it? Could there be some somatic memory that motivated Ron's hatred and actions, even if he didn't realize it?
Hermione knew from her reading that prolonged exposure to the cruciatus could affect a person's mind, potentially even driving them mad. Hermione wondered if that really had been the intention of Harry — Ron wouldn't be dead — he'd just be insane.
Harry wielded torture like a tool — something to be taught — and something used to punish.
That thought weighed heavily on Hermione as she once again sat in Charms — avoiding the vicious blue eyes that followed her every time she moved.
She could barely pay attention to Flitwick, her quill copying notes from the blackboard automatically. The image of Ron's pained screaming kept coming to mind despite her best efforts.
By the end of the day, she was exhausted, and she skipped dinner and went directly to her rooms, sitting down and pulling out the books she had stolen. She didn't want to keep them too long, which meant she would have to sneak out again soon to put them back.
The books weren't nearly as useful as she had hoped — Legilimency and Occlumency weren't like potions, with a strict recipe to follow; instead, they resembled Defense Against the Dark Arts more, where theory was no replacement for practicals.
Hermione sighed, closed her eyes, and let her head fall back on her bed. Her actions weighed heavily on her — resting like a weight on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Luna had been right — she had been too wrapped up in the idea of moral superiority where Harry was concerned.
But when that idea clashed with reality, only the truth remained.
And the truth was that she hadn't told Dumbledore anything about what happened that night. She hadn't even told Padma and Luna she'd seen Harry or what he'd been doing.
By keeping her mouth shut, she was making a choice — and she needed to admit that and come to terms with it.
Hermione opened her eyes and stared at the Ravenclaw blue canopy above her. The weight became even heavier on her chest, and she sucked in a pained breath.
She felt so incredibly guilty.
She felt guilty because she didn't feel guilty. She didn't feel guilty about not telling Dumbledore. She didn't feel guilty about keeping quiet about Harry training Slytherins in unforgivables. A part of her even thought the Slytherins would need it.
By keeping her mouth shut, she'd made the choice to stand by Harry. And she couldn't bring herself to regret that. She wanted to stand by him.
Harry wanted to make her happy — and he had told her he kept his promises — she'd just have to get him to promise to leave Voldemort behind.
Harry said that she was his — fine then. That meant he would be hers, too. Thinking of Harry as hers felt like a crossroads.
An acceptance.
She exhaled slowly, her heartbeat settling.
She chose Harry.