“You don't fight much, do you?” he abruptly asked.
“No. Most of my work is outside of raids,” she admitted, not willing to detail what she did. She was there to get information, not give it.
“Do you know occlumency?”
“Yes. Moody trained me,” she lied. “I haven't had much practice, but he said I was fairly solid at it.”
“Well, that's a relief. It would be a problem if you were ever picked up and they found the details of this arrangement in your mind,” he said with the most serious expression she'd yet seen on his face.
Then he sneered. “I hope you don't mind if I check for myself just how good you are.”
That was all the warning he gave before driving abruptly into her mind.
Hermione's shields were already up, and the force with which he drove into them was enough to make her head resound like he'd struck a gong inside it. He kept shoving forcefully against her walls, again and again, until she was gasping with pain as she kept him out. Then he paused, and she nearly stumbled.
“You're surprisingly good at it,” he said, looking as though he actually were surprised.
The compliment caught her off guard. Abruptly, he smashed into her mind again. The brief respite had been a feint. She was insufficiently braced for a renewed attack. He found a weak spot, and sliced through it with the speed of an arrow.
She tried to shove him back out, but he quickly moved so far into her memories she couldn't. She could barely even slow him.
Then abruptly, without even pausing to look at anything in her mind, he wrenched himself back out.
She nearly fell over backwards but caught herself, gripping her forehead as she gasped from the pain.
“It's a common trick,” he said casually, not looking as though his assault on her mind had required any effort on his part. “After an intense attack, when an occlumens thinks it's done, they relax slightly. It's the perfect opportunity to get in.”
Hermione was still catching her breath and couldn't respond, so he continued, “If ever you're under interrogation by a truly accomplished legilimens, you'll never keep them out with the sheer strength of your mental walls. If you were a minor member in the Resistance, they'd probably just kill you rather than go to the effort of getting in. But you're an Order member. Potter's Golden Girl. If they ever get their hands on you, they'll probably bring you to me, or Severus, or even the Dark Lord himself. I'm afraid you're going to need to brush up on your occlumency skills.”
“How?” Her voice sounded rasping. She hadn't known it was possible for a mental attack to be so powerful. No wonder Harry had hated his sessions with Snape. Her mind was in agony.
“The trick is letting them in,” Malfoy informed her.
“What?”
“Put in a bit of effort, but eventually pretend to give way. Once they're in, give them false memories or distract them by feinting toward something of less importance. You'll never keep the Dark Lord out of your mind, but if he thinks you're weak, he'll assume victory. You'll have to give up something valuable enough to seem legitimate. However, it's a way to keep the things that matter most hidden.”
Hermione's brain churned as she considered it. Of course, there had to be more to it than just mental walls. There was no way Severus could have deceived the Dark Lord for so many years simply by refusing to allow him to access his mind.
“Spend time thinking about it. If I'm looking for information on Potter or Weasley or the Order, what can you give up that will seem like the biggest secret you've got? Legilimency is like setting someone's house on fire. Minds instinctively bolt to protect what's most important to hide. You have to train yourself to do the reverse. Rush toward what doesn't matter. Practice pulling those memories around in your mind like you're hiding them. I'll try again next week.”
Hermione nodded. She hated the thought of him in her head again, but his reasoning was sound. It would be an invaluable skill.
Malfoy reached into his pocket and tossed something toward her. She caught it reflexively.
She stared into her palm. It was — well, it looked like a wedding band, if wedding bands came in black.
She looked up at Malfoy in astonishment.
“Your protean charm from fifth year inspired me.” He smirked, and raised his right hand indicating a matching onyx band on it. “It'll burn briefly if I need to meet. Twice if it's urgent. I'd highly advise coming quickly if it burns twice. If you want to reach out, the wards here will let me know when you arrive. But otherwise we should stick to a schedule. Is there a time you can get away without drawing suspicion?”
Hermione slid the ring onto the pointer finger of her left hand. It was a simple, slightly geometric band. Not flashy or likely to draw attention. She suspected there was a heavy notice-me-not charm on it.
“I go out for potion ingredients early on Tuesday mornings. I could add an extra half hour without anyone paying attention. Would seven-thirty work?”
He nodded.