“Did you want to go again?” she asked after a moment.
He stared at her, silver eyes flat. “When I was trained, she'd have someone crucio me while she was trying to break into my mind. That's probably what will happen to you, if you're ever caught.”
He didn't give her time to react to the information before he slammed his way in. When he stopped, he didn't wait for her to regain her breath before dropping a new scroll of information next to her and vanishing.
That week Hermione went back to Waterstones. She bought books on the psychological effects of loneliness. Books on orphans. Research of the psychology of child soldiers.
She didn't hesitate as she underlined sections on their vulnerabilities; the ways by which they were prone to being taken advantage of and manipulated.
In a notebook upon which she placed a rather nasty security curse she began to draw up a psychological sketch of Draco Malfoy. What she'd noticed about him. Questions and theories she had.
The center of him — his motivation — remained a mysterious blank. But she felt as though she were beginning to get a sense of his edges.
The following Tuesday, he did not start by forcing his attentions on her. He set himself to provoking her in other ways.
He did not restrain himself at all when he invaded her mind for another round of occlumency training. He scrabbled into the back of it, and then meandered through the memories he happened to come across. Forcing her to relive some of the deaths she tried hardest not to dwell on. Then, quite by accident, he came across the memory immediately following her conversation with Snape. She flinched when he drew near it, and he immediately pounced.
He watched her examine her facial features critically before stepping into the shower. And when she stepped out and appraised her naked body in the mirror, he stopped and stared, following her mental fault finding. She could feel his condescending amusement as he took her in. She writhed with embarrassment, and he felt that too.
He stayed in the memory for far longer than it lasted and then withdrew entirely from her mind.
“Well,” he said, looking as though he were about to start laughing. “That certainly is one way to distract a legilimens.”
She glared up at him. She was sorely tempted to kick him in the groin and then try to stomp his teeth out.
“Pleased with your purchase?” Her tone was corrosive.
He gave a short laugh under his breath. “You're rather scrawny. If you'd sent me the memory beforehand, I might have asked for someone else,” he said as he stepped back to look her over in person.
“A pity for us both then,” she said, her mouth twisting as she folded her arms defensively.
“Perhaps... But then again, if I hadn't gotten you I would never have had a chance to encounter a brain organized like a filing cabinet.” His voice was light and casual, but his quicksilver eyes abruptly hardened. He cocked his head slightly to the side. “Moody didn't train you. You're a natural occlumens.”
Hermione nodded resignedly. She had assumed he'd realise it eventually. When she'd invented the lie, she hadn't expected him to spend so much time poking around in her head.
“Self-taught, then?”
“I had a book,” she said stiffly.
He gave a barking laugh. “Of course.”
He was staring at her with an expression she couldn't place. As though he were reassessing her. The realisation seemed to be making him to re-evaluate something about her.
Hermione didn't want him to re-evaluate. If he did, he might decide to change his strategy. She liked the current way in which she was not having sex with him.
“What?” she snapped at him impatiently, hoping to break his train of thought. It seemed to work, the narrowed expression of his eyes eased slightly.
“Nothing,” he waved her off. “I've just never encountered one before.”
He smirked.
She stared at him with her own eyes narrowed.
“You're one too,” she said with rising horror. She was trying to slip past the defenses of someone who could also shutter and isolate their emotions and desires.
He gave a mocking bow.
“What are the odds?” he mused with a faint shrug.
There was a long silence.
They were both re-evaluating.
“Are you still going to teach me occlumency then?” she asked at length.
“Yes…” he said slowly. “It would be an oversight to only do it halfway. You'll be able to learn quicker than I had expected.”
“Right.” She nodded and braced herself.
He drew closer to her. Her heart stuttered.
The movement reminded her of an animal stalking prey. Slow, subtle, gradual and then suddenly — too close.
She stared at his face so she wouldn't focus on the physicality of him, on how easily he could break her with his bare hands.
His fingers came up and touched her chin lightly, tilting her head further back so that her throat felt bared.
“You are so full of surprises,” he said, his gaze dragging across her face before locking on her eyes.
Hermione rolled her eyes briefly.
“Do you say that to every girl?” she said in a sarcastically sweet tone.