Not Quite Dark Magic

TWIST!

Hermione and Malfoy spent the next weeks skirting by each other and avoiding eye contact. Their display on the roof was something that brought heat to her cheeks everytime she thought about it, and despite her best attempts to Occlude it into the dark recesses in her mind, it seemed to always drift forward. Her mind was no longer a flat surface with endless corners to hide things behind. It was now deep and dark; endless. Pushing and pulling and fighting like the ocean currents.

Hermione hated it. It made things much more difficult to Occlude. She had to put herself in a metaphorical boat with the memory, row herself against the tide and mounting waves, and then sink the memory into the dark, deep water. Sometimes even that wasn't enough. Sometimes it floated to the top, drifting forward until it reached the shoreline. Then she'd have to complete the process all over.

It was exhausting, and frankly it wasn't worth it for most of the things she wanted to put away. She hadn't realized how dependent she had become on Occlumency until she was forced to put such an effort forward. She was emotional and jumpy now. She woke up to nightmares for the first time in years just days after the incident on the rooftop. They were incessant, showing her of all the torture she had endured and reminding her she wasn't as strong as she pretended to be.

When Malfoy knocked on her door in the midst of her rowing against the giant waves of her mind, she jumped and gasped. He entered without her permission and she huffed in irritation. Not because he had entered, of course her bloody bind would convince her she was happy to see him. No, she was irritated with herself for just allowing him to saunter in his room, like they were friends or something.

"Friends, no." Malfoy plopped down on the bed beside her, picking up her muggle magazine before grimacing and tossing it onto the floor. "But I am glad to see you're so torturously upset about not hating me."

"I am mad," she emphasized, "because my thoughts and feelings are no longer my own, and while I'm aware this is all by my doing, it doesn't mean I have to be happy about it; or discuss it with you."

"But everyone else is."

Hermione tilted her head, brows knitted in confusion.

"Happy about being bound, that is."

"Well, not everyone is us. We hate each other." Hermione folded her legs beneath her and leant against Malfoy's shoulder. She didn't care about the semantics anymore. She was bloody tired.

"Theo and Ginny hated each other, did they not?"

Hermione reached for the parchment by her bedside table. She hadn't finished her third read through for tonight's raid and she wanted to make sure she was prepared. They were in need of supplies and tonight's run through would be of the utmost importance to their survival. It was going to be dangerous, and she needed to play her part carefully.

Malfoy plucked the paper out of her hands and tossed that on the ground as well. She sat up straight and glared at him. "What is it with you and throwing my possessions like they have no value?"

"Answer my question."

"Ginny and Theo are not you and I, so I hardly feel the need to compare and contrast our relationships. If you'd like, you may draw a Venn Diagram."

Malfoy sat up and placed his elbows on his knees. "But I think if you—"

He was interrupted by the door bursting open, and Hermione was ready to lay into the intruder that her room didn't have a revolving door, but she froze.

"Fred." Her spine stiffened and she ran a hand through her curls absentmindedly.

"Do you always come in without knocking?" Malfoy's voice rang into her mind. She whipped her head to see his eyes taking in the scene before him like a predator ready to pounce. She swallowed, cursing her changing mind because she knew her emotions were written all over her face.