The Complete History & Study of Occlumency & Legillimency
She and Draco were ushered off the stage and into the ballroom quickly. Apparently they deserved to celebrate their own mockery. The table they were seated at was at the front of the room, which surprised her that Voldemort's own narcissistic tendencies allowed for him to not be the center of attention for one night.
They sat in silence and ate the roasted duck, potatoes, and green beans that had been provided for dinner. Neither seemed keen on missing a real meal, even if they were laughed at by the death eaters passing their table. They didn’t talk, didn’t look at each other, and didn't acknowledge the others' existence. That was until Hermione spotted Tori walking through the table holding a tray with glasses of champagne. Tori looked up, but instead of looking at her, she looked to Draco.
Tori tugged on her ear and Hermione side eyed Malfoy next to her as he did the same and then turned back to his meal. “She helped me get ready, Tori” Hermione found herself saying to him as she internally berated herself for being the first to break the silence. They hadn’t talked in over three years and here she was talking about the maid who had bathed her.
His fork that had been half way to his mouth stopped its path as he turned to look at her. Even through his dull eyes and emotionless face she could see his white knuckle grip and the smallest tightening around his eyes. “They don’t have names,” he said clinically.
She was about to argue back when Dolohov approached. She swallowed the panic clawing up her throat at seeing a demon in the shape of a man. “My my. Broken, the mudblood looks absolutely ravishing in the late Lady Malfoy’s wedding dress. Of course it would be better worn by a woman of proper breeding” Hermione noted the address he used towards Draco. It was the same as Voldemort and the officiant; broken. The same word Tori had used, but he had said they, not we.
Hermione also tried to hold back a look of surprise at Dolohov’s words. This dress had been Narcissa Malfoys. They had made her wear his mother’s wedding dress to their forced wedding. An even deeper level of ridicule.
“Yes, my mother had excellent taste” Draco intoned, though it sounded a tight, struggling.
“It really is a shame she couldn’t be here today. Although it might be for the best. I’m sure neither of your parents would’ve been happy to see the last Malfoy sullying the line” Dolohov’s voice reeked of misplaced humor and firewhiskey.
Draco stared straight ahead again without giving an answer, causing Dolohov to sneer down at him, “Speak when I’m talking to you, broken. Our king has given you the honor of a wife. Always special even when you’re in with the filth. The least you can do is entertain us. How about a first dance!” while he had spat the other words towards Draco, he yelled the last part garnering even more attention towards them.
“A first dance for the happy couple!” Voldemort’s voice boomed through the room. Hermione would never forgive herself for not killing Dolohov in the Department of Mysteries when she had the chance. The man in question looked pleased as he sauntered away from their table.
Draco stood and held his hand out to her and everything in her wanted to revolt. She didn’t want this marriage, a fucking soulbond no less. She didn’t want to be captured, be forced to watch her friends being murdered. All Hermione Granger had ever wanted was a small place in the world and she had been punished instead. Her finger burned as she took his hand and she allowed herself to remember what he had done. Tiwaz, tiwaz, tiwaz.
As they took their place on the floor and the music started she realized just how much Dolohov had set them up to embarrass themselves. The train dragged behind her on the floor making it a struggle to do any turns without it twisting around her legs and Malfoy had to make a conscious effort not to step on it. Not to mention they were still fucking barefoot!
Hermione focused as he pushed her in the right steps, making them look somewhat graceful. Thank god one of them had actual training. The Yule ball had taught her enough to follow properly, though she was sure they wouldn’t give her that grace. The dance felt like it went on for hours and she and Draco stared blankly into each other's faces. Finally it came to an end and they stood in the middle of the dance floor while other couples rushed to dance.
The night droned on as they collected sneers and barbed comments from some of the guests. Hermione kept a look out for Tori and any of the other servants but they were like shadows slipping in between guests silently.
After hours of what she imagined purgatory to be, Voldemort rose, “Before our couple turns in for the night I’d like to make a toast. To Lugaz, may the cleansing begin” The others rose their glasses as a salute. The words chilled her sweating skin.
xXx
As they entered the room Hermione had been tossed in earlier, she saw that Draco didn’t look around like it had been his first time in the room. In fact, he headed straight for the bathroom. Tori showed up a few minutes behind them to help her out of her dress and undo her hair. When he came out of the bathroom, Tori and Draco shared a glance and then she was gone. No one had said anything, but it felt like more had been said between the two.
Hermione stood at the edge of the bed as Draco crawled in and turned his back from her without saying a word. She stood for a few minutes, just wondering what she should do. Her eyes were drooping more and more and if she didn’t make a decision soon then she was going to pass out while still standing.
“I’m not going to do anything to you” Draco called, voice muffled since his back was still turned. Hermione found herself knowing the words as truth, though there was no reason behind the logic. Sleep won out and she crawled into the other side. Sleep had its claws in her before she could even contemplate if she should’ve trusted him.
xXx
When Hermione woke in the morning, the room was empty. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself nor did she know the time so she decided to take another bath. As she sat in the tub warming her still aching body she reviewed the day before.
She had been dragged from her cell, told she was to marry Draco Malfoy. When Malfoy was dragged to her it was clear he wasn’t held in high regard. She was then given to Tori so they could primp and prime her. Tori had referred to herself as broken, a name that Draco had been addressed as throughout the night too. He and Tori also had a secret signal, for what she didn’t know. Tori had also told her to trust Draco.
They were not to just be married, but soul bound by a blood ritual. Voldemort had requested Lugaz as a part of the ritual. She was still very confused on why that one. She was assuming because of its reverse meaning, but he had already taken away their independence. He controlled them regardless of the rune. There was also the positive connotation of the rune. Psychosis and intuition… and cleansing. She remembered his toast at the end of the night.
But Malfoy hadn’t carved Lugaz. He had done Tiwaz. She didn’t know if it had been quick thinking or if he had known about the ceremony beforehand. Either way, she had to admit it was a moment of genius. Her thoughts fully drifted to the blonde who had shared the altar with her yesterday. Hermione had never seen someone look so vacant in their own body. But he wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t. She wasn’t crazy, she could see it in his eyes, when the gleam came to the surface. Someone so checked out wouldn’t have done what he did at the ceremony. Tori wasn’t gone either, even if she seemed invisible and meek around others. She wouldn’t have told Hermione to put her trust in Draco unless he was fully there.
She went over these statements as facts. Over and over again, replaying the memories in her head to see if she could catch anything to give her even further proof. Unless this had been an elaborate plan all along to get her to trust them by seeming vulnerable, things had changed insurmountably since their Hogwarts days. Unfortunately for them, it would take more than one day's worth of refraining from Malfoy calling her slurs and Tori answering some of her basic questions to gain Hermione’s full trust.
Pulling herself from the tub she decided it was time to search the room. It was obvious Malfoy had been in this room before, there was a good chance that this was actually his room. Since she was in need of some clothes, the closet would be the first to be searched. Her eyes widened at how big the closet really was. It was like a small mall inside, with tons of intricately designed robes and dresses on display. There was no way in hell that they had gone out and procured all of this for her, she thought as she started opening drawers at random. Hermione found the underwear drawer and saw cheap boyshort panties and flimsy looking bras with the price tag still on them and thanked the gods.
Quickly, she slipped on the underwear and then searched for something that didn’t cost a fortune. After tearing through the closet she found a pair of black cigarette trousers and a fitted black long sleeve shirt. They fit her fairly well and were probably the most casual she would be getting out of this wardrobe. But when she went to look for shoes she couldn’t find any. The closet had everything, fully equipped with all seasons of fashion, even jewelry, but no shoes.
Hermione decided to look further into the closet, following the niggle in the back of her brain. It just made no sense for them to have prepared this many clothes, and this lavish too. The underwear had been cheap, the fabric even a bit scratchy. That was what she had been expecting to be thrown into, so why have a whole closet ready for the mudblood? There also hadn’t been any mens clothing, so that ruled out this being Malfoy’s room unless he had a kink of secretly dressing in womens clothes.
They had dressed her in Narcissa Malfoy’s dress last night. Was there a chance those had been somebody else’s clothes as well? Had this room belonged to a woman before her? Old Gryffindor habits reared their head and she decided she needed to search the rest of the room for clues. Wasting no time, she tore into the room, looking for anything that stood out, but found no other clues as to whose room it had been before. She was careful to replace everything back the way it had been before hand just in case.
The rest of the day went by in slow motion. Lunch had magically appeared and then dinner as well. Hermione didn’t refuse the food, once again lamenting that if they wanted to poison her, they would’ve already. She had spent her day staring out onto the grounds, wishing she could feel the wind on her skin. She had been so focused on the ritual she hadn’t even thought that last night was the first time she had been outside in months. Now she was locked up again, unable to revel in the fresh air. But the view was much better than her cell would’ve ever allowed.
By the time nightfell she had resigned herself to go to bed early. After an obscene amount of courage building, Hermione stripped and looked at her body in the bathroom mirror. The mottled purple scar was still crawling up her side. The mudblood scar Bellatrix had carved into her left arm was still raised with scar tissue and was captivating in all the wrong ways. There were other small scars that littered her body, bruises from the previous beatings, but the main thing that bothered her was how skinny she had become.
It would be a lie to say she didn't look malnourished and ragged, she could count her ribs for Merlin's sake! Her face was gaunt just like Draco’s and Tori’s were. Bags colored her under eyes and she looked paler than Malfoy or Ron ever did. She saw herself in a mirror yesterday but had refused to register the differences until now. Her hair hung down her back. It had grown exponentially since she had been in captivity, in fact she didn’t think it had ever been this long. Surprisingly, it was the one thing she found she liked about her changed appearance. It was the one change that could’ve been a normal thing if a war never happened.
The biggest change had been her own eyes, the same as Draco. They looked dull and drained. They looked as tired as she felt. She reminded herself that this was what Voldemort and the other death eaters had wanted. Hermione had loved her eyes before, she could see the fire and determination in them when she looked in the mirror. It was a known saying that the eyes were the window to the soul, and to her they used to house all her strength.
She wondered if her eyes used to glow like an ember in the ashes, like the silver flashes she had seen from Malfoy. Hermione had vowed yesterday she would be free; make her imprisoners regret ever taking her. It was easy to forget the vow and it would be even easier to give up. Her finger tingled and she looked down. Tiwaz. Strength, justice, bravery.
Pulling her shoulders back she promised herself again that she would get out, she would uphold her vow. When she looked back up in the mirror she thought she saw the flame that had once burned so bright.
xXx
The next few days were a cycle of Malfoy coming to bed late at night and leaving before she got up. Hermione had woken up once when he had come to bed and asked what she was supposed to do, all he said was ‘don’t leave the room unless asked’ in that empty tone of his and rolled over. Honestly, she was surprised he even answered in the first place.
After searching the room for what felt like the hundredth time that day, she flopped onto the bed. As she threw herself back, she felt her leg catching on something sticking out of the mattress, eliciting her to let out a yelp as a sharp edge dug into her skin. Quickly, Hermione hopped off the bed in search of the offending item, only to see the corner of what looked like a brown leather book tucked in between the mattress and box spring.
Pulling the book out, a squeal escaped her. On their own accord her fingers swept across the embossed gold letters, The Complete History and Study of Occlumency and Legilimency: How to Build Your Defenses. She immediately recalled when Snape had tried to teach Harry occlumency. Even back then she had been interested in the subject, but had been so busy with other things at the time it had gotten pushed to the back burner.
When Hermione thought about it properly, occlumency really should’ve been taught more widely. It was kept a secret from what she gathered, only purebloods and halfbloods knowing the art well. She roughly swallowed as she wondered if Harry had pushed harder in the practice that maybe he would still be alive. Without preamble, she settled into one of the overstuffed arm chairs in front of the fireplace and cracked the book open.
The saying ‘the eyes are the window to the soul’ was derived from the art of legilimency and occlumency. Legilimency is required through eye contact and cannot be maintained without it. It is the art of looking into one’s mind. Being able to see one’s memories through their eyes is similar to a pensieve, except the memories are usually taken with force. Legilimency is defined as an offensive magic and is most often used aggressively. If the caster is not careful, the receiver can be in alarming amounts of pain.
Occlumency is the defense against legilimency. It is the act of protecting or hiding memories away from an attacker, effectively shutting the attacker out of the occlumens mind. These memories are usually filed away meticulously and extremely organized. Many natural born occlumens have described their memories being hidden behind doors, in filing cabinets, libraries, whatever is most comfortable and natural for the user. Occlumency is known to require extreme patience and to be able to hold a meditative state to learn. It also requires practice to be able to uphold shields to avoid an unexpected attack on the mind.
Occlumency can also be used to contain one's emotions, often giving the occlumens a neutral or nonchalant look. Retreating behind one’s defenses or ‘walls’ can help conceal true thoughts which is very useful when one doesn’t want to look animated or give away their true emotions. It is noted that the biggest physical change is in the eyes. Similar to the look of nonchalance, the eyes are said to become detached or lifeless.
Usually an occlumens is able to perform legilimency but leans stronger towards their natural defenses instead of the invasive magic. Same can be said for legilimens, while they are known to also have shields of defense they are much more likely to attack than defend.
Hermione pulled away from the page. Why had there been a book about occlumency tucked into her side of the bed? It most certainly had not been there before, she had just checked under the mattress two days ago. As far as she knew the only other person in this room had been Malfoy. She revisited the part about an occlumens eyes. Detached or lifeless. Was he trying to tell her he was occluding?
Brushing it off. she continued. She had always wanted to learn the art and if she was planning to escape she had a feeling it would do her well to learn.
xXx
Occlumency was much harder than Hermione had originally thought it to be. She could understand why Harry had detested the lessons so much and she hadn’t even had anybody trying to attack her mind like Snape had. The meditative state had been easy to achieve as she had no outside factors bothering her, but filing her memories away was like trying to run underwater. It was slow, making her out of breath, and she was getting annoyed.
Hermione had decided to go for a maze. That way if someone was to ever breach her ‘walls’ or first line defense as the book had put it, they’d still have to search for anything worthwhile. She had also found she could rearrange the hedge at will so she could cause a perpetrator to get lost while she gathered the strength to fully push them out.
It had now been closing in on two weeks since her marriage to Malfoy and he hadn’t spoken more than fifteen words to her. Her days were swallowed whole by the practice of occlumency. She had become consumed with it, allowing her to feel like she was doing something worthwhile.
Hermione had been sitting on her self proclaimed arm chair when Tori knocked and entered the room. “You’ve been called to attend a ball tonight” the blonde girl said, her lips in a thin line. No amount of occlumency could hide the horror that came across Hermione’s face.