The next three weeks flew by much quicker than Hermione’s liking.

She found that though she enjoyed having a focus – a purpose – legilimency was more difficult than she could have anticipated. In many ways it reminded her of divination as there was much guesswork involved as to how to access this particular set of skills, but was grateful for all the texts that the Malfoy library held on the subject.

The day following her meeting with the Dark Lord, after breakfast Narcissa took Hermione, helped along by Draco, into a small parlor off of Lucius’ study. It was comfortable and cozy, decorated in creams and deep blues with an overstuffed loveseat, a few chairs, and what looked like a small games table and a writing desk. Narcissa had flicked her wand and two chairs dragged themselves into the middle of the room facing one another.

Draco kept one arm around her waist, as Hermione’s legs were still wobbly after the cruciatus curse – something Lucius had said that morning would improve as she built strength in their dueling lessons. It didn’t exactly comfort her, given that the connotation seemed to be that she would more than likely be experiencing the curse again.

“May I stay, mother?” Draco asked respectfully, placing a hand on the back of Hermione’s chair once she had been settled.

“Not now, darling,” Narcissa answered, circling her own chair to sit.

They were close enough that Narcissa’s knees brushed Hermione’s as the older woman settled her robes around her and gave her son an imperious look.

“I want to help,” Draco said a bit petulantly, gripping the back of the chair tighter.

“You – and Theo – will, but not until Hermione has mastered the basics.” Her blue eyes flared as she stared at him. “Do you understand?”

Draco appeared to deflate as he recognized the no nonsense look on her face and nodded once. He bowed once to his mother formally before brushing his lips across Hermione’s forehead and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch. He’d cared for her all during the night, waking her from nightmares and holding her close, calling for Fimsy for another calming draft and a cool rag.

Though she hated to feel so reliant on others, if there was anyone she would want to take care of her, it was Draco. She also had a horrible feeling that they would be taking care of each other in this fashion quite often in the future.

Once he had taken his leave, Narcissa’s back straightened slightly and her focus narrowed. She spent the next hour coaxing Hermione through visualizations as abstract from:

Imagine a beam of light connecting our minds.

To as concrete as:

Picture a bridge made of glass.

Hermione’s whole body shook with exertion as she tried – and failed – to create a connection of their minds. Her eyes itched with tiredness as she fought to keep Narcissa’s gaze.

Finally when they were approaching their second hour, only taking a break to drink some tea and nibble on the small sandwiches Humph had provided, Narcissa’s face broke into a smile.

“Let’s try something else, yes?”

Hermione blinked, wondering at the look on the woman’s face. She had to admit she was more frustrated than the situation warranted. She was used to always being the best at things, used to magic coming relatively easily to her. This felt like something else entirely.

Narcissa rose from her chair and gestured for Hermione to follow through the large French doors that opened into the grounds. The summer air was warm on her skin and she sighed, letting herself take in a deep lungful of air. The air was thick with the scent of freshly mowed grass and flowers, which intensified as they approached the rose garden.

“I thought perhaps a change of venue might help,” Narcissa said, gesturing toward the stone bench Hermione usually favored when she ventured out there.

They sat close together and Narcissa took Hermione’s hands in hers.

“Take a deep breath,” she instructed.

Hermione did.

“I want you to think of the most logical means of connecting your mind to mine.”

Hermione thought. After a few moments where she let her eyes drift over the swinging blossoms in the breeze, she remembered when her parents had taken her to the circus as a child. Her favorite act had been the tightrope. She had watched on bated breath, clutching her father’s arm painfully, the artists tiptoed across the thin wire. Something clicked within her mind and her magic responded. She visualized a thin metal wire that unfurled and connected to Narcissa. Then, her mental self slowly traveled the line.

At the edge she paused, before imagining jumping to the other side.

She saw a large drawing room, similar to the one in the manor, and a younger Narcissa standing in the center with her hands clasped in front of her.

“Very good,” the younger Narcissa said. “Come with me.”

The woman turned in a swish of soft blue robes, opening a large oak door and guiding her through a sumptuous hallway. It was clad in bright golds rather than silver, and dark drapery hung from the windows.

“Where are we?” Hermione asked.

“The Black Estate, where I grew up,” Narcissa answered, gesturing with an airy hand towards a small door that popped into existence in front of them.

Hermione gasped when the door clicked open. It did not lead to another wing of the house, but instead was a portal to a quiet forest right at twilight, a dark wide lake standing a few meters from them, rippling in a gentle breeze.

“As an accomplished legilimens and occlumens I am able to craft an image for you to see,” Narcissa explained, her feet silent on the thick grass as they walked. “Unless someone has been trained in occlumency it will not be like this. I crafted an entryway for you, if you will, to appear as my childhood home. Instead, it will be much more disorganized with thoughts, feelings, and memories swirling around you. As you become more adept in this skill, you will be able to bring the information you need to the surface.”

Narcissa stopped at the bank of the lake. The forest around them was thick with trees, some leaves turning gold in the dying light of the sun and Hermione wondered if Narcissa’s forest was in perpetual autumn.

Kneeling down, the woman brushed her fingertips to the water’s edge, watching the way the ripples cascaded away from her.

“These are my thoughts, my fears, and my most guarded memories,” she said quietly. “With those trained in occlumency, there will be a hidden part of their mind that holds this kind of information – much like the tome we created inside your own mental library. If I had not been guiding you, you would have been unable to find this place.”

Hermione tilted her head in confusion.

“Why are you showing me, then?”

Narcissa straightened and turned to her, placing a soft hand on her forearm.

“To show you that though you may learn to enter someone’s mind, there is always a way to hide if you know the skill well enough.”

…

After that first lesson things became a little easier for Hermione, though it took much mental focus in order to perform the act. Narcissa did not seem bothered by this fact, however, and told her confidently it would come in time.

“The Dark Lord wants to know you can access a mind. He does not expect perfection.”

Theo and Draco were just as busy as Hermione, it seemed. While she and Narcissa were busy with legilimency, Lucius schooled both Theo and Draco not only on potions but on protective spells and enchantments which the boys then in turn taught to Hermione in their free time.

The three of them would unite in the afternoons under Lucius’ watchful eye where, in the attitude of a war general, he would train them on defensive spells and curses.

He created mazes in the grounds for them to run through with magical boobytraps they had to dismantle or fight. More than once, both Hermione and Theo had been stunned – Draco alone seemed to have a natural aptitude for anticipating an attack, though Theo seemed the most promising when it came to throwing off different curses like the imperius.

Hermione had her own natural skills and talent, mainly for casting the defensive charms and curses. By the end of the first week, she had developed a love of the diffindo charm that generally was used to sever physical items, she found lent itself well in dueling.

Though they never were physically harmed, Lucius had modified what Hermione considered to be a rather ingenious protego charm – cast as protego superficies – to allow the curse to hit the opponent and flash red. While it did not harm them, it did create a slight electric shock that increased with the severity of the spell that had been cast.

Lucius was always stern to the point of cruelty with the trio during their training sessions. Never allowing for a moment of weakness to seep through his serious mask. When Draco had pointed out that they were merely teenagers, Lucius had turned sharply towards him, his eyes burning in the bright afternoon sun.

“You cannot be both Draco. You are either a child or a man . Make your decision now.”