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The Apprentice	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 62961 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
The Apprentice

Chapter Ten

‘Why can’t you just be proud of me?’ asked Draco, his voice raised slightly.

He and his mother stood face-to-face in the centre of their drawing room. It was luxuriously decorated. A large crystalline chandelier hung from the high ceiling. A family painting in a gold-embossed frame was situated above the hearth. The hearth itself was obscured from sight by a decorative glass screen, displaying an oriental scene in all kinds of beautifully bright colours. The magnificent carpet was so thick your feet sank several inches into it and everywhere there were ornate, gilded furnishings visible, as well as expensive leather chairs and sofas. One of them contained the proud figure of Bellatrix Lestrange. She sat straight in the leather chair closest to the hearth, her eyes keenly following everything that happened.

But the grandeur of neither the room nor the present company was hardly of consequence at the moment, for mother and son were having a significant row.

‘I am proud of you, Draco, I always will be,’ Narcissa said, grabbing both his shoulders. ‘But you need the help; this is Albus Dumbledore we are talking about.’

‘The Dark Lord chose me for this job, me!’ Draco said, pulling away from his mother’s grasp angrily. ‘If he thinks I can do it, why can’t my own mother?’

Narcissa sighed. ‘Sweetheart, your aunt Bella and I went to great lengths to get Severus’s help.’

Draco snorted haughtily. ‘To great lengths,’ he sneered. ‘He is just trying to steal my glory, like he stole dad’s!’

‘The boy is right,’ Bella said; her eyes shining feverishly; her left leg, which she had crossed over her right, moved restlessly up and down – contained energy waiting to explode into violence. ‘The Dark Lord chose him. It is a great honour.’

‘You stay out of this,’ Narcissa hissed, holding up her palm to Bella.

‘No-no,’ Draco said, shaking his head, pointing his finger at his aunt. ‘I want to hear what she thinks.’

Bella rose from her chair majestically. Slowly, she walked toward him; her hips swaying in her green silk dress. ‘You should do it, Draco. Think about how the Dark Lord will reward you and your family when you succeed.’

Narcissa let out an inarticulate noise.

‘Mother,’ Draco said reproachfully. He hadn’t liked the interruption; but he needn’t worry, Bella was unstoppable anyway.

‘Think of the glory,’ Bella whispered in his ear, stalking around him. ‘The power,’ she hissed, leaning into his other ear. ‘You’ll become his most trusted servant; perhaps even second-in-command when you kill Albus Dumbledore.’

‘Then why for Salazar’s sake don’t you do it?’ Narcissa sneered, putting her hands in her sides aggravated.

‘If the Dark Lord had wished me to, I would be most pleased to perform this duty; but he has chosen not to bestow me with this incredible honour,’ Bella said, sounding slightly put-off.

‘Incredible honour,’ Narcissa snorted sarcastically. ‘Suicide you mean.’

‘See, I knew you didn’t believe in me!’ Draco yelled.

‘No, sweetie, no, that’s not what I meant,’ Narcissa denied, looking at her son hopelessly.

‘Then what did you mean, Cissy?’ asked Bella sweetly. ‘Are you saying the Dark Lord is wrong in his assessment of your son?’

Narcissa’s shoulders dropped. If she told Bella what she really thought of the Dark Lord’s motives, Bella would single-handedly strangle her, slowly. And Draco, Draco would be so scared if he saw the truth behind his mission. Her eyes darted desperately between Draco and Bella, hoping to think of something to say to change the outcome of this discussion, to make Draco listen to reason. But the Dark Lord had got truly into her son's head, there would be no talking him out of it now. All she wanted was for him to turn to Severus, to let Severus help him, but she was losing the argument and she could feel it.

‘See the look on her face, Draco,’ Bella said softly. ‘She really believes you can’t do it. Show her she is wrong. Show her who the man is in this household. Show her you have the blood of a Black in your veins. Show her the Dark Lord and I are right in believing you are wizard enough for this assignment. Show her,’ she hissed, stalking back to her chair and sitting down in it with a maniacal glint in her eyes.

‘I don’t want any help,’ Draco decided, determined.

‘Draco,’ Narcissa objected.

‘No mother, I can do this. I will have loads of opportunity to achieve it, because I am his…’

‘His what?’ asked Narcissa, puzzled.

Draco shook his head and said, ‘Not important. The Dark Lord knows; it’s why he chose me. I want to do this myself. I have to do this myself.’

Bella smiled, satisfied. ‘If that’s true, I can assist you in preventing Severus from finding out what you plan to do. I can teach you how to occlude your mind to him if you like?’

‘Yes,’ Draco said, nodding his head eagerly.

‘Bella, we ask Severus for his help,’ Narcissa repeated. ‘You performed the Unbreakable Vow yourself.’

‘You asked for Severus’s help. I merely made sure helping would be his only option.’ Bella rose from her chair again and looked at Draco. ‘We will have to start as early as possible. Have you read any of your father’s books on this subject?’

Draco shook his head.

‘Then do so today. We will start your first lesson tomorrow at three in the afternoon,’ Bella said, grabbing the door handle and opening it.

‘Draco, Severus can assist you; you can still take credit even if he helps,’ Narcissa tried. As Draco walked out the door, ignoring her, she shouted out after him, ‘Severus doesn’t want to steal your glory!’

Angry, Narcissa looked at her sister. ‘Thanks for the help, sis. You know it’s in the Dark Lord’s best interest if Draco receives assistance. He can never take on Albus Dumbledore on his own.’

‘The Dark Lord believes Draco can. He said the boy is a great wizard, much better than his father, and the Dark Lord knows. You need to have more faith in your son. I think he is handling the situation with the true pride of a Black,’ Bella stated proudly. ‘Besides, I don’t trust Severus’s assistance, Cissy, I told you this before.

‘Severus took the Unbreakable Vow and still you don’t trust him?’ Narcissa asked, baffled.

Bella leaned back, her hand still holding onto the door, which made her body swing sideways. A wicked glint in her eyes, she smiled, ‘Which is exactly why I made him take an Unbreakable Vow. Now, all he can do is die,’ she spat, ‘should he dare to betray us and our Lord.’

Her insane cackle still echoed through the entire house until long after she left.

Thoroughly defeated, Narcissa plummeted in a nearby armchair. She stared around the empty room, hoping for assistance from something, someone. Finally she looked at her hands. ‘But it’s Albus Dumbledore,’ she repeated helplessly.

---

After several days of seeing no one, Hermione hadn’t been in the mood anymore to really dress for company. So, she wore one of her baggiest grey sweatpants, accompanied with a royal-blue tank top. A matching vest belonged with the sweats, but it lay forgotten on her bed; it had been too hot to wear it too. She was utterly surprised when she saw Lord Voldemort standing there; she hadn’t heard the locks of the door open nor observed anything else that could have alerted her to his arrival. Yet, he was clearly here, holding the book she had just furiously thrown away to relieve some of the tension she was feeling. A move, which didn’t make her feel much better now.

‘Are you always this careless with other people’s belongings?’ asked Voldemort, examining the book in his hand.

Geezzz, pot, kettle, black – ring any bells?

‘Fortunately for you, this one is not mine,’ he added casually, and tossed “Legilimency, The Basics” over his shoulder.

The prosecution rests, Your Honour.

‘Whose is it then?’ she asked curiously.

‘Trying to get a clue as to where you are?’ he asked tauntingly. ‘I am surprised you haven’t figured it out yet; someone of your assumed intelligence should have been able to determine it by now.’

‘Yes, because I have seen so much of this place already,’ Hermione replied sarcastically.

‘Well, if you want to run into my followers and complicate matters for yourself, I’ll be happy to give you a grand tour of the mansion. But perhaps you should try a more direct approach with your questions. I find that usually gets the right answers much quicker.’

Yeah, she bet he did.

‘It’s not like you’re going to tell me,’ she said instead.

He shrugged. ‘It’s not like you’re going anywhere.’

‘Okay,’ said Hermione, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender in the air before placing them in her sides bossily. ‘Where am I?’

Lord Voldemort gave her a brief, amused glance and didn’t reply; he just strolled leisurely around the room, coming to a halt in front of the dresser her beaded bag was on. Hermione folded her arms; her eyes darted up and down his long frame, until meeting his creepy red, slit-pupil eyes in the huge mirror in front of him.

What was it with Slytherins and black robes?

‘They make you look thinner,’ quipped the Dark Lord.

Shocked, she averted her eyes. Crap, he’d been in her mind and she hadn’t realised it.

Voldemort opened her bag and smirked when he noticed, she had yet to unpack. Everything was still in there, except for the books, scrolls and writing supplies she was using and had stationed on her desk. ‘Ready for a quick getaway?’ he mocked, turning around and approaching her slowly.

It was obviously a rhetorical question, so she didn’t reply. She also wasn’t foolish enough to look him in his eyes again. Hermione stared pointedly at one of the bedpost on her left when he stopped right in front of her. She tensed when he raised his hands and placed them on her bare shoulders – they were surprisingly warm, coming from someone with such a serpentine exterior, and they felt very familiar. It reminded her of her dream; scratch that, nightmare.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, moving her out of the way gently.

Confused by his polite actions, Hermione allowed herself to be let to the side and she stood there, blinking, trying to grasp what was going on. He picked up her writings and scanned through them quickly, before he tucked them into a pocket inside his robe. Next, he pulled out her wand. ‘You’ll be needing this,’ he said, holding it out to her.

Hermione blinked and gazed at her wand in surprise. He was giving it back to her? What on earth was going on? Was she in some kind of alternate reality or what? Well, she was wearing a tank top after all, so anything was possible.

Still, she accepted her wand quickly before he would come to his senses and change his mind. But she wasn’t really sure what she was supposed to do when he turned his back to her and walked away. Talk about your hell of a tempting, incredibly scary opportunity. It had to be a trap of some sort. She felt almost relieved about the opportunity disappearing when he moved around to face her, a couple of feet away. That was until she noticed he was, now too, carrying his wand in his hand, holding it loosely to the side.

‘I take it you’ve read and memorised the books I gave you,’ Voldemort said in a tone that clearly didn’t expect to be challenged.

Hermione nodded hesitantly – not sure she wanted to find out where this situation was going to lead to.

‘There are several stages in performing Legilimency, each involving an attack into the other’s mind at different levels. All those stages require a form of Occlumency which is designed to adequately respond to the variation of the Legilimency attack. There is, however, one commonality in all those defences; did you identify it?’

‘Avoid eye contact,’ Hermione answered, scratching her neck nervously with her wand-free hand.

‘Yes, eye contact is essential to perform Legilimency. When-’

‘But?’ Hermione halted, frowning.

‘What?’

‘I didn’t have eye contact with you when you identified I was upset with Professor Dumbledore,’ she said, puzzled.

A smirk erupted on Voldemort’s white, snakelike face. ‘As I told you back then, I didn’t need to perform Legilimency to deduce it. Any fool can put two and two together. Your body language screamed discomfort, which meant it wasn’t really your first choice to be there, despite your rather… impolite invitation. Considering I was made your “guide”, it is obvious as to why. It is also obvious you would have gone to Albus for his assistance in your predicament, which he could not have given and that would piss off even a saint.’

‘You guessed it? What if I just had a fight with someone else and had been upset over that?’

‘Did you?’ he said mockingly.

‘No, but-,’ she shrugged.

‘One of the advantages of being a known Master at Legilimency is that people assume you can see every single one of their secrets. It causes them to fear you tremendously. If you, then, take some time studying body language and use your common sense, you are able to deduce an awful lot without magic. If you deduce these things (especially on first contact with someone), it will further enhance their belief your skill is frighteningly enormous and they will be even less inclined to try to lie to you, which saves me the bother of having to invade every dolt’s mind to screen their pathetic and unoriginally boring thoughts,’ he said, sniggering.

‘So you bluff?’ Hermione said disbelievingly; and she shook her head, baffled.

‘What you call bluff, I’d call using one’s intelligence,’ he replied smugly. ‘People are unimaginatively predictable in their behaviour. If you can spot a lie without magic, Hermione, why waste the energy?’

Hermione just stared at him. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It took her quite some effort to not let her jaw drop and stand there, with her mouth open, looking like an idiot; but she managed, just.

‘For instance, science determined that the eyes of people who lie to you turn upward to the left,’ Voldemort lectured on. ‘People, who tell you the truth, have their eyes focusing on the right side of their brain.’

‘Because they are trying to remember,’ Hermione added, drawing out of her stupor. ‘For lying you need to access your creative side of the brain, which lies to the left.’

‘Exactly. Finally some sign you actually read the books I gave you.’

She narrowed her eyes.

‘Now back to real Legilimency. As I said there are several stages, all reaching-’

‘-into the brain at a different layer, depending on the severity of the Legilimency attack,’ Hermione quoted, folding her arms over each other, glaring at him. Really, she had read that book also. She had nothing to do for the past few days but sit on her arse and read. So, why was he wasting her time going over this bullshit again?

Lord Voldemort moved his arms behind his back and stared back. ‘Hogwarts,’ he casually commented, wand still in hand.

What? Hermione looked at him, puzzled. What did Hogwarts have to do with their discussion on the stages of Legilimency? Talk about your out-of-the-blue change in subject.

‘The castle seen from the boats, the view from the Astronomy Tower, the library, Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter, and the oaf in his hut.’

Hermione gaped at him. Those were the things which meant Hogwarts to her; though she would never describe Hagrid as an oaf. Why? What? How? He’d been in her mind and she hadn’t noticed, again! Crap. She averted her eyes immediately.

‘Ah, finally a sensible action,’ he said approvingly. ‘However,’ his wand flashed.

Suddenly, she had no more control over her body. Her head moved on its own, and she couldn’t do anything but look into his eyes, despite the wand in her hand. Her mind was screaming at her to look away; terror flooded through her body; and yet, she kept looking straight into his gaze.

‘As you see, the defence of avoiding eye contact is only useful to some extend; but will do if you’re not alone with Dumbledore,’ Voldemort said calmly. He stepped towards her and grabbed her jaw threateningly. ‘Reading is not the same as experiencing. Do not question my methods again. Is that clear?’

‘Y-yes,’ she stuttered fearfully.

‘Good.’

He paused for a moment and removed his hand, brushing her curls in the process. However, he kept the hex in place that forced her to keep meeting his eyes, as he continued instructing.

‘The first stage of Legilimency brings you into the short-term memory of your victim. Its uses are primarily given in it being virtually undetectable as you’ve noticed. This gives an attacker the chance to browse someone’s memory multiple times at any given situation without being compromised in doing so. One has to be a Master at Occlumency to identify the breach and only a mere few ever reach that level of skill after years and years of training. Since I doubt you want to spend years being cooped up in here, we will not be focusing on gaining you the ability to identify a Stage One Legilimency attack; our focus will lie strictly on learning you to repel one continuously.’

He started circling her and she moved with him, her eyes never leaving his. She had no choice in the matter.

‘Another important aspect you need to be aware of with this first stage of Legilimency, Hermione, is that it gives its performer a quick insight into what his victim values most about any given trigger. I said Hogwarts and your memory placed those images which are most important to you belonging to that trigger at the forefront of your mind.’

He stopped walking, halting their almost dance-like movement, and continued his speech softly.

‘There are also a couple of huge downsides to this type of Legilimency. It hands the performer only brief flashes, which can be quite meaningless on their own. For instance, when I said Hogwarts to you, the visuals your memory supplied me with did not tell me it’s a magical school. So, if I knew nothing of Hogwarts and you, I’d have no use for those memories at all. I might even have thought I’d accessed the wrong short-term memory and that you did not respond to my trigger.

This is also the other downside to Stage One Legilimency; short-term memories are very fleeting, you have to be alert to catch the right visuals with your trigger, Also, due to their transient nature, it’s almost impossible to link the right emotion to them.

Tell me, Hermione,’ he whispered, stepping so close she had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact. Heat radiated against her, despite the lack of contact. She realised it was the sheer force of his magic, which swarmed around her. ‘If it’s impossible to avoid eye contact, how would you defend yourself against-?’ he traced her neckline with his wand and added, grinning wickedly when she shivered, ‘-such an attack?’

She nearly panicked when the meaning of his words finally sank in. Shit, he was going through her mind again. Ermmm, what had she read about defence again? Oh yeah, you had to keep the attacker away from the trigger he wanted to observe. But how could you do that if you had no idea what he was fishing for to find or that he was fishing at all?

Keep changing the subject in your mind!

Short-term memory is quickly erased when it’s supplied with new input. You needed to think of all kinds of different things. No not Harry! Not the Weasleys either. Crap, now she thought of her parents. Harry saving Sirius with his Patronus. Nice Order Members. Harry talking to her, gesturing with his arms in clear aggravation. Ginny walking by with a little black book in her hands. Harry, this time on his broom evading the dragon. Oh great, Granger, brilliant, will you stop thinking of information he is not supposed to be privileged to! Harry speaking Parseltongue.’

‘Trying hard NOT to think of things I shouldn’t know about?’ Voldemort stated, amused.

Her pupils dilated. How did he reach that conclusion?

‘I am seeing Potter far too many times,’ he grinned, answering the question she didn’t vocalise.

She opened her mouth, but he shushed her with his finger on her lips before she spoke. ‘Keep trying,’ he ordered.

But she didn’t know what to think about! Her mind raced, more flashes of Harry. Crap, crap, crap. She was useless, utterly useless at things like this. She could do the theory, but she didn’t have Harry’s instinct to think on her feet. Oh no, now she thought of Harry again! She was such a failure. The possibility of fail grades, her panic attacks before exams, her inability to repel her Boggart at her practical third year D.A.D.A. final, crying in the bathroom for not having any friends.’

Voldemort shook her violently. ‘Now you are giving me weapons to use against you, Granger; try to be a bit smarter in your choices. You’re going about them fast enough, but you’re still keeping it to one theme, which in itself makes it possible for me to link your emotions to them. Alternate between innocent subjects.’

Innocent subjects? But she didn’t have any innocent subjects, everything in her life revolved around the fight against Him. Quirrell, The Chamber of Secrets has been opened – enemies of the heir beware, The Dark Mark in the sky at the World Cup, two yellow eyes in her mirror.’

‘Oh for crying out loud, you’re not even trying,’ Voldemort said, letting out a frustrated hiss in annoyance. His wand flashed and he swirled away.

Suddenly able to move again, which she was totally unprepared for, made Hermione stumble a couple of steps backwards. She bumped into her desk. ‘I am trying,’ she hissed angrily at his back. ‘My mind just drew a blank on innocent subjects.’

‘Recite the alphabet, count to one-hundred or more, name all the Potions you know, start making Arithmancy equations in your mind, make lists of colours, countries, rivers, cities, other geographical locations, stars, breeds of dogs, dragons, all magical creatures.’ He turned around abruptly, and asked tauntingly, ‘Is this enough material or does your feeble mind need me to hand you more clues to consider?’

Blood rushed to her face. Well, if he put it like that, it sounded simple enough.

‘But it is not simple, Hermione Granger; perhaps you need a little lesson to be bit more … motivated?’

He, slowly, caressed his wand in a contemplating manner, while speaking that last word; and all the blood that had just rushed to her face fled the scene quickly. Something the rest of her body was incapable of doing. A chill fell upon her. She tensed, clutching to her wand, remembering the total ineffectiveness her Shield Charm had against him. Not to mention that Unforgivables were unstoppable anyway.

‘I am motivated. I don’t want to be stuck here forever. I want to learn this.’ She rushed out the sentences, until she no longer knew what to say. ‘I-I…’

His eyes moved away from his wand and he looked at her quietly.

‘Let me try again; please,’ she added the last word quickly. No harm in being polite if it could prevent you from experiencing the Cruciatus Curse. ‘I’ll do better.’

His gaze bore into hers, seemingly weighing her resolve. After what felt like forever, he inclined his head. ‘Very well, but let’s get this clear between us, I am not in the habit of repeating myself endlessly.’

Yeah, that much she gathered.

He gestured with his hand for her to come to him and she listened, stopping in front of him. He cupped her cheek, lifting her head, and the same hex struck her. They started again.

Hermione soon came to realise that cities or other geographical locations were risky; because her mind began to dwell on things she had seen and done there. So, she finally stuck to counting numbers, reciting the alphabet or doing Arithmancy equations in her mind. Arithmancy always had been her favourite subject and nothing else could occupy her mind when she was entranced in her calculations. It was silent for a very, very long time when suddenly he spoke.

‘Have a seat,’ Voldemort offered.

A seat? Was it over? No, he hadn’t undone the hex. Why would he want them to sit down? What was he planning?

‘Your mind is yet again supplying me with crystal-clear, chronological images of what you are thinking,’ he replied warningly.

Oh, that’s why.

They sat down. Now, where was she? She hit her head with her hand. That didn’t matter. Just start over. One, two, three. Crap, it was a lot harder if you actually had to pay attention to other things as well. Er – one, two, three.

‘Something to drink?’ Voldemort asked, eyeing her sharply.

Four, five, six. Drink? Tea or coke? Seven. She felt a bit chilly. Eight, nine. ‘Tea would be nice.’

‘Sugar?’ he teased.

Damn, this was hard. Nine, eight, seven. ‘No thanks,’ she responded hastily, causing him to smirk. Nine, ten.

He leaned toward her and reached for her hands.

What was he doing? Six, seven, six.

He placed the cup in her hands, knowing she couldn’t follow the movement with her eyes at the moment.

Oh. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

Ten, twelve, no eleven. Terrific, now, she couldn’t count anymore. Eleven, twelve, thirteen. Is that a headache coming up? Fourteen, fifteen.

She took a sip. Mmm… delicious – er – Where was she again? One, two, three.

Voldemort leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles over one another and stretching out his arms above his head, before placing his hands (still holding his wand) behind his head. Lounging comfortably, he started a conversation with a devious grin on his face. He felt this was turning out to be quite entertaining. The hilarious things she thought at times! It had been hard to keep his face blank. The girl’s mind was pretty sardonic.

Every now and then, he checked the time, while trying to distract her from her attempts to keep him from extracting anything useful out of her thoughts. She did pretty reasonable for a first time try. Even more so if you took under consideration, they were already long past the moment most people would have keeled over. He could see she was certainly getting tired, but her mind kept up the process of interlacing her thoughts with useless number counting.

The problem he was currently facing was that he had to know the boundaries of her mind as well as make sure to stop before she failed. He’d read her file and seen enough in her mind to know that would not be helpful in her case. She’d take it personally. In fact if he wanted to destroy this witch, it wouldn’t be too hard. She was very insecure for someone that bright. Yes, he had to stop now. The boundaries would have to come at a later date. He wasn’t about to ruin someone who could become quite useful to him and had this much potential.

His wand flashed, undoing the hex. He watched quietly how she sighed in relief, blinked and averted her eyes. Her hands went to her head, and she rubbed her eyes before massaging her fingers through her hair all the way to the back of her neck. Headache no doubt.

‘Not bad, not bad at all,’ he praised her, making sure not to overdo it. He didn’t want to arouse any suspicion. ‘The longest anyone has ever lasted against me, and I had to end it, for I have a meeting to attend to in a couple of minutes. We will have to time the exact duration you can withstand me in the near future. It’s always a useful thing to know your limitations, especially if you might be confronted with an interrogation situation someday.’

Hermione groaned with her head almost between her knees.

Considering the things he’d witnessed her think before, he was confident all sorts of pretty darn less charitable thoughts about him were making their way through the girl’s mind right now.

To his surprise, however, (since most people did their absolute best to avoid his gaze after he had spent some time attacking their minds) Hermione looked up and faced him, placing her hands in her lap as she leaned back in her chair. ‘If Stage One Legilimency is relatively non-invasive, then why am I exhausted right now?’

He smiled. ‘Au contraire to the other forms of Legilimency, it only costs the victim energy if he or she tries to stop the attacker from gaining the information.’

‘So, if I just let you browse away, I’d be fine?’

‘Yes, with this type you would. It’s the concentration it takes to constantly remind yourself what to think that makes this defence tiring to both the body and mind.’

‘You said, “Au contraire to other forms of Legilimency”,’ Hermione inquired questioningly.

He nodded calmly. ‘With all the other forms, the attack in itself is draining on its victim whether you try to stop it from happening or not.’

Oh goody, something to look forward to.

He smirked, picking up the wayward thought and seeing her sudden pale face and the distinct manner in which she fiddled with her hands in her lap. She obviously was not looking forward to their next lesson. He rose from his chair and placed his hand on her shoulder. Hermione looked up; the question etched on her face.

‘You did surprisingly well today. Don’t worry about tomorrow,’ he said reassuringly. He squeezed her shoulder gently and turned away. ‘I’ll take a look at what you wrote for your assignment,’ he said, walking to the door calmly. ‘And we can discuss your answers tomorrow too.’ He opened the door and looked back at her. ‘Get some rest, and don’t try anything foolish with your wand. Without my mark, these wards,’ his eyes darted the air around him, checking to see if the strength of his wards were to his satisfaction one last time, before he said, ‘are quite damaging to the human body.’

Hermione nodded silently.

Lord Voldemort locked the door behind him. Contemplating the situation, he took a deep breath. He’d been right to stop when he did. It wouldn’t surprise him if she fell asleep right now and slept till morning. She’d been far more exhausted than she appeared on first glance. He had to make sure to remember this detail about her. With Stage Three Legilimency he couldn’t afford any slip-ups. Though he had never put someone into the permanent ward of St. Mungo’s by accident, he didn’t want to start with her.

As he walked away, he wondered how long it would take her to try something “unfavourable” with her wand. He had deliberately turned his back or otherwise given her an opening to make a move on him, but he had to give the girl credit for her self-restraint. She certainly wasn’t your everyday Gryffindor fool, who would have taken the first shot he got and lost everything because of his impatience. No, she was definitely buying her time for the right opportunity – how very Slytherin of her. He sniggered. She’d be in for a real nasty surprise when that opportunity would present itself, a real nasty surprise.
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The Apprentice