She blinked, tucking them away.

Narcissa moved through the sitting area, crossing to the windows.

"I always thought of my sister as eccentric," she said. "But most don't have the luxury of seeing her that way." A long sigh. "These days, she is unpredictable and dangerous — even to me. But I do promise that I will do everything in my power to manage the situation this evening."

A book shivered on a high shelf, and Hermione gasped as her pages fluttered open to freckles and spearmint and the Gryffindor common room. She screwed her eyes shut, breathing steadily until it closed.

Her eyelids flickered open, and she found Narcissa staring at her, her expression soft and concerned.

"I've heard that Ron Weasley is being kept at the Lestrange Estate," Hermione said dully.

Narcissa took a sharp breath. "Mr. Weasley is being held at Rabastan's property. You won't see him tonight."

She nodded and tucked the information away, staring out her windows. The heavy, earthy tome smelling of spearmint was still.

"Hermione," Narcissa said gently. "Just try your best. My sister already has a sense of your accommodations and your treatment, and I'm sure she's told her husband as well. If anything slips through, I will handle it."

She nodded again, eyes fixed on the pond outside. The calm waters that rippled with the breeze.

"In fact," Narcissa continued, "the one thing she cannot find out is that you have learned Occlumency."

Hermione blinked. A shelf collapsed in her mind, and she flinched when another nearly followed.

She turned to find Narcissa's shrewd eyes on her. Hermione rubbed her temples, tumbling the idea around her sore mind.

"Because then she would know that my magic isn't suppressed," she surmised. "That you haven't been giving me the potions."

Narcissa nodded. "She's kept several things to herself, but her willingness to look the other way depends on her believing you're under lock and key."

Narcissa broke off, asking her something, but Hermione couldn't process the words. Her body felt flimsy and numb, her brain dizzy. Her knees began to buckle, and Narcissa flew to her side, helping her sit in a chair. She called for Mippy, and Hermione pressed her eyes closed, her head pounding. Mippy returned with a potion, and Narcissa helped her drink it. Once Hermione's vision stopped blurring, Narcissa poured them both tea and took a seat across from her, perched on the edge of her cushion.

"So what am I supposed to do when she tries to read my mind?" Hermione set down her saucer and curled up in her chair, etiquette giving way to exhaustion.

Narcissa sipped her tea. "What technique are you using? A box? A drawer? Perhaps a sealed cave?"

"A bookshelf." Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "Books of memories. Pages of moments."

"Very useful," she said. "And you are taking pages out?"

Hermione nodded.

"I know a thing or two about that." Narcissa's voice was quiet and low, lulling. "Would you like me to assist you?"