The next week, I mostly retire the Sagum and begin to practice occlumency. Occlumency seems to use some of the techniques that we learned while resisting the imperious curse. Harry was the only one who successfully got through it. No one else so much as hesitated. I certainly didn't, but at least now I'm familiar with some of the techniques.

There is a key difference, however. Resisting the imperious curse is about willpower. I'm sure I have more than some, but then not as much as Harry Potter. Occlumency uses the same sort of muscles, so to speak, but the magic comes from a different place. It's repression. An ability to hide, to sit idle. That I have been practicing for years.

Since my work on the Sagum has stalled, Professor Babbling allows me to continue my own private work in her classroom so long as I practice my skills by decoding an artifact of her choices before entering the room. It seems she is a Ravenclaw still at heart. Due to the degrading of the objects, some afternoons are harder than others. On this day, the first of October, I'm lucky that the task is easy.

Now, if I could get access to Veritaserum, and if I could find someone who was willing to drug me randomly, I might be able to check my skills.

At a more advanced level, I will hopefully only hide what I want hidden. I'm not even sure it will work on the Sagum, but I've got to try to hide specific thoughts of Draco. After all, it might be him that is most likely thinking of me, and if I'm always thinking of him, I'll never be able to tell if it works.

At least, I think he thinks of me.

My eyes are closed as I'm meditating. Something grazes the book in my hands. I open my eyes to see Malfoy, leaning against the desk beside me. With my legs still in the tailor sitting position, as requested by the book, I blink up at him.

"Moved on from trying to trap me in a temporal distortion?" he asks.

I glance up at the front. Professor Babbling is still gone. Only over the past few days she has been slipping out a few times while I am here since she usually doesn't leave students with her artifacts. Kenneth Towler is the only other student that she lets use her room regularly, and when he is here, she won't watch over me. He's gone too. I'm not sure when he left.

"I just would rather you not have any insight on the matter," I wag the book, pulling it out of my lap. "Don't want you spoiling my plans about trapping you in a pocket dimension."

Malfoy's hand wraps around the book. We both hold it for a second before I let him take it. He flips through the pages, slowly. It shouldn't surprise me he is this patient. We haven't exchanged proper words since he flew to Brighton to see me, a plan which as I understand it, was hatched over the better part of a summer. Even now, he seems to have all the time. He doesn't expect Professor Babbling to return.

"Is Snape stalling Babbling for you, or did you find a different lackey to pester her?" I ask.

"Snape," Malfoy answers plainly. He puts the book down on the desk in front of me.

"I haven't told anyone I won the bet," I explain.

He rolls his eyes, "you think you've won, do you?"

"I don't argue moot points," I answer.

My eyes close once more, trying to clear my thoughts. It's a much more difficult process with him in the room. I'm aware of the way my skin feels prickly, of the way my chest moves as I breathe in and out. He's easy to wonder about when he's gone but even easier to wonder about when he is here in front of me. After over a month of silence and now he speaks to me once more.

There is a terrible part of me that hasn't even overcome the absence. I didn't think about him like this before.

"You won't get very far by just meditating," Draco points out.

I open one eye. He's still flipping pages of the book. I close my eyes again.

"You won't," he adds.

Then, I'm forced to look at him. He's not going to let it go, and being here is as effective as twisting my arm behind my back. I drop my legs from their crossed position, letting my feet rest on the ground.

"Well, what am I thinking, then, if I'm not making any progress?"

He looks down at me. After putting down the book, Draco pulls out his wand from inside his cloak. He holds it, and I wait for him to use a spell.

"I'm not a legilimens," he finally answers.

So, I look at him, "it sounds to me like you just don't want to acknowledge that I am good at occlumency."

"Good, yeah right. You took this out from the library two weeks ago exactly," he points out.

Unlike at muggle libraries, there is no card inside this book which says when I checked it out or when it was due. Was he there that day? Did he watch? Did someone else tell him? Perhaps there is some other aspect to my patterns that he noticed.

"I'm a quick learner," I explain. "You know, wit and talent get me by."

"Well, it's certainly not charm," he smirks.

Draco does this thing, I've noticed. He comes to see me, with something on his mind. A question, at least. We aren't friends. We aren't acquaintances either, even, since I feel even acquaintances know each other better than I know him. Yet, I'm struggling to see us as enemies. It's hard to have a secret enemy anyway. There is something about the hatred that makes itself known to those who watch.

All of this considered, he doesn't seem like the kind to talk to me without a specific plan, especially when it requires coordination with a professor. Especially since we saw each other at least twice a month last year after the Yule Ball, and now he hasn't risked speaking to me since then, not even in class.

"Is he back?" I ask. "You-Know-Who?"

"Right to the point, aren't you?" Draco notes.

"Well, I don't have charm anyway, so no point in trying to coax it out of you," I say, finally standing up.

So long as he is here, I'm not going to get any work done anyway, so no use trying. Maybe at Hogsmeade I can beg the owner to go into the pawn shop and find something safe to work on that isn't the Sagum. My thoughts seem more impossible to master than time, anyway.

Draco doesn't answer. Now, he is still a bit taller than me, but we are nearly at the same level. The difference gives me some strange courage.

"Well?" I ask. "It's why you've been avoiding me, isn't it? You know he's back, and I'm not one of you lot."

"For someone who thinks they are so astute, you have no tact," Draco points out.

I shrug. Really, I think I have plenty tact. In our few interactions though, I've garnered that my silence is more infuriating him than any response. I suppose as a Slytherin, he expects me either to blow up or to have a clever retort. Sometimes I do. Michael would say that in jazz music, the notes you don't play matter just as much as the notes you do.

"Why are you even asking?"

I scoff, "what, you don't think it's going to matter to me if another war breaks out? I know you are rich and out of touch, Malfoy, but I'm sure you are aware of my particular predicament if Death Eaters begin having a grand old time."

"Yes, but what good do you think would even come from asking?" Draco rolls his eyes. "If he was back, why would I ever tell you yes? I'd always say no."

"You're somewhat honest with me," I say it as if saying it will make it true. "At least, I don't think you outright lie, or even omit. If you don't want to talk about something, you avoid the question."

"You're making assumptions," Draco counters. "I don't have any moral concerns about lying to you. I don't lie to you because I think so little of your opinion. There's no point in trying to please you or anger you."

Now I roll my eyes. Sure, perhaps that is the case. No one else seems to know his relationship with Pansy Parkinson is what he refers to as political. At least, the people outside of his house seem to think so. The boys at the Yule Ball seemed to think he was legitimately interested in Pansy. Yet, I know the truth. Maybe it's because I wouldn't be persuaded by such a relationship either here nor there.

Draco loosens his tie. His icy pale skin seems flushed. I think I do make him nervous at least. If it weren't so fun to guess what he is thinking, I'd have half a mind to learn legilimency. He is so hard and composed, and only every once in a while, do I see this slip. Right now, his body is rigid as he leans against the desk. His eyes are looking down at his hands while he adjusts his collar.

Then, they flick up to meet mine. Only the most accomplished legilimens in all of history have been able to perform legilimency without a wnad. Eye contact is important to the practice, and I blink away from his hard gaze, as if he somehow is as skilled as the greatest wizards in all of history. As if my soul will somehow betray me.

"If my opinion is so unimportant, perhaps you should spend less time trying to influence it," I manage. I breathe in and look back up at him. "Who cares if I believe that I've won our bet? No one else knows."

"I'm not here to correct you."

Now, I find myself trying to peer into his face. The flush is gone. His gaze is steady, his jaw set, his face almost tight. He doesn't even swallow. I'm not sure that he breathes. I stand up out of my chair, and I rise to his level, or at least as close to it as I can get. There are inches between us, less if I stepped closer.

"Why come today?" I ask.

"You don't care why I've come at all?"

When he exhales, I can feel his breath on my face. I swear, when he inhales, I can feel all the air sucked away from me. Even from inside me. The breath hitches in my own throat. I don't need to know why he's come at all. He is easy to imagine.

I shake my head, "I can guess why you are here. What has happened today?"

Draco looks at me. He blinks once, and then blinks again.

"Thursday," he explains. "I'm doing prefect rounds with Pansy. On the fifth floor, the fourth door to the left of Boris Bewildered's statue leads to the Prefect Bathroom. The password is pine-fresh. No one will be there after hours, and Pansy will be in the Prefect Study. I'll be there around eleven."

He doesn't ask if I can sneak out easily. Portraits don't complain about our presence. Flitch will likely be awake at that hour, still lurking through the castle. I don't argue though. All I do is nod. With that exchange, he leaves.

~~~~~

Were you asking yourself, when does it kick in? Well, this. The answer is here and now. Any questions as we move into the better parts of fifth year?