Haunted

9 | ad mentem

Warning:

This chapter contains mentions of racism throughout history (not described in detail), and also presents ideas about blood purity as fact. The section about racism has been marked with ~~~~~ at the start and the end for anyone who would like to skip past this. 

A week passed and Granger still hadn't returned to the library since the night that she'd taken the Occlumency book. Each night, every little creak in the floors Draco heard had his head snapping up to check if the door was opening and she was entering the room, but she was never there. He went through this cycle a million times each night, receiving stabs of excitement and then disappointment to his chest, over and over. He could barely even focus on his research.

At the next lesson they'd had after he'd reprimanded her for drinking, he'd told her to let him know when she was farther on in her Occlumency skills, and that they'd hold off on continuing the advanced shielding techniques until then. She'd looked up at him, her hazel eyes guarded, and just nodded. Part of him had hoped that she would take his words as an unspoken apology, and return to the library, but as the days passed, he only saw her getting more and more comfortable with the other soldiers. She was probably spending her time with them.

It should have been a relief, really. He shouldn't want her to be at the library with him, not when he could barely bring himself to have a civil conversation with her before turning into an arsehole to hide any traces of softness that he failed to contain. The less time that he was around her, the less on guard he had to be, so shouldn't he be glad that their paths seldom crossed outside of training?

His whole mission had been to get her to hate him. And he'd succeeded. So, then why did he feel so listlessly unhappy?

He'd mostly stopped interacting with her at training, allowing Blaise to be the one to oversee her progress, and generally ignoring her any time they came in contact. Pathetically, he missed their fights, missed seeing those flames in her eyes and knowing that he'd been the accelerant behind lighting them. Even if she hated him, he still wanted her near, as difficult as it was to admit the truth to himself.

He sighed and physically shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand as he drew his attention back to his books in search of any mention of the Greek library he'd been to as a kid. He'd found some information over the past week, uncovering that the library was named βιβλιοθήκη για χαμένες ψυχές, which was Greek for Library for Lost Souls. One book he'd read about it said that the LLS was home to many ancient texts that had been forgotten overtime. As such, he thought it was a pretty good bet for finding more information about the Israeli reversal ritual.

But none of what he found offered any insight about where the library was actually located and how to get there. Greece was far enough away that his options for travel were limited; Apparating across such a far distance would require more power than he had, and if he wanted to use a Portkey, he'd need to register for an international one and he'd likely be questioned on why he was trying to visit the library. The last option was to travel by Floo, but he'd need to get himself connected to the library's Floo network, and he didn't know exactly how to do that without raising alarm bells at the Manor. And Muggle travel was out of the question, since the library would be only accessible to those with magic.

He pondered sending an Owl to inquire about how to visit, but if it was intercepted and he was questioned about it, he didn't have a good response besides that he was interested in the library for personal reasons. And that would never be a sufficient answer for any of his superiors to allow him to go. He'd draw suspicions that he could not draw.

So, he was at a crossroads. He'd investigated every single book in the Manor's library that could possibly reference the LLS, and he'd come up empty. It was time to resort to his last option: asking his mother for help.