Most ardently by Swift Night, Chapter 15.
The Grangers arrived at the end of May exactly when they had
promised, much to Hermione's delight, the which was in
desperate need of respite from the melancholy atmosphere that
had settled over the borough since Ginny's departure earlier
that week. Her younger sister's standoff
with the Diggerees to attend the Quidditch World Cup had resulted
in many tears being shed, mostly from Charlie and Mrs. Weasley,
and it had yet to recover in the days since.
Charlie spent her days without Ginny moping, souring every
pleasant conversation Hermione attempted to start until she
finally gave up on conversing entirely.
Mrs. Weasley was doting on her youngest daughter in attempt to
lift her spirits, but the attention only encouraged
Charlie's wallowing. Even the new book about Dragons
from Mr. Weasley did little to improve her mood.
Rather than endure their usual afternoons in the sitting room,
Priscilla escaped most days to visit her new friend, Penelope
Clearwater. Hermione couldn't blame her for
seeking out the solace elsewhere.
Luna, on the other hand, had elected to spend a considerable
amount of time in the garden, speaking with the gnomes or
feeding the thestrels. Hermione had attempted to join
her on that first day, but her sister didn't seem inclined to
enjoy her company, and she didn't wish to impose on Luna's
desire for solitude. The Grangers joined them for
dinner on the evening of their arrival, and aside from Mr.
Weasley satisfying his curiosity with questions about a few
muggle inventions, it was a rather muted affair.
The following morning, the Weaseley's farewell to Hermione
was much less tearful than Jenny's had been, but she made
sure to hug each of her sisters tightly during their goodbyes.
While Hermione knew from experience that it would only be
a short time before she began missing home, she could not help
but feel relieved as the horse drawn carriage left the Burrow
behind as it carried her and her parents towards their intended
destination. The first day of the trip was
largely uneventful, though the road they took was unfamiliar to
her and offered her spectacular views of picturesque landscapes
that struck Hermione with a sense of awe.
During lunch, she perched herself on a Cliff as the wind
swirled around her, tangling her curls as she gazed upon the
valley below. On the second day of their
travels, they did not have nearly as much luck.
In the late morning, the carriage lost a wheel, forcing
them to stop while footmen made their repairs.
Hermione had previously learned that muggle carriages and magic
did not mix well and refrained from drawing her wand instead of
standing around. Mister Granger insisted they
take an early lunch under a large oak tree while the work
was being done, and Hermione had no reason to complain.
From her shaded seat, she was able to enjoy the sound of the
birds chirping and watched a group of bow trickles move along
the large branches above her. Where are we anyway?
Hermione asked aloud after taking a bite from her apple.
I believe we are in Wiltshire. Her father replied.
Hermione choked on the fruit as she attempted to swallow and
prepared to hear that name uttered so casually.
As she recovered, one of the footmen came over to inform them
of their progress. Mr. Granger, I believe that we
have repaired the carriage well enough for it to take us to the
next inn in a few miles, Sir. He shuffled back and forth as he
delivered the news, knowing it was not ideal.
They should have the parts that we need to make more permanent
fix for the rest of our journey. Very well.
Mr. Granger sighed, standing up from his seat as he clapped his
hands together. We shall have to spend the night
in Wiltshire. His tone displayed in enthusiasm
Hermione could not reciprocate as the family loading themselves
back into the carriage to head for the village.
They set a slow pace not wanting to risk damaging the carriage
further and it was mid afternoon when the small village
containing the inn came into view.
They found the coach builder and dropped off the carriage before
boarding the horses for the night.
They were directed to the inn in a few buildings down and made
the walk there to enquire over obtaining rooms for the family
and servants. The Peacocks Plume turned out to
be a wizarding inn and pub, but there was no reason the Grangers
could not stay there since Hermione was accompanying them.
She even had a small pouch of galleons and sickles Mr. Weasley
had insisted she carry for instances such as this where
their muggle pounds would not be accepted.
After a pleasant greeting and an explanation, her father in the
barmaid named Madame Rosmurta began haggling over the price of
a set of rooms When the deal was struck, Hermione reached into
her pouch and pulled out the coins to pay the witch.
Excellent. The witch declared as she
accepted them. The supper will not be served
for a few more hours and I'll have to instruct one of the
elves to prepare your rooms. Mr. and Missus Granger, do you
have any plans in the meantime? No, but if you have any
suggestions to occupy us this afternoon, we would be happy to
hear them. Her mother inquired politely.
With your daughter being a witch, you should take her up to
the Manor. It is open to visitors.
Madame Rosmurter suggested. As in Malfoy manner.
Hermione's voice had risen as her cheeks flushed.
Yes, the very one. The witch nodded.
Do you know the Malfoy family, Miss Granger?
Oh yes, Hermione does. The woman answered for her.
I recall her writing about Mr. Malfoy in one of her letters
last year. Hermione record how she also
told her mother that Mister Malfoy had been eaten up by
arrogance, but that fact had either been ignored or
forgotten. Whichever the reason, she was
grateful her mother had not elaborated.
Then all the more reason for you to go.
I could offer you the inn's carriage to take you there.
Madame Rosmerta's tone indicated that she had already decided for
them. I do not believe he is home at
present, but his mother should be, and she's a very pleasant
witch if you happen to cross paths with her.
She thanked Merlin for small mercies for his absence, but
could not help but wonder how Mr. Malfoy would take the news.
When he returned to find out that she had brought her Muggle
parents to tour the home. She adamantly refused to become
the mistress of knowing him. He would not see the humour in
the circumstance. As for the witch's
recommendation of Mr. Malfoy's mother, Hermione dreaded the
idea of making her acquaintance, if only to avoid any awkward
conversation about Hermione's rejection of her son.
Unfortunately, with no reason to say no, at least not one she was
comfortable sharing, Hermione was forced to climb into the
open top carriage and travel the short distance to the gates of
Malfoy Manor. A few minutes later, her parents
seemed quite enthusiastic about the chance to go, having never
the opportunity to explore any magical estate besides the
borough. As they passed through the iron
gates that flanked the stone walls encircling the boundary of
the estate, Hermione was already worried about how the borough
would measure up when contrasted against the sprawling grounds
and large structure. Upon catching sight of Malfoy
Manor, it seemed like a hovel in comparison.
She found herself comparing it more to Featherfield, though
even it seemed more modest than the elegant estate before her.
The private gravel Rd. leading up to the front door was twice
the length of Featherfields. On one side of the path was an
orchard, while the other contained a large garden that
appeared to encircle a pond. She thought she might have
caught the sight of a white feathered creature between the
trees, but by the time she turned back to catch another
glance, it was obscured from her view.
When the carriage finally stopped, Hermione could not help
but laugh at the ridiculousness of the current circumstance.
Her parents shocked expressions that the obscene wealth they had
been confronted with was not an image she would soon forget.
With an eagerness that she had rarely seen in her parents
prior, they climbed out of the carriage and Hermione struggled
to keep up as they headed to the oversized front doors.
They did not even need to knock as an elf opened the door to
greet them before they could reach it.
It was not the elf herself that caused Hermione's feet to
stumble. She knew the man of possessed
households from her discussion with Mr. Malfoy.
It was the fact that the elf before her was wearing clothes
instead of the usual pillowcase or tea towels.
Hello, Mr. Missus and Miss. The elf greeted.
How can Dollop help you? Hermione's stunned state kept
her from replying, her mind reeling at the sudden
revelation. Her father and mother seemed not
to comprehend the scale of which her world had just shifted.
Speaking politely with the elf as if it were entirely ordinary,
she failed to fully recover before the elf cheerfully urged
them through the entry hall and began the tour of the public
rooms within the Manor. In quick succession, the
Grangers were escorted through a reception room gilded in gold, a
dining room large enough to serve 100 people, and a ballroom
grand enough to host at least all of the Wizards and witches
in Britain if they were so lucky to be afforded an invitation.
Her parents were generous as they offered their compliments
and examined the finery between the elf's lectures on the
history of each room. It was not until they reached
the Portrait Gallery that Hermione collected herself
enough to absorb any of the elf's ramblings.
This portrait is of Mr. Malfoy's father, Master Lucius the Elf.
Gestured to the oil painting held in a prominent spot by the
entrance, the wizard in question looked down proudly from his
frame. Though whatever comments he felt
about the tour being LED through his home, he kept to himself
until her mother spoke. I must confess, I shall never
grow accustomed to moving portraits.
I cannot imagine living in a home where the portraits could
talk back, but I suppose I am lucky to never have to.
Mudbloods. He sneered down from his
portrait, the curse cutting through the peaceful atmosphere
in my home. My son has allowed such filth to
enter these halls. How dare.
With the snapping of her fingers, the elf silenced the
portrait, glaring at our former master with loathing.
He continued to shout despite them no longer hearing him.
Master Draco was very clear. Dollop admonished him, as if
speaking to a misbehaving child. If Master Lucius cannot refrain
from repeating such awful things, Master Draco will have
him relocated to the stables. My word, Missus.
Granger exclaimed. Has he always been like that?
If so, I am glad I never met him.
Hermione thought back to how she had once told Mr. Malfoy
something similar while she had been staying at Featherfield.
If his portrait was a true likeness, she could not help but
feel her previous remarks had understated her.
Thanks for never having encountered him while he was
living. Yes.
The elf's ears flapped as she nodded.
Master Lucius has always been a cruel master.
He punished the elves for everything and never had a kind
word to say about anyone. Her.
Heart broke for the creature before her, and her father spoke
the words she could not bring herself to voice.
It seems his son is a much more pleasant gentleman.
You must find your situation much improved since he became
master of this manner. Indeed.
Dollop agreed. Master Draco is the best master
an elf could ask for. Dollop and Daisy and the rest of
the elves were so upset when he returned from his travels and
insisted on giving us clothes. But why would receiving such a
gift upset you, Missus? Granger asked in concern.
We thought Master Draco was sacking us, Missus.
None of us wanted to leave now that he was in charge.
When her parents still look confused by the elf's
explanation, Hermione interrupted to help them
understand. Elf magic is different.
Wizards previously found ways to tie them to the estates and they
are unable to leave or defy their masters even if they wish
to. The only way they can be free is
if their master presents them with clothes.
She turned to the elf before adding.
Mr. Malfoy wasn't sacking you when he offered you those
clothes though. He was freeing you so you could
decide for yourself if you wished to stay and be paid for
your services. Precisely.
Miss Dullop confirmed. And not a single elf chose to
leave since he freed us last spring.
However, I must admit we do not know what to do with all the
coins. Master.
Draco gives Us Weekly Such a generous wizard master Draco is
Dollop continues to work hard so she can stay and work for the
Malfoy family forever. The elf's reply had Hermione's
stomach in knots. It seemed this had been a recent
development and must have occurred.
Either he returned from Kent, it could only mean that he had come
home and freed the elves after she had explained her objection
to ever owning one. She may have understood his
motives had she accepted his proposal, doing it as a
compromise to appease her, but seeing as how she had adamantly
refused his offer, his actions were a mystery to her.
Had he truly been compelled to such a change by a single
conversation with her on the subject?
In her previous understanding of his character, she had found his
pride to not allow him to relinquish his stubbornness, A
trait which she herself shared. So if she was incorrect in her
assumptions, where did that leave her thoughts on the
wizard? Now Hermione was unsure if she
was ready to face the answer to such questions.
Oh, it is too bad Mr. Marfoy is not here today.
Her father said. I believe I would have enjoyed
the opportunity to become acquainted with such an
honourable gentleman. He spends so.
Little time at home. Dollop looked quite disappointed
by this fact. But we all hope that he should
marry soon, and then he would be home far more often.
Come this way and I can show you his likeness.
The elf guided them further into the gallery, stopping before a
bust of a wizard Hermione suspected she could now identify
among any crowd. I must say, he has a handsome
face. Missus Granger complimented,
turning to her. Tell us, Hermione, is it a true
likeness? Hermione was startled by her
mother's question and Dollop's excited squeal.
The Dollop did not know Miss knows Master Draco.
And why did Miss not say sooner? I.
Hermione's words caught in her throat.
I did not know him well, and we were not acquainted long.
But does Miss not think him handsome?
Dollop returned to her with his question and Hermione's thought
on it. She recalled the first time she
caught a glimpse of him at the public dance hall.
It has been nearly impossible to look away from him as he floated
through the room. The artist who carved this bust
before her had captured his likeness remarkably well, and
she took the time to study the curve of his brows and the slope
of his nose in a way that she would never allow herself to do
while standing before the real Mr. Malvoy.
I do, she answered quietly. He takes after his mother.
This is her over. Here, Dollop continued on,
leading her parents away. Hermione's feet remained planted
before the stone wizard, unable to revert her eyes.
It had felt like so long since their last encounter, but she
realized just how little time had passed since then.
While the bust's expression was serious, she thought she may
have perceived a vulnerability in it that had been previously
hidden from her view, and it left her wondering if it had
been there all along. The squawking of an albino
Peacock in the neighboring painting finally broke her from
her stupor. When she looked around to regain
her bearings, she discovered Dollop and her parents had left
her behind in the few minutes she had been preoccupied.
Not wanting to become lost, she hurried through the gallery to
the large double doors at the end.
The elf had previously indicated they belonged to the entrance of
the library, and that had been the last planned stop of the
tour inside the house before seeing the gardens.
Of all the rooms in the Manor, it had been the one she'd been
most anticipating. The praise for it written in
Pansy's letter from Christmas had been enough to make her
eager to witness their grandeur for herself.
Having explored the rest of the house, she was certain it would
not disappoint. Reaching the doors, she pushed
against them, only to be disappointed when they did not
budget. She pulled out her wand and
cursed an unlocking charm, but when that did not yield results,
she began to feel her anxiety rising.
She fired off two more spells with no avail and was forced to
seek out other alternatives. As she glanced around the
gallery, she saw the terrace that ran parallel to the room,
extended past in the direction of the library.
If she could venture outside, perhaps she could enter the
library from there. Several sets of glass doors
lined the wall of windows, and she tentatively approached the
closest one, testing to see if they too were locked.
When the door handle turned in her hand, she let out a sigh of
relief. She let herself out onto the
terrace and headed in the direction she knew to be the
library. A quick peek into the next
window confirmed her assumption to be correct as she saw rows of
shelves filled with books and tomes.
There seemed to be only one set of doors connecting the library
to the terrace, and Hermione groaned when they refused to
allow her entrance. Stumped with how to proceed, she
was left to weigh her options. She could return and wait in the
Portrait Gallery, but felt that somewhat intrusive, so she
rejected that idea. Her next option was to wander
the gardens aimlessly and hope she crossed Dollop and her
parents again. This seemed unfeasible as the
gardens were quite large and she wasn't sure how she would fare
if she came across any creatures roaming the grounds while alone.
Hermione settled on walking around the manor's edge until
she reached where they had left the carriage.
At least this way she would not lose her bearings and she would
cause no trouble. With her plan in mind, she set
off. Walking back past the gallery in
the ballroom, she had not realised what a distance they
had walked inside and paused for a moment to catch her breath and
admire the view. The estate seemed to stretch on
endlessly. the Rose garden that boarded the Manor tempted her
with its decadent floral scents and bright colours.
When the terrace ended, she entered it willingly, making
sure she stayed in close proximity to the Manor so as to
not stray too far. Hermione took another brief
moment of rest to appreciate a particularly beautiful rosebloom
when her ears picked up the sound of a feminine hum nearby.
Rooted to the spot, her anxiety grew at being caught wandering
the gardens without an escort. The humming continued, and
Hermione peered through the neighboring rosebush to see if
she could quietly determine who the voice belonged to.
When she caught a glimpse of familiar blonde hair, she
bulked, but soon remembered that it could not possibly belong to
Mr. Malfoy. With only one living relative,
it was easy to ascertain that the silvery blonde strands
pinned up into an elegant chignon belonged to Missus
Narcissa Malfoy. Dollop had said that Mister
Malfoy took after his mother, and as Hermione stole another
glance at the witch, she confirmed it to be true.
There was a regalness about her as she moved from bud to bud,
inspecting each one before deciding if she could cut it and
add it to the basket resting on her hip.
While floral arranging was a common accomplishment of
highborn ladies, gardening was not being considered.
Far too dirty for their delicate hands, most ladies left the task
of collecting the flowers to their servants so as to not get
dirt under their nails or prick their fingers on the thorns,
having no experience handling the plants that grew the
decadent blooms. In comparison, Missus Marfoy
appeared entirely at ease, her pruning shears held confidently
in her gloved hands, showing no hesitation with each precise
snip. Hermione had become so
mesmerised watching her work that she failed to notice the
gentleman approaching the witch with quiet steps.
Mother. A familiar voice said as he
stepped into view. My dragon missus.
Malfoy exclaimed, quickly dropping her basket and cheers
to envelope her son in her arms. Mr. Malfoy let out a light
hearted laugh at the embrace, and the unexpectedness of the
sound had Hermione releasing a gasp.
She quickly covered her mouth, but the damage was already done.
A set of silver eyes snapped up to catch sight of her, where she
watched from her hiding spot, partially obscured by the
foliage. At the horror of being caught,
Hermione fled, and certain of her destination so long as it
was away from the gentleman in question.
She scurried up the path as quickly as her feet could carry
her, and when she heard a hurried set of boots behind her,
drawing closer, her panic only rose.
There was a hedge maze on her right, and she made the split
decision to dash inside in hopes of hiding from the wizard.
She took turn after turn, letting herself lose all sense
of direction until she stumbled upon the centre of the maze.
If she had not been in such a state, she would have been
entranced by the serenity The Secret Garden offered.
White roses climbed the trellises along the perimeter
and four modest cherry blossoms were situated in each corner,
their pink blooms filling the space with an abundance of
colour. The centrepiece of the garden
was a round marble fountain that appeared to be the perfect place
to rest while listening to the gentle splashes of water
cascading down the stone. Tragically, Hermione had no time
to savour the sights or sounds. Spotting another exit across the
way, she made her way towards it, pleading to Merlin that it
would allow her an escape. But just as her hope built, it
crumbled to dust upon catching the eye of a certain creature
blocking her path forward. The albino Peacock seemed
equally surprised by her presence as she was by it.
Deducing it was a male due to its large plume of feathers it
displayed, Hermione stalled to not antagonise it further.
However, the shock from her sudden appearance wore off
rather quickly, and it squawked in indignation at being
disturbed. The aggressiveness of its
movements had her retreating until her calves hit the cool
stone of the fountain. Just as she thought she was
doomed, a lean figure operated between her and the murderous
fowl with a crack. Maximus.
No Mr. Malvoy scolded the bird. If Hermione had not been so full
of dread at his sudden appearance, she would have
laughed in amusement at witnessing Mr. Malfoy berate an
angry Peacock in a stand off of wills.
The bird released another squawk but retreated into the maze
without further incident, leaving her alone with the
wizard. Miss Granger, are you all right?
Are you hurt? The shift in his tone from stern
to gentle had her heart fluttering in her chest.
I am fine. She stammered.
Good, that's good. He said from where he stood A
respectable distance away. And your family, are they?
Well, yes, they are, thank you. She felt her cheeks warming
under his scrutiny. Good, he repeated once more.
She could not go another moment without addressing the
awkwardness between them. I'm so sorry for the intrusion.
Our carriage broke down just outside the village and the
barmaid informed us that the house was open for visitors and
they said you wouldn't be home. I had not planned to be until
the end of the month, he explained.
But I had urgent business with my steward that could not wait.
Ah. She nodded, unsure what to say,
her mouth working faster than her mind could keep up with.
I'm here with my parents. We were passing through on our
way to the Peak District. Are your sisters with you as
well? Hermione realised he had made
the assumption she was travelling with her wizarding
family and rushed to clarify. No, I'm travelling with my
muggle parents, the Weaseleys remain in Ottery St.
Catchpole. Well, all of them aside from my
youngest sister, Jinny. She's at the Quidditch World Cup
with the Diggerees. She was not sure why she could
not keep from rambling Mr. Malfoy's presence, but the
wizard simply nodded in understanding.
I see my parents. The Grangers have never seen any
magical dwellings aside from the borough, so they insisted upon
coming. I hope both they and you will
not leave. Displeased with the manner he
looked almost I'll at the idea. I'm quite certain no one can
find Malfoy Manor displeasing. She insisted.
I never did see the library though, so I shall trust that it
is as grand as Pansy described in her letter.
Dollop did not include it in her tour.
A small scowl returned to cover his features.
She did, though. I became separated from her and
my parents after spending too much time wandering the Portrait
Gallery. Her mind felt the need to come
to the elf's defence, even though she knew he would not
have been cruel to Dollop even if she had cut it from her tour.
I would be more than happy to show you.
Mr. Malfoy offered, but Hermione immediately shook her head.
I feel I have already imposed too much on your hospitality,
Sir. Besides, I should head back and
rejoin my parents at the inn. We leave early in the morning in
the hopes of making it to the Cotswolds before nightfall.
You're leaving so soon? He almost seemed disappointed.
We had never intended to stop in Wiltshire at all.
Hermione said. If not for our carriage
troubles, we would have only passed through.
I understand. Can I escort you back to the
Peacock plume? I could fetch my broomstick or
apparatus if you would prefer. I know how you feel about
flying. She could not imagine mounting A
broomstick with him or holding on to his arm tightly as he
apparated them back to the village.
They had not been that close since she shouted at him in the
pavilion, and it was best to keep her distance.
No, thank you. She refused.
I am very fond of walking. A small smile appeared at the
corner of his mouth. Yes, I know.
They stared at each other for another brief moment, the only
sound coming from the gentle breeze rustling the leaves and
the soft trickle of water from the fountain behind her.
Goodbye, Mr. Malfoy. She bid him farewell when she
finally found the courage to speak, offering a final courtesy
to the gentleman. He had not even finished
lowering his head to bow to her before she was scurrying back
the way she came. The maze was just as confusing
the second time round, and Hermione was convinced it was
changing to keep her trapped inside with the wizard and his
angry Peacock. After coming across multiple
dead ends, she finally emerged back onto the main path.
The walk back to the front of the Manor was largely
uneventful. She had been correct in her
assumption that her parents had departed without her, but
Hermione was grateful they were gone before they could encounter
Mr. Malfoy. Having found her bearings, she
had no trouble taking the path back out of the gates and down
the road that led directly into the village.
Her parents had already freshened up for dinner at her
arrival, and they gave her a few moments alone to wash up before
joining them downstairs in the pub for dinner.
Hermione only thought as she descended the stairs.
Hermione's only thought as she descended the stairs was on
tonight's meal, but it quickly shifted when she caught the
sight of the wizard she had just left.
Casually conversing with her parents, she ducked into an
alcove to avoid being spotted, quite confident she did not
possess the fortitude to converse with him for a second
time that day. He did not linger long,
exchanging a few words before departing.
Hermione did not approach the table until she ensured he had
passed through the front door of the pub.
Hermione, darling. Her mother exclaimed before she
could even sit down at the table.
You just missed Mr. Malfoy. He came over to us to apologise
for not being there to greet us today.
You did not tell us. Seen him before you left.
I had planned to tell you once we sat down for dinner.
She lied, having previously planned on never Speaking of it
to anyone. Well, it appears our carriage
will not be ready until Thursday morning, and he has been so
generous as to invite us to dine with him tomorrow.
In the interim, Dine with him? Hermione's stomach churned, her
appetite disappearing in an instant.
Tomorrow we have no other plans to occupy us, her father
reasoned. It was kind of him to offer.
Seeing as we are Muggles, most Wizards would not extend such an
invitation to us until today. Hermione considered Mr. Malfoy
among most Wizards who would refuse to share a meal with
Muggles to see him go out of his way to introduce himself to her
parents. She wasn't sure what to make of
that action. He especially wants you to meet
his mother. Missus Granger interrupted her
spiralling thoughts. Hmm.
She hummed, unable to form any words upon finding herself
rendered speechless by the wizard in question.
For the remainder of the evening, the Grangers prattled
on about the marvels of Malfoy Manor and its owner, while
Hermione sat quietly contemplating his sudden change
in temperament. She would have to wait and see
if today had been a momentary lapse in his nature or a
fundamental shift into someone she had yet to have a clear
understanding of. When Hermione retired to her
room that evening, she secretly hoped it to be the latter, even
if the prospect of this new Mr. Malvoy was someone she was
worried she was unprepared to face.