This is just a quick drabble I wrote when I couldn't sleep. Enjoy.
Small Deeds
Nervously, Hermione knocked upon Filch's door. Knowing the man's great (and fair) disdain for herself and the boys, she wasn't certain it was a good idea. Nevertheless, compassion compelled her.
The door jerked open, and Argus sneered down at her.
"What is it?" he snapped, eyeing her suspiciously.
She sighed shakily. "Hello Mr Filch, I-um, I know.. I know that with Durmstrang and Beauxbatons coming visit that you've got a lot of cleaning to do..."
"Yes?" he sniped, growing aggitated.
Hermione jumped, blushing red. "I just, Iknowyou'vegotalottodoandyouneverusemagictocleansoIwaswonderingifIcouldhelpyou."
He stared at her owlishly for a moment. "You what?"
Oh, this was certainly proving more nerve racking than she'd anticipated. Maybe it wasn't a good idea at all. She shouldn't have come. She was so stupid for thinking he'd even consider it let alone want it. But she was here now, so that Gryffindor courage had to be mustered.
With a gulp of air, she steadied herself.
"I know you've got a lot to do, and you never seem to use magic to clean... so I was wondering if I could help you."
As the moments passed, caution grew on Argus.
"Is this some kind of joke, child?" he sneered, "One of your pesky little plans at play?!"
"No, no," she cried, "I just want to help you. It's so much work for one person. I know the elves will help you, but still- I feel like it shouldn't be up to you. Please, Mr Filch."
Argus didn't believe her for a moment. Her knew of Potter and Weasley's exploits; her role no less important in planning than their bravado. But she stood there, alone, and meek.
No, he didn't trust her.
"Why would you volunteer your time, Granger? You telling me, a caretaker with decades of experience with you awful brats, you'd rather be scrubbing the walls than sticking your blocky nose in a book?"
It stung, but she brushed it aside.
"Yes, Mr Filch."
Regardless of what she said, he seemed to grow angrier with each word.
"Be gone!" he bellowed, "You slimy brats won't best Argus Filch!"
Shying away in fear, Hermione nearly tripped over Mrs Norris, who yeowed scornfully at her, as though channeling her masters ire.
Fleeing from his raging bellows, she hid her tears away in an abandon classroom.
She had only wanted to help.
It was three days before the planned arrival, marking the beginning of the Triward ceremonies, and Hermione once again spied Filch slaving away over priceless trophies which could not be cleaned with magic.
Despite his unwelcoming response, she still felt bad. Her suspicions had grown over the recent weeks, and she now felt certain Mr Filch was in fact a squib. She could only pray he would not feel belittled by her actions.
The previous night, she had sneaked from the common room, and made her way from the corridor to the astronomy tower. Knowing a class was in session, star gazing, she would be free to roam the upper floors for at least an hour without a patrol to watch for.
Hastily, she cast her newly learned cleaning charms upon the old, gritty stones and delighted upon their washed and shiny new appearance. Wittling away the hours until nearly 4am, she had gone corridor to corridor, and spelled the walls, floors, and portraits clean of dust and grime. The windows were now nearly invisible from the eye, and the window sils polished and waxed. She had even cleared some discarded rubbish from the classrooms which would be put into use whilst they had the visitng students.
Several of the paintings had grumbled at her, namely informing her these thankless actions were naive and she should be asleep. Yet several more commended her on the effort, but she had sworn them not to tell Filch.
Now, watching the man, she could tell he was perplexed by the enormity of her cleaning. It had taken nearly 7 hours, but she had managed to have the 7th floor in perfect condition.
Argus watched the muggleborn carry on by with her fellow Gryffindors. Fresh from charms, she did not notice his scrutiny.
None of the house elves had admited to scubbing the 7th floor immaculate.
But even so, he had known it wasn't them. No, it was the only female in the golden trio, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. He had been certain she was up to something. Likely trying to plan an escape route for those idiotic, bastard boys.
But perhaps he had been wrong... no motivation seemed to exist for her actions..
Turning away, Argus brutishly rejected the small glimmer of gratitude in his heart.
I apologise if the format is wonky, I typed this on a slightly resentful tablet. I'm trying to break back into writing, so I might upload a few of these types of drabbles. It's a bit short, but I'll improve! Good night all, sleep well and tucked tight, don't let the death eaters bite!