And maybe it's time to change
To leave this all behind
It wasn't yet noon as Hermione Jean Granger walked up the cobblestone path to the wrought-iron gates. It was autumn; the sun was shining but there was a chill in the air; a chill that made her draw her cloak tighter; a chill that had nothing to do with the wind.
When she reached the iron gate, she paused, unsure of what to do. She suddenly remembered the letter (the letter that came so early in the morning, the sun hadn't made an appearance yet) and placed her palm directly over the keyhole; her hand slid through, as if the gate wasn't made of iron but of mist and so she walked through, shivering slightly.
The winding path leading to the gray stoned mansion was longer than the path to the gate. Hedges lined the narrow path she was walking on and ten feet above her were white, albino peacocks; their pink eyes watched her every move as she walked at a brisk pace.
A few moments later, the mansion in all its glory came into view and she quickly glanced over her shoulder before raising her hand to the old, mahogany door and knocking. There was a moment of silence and then the wood of the door started to warp; the grainy lines formed into a face that stretched it's mouth wide.
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor
Where friends or foes are made;
If you wish to come inside,
Please kindly state your name."
Hermione's brow furrowed but she obliged. "Hermione Granger."
The face nodded, then warped back into the door, leaving it unchanged. There was a series of clicking from behind the door and then it opened. At first, Hermione thought the door opened itself and she made to step inside but froze when a figure with white blonde hair stepped out from behind it.
"Granger," Draco Malfoy said. His voice was drawling, just as it always had been. The only thing that was different was the length of his hair, which was shaved in the back with a longer fringe in the front. He raised his brow at her. "Are you just going to stand outside or what?"
"Well, most people would invite someone into their house, Malfoy," Hermione said irritably. He stepped aside and she passed him quickly, cast into darkness as Malfoy shut the door behind her.
"Follow me," he said and she had to squint through the darkness to find his silhouette. Eventually, they made it into the parlor which was so coated in dust, the minute she stepped foot inside, she sneezed.
"Dear Merlin," she wheezed. Malfoy rolled his eyes and sneered, handing her his handkerchief.
"Keep it."
He lead her through the Mansion and she tried to hide her curiosity; the last time she'd been there, she'd been tortured (among other things) for hours.
It was beautiful, she had to admit, in an old Victorian way; she supposed the Mansion to be a couple hundred years old; she couldn't picture anyone living here comfortably.
That may have been, however, due to the fact that everything was covered in dust.
Except for Draco's study.
He lead them there, and waved his hand to a leather chair in front of his desk, which he took a seat at. "Sit."
She did, crossing her legs and drawing her cloak tighter around her still; the chill from outside had followed her. She shivered as Malfoy produced a manila envelope from a file drawer and slid it across the top of his desk to her.
"Is this-"
"The contract," he finished. He leaned back in his chair, his fingertips together as he studied her. "Drawn up this morning."
She opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of three foot long parchment. The font was miniscule, and with a huff, she pulled out reading glasses, perching them on the end of her nose. A moment later, she glanced up, suspicion lacing her words.
"This is a rather fair contract, Malfoy."
"Why the tone of surprise?" he asked, rocking back slightly. "I am a fair man."
"I suppose I'm just…reluctant, I guess you could say, on why you are doing this for me." She laid the contract down after having gone over it twice. She couldn't find a single thing wrong with it and it made her feel a little unnerved.
"I guess you missed the fact that my house is in complete and utter shambles, Granger" he told her. "I've been away for a long time; I haven't been in this house in more than three years. It would take longer to clean by magic than it would by hand; some things are impervious to spells, others are too delicate. You coming along with your request was the perfect opportunity."
Unperturbed, she sat back in the chair and inhaled deeply. "Whatever your reasoning may be, I rather appreciate what you're doing for me." How uncomfortable it was to be thanking Malfoy!
He shrugged, mirroring her and leaning back in his chair as well. "As long as we both abide by what the contracts says, I see no reason for this to not work out."
A thought suddenly occurred to Hermione and she sat up, immediately uncomfortable. "I do, however, have one request."
"Which would be what, dare I ask?"
"The library-" she started to say but he interrupted her quickly.
"Before you waste your breath," he drawled. "Check the back of the contract."
Curious, she did as she was told. There was a small paragraph there and she pushed her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose.
Stated in the contract is that Hermione Jean Granger must clean the entirety of Malfoy Manor. The exception to this rule being that Hermione Jean Granger does not have to, if she wishes, to step a single foot inside the library, for reasons that do not have a need to be discussed with outside parties. This means that the library may remained untouched, and un-cleaned, unless of course, Hermione Jean Granger can find an alternate way to clean it (which I have no doubt she will.)
She stared at the words until they became blurry and embarrassedly wiped her tears away. She took a deep breath and quickly put the sheet of paper on the desk.
"Thank you.""Did you honestly believe I'd make you go in there?" he asked her incredulously. She pursed her lips.
"I thought you'd have forgotten."
"Forgotten." He repeated the word in such a manner that made her feel stupid. His words were harsh. "Not likely, Granger. As hard as it was for you to go through it, it was just as hard for me to watch. I promise you that."
They were silent as Hermione took it all in and exhaled heavily. She picked up an eagle feathered quill from an ink well and signed her name in careful script across the bottom line. Malfoy's name was already elegantly signed beneath it. When she lifted the tip of the quill off the sheet of paper after she wrote her last name, the contract glowed brightly for a moment before fading. She knew if she were to try to write something more on the contract, alter it in someway, the ink would disappear. The contract could no longer be fixed and must be abided by. She cleared her throat after returning the quill and stood.
"Let's get to it, then."
"What kind of contract could you possibly have with Draco Malfoy?" Ron asked her lividly. Hermione bristled as she fiddled with the tea kettle.
"It's none of your business, really, but if you must know-"
"I have to agree with Ron in this case, Hermione," Harry said, accepting his cup of tea with a nod of thanks. "It doesn't seem right to me. Maybe you should have had a Ministry official there to oversee the contract-"
"He wrote it himself, Harry," she told him.
"That's exactly my point!" he said.
"I read it, twice in fact, and I saw nothing wrong with it," she said, stirring some sugar into her tea. "I honestly wish you'd let go of what happened in Hogwarts. It's water under the bridge, honestly-"
"In case you've forgotten, Hermione," Ron said nastily. "You were tortured at wand and knife point in that house! And now you're going to be bloody cleaning it?"
"I haven't forgotten that, Ronald Weasley," Hermione whispered to the kitchen table. She glanced up at him, so angry that she was shaking. The entire kitchen went quiet. "Don't you dare suggest that I haven't. I do believe that it was I who was left there, alone while Scabior-"
Ron looked aghast. "Are you suggesting-"
"She's not suggesting anything, right, Hermione?" Harry said firmly. "We were all in trouble that day. There wasn't anything anyone could do. Hermione's right, Ron," he added to his red-headed friend; indeed, Ron's face was an exceptional shade of rouge. "It's water under the bridge. Maybe Malfoy's…changed."
Ron snorted into his cup. "Yeah. And my new best friends are Aragog's children."
"It's been over three years," Hermione said quietly. "I don't see why we just can't-"
"You can just forget everything that happened at Hogwarts?" Ron said suddenly and glared at her from across the table. "Everything that he's done to you? Everything he's said to you, to me, to Harry? Just like that?"
"We were children, Ron. Children. We're adults now. Those things were so trivial. Just let it go." She was suddenly exhausted and she sighed as she stood, taking her half empty cup and placing it in the wash basin. "I'm going to bed. Please lock the door and put up the wards on your way out."
And without so much as a goodbye, she left Harry and Ron at her kitchen table with their cold tea.