Tell Me You Love Me
By stefaniaangelone
Chapter 1: Applying for the Job
Chapter Rating: PG
Review Responses: OPEN
Hermione Granger struggled to hold her composure as she marked off the twenty-forth job on the extensive list her swanky stepmother, Barbara had delivered to her in the mail, advising her to find a new job. Hermione almost forgot to read the job-title as she punched in the keys of the number for application. Secretary.
"Hallo? This is Eugene at Dr. Tonic's office. How can I be of service to you this afternoon, please?" Hermione opened her mouth to reply however an infuriating, long beeping noise cut her off as the syrupy voice of a woman on operator turned on instead: Hello. Please dial in the number of your reservation. If you're calling to plan a reservation with Dr. Linda Tonic please call the reservation hotline to be directed to a waiting list. Tha—" Hermione groaned, hanging up the phone and crossing the last possible job off of her list.
She leaned back in her office chair, wheeling around and snatching a magazine off of one of her shelves, peering inside. She flipped open to an ad for a cleaning service. She laughed out loud. "Me—a maid?" She said, shaking her head doubtfully. She began to turn the page when a surprisingly negotiable wage caught her eye. She froze, averting her eyes back to the ad and reading more information. The page sported the picture of a lovely mansion with marble columns, Spanish-style stucco white walls and red roof, complete with a one acre front yard, three and a half acre back yard, a pool, and an apple orchard. The payment deal was three hundred dollars every business day. It was required that she live there, staying in an exclusive guest room with the weekends off to do whatever she pleased.
Hermione smiled, taking her bright red pen and circling the number, reaching for her phone. She jumped as it began to ring, hastily answering it to hear her stepmother's stipulating voice on the other line. "Darling," She drawled dramatically. "Tell me, Hermione, what went well?" Hermione brushed the hair out of her eyes, tying it back in a loose ponytail, juggling the phone in the crook of her neck. "I found a better job." She revealed tentatively. "Hermione? You hesitant—tell me—it isn't a maid is it? I found many offers that were delightful but I decline—I refuse to see my blossoming daughter working as a maid!" Hermione swallowed, tracing the circle she drew around the phone number with her fingers.
"Mom, it's a good job. Three hundred dollars a day—it's this mind-blowing mansion—they reserved a guest room for me—" "So you're going to live there?" Barbara asked, exasperated. "And three hundred dollars? Darling, that's how much your father makes in an hour!" Hermione bit down on her lip, determined to convince her stepmother it was a good idea. "That's true," She replied lightly, "but that's only since last year. I've been working since I was fourteen—" "Yes, and I bet you earned more money as a waitress than a tacky, negligible maid—"
"I'm doing this job," Hermione decided, marking the page in her magazine. "Did you call Martha for the number? Where did you find this deal?" Hermione let out a cloud of her air, chewing her thumbnail. "I found it in a magazine ad, mom. But it's for real estate—" "Hermione Jane Gra—" She heard the phone shift around on the other end then, her father finally picked up, sounding quite calm. "Barbara really hates it that you're considering this job as a maid, Hermione," Hermione sighed. "I'm not considering it, dad. I'm already convinced that I'm going to do it."
He took in a sharp breath then, "Barbara, she wants to do this damn job—" "I refuse to see my daughter working as a maid at a shoddy, dirty resident—" "Barbara would you pipe down with the hysterics!" "I can't Hermione hung up the phone, knowing that her parents could go at it for hours.
Quite pleased with her confidence, Hermione again picked up her phone from the receiver and dialed in the numbers shown on the ad. "This is Paige Whitmore—are you calling in response to the cleaning service ad?" Hermione drew a breath of relief, pleased to hear that it wasn't another one of those fancy operators again. "Yes," Hermione responded airily, "my name is Hermione Granger and although I haven't been very experienced as a maid I—" "Would it be okay if you came in tomorrow for an interview?" Paige said, almost desperately.
"Ye—okay." She replied, astonished. "Truth is, we haven't gotten many calls. I guess they think it's too good to be true but we're pretty desperate." Hermione laughed. "Okay, then. So what's the address?" She heard page-turning and nearly saw the franticness in the girl's breath. "It's 245 Fox Hill Boulevard. Come in around three o'clock. Thank you, buh-bye."
"Woah—Andy—what's the cold stuff you're putting on my eyes?" Hermione sat back in a cushioned chair, in the corner of a salon, being completely made over by her friend Andy and the rest of the staff at La beauté, Chic, Briller. Andy giggled, pushing her thick banana-blonde hair behind her and pressing the cucumber slices in place, above Hermione's big brown eyes. "Relax, Hermione. I'm just putting cucumbers on your eyes." Hermione cringed in response to the merciless way she was being pulled about as her hair, her feet, her hands, and her face were all being professionally worked on.
"I thought the whole cucumber-on-the-eyes trick was a myth—oww!" Her head was yanked backwards as Páulo; the French hairstylist anxiously tugged a rolling brush through her mane of curls, growing quite frustrated. "Ouch," Andy scrunched her nose up; eyeing the way Páulo was parting Hermione's hair, preparing it for dye. "It is a myth," She said, brushing powder and foundation onto Hermione's cheeks, "but I just thought it would add a bit more fun to this whole process." Hermione bit down on her lip as Páulo smothered her hair with dye. "Aye am makeeng zee hare liter forst so zen I can highlite zee hair for perfection!"
Before Hermione knew it, she was sitting under a giant hairdryer, her hair down up in tinfoil for dying, her feet propped up against a mini stool as two girls squatted down and pedicure her feet. She inspected her acrylic French nails and smirked, looking up at Andy who was casually leaning against the front counter, harmlessly flirting with a cute guy that stopped in to wait for his girlfriend as she died her hair a frightening shade of ruby red. "Se lever! Get up! I will wash out zee dye now!" He announced, shooing Hermione towards the sink, forcing her head under the faucet. "I may be demandeeng but I will make zee hair fabuleux!"
With no doubt, when Hermione's makeover was finished, she was shocked to see her reflection. Páulo cut her hair about three inches above her shoulders, calming it from frizzy curls to lose beach waves. Her hair was a light mousy brown with thin, nearly invisible blonde streaks scattered throughout her fine tresses. "Páulo," She began breathlessly. "Thank you so much." She pulled out her purse, but Andy stopped her. "It's on the house, just go to your interview," She said, smiling.
Hermione shook her head. "Oh no, I can't. Not without at least leaving you guys a tip." Andy giggled. "I won't accept a tip from you, Hermione." Hermione finally gave in, heading towards the door. "Thank you!" She called and the staff at the salon waved goodbye, setting to work on other clients. She plucked some money out of her wallet and quietly left it on the counter, then hurried out of the building.
Hermione pulled up onto Fox Hill Boulevard, her fingers shaking against the steering wheel. "Oh…my…" She breathed, reaching 255 on the street, realizing it bended around the whole block! Pulling towards the black iron gate, a small speaker emitted a click as a deep voice began, "May I help you?" Hermione rolled down her window, resting her elbow outside against the car, removing the sunglasses from her eyes. "Yes, I'm Hermione Granger for—" "Thank you." The man said, opening the gate. She drove up a loopy road of smooth pebbles, surrounded by grassy fields and a small pond where she imagined a golf course connected to.
"I'll park your car miss," An entourage approached her window, holding out his hand to her. He opened the door and helped her out, leading her to the main entrance of the mansion. "Gerald will escort you to the office, Miss Granger." She stepped into the foyer; suddenly feeling underdressed in a beige business suit. She brushed her bangs to the side, smiling at the butler who she assumed was Gerald as he quietly led her to the double-door room. "The office, ma'am." He said, bowing beside the doors. He knocked and Paige's familiar voice responded, "Yes, come in!" With one last bow, Gerald disappeared, letting Hermione awkwardly step inside the office.
"Hi! Nice to meet you, I'm Paige Whitmore. My fiancé put the ad in the magazine but he's not here yet. Sit down—do you want something to eat?" Hermione sat in the chair before the spacious desk Paige stood behind. "We're so delighted that you're interested in this job. It's fun here, you'll see." She grinned happily, gathering a packet of forms in her hands. "My fiancé and I—we're getting married in two months so it's a little hectic, you know?" She beamed at Hermione's nervous brown eyes. "While we wait for him, could you just fill out this form, please?" She handed Hermione one of the papers from the pile along with a ballpoint pen.
Name: Hermione Gra— before she could write any further, the doors bustled open and a tall man in a business suit ambled in, grinning. "Sorry I'm late," He said, kissing Paige lightly. Hermione's mouth opened as he sat in front of her, averting his eyes onto hers. "Shit." He blurted out and Hermione instinctively stood, disbelievingly. It was too good to be true. Paige frowned. "Is everything all right?" She asked.
There was no way in hell she'd work for the Malfoys.
Just a silly idea I came up with about Hermione working as a maid for Malfoy.