Summary: Solone Lourdes' maid work in the Malfoy Manor proves to build more distress than what she had initially dreamed of. Her employer, Lucius Malfoy, is harsh, biased and sinister, but just how much can the small, hardly menacing twenty-six-year old Latin-American witch do to lighten the murky core of this Pure-blooded wizard? Saving the neglected House-Elf Dobby from further neglect winds up a mission as well, one that bears potential to harm her in turn.
COS-centric. AU.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the Malfoys for that matter. All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. (I do own Solone Lourdes).
Rated M for language, violence and mature themes.
Chapter 1: A Biased Interview
The peaking steel gateway ahead the extended gravel trail sent both sparks of elation and chills of apprehension down Miss Solone Lourdes' spine, her scheduled interview for the housekeeping position at Malfoy Manor depriving her of tranquility and minimizing her confidence.
She was a Muggle-born Spanish-American with shoulder-length, thick and curly black hair, almond-shaped dark brown eyes, tan skin and a petite frame. She had a slight accent that was soft and melodious to the ears of many, sounding as if she were a visitor from the sensuous country of Spain itself. She grew up in the vast countryside of New Mexico, just outside of the humid Mexican border, and her family owned a farm. Her mother was a History teacher for a local high school and her father sold off the vegetables born from their crops.
Solone got her admittance letter to Salem's Academy for Witches and Warlocks via a stray, raggedy brunet owl on their doorstep shortly after her eleventh birthday. Her family was baffled at the announcement, as was she, but she was also brimmed with excitement. All her life she had felt different from the other schoolchildren in many ways, and now arrived the potential explanation for her mysterious telekinetic tendencies and ability to heat up a cup of tea with the touch of her index finger.
Solone had moved to England shortly after graduating from the Academy, after having no luck in landing an occupation in the Magical Field in her location in the States. She had heard of the job offerings in London, and one that caught her interest was nursing for an infirmary. Upon moving, she reckoned that she could begin her career in St. Mungo's or Wononon's Facility of Magical Healing. Unfortunately, she discovered that both of her sought interning habitats were booked by the time she managed to settle in across the pond, and they would be until further notice. Hope slipped out of reach when neither of the clinics got back in touch with her in the months that followed.
Eventually, she ended up doing maid's work in various places, most commonly in a low-rate hotel or a private estate. She earned little wherever she went, and was virtually bound to her small and run-down flat. However, one particular morning in the late summer of 1992, she looked through that day's issue of the Daily Prophet to see an ad on the second-to last page that called for the need of a housekeeper for the Malfoy Manor. Pay would by far surpass what she'd ever received in her array of jobs, so she was more than eager to take up the open position. There was but a single condition for this placement, that being the witch must be pure-blooded. This had ruffled some feathers on the young woman's part, but she reasoned that perhaps she could do some bluffing when she met this Mr. Lucius Malfoy employer, and tell him that she is of a pureblood status if questioned. At this point, she was desperate for work after suddenly getting laid off from her last stint at the Pepperidge Inn.
She wrote a letter to the manor describing her availability for the opening, telling of what hours she could work, how she could clean and cook meals for the family of three and do whatever else was required of them. She attached the envelope to her elderly owl Isla's leg, and sent her off from the balcony. The bird would return just two days later with a reply from Mr. Malfoy telling her to meet him at the Manor located in Wiltshire that Friday at ten a.m sharp for further discussion.
She squealed happily at the acceptation, tempted to celebrate with a night out in town with her cousin Esmeralda who lived nearby, but restricted herself with the reminder that money was tight, but if this meeting with the estate's owner went smoothly enough, she wouldn't be so poor for long!
Her breathing was uneven and her pulse was on the brink of wild. On the manor's patio she nervously stood after ringing the doorbell. She wore her best and most formal black silk dress that she had worn in her teenage years for family get-togethers and parties back in New Mexico, her feet clad in an old pair of black mary janes. Her favorite Revlon lipstick adorned her lips and plenty of mascara was applied to her already dark and thick lashes. Her hair was wound up into as neat a bun as she could manage, the hairband nearly snapping at just two twists, and she struggled to fasten the hairpins in place to keep the more hyper curls from springing out, not that her possible boss-to-be would likely mind, but she didn't want to take that petty risk. This was just what she needed right now, and she was going to do all she could to impress the high-class, professional, aristocratic businessman.
A small and frail elf answered the door, dressed in nothing but a dirty rag-like potato sack covered in holes and stains. The maid gasped at the sight, startled. Was this creature forced to don such sparse clothing? Actually, the rag that just hung loosely over his shoulders and stopped at his ankles didn't qualify as real clothing at all. This worried her, but she decided not to give it too much thought, for she had more crucial things to worry about at the moment.
"Miss Solone Lourdes? 'Tis a pleasure to meet you," spoke the short creature with a bow and a shrill voice, really flattering the witch before him.
"Hello, what is your name?" she asked, bending down a little ways to shake his hand and present him with a kind smile.
"D-Dobby, madam. So kind it is of you to address me with a hello...Dobby is rarely addressed to as such…"
His feeble comment made Solone exceedingly wary. "You live here, yes?" she asked.
"Y-yes, ma'am. Dobby works under the orders of the Malfoy family! To them Dobby serves and obliges to their every demand for the generations to come."
Now concern really surfaced for his sake. "You are not...being held here against your will, are you?"
Gulping and massaging his too-slender forearm, he mumbled, "Technically speaking, madam, I am required to-"
"DOBBY!" a male voice boomed from a distance down the main entrance. The spindly creature went notably stiff and a dreadful expression overtook his features as fast-approaching footsteps could be heard along with the swift thumping of a walking stick. Solone peered past the opened door to see a tall man sporting a black trenchcoat that was long enough to billow above the polished floor as he strode. His silky blond hair ran all the way down his back, and his light gray eyes were intense and bore hypothetical daggers into the confines of the skittish elf at the threshold.
"Did I not tell you to merely open the door and allow Miss Lourdes in?" he snapped once in their proximity.
"Yes—N-no! No, sir! You did indeed inform Dobby as such!" Dobby sputtered back, wincing while he spoke.
"Then why is it that you decided to hold a conversation with her, when I rather specifically told you to lead her into my office without so much as a peep out of your mouth?!"
"D-D-Dobby is terribly sorry, sir!"
"Really, it is alright," Solone interjected with a laugh, in an attempt to lighten the situation up. "He is quite a gentleman. In fact, he ought to be rewarded for his greetings."
A cold set of glaring eyes locked onto the soft brown hues of the young lady who still stood outside the doorway on the patio. Those same eyes raked over what nicely placed curves she had as well as what ample cheekbones and pert breasts she owned. He kept his gawking brief for obvious reasons. He had an interview to get out of the way that morning. There was no more time to waste.
A crooked simper stretched out on Mr. Malfoy's face. "Run along now, Dobby." He spat his name out as if it were a mouthful of goblin piss. "I'll deal with you later," he finished with a mutter, sending a fresh chill down the woman's spine.
As the neglected elf scampered off, Solone was presented with a pale, masculine hand. "I'm awful sorry about that, Miss Lourdes. Come inside, won't you?"
She nodded, placing her considerably smaller and tanner hand in his to shake. Stepping in, she was taken aback at the view of the spacious main entrance. The foyer was dimly lit and sumptuously decorated, a magnificent forest-green carpet stretching over the stone floor. Portraits aligned the corridor in which the two currently stood, the faces on them being mostly pale and bearing blond or black hair.
"Right this way," he spoke amiably. His tone was of very high class to the witch who followed him down the enormous and drafty room. To her, the interior as well as the exterior of the estate was gorgeous, but if one characteristic could alter at her will, she would definitely add some windows to allow more natural light into the home, for it was gloomily dark in here.
"I'd like to thank you for responding to my letter, Mr. Mal-"
"Please," he cut in, "feel free to call me Lucius."
"Oh, alright, Lucius," she replied sheepishly, still nerve-wracked for their upcoming discussion. They stopped before the seventh door down to the right of the home's main hallway. Lucius turned the transparent crystalline doorknob that Solone believed to be molded of pure diamond. This man must have been wealthier than she had imagined prior.
"After you," he said, stepping aside to provide leeway as he held the door open.
Blushing, she wandered into the office. Two well-cushioned chairs sat before a clean and organized desk holding a quill dipped into a small pewter bottle brimmed with ink, some parchment and a stack of papers. There was a single window to the right side, though not a glimpse of sunlight had shone into the room since the deep violet curtains were still closed. The room itself was not too large, maybe the size of an average classroom. There was a fireplace to the left side of the room, a large armchair placed before it along with a throw rug. A broad portrait depicting the front of the manor hung on a wall above a table where a candle holder with multiple prongs containing five lit candle sticks and a lucid glass flask at its side were. The air was stuffier than what Solone was comfortable with, but she dared not say a word about it. Though, would a bit of fresh air or sun have hurt the man?
"Would you care for a drink before we begin? Tea? Water? Merlot?" he asked as she sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
"Oh, no, thank you," she replied in something slightly more audible than a whisper. She heard the door shut abruptly enough to make her flinch in her seat. She knew she was overly paranoid. If she were to just say the right things and level up to this man's expectations, then she would surely obtain the job.
"There is but a single circumstance that I need to, ahem, make sure of before we start anything," Lucius declared in an almost stern tone, successfully absorbing all of her attention and accommodation.
"Yes?"
He had yet to take his own seat as he ogled her dead in the eyes, as if trying to seek out her soul. Keeping his stare glued to hers the entire time, he inquired, "You are of a Pureblood status, correct?"
Pinning down the urge to quirk an eyebrow back his way at that odd and earnestly nonsensical regulation, she lied, "Yes, I am."
The lightest of smirks grew along his pale-pink lips as he took his seat. "Alright then. We may begin."
"Um, if you do not mind my asking, Mr.—Lucius, does my bloodline matter in the hiring?" she asked, almost regretting doing so in case she were risking an immediate dismissal, right then and there, the opening something to forget.
His smirk faded, transforming into a frown. "Well, obviously blood status plays a dire role in our community, Miss Lourdes. I find that the more pure one's blood is of magic, the better that particular person can perform the given task, even if simple. You see, in the Magical World, Purebloods are naturally the most diligent and thorough in whatever it is they are destined to do, whereas a Mud—em, Muggle-born, is simply not equipped to carry out order to the community in the proper way a Pureblooded individual can. As my restriction stands, I only hire those who are born into Pureblooded families, with the occasional exception of few Half-bloods when and if they prove themselves sufficiently worthy of my consideration. Is that comprehensible?"
A nod returned his way, though on the inside, Solone was close to fuming. None of what he said was in any form true. He had shown her his cut-and-dry prejudice. She could only pray that he would not critique her for her evident Latin race. At this point she was about ready to flip him the middle finger for his rude and extremely biased overstatement and march out of the manor, and heck, probably even take that suffering little elf with her as she did so, but her brain had beat her heart's desires and forced her to remain stuck to her seat, the lack of action likely shaming her ancestors greatly.
"I've taken notice of your Spanish accent...I'd wager you did not grow up here in Great Britain, am I right?" he asked, folding his hands over the desk and studying her every fiber, directing his full attention to her and her only.
"Yes, I grew up in New Mexico, in the United States," she replied, fearful that she'd say something that would make her lose her chance of getting hired.
"Ah, I see...and what school did you attend?"
"Salem's Academy for Witches and Warlocks in Massachusetts. I graduated from there in 1984."
"Mm, interesting. What is your date of birth?"
"June 25th of 1966."
"How long have you been working as a maid?"
"I started my work at the Hyncroft Inn when I was eighteen and worked there for two years. I was then offered a job as a Governess at an elderly witch's private estate, and I worked for her as a nanny for her great-grandchildren until a few years ago when she passed away. Since then I have been working at various hotels and properties where there is hire...yet, even in my years of built up savings I have made too little, unfortunately. I noticed your ad in the Daily Prophet recently and-"
"Pardon my interrupting, Miss Lourdes, but I must ask, are you only seeking this position for the salary?"
At that, she felt her cheeks go aflame and her heart pounded vigorously within her chest. How exactly was she to answer that without appearing conceited? He himself reeked of arrogance, but that did not mean she had the authority to do the same in his presence.
"If that is my reason, sir, is that, um, bad in your eyes?" She swallowed hard after making that statement, mentally chastising herself for sounding so stupid. However, his expression softened as he leant back into his seat and shook his head.
"Not at all. Why, that is in all actuality, highly reasonable. I'd be baffled at a different cause to your arrival."
Why did he even pressure that on her in the first place, then? Was he just pestering her for his own amusement?
"Who was that elf out there? Does he work for you as a servant?" she asked, breaking the silence that had gradually crept in.
"Not that he is of importance to this discussion, nor any for that matter, but he is our House-Elf. He does serve my family and myself, just as he is obliged to. I am presuming that your family did not own one of them, considering your ignorance to the market."
Again, she felt her face flush beetroot at that insinuation. The way he let 'ignorance' pass his lips in such a vulgar and even cruel tone made her want to give him a piece of her mind, but alas, she just couldn't let herself do anything obscene towards him.
"We did not...Market?" she couldn't help but ask. She did not miss the swift roll of his eyes after she spoke, his annoyance blunt as ever.
"Of course you are aware of the Ministry's House Elf Localization Office? There you can purchase however many of them as you please. Often, they are auctioned off to the highest bid per elf, though sometimes a group of elves can be sold at quite a deal. Dobby, the nasty little vermin you met, has been serving our kin for the last twenty years."
A disgruntling feeling erupted inside of her. She had gotten a wicked vibe from this man. In the past she had worked for haughty and superior men and women who vented a nature akin to his, but never had she been faced with anyone this chilly.
"Now, to move on, I would like to discuss the duties you are to accomplish if you are chosen for the opening," he announced, that dark and haunting tone of his never dying. She especially didn't like the sound of that 'if'.
"My estate includes forty rooms, each of similar dimensions. Occasionally, we have guests over for a night or a weekend, and when that occurs, they use one of the bedrooms upstairs. When a guest arrives, you shall tidy up the room; make it immaculate, fit for a queen. The dining area can be a common attraction for spiders, so if cobwebs begin to drape around you need to dust every nook and cranny of the very room we eat our meals in, which should be of no difficulty, I'd presume. See that the floors without carpeting are polished and the laundry needs to be taken care of. As of now the elf does most of the cooking, so overall, you keep this home spotless and tidy, agreed?"
She nodded.
"Well, I will discuss what your income would be with my wife, Narcissa, later on. I will contact you if you have landed yourself the position. From there on I will give you your shift and working days. Chances are you'd be getting your weekends off, but my spouse and I will give the final say when the time arrives. It was a pleasure meeting you, Solone."
He held out his hand again and she took it shakily. Smiling, she mumbled a quick "Thank you" before rising from her seat and making her exit.
...
Lucius had very little contemplating to do, for she was not even close to what he'd define as idealistic, according to his preferences. The entire twenty-two minutes they were within one another's vicinity she was a stammering, jittery, fearful little woman who asked too many questions. He had her actual blood status to verify, for she was oblivious to House-Elves for Merlin's sake. And frankly, he had never thought too highly of Mexicans, for the ones he knew were all the same with their inscrutable tongue and infectious diseases. Oh yes, he'd heard about the country's permeated water supply and dishes that made tourists sick for weeks. He didn't need to visit the country to confirm this; he just acknowledged it, as if it were instinct. Though he had to keep in mind that he would not be judging little Miss Lourdes for her race, and maybe he could even pardon her blood status, whatever in Godric's name it really be. The alluring woman had certainly captivated his interest, more so than she herself could ever understand.
To his discouragement, he had another five interviews lined up for the next week, though he was certain that his mind was already made up. Still, he had to do as Narcissa had wanted, and pluck up the best maid he could. He knew that the wife would like to have an older woman of English descent keeping their home pristine, and not having this twenty-something Latina gal strutting about their home with her ageless face and naturally risen bosom harassing the sights of her former bachelor of a husband, but in truth, that was just what he craved.
Not three minutes had passed in Solone Lourdes' departure when he'd come to a set-in-stone decision. He was going to render her his.