Title: Hermione's Short Shorts!
Pairings: Various within the Harry Potter world.
Overview: A series of short stories/drabbles in which we watch the world of witches and wizards. Though the main character is Hermione, not all chapters/submissions will be about her.
Disclaimer: Actually, no, it's not mine. Thanks for asking though.
Skillful Knowledge Part Two – More or Less
Pairings: Draco/Pansy, Harry/Pansy, Draco/Hermione
Amile had stopped in with food at about noon. Hermione had absent-mindedly thanked the house elf, but hadn't paid any attention to what was going on at all. The food had been left on the desk, near her papers. Two hours later, it still hadn't been touched.
Hermione had spent all her time lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, not focussed on anything around her. She was thinking, deeply. She hadn't spent much time on reflection after the war – she hadn't been interested, because reflecting meant she'd have to acknowledge what had happened. Ron… was seeing other people. Harry and Ginny had broken up, for reasons Hermione didn't know. She spoke to neither boy anymore, and rarely to Ginny at all – Ginny had left the country, living in Australia now. The war had affected them all; in ways that no one would ever know.
And right now she was wondering how she got from Hogwarts to here.
Here wasn't the usual place for here either. Here was more in regards to the situation she currently found herself in. She looked around the room hopelessly. She had been left alone, except for the appearance of Amile.
The food was probably stone cold by now. Surprisingly, Hermione wasn't the least bit hungry either. Usually by this time, she'd be feeling faint, famished and fatigued. However, all that she was feeling now was distance. She felt as if she was out of the situation, it was as if she was out of her body, looking down at the bizarre situation playing out around her.
She figured it was because of the sudden change. Hermione Granger did not like change – things were supposed to work in a schedule. That's why she had been doing so well at Hogwarts, and so well at the Ministry. There were clear time limits, when you were supposed to be where, when you'd be done, how much work you had to do. It was easy.
This, she did not like. She was loafing around, doing nothing. She couldn't even bring herself to pick up a book to read it. She was so disinterested.
No, that wasn't true. The only real thing she was interested was why Malfoy picked her of all people. That, and what she was doing here. If he needed a tutor, he could have picked any number of people, and they wouldn't need to live at the Manor. No, there was something else going on here. Something larger than learning – unheard of, however, there was always room for stranger things before lunch – larger than the feud that still lay between the two of them – there was less and less space for strange things before lunch – larger still perhaps than Malfoy's pride and ego – alright, that's it, no space left at all! Hermione grudgingly listened to her internal monologue, and her now grumbling stomach, and walked to the desk, and tray of food, still rather listless. She collected the tray and walked back to the bed, sitting on it Indian style, with her left leg draping over the side of the bed and touching the floor. Leaving the tray sitting in front of her, she aimlessly picked at her food.
Taking a bite of the hard orange cheese – probably cheddar – she looked about the room again. What was extremely peculiar about this whole situation would be how no one had come to bother her yet. Knowing Malfoy like she did, she would've assumed that he'd be breathing down her neck to make sure she wouldn't sully any of the pure belongings of his family. She shuddered to think of another generation brought up under such archaic and bigoted ideals.
Glancing out of the window, she determined that it was likely close to five, the sun was dimming, low on the horizon. Soon it would be dark. The wind whipped through the trees on the expansive grounds around the Manor, it rattled the sparse leaves that still clung to the gnarled branches, and Hermione shivered at the dreary scene. Looking back down at the tray, she saw a mug of tea. She held it in both hands, raising it to her mouth, taking a sip of the still barely warm liquid. Hermione felt as the bitter taste flowed down her throat, a comforting feeling following it. For a brief second, she felt warm again. Then it was gone, and she shivered, looking about for her jacket. It was always cold, always wet. It permeated the bones, leaving a deathly chill, a clammy feel coming with it. Placing down the tea, she stood and grabbed her jacket, throwing it on. She then picked up her tea again, and wandered to stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom. To her own eyes, Hermione felt she looked lifeless, the sparkle was gone from her worn and aged eyes. She looked haunted. Her hair matched her general apathy, so she always kept it up. Her skin was pale, near gaunt, telling how she nearly refused to eat, putting in ridiculous hours at the Ministry. It isn't really living… it's not life at all. Angrily, she moved to the window, staring out at nothing at all. It had gotten darker since she last looked out, and she could see tiny flecks of snow on the breeze. It wouldn't last, it never did. Snow before January was near unheard of in England.
There was a noise behind her, and she turned to see the door open. Malfoy stood in the doorway. She vaguely nodded at him before turning back to look out at the grounds.
"Enjoying the view?" His voice was quiet, and held no audible malice.
Hermione shrugged, not wanting to get tangled up in whatever plot he was scheming. She could hear his footfalls as he moved closer to her. A clattering noise of metal on porcelain, and he spoke again.
"Not hungry?"
Courtesy demanded she reply. "No, not particularly." She muttered toward the window, not wishing to look at him. She knew in her gut that he was up to something, and she would not like it.
He was standing a few feet behind her, she could practically feel him. Question bubbled their way to the surface of her mind, an insistent buzzing confusion, insisting to be asked. She ignored them, as she ignored him. He sighed.
"Listen Granger, I understand I've upset your perfect life," the sarcasm was audible in that little jab, "but I have need for your particular skills, and your particular connections."
She turned, confused, to see an absence of the usual smirk on his face. He was completely serious. "What do you mean?" She inquired, rubbing a hand against the smooth surface of the mug.
He looked away from her, taking his turn to stare out the window. "I have suspicions. And usually I'd deal with them on my own, but the straightforward approach isn't working as I'd hoped it would. I don't know the people in order to get what I want to know, and she wouldn't tell me if that was so, she wouldn't answer me seriously."
Hermione felt a glimmer of sympathy for the man who had long been her enemy. She quickly squashed it, not wanting for her empathy to make her weak. People like Malfoy relied on that so they could use people like her. She didn't speak, letting Malfoy continue his tirade.
"I know there's something she's hiding. No one in either of our families have green eyes. She's always out at some function or another, not like I miss her misshapen face, but I'm sure the children mind. Usually I'd not include outsiders, especially not ones like you… but she's acting so oddly. So… off. She says things that make no sense, things that she's never thought before."
"Who are you talking about Malfoy?" Hermione interjected rudely, finally having enough with the vague nature of his rant.
He glared at her, making her cringe. He stared at her for a full half minute, before saying in the most contemptuous tone she had ever heard; "Pansy, who do you think?"
"I couldn't tell, otherwise I wouldn't ask." She spat out bitterly, moving to the desk to set her tea down. "I'm not helping you, regardless of what you want." She announced to the wall.
She could feel the power of his glare on her even though she wasn't looking at him. "You don't have a choice." His response was final.
"You can't hold me here." She turned to face him, eyes defiant.
"No one would stop me." He smirked, looking at his fingernails. "I did some checking up on you before I came to remove you from your job. Even if you are an exceptional asset to the Ministry, my funding is worth more than all you have ever done. No one cares about you – both of your parents are dead, you have no friends, you don't do anything but work. You have no life, nothing here but commitments and responsibilities. I always said it would happen, but I never thought it would be so soon." Draco gloated.
His words stung, more than they should have. It's because you know he's right. The inner voice whispered, and she ignored it deftly. "It's none of your concern what I do with my life. I'm not helping you." She tried to make the tears leave her eyes before the fell. She would not on her life have Draco Malfoy witness her cry. Not now, not ever.
"What do you have to loose in helping me?" He challenged.
"What do you have to gain?" She threw back at him.
He paused. "The truth. Weren't you always the defender of truth and justice, you as one of the Golden Trio?"
"Times change." She glared at him.
"Everything's the same. We're just a bit older."
The grimace on her lips turned to a snarl. "Then why me? If I'm just some intolerable mudblood, why do you keep me here?"
Draco had moved closer to Hermione, a few steps away from her now. "I told you why, you know people. You can find me the answers I need."
"I'm not some reference book you can pick off the shelf and then put down again when you're done. It doesn't work that way Malfoy." Hermione fussed with the necklace around her neck. Malfoy stayed her hand with his own.
"Look at me." His voice was controlling, without question she did as she was bid, looking up at his face. He was tall, taller than she remembered him to be. His grey eyes were severe, but didn't hold any loathing in them like she was used to. His eyes were just as tired as her own. "If there was another way, I'd take it. If there was another path, I'd find the way. But there isn't, so I can't. You're my only option right now. I need you to find out if these two children I have are my own, or if they belong to another man."
"Find it out on your own." She pulled away from him, knocking into the desk, and nearly falling over. Malfoy chuckled at her clumsiness, but quickly became serious again.
"Hermione –"
"It's Granger to you." She glared acidly at him, righting herself. He moved closer to her, effectively pinning her between him and the desk – the proverbial rock and a hard place.
"Fine then Granger," the emphasis on her last name wasn't lost on her either, "stop being so stubborn woman. Eventually you'll bow to my whim, and you know you will."
She snorted in disgust. "The day I bow to your whim, as you so kindly put it, is the day I give up on elf rights." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look, if this is all you wanted, you could kindly leave if you'll not be letting me go back to my flat."
Malfoy raised a perfect eyebrow, his tone dangerous. "Just because I let you use these rooms does not mean you can presume to kick me out of them. This is my home."
"I'm quite well aware of that Malfoy!" She grumbled at him, extremely frustrated. "Would you move yourself away from me?!" She tried to push him off of her, only to find that he was like a lead weight.
"Oh, is my presence making you uncomfortable muddy?" He chuckled, moving closer still to her trapped body, eliminating any escape routes she may have had.
"Yes, it is, so move yourself, or you'll be in a lot of pain!" She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring up at Malfoy.
He laughed. "Don't threaten me Granger. I currently hold your wellbeing in my hand." Abruptly, he moved away from her, walking to the door. "I expect to find you willing to assist me tomorrow. I will send Amile in to wake you so you may tutor the children. Good night." The door shut with a click behind him as he left.
The next morning, bright and early, Hermione felt something gently prodding her. "Wake up now Miss. Master Malfoy says you must be up."
Groggily, Hermione rolled over to see Amile shaking her arm. "Wha-? What time is it?" She blinked in the half dark of her room.
"Very near six Miss. Please get up now Miss. Master Malfoy is expecting you to be presentable for seven Miss." Came the squeaky reply.
Hermione sighed, and gently pushed Amile away. "Alright, alright, I'm up. Shoo please." Amile disappeared, and Hermione swung her feet out of bed. Stifling a yawn, she padded over to the bathroom, cursing annoying pureblood gits who thought they had the right to commandeer people from their respectable jobs. Hopping into the shower, she let the warm water ease her worries away.
After her shower, feeling much refreshed, Hermione carefully brushed her hair in front of the mirror, holding a soft cream towel around her. After subduing her hair to her liking, Hermione went to the closet and pulled out one of her work outfits. Letting out another long sigh, she pulled on a blouse, suit jacket and pants. Inspecting herself in the mirror one last time, she walked to the door of her room. With a pop, Amile appeared in front of her.
"Come now please Miss, Master Malfoy is waiting for you Miss." The tiny elf reached up to turn the brassy knob to Hermione's room, and led the neat witch down the hallway, towards two imposing mahogany doors. With scant time to admire her surroundings, Hermione was lead directly into the room, the massive wooden doors shutting softly behind her. In front of her was an oversized red cherry table, adorned with simple white linen, and four chairs. At the far end of the room, by the grand floor length windows, sat Draco Malfoy, sipping coffee out of a porcelain cup, and reading the Daily Prophet.
"Ah, there you are Miss Granger. I trust you slept well?"
"Not at all." She responded to his jovial and neutral tone with scorn and disgust.
"No matter." He folded his newspaper, and fixed her with such a stare as to inform a naughty student that they must behave. "My children will be up shortly, approximately eight, and will be quite eager to meet you." The unspoken 'don't disappoint them' hung clearly in the charged air between them.
"Very well." She hissed, being the first to break the stare between the two of them. "I trust I can find food, or do you wish me to starve?"
He laughed bitterly. "Don't be preposterous. Of course you'll eat, otherwise you won't be able to teach Miss Granger. I'll not be having such melodrama around my children, so cease this juvenile behaviour at once."
Hermione was immediately brought back to when she had been scolded at Hogwarts by McGonagal or Dumbledore. She fought the urge to look at her feet when she saw Pansy waltz into the room.
"Pookie! Good morning! I'm off with the giiiirls to go to Paris! Shopping, I do hope you don't mind." Her nasally whine, and shrill girly giggle made Hermione wince. "Oh, ew. Did someone forget to take out the trash, or are we doing some kind of charity for the tragically fashion handicapped that I wasn't told about hunny-buns?" Pansy's pug-nose scrunched up at the sight of Hermione.
"No, dearheart," he sighed, having difficultly keeping his tone pleasant. "She's here to teach the children. Why don't you head out? Have fun in Paris with your girls." Malfoy waved her away as Pansy flounced out of the room, with one last scathing look toward Hermione.
Not trusting herself to speak, Hermione scratched the back of her neck, not making eye-contact with a very uncomfortable Draco. A long pause, and then, "Um, you say I have no life, and you married that?"
He growled.
Late in the afternoon, Hermione looked out at the window while Draco's obedient children wrote down in there notebooks the basics of read and writing. She was shocked to see how well behaved spawn of Malfoy were. Very polite, paid full attention when she was talking, rarely spoke back… yet she did notice something odd about them. Like Draco had said, they looked somewhat similar to their mother, but nothing like their father. The girl, the elder at six, Cissica or Cici as she preferred to be called, had black hair like her mother, but piercing green eyes, and a slightly round face. As for the boy, Lucian, his hair was black as well, and his eyes blue, but the hair… unkept, and all over the place. And how he was built… gangly and thin, even for his young age of four. It reminded Hermione more of a very young Harry Potter than some child of Draco and Pansy Malfoy. Shaking her head, Hermione checked over their work as the door opened very quietly to show Draco Malfoy watching in his business suit.
"Very good work Cici, excellent effort Lucian. I think your father's here to see you now, we're all done for today." She smiled pleasantly the see the glee on their faces when the sprang up to run to their father. He nodded over their heads at Hermione, who stood up and brushed off her navy pants. Going through the other door she had been shown at the beginning of the day, she slipped from the room, and waited in the corridor for Malfoy, as he had 'requested'.
Moments later he arrived, sans the rugrats. "And?"
"Alright, I'm curious. But only this one thing, and nothing else!" She pointed her index finger towards his nose as he smirked, holding up his hands in placation.
The next few weeks followed in kind, with Hermione rising early to prepare to teach the children everything from reading to simple math (wizard type of course – plus some muggle stuff just for fun) to basic geography and history of both muggles and wizards. In the afternoons, she'd snoop around the house, picking up on the basic floor plan fairly quickly. Though it seemed complicated, it was actually quite simple, and repetitive. She learned her way around well enough to find Pansy's room, which was surprisingly separate from Draco's. So far separate in fact, they were at opposite wings of the house. Not like it seemed to matter to Draco, or the children even. Every morning, when Hermione arrived to eat, Pansy would be going, leaving some jab about Hermione's plain appearance in her wake. Through trial and error, Hermione found the best way to deal with this was to say a pleasant, "Good morning Missus Malfoy" as Pansy disappeared out the door. And every day, Pansy's scowl would deepen and deepen, as Malfoy would stifle a chuckle into his coffee mug.
One afternoon, while Hermione was rummaging through drawers in Pansy's room, she found an interesting little box. It was wooden, dark brown, and quite light. Curious, Hermione waved her wand over it, to find it had a relatively simple locking mechanism to it. With a word, it sprang open, showing dozens of opened letters on yellowing parchment. Hermione hesitantly placed the box down on the top of the dresser, and pulled out the neatly folded pieces of paper. Sitting down on the white stool in front of the dresser, she smoothed out the papers in front of her. A scrawl of black ink coated the page, messy but fairly legible correspondence between Pansy and some secret lover. Hermione had a nagging feeling that the style of writing should be very familiar to her, but she couldn't place where from. She heard the door crack open, and jumped, startled. Luckily, it was Draco. She hastily tried to hide the box and letters, but he had already seen them.
"So what have you found here?" He moved over to her, and raised an eyebrow. "And how did you manage to find my wife's room?"
Hermione shrugged. "Just resourceful I guess?" She played with a loose strand of hair, gradually shifting around Draco to reach the door.
She paused when he growled, and threw down the papers. He grabbed her arm painfully. "I expect you to find out who these are from Granger." Malfoy threw her arm down, and stalked from the room, visage full of rage.
Hermione gulped, and spoke a charm to replicate all of the letters. Putting those away in her pockets, she then carefully placed the letters back as she found them in the box, and placed the box back in the dresser, locked and secure once more. Soundlessly, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.
On the way back to her room at the other end of the house, by the front foyer, Hermione had the misfortune to run into a rather irate Pansy Malfoy, who quickly invaded Hermione's personal space.
"Look, I don't know what you're doing here mudblood, but don't think that-"
"I'm here to teach your children, Missus Malfoy." Hermione adeptly side stepped the shorter woman, concentrating on moving further down the hallway.
Pansy grabbed the back of Hermione's jacket. "Oi, listen here you lowlife! Just because my husband hired you to teach my children doesn't mean you get to be putting on airs in my own house!"
Hermione quickly adopted a very fake smile, and turned to face the most vile female. "Last I checked Pansy, dear, this would be the Malfoy Manor. If you don't mind, I have to be getting to my room. Thank you, and good day." The sweetly polite tone she was using could cut diamonds.
Pansy huffed. "I'm not done with you mudblood! You don't just get to walk away from me!"
"You've been using that insult since you were, what, eleven? Goodness, I thought that at the very least you would've grown up a little, even if your intelligence hasn't grown one wit." She unhooked Pansy's hand from where it clasped her jacket. "Plus I wouldn't think you'd want to use that word around your children. Especially with that Ministry function coming up soon. You do have something to wear for that, or is that abysmal ensemble an indication of your taste in fashion?"
Pansy blinked, speechless. Hermione walked away down the hall, ignoring the shrill shrieks of the heartless harpy, the information to undo her held safely in Hermione's pockets.
Please read and review! Next part should likely come sooner than this one, just one more to go.
