Leagues Away Chapter 10
Girls dream of a moment like this: being waited on hand and foot, exquisite cloth draped over you, adorning her neck and ears with precious metals. Then, when you look in the mirror, the girl is transformed as is finally seen as beautiful.
In reality, Hermione had an itchy nose and achy feet.
She'd been standing on a hard stool for over an hour, being measured, fitted into corsets, and being forced into dresses by two white haired men.
Their names were Twilfitt and Talling, identical twins who had apparently been in the kingdom since they apprenticed in the castle at age thirteen. They were a grumpily bunch, who seemed to forget Hermione could hear perfectly well.
Hermione hadn't been forced to stay so still in her life. If she were to move an inch either Twilfitt or Tatting would somehow stick her with a pin or they'd hiss in a low voice that only made Hermione flinch even more. If she wasn't careful she'd be the royal pin cushion instead of the royal tutor by the end of her fitting.
"Don't move," snapped the tailor, Twilfitt, through a mouth of pins, "I have to let out at the waist and you moving every which way is unhelpful."
"Sorry," Hermione muttered.
"Lowly commoner," the other tailor, Tatting, commented aloud, not even trying to hide his discontempt. "How the queen could stomach lending out her clothes- regardless if they're ones she hasn't worn in ages- what did we say about moving?"
Hermione had nearly jumped in the air. Was she really wearing the queen's cloths? Her personal clothes? "Is this what you're altering? The queen's clothes?"
"Yes yes, so kind and generous," Twilfitt disregarded Hermione's surprise with a wave of his tape measurer. "But I doubt that's the reason. More likely so that you wouldn't disgrace them in the halls by wearing your personal garments."
"Or at dinner." Tatting chimed in.
"Or when seen by guests."
"Refashioning her garments disgust me: I have to let out so much, but I must admit that the queen is a genius. She knows her dresses are the most exquisite, so that they draw attention away from this peasant's face."
Hermione's lips were pressed into a hard line as the two twats rallied one negative aspect about her after another. There seemed to be no end to the amount of nit picking details they could squeeze from her.
She's had a hope that the knock on her door this morning would be for breakfast, but instead it was a new maid who was instructed to take her to the tailors.
A knock came at the door, announcing the queen and duchess. Twilfitt or Tatting finally stepped away from her with their pins. At least Hermione could breath without fear of being prodded.
The doors swung, revealing the two sisters in similar emerald green dresses with gold accents. The women swept into the room with a certain grace that only came from years of etiquette and dancing lessons. Although they were dressed similarly, their expressions could not have been more different.
Despite the slight pucker to her eyebrows and lips that made it seem she was in a foul mood, the queen had an overall pleasant face. Her hair was combed to a silky softness and a single braid hung from the back of her head.
Behind her, the duchess was practically the twisted clone from the other side of the mirror. Her face was a sickly yellow parchment in coloring, hair matted and greasy. Someone had obviously tried to cover up the skin tone with pink cheeks and pulling back the hair under a headdress, but it only succeeded in creating a demonic doll. Perhaps Hermione's view of the woman had been twisted itself after their first hand-on-throat 'meeting', but it seemed like the woman had a few problems herself. Hermione would just have to keep some distance from the woman.
Narcissa's face broke into a warm smile, the distasteful face she wore melting away like snow. "Why Ms. Granger, you look wonderful."
"Your radiance cannot be compared, my queen." Twilfitt proclaimed, bowing so low his nose scraped the carpet.
"A beauty that is unattainable and revered by lower men." Tatting added, mimicking his brother's form. "We are blessed to be in your presence."
The queen's face was replaced by her expressionless demeanor as she stood over the two men. For a moment, it seemed as though the queen might yell at them or even strike them across the face. Why Hermione thought this, she wasn't sure, but all she knew was that was the poised body of a snake ready to strike.
"Oh stuff it you old meatbag." Came the raspy voice of the dutchess. She was glaring at the two little men with distaste.
The two men looked taken aback by the duchess's words, perhaps from the fact that they had gone about ignoring her up until that point. They glanced up at the queen through their droopy brows, expecting a rebuttal to her sister. Instead, the queen spoke in a flat tone, instructing them to get Hermione out of the dress and leave the room.
"But my queen," opposed Twilfitt, "the measurements!"
"You have taken them on other dresses, yes?" The queen snapped, gesturing at the nearby rack of dresses Hermione had worn. "I'm sure a woman's body does not change that much between dresses."
"Ah, yes, of course my queen." Tatting simpered, bowing low in apology. "We will be gone in a moment."
The twins bowed so low that their noses brushed the ground. They made quick work of undressing Hermione and scampered out of the room once Hermione stood in a more simple gown, one of soft blue layers.
Hermione glanced between the queen and the dutchess. The queen behaved unlike before, something had to have upset her between the twins or from before. And why had Bellatrix ripped into the men? Did they have a history? Perhaps it had nothing to do with the men, and instead had to do with sirens causing problems at sea.
None of these questions or speculations were spoken, nothing was said for the first few moments after the men left them. A stretch of awkward silence that Hermione was not keen on breaking herself.
"Please forgive them." The queen said, the smile she bore hardly reached her eyes. "They are overly complimentary men, nor do I entirely care for that personally."
Hermione nodded, although she didn't quite believe that was the entire story.
"Good, good. Well, I had wanted to come by and give you a list of items that the king and I want the prince to learn under your care. It will have to be a strict regimen, as we are under a bit of a deadline before his debut ball, but we believe each of these items to be vital." The queen stepped up to Hermione and gave her a tightly rolled piece of parchment. "I will be checking on his progress. Do not fail me."
"I will my queen." Hermione curtsied to her.
"I'd say good luck, but even that won't save us." Bellatrix cackled, sending a shiver down Hermione's spine. "The ocean's will soon rise and what a bloody day that will be."
"Bellatrix!" Queen Narcissa snapped at her sister, "Stop spouting such nonsense, or you'll stay in your room for the week."
Bellatrix only grinned and strutted from the room, head thrown back, laughing as she did.
The queen glanced back at Hermione with a grim expression. "My sister has not been well for says, please pardon her actions."
"Of course my queen. May I ask, has she improved over the course of her illness?"
The queen sighed, shaking her head slightly. "No, more of the opposite. She's been like this for years after he suddenly- well, she is receiving the best medical attention we can find. Enough questions for now, the one who should be questioned in my son. The first scheduled lesson is at noon in the library. Do not be late."
Queen Narcissa strode out of the room, and with a click of the door behind her, Hermione felt as if the queen sealed her to a fate of would be working with the prince near everyday whilst she tried to figure out how to save the bastard from the traitor who would kill him. Not to mention if she failed, then the entire world would be submerged in water. Only then would she be able to return to her home.
Good grief.
Hermione was heating up quickly under her thin dress. She was setting up for her lesson with Draco, and the subjects that the king and queen wanted covered was ridiculous at best. There were the normal topics of history, dancing, politics and relations; then, there were topics on geography and animal and plant life. Other topics littered the list, each far reaching and curious that she wasn't sure if she was qualified to teach them based off of her hobbyist reading. It would be difficult to motivate a selfish prick to do half of the assignments she would have to assign, but if Hermione knew one thing, she would have to rely on her own wit to get everything done.
It was nearing twelve, and Hermione had just set up a writing station with parchment and quills for Draco, as well as stacks of books that covered the range of topics the Queen wanted covered.
For the first time together, Hermione wanted to gage what Draco had learned and start him on a mixture of topics he'd find interesting and those she deemed necessary for court etiquette.
As she shifted the pile of medical books, she had somehow knocked over a large volume. The pages of the book fluttered open, rushing to the ground, but never reached it. Hermione was able to catch the book with her leg to the table. She could feel the crease she must've left on it and cringed. The poor book.
Hermione gingerly picked the book back up; The large volume was one she'd slipped from a high shelf, one with the Salazar snake painted on the spine. A range of years were painted atop the reptile, spanning a measure of years before her birth. She started smoothing down the pages, and some words caught her eye.
Hermione sat just out of the sunlight, in a cushioned chair and looked closer at the contexts of the book. Names Draco had mentioned earlier, of past kings and queens, leapt from the pages, but Hermione had been piqued by the name of Duchess Bellatrix. A portrait of her took up a majority of the left side of the page, a small introduction paragraph followed. Her spirits soared, maybe there would be something useful amongst the pages.
Bellatrix Black, eldest daughter of Cygnus Black III and Druella Black and elder sister to Andromeda and Narcissa Black. At a young age, she was viewed as highly talented and persuasive amongst the royals. It was said that her fierce devotion to the throne caught the eye of… and she passed away on her twentieth year.
Hermione blinked, glancing between the left page with Bellatrix's image and brief biography, and to the right that spoke of a woman's death. There, in the middle of the book, were loose binding threads that sewed pages into its book. Someone had removed the history of Duchess Bellatrix.
Hermione let the book fall closed in her lap, a hand pinching the bridge of her nose. So nothing about Bellatrix in the history books, and who would be so audacious as to vandalize the recording? Where would she find answers to her strange behavior?
Flipping open the book again, Hermione examined the torn pages. If there was nothing on Bellatrix, perhaps the next page could give her some clues.
Hermione glazed over the small portion of about Bellatrix and noted the new name 'Andromeda'. She'd never read it before, there wasn't a single mention of another Black sister in any other text she'd read.
"But if she died though," Hermione whispered to herself, reading the right page again with fresh eyes, "then maybe this is Andromeda."
Hermione plunged back into the book again, picking apart the lines about Andromeda.
It was said that young Andromeda had fallen ill during the Spell Caster War, for months she fought with her family beside her. By the war's end, Andromeda's body was weak and could not last. She passed away a week before her brother in law, Lucious, was named next in line for the throne. She was unable to see her family ascent the throne, but tribute to her kind nature can be found amongst the grounds of the family's estate.
The text went on to describe the short life of Andromeda, but there was nothing of note. She had been a lively girl who spent much of her time outside and in the garden. But Hermione was sure that Andromeda was not the reason Bellatrix went mad. Queen Narcissa had said 'he suddenly' not 'she suddenly'. Hermione didn't even know when the onset of the duchess's insanity began, and no text was going to divulge that to her.
Soft footsteps approaching registered in Hermione's brain. She glanced up to see Snape dragging behind him a disheveled Draco, his shirt half tucked and his hair ruffled and gleaming in the sunlight. He averted his eyes from the sun.
"Spell Caster Snape, Prince Draco good afternoon." Hermione rose from her chair to curtsy to the two men. "May I ask what brings you here Spell Caster?"
Snape sneered down his hooked nose, gripping the upper arm of the prince and pushing his forward. "This royal was in bed, and extremely late for his first lesson. I was told by Pettigrew to bring him here. If you don't mind, I have other business to attend to."
Snape swept from the room, his black cloak flying out behind him.
Hermione smiled politely as Draco tucked in his shirt and combed back his hair.
"Well, I'm glad to see you made it. If you would take a seat we can begin your first lesson. Your mother gave me a list of subjects and I thought we could start with-"
"You seem more of a book worm than a tutor." Draco cut in, brushing off a sleeve.
Snape had obviously not let the boy dress. He was standing before Hermione in nothing but a pair of pants and a white buttoned shirt that was not buttoned all the way up.
"I can easily be both, now if you would like to sit in the shade-"
"Yes, I would love to sit in the shade made by my own bed thank you. I have no desire to be here with you, nor does my mother need to know. So I will bid you a good day, I have other business to attend to."
Draco turned to leave, and Hermione's feet began moving before her brain caught up to her. Hermione stood firmly in front of Draco, her palm out in a sign of 'stop', which he ran into. Her fingertips brushed onto his chest for a moment before Hermione's fingers twitched away.
"I-You cannot leave until the lesson is over. Please, take a seat." Hermione gestured to a chair seated at the table of books with the hand that had just brushed against the prince.
Draco's eyes narrowed, his head turning to the side. "And what, pray tell, would a common girl teach the crown prince of Salazar."
Hermione drew herself up to her full height. Manners, manners is what she would smack into him if she could, and she would try her hardest to do so or else his future bride would have no more hair on her head to pull out from his insufferable attitude. "As a future king you need to learn when to listen and when to lead. You will not always have the answer, and that is why you have a staff and advisors to assist you and make your job easier. My job, is to prepare you for your future in terms of manners, diplomatic matters, and such information that will benefit you. If you would be so kind as to sit back down, then we will be able to start."
Draco stood before Hermione's smile, his face puckered and twisted, as if he was wracking his brain for some sort of retort that could render her floundering and pitiful. He grit his teeth and smiled.
Hermione gestured again and Draco turned back to the table, setting himself back in a comfy chair. He crossed his legs, folded his hands in his lap, and starred pointedly at Hermione.
"I am so glad to see you decide to stay. I thought, to start, I would like to gage your knowledge of the current status of the surrounding kingdoms. So if you could, can you tell me what you know."
Draco blinked at her, his eyebrows raising. "Pardon?"
"Ah, let me rephrase. I want you to-"
"No, no I understand what you are asking. Of course I do, but what baffles me is the notion of their importance, or why that is remotely relevant to my current situation. There's the Kingdom of Whinging, but they might as well be labeled 'magic hating prudes' the way they shun any magical arts and their exports are subpart at best. The oaf of a king is superstitious and against any negotiations he'll sooner let his kingdom wither away than accept help. He'll run the his little bloody thing into the ground, and if he doesn't do it, then his idiot son will take over and finish the job. They drive my father mad with their upturned noses.
"Then there's this place city called Spinner's End, which, I do admit, makes wonderful cloth, but they don't have a proper market for their craft. Rather, it's died down, shame, but the blokes they call founders made awful roads and location choices being up in fields. Most of the people are monetarily trapped and the food they grow is awful- sustainable- but I suspect our people eat better slop. Them and a handful of cities like Spinner's End all belong under this gray area between The Kingdom of Burrough and us, but I hardly think father wishes to take them in. They hardly have anything of use, and the burden of feeding and enforcing laws or taxes would be immense.
"Then Burrough itself is a trap to get into, and the floods they must get from being trapped in by hills- the fools. If we were to wage war they would be decimated. The kingdom is overpopulated and I hardly know how they run the bloody thing- the one instance I was there there were two naked, ginger haired boys running through the streets shrieking like banshees. The level of tact and sophistication of their royals was so utterly uncultured we cut our stay short. Those imbeciles hardly know how to run a kingdom, let alone their own people.
"Our cities are perfect by comparison, each city as a purpose. Fishing, textile, innovations, crops, the works- everyone has their own place. All except for this one miserable city a few miles away- I heard some of our staff lived there before coming to work here." Draco physically shuddered, his shoulders closing in together. "The smell when you walk in is utterly disgusting it makes my skin crawl. No one could get me near that place without proper compensation. Being near the ocean, you'd think they could be clean about it. If any worker brings back that scent I'd order them to bath that stench away- or leave entirely.
"Now, the closest one you could call any proper place of a 'kingdom' is, St. Catchpole, which you know is an isolated hodgepodge of farmers and idle workers who cannot even produce proper crops for their people. So tell me, why must I care about them? Any of them? They're filled with filthy beggars and those who despise work. It would be better to set fire to our fortune than disperse it to any of those ungrateful mongrels. They squander their resources and are too daft to seek anything out or put in their own effort. Having those people in my kingdom is not something I wish to see in the future."
As Draco ranted, his lips curling back at every mention of filth or 'other people', Hermione tried to keep her pleasant demeanor. He was naming practically each city or kingdom within a reasonable travel distance from Salazar. If he dared utter a word of his opinion to anyone outside the kingdom he'd surely start a war of some sort. That can never happen.
At Draco's pause Hermione clasped her hands together, a smile forcing its way across her face. "Well, you sure do know- That's- You have a sense of the surrounding areas, and we're going to start there. I would like you to read-"
"Pardon?"
"Yes, read, the act that not only keeps us from behaving like unintelligent, uncivilized animals but gives us a high purpose and understanding of the world. I want you to read about these places in the perspective of those who founded them, or have traveled there, and to tell me how Salazar could benefit in future relations with them." Draco opened his mouth and Hermione spoke faster, "This would give you an idea of how to continue on and make lasting relationships with other countries. Knowing what others need from you can benefit you further down the years."
The prince frowned, settling back in his chair with puckered lips.
Hermione stood before him, her breathing a bit shallow.
Draco leaned forward in his seat, smiling widely. Hermione's heart soared, had that really gotten through to him.
"No."
Hermione blinked, her smile falturing.
Draco leaned back in his seat, grinned even wider.
"Is there something you find unnecessary about the assignment? It is my job to teach you in the ways of diplomacy amongst other things, and this would teach you how to research and learn of the current states of surrounding nations."
"What I find unnecessary is this entire setup. I still cannot accept you as a tutor. You have no recommendations, and for all I know you never taught the prince of Durmstrang anything. So forgive me if I have reservations about a unknown, unheard of commoner waltzing into my castle acting as if she's seen the world when she's probably only read about it in a book. What good is that to me?"
Hermione breathed deeply, the muscles in her neck tightening. "As we spoke of before, my job is to prepare you for your future. You can easily contact the king and queen of Durmstrang about my usefulness."
"That would hardly prove anything to me."
Hermione tilted her head, surveying the boy. What in the world was he suggesting? More importantly, why was it so hard to convey to him that she needs to be there- more to protect him and the entire kingdom from being submerged underwater and being taken over by sirens, but to teach him some manners nonetheless.
"Would you like me to prove it to you somehow?"
Draco pursed his lips, uncrossing his legs and using that momentum to swing himself onto his feet in front of Hermione. She felt inferior by how she had to crane her neck to look into his eyes. The prince nodded once, and side stepped her.
Hermione whirled around, glaring at the prince as he walked to the nearby table with her pile of books. He casually picked one up, one of the mermaid lore ones, and opened it. "I'll make you a deal."
Her ears perked up at that. "Really now?"
"Yes, you prove to me that you know how to settle a diplomatic dispute and I'll go along with whatever lesson you wish to teach. No questions."
Hermione folded her hands in front of her, her smile fighting her to stay where it was. She could see where this was going. "And did you have anything specific in mind for that?"
He closed the book and glanced up at her. "Oh, I think you know what I'm getting at. My father can't close the deal with Amos, so you do it. Get him to agree with my father."
During his talk, Draco had sauntered closer to Hermione, closer than he'd ever been. Hermione struggled, her body twitching to keep its appearance, to maintain her positive persona. He leaned down to murmur in her ear, "Do we have a deal?"
Against her better judgement, Hermione responded, "Yes."
"Wonderful," Draco said, leaning back and grinning as if he'd just pulled the wool over someone's eyes. He might as well have said 'I expect absolutely nothing from you' too.
He turned and left the room with a whirl of fabric.
Hermione sank down onto the chair he'd occupied moments before. What had she just agreed to? She's, not only, to project him from the end of the world but gain his trust to do so. To do that, she has to prove herself. All this just to go home.
What was she to do?