The Inspectorate for Elfish Labour Conditions
Chapter 2: Regarding Workplace and Equipment
Music: Harry In Winter, Patrick Doyle (Harry Potter And The Goblet of Fire)
More than six years had passed since Hermione had last stood on the exact same spot before the wrought-iron gate barring the entrance to the grand estate. It felt like yesterday that she'd seen the white peacocks strutting around behind the unforbidding hedges bordering the approach to the magnificent manor. Back then it had been spring. Now the birds almost seemed to disappear against the snow that covered the formal gardens.
"Wow." The young inspectors were clearly impressed. "White peacocks."
A bitter smile ghosted across Hermione's lips at seeing the stately country-house again. Thinking back to the run-down estates they'd already visited this morning, she felt a bit relieved that Malfoy Manor seemed to have escaped their fate. Nonetheless, a shiver ran down her spine at the grim sight of the manor rising above the long drive. Hermione took in a shaky breath. She reminded herself that there was nothing left to be afraid of anymore. She couldn't back down now. Not now that she was so close.
'Courage, Hermione', the witch mentally steeled herself and pressed a trembling hand to her pounding heart. It was time. More than time. She quietly followed her trainee inspectors and resignedly underwent the uncomfortable treatment of being temporarily reduced to smoke as they passed through the gate.
Halloween arrived at Hogwarts with wind and rain lashing the leaded windows of the ancient castle. Around that time, Ginny had gone down with the flu and failed to attend Potions class, and Professor Slughorn hastily decided to partner Hermione up with Draco Malfoy for the full duration of the double period Potions class.
The grinning jack-o'-lanterns floating through the classroom seemed to mock Hermione's dismay when she watched as Malfoy untangled himself from his school desk and turned around. For the second time this school year, their gazes met. There was a wary look in Malfoy's grey eyes, but to Hermione's astonishment, he didn't object to the professor's decision. Instead, he gave a curt nod and gathered his books. The normally boisterous group of seventh years Gryffindors and Slytherins grew painfully quiet as ten pairs of eyes followed Malfoy moving over to Hermione's desk.
The narrow school desk was far too small for two adults. It was an awfully awkward moment when Malfoy sat down and his left arm and leg were pressed against Hermione's right side with no chance of escaping the touch of his limbs or the warmth of his body. She even caught the faint smell of soap on him. Hermione couldn't suppress her body growing rigid at Malfoy's sudden proximity. If the Slytherin noticed her reaction to his closeness, he didn't show it, instead keeping his eyes fixed to the blackboard. The only one who seemed to be satisfied with the situation was Professor Slughorn, judging by his complacent smile.
Several moments passed by in which neither of them moved, until Hermione drew in a shaky breath and opened her Potions book. Her voice held only a slight tremble when she quietly started to read the instructions to the difficult potion they were supposed to brew today. Much to her relief, Malfoy took this as a cue to reach for his silver knife and start following her directions on the preparation of the ingredients.
Several very tense minutes followed in which the seventh year NEWT-class watched with bated breaths as their eighth year classmates quietly got started on their potion. But whatever reaction they were waiting for, it failed to occur and finally they lost interest. The buzzing in the classroom returned as the other students opened their textbooks too.
It all went right over Hermione and Malfoy's heads, though, as they settled into a quiet collaboration in which Hermione read the instructions in a hushed tone and Malfoy skilfully cut and bruised the ingredients, adding them to the substance Hermione stirred just the way the book described.
It was when their potion had assumed the silvery colour it was supposed to have that Hermione was surprised to realise that Malfoy was good at Potions. Though she had never thought him to be dimwitted, not like his gorilla-like friends at least, Professor Snape's favouritism towards Malfoy had always clouded her judgment on his behalf. Somehow, seeing his actual talent at the subject eased a little of the bitterness she had always felt about that.
Hermione was reading the next instruction when she suddenly came to a pause and frowned. The instructions told them to add a bit of aconite to the potion.
"This can't be right," Hermione let slip the remark.
To her surprise Malfoy unexpectedly added, "It will counteract the effects of the thorn-apple."
Hermione was baffled. She barely managed to whisper, "Precisely," as she watched him getting up from their desk. With her lips still parted in surprise, she followed him with her eyes as he asked the Potions Professor for some yew instead, rendered speechless by his both expert and civil reply.
Upon his return, Malfoy folded himself into the school desk again before neatly cutting the yew into small portions and adding it to the brew. Then he sat back, waiting impassively for Hermione to finish the stirring.
Silently, Hermione acquitted herself of the task while looking at him from the corner of her eye. They had been working together for more than an hour in what had been an almost companionable silence, as if it had been the most natural thing in the world for them to do. She inconspicuously studied his sharp profile and marvelled at the change in him. Gone was the angry, frustrated boy she'd known. As always since she'd first seen him in the Great Hall, he was sitting perfectly still, his cool grey eyes fixed on the steaming cauldron before him. There was an unreadable expression in his eyes as he waited patiently for the professor to come over and assess their potion. Hermione had already been intrigued by the change in the blond Slytherin, and today only added to it.
Malfoy eventually seemed to notice her stare because his face darkened. Since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, eyes following him with suspicious scrutiny everywhere he went had become an integral part of his life and, as Hermione expected, he wasn't at all happy about it. It had been an experience Harry had been all too familiar with, often by Malfoy's doing, and someone other than Hermione would probably think along the lines of 'he that mischief hatches, mischief catches'. But Hermione held no grudge, and the way he accepted her gauging look without comment only piqued her curiosity.
She hesitantly put down her wand. "What has brought you back to Hogwarts, Malfoy?"
The tentative question broke the carefully maintained silence between them and lingered in the air long after the quiet sound had dissolved in the collective noise of a boisterous NEWT-class during a practical. Malfoy flinched slightly at her words, and a parrying expression momentarily passed over his features, before he had drawled coldly, "I wasn't aware that I'm not entitled to complete my education, Granger."
Hermione's eyes widened. "That's not what I meant…" she started to defend herself until she cut herself off. "Forget it." That was right. His sharp words reminded her of whom she was talking to, drawing the line between them.
Swallowing her disappointment, Hermione looked up at the small cellar window above, suddenly painfully reminded of the uncomfortable position she was in right now. Alone, the desk almost been too small for Malfoy; together, they were trapped in it. In a vain attempt to avoid him, Hermione aimlessly started to pile up some books, hoping for Potions class to be over soon. That was why she didn't see the quick glance he shot her as doubt or perhaps even insecurity flashed across his face. Hermione placed the last book on the pile when she heard his voice, close to her ear.
"Anything to get away from home."
It was a soft reply, almost too soft to catch, and when Hermione turned her head in shock he was already staring stoically at the dusty blackboard again. "Wh...what?" she asked hesitantly, not sure if she'd heard it right. Had he really answered her question in truth? In some sort of confession even?
His face set at her confused response. "You heard me," he said curtly and got up.
Their potion won twenty points for each of their Houses.
The walk down the straight approach felt like the longest walk in Hermione's life as each step took her closer towards the house where it had all happened. This time around, a pale sun softened the grim manor's appearance, making it somewhat easier for Hermione to control her nervousness. When they finally reached the impressive front doors, they didn't open under the influence of house-elf magic as Hermione had expected but instead swung open at the hand of a wizard appearing in the doorway.
Something stirred in her stomach as Hermione recognised Draco Malfoy, looking down on the inspectors with a reserved gaze in his steel grey eyes. His family had probably wanted to make a good impression by answering the door themselves. The Slytherin had changed little since his Hogwarts days. In the past seven years, his sharp features had matured, of course, making him even more handsome in the present, and his shoulders had broadened some more. But his short light blond hair was still parted at the side, like Hermione remembered. He seemed to have abandoned his usual black attire, though. Instead, he wore a pale grey polo neck that complimented his cool eyes. It softened his otherwise impervious appearance.
Standing tall in the doorway, Malfoy resignedly listened to the inspectors explaining their business with the Malfoy family, and Hermione wasn't sure if he'd noticed her presence until his cool gaze came to rest on her. Something flickered in his eyes that Hermione couldn't quite place, and it disappeared almost the same instant she'd noticed it.
"Granger," he addressed her a bit stiffly. "I didn't know you would be honouring us with your presence."
"I'm accompanying the trainee inspectors on their first round of compliance visits," Hermione replied formally, a wary expression in her eyes.
For a moment, they watched each other in silence until Malfoy stepped aside. "How very…diligent of you," he commented tonelessly and let her in.
Winter came to Hogwarts early that year. Though it was only November, the grounds were covered with thick layers of snow, and a Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor during the blizzard led to Ginny's hospitalisation after an unfortunate accident with Bludgers. Appearing almost giddy over the unexpected windfall, Professor Slughorn once again instructed Malfoy to take Ginny's place in Hermione's desk, as he recalled the excellent quality of their last potion.
Hermione hadn't spoken with Malfoy since their last collaboration but for an occasional acknowledgement in the library. She had grown accustomed to his presence there, as he'd apparently discovered that the peaceful atmosphere was, in fact, very fruitful for things like studying instead of sneaking away with Pansy Parkinson. He seemed to prefer the militantly-maintained silence in the library over the boisterous Slytherin Common Room. A reprieve from his housemates, no doubt.
Her gaze trailed toward the eighth year Slytherin who was sitting alone in his desk at the front. Seemingly unaware of Ginny's absence, he'd taken a seat in his usual spot, but she noticed that he had yet to unpack his bag. Normally, he would have already done so. When Professor Slughorn called his name, he merely picked up his satchel and crossed the classroom with a few long strides. With glistening eyes, the professor instructed them to brew potion number 164 and sauntered off.
Hermione felt a bit helpless as she once again found herself squeezed into the small desk with Malfoy, a tin cauldron in front of them. The Slytherin hadn't moved, apparently waiting for her to pick up her book just like the last time they had worked together. She silently did so. Turning to potion number 164, Hermione quickly assessed that the brew looked rather difficult to make. A subconscious sigh escaped her, and she was startled by a low whistling sound next to her. Malfoy was leaning in slightly, one eyebrow raised as he studied the textbook in her hands.
"That potion is worth more than ten galleons a litre on Diagon Alley," he mumbled, and Hermione looked from the textbook to the cauldron sitting between them. Way above NEWT-level, it was a potion that students would normally not be asked to create, because of the level of difficulty.
"But this cauldron contains…"
"Nearly ten litres," Malfoy finished her sentence for her.
Despite themselves, their eyes locked in silent understanding before they went to work with a fleeting smile on their faces.
Malfoy Manor's magnificent hallway immediately jolted Hermione back in time. It suddenly felt like just yesterday that she'd been dragged across the opulent marble floor, up the grand staircase, and past the elegant family portraits in the corridor. With a heavy heart, she let her eyes wander across the lavishly decorated entrance with the imposing fireplace across from the front door. Only the rich seasonal flower bouquets were new and added a delicate scent to the overwhelmingly luxurious atmosphere.
Hermione felt Malfoy's eyes burn into her back as she took a few hesitant steps forward and let down her hood. She swallowed, knowing that the grand staircase led to the drawing room she feared the most - and wanted to see again more than anything in the world. Bellatrix LeStrange's cackling laugh echoed through her head and she closed her eyes, trying to fight back the dark memories that tried to overtake her senses, when suddenly the sound of the front door closing snapped her back to reality.
Light footsteps approached her and then she heard Malfoy say to the trainee inspectors, "If you'll follow me, the kitchen is this way."
Turning around, Hermione met with a wary gaze in piercing grey eyes before he led the way to the kitchen with brisk strides.
The final week before the Christmas holidays Ginny received permission to skip Potions class to train for the upcoming Quidditch match, the last one before winter break. Arriving alone in the classroom, Hermione sat down at her desk and looked at the door expectantly. A minute later, Malfoy entered the classroom and he started to edge his way through their classmates towards his desk as usual, but then he turned around and caught Hermione's gaze. She nodded in acknowledgement and a moment later, the Slytherin slipped into the desk with to her.
He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Training?" Malfoy inquired simply as his gaze flitted restlessly towards the window.
"Yes," Hermione confirmed with a sideways look, grabbing her Potions book in the process. The game between Gryffindor and Slytherin was due next Saturday.
When Professor Slughorn entered his classroom, his full face lit up in delight at seeing his two eighth year students sharing a desk again. Rubbing his hands, he sauntered over and instructed them to brew potion number 257.
He'd already turned to leave when Hermione's clear voice called him back. "Erm, Professor…?"
The professor looked over his shoulder as Malfoy watchfully turned his head. "Yes, Miss Granger?"
Hermione seemed to have given him a bit of a start, but a hesitant smile now formed on his thin lips as Hermione smiled up at him sweetly. "Might I suggest another potion for Malfoy and myself to brew? Something a bit more…challenging?"
Malfoy reluctantly followed their exchange. He wasn't sure what Hermione was playing at, nor if he wanted to have a part in it. He warily watched as Hermione handed her Potions book to their professor, pointing out a page. The professor picked it up with interest when he suddenly turned a fantastic shade of purple, shoved the book back and took to his heels with a curt nod. His eyebrows raised in mild surprise, Malfoy leaned forward to examine the book himself. Underneath the names of each of the potions, Granger had written down the expected profit in galleons. The highest amount was written underneath the potion she had suggested to Professor Slughorn.
A muffled snicker involuntarily escaped him, and Hermione looked up to see Malfoy biting back his laughter, his eyes glistening with sincere admiration. And for once, she was glad for her bushy hair to hide her fierce blush.
Malfoy Manor was in possession of an enormous kitchen. It wasn't as big as the ones at Hogwarts, but still huge.
Despite their best efforts to maintain a professional attitude, the inspectors still gaped at the magnificent stoves, the marble floors, and the gigantic rough-wooden workbench at the centre. Its short table legs were specially fashioned to the height of house-elves. Small windows placed high up the walls betrayed the kitchen's location near the cellar. When the inspectors entered the kitchen, four house-elves were already lined up before the workbench. Each one was dressed in spotless white pillowcases. Their ears bobbed a little as they stretched their fragile necks to look up at the visitors with big, true-hearted eyes.
Hermione watched as Malfoy quickly descended the three steps down to the kitchen, taking a back seat as he leaned against the banister, arms crossed before his chest. He seemed a bit nervous, though his gaze didn't betray anything.
A small smile tugged at her lips. Good, he should be nervous. His family's history regarding the treatment of house-elves wasn't a particularly good one, after all. She had to admit, though, that the first impression exceeded her expectations. The pearly white pillowcases, the entire kitchen having been made at level with the house-elves - what she'd seen so far was the best of all the houses they'd inspected thus far, and she had to admit she was surprised.
As Hermione took in Malfoy's kitchen, her trainee inspectors waved their wands while muttering a charm, and two long scrolls appeared with a pop. The parchment was crammed with flowcharts that looked difficult to follow.
"Those are your making?" Malfoy mumbled at Hermione while the inspectors started with asking the house-elves for their names, his gaze fixed on the parchment floating in the air. "I'd say yes," he established dryly before Hermione could respond. "Those forms look like the inspectors needed at least three years of training just to understand them."
From the corner of her eye, Hermione cast him a searching look, but he didn't seem to mean any harm. "Only three months," she admitted. "Along with other training."
The two of them then silently watched as the inspectors moved from questioning the house-elves to inspecting the kitchen equipment. Charmed tape-measures whirled around table-legs and kitchen units while the Ministry workers wandered around, pulling open drawers to inspect. Their white gloves went over almost every part of the kitchen, examining its safety, until they turned around and nodded at Hermione.
"Mr. Malfoy, could you show us the house-elves' dorms, please?" asked the male inspector, and Hermione felt that beside her, Malfoy straightened up, distancing himself from her.
"Follow me," he said curtly.
Christmas was the most beautiful time of the year at Hogwarts, starting when Hagrid dragged gigantic spruces into the castle and Professor Flitwick decorated them with delicate glass and silver ornaments. Downy snowflakes whirled down from the enchanted ceiling, and students took the opportunity to go skating on the Black Lake before the Hogwarts train would take them home for the holidays.
On the day of her departure, Hermione had spent all morning packing her trunk and, on her way down to the Entrance Hall, decided on impulse to take a look at the Great Hall to see the result of Professor Flitwick's work. Though she had not intended for it to happen, tears flowed down her cheeks at the sight of the Christmas trees lined up in the Great Hall, which had been restored to its former glory.
Then a big white handkerchief was put in her hands.
"I know," a shaky voice with a Scottish accent said quietly. The normally so reserved Headmistress then pulled Hermione into a quick hug and smiled. "Off you go now, Miss Granger. The train won't wait."
Hermione gave Professor McGonagall a watery smile and, donning her cloak, she was headed for the doors when she noticed the blond man, apparently frozen in his steps, staring at her from the Entrance Hall with a grave look on his face. Malfoy. His gaze was fixed on her wet cheeks, but when their eyes met, he flinched and retreated quickly into the shadows.
Hermione followed suit, heading for the exit. She felt caught, having been seen crying by Malfoy of all people, but she also noticed that he was still in his school robes. He would not be going home for the holidays, that much was clear. It wasn't until Hermione stepped into the carriages that would bring her to the Entrance Gate when he reappeared outside, his silhouette sharp in the light from the hallway. A pang of pity shot through Hermione's stomach as she watched his lonely figure, the Slytherin scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. On impulse, she opened the small carriage window and leaned outside. When their eyes met, he held her gaze until the carriage had set into motion. The last thing she saw of him was his black cloak billowing in the cold winter wind.
It was easy to forget about Malfoy in the warm Christmas atmosphere at The Burrow, where her parents had arrived just before their daughter. But when the first presents were unpacked and Hermione sat on the windowsill of Ginny's bedroom to watch the snow fall to the sound of Ginny's even breathing, her thoughts trailed back to Malfoy. And she caught herself wondering how his evening had been, celebrating his Christmas Eve at school, probably being ignored by the few teachers and students who'd stayed behind too. The atmosphere at home must have been very tight if he preferred that above going home for Christmas.
A resolution formed inside her and quietly Hermione reached for her wand. "Expecto Patronum!"
Since Ron and Harry had to work during the days between Christmas and New Years Eve, Hermione decided to go back to Hogwarts early. That way, she would be able to study for her upcoming NEWTs and give Ginny some time with her mother. Her return was a quiet one. When Hermione entered the Great Hall for dinner, a small Slytherin, two Hufflepuffs, a fourth year Gryffindor Hermione recognised as Dennis Creevey, and a Ravenclaw second year all sat at the one House Table left, as was tradition with Christmas. And sitting a bit to the side was Draco Malfoy.
After some hesitation, Hermione sat down between the eighth year Slytherin and the Ravenclaw, bridging the gap between Malfoy and the other students. It earned her surprised gazes from the younger students, but Hermione only greeted them politely and then turned to meet with a pair of cool grey eyes acknowledging her presence.
After a moment in which none of them said anything, Malfoy broke the silence. "Merry Christmas to you too, Granger."
A smile formed on Hermione's lips at the subtle but sincere gratitude in his quiet reply. Outside, the wind howled around the castle as their golden plates were filled with steaming food. And over at the Head Table, the Headmistress allowed herself an indulgent smile.
A/N: I hope you'll like this chapter and thank you for reading!