The Inspectorate for Elfish Labour Conditions

Chapter 5: Draco

Music: Another Story, Nicholas Hooper (Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix)

Draco lay sprawled on the downy duvet, eyes wide and staring at the elaborate silk canopy crowning his four-poster bed. In the darkness of night, the silk had adopted a vague muddy grey colour, but he knew that in broad daylight the canopy would return to its original navy blue. It wouldn't be long before that very daylight would actually appear, as it was already beginning to hesitantly peek through the brocade curtains. Sleep had never been further away from him, though.

After he had safely returned Granger to her home at the Weasleys, Draco had evaded his disgruntled mother who had wanted to waylay him outside the Apparition Room and had hastened to his room. He had barely been able to keep himself from running. Upon closing the double doors behind him, he had leaned against the panelled wood and squeezed his eyes shut with a groan as raging emotions had completely overtaken his carefully composed impassiveness. It had taken long minutes before he managed to straighten up, pull off his jacket, and throw it across the foot of his bed, violently shaking his head to get rid of the memory of holding Granger in his arms. But despite his efforts, his hand had still drifted towards his cheek, where her lips had touched him, as he'd sat down on his bed, staring into the distance.

Due to Potter's weighty intercession on their case, it took the Wizengamot only a couple of weeks to acquit Draco and his father of any charges. The day the Wizengamot passed judgment on the accused Death Eaters, Draco impassively underwent the public reading of the sentence and even felt slightly disappointed with the outcome when the Minister of Magic's final delivering words sank in. He was free.

In the gallery behind him, his unemotional mother openly burst into tears, which vaguely surprised him. He avoided looking at his father's triumphant smile while his ears registered the outcry from the audience behind them. Little did they know that their outrage only reflected his own conflicted feelings on the outcome of the trial. Draco left the dock knowing that his acquittal merely served to accommodate Potter's sense of justice. His own feelings of guilt about his previous support of the Dark Lord were inconsequential. Moreover, the favourable sentence burdened him with an obligation much heavier than any assignment the Dark Lord could ever have placed on him - to make good use of the chance offered to him by a society which had morally condemned him.

Three days later, Pansy Parkinson unexpectedly showed up at the manor, congratulating him with a false enthusiastic smile on her face. Draco was surprised to see her, as he hadn't heard from her since his family had fallen out of favour with the Dark Lord. And he knew it was only his family's obvious wealth and standing which drove Pansy back to his doorstep. He reluctantly let her in.

His mother seemed glad enough to see Pansy again. Draco knew his parents were struggling with their part in the Dark Lord's demise and their isolated position in society because of it. But Draco only felt grateful that the three of them had survived the war and lived in relative peace. The last thing he needed was a visit from Pansy, with her rambling about the horrid treatment of her Pureblood family since Potter had defeated the Dark Lord. As he silently drank his tea, he formed his decision. When Pansy finally left, he politely but determinedly asked her not to visit again. She didn't take it well, but he was untouched by it.

It was halfway through the rainy August that followed a searing hot July that the letter from Hogwarts arrived, inviting Mr. Draco Malfoy to return to school and complete his education. All of the previous year's seventh year students had received the same offer. Lucius was sceptical, even offended by the idea that his son was to return to 'that' school again. But Draco silently looked down on the familiar emerald green writing, signed by Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, and considered the possibility. Though he was surprised to receive the unexpected letter, he found the idea of returning to Hogwarts for one last year rather appealing.

Ever since the war had ended, he had been going through the days without any goal or purpose, and he had never felt so utterly lost and out of place. The downcast atmosphere at the manor he could only escape during a walk through the gardens or on a broomstick ride across the county. Which he had been doing a lot lately. Reluctantly and following a lot of pressure from Potter, his family had been rewarded with an Order of Merlin, Second Class for their important role in the Dark Lord's defeat. They remained social outcasts, however. On both sides of the former parties.

Draco knew that his decision had already been made the instant that he'd noticed the familiar envelope between the other mail on the silver platter. There would be a real possibility that he was going to be avoided in school as much as he was on his rare visits to Diagon Alley, but he found that he didn't care. He felt that he needed the familiar surroundings, the structure, to accomplish something of his own.

"I'm going," he simply stated.

His parents didn't try to stop him.

He had missed seeing Granger on a daily basis after their graduation. Draco wasn't afraid to admit it.

Their collaborations in Potions Class had helped in keeping the loneliness at bay, and the memories of the Patronus lessons over the holidays were more precious to him than he would ever confide in anyone. As it had turned out, she of all the people in school had held no grudge against him. In fact, by the time the Patronus lessons had begun, they had long been past the figments of the heroine and the traitor other people ascribed to them, both silently acknowledging the scars that had been inflicted on the other's soul.

It had been only after his return home that Draco had started to realise the major influence Granger had had on his state of mind. Because of her, he could look at himself in the mirror again.

He had been positive his and Granger's paths would never cross again, save for a few chance encounters here and there. It wasn't difficult to keep track of her life, though. Her picture would often show up in The Daily Prophet, whether it was as a Ministry official in the serious section of the newspaper or on the gossip pages whenever she attended a ball with Potter and the Weasley family. Sometimes Draco attended those balls himself, but the situation never allowed for more than a polite nod at each other from the other side of the room.

About a year ago, however, his family had received a letter from the Ministry informing all families in possession of registered house-elves about new regulations to improve on the working conditions of house-elves. Draco remembered that his father had angrily smacked the letter on the table, furious about what he saw as yet another attack on wizarding privileges, but Draco had only bowed his head to hide his smirk as one name had crossed his mind. Granger.

He hadn't spoken to her in seven years years, but it was nice to see that she had actually achieved the goals she had confided in him before anyone else.

As Draco had expected, only very few former seventh year students had returned to Hogwarts. He was not surprised, either, that the majority of them were Ravenclaws. The castle had been restored to its former glory, although a few walls had been left a ruin as a reminder of what had transpired here. More than once during his eighth year, he found himself standing there in silent remembrance of those who had fallen.

Few people had noticed his presence up until the Start-of-Term-Feast, which he was silently grateful for, but then the Headmistress chose to welcome them by calling each of their names, and Draco had no choice but to stand up as well. As expected, the warm applause for the Ravenclaws changed into sharp hisses when he straightened to his full height. Looking at the Head Table, he tried to ignore the shocked responses to his presence, knowing that he had to get used to those if he wanted to survive the year. There also was another reason he kept his eyes fixed to the Head Table. As he was standing there, the object of whispered indignation, he felt the eyes of one person burning into his back. She obviously hadn't noticed his presence on the train to Hogwarts.

Upon their return to school, the Headmistress had maintained the function of the eighth years who had been Prefects before, so Draco had reluctantly joined the Prefects' meeting on the train. Taking position in a far corner of the compartment, he'd kept himself at the background, wishing for it to be over soon. He had been slightly disappointed that his situation wasn't even special enough for McGonagall to break with tradition and remove him from his position.

It was then that he had seen those familiar brown curls cascading down on delicate shoulders and the caramel eyes looking past him. The red and gold insignia on her school robes had identified the young woman as a Gryffindor. It was Hermione Granger.

Her presence in the compartment had knocked the breath out of him and an agonising emotion, which had been slumbering inside of him since a few months ago, had hit him with unexpected force. Guilt. Absolute, bottomless guilt toward the Gryffindor girl who had suffered so much at the hands of his aunt Bellatrix in his own home. Just when he'd thought that in escaping to Hogwarts he could put some distance between himself and this dark part of his memories, Granger's presence on the Hogwarts train reminded him of the very things he was seeking to forget about - all the wrong doings he'd seen and put up with and did nothing about, almost leading to the death of her and her friends. Gritting his teeth, he'd withdrawn into the shadows. Of course, he should have known that she would return to Hogwarts, too. That girl's inner Ravenclaw would never have put up with not having completed her formal education.

Almost all evening of the Start-Of-Term-Feast, he felt her eyes on him, and he was tempted to look up and see if she was as shocked to see him as he'd been to see her. But chances were that he would also be seeing hurt and pain in her gaze, and he knew that he couldn't bear that. Not again. For the remainder of dinner, he kept his gaze down and disappeared to the Slytherin Dormitories upon the first chance.

After he'd graduated from Hogwarts, the time really had come to try and pick up his life again from the scattered pieces left after the end of the war. While in school, he'd had a legitimate postponement of this confrontation with his post-war life, but he'd always known that on the other side of the school year, the black hole awaited him. He was still having nightmares of the time when the entire Death Eater community had commandeered his house, like a flock of Dementors had shrouded Malfoy Manor in darkness. The paralysing fear they'd spread around had only been broken when the Golden Trio had been brought in.

After his return home, he had ventured on a few visits to Flourish and Blotts and, on one of those visits, he had met with Astoria Greengrass. He remembered her as the younger sister of one his Slytherin classmates. She was someone whose proverbial Slytherin cunningness mostly consisted of her using her charms to get her way. The thing he liked the most about her was that she loved books.

Draco had a talent for Occlumency. The ability to compartmentalise his mind had been a merciful skill to shut down the horrible memories and help him through the day. Nevertheless, there were no mental walls high enough to shut down Granger's agonising screams echoing in his dreams as the torture of her by his aunt was played before his mind's eye, time and time again. There was a reason he hadn't proposed to Astoria yet. He didn't want her to be confronted with his nightly sufferings.

Draco sighed, pinching his nose as today's events replayed before his mind's eye. Granger had returned to Malfoy Manor to see the drawing room. The moment he had recognised her, he had known. He'd briefly wondered if the House-Elves Labour Inspection, or whatever it was called, was only a cover, a front, to be able to gain access to the former Death Eater's house. But as the inspectors had quietly discussed the task at hand, he had acknowledged this Slytherin way of thinking would have never crossed her righteous Gryffindor's mind. Granger always put her heart into everything, and improving the lives of house elves would have been her most important goal. If those inspection visits would also lead her to Malfoy Manor, that would merely have been...a convenient chance.

A day after his arrival at Hogwarts, Draco was summoned to the Headmistress' office, to discuss his duties as a Prefect. He wasn't surprised - he'd already expected as much. With her piercing, stern gaze, Professor McGonagall had scrutinised the impeccable appearance and polite expression of the young man quietly standing before her desk. The impression she got from the eighth year Slytherin seemed to please her.

Her old features softened somewhat when she said in a sharp but not unfriendly tone, "I will come to the point straight away, Mr. Malfoy. As you have noticed, all of the eighth year students returning to Hogwarts who have been Prefects before have been maintained in function for the upcoming school year. And although your behaviour as Prefect in the past has shown severe disdain for the position, in the whole existence of the school it has never occurred that a Prefect, not even Voldemort..." The Headmistress paused for a moment, but Draco forced himself not to flinch, "...has been removed from his or her position. I'm not willing to break with tradition, especially not considering your part in defeating Voldemort."

This time he did flinch. He was still touchy about that.

"However," Professor McGonagall continued sternly, "most of the students, or their parents for that matter, will not understand the delicacy of the matter. Therefore, I have decided that while you'll remain a Prefect in name, with the privileges that come with the title, you will not be allowed to give and take points from the other students and impose punishments."

Feeling that nothing he could say would change her mind and remove him from his position like he wished, Draco nodded quietly. "I understand, Professor McGonagall."

His reply earned him a knowing gaze from the Headmistress over the rim of her small glasses. It wasn't until he had already reached the winding stairs that she called him back, an encouraging smile lighting up her stern features. "I really am very glad with your return to Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy. I hope you'll have a good year. Good luck."

"Draco?"

The muffled voice accompanied by a polite knock pulled Draco from his thoughts, and he noticed the morning sun peeking through the curtains. Outside, the birds had started twittering hours ago. Suppressing a groan, he raked his hand over his face, sat up straight, and swung his legs over the bed. The door opened soundlessly.

"How was your night, dear?"

He blinked against the angry light that suddenly came in when his mother determinedly opened the curtains. Through the slits of his eyes tearing up, he saw her elegant, statuesque silhouette against the blinding light around her. It made her look unearthly, ethereal, and her blonde hair seemed to glow as she bent over, putting a hand to his shoulder. Over the course of the war, her features had lost some of their haughtiness, leaving only beauty. In her blue eyes, he detected a hint of worry. She knew about his nightmares.

Draco sighed. "I'm all right, Mother, only a bit tired. I didn't get much sleep tonight," he said, toning down his insomniac state of the night past.

A shadow passed over his mother's face at his words. "It's that girl, isn't it?" Narcissa's voice grew slightly colder when she spoke. "You shouldn't have accompanied her home, Draco, she isn't your respon―"

"She was, Mother, we went through this yesterday," he responded sharply, ignoring the headache coming up. "Or would you rather have had Weasley at your door?"

Narcissa remained silent. She knew her son was right. It could severely threaten their precarious situation if the Malfoy family was to be suspected of bringing any harm to Hermione Granger. "I suppose not."

Narcissa shot her son a piercing look, which he avoided, afraid of what she might see in his. Giving his shoulder a light squeeze she'd turned to leave when Draco said to the floor, "She will come back, you know. A repeat visit, she called it."

The words had escaped is mouth before he knew it.

Narcissa stiffened, but her reaction wasn't anything like he would expect. "Well," she said dryly, "you'll have something to look forward to, then."

Draco's eyes widened, but before he could respond, his mother had already closed the door behind her.

Draco considered it a relief that neither Potter nor the Weasel seemed to have cared enough to join Granger in her return to Hogwarts, and he gratefully settled into the school's daily routine, finding in his studies the peace and quiet he had so desperately been longing for for the last few months. It felt wonderful to be back in the familiar surroundings of Hogwarts.

He spent very little time in the Slytherin Common Room, where conversations died down and eyes warily followed him whenever he took a seat in what used to be his favourite hang-out place on the Chesterfield sofas by the roaring fire. He rather went to the library, instead. The quiet atmosphere in there provided him with a break from the suspicious scrutiny with which he was being followed by the other students. The books didn't judge him.

The first time he went to the library was after Professor Slughorn had teamed him up with Granger in Potions Class. He'd been looking around in search of a good place to sit when his eyes crossed a pair of familiar caramel ones. Sitting across from the entrance was Hermione Granger, looking at him from under her eyelashes. She hastily looked down when his gaze intercepted hers.

Draco's face darkened. He'd noticed that she'd been taking peeks at him before, and while he wanted nothing more than avoid the Gryffindor whose mere presence reminded him of events he didn't want to remember, she apparently couldn't just leave him alone like the other students. However, during Potions Class, Draco hadn't sensed with Granger any of the fear or loathing he'd been feeling with everyone else in school. Of course, she'd been wary of him as fate had unexpectedly squeezed her into a school desk with Draco Malfoy, but he had been surprised to notice that she of all people didn't seem to judge him.

In the aftermath of the war, Draco had resolutely distanced himself from the destructive ideology he had been born and raised in, sobered by the horrifying experience of the Dark Lord and his minions sponging off of his family. During this time, he had seen the absolute worst humans could possibly be capable of. But he didn't entertain any illusions about how he could possibly begin to apologise to Granger for what had transpired not only in his home, but also over the past seven years, so he chose to avert his gaze every time he ran into the Gryffindor instead.

Therefore, it was to his absolute horror that Professor Slughorn then ordered him to collaborate with Granger for a full double period of Potions Class. As he'd picked up his books, he'd silently wondered how he was to survive the upcoming two hours, knowing that ignoring the Gryffindor wasn't an option this time. Full of apprehension, he had sat down next to Granger, the expression on her face betraying that she too was unconvinced about Professor Slughorn's decision.

They had started making preparations in an extremely tense atmosphere, until he'd realised that he actually enjoyed working with Granger. She was skilled, efficient, and talented at Potions and, to his astonishment, she seemed to feel the same way about him, too. The occasion had led to their first civil conversation ever. It had been after they'd finished their task in what had become an almost companionable atmosphere, when she'd broken the silence with this unexpected question.

At first, he had been wary and defensive, but when she'd withdrawn he'd realised that Granger's lack of hostility toward him was a merciful relief from the way the other students treated him. As he'd fixed his gaze on the cauldron before him, he'd wondered how it was that Granger apparently didn't share the other students' loathing of him, though she was entitled to. When Granger had started piling up her books with a downcast expression on her face, Draco had acknowledged that it was because she had been there. Because she, like no one else at school, had been involved with the Dark Lord's demise. She knew what it was that had made him do the things he had done, either in favour of the Dark Lord or in Potter's. Two sides, same battle.

Granger had looked quite shocked when he'd suddenly replied to her question in earnest. The answer he'd refused to repeat. But Draco knew she had understood him, and when his gaze crossed hers in the library, he felt that there was still an opening.

With an inconspicuous nod, they acknowledged each other's presence in the library, and Draco chose to sit down not too far from Granger's book-filled desk. It was the start of his return to the library on a daily basis, not only for studying but also for simply being in the presence of the one person in school who didn't loathe his very existence.

A/N: Many thanks go to my beta Crimson Eyed Sakura. Thank you very much for reading!