The Inspectorate for Elfish Labour Conditions

Chapter 6: Inspection Report

Music: Queenie Searches For Jacob, James Newton Howard (Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes Of Grindelwald)

After Granger's visit to Malfoy Manor the weeks quietly passed by, and as the house-elves brought out the Christmas decorations, Draco became immersed in assessing the grant applications for the family charity foundation, which he had founded a few years ago. He was glad that he had something to do while waiting for the inspection results to arrive.

Draco preferred not to emphasise the charity's ties to his family. Therefore, the foundation was neutrally named Wiltshire Wizarding Foundation. His strategy worked. With a disposable budget the size of a small country's GNP, the fund had gained a respectable position in the wizarding world over the last six years. As chairman, Draco was gaining influence in the wizarding world like his father before, but this time based on totally different values. When choosing the beneficiaries, he preferred small projects over large, conspicuous ones and often requested to remain anonymous. It had done some good to the dark reputation of the Malfoy family.

Even more important was that the work - which had initially only been meant to help him through the day - had started to grow on him. Much to his father's surprise, Draco had declined to enlist an assistant, as he found the applications an interesting read, if not slightly amusing at times. The proposals, ridiculous as they were sometimes, showed that the wizarding world was recuperating, and that notion was of such importance to him that he would happily make an annual donation to the Broomstick Association's activities to support broomstick riders in the Middle East.

Draco spent his Christmas Eve in the Great Hall alongside the few other students who would be staying at school over the holidays. Sitting at the corner of the table, he quietly ate his elaborate dinner, fixing his gaze on the Christmas tree opposite the table. He didn't try to take part in the other students' cheerful chatter. The sparkling decoration reminded him of Granger's glistening tears when he'd seen her in the Great Hall this afternoon.

Granger had been looking at the trees being decorated with such a peculiar look on her face that he couldn't help but pause his step and watch as she'd accepted a handkerchief from the Headmistress. Never before had he seen such sorrow on her delicate features. His stomach had wrenched with guilt, and suddenly he'd felt a strong urge to walk up to the Gryffindor and wrap his arms around her as tight as he could. The sensation had cut off his breath and he'd stumbled back into the shadows of the Entrance Hallway. He didn't know if she'd seen the shock on his face when she'd turned around and looked in his direction. He hoped not.

But it had been this very feeling which, despite his reluctance, had driven him to the castle entrance to watch her leave for the holidays. His eyes had followed her as she'd petted the Thestrals and stepped into the carriage, her red and gold scarf billowing in the cutting wind. This time, he hadn't concealed his presence when she'd looked over her shoulder and caught his gaze. For a short spell, their eyes had locked in mutual recognition of the other's hurting amidst their boisterous younger classmates. Despite the cold, a warm feeling of gratitude had spread through him. His step had been much lighter when his feet had carried him back to the Slytherin Common Room and back to his book.

Draco left the Great Hall as soon as they'd finished dessert, glad to be able to return to his book and the blissful quiet in the Slytherin dormitory. That was, if he was allowed the precious time, because the sound of hurried footsteps following him reached his ears as he briskly walked down the Viaduct Entrance and into the Dungeon Corridor. His face darkened when he understood that he was being followed by the small first year who had stayed at school during the holidays as well. The boy was trying to keep up with the eighth-year's long strides, complying with the rules by following his Prefect back to the Slytherin Dungeon.

The situation made Draco feel quite uncomfortable. Over the past few months he'd gotten used to being ignored and avoided all the time, and he certainly wasn't looking for a revival of his responsibilities as Prefect. But the first year was following him nonetheless. Upon entering the Slytherin Common Room, he immediately headed for the dorms like he'd been planning on doing, loosening his tie along the way. His book was waiting for him. Then he was stopped by a soft, hesitant voice, calling out to him.

"Look...there's Christmas presents underneath the tree..."

The words lingered in the air as Draco closed his eyes and sighed soundlessly. He slowly turned around and finally acknowledged the first year he'd been trying to shake off. The boy was standing in the middle of the Common Room, looking frail and small in the grim, dimly-lit space. He looked up at his Prefect with an odd mix of anxiety and hope on his face.

Draco was momentarily taken aback. With the unexpected address, the first year had broken with the Slytherins' silent rule of not speaking to the eighth year student in their midst. The boy had said something to Draco Malfoy. Something about Christmas presents. The young Malfoy cast a look at the Christmas tree next to the monumental fireplace. Until now, he hadn't paid much attention to the spruce decked in Slytherin colours, but now he saw the packages underneath the lowest branches.

Draco lingered on the staircase, unresolved. Something withheld him from simply ignoring the little boy and continuing on his way up to the dormitories. He actually felt for the small first year, whose name had escaped him, that he was so unfortunate to have been left behind with the despised Draco Malfoy.

Draco had some inkling as to why this was. The boy came from a fanatical family of Death Eaters he'd personally known. Most of its members had died or ended up in Azkaban. The little boy had been placed under custody of the Ministry and had entered Hogwarts this September. Though he was a rather sweet-natured boy, the ideas he'd been taught to believe in had already caused problems in his class, something Draco had been made aware of while overhearing other Slytherins talking.

It was something Draco definitely wanted to steer clear from, but now the same first year was looking up at him, the only Slytherin Prefect left, as his implied question hung in the air. Draco hesitated. His book was waiting for him and he didn't feel like playing happy Christmas time. Especially not with a boy who was the very embodiment of the past he'd turned his back on. But as he looked at the first year, Draco only saw a child longing for some semblance of Christmas. With a hollow feeling inside, he recognised the loneliness which had driven the boy to address the eighth year whom the other Slytherins had taught him to avoid. Which for that reason alone was, in fact, a rather brave thing to do.

Sympathy for the boy eventually made the decision for him. Sighing inwardly, Draco acknowledged that unpacking one present with the first year wouldn't hurt. His book could wait. He nodded curtly and came down the stairs. In response, the boy's lips curled up in a smile and he made a run for the Christmas tree near the enormous fireplace. Half an hour later, the first year went to bed a happy child, carrying a book about Quidditch teams sent to him by a barely known second cousin, while Draco indifferently put on the new gold watch with the Draco constellation engraved upon the silver dial. A gift from his parents.

Draco threw himself on his bed and stared at the green canopy above him with a grave look on his face. Unpacking presents with the first year had painfully reminded him of his lonesome, isolated position in this world, where even most of the teachers treated him with some level of caution. He was still a long way from finding a way to give his life meaning again. His thoughts involuntarily trailed towards Granger. Fate had squeezed them into a desk at Potions Class three times in a row now, and he'd been genuinely surprised by her open attitude towards him, although he didn't understand what it was that excited her interest in him. He felt he didn't care, though, as he was just grateful for her friendliness.

A hint of a smile ghosted over his lips when he thought back on the prank she'd played on greedy Professor Slughorn. He'd never thought she would be up to a thing like that, but she'd surprised him again. Draco wondered how her Christmas Eve had been. He knew she would be celebrating Christmas at The Burrow. Her parents would be there too, he'd overheard the female Weasley saying in Transfiguration Class. It was quite amazing what one could find out by just minding one's own business.

He sighed and reached for his book, wishing for this dark two weeks of winter solstice to be over soon, so that he could be immersed in school routine once more. Although he would not admit it to himself, he'd started to keep track of the female Weasley's training schedule, looking out for another chance of partnering up with Granger again. If he was correct, Quidditch practice would prevent Weasley's sister from attending Potions Class again in a week or two. It was something to look forward to. Draco's expression darkened when he realised the path his thoughts had taken and he opened his book with more vigour than necessary.

"Draco Malfoy."

Draco shot up straight, pulling out his wand in the process. A voice. A soft, tinkling voice with an ethereal ring to it had said his name.

Warily, he looked around. Then his mouth fell open. Amidst a sea of shimmering silver light swam a lithe creature, swimming in the air. It had some sort of animal form and as he scrambled up, Draco had realised that he was looking at a Patronus. An actual, corporeal Patronus waiting for him to recover from his shock. It took several moments before he recognised the species. It was an otter.

Draco was mesmerised by the spectacular sight. He had never seen a Patronus before, though he had known that the members of the Order of the Phoenix could all conjure one. Potter had even managed to master the extremely difficult and advanced spell in his third year at Hogwarts. This couldn't be Potter's Patronus, though. He tentatively went to sit at the foot of his bed as he kept his eyes trained on the materialised light before him.

"Yes?" His voice was a bit hoarse as he responded to the creature. He didn't know that Patronuses could speak, but the otter's tinkling voice made shivers run down his spine.

"I bring word from Hermione Granger," the otter revealed his origins, and Draco's eyes widened.

"Granger?" he brought out.

"She wishes you a merry Christmas and hopes you had a nice Christmas Eve."

For a moment, the otter lingered in the air as its words died away, then it disappeared in a glistening mist. Dumbstruck, Draco kept his gaze fixed on the spot where the otter had last been swimming. His thoughts were a mess of amazement, fear, gratitude, and strangely enough...hope as he let himself fall back onto the bed. The reason why was beyond him, but amidst the seasonal festivities, Granger had thought to think about him of all people. And not only had she thought about him, she'd also gone to the trouble of sending him a Patronus message. When he finally picked up his book, a smile graced his lips.

Though he generally kept a low profile, as chairman of the Wiltshire Wizarding Foundation, Draco regularly received invitations to attend charity events. He rarely accepted them, choosing only the ones which had something to do with rebuilding the wizarding world after the war. Those were the times when he sometimes encountered Hermione Granger and her friends, whose presence alone lifted the prestige of the organising committees.

Draco rarely stayed longer than absolutely necessary, politely awaiting the moment the beneficiaries had finished their speeches of thanks to their contributors, without whose donations the new hospital wing or library wouldn't have been realised. The appreciation and the inevitable applause he would accept with a modest nod and a toast. He often felt the curious gazes of the other guests resting on him as he would raise his glass to elegantly return the crowd's attention to the beneficiaries. He considered it progress. Curiosity was better than hostility.

There was one date on the social calendar, however, he had no opportunity of avoiding and which Draco dreaded the most. The First of December. The day of the annual ball of the Order of Merlin. It was the most anticipated social event of the year and featured heavily in the celebrity section of The Daily Prophet. The fame of the invitees, all Order recipients, attracted thousands of wizards and witches to the Diagon Alley Theatre to watch the red carpet entrance. They were willing to wait for hours to see a glimpse of their idols entering the theatre - in the pouring rain of course, as the weather never held on the first of December.

During the longest minute of the year, Draco was forced to walk down that red carpet, feeling completely out of place with the gold medal and purple ribbon of the Order of Merlin Second Class adorning his black dress robes. While fixing his eyes on the lavishly decorated doors of the theatre on the other end of the red carpet, Draco always tried to ignore the gazes staring at him while he silently cursed Potter for putting him through this social agony. Sometimes, he even wondered if Potter had meant to punish him with insisting he receive this honour he never asked for.

Each year, his presence at the event ripped open wounds that were too fresh to have even healed properly. And each time he had to face the red carpet and the enormous crowd around it, he knew that the medal on his chest reminded people of who he was and what his family was accountable for. At this very instance, all his hard work for the family foundation was forgotten and he had to start all over again in convincing the wizarding world of his good intentions. Only to see the progress he would make be crushed again the following year. Declining the invitation was not an option, though, especially since his parents downright refused to go, so he had no choice but to undergo the humiliation stoically and hope that someday showbiz reporters around the red carpet wouldn't conclude their comments with mentioning his former allegiance to the Dark Lord.

Despite all that, he still received many dreamy sighs from quite a lot of witches standing in the crowd as he walked down the drenched red carpet, spoiling his dress shoes. He considered it mere eyewash. He knew that this social event would put him, Potter, and Weasley together in a shared centrefold in Teen Witch Magazine. It was all in the game. He was never more grateful to reach an open door when he would finally go through the entrance to the theatre. Each year, he had to resist the urge to gulp down the glass of champagne being offered to him before he entered the ballroom. The rest of the evening, he simply had to wait until the appropriate time had come for him to leave, which was after the arrival of the First Class laureates.

First Class laureates always entered the ballroom after the Third and Second Class laureates and within that group, Potter, Granger, and the Weasleys were the last to arrive. From his place assigned to him and the other Second and Third Class laureates, Draco would watch with an impassive expression on his face as the First Class laureates arrived, among which were many former members of Dumbledore's Army and members of the Order. The only time his interest was sparked was when Granger entered with the Weasel, preceding Potter and Ginny Weasley.

Upon The Golden Trio and Ginny Weasley entering the ballroom, the other laureates would bow their heads in respect. They were royalty, kings and queens in a society which had never had such a thing. It was a moment in which Draco would carefully raise his eyes and look up at Granger through his eyelashes.

Each year, she was an ethereal vision of beauty with her curls put up in an intricate design and dressed in a simple yet splendid silk ball gown which was an ode to her gracious figure. It was the only time of year she would wear a shade of green to complement the Slytherin green ribbon of her Order medal that rested against her delicate neck, and each year the sight took his breath away. Her presence at the ball was the only thing that made this annual agony bearable for him.

New Year's Eve had arrived when the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom opened quietly and a hooded figure slipped inside. The time had moved into the wee hours and the classroom was dark upon his arrival. The young man didn't waste any time as he immediately went over to his usual spot before the blackboard. When he threw back his hood, the moonlight shining through the windows lit up white blond hair and revealed a troubled gaze. For a moment, the young man looked at the empty desk to his side before he sighed wearily and pulled out his wand.

Draco had been lying awake all night, his thoughts filled with anger and self-doubt following the grave disappointment he'd faced the day before, until finally he'd jumped out of bed and threw on his dressing gown. It had been the first time since he'd come back to Hogwarts that Draco had gone to sit down on the Chesterfield sofa in the Slytherin Common Room and stare into the dying fire with an empty gaze. He'd felt exhausted. Seeking to accomplish a corporeal Patronus had quickly become the major purpose of his presence at school. Somehow, he'd felt that mastering the advanced piece of light magic would at least partially redeem his actions of the past. And perhaps it would appease the guilt eating his heart as well. Therefore, he had sunk his teeth into it, determined to succeed in the one spell which set apart the Light side from the Dark.

But despite his willingness, light magic had mercilessly put him in his place. Draco now knew that no matter how many times he denounced his old ways as a former follower of the Dark Lord, he would never be able to conjure a full-bodied Patronus, the symbol of the good. And no encouraging words from Granger could remedy that.

Groaning softly he'd lowered his head.

"What's the matter, young man? You're waking me up with all this racket."

A reproachful voice breaking the silence pulled Draco from his miserable thoughts. He didn't have to turn to know it was the portrait of the once-famous but now long forgotten alchemist that hung on the wall next to the corridor leading to the boys' dormitories.

"It's nothing, you can go back to sleep now," he replied dismissively, getting up. So much for fleeing to the Slytherin Common Room.

The grimy portrait, however, narrowed his eyes. "Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. No, it's not nothing, young man. I've seen you – had the pleasure of following you through the years as I might add - and this year has been the most interesting of all."

Draco suppressed a sigh. "That's nice, old man. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"No, I'm not yet finished with you, Slytherin Prefect," the old painting cried out indignantly.

Draco whispered hastily, "All right, all right, I'm listening. Just don't wake up the other paintings, please."

Pompously, the alchemist in the painting changed position and looked at him as piercingly as he could through the yellowed, cracked veneer. "You've come a long way, young man, since you first arrived in this Common Room, as small as the first year you've helped facing his past this holiday. The spoiled little brat I saw when you were first sorted into Slytherin has changed into a good man. The other Slytherins are doing you wrong by treating you the way they do."

Now Draco did sigh, giving a weary nod. "Thank you, old man. I appreciate it. Now, if you'll..."

But the man in the portrait leaned forward without listening. "The portraits know what you're trying to accomplish, young man. And you've almost succeeded. Don't throw it away now because of some self-doubt. You've changed more than you'll probably even realise." He paused before adding, "The Gryffindor understands this far better than you do. Now, go to bed and let me sleep."

Abruptly, he turned around and started to make exaggerated snorting sounds to indicate the conversation was over.

Draco was rooted to his spot. His cheeks had coloured deep red upon the portrait's subtle reminder that the nocturnal hours of practice in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom hadn't been as much of a secret as he and Granger had thought it to be. At least the paintings had probably been following his progress and ultimate failure. He didn't have time to dwell on that fact, though, as he remembered what else the painting had said. 'You're a good man...'

Draco knew that Granger - for some reason - seemed to have faith him, but he attributed that feat to her proverbial Gryffindor optimism. But maybe, just maybe...he had been too harsh on himself. Biting his lip thoughtfully, he put on his dressing gown as a new resolve formed in his mind. He shouldn't be giving up just yet. After all, the new year had yet to arrive.

Draco put down the quill with which he had been scribbling on the application before him and looked up. Resting his chin in his hand, he watched as downy snowflakes whirled past the window and piled up in crescent shaped heaps in the window panes.

It would be Christmas soon, the most dejected time of year at Malfoy Manor. At least this year he wouldn't have to endure the grave silences at dinner, as he was invited to celebrate Christmas with the Greengrasses. Putting aside the assessed application, he reached for the following one from the small pile of unopened letters before him. They were all applications. No other letters.

Draco's expression darkened. It had been four weeks since he'd escorted Granger back to The Burrow. He had never been one to worry about other people very quickly, but the memory of Granger falling to the ground in the drawing room still pushed to the forefront of his thoughts. Ever since he'd Disapparated back to the manor, he'd been wondering how she was doing - if she was all right. He had cherished no illusions, however, on receiving any message from her, other than the inspection results. She didn't owe him any information on her wellbeing. After all, he was merely a former follower of the Dark Lord, which made him morally obliged to cater to her every whim. If she chose not to contact him, he simply had to accept and respect that decision. She stood in her right.

Nevertheless, Draco found himself awaiting the mail with more interest than before, all the while trying to ignore that other vivid memory of holding Granger in his arms as she let her head rest against his shoulder. He could still feel her soft breath against his skin. And in unguarded moments like these, his eyes would close and he would relive the feeling of her body pressed to his and her arms wrapped around him as if she would never let go again.

"Master Draco."

The squeaky voice harshly pulled him from his thoughts. Draco shot up straight and stared right into a pair of big steel grey eyes belonging to one of his house-elves. The small creature looked definitely agitated. "I'm sorry to disturb the Master, but Master said I was to bring him this letter as soon as..."

"This letter?" Draco interrupted the house-elf non-understandingly, and the elf nodded hesitatingly as he extended a bony hand holding a large brown envelope.

"It's from the Ministry..." he squeaked.

This New Year's Eve, Draco found himself back in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, staring at the wall opposite the blackboard. For a moment, he felt like an idiot, being here again where he'd already accepted defeat hours earlier. And because of what? The ramblings of an old painting? How on earth would he be able to succeed where he hadn't before? But then he clenched his teeth and, deciding not to be daunted by his previous failures, he slid into a stance. Determinedly, he spoke the incantation. A perfect glowing orb appeared from his wand. It was larger than all the others he'd conjured before, and he managed to keep it going for a minute before it disappeared in the darkness surrounding him.

Hours passed, quietly accounted for by the moon climbing higher in the sky as Draco continued on the path of enlarging the glowing orbs conjured by him. Imperturbably, the celestial body shone down on the Slytherin in his lonely mission as he grew more tired and more desperate with each new attempt to change the glowing orb into something more. He slowly started to realise it was a dead-end situation. Very soon now he would become too tired to continue.

His face contorted in a pained grimace, and he let out a frustrated growl as he raised his wand for what would probably be the last time he would manage to do so. At that moment, the moon started to reappear from behind a rare cloud and a single silver beam of light lit up the desk where Granger would normally be sitting, watching his progress. Up until that moment, Draco had tried not to look at the empty desk, focusing on the task ahead. But after hours of practicing, he was empty and exhausted. His eyes were drawn toward Granger's desk and he wished she was here with him, looking at him with that blissful expression in her caramel eyes whenever he'd done something right. Unbeknownst to Draco, his pained expression softened at the memory, while his lips automatically formed the words they'd uttered so many times before. "Expecto Patronum!"

Draco immediately realised his mistake. His distracted, weary thoughts he'd been nowhere near concentrating on his happy memory, but the attempt had already been wasted. He wanted to cry out in anger but then his eyes widened in shock. It took long moments for his exhausted mind to process that the entire classroom was bathed in a silver light much brighter than the glowing orb had produced before. Before his astonished eyes, the light began to condense and took on the form of an animal that turned to look at him. Draco sharply drew in his breath. It was a whole, flawless animal form. A corporeal Patronus.

An ecstatic cry of joy escaped him. He'd done it! He'd finally done it! But then his excitement waned as his eyes came to rest upon empty desk on the front row. It reminded him of the shift in memories which had caused the spell to so unexpectedly succeed. His features darkened. She was his happy memory. Not that single time his parents had taken him to the beach when he was a toddler, but Hermione Granger and the gentle way she'd been looking at him during Patronus lessons. A fierce resentment washed over him at the possible implication, even though a small part of him whispered that this wasn't the first time his thoughts had wandered off to the Gryffindor girl.

He was distracted by the Patronus playfully jumping around him. It was a small animal and despite his distress he began to follow it, to find out its species. The animal was lithe, smaller than Granger's but almost as agile. Before it disappeared, it curled itself around his neck affectionately. And as the moon disappeared behind the clouds, Draco threw his head back and laughed. His Patronus was a ferret.

Of course Lucius Malfoy immediately recognised the seal of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on the parchment in Draco's hands when his son entered the drawing room where his parents were enjoying their afternoon tea. His eyes widened slightly as Draco closed the door at his leisure and lazily lowered himself on the sofa.

"And...?" Lucius' impatient voice reached a higher pitch as Draco's silence became too much for him.

Draco smirked when he looked up. "As expected," he stated with slight arrogance, "the inspection outcome is laudatory."

A triumphant smile spread across Lucius' aristocratic features and he rose to pour Draco a glass of Firewhisky. In passing, he patted his son on the back, failing to see the hurt his son hid expertly behind a stony expression. "Well done, Draco. Impeccable as usual, befitting a Malfoy."

Draco tilted his head and smiled smugly as he accepted the crystal glass, taking a large sip. "Thank you, Father. And for what it's worth, the report also mentions that Malfoy Manor, along with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, may serve as an example for the wizarding community."

Lucius' mouth curled in a self-satisfied smile before he took a sip from his own Firewhisky. "I'm proud of you, my son."

Draco grimaced and gulped down the remainder of his drink, putting down the glass with more force than necessary. Lucius didn't notice, but his mother's sharp eyes didn't miss his slight slip-up. Avoiding her searching gaze, Draco quickly crossed the room and excused himself. He had to get out of the house now. Up in the air was his only chance of coming to terms with the grave disappointment that the letter had contained nothing more than the inspection outcome.

Thankfully, his mother didn't detain him.

A/N: I would like to thank my beta Crimson Eyed Sakura for her wonderful work and thank you very much for reading!