Hermione blinked. Once, twice and thrice… but the image in front of her remained the same.
An elderly elf stepped forward and bowed, his head bent low. "Er, hu-ello, Miss," he cleared his voice. "My name is Squidge, and that there," he turned and pointed to an elf behind him, "is my younger sister Deedee, my cousin Mimi, my brothers, Nix and Micks, then there's also Viv and Liv, Midge, the twins, Patty and Katy and," his finger swam in the air searching the bed till it landed on the smallest of the eleven elves, "and Tim."
"Hello," said Hermione weakly, her eyes meeting theirs one by one, "It's lovely to meet you all, but… what are you doing here, in my bed?"
"Master Malfoy said we were to deliver these flowers to Miss."
She looked about; the smell of flora rich and filling the room. The beauty and grandeur of the bouquets overwhelmed her for a moment before she returned her attention to the elves in front of her.
"Did Draco — I mean Master Malfoy — did he say anything else?"
Tim hopped off the bed and held out a dark emerald tie to her. "We were all given these," he said rather sadly.
Hermione took the tie in disbelief. "He freed you all."
"Now what do we do?" asked Midge, wringing her little hands, or maybe it was Liv.
"Where do we live?" said another.
Her mouth fell open as the reality of the situation dawned on her. She didn't have eleven elves in her room, she had eleven homeless elves.
"Oh my word, alright, okay, let me think…" Pacing up and down the tiny length of her room on the fourth lap, she suddenly exclaimed "I know! There are a some empty beds in the dormitories, I could — " she shook her head just as suddenly, "Bad idea, I can't randomly put eleven elves up in the house dormitories," she muttered.
"Miss looks unwell," said Squidge, his face drawn with worry. "Squidge can serve miss some tea."
"No," snapped Hermione, "I mean, no thank you. Squidge, you're a free elf now, you don't have to serve anybody, including me. That goes for all of you."
"Miss doesn't want us," whined another elf. "Master doesn't want us neithers!"
The other elves began to whimper, their unison cries turning into awful wails.
"No! That's not it at all. You're all free elves now. You can go anywhere, do anything. Draco — I mean the Malfoys — they no longer have any control over you. You can choose your own path."
"Path? What path?" asked Tim timidly. "Miss wants us to go somewhere?"
Hermione's eyebrows creased in confusion. "No—"
"Miss doesn't want us."
"Miss means to kick us out."
"To kick us out of house and home!"
The crying and whining and wailing recommenced. Hermione covered her face with both hands, pulling at her eyelids. Merlin, no wonder Malfoy was happy to free them. "Stop crying," she implored in vain because her pleas went unheard among all the sobbing. "Okay!" she shouted, getting an idea. "I am your new master — mistress." The cries immediately ceased. There were still a few that sniffled, but they were all looking at her now with wide eager eyes. "And for my first request, I would like you all to follow me. I will show you your new sleeping quarters."
Turning around she walked out the door, looking back only once to ensure they were following her. It was too late in the night to figure this mess out, so for now she'd claim ownership of them and put them to bed. Everything would be cleared up in the morning. Thankfully it was late and as far as she could tell, everyone had already gone to sleep. The pitter-patter of little feet echoed along the corridors as she walked toward the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. A wave of nausea rolled over her as she thought of the last time she'd been in the Room of Requirement; when she had gone into the Room of Hidden Things, and Vincent Crabbe had been killed by his own cursed Fiendfyre.
She must have stood in front of the doors for some time because Squidge cleared his voice. "Miss is looking unwell again."
Shaking herself from her stupor she walked past it three times concentrating on the exact room she needed. A door slowly began to appear, chiselled in the stone wall. The elves behind her did not look very impressed. She supposed they must have seen and been used to such magic, but magic, this castle… it never got old. She was always in awe of it all.
Opening the door, she stepped in and asked them to enter. In turn, they poked their heads into the doorway, then their ears, and slowly, tentatively walked inside, their eyes wide with wonder.
"Patty's bed has sheets."
"And Nix has pillows."
"With pillowcases," added Micks.
"You all have pillows," said Hermione softly, giving them a sad smile. It broke her heart to think of how a thing as simple as a properly made bed made them happy. Her anger simmered to the surface as she wondered what their sleeping quarters were like at Malfoy Manor. The poor creatures were probably all sent to sleep in a dank and dusty dungeon. She noticed once again that the elves were staring at her as if waiting for some instruction.
"You can sleep here. This is your room now and these are your beds. It's very late so I suggest you all get some rest… I'll return in the morning for breakfast."
"What will Miss like for breakfast?" asked the elf Hermione believed was Deedee.
"Oh, don't worry about breakfast," she replied offhandedly, "just go to sleep." And with that she left, running back to her room, the one filled with flowers, wondering what on earth she was going to do with all those elves.
Hermione had been so intent on freeing elves that she seldom gave thought to what they would do once they were given their freedom. Guiltily, she realised she had been careless. She needed to come up with some sort of rehoming program, or a reintegration program. With a huff of frustration, she fell onto her bed, a headache coming on… and it was all Draco Malfoy's fault. Even when he was doing something right, he was doing it all wrong.
As she rubbed her temples, something delicious occurred to her. With a small smile playing on her lips, she changed into her nightclothes and slipped under the covers. As she turned, as she always did onto her side to sleep, her eyes caught hold of the flowers which had been placed on her bedside table. In the bright moonlight, she realised there was a small envelope nestled among the petals.
Slipping her wand out from underneath her pillow, she whispered, "Lumos." A little light emanated from the tip. She slowly sat up and reached out for the envelope. Her name was written in beautiful calligraphy at the front, and at the back, was a wax seal of the Malfoy family crest.
Her nostrils flared at the extravagance of it all. She considered burning the letter without reading it, but curiosity got the better of her.
She opened it and unfolded the letter.
It was handwritten and all it said was, Beautiful flowers, for the most beautiful girl.
The same wave of nausea swam over her. She crushed the letter, till it was a ball in her hand and tossed it to the floor. Then she lay her head on her pillow, willing the softness of her bed to put her to sleep… yet as she fell into that deep precipice, she kept re-reading the words, the most beautiful girl.
Hermione woke up just a few hours later before the sun could even rise and headed to the showers. Whilst getting ready she had decided on a course of action. She sent Malfoy a Patronus demanding that he meet her early in the dining hall before anyone else could arrive for breakfast. Then she went to the Room of Requirement to ask the elves what they wanted to eat. To her surprise the room was empty, the beds made, a small article of clothing laid neatly on the end of the bed; the clothing Malfoy had given each elf she presumed.
"Squidge?" she said out loud.
She jumped as the house-elf apparated right in front of her. "Miss called."
"I was wondering where you all were."
"We're in the kitchen preparing Miss her breakfast."
"In the kitchen!" cried Hermione. "No, Squidge, please, this is my request to you and the others. Prepare breakfast for yourselves and eat to your heart's content."
His eyes grew wide. "Eat… anything?"
"Anything you like."
"Miss is sure?" said Squidge in a tone of disbelief.
"Yes, I'm sure. And after breakfast I want you all to… go somewhere you like and have a lovely day. Go on then. I have classes but after class, I'll call for one of you."
She left Squidge with his mouth agape and ran down to breakfast.
After deciding that it would be better to sit at the far end of the Slytherin table, rather than at the Gryffindor table, Hermione installed herself and unfolded the morning's paper. She almost startled at the moving image staring out at her. Another Death Eater put behind bars. Ronald was standing next to a girl, no, not a girl, a woman, a very attractive, older woman. Auror Kate Lange, she read, skimming the article. Before she could give it a proper read, the sound of footsteps distracted her. Malfoy appeared looking utterly happy with himself… naturally.
She placed the paper down beside her, glaring at him all the way till he sat down next to her.
"I take it from your frantic Patronus that you got my gift," he said as a way of greeting.
"All eleven of your elves are currently in the Hogwarts kitchen—"
"My elves? Oh no, I freed them," he grinned smugly. "I have no elves."
"They have nowhere to go!"
"And whose fault is that?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "You bastard."
A ghost of a smile swept across his lips before he licked them. She tore her eyes away from him, turning to look back down at the half-eaten breakfast on her plate. The Daily Prophet was still in front of her, splayed open on the page of Ron. His smile on a loop.
"What's Weasley doing in the papers?" sneered Malfoy as a plate of food appeared in front of him. Hermione merely shrugged in response. "Who's the bird?"
"Kate something."
She could feel his silver eyes slide to her. "I see."
"So about your elves," she said quickly, "they've worked for your family for decades I imagine."
He placed his chin in his hand, a bored expression on his face. "Yes."
"Then you need to give them a pension."
Draco cocked an eyebrow. "They're not of retirement age."
"Then call it severance pay, call it whatever you want, but they need help. They need a place to live, somewhere to call home, and if you think—"
"Fine. How much?"
Hermione glanced up. He was wearing the same bored expression on his face, his fork picking at the yolk of his egg. She pressed her luck.
"10,000 galleons."
He grunted in approval.
"Each," she added.
"Fine."
She looked back down at her plate, her mind spinning a little. Picking up a slice of toast she bit into it. "And I'll need help with other expenses. Like supplies to stitch them proper clothes…"
She watched as Draco broke his yolk and it spilled out onto his plate. "Alright," he murmured disinterestedly.
Gritting her teeth, she added, almost as an afterthought, "And I'll need money for school supplies. Tim is fairly young, perhaps he'd like to receive an education… here at Hogwarts."
Draco stopped fiddling with his fork and placed it down gracefully on the side. He turned to face her fully, his grey eyes flashing dangerously.
"Al-right," he clipped, enunciating the syllables.
Her jaw clenched. "And I'll need rubies, and emeralds and sapphires for Liv and Micks will need a broom."
Tilting his head to one side, he gave her a crushing smile. "And anything else, Hermione?"
She practically growled. "You're impossible."
"Just improbable."
Just as Hermione was about to tear into Draco about how obnoxious, spoilt and privileged he was, the first trickle of students walked in. The three Ravenclaws practically stopped dead in their tracks as they spotted the Gryffindor and Slytherin sitting next to each other.
A blush suffused her cheeks as if she'd been caught doing something terrible. Stealing a glance at Draco, she realised the mischievous smile he'd been wearing had all but vanished. He looked bored again as if the two of them seated next to each other was an everyday occurrence. Without a word, he went back to eating his breakfast.
Then the rest of the students piled in through the double doors. Hermione tried to feign indifference, to replicate the pretence Draco was displaying so splendidly, she pretended that the murmurs and whispers weren't about her, that no one was staring at them, when in fact, everyone was; quite openly and blatantly. She dared not look over toward the Gryffindor table.
"Well, well," Hermione practically jumped as Blaise plopped down on the other side of her, Theo directly opposite.
"Draco," said Theo, a sly smile on his lips. "Hermione."
Malfoy merely gave them a nod of acknowledgement.
"Good morning," said Hermione dumbly, her face turning red.
"This is a new development. What's going on over here, or would you prefer we all just sit here and pretend that this is perfectly normal."
Draco took a sip of water. "Hermione is tutoring me."
"For Muggle studies," she rushed in.
Blaise cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"And how is our dear Draco doing?" teased Theo.
She took a sip of water, clearing her throat. "Better than I expected."
"That's Draco," murmured Blaise. "He's full of surprises."
"Actually," said Draco, wiping the sides of his mouth delicately with his napkin. "We better be going if we want to get that book from the library before class starts."
"Well that's a pity," clucked Theo. "I bid you both adieu."
Blaise waved his fork in salute as Hermione stood up, grabbing her bag.
Hermione felt immense relief at being able to leave the dining hall and to get away from prying eyes, but her relief lasted all of ten seconds, because as they were walking out, Draco's long fingers entwined with hers and the room became so perfectly still, that you could hear a pin drop.
He held her hand all the way to the library, only releasing it once they'd disappeared down one of the aisles.
Draco took the opportunity to scowl at her. "You have a death grip. And you're terrible at acting. You promised me a performance worthy of an Oscar. Isn't that meant to be some prestigious Muggle award?"
"You caught me off guard," she defended. "I wasn't… prepared."
"You need preparation for a little hand-holding?"
She glared at him. "When it's your hand, yes."
His fingers reached out for hers, caressing them. She snatched her hand away as if he'd burned her. "No one is here!"
He grabbed her wrist, ignoring her. "Open your palm. I'm going to read it."
"What? That's ridiculous!"
"Just do it," he groaned in irritation.
She rolled her eyes, unclenched her fist and looked the other way.
"Interesting," he drawled.
"What?" she demanded. He was looking at her palm with quiet focus.
"This," he said tracing a thin line beginning in the crevice of her index and middle finger. "That's your heart line." Then he began tracing other lines, explaining each to her, how they sometimes intersect, and how they sometimes don't and what that might mean. He started telling her about the origins of palm reading in divinations and the lost art of it. He spoke of the brilliant teachers who had taught Divinations at Hogwarts before Sybil Trelawney and how he had come to respect a subject he had formerly believed was utter hogwash. He spoke till he had run out of things to tell her and only when he stopped speaking did she notice that he had been holding her hand all the while.
"See," he whispered rubbing his thumb gently against her palm. "You just need to relax."
Hermione brushed his hand off, wishing never to have any part of him touch her again. "I'm going to class," she said trying to get away from him as soon as possible. She marched straight to the nearest bathroom, dropped her bag to the floor, rolled up her sleeves and began washing her hands.
He'd touched them both.
She used soap; lathered and washed. She patted them dry on a towelette and left the bathroom. Hermione went the rest of the day still feeling the ghost of his fingertips brushing the skin of her palm. But she was getting much better at pretending.