A/N:

AU Note - for the purposes of historic authenticity, I am applying some of the prejudices and sexism inherent to Victorian times onto the magical realm, so witches and muggleborns are generally considered "weaker" than wizards, and their powers deemed unsuitable to certain types of magic. But never fear, our heroine will be breaking down and disproving a lot of these prejudices, once she finally finds her feet!

Now, how will that cad, Lord Malfoy, account for his ungentlemanly attack on our beleaguered little governess? And will she find it in her heart to forgive him and stay? Read on to find out! :D

xox artful

...

Lord Malfoy made a slight bow at my words, then began to pace about the room. He seemed grave and thoughtful, and I sensed that he was a man not used to explaining himself or apologising for his actions, and none-too-pleased to find himself obliged to do so—especially, I imagined, to a base-born inferior like myself.

But I already determined that nothing less would induce me to stay. I might be an impecunious, orphan muggle-born, but I was also a respectable, freeborn witch. I would not consent to being tyrannised by any man, imperious Lord or otherwise.

I waited silently, trying to appear composed, but in actuality still much perturbed, affrighted, and rather close to tears.

By and bye, the noble-wizard stopped pacing to stand near one of the large windows, gazing out upon its view. Thus turned away from me, he commenced to speak.

"Miss Granger," said he, "You admitted before to having heard some 'idle gossip' pertaining to myself and family. ...Perhaps, amongst the many reports in circulation about us, you have heard that there have been several attempts of violence against members of this household?"

"Yes," I acknowledged, remembering Porter Weasley's words upon the subject. "Though I heard it only this morning."

"Those reports, at least, are true. Within the last three months there have been numerous attacks, by persons unknown and motives as-yet undiscovered. So far, they have never breached the enchantments protecting the gated grounds, and I certainly intend that they never shall."

Despite my recent terror and outrage at his behaviour, I felt a stir of sympathy for him. To have oneself and one's family threatened with violence, even murder! What could be more distressing?

The man turned to me now, fixing his silver eyes upon my face. "Do you see where I am leading, Miss Granger?"

"I am...not sure that I do," I replied, with some confusion. "Surely, you didn't think I could be somehow involved in such criminal activity? For what reason?—to what end?"

"I knew not for what reason, or to what end. But, yes. In short, I did suspect your involvement."

I was so amazed by this idea, that I actually laughed. "But I—I—I am only a muggle-born!" I stammered. "I know not a single curse or jinx!"

A smile hovered on Lord Malfoy's mouth at this admission. "A short-coming that ought to be rectified, if you are to stay," he murmured.

I found myself trembling under the ongoing scrutiny of his gaze, and at his soft voice, which, I felt, he deliberately wielded to gain my compliance. "I still do not understand how you came to suspect me," I said, mustering as cool a tone as I could manage, letting him know that I was yet to be convinced to stay.

The Lord pursed his lips. "Allow me to elaborate," he said, after a moment of decision. "This very morning, whilst travelling on my estate, I received an urgent owl from my sister-in-law, with whom my daughter Clarastella has been staying until a new governess could be arranged for her care."

The mention of my little charge caught me off-guard, and my interest in the speaker's story was immediately secured.

"The report," he continued, "was of a most disturbing nature; namely, that a newly-arrived servant had been caught in an attempt to poison them. She urged me to make immediate inquiries into my own domestic staff, with particular regards to new and unfamiliar persons. ...Immediately, I thought of the young lady I had seen being carried toward my house by my Porter, who I had presumed to be my daughter's new governess."

A blush arose to stain my cheeks. ...So, the high and mighty Lord had noticed and remembered the obscure little personage he passed in his thundering coach...

"I returned home immediately and spoke briefly to my house-keeper, ascertaining that the young lady appeared respectable and honest, but also had rather more flair for complex magic than had at first been suspected." His gaze swept over me, then levelled again to my face. "This alarmed me, Miss Granger," he said bluntly. "Knowing, as we all do, that muggle-borns are not naturally adept at magic, I wondered if I had allowed a dangerous impostor to infiltrate my home."

My flush deepened at this allusion to my innate inferiority.

"My suspicions were further roused by our interview. You looked too innocent, too much the timid ingénue, your story was altogether too piteous; calculated, it seemed to me, to gain sympathy and trust. Furthermore, there was a palpable magical potency I immediately sensed in you, not consistent with your youthful appearance, nor with a muggleborn's naturally subservient powers."

I almost started with shock. I had a 'palpable magical potency'?

"I was soon convinced you were not what or whom you purported to be, and so..." He splayed his hands in a gesture that meant, 'you see, it couldn't be helped.' "...I decided to ascertain the truth myself."

"You could have used less intrusive means to ascertain the truth," I said quite sharply, surprising myself.

He shrugged dismissively. "I deemed it the most expedient method under the prevailing circumstances." He smiled again, but it was no amiable expression, and looked a little brutal. "You should be thankful I did not choose a more...strenuous mode of questioning," he added quietly. A shiver spooled over me, as I was suddenly reminded that this was a powerful wizard with a reputed penchant for dark, forbidden magic.

But I drew myself up, refusing to be daunted. "Nevertheless," I said, "it was not..." I faltered at the gleam in his eyes. I had been nearly about to say 'gentlemanly' but I stopped short, thinking that it was not wise to insult a man so far above my station. "...kindly," I muttered instead.

"I am not known for my kindliness," the noble-wizard replied wryly. "It is one of my great failings, I suppose."

I felt vexed by his sardonic levity. Something of it must have manifested on my face, for he appeared to relent, adding, "Of course, with the benefit of hindsight, I regret taking such...drastic measures. It was precipitate of me, and distressing for you." He paused, as if waiting for me to acknowledge his implied apology; however, something stubborn within me would not settle for such, and I was silent.

Irritation flickered in his eyes, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. But grudgingly, and with a haughty slant of his finely-arched brow, he said, "It was wrong of me, and I am sorry." His eyes narrowed, as much to say, 'Will that satisfy you, young chit?'

The flush on my cheeks diffused more generally to the rest of my face, and I inclined my head in acceptance. A great tide of relief washed over me, and a heaviness lifted from my oppressed spirit. Tears again stood in my eyes, but they sprang from a different source; a well of gladness deep in my breast. He had apologised. I would stay.

"Now," he murmured in a gentler tone, "will you forgive my actions, and agree to remain with us?—At least until you have met my daughter Clarastella. I believe she will like you very much."

He could not have hit upon a surer way to secure my compliance. The notion of anyone liking me, let alone 'very much', was akin to offering me a chamber-full of bright treasure. It occurred to me that he must know this, and I felt a pang of wariness at his subtlety. However, the temptation proved impossible to resist.

"Very well, My Lord," I said, "I accept your apology. I shall stay. But—" I added hurriedly, almost terrified by my own audacity, "only with the understanding that I—I feel safe—a-and I am treated with respect."

I gulped, expecting to see the aristocratic brow to furrow and those eyes to darken with displeasure—but to my relieved surprise, Lord Malfoy's countenance overspread with undisguised amusement, his mouth curling at the corners and his silver irises agleam. I suppose he found the notion of a muggle-born naming conditions and demanding respect from her superiors, rather novel and entertaining.

"Most assuredly, Miss Granger," he replied in such a grave tone that he certainly mocked me. "I undertake personally to guarantee your safety, while you remain under my roof. And you may depend that you will be treated with the dignity you deserve." He did not elaborate on what he believed those deserts to be. But I sensed he would brook no more arguments from me, and indeed, I did not wish to make any.

"Thank you, My Lord," I said sincerely, making a formal curtsey. Sincerity was the only real defence I could have against derision, for it engaged his honour in his promise, however lightly he made it.

Lord Malfoy gazed at me a few moments longer, his expression now quite inscrutable and enigmatic. Then, with another shrug, he moved over to his desk, picking up my wand and holding it out for me to take.

I moved forward to receive it, and I was a little dismayed that my fingers still noticeably trembled as I took it from his large hand. I noticed his demeanour was far more relaxed, now that he had done with his apology and established himself back in his rightful, lofty position as Lord and Master.

I tucked the little baton into my dress pocket and waited to be dismissed.

"And so," the wizard murmured, "you really are 'only the governess' after all...quite as innocent and inexperienced as your appearance outwardly suggests."

Once more my cheeks flamed, for I felt he was deriding me again. "I am sorry to disappoint you, My Lord," I said in a bristly tone.

He chuckled softly. "Far from it, Miss Granger," he replied. "Indeed, I find myself pleasantly surprised. It is seldom that one meets with a person who is all that they seem to be. It is...quite refreshing."

I found myself more dismayed than flattered by his words. "Well," I blurted out, "perhaps I may surprise you again, one day." Then I winced at myself, wondering what on earth had got into me.

But the handsome noble-wizard only looked all-the-more amused. "I rather believe that you may," he replied, with a flourishing bow. Straightening, he took up his own wand and opened the door with a concise swish, effectively dismissing me from his presence.

With a second curtsey—this one hastily made and therefore clumsily executed—I turned and fled, unable to bear one moment more of Lord Malfoy's taunting smile and gleaming eyes.

...

Arriving back to the refuge of my boudoir, I collapsed on my bed and burst into a storm of tears.

I believe it was a kind of fit of nervous hysteria, a bodily release to relieve the over-wroughtness of my mind. It did not last long, for I was not anguished or in despair. Indeed, I think I was actually happier than perhaps I ought to be.

My encounter with Lord Malfoy, though deeply unsettling and even terrifying, had ended more favourably than I could have dared hope. He—one of the most rich and powerful Lords of the Magic Realm—had apologised to me. An obscure little muggleborn, of no family and less consequence!

For a long time I lay on my bed, replaying over and over in my head the minutiae of our strange interview. I wondered why His Lordship was so intent upon keeping me in his employ, having ascertained that I was—as he had put it—'all that I seemed to be'.

...Perhaps, like Mrs Marsh, it was my very innocuousness which made me a favourable choice. Whatever it was that he had gleaned from his intrusive assault upon my mind and thoughts, he had evidently discovered something that made my services worthwhile retaining, even at the expense of having to make me an apology for his methods.

I had read about the "Legilimency" spell, in one of the few novels my Aunt deemed morally acceptable for an impressionable young witch. In that example, the father of the hapless young heroine had used it to discover and foil the plans of his daughter's would-be seducer, preventing her from being carried off to a life of infamy and exile. From what I recalled, the spell was deemed only suitable to be used by powerful wizards; Veritaserum being the more acceptable method of truth-seeking for witches.

Yet despite my outrage and mortification at Lord Malfoy's unwarranted attack, I could not help but feel rather thrilled to have been deemed worthy of his suspicion. The very fact that Mrs Marsh had alerted him to my 'flair for complex magic', that he had sensed in me a 'palpable magical potency'... it made my heart throb with a kind of fierce pride. ...I had always had within me a desire to taste the forbidden fruits of knowledge lying beyond my reach, during those long reclusive years of seamstressing and household drudgery... How often I had been scolded by my Aunt for asking too many questions, or mentioning a desire to learn spells deemed too difficult for muggleborns! Yet here was an experienced gentle-witch and a powerful noble-wizard, one complimenting me, and the other suspecting me, for my magical potential! I found myself smiling into my pillow.

I smiled again as I recalled His Lordship's assertion that his daughter, Clarastella, would 'like me very much.' ...Oh, but I did hope so!

I had always instinctively liked children, although I seldom had the chance to meet with them. The rare occasions when my Aunt received visitors with children in tow, had always been of great pleasure to me. I was far more comfortable sitting on the floor, quietly amusing youngsters with games and activities, than awkwardly sitting amongst condescending witches, performing the hollow niceties of polite conversation, wearing my inferiority like a sackcloth and ashes.

Furthermore, a little girl of five, no matter how spoiled of wilful (and there was a high possibility that she would be both, from what I had seen of her brother), would be yet too young to understand the concept of my impurity, or hold me at fault for the misfortune of my birth.

...I dwelt for some time on a pleasant kind of daydream where, through my kindness and firmness, I helped Clarastella to become a sweet, tractable child, advanced in her lessons and promising in her prospective abilities, and all the nobility agreed that I "had done wonders with her" ...and Lord Malfoy, without any hint of sardonic derision, applauded my efforts, acknowledging that I was the cleverest muggleborn-witch he had ever known...

Sighing, I drew myself up from the deep, plush bedding. Pride goeth before the fall, I reminded myself sternly. It was all very well to construct such fantasies, but it was just as plausible—indeed, far more so—that I would fail abysmally, and be turned back out into the world to find a new means to maintain my existence.

I stood up and moved over to the central window-pane, looking first down at the beautiful geometric patterns of the Rose Courtyard, then across to the windows opposite, through which I could see the maids passing along the Main Hall's first-floor balcony. Surmising that I was just as visible to them as they to me, I drew the curtains.

Then, for the first time, I took a good look at my surroundings.

It really was a very lovely boudoir, tastefully decorated to give a feeling of serenity rather than grandeur, but also well furnished with all the necessities of a witch's apartment.

As well as the mirrored dressing-table, there was a tall wardrobe, and a chest of drawers near the bed, upon which stood a washing basin and ewer. At the opposite end of the room there stood a round table with two chairs, where I supposed I would take my food. Next to the table was an elegant "House-witch Desk" furnished with compartments to store potion ingredients, a spinner filled with empty glass potion vials, and a set of silver paring knives. And between the table and desk stood a tall, empty bookcase.

There was a door in the back wall, which, upon investigation, lead through to a bathing room and water-closet. I was astonished and delighted by this discovery, having presumed I would have to call for a tub of heated water for ablutions, and share an outdoor privy-midden with the servants. I could scarcely fathom such luxury...a bathing room, all to oneself! It seemed almost incredible.

The remainder of the afternoon I spent unpacking my things: putting away the scattered items from my reticule into the dressing-table drawers, sorting my potions and essences into the House-witch Desk, and placing my pitifully small hoard of books alphabetically along the middle shelf of the bookcase. Then I turned my wand to preparing my new dresses with various ironing, steaming, starching and airing spells, before hanging them up in the wardrobe, and folding my underclothes into the chest of drawers beside.

I hardly noticed the time pass, until I was startled by a sharp rap at the door.

"A moment, please!" I cried, hurrying over to open it. "Hello—" I began, then stopped abruptly as I realised the corridor was quite empty. On the floor near the door was a tray, upon which was placed a large, silver-domed platter. I realised it was already six p.m. and my dinner was served.

I brought the tray in and placed it on the table, then went to my wash-basin to rinse my hands. The ewer proved to be charmed, for the water was warm and refilled as soon as it had been poured.

Returning to the table, I took my seat and lifted the lid. Immediately I was ambushed by a waft of delicious scents, and I beheld a more-than generous portion—enough for two, indeed—of beautifully-prepared comestibles, that looked like they had been apportioned from the family's own dinner.

Instead of the brown bread and plain stew or joint of meat I had been expecting, there were dainty sweetmeats and sauced cutlets, slices of game pie, and a colourful variety of buttered steamed vegetables, some of which were quite exotic and unfamiliar to my eyes. Besides this elegant fare, there was a small dish of sweet blancmange that even rivalled Mrs Marsh's sponge-cake for sugary insubstantiality, and a glass of wine mixed with spring-water, which was delightfully effervescent on my tongue.

When I had eaten my fill, I sat at table for a while, reminiscing on the many strange events of the day—the horrid episode with the Fetcher-men at Tredraconis Inn, the pleasant drive to Malfoy Manor with Porter Weasley, the confrontation with Master Draco and his paramour...and, of course, my terrifying and traumatic first encounter with my new employer, Lord Lucius Malfoy...

A murmur of low voices interrupted my musings, and I moved over to the window, opening the curtain a crack to peer down into the Rose Courtyard. The Manor's surrounding walls had created a gloomy well of shadows over the garden, but I could still make out two figures sitting upon the central Courting Bench, one of which possessed a head of cropped, bright-blond hair. Whether the other figure was the young lady from this afternoon, or the sister whom they both so heartlessly wronged, I could not tell.

A movement from the opposite window caught my eye. Although not yet dark, the Manor's lamps were now all lit, and I could clearly see three figures passing along the upper balcony of the Main Hall. Leading the way was Mrs Marsh, behind whom followed a footman, who carried in his arms a sleeping child—a little girl with long, golden curls falling over her face. I held my breath—I know not why, for they were not looking in my direction and could certainly not hear me—and watched them pass the row of arched windows.

In my quest to follow this trio with my eyes, I didn't immediately notice a fourth person, emerging from the great staircase. Only when he had already gained the landing and turned to look out, directly towards my window, did I recognise the tall, splendid figure of Lord Malfoy, dressed in the resplendence of evening attire. Too late, I realised I had let the curtain fall open wider than intended, and that His Lordship had seen me.

I could not clearly make out his expression, but I fancied he smiled. He made a slight, shallow bow of acknowledgement of my presence.

I ought to have coolly curtseyed or at least nodded in dignified response—something to show how unruffled I was by our earlier encounter—but instead, I hastily dropped the curtain and jumped back away from the window, my heartbeat thudding wildly in my breast.

I spent a good portion of the remaining evening dividing my time between chiding myself for my mortifying gaucheness, and wondering what on earth the following day's adventures would bring.