I was so entirely preoccupied that, once I gained my room, it was with sudden surprise that I beheld a stack of books sitting on the dining table. Immediately, I recalled Lord Malfoy's mention of furnishing me with a selection of reading material, "pertaining to the theories of magical self defence..."

A thrilling excitement flooded through me, and I hurried over to inspect the tomes.

I might have been gloating over a pirate's hoard of glinting Galleons, so precious and beautiful did those books seem to my eyes. I ran trembling fingers down the spines, reading the gold calligraphy of the titles embossed upon handsome leather of varying vivid hues.

"A Compendium of Common Curses & Their Counter-Actions" ... "An Encyclopædia of Duelling Terms" ... "Code Duello: The Art of Honourable Engagement" ... "Basic Hexes for the Busy & Vexed" ... "Jinxes for the Jinxed" ... "Self-Safeguarding Spellwork For Gentle-Witches" ...

Sinking upon the chair, I was soon totally immersed in reading the introductions, flicking through the pages, skimming the texts, gazing at the pictures and sequentially numbered 'Figures'... and heartily wishing there was a way to imbibe such a store of knowledge like a draught, in one great swallow.

There was a thrumming warmth within my body; my pulse raced and my blood coursed with feverish exhilaration. My fingers twitched and grew hot, as if (independently of my will) they wished to curl about my wand and begin to practice the illustrated movements, and it was all I could do to keep my lips sealed and tongue still, and not let them form into the shapes of so many strange, wonderful, new words.

Mere seconds seemed to have passed when the cuckoo-clock suddenly chimed six o'clock, startling me from the deep preoccupation into which I had fallen.

Clarastella! Chiding myself, I jumped to my feet and hurried to the door, nearly tripping upon the mahogany dinner tray left for me upon the threshold. Levitating the laden tray, I deposited it amongst the books crowding the surface of the small dining table, then, closing my door, I swiftly traversed the short distance to Clarastella's bedchamber.

I lightly tapped upon the door. "Miss Malfoy?" I said softly, fearing she might already be asleep. "It is Miss Granger. Are you still awake?"

"Yes," came the prompt reply. "Come in, please."

The lamps were already extinguished, but I lit the nearest one with a Lumos Lucerna. The soft light revealed my little charge in her cot, swathed in layers of quilted-satin bedding, by which her slight figure was almost entirely engulfed. Her elfin face was framed by a frilly lace night-cap, under which her golden curls were carefully contained. Her large lilac eyes seemed nearly silver in the low lucency, and, for the first time since meeting her, I believed I could see a real resemblance to her purported father.

"What a pretty room this is, Miss Malfoy!" I said, noticing the exquisite décor. Indeed, 'pretty' was quite an insufficient word to do it justice. I had thought my own boudoir good enough for a princess, but this one put it positively to shame, appointed with furniture of ivory and gold, and upholstered throughout with frothy volumes of white Chantilly lace. After a moment of looking about me, I felt a strange sense of vertigo, as if I were looking down from an unnatural height, until I realised that every item of furniture—the couches, dressers, wardrobes, chairs, even the lamps on the wall—had been scaled down to child's-size.

It was, I thought, rather like entering a beautiful little play-house.

"I'm sorry I am late," I murmured, coming to kneel beside Clarastella's cot. "I was reading and quite forgot the time."

"It doesn't matter," said she.

"But it does matter," I replied. "What one has promised, one must always perform."

"Oh, yes. But I knew you would come."

I smiled at her simple faith in me, so lately a complete stranger. "And are you quite settled and comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you."

"That is good. We have much to do tomorrow, and shall need our wits about us. We must both get plenty of sleep."

"Yes...except, sometimes I cannot sleep."

"Indeed? Is there something the matter?"

"Not the matter... Only, sometimes there are voices."

I know not why, but a cold, creeping feeling came over me, raising a prickle of goosebumps on my skin. "But that is only a dream, Miss Malfoy," I said.

The little girl's solemn eyes fixed on my own. "No," she said earnestly, "I'm as awake as—as I am now."

"Well, perhaps your nursemaid, Fleur, sometimes has a visitor." I thought it entirely possible that she, beautiful young woman as she was, would have regular 'company'.

"It isn't Fleur," Clarastella insisted. "Fleur's room is there—" (she pointed to a door at the far end of her room) "—but the voices come from the sea."

A second shiver spooled over me. "Well," I said lightly, "—Let me look outside."

I rose and went to the window near the end of Clarastella's bed, opening the curtains and peering out. The vista was the same as the one from the nursery, overlooking the great expanse of sea. All was still and serene, the sun just beginning its descent behind a thin veil of distant cloud.

But just when I was about to turn away, my attention was captured by a movement far below. A figure—it appeared to be a man, dressed all in black, wearing an old-fashioned tricorn hat—was descending the steep, rocky side of the tor leading down to the sea-shore. I wondered who he could be, and what business he had within the grounds of Malfoy Manor. However, I supposed he must have permission to be there, for the Manor's protective enchantments would surely keep out any unwelcome intruder.

"There is nothing there tonight, Miss Malfoy," I said, pulling the curtain back into place. "Most likely, it is only the wind that makes such sounds. I'm certain it is nothing to fret about. You know your papa is a great and powerful wizard, and he has made this house the safest place in the world for a little girl like you to sleep in."

As I spoke, I could not help thinking that I did not quite state the truth: for indeed it seemed the very fact of Lord Malfoy's being a 'great and powerful wizard' had earned him dangerous mortal enemies that he, perchance, would not otherwise have.

"Now," I continued, "you shall dwell no more on such fanciful things. I want you instead to think of where we shall walk tomorrow, and which of your favourite books you shall show me. Will you do that, Miss Malfoy?"

The little girl nodded, and I could tell by her expression that she was already giving the matter full consideration.

"Good girl," I murmured, patting her quilt and firmly tucking the sheets, in the comforting way I recalled my Aunt had done when I was a small child. "Now, I shall wish you a sound slumber and pleasant dreams."

I stood, and moved back to the door, taking out my wand in preparation of extinguishing the lamps. "Goodnight, Miss Malfoy," I said.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger," she replied. "I am glad you are come."

"Yes...and so am I," I said. And it was the truth.—For, whatever strange and disturbing incidents had occurred since my arrival, whatever the feelings they had occasioned in me: fear, excitement, discomfiture, awe, curiosity—at least I had begun to feel, and consequently, to feel alive, for the first time in my life. And perhaps the strongest feeling of all was the instinct to care for this little girl, for it seemed no-one else cared overmuch for her.

I extinguished the lamps with a wave of my wand, and softly closed the door.

...

Returning to my room, I discovered upon my dinner-tray a note from Mrs Marsh, requesting my presence in her room at eight-o'clock, if I was unengaged. I supposed she wished for an account of my first day. I had the best part of two hours to fill in, and I spent it picking at my dinner whilst avidly looking through my new books, though I kept a close eye on the time, determined not to be tardy for this appointment.

When at last the designated hour approached, I descended and made my way to the Servants Quarter; however, before I reached Mrs Marsh's office, I met her hastening along the service corridor.

"Ah, Miss Granger," said she, "I'm terribly sorry, but we shall have to postpone until tomorrow. I've just this moment had word that one of the maids has injured herself, and I'm going to her directly."

"Of course, ma'am, please don't let me keep you one moment!"

Nodding graciously, the woman swept past me and hurried away.

Just as Mrs Marsh disappeared around the corner it suddenly occurred to me that I might be of some assistance, for the Healing Arts were one of the few in which my Aunt had well-versed me.

Dashing after her, I saw the housekeeper passing through the great door in the back wall of the Main Hall, set between its carved oak panels of hunting scenes. I didn't like to call out, in case I should either waylay her progress, or call attention from some other quarter, so instead I followed her steps, hoping to catch up with her.

Alas, all too soon I had not only lost her trail and whereabouts, but obfuscated my own.

I found myself (much to my alarm) in an unfamiliar corridor with so many doors along it, I knew not which one I had come through, for it had closed behind me and looked identical to the rest.

My heart hammered in my throat as I imagined being discovered by someone, and accused of prying. What if I should run into His Lordship? Dreadful thought!

I decided to try one door which I thought might lead me back whence I came. But the moment I turned the handle and pressed open the door, I found that I was mistaken. The chamber was low-lit and gloomy, and when my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I realised it was a Billiards Room—and that it was not unoccupied.

At first I thought the figure bending over the table, cue in hand, to be Master Draco, for the first glance I had was of a tall, slim physique, and expensive, dandyish clothing. But, as the man straightened up, I realised he was darker and taller than the Malfoy heir—perhaps as tall as my master, though less robustly moulded. His features were high-bred and distinctive, though not classically handsome, with cool blue eyes and hair of a dark bistre brown which fell over his brow in the fashion usually called "engaging."

I placed him to be of a similar age to Master Draco and wondered if he were a friend or relation.

It was too late for me to retreat, since the gentle-wizard had noticed my appearance and turned to face me. He regarded me without apparent surprise, through low lids, a half-smile curving his lips. There was a raffish, lounging aspect to his posture which seemed indicative of a man who preferred languorous, rather than energetic, pursuits.

His expression was neither suavely enigmatic like Lord Malfoy's, nor insolently petulant like Master Draco's, but rather a mixture of facetiousness, indolence and conceit, as if he found the world vaguely amusing, but himself the most amusing of all.

"I-I'm sorry to intrude," I stammered, "but I have lost my way."

"Oh, but have you, indeed?" said he, in a drawling tone to match his blasé smile. "How immeasurably unfortunate for you. Shocking to a degree."

I hardly knew what to make of this speech. The words seemed satirical, but were delivered quite politely, though lazily, and I found myself blushing with confusion. "Er...would you be so kind as to direct me toward the Main Hall?"

"It would be a prodigious honour; I live for such distinction." He passed a hand through his dark hair in a careless manner. "If you'll only be so ineffably kind as to enlighten me as to whom I speak?"

"I am Miss Malfoy's new governess," I said, withholding my name, I knew not why.

His eyebrows raised a fraction. "Miss Malfoy's new governess!" he repeated. "A learn-ed lady! A veritable Minervan goddess in our midst! How amazingly extraordinary. Supremely admirable." Then, as if demonstrating that it was anything but, he turned back to the table and resumed his play.

I watched him for a full minute before hazarding a comment, for I could not make out if he was being outrageously impudent, or if he were a little "eccentric of mind", or merely wished to finish his game before he assisted me. Finally stirring, I murmured, "Sir? If you are at present too busy—"

"Busy?" The wizard, still bent over his cue, turned his head to fix his eyes on me. "Perish the thought, madam! Perish it, and set it ablaze, and offer it in ritual sacrifice to Hades. On the contrary, I am, as you see, all at my leisure."

I began to grow impatient of his ostentatious (though somewhat amusing) manner of speaking. "Then, perhaps, Sir," said I, "if you would only show me the way to the Main Hall—"

"Upon my honour, nothing would exalt me more, Miss Governess," he replied. "It would be the source of the most superlative gratification. Superlative in the extreme."

But despite his words, he once again turned back to his game and levelled his cue. This time I doubted not that he was, indeed, making a mockery of me. I longed to say something cutting; I imagined Miss Weasley putting the man in his place with a sarcastic witticism; however, I could think of nothing, and ajudged it better to simply leave, than to rise to the insult.

However, as I turned to exit, the young man suddenly spoke up again.

"You are not leaving so soon, Miss Governess? Fickle lady! I thought we had an understanding."

"No," I said coldly. "An understanding can only arise where both parties speak intelligibly and sincerely. You, Sir, do neither."

"Oh, horrid cruel!" exclaimed the wizard, with a provoking simper. "She wounds me! I am killed! A little governess with the aim of Artemis!"

"First I am to be Minerva, now I am to be Artemis," I said, now really angry at being made, yet again, a figure of ridicule. I had tasted quite enough of that for one day. "And you, I suppose, think yourself Momus."*

This caused the young man to burst into an immoderate fit of laughter. "Immeasurably well said," he declared, when at last he had recovered himself. "I would take my hat off to you, if I happened to have it on."

He now cast aside his cue and advanced toward me; evidently, I had at last secured his attention. With a smile that seemed both charming and calculating, and put me rather in mind of a fox, he executed a courteous bow. "Lord Nott at your service, Miss—oh dear me, what is your name?"

Somewhat unwillingly, I murmured, "Miss Granger," and curtseyed in return, though I was still rather divided between resentment and amusement at his outlandish behaviour. However, I had not time to decide the matter either for or against him, for a new voice rang suddenly out from along the corridor.

"Who the devil are you talking to, Nott, you incurable drate-poke?"*

The voice was soon followed by the person to whom it belonged—to wit: one Master Draco Malfoy.

Upon setting eyes on the two of us, he sneered in a most unpleasant way. "Oh, you've caught the little dormouse, I see! Pray, did you use tallow for bait, or did you scatter crumbs?"

My colour deepened. "Lord Nott was just about to show me the way to the Main Hall," I said with as much grave dignity as I could summon. "I'm afraid I lost my way. The house is so very big."

"Irrefragably true!" Lord Nott said in his peculiar drawl. "It is an abominably large house. Monstrous to a degree." Then, presenting his arm for me to take, he said, "Will you allow me, Miss Granger?"

"Nott!" barked Master Malfoy sharply, startling me.

"Oh, come on, old boy," said the young Lord reproachfully, though he dropped his arm and took a backward step. "My chivalric soul fairly aches to assist a young lady, languishing in distress."

"I'm certain it does," Master Draco replied, with another nasty smile. "Though, frankly," (looking me disdainfully over) "I cannot see the appeal."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Malfoy. You have not a poet's subtle sensibility. You admire the gaudy hot-house bloom; I prefer the budding wildflower."

"Indeed, I've seen you pluck your fair share of them, My Lord Poet," Master Draco returned dryly. "And if it were up to me, you could play the cat with your little mouse, to your heart's content. ...But you know that my father has forbidden it."

"Of course," replied Lord Nott with a taunting half-bow, "we must unfailingly conform to whatever daddy decrees."

This prompted a long stream of invectives from the blond wizard, the most of which (thankfully) I could not understand. While he swore and stormed, his friend only smirked in his idle fashion, and even yawned on occasion.

Meanwhile, I stood silently in my place, heartily wishing I had never come after Mrs Marsh. How I longed to be in my room, reading my new books! Instead of wasting my time with these foppish coxcombs, being subjected to the kind of language not fit for female ears!

"Have you quite done?" asked the young Lord, when Master Draco's wrath had at last run its course.

"Yes, you poxy popinjay," snarled he, "I have done for now."

At this interval, I spoke up. "Sirs," I said, in a tone not unmixed with sarcasm, "I shall infringe upon your gallantry no longer. I believe I remember the way back, after all." So saying, I dropped a brief curtsey and escaped through the door.

However, much to my surprise and chagrin, Master Draco pursued my steps, and had soon gained the lead of me; suddenly rounding on me, he stopped me in my tracks.

"Sir—!" I exclaimed, rather alarmed at his glowering expression and aggressive stance.

"One word, Miss Granger," said he, in a tone that implied it would be unwise to refuse to hear him.

"Yes, sir?"

He paused momentarily, as if deciding how to proceed. Then, with another sneer such as I was becoming quite familiar with, he said, "I would be vast obliged, madam, if you would keep out of the way of my friends when they happen to visit."

"Nothing would gratify me more, sir," I replied caustically.

He took a closer step, as if to intimidate me. Refusing to be thus daunted, I stayed my ground, and Master Draco's eyes narrowed, his mouth down-turning at the corners. "I know not why my father thinks you merit the distinction of his protection. But I will not be held accountable for difficulties arising from your own deliberate actions. Do you hear?"

"I hardly think getting lost can be called a deliberate action, sir."

He gave a sharp, scoffing bark of a laugh. "Ha! Aye, madam, I know enough about penniless young ladies who are always getting lost. Invariably, they lose themselves whenever a gentlemen of fortune happens to be nearby."

For several moments I could not speak, so enraged was I by so vulgar, so insulting, so insinuating, an aspersion. Master Draco smirked complacently, as if deriving much satisfaction from my outrage.

Finally managing to speak (though my voice shook with ire), I said, "Be so good, sir, to direct me to the Main Hall."

Taking out his wand, the blond wizard swiped it, causing one of the doors near the end of the corridor to fly open. "Follow it to the end, Miss Granger." So saying, he turned on his heel and stalked away, without so much as a civil nod of departure. "Take care not to lose yourself again," he said over his shoulder, "or I'll not be answerable for the consequences."

Angry and atremble, I found my way back to familiar ground, and returned to my room with far less composure than I had left it.

...

Mrs Marsh did not summon me back that evening. Instead, I received a polite note deferring our meeting until Friday. It concluded, "...If you should require anything to contribute to your comforts meanwhile, do not hesitate to apply to me. With kind regards, Mrs Marsh."

I was not sorry to have the meeting thus postponed, for after my unsettling encounter with Master Draco and Lord Nott, I was not so composed as I would wish to appear before the sharp-eyed housekeeper, whom, I doubted not, must notice my vexation. For I was vexed. How dare that—that insolent cad cast his despicable aspersions upon me? As much as declaring to my face that I deliberately set my cap at his foppish friend!

And as to that friend—what meant he by his strange and impudent manner? At one moment ignoring my request for assistance, at the next all obsequious attention? I did not trust his disarming smile or amusing style of speech, for indeed, when I looked back upon it, I thought that "his rattle warned me of the snake". I would certainly take care to avoid his company in future, if he proved a frequent guest in this house.

Eventually, my roused choler subsided. Though the insult had stung, the pain was lessened by Master Draco's revelation that his father had put me under his personal protection. It appeared that Lord Malfoy indeed meant to honour his promise to guarantee my safety and respectful treatment. The pile of books now scattered upon my table seemed to confirm it.

It was not long before I was again immersed within the pages of these precious volumes, and there I remained until it was time to retire to bed, sparing not one further thought on the churlish young noble-wizard or his eccentric friend.

However, as I settled down into my bed and waited to be transported into sleep, I could not help but dwell a little upon my impressions of His Lordship.

What a tangle of conflicting notions I already had of him, though I had only met him twice! Innately haughty and commanding, as one would expect a man of his elevated standing...yet he did not seem a despotic man, nor particularly ill-natured. His frightening use of force on our first meeting, was rather owing to the alarming circumstances such as he had related to me, and did not, I thought, stem from a natural inclination to violence. Since that incident, he had treated me with a civility I had not expected to one such as myself. Certainly, his manner was changeful; capricious, even—by turns, charming, mocking, sardonic, supercilious—but never transgressing the bounds of courtesy, (unlike his son!). ...Yet I could not call him polite. His gaze was too direct and demanding, requiring much, whilst volunteering nothing. His smile was at times as quizzical as his words were double-edged. He seemed...impervious. Like a beautiful marble statue, breathed to life. I wondered if he ever lost his temper; or if indeed he had one to lose...

An enigmatic, unaccountable man... But then, I knew so little of the nature of men, let alone rich and powerful noble-wizards; perhaps it was simply the way of the elite. Perhaps, when there was nobody above you to hold you to account, it was natural to be unaccountable.

...

Text notes:
Momus: the Greek god of mockery and satire
Drate-poke: a Victorian insult for a person who drawls or speaks indistinctly

So...what did you think of Lord Nott? I styled him after one of my favourite fictional cads, Sir Sedley Clarendel from Frances Burney's 1796 novel "Camilla". I hope you enjoyed reading him as much as I enjoyed writing him!