A/N: Ha! I told you it'd be up sooner! I didn't expect to finish this tonight – it all just came out in one sitting. Well....enjoy!
Disclaimer: JKR owns them all
Chapter 4 – The Bare Necessities
"This place is filty," Hermione remarked, swiping the countertops with the tip of her forefinger. "When was the last time you cleaned?"
"Cleaned?" Draco repeated, drying his hands on a towel. He'd just finished loading the plates in the dishwasher and wondered what was in store for him next.
"Cleaned," Hermione said again, bending down to lift a daisy-patterned floor rug. She sneezed and looked up at Draco, who watched her bemusedly. "A foreign concept, isn't it, Malfoy."
"Of course not," Draco replied irritably. "You think I don't go a day without seeing those house-elves waving around mops and featherdusters?"
"Cleaning by yourself, Malfoy," Hermione said, though she knew he'd known very well what she meant.
"It's not that hard, I'd just rather not do it," said Draco. "We're wasting precious time here, Granger. You have your wand. Perform a cleaning spell on the floor and we'll be done with it."
"Don't be ridiculous, Malfoy, housecleaning is a part of the whole muggle experience," Hermione replied, making her way toward the hallway closet. "Basics first, Malfoy!"
"I'm not a maid, Granger, I – what the hell is that?" Malfoy asked, raising his eyebrows as Hermione dragged a rather bizarre-looking contraption toward him. He watched as she attached a long accordion tube to a wheeled object and rolled it toward him.
"Hold this," Hermione said, stuffing the tube into his hand. "As you'll soon find out, muggles clean their houses very differently than wizards do."
She plugged the rubber-coated chord into the wall and turned toward Draco. "Ready, Malfoy?"
"Er – "But before Draco could reply, she snapped on a switch, causing the machine to erupt into ominously violent whirring and sucking noises. "Granger! What is this?" Malfoy yelped, nearly dropping the tube.
"What you're holding is the throat of a vacuum cleaner," Hermione said, grinning widely. "This was invented to save muggles some time during house-cleaning, because unlike wizards, they – hey! I'd advice you to keep your face away from the opening."
"I wasn't going to do anything," Draco muttered. "Enough history, Granger, what am I supposed to do with this thing?"
"Lower the tube toward the ground....no, lower....even lower....Merlin, Malfoy, just put the tube to the floor!"
Draco did as he was told and saw no visible results. "What's going on? Don't tell me this thing is sucking away the dirt at my feet...."
"That's exactly what it does," Hermione replied, smiling like how a teacher would to a primary school student who'd just learned to spell his first three-letter word. "Just move the vacuum back and forth around the furniture until you've covered the whole room."
For awhile, Draco seemed unsure of himself, but once he got the hang of it (it didn't take very long), he replaced his innocuous expression with his usual confident one. "When did muggles think up this thing, Granger?" he asked, moving the tube back and forth like a pro stay-at-home father.
"The first vacuum cleaner was patented a little less than a hundred years ago," Hermione replied, helping him move the abstract sculpture out of the way. "It took awhile for people to grasp the idea, but once it was marketed, it spread like wildfire across the United States and later, across Europe."
"I'll admit that this beats sweeping," Draco remarked, vacuuming the area behind the TV cabinet. "But if you ask me, this thing is entirely inane."
"No it isn't," Hermione argued. "The vacuum cleaner makes clever use of electricity, motors, and the physical principles of friction and pressure. It's all very scientific, you see."
"Scientific?" Draco asked.
"Science, Malfoy, the study of how the physical world functions," Hermione replied dryly.
"I know what science is," Draco said, sounding annoyed. "It's just that – "
"- that wizards don't need it," Hermione finished for him. "Unlike muggles, Malfoy, wizards have magic, which makes all things easy and convenient. Everything is do-able and accessible by the wave of a wand and the muttering of an incantation. Wizards decided long ago that they don't need science, which is why they don't use it or even bother to study it, which I think is a pity."
"Are you nutters, Granger?" Draco snorted. "Ever heard of Magicology? If that's not science, I don't know what is."
"Magicology is the study of how things work in the context of the wizarding world and under the assumption that magic exists and plays a part in all cosmic activity," Hermione argued, pushing aside a cabinet. "That's really not the way things actually are."
"What do you mean that's not the way things are?" Malfoy exclaimed incredulously. "You may be a Mudblood, Granger, but I won't deny that you're a witch!"
"Magic is only an ability certain people have to contort the rules of the physical universe," Hermione said factually. "What differentiates wizards and muggles is the fact that wizards can somehow go beyond the rules defined by science. No one really knows how we can do this – all we know is that we can defy the law of gravity at will. We can manipulate the natural movements of subatomic particles and create light from seemingly nowhere. The rules are there, Malfoy, we just aren't paying attention to them."
"What's the point?" Draco asked, maneuvering the vacuum away from Hermione. "Why study the rules? Why know the rules if they don't apply to us?"
"But that's what everyone's mistaken about, Malfoy! They do apply to us!" Hermione burst out. "Think about it – you can't properly break the rules unless you know them. Think about what we could achieve if we only studied the physical laws of the universe! If we knew about forces or the properties of the elements, we'd better know how to manipulate them! We could even study ourselves and try to find out what exactly makes us magic. We could study disorders and diseases and see if we can't find a way to work around them!"
Draco cocked an eyebrow at her but remained silent while continuing the vacuum the floor. "Don't you want to know what's actually happening when we cast a spell, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, this time a little less eagerly.
"Play with your muggle sciences all you want, Granger, but I'm telling you that it really doesn't matter in the wizarding world," Draco replied obnoxiously. "We're happy with the way things are. There's no use dabbling in what we've already defeated. We have our ways, they have theirs."
"But if you'd only give the muggles a chance, Malfoy, you'd see how ingenious they really are! Look how they've managed to adapt without the use of magic! They've taken the rules and applied them to daily life! They've taken what wizards have ignored for eons and put it to good use!"
"I don't know about you," Draco snarled, leering down at her. "But I don't look down upon my own kind."
"We're all the same kind, Malfoy! We all have the same level of intelligence. We're all human...we just live two different lifestyles." Hermione glared back at him with stubborn defiance.
"How long will it take you to figure it out, Granger? We're not the same! Can muggles transform ordinary objects into animals? Can muggles travel through time? Can muggles inflict pain upon each other using merely a two-syllable word? Put a lid on it, Granger!" Draco barked, shoving the vacuum tube behind the sofa. "And we ARE better than them!"
"Now that's just an immature presumption!" Hermione said shrilly. "I just – I just – arrgh, I've had enough of this, Malfoy. You'll learn it slowly and eventually, just like everyone else. And by the way, I don't look down on my own kind. I'm just pointing out our flaws. Everyone has them."
"Obviously," Draco muttered, turning his attention back to the vacuum cleaner.
They didn't speak until Draco had made his way around the whole room. "Now what?" he asked irritably, holding the spout straight up.
Hermione switched off the power and unplugged the vacuum. "Now it's time to vacuum the next room."
Draco groaned and followed her down the hallway.
-------------------------
BRIIIIING!
Draco jumped from his seat, his eyes darting around the room. "Granger!" He called at the top of his lungs. "Grannnngeeerrr!"
He heard the flush of a toilet and the sound of running water. "I'm coming, I'm coming," Hermione yelled from inside the bathroom.
The shrill rining went on for a few more minutes before Hermione picked up the handset of a white, numbered box and spoke into it. "Hello, this is the Carter's residence."
Draco watched her curiously. "Oh, I'm sorry, they're away on vacation....this is Hermione Granger....oh, I'm just doing a bit of housecleaning for them.....yes.....no.....oh, I'm not sure about that....oh, all right. I'll be sure to tell them when they come back. All right? Thank you, bye-bye." She set down the handset and gave Draco a very pointed glare.
"Do you really have to beckon me so desperately when you're in distress, Malfoy?" she asked exasperatedly.
"Well – I didn't know what that thing was!" Draco pouted.
"Honestly, it wasn't like it'd kill you to wait it out," Hermione sighed. "I know you're spoiled at home, but you've got to fend for yourself here."
"Isn't that what I've been doing for the last week?" Draco said impatiently. "And don't you dare call me spoiled, Mudblood. I'm just privileged, unlike you and your little orphaned and impoverished friends."
"Do you want me here or not, Malfoy? Because I can leave whenever I want to and you'll really have to fend for yourself," Hermione put a hand on her right hip. "What'll it be, Malfoy?"
"Fine," Draco said resignedly. A few seconds of silence passed between them before he said anything else. "What is that thing, anyway?"
"It's called a telephone," Hermione sighed. "Muggles use it to communicate over long distances."
"Oh," Draco replied. Great, one more uselesss muggle contraption. "I see."
"I suppose you want to know how it works?" Hermione asked. "I'm sure you'll cover this in Muggle Studies next year."
"Mug – oh, oh yeah," Draco said quickly. "I'll go get my notebook."
Hermione watched as he made his way to the master bedroom. There he was, standing just a few feet away from her, yet she still couldn't believe she was spending her summer here with him in muggle suburbia. The other girls would go mad when they found out. Harry and Ron would go mad when they found out. Actually, knowing them, they'd probably laugh at the thought of Malfoy using a computer or baking shepherd's pie.
Draco appeared presently and sat himself back down on the couch. "So how does this telly – tele – "
"Telephone," Hermione helped him. "A phone line networks the telephones in a certain area, allowing messages to be transmitted from home to home. Everyone's phone is assigned a number, so to call someone, you punch that number into the telephone. This sends a signal to the other phone, making it ring."
"I see," Draco said again, scribbling in his notebook. He really didn't see why Lucius would need a telephone, but taking notes was always a good front – especially in front of Hermione Granger, wizard geek epitomized.
"Try it," Hermione suggested, handing him the handset.
"Try it?" Draco repeated dubiously, taking ahold of the plastic apparatus. "But who should I call?"
"I'll go over to my house and you can call me there. When I pick up the phone, you'll know you've succeeded. Here's my number," Hermione scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to Draco. "Call me in about two minutes."
Draco nodded and watched her walk to her house next door. As soon as she disappeared around the hedge, he carefully dialed the phone number and waited.
Three rings passed before he heard a click on the other end of the line. "Hello, Malfoy?" Hermione's voice chimed, sounding somewhat crackly. "You've done it! Congratulations!"
"Yes, why don't we just throw me a big party?" Draco joked. "I hereby mark June 16 as the day a Malfoy communicated by a means other than a fireplace."
"Good on you," Hermione said, and then put down the phone.
Draco heard the phone go dead and listened curiously at the strange, synthetic humming coming from inside the handset. Just as he put it down, the door opened and Hermione walked in holding a container of something that smelled simply heavenly.
"Lunch, Malfoy?" she asked, setting the aluminum container down and revealing a home-baked batch of beef cobbler. "Compliments of my mother. She and dad are at a dentists' conference."
Draco didn't say anything, but quickly set the table for himself and dug into the meal.
"Ahem," Hermione coughed, reminding herself vaguely of Dolores Umbridge.
"Oh," Draco said through a moutful of food. "Thelloormuvferfanks."
He almost reminded her of Ron, but then Hermione stopped herself from saying anything. Malfoy was a twit, she told herself, a spoiled little ferret who, at sixteen, lacked proper manners or consideration for others. He was demanding, snobbish, and more than a little obnoxious.
But if he was really all of these things, and maybe more, why did she bother to stay?
Hermione pondered on this as she watched him wolf down his first decent meal in a week. She supposed this was all an act of her conscience – she couldn't bear going through the whole summer knowing that a fellow wizard and schoolmate was on the verge of death by starvation and household appliances. True, he was Malfoy, and he was Harry's Hogwarts nemesis, but Malfoy was a human being who deserved....
Hermione shoved aside these thoughts and set a place for herself. Harry and Ron were right. She was too nice sometimes. Malfoy was an idiot. He deserved nothing short of cold treatment. Here was a guy whose life purpose seemed to be torturing anyone who wasn't a pure-blooded Slytherin. His daily taunts "confirmed" Ron's worst insecurities about himself and his family. His petty insults made Harry's life unecessarily harder than it already was.
But what had he really done to her? Hermione thought back to the first year, second year, third year....ah, yes. He called her a Mudblood. The first time she'd been called that foul name, it hit straight at her heart. She felt inadequate and insecure despite all she'd accomplished in school. In time she'd gotten more used to the rascist name-calling, but she'd never forget the first sting that word delivered. Then there was third year. He called Hagrid an oaf, and she slapped him in the face. In fourth year, he and his friends helped publish slander against her and Harry, and he'd hexed her in square on the teeth. In fifth and sixth year....well, there was a lot less of Malfoy, Hermione thought with interest. She supposed there'd been more important things to worry about that a school bully who'd never outgrown his jealousy of and nastiness toward her and her friends.
Malfoy was annoying, yes, but he certainly wasn't anything more than that, Hermione mused, watching him heap a second serving of beef cobbler onto his plate. He was a minor hindrance, and nothing compared to Voldemort and the Death Eaters.
"Granger," the minor hindrance said suddenly, yanking her out of her thoughts. "Are we going to be doing this everday?"
Hermione scanned the newly tidied living room before answering. "There's only so much you can do at home, Malfoy, so we'll venture outside eventually."
"Eventually?" Draco whined. "Why not today? This place is dreadfully boring, Granger...well, worse now that you're..." His voice trailed away after remembering her threat earlier that morning. Not that he really took it seriously.
"There'll come a time for that, and trust me, that time isn't now," Hermione said, finishing her last bite of food. "Come on, it's time to wash the dishes again."
They unloaded the breakfast dishes from the dishwasher and put in the new ones. "C'mon, we'll have some fun next," she assured him.
"Fine then," Draco sighed resignedly, putting away a dish. "I – "he paused and frowned slightly. "What're you smiling at, Granger?"
Hermione handed him a two drink glasses and continued grinning. "It's been nearly an hour since you last verbally insulted me."
"You've been counting? How pathetic are you, Granger?"
"And you're actually helping me put away the dishes!" Hermione chirped happily, handing him a plastic bowl.
Draco shoved the bowl back into her arms. "You're not worth the creative insult, Granger."
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were weakening," Hermione remarked with fake blissfulness.
"Shut up, Mudblood!" Draco barked, striding into the living room and down the hallway.
"Wait!" Hermione called after him. "Don't go to your room yet! There's still lots to learn!"
"I'll learn it tomorrow, all right Granger? Now piss off!" Draco shut the door loudly (it wasn't quite a slam), leaving Hermione with a living room to herself...and in the Carter's house, an empty living room wasn't just that – it was a whole entertainment system equipped with cable and surround sound.
Hermione snuggled on the couch and flipped on the TV. She surfed channels until she landed on a rerun of Judging Amy. This would do. She turned up the volume, waited, and watched.
An episode each of Men Behaving Badly, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and half an episode of Mr. Bean later, Draco emerged from his room and peered around the hallway. "You're still here?" he asked grouchily.
"Like I would leave with this TV and sound system," Hermione scoffed. "Go on and finish whatever you were doing, Malfoy."
He didn't listen, but instead fixed his eyes on the television. "Should I be afraid to ask what this is?"
Hermione flipped the channel and landed on a domestic sitcom. "Granger!" Draco shouted again.
"What, Malfoy?" Hermione sighed, not taking her eyes off the screen.
"What is this thing?"
"Sit down and you'll see," Hermione replied, waving her hand toward the opposite end of the couch.
Draco sat down tentatively and began to watch. "Is...is there some kind of story going on here?" he asked after a few minutes. "It's almost like a play....but....in a box."
"Precisely," Hermione answered crisply. "This is called a television, one of the more creative muggle inventions. Unfortunately, it does waste a great deal of time, so I guess I'll have to turn it off."
She held the remote toward the TV and was just getting ready to press the off button when Draco began to protest. "Wait! Wait...this looks interesting, Granger."
Hermione shrugged and set down the remote. "Whatever you say, Malfoy."
Under normal circumstances, this would've been the wrong thing for Hermione to say to Draco Malfoy – however, nothing about this day, much less this vacation, was even close to beign normal.
Hermione tucked a pillow between her chest and knees and continued to watch the TV – yet somehow, her eyes kept being drawn to the head of white-blond hair off to her right.
She blinked twice. The confines of the home were making her batty.
She'd definitely make sure they got out tomorrow.
A/N: You just can't escape me, can you? I'm glad I was able to put a little more brain food into this chapter, since the last couple had a lot of slapstick stuff going on. Next time: you read the last line! They're going out into the big, big world! Thanks for reading, and please review! doles out Draco plushies