Chapter 5: Picture Talk
"Okay, I'm here. What would you have me do?" Hermione spoke quickly once Draco had opened the door. She had tied a bandana around her forehead to keep her fringe out of her house and she was dressed in loose fitting clothes for easy bending and stretching. Draco looked at her amused. This girl was getting all worked up over cleaning?
"Come in, come in," he said airily, leading Hermione in through the large mahogany doors. Hermione was so preppy; she could have formed a one-man cheerleading squad for the Quidditch Finals. That was until she saw the main foyer and almost dropped dead.
"Watch your step Granger, you won't want to step on owl droppings at seven in the morning," Draco snickered as he looked back at the dazed Hermione and accidentally stepped into a pile of droppings. Swearing, he zapped the droppings off his shoe and indicated for the currently giggling Hermione to follow him. "It's not funny," he snapped over his shoulder.
In the kitchen was Ben, happily munching away on his sugar loaded cereal and playing with a toy. When he saw Hermione he gave a loud burp and ran towards Hermione's leg with a large scream, "Herb!" Hermione was slightly knocked back and tried to balance herself on the kitchen ledge. "It's Hermione, Ben. Hermione. Not Herb," Hermione smiled and tried to correct Ben for the millionth time. Draco had poured two cups of coffee and added in a sugar cube for each cup. "One sugar right?" He asked over his shoulder. Hermione nodded and tried to untangle herself from the messy hyper lump that was tightly wrapped below her knees. "Ben, leggo, let go of me, Ben! I'm going to fall, AGH!" Hermione gave a small shriek and toppled into a colourful mess on the slightly sticky floor.
Draco looked at the crumpled lady on the floor and placed the two mugs on the table. He bent down and offered a hand, which Hermione willingly took. Hoisting her up, Draco gave a weak smile and gave her instructions about the house. "Okay, firstly, clear up the crap on the main foyer. Clean the walls, do something about the broken windows and tiles, clean the tiles, make sure no lamps are found in the toilet bowls, dust the couches and the furniture upstairs and wipe them clean. Wash the bathrooms, there are eleven by the way, then go to the bedrooms and guest rooms and dust them out as much as you can. Don't ever, I repeat, don't ever get into the rooms that are locked because they probably contain Dark Art artefacts and antiques. Oh yes, the kitchen needs cleaning too, and if you have time, please stock it up, here's the list of stuff we need and this is a hundred galleons which is only to be used for restocking the household items. And I want to see the receipt. Clear?"
Hermione nodded her head mutely. Did she even remember what he had just said? "You sure you don't want me to repeat those instructions all over again, Granger?" Draco raised his eyebrows and put on a look of mock concern. Hermione albeit slightly rattled replied as coolly as she could, "No thank you Malfoy. All I need to do is clean and clear, don't touch locked rooms and stock the kitchen. Easy." Malfoy bent in towards Hermione and stared at her. "This Manor is more than just two storeys," He said mysteriously for added effect. "Then expect the levels to be spanking clean when you get home," Hermione matched his stare and gave a wide grin, "Because, I have my ways." She gave a dramatic fling of her arms as wide as she could, almost toppling over a vase with wilting flowers. Draco snickered and grabbed his cloak.
"Off to work!" He announced and with one swift move kissed Ben on the forehead and disapparated. "A tad dramatic isn't he?" Hermione mused. "Uncle Draco is always like that. He's a nice uncle, Herb. Why don't you like him?" Ben asked curiously. "In school, honey, he made my life a living hell whenever I was around him. Let's just say he wasn't a nice person to me," Hermione sat on the ledge of the kitchen and sipped her coffee. "What's a living hell?" Ben asked again. "Something you shouldn't know about," Hermione smiled back. Hermione jumped off the kitchen ledge and gave a winning smile towards Ben. "Let's get this house clean Ben! And make your uncle proud of you!" Hermione yelled and rolled up her sleeves. Ben gave a delighted shout and clapped his hands wildly.
Hermione rummaged through some boxes and eventually found an old wireless radio. She turned it on and tuned it to her favourite station. "And for all you old bats out there stuck at home, go out and have fun! This is the Scottish rock group, Screwed Sparks playing their hit single!" The DJ announced before playing the loud music. Hermione transfigured a mop and a bucket full of soapy water and directed it to the main foyer. With a quick spell, the mop stood erected and was soon set cleaning the excrements of the thousand owls.
With an arm round the radio, and the other hand used as a makeshift microphone, Hermione half jumped her way up the main stairs. When she opened her eyes, only one word could describe what she was seeing, "Wow." The area was huge, like a large football pitch with numerous rooms lining each side and atriums at specific locations. And that was only the front. Behind her, Hermione found large ceiling to floor glass panes that glimmered slightly in the morning sun. There were artistically arranged flowers put in large crystal vases and huge paintings on a wall. And all around, lining the floor was a thick white carpet. It was so thick; it covered Hermione's toes. As she looked carefully at the portraits of the Malfoy family, they began to move too. Some were coughing as they tried to get the thick layer of dust off the canvas. With a flick of a wand, Hermione cleared the dust and found herself staring at a straight back lady in Victorian clothing.
"My, my, what do we have here? A muggle born?" The lady asked with a thick accent as she peered at Hermione through her binoculars. She was sitting on an uncomfortable chair and her grey dress pooled around her like a fluffy umbrella. "Yes, ma'am, I am," Hermione replied curiously. The lady laughed and put her binoculars down daintily on her lap. "Well, this is the first time I've seen a muggle-born, is it not Charles?" Somewhere, from a few paintings down, Hermione heard a loud grunt and wheezes following. Hermione followed the coughs and found herself in front of painting larger than the other. Again, she cleared the dust but to find herself being scrutinized by a man in a tight dark green waistcoat and a pair of stunningly fitting black trousers.
"Yes, yes m'dear. Indeed, it is a muggle born," The man whom Hermione presumed was Charles said and gave a small cough, which he covered politely behind his hand. "Well, I certainly did not stop them from coming. Who did?" There was a loud answer from a painting on the other side of the wall. "I did! Who wants the Malfoy family be tainted!" Came a large bellow, "The muggle born are worth nothing more than servants!" Hermione made a hiss like an angry cat at the portrait and pointed her wand at it.
She cleared the dust and saw a stout man and huge bulging eyes smoking. From the way he stood, or rather, squatted inches from the ground, Hermione thought he was an exact replica of an ugly toad. "Say that again, you twit," Hermione hissed again, an angry glint in her eye. The toad man looked down at her with supposed superiority and smirked, "Mudblood. You bloody mudblood. You are worth only a few knuts, to be traded, to be bought, to be our servants even when—" The toad had hardly finished when a curse was muttered from Hermione, causing his throat to constrict, and him to gasp for breath. Hermione looked at him with a grin like cat on her face. "Anymore to say, sir?" she asked with sarcasm dripping from every word. The toad waved his hands frantically as he clamoured for breath. Hermione lifted the curse easily leaving the man gasping. "Care to explain?" Hermione questioned the dishevelled man.
The man shrugged and called out another name. "Thelonius!" There was a grunt not far away and another wheeze. Sighing, Hermione said a spell and removed the dust from all the paintings. "Over here, m'dear!" An old voice called out to Hermione. Hermione traced the voice to find it belonged to a bent old man dressed simply in monk's clothing. "Yes sir?" Hermione asked cautiously. She never knew when this man would start spouting nonsense like the frog. Even if he were a monk.
"Nothing to fear m'dear. I am Thelonius Malfoy. And also, the only monk in the whole Malfoy history. And I am history. I know the details of everything in and out of this house. The—" The toad made an impatient noise. "Right. About muggle borns." Thelonius flipped an archaic brown leather bound book on his lap. "Ah, here it is. Muggle born wizards were not common in the wizarding world centuries ago. Everybody was of a pureblood. However, a few purebloods felt that intermarriage would lead to disastrous effects on the newborns, thus mixed marriages were allowed, leading to the half blood wizards and witches. In the later years, slightly later than the Victorian era, there were a few uncanny happenings occurring in the muggle world, where wizards were found but off a muggle descent. They were, of course under scrutiny of the Ministry and many purebloods. It was irregular and uncommon to have 'tainted' blood living among wizards. And also, because they looked different." Thelonius read from the book.
"Different how?" Hermione asked curiously. "They were unpleasant looking in the least," Thelonius said meekly, looking slightly embarrassed. Hermione felt like as if she wanted to burst into tears for such discrimination, yet it was slightly amusing to find purebloods so wont to beauty. "You have got to be kidding," Hermione eventually choked out. "Yes, well m'dear! This is very true in the least. The Malfoys have always been a good-looking family, except for him over there," The Victorian lady spoke again. The toad made another angry noise in his throat. Hermione laughed, clutching her stomach and squeezing her eyes shut. Malfoy? Good-looking? Please tell me you're joking! But when Hermione opened her eyes again and saw the people in front of her, she realised that it was indeed the truth. Yes, most were harsh looking with their porcelain white features, and sleek blonde hair. Many, or rather, almost all had piercing grey eyes and a tight-lipped look on them. Yet, all of them looked elegant and well poised, and yes, good-looking. Except for the exception of the toad.
"But you haven't told me what is wrong with muggle born wizards!" Hermione demanded impatiently. "Well, an important thing is, not many wizards have blonde hair, so it's difficult what with genes. And, nobody wanted to marry down the ladder, so it was a tad difficult," A young lady said softly from behind Hermione. "But…did you not say that purebloods did marry muggles?"
"Well, that was a bit different. You can't stop true love sometimes, m'dear but in the Malfoy family, most marriages were pre-arranged so nobody had much of a choice right?" Thelonius said apologetically. A few voices spoke up with agreement.
"We certainly thought that intermarriage was a good idea, but the Malfoy family have been doing pre-arranged marriages for so long, it is hard to break the tradition. But, all muggle borns and half bloods were welcomed as second wives!" Thelonius carried on brightly. Hermione gave a loud sigh and sat on the lush carpet, which was now turning grey from dust. "Let me get this straight. You people, married purebloods with blonde hair, and were allowed second wives even if they weren't purebloods. So where are their pictures?" Hermione asked loudly. "Second wives do not get their pictures up," the toad hissed nastily with a cackle, "And anyways, we Malfoys never kept second wives."
Losing her patience, Hermione yelled a curse and blasted it at the toad. Yet, the portrait still remained, with the nasty toad still cackling louder than ever. Hermione swore quietly and looked at the other pictures. "Can anybody tell me why this toad was even in your family? He certainly does not have platinum hair." The other pictures laughed and the toad fell quiet. "He'd adopted, child," Charles, the Victorian wizard called out. "Adopted? I see. So, sir, were you ever married?" Hermione asked smoothly as she fingered her wand and walked towards the toad. The toad gulped and backed away as far as he could with his eyes bulging. And then he realised that he could actually move from frame to frame.
Hermione grinned at the panting toad as he ran as quickly as he could away from Hermione. The other portraits laughed too until he ran past them which caused them to look disgruntled as their space was overtaken by the toad. Hermione soon bid goodbye to the portraits until she came back to clean them later. Well, at least we now know why Malfoy is so stuck up.
Hermione laid her back on the cool marble floor and gave a wide smile as she looked up. The ceiling was free from spiders and lizards and was a bright brilliant white it almost blinded her. She had spent a few hours on her back cleaning the high ceilings, levitated off the ground along with a few rags and a bucket full of water and soap. Before that, Ben and her had been cleaning the toilets. To her surprise, Hermione had found a few waterlogged pipes full of blonde hair. Whom they belonged to and where, Hermione would rather find out. The mirrors had to be cleaned from dirty stains like toothpaste and black smudges. The tiles were yellow around the edges and the crème coloured shower curtains were turning black at the bottom.
After the talk with the knowledgeable portraits, Hermione had rid the main foyer of owl droppings and replaced all the wilted flowers and cleaning the vases. She had dusted the lights and chandeliers and scrubbed the tiles clean of chocolate stains and mud. She then went on to the kitchen, which was full of unwashed plates and mugs. Soon, the kitchen was clean too. After cleaning the washrooms and the ceiling, it only left Hermione with the bedrooms, the portraits and the restocking of the household items.
Deciding to tackle the portraits first, Hermione tied her hair into a loose chignon and walked up the stairs. The first thing she heard when she got close the first few portraits was a squeak followed by a few disgruntled snorts. Hermione called out to the portraits with a grin on her face, "Sorry to intrude again, but I'm just here to dust the frames and the canvas. So hold your noses!" Hermione heard a few loud breaths and then immediate silence. Hermione chanted a quick spell and pointed it to all the hundred portraits one at a time, causing the dust to fly in the air and making some of the portraits sneeze. She then took a few rags and with a quick jab, made them fly, damp, to the frames and set them cleaning. "All done, you can let go now," Hermione announced. She heard them let go of their breaths with relief. "I'll come back and check later," Hermione said as she walked away from the portraits.
The beds, Hermione soon found were large king-sized beds in every one of the rooms. Some were, of course, more elegant and extravagant. There were varying hues of green and beige in all of them. The one she found most stunning was a large bed covered in vine green covers. The pillows were encased in the finest silk and the wardrobe was made of a rich oak. On one side of the room was a locked door but on the other side adjoining the room, was a big bathroom that could have been big enough to be made into a slightly smaller bedroom. There was a huge, wide tub in the centre lined with unused scented candles and a few plants. The dark green towels were monogrammed with a cursive slant 'M' on the edge of it.
As she wiped the mirrors gently, she heard somebody coughing. Hermione spun around frantically, trying to locate the voice. "You're pretty," came a voice. Hermione held her wand tightly and dropped the cloth she was holding. Hermione soon found it to be the mirror talking to her. "What do you want?" Hermione demanded as she prodded the mirror with her wand. "I'm sorry, it's just that I don't see girls in the bathroom anymore," the mirror replied wistfully. "Then who do you see?"
"The master of the Manor." Hermione gasped and dropped her wand. "Draco Malfoy?" she eventually choked out. "Yes, that's him. All he ever does is sit in the tub, or shave, or brush his teeth. He doesn't talk much innit?" The mirror carried on. Hermione picked up her wand and looked around her. She had found Draco Malfoy's room? And his bathroom is so clean! "Is he a neat freak?" She muttered to herself. "Actually, yes," the mirror replied honestly, " He clears the tub of suds and water, wipes up the spilt water around the sink with his towel, and gets his house elf to wash the dirty towels. Did you know he doesn't use the same towel more than once a day?" Hermione made a small squeak. "He still has a house elf?"
"Yes, she's no good. All she does is do the laundry," the mirror replied, bored. Hermione could almost imagine the mirror dangling its feet off the sill, slouching. "But I thought that house elves weren't supposed to touch clothes?" The mirror gave a scrutinising gaze. "How should I know? I'm just a mirror." And that was the end of discussion.
"Malfoy! Office!" Draco heard his surname called out and perked up. He straightened his robes and got off from his seat in his cubicle. Draco hated walking down the long aisle with the two neat rows of office cubicles flanking his sides. The strip was narrow with random things jutting out a certain points in front of him like wood, cloak hangers, hats, anything. And people would stare out from their own cramped space choked with messy pieces of random parchment and the odd quill here and there. They would stare and whisper, to the people in front of them, to the people behind them, to anybody around them.
Draco hated it. It was like judgement day. So Draco had to keep calm and composed, give the odd haughty stare like most Malfoys would do and keep his heart from bursting into a tap dance. And every time he walked past a the Weasel's table or Pothead, he would make sure to give the normal snide sneer and the raised eyebrow. It was bad that a third of the Golden Trio was in the office, it just made it worse that the girl was cleaning his house and the Weasel's sister was here to replace her brother as another third of the Trio. God, could they not crowd his already cluttered life?
But today, both Scarhead and his girlfriend weren't at their tables. He quickened his pace as he neared the chief's office. He gave a sharp rap on the frosted glass panel with the sign peeling off and heard a short bark for his name again. Draco sighed heavily, now what did he do?
When he entered, Draco gave a short bow and found that he was not alone. " Here's your new partner, Potter and Weasley. Draco Malfoy." Draco stood aghast at his chief. He craned his head ever so slightly before he found two wands pointed at his neck. "Anything but him, chief. We've got a bad history between the three of us." Draco assumed that was Potter.
The chief glared at all three men in front of him. "No can do, sorry. You three are the best I've got on the whole squad and for this mission, nothing less than the best will do."
"What's so special about this mission that I cannot do with Blaise, or even alone?" Draco asked coldly and pointed his wand towards Ginny Weasley's eye. Harry Potter turned towards Draco and directed his wand towards his brain. "Harm her and you die, Ferret," Harry said softly, danger slick in his words. Draco lowered his wand and challenged Harry to meet his gaze. "You're in front of the chief, Potter. Where are your manners?" Draco replied smoothly. Harry stumbled slightly when he realised where he was. He lowered his wand and inclined his head towards Ginny to do the same. Ginny did so grudgingly, her knuckles turning white from gripping her wand too hard, and her cheeks flushed.
"Listen," The chief barked, " I have no time for games." He pulled out a thick cream coloured folder, bulging with parchment. As he placed it on the wooden table, it flew open and the contents spilled out. Inside, Draco saw the many photographs of the Servants of the Lord. Many were taken in the day, where all of them were dressed in casual robes, walking on the streets. "What is the mission, sir," Draco asked.
"These are the remaining few Death Eaters who have yet been caught because there isn't enough evidence yet. But there have been rumours that they are planning to do something big in the next few months or so. Now, I know that rumours are hardly every correct. But this time, my gut feelings are screaming that these rumours just might be true. We need evidence, people, we need hardcore evidence to reel these men in. We will go through extraordinary lengths to prove that these men are guilty. Do you here me?"
" Yes sir!" the three men stood ramrod straight and shouted out. The chief gave a grin. "That's what I wanted to hear, men. For now, we've only got this much information. We have some working undercover, but they aren't working fast enough. They just might pull a Guy Fawkes on us, do you get it? We have no idea what's going on, sources are limited. We need to do something about it."
The chief eventually let all three Aurors go, each carrying a bulging folder which was preparing the split any moment. At lunch, Draco was bent over the folder, intent on finding out more about everything. Had he not 'betrayed' his family, he wouldn't even be alive.
Draco saw a small purple heart drop in front of him a few minutes later as he reviewed the blurred photographs on his table. The heart burst into a flurry of smaller hearts varying from blue to purple. "Not now Blaise," Draco snapped irritably. The hearts vanished instantly. "Aw, c'mon Draco. Enough is enough. Get some shine on yourself already. You look liked you've been cooped in this hole for way to long," A honeyed voice floated above him. Draco waved in a random direction to make Blaise get lost. Yet, the voice didn't sound like voice, no matter how gay he was.
Draco looked up and instantly regretted his own actions. In front of him stood a stunningly thin woman with breasts the size of melons stuck on her chest. Her black hair was wavy and sleek, and her dressing unconventional. The lurid pink robes looked a few sizes too small, accentuating her breasts even further, and they looked as if they had been torn on purpose. "Hello, Pansy," Draco sighed. Pansy Parkinson gave a delighted shriek and wrapped her thin hands around Draco's neck and pulled his head to his bosom. "Why, Draco, I thought you wouldn't recognise me! After going to Egypt for this whole lose weight thing, I thought you wouldn't even know that I was Pansy from school."
Draco pulled his head away from the woman and gasped fro breath. "You were only gone for a week or so." He eventually said after regaining his normal breathing pace. Draco looked at the woman in front of her. It was almost every man's dream to bed this person. Almost every man. She had gone on a diet almost straight after leaving school ("How can anyone not eat the school's food?"), and had done weird things to her face. It looked like it had been pulled back. Her nose was straight, too straight to be normal, her lips were fuller and stretched from one cheek to the other, and her eyes just looked too big.
Pansy had sworn not to see Draco until she became 'beautiful', yet every time she popped up in front of him, the more Draco disliked how she had tried to transform herself. Pansy had gone off into one of her loud speeches about what had happened to make herself more 'beautiful', all the money that had been put into this 'project' of hers. Draco tried to shut out the noise in front of him but to no avail. Eventually, he closed the folder and placed it into his suitcase. "Lunch, Pansy?" Draco plastered on a fake smile.
Draco reached home exhausted. It was nine, and it was all because of Pansy. "I want dinner with the Draco Malfoy," Pansy had whined, and being the gentleman he was, he obliged. Before that, he had lunch with her in one of the many roadside cafés, enduring the torment of Pansy non-stop chatter. Following that, he was almost killed by Potter and Weaselette in the toilets, just so that they could 'set things straight'.
Draco took out his set of keys and opened the door. Darkness greeted him as silence made a thick blanket around him. There was no sound coming from anywhere, and his footsteps echoed on the cold marble floor. "Hello? Granger? Ben?" Draco called out, becoming slightly worried.
Draco dropped his suit case on the sofa and walked into the kitchen. The larder was full with fresh foodstuffs, and the sink was clean except for a plate and some utensils. He then walked up the stairs slowly and found an odd lump huddled outside one of the doors.
"Granger?" Draco called out. The lump moved and gave a small moan. Hermione got up from where she had been seated for the past hour and a half. Her limbs were numb from the cold and her stomach growling for food. "Malfoy," Hermione said fearfully as Draco approached her and hauled her up. " I'm sorry."
WOW! Finally got round to completing this chapter. I'm really sorry for the late update. It's just that I've got a really bad case of writer's block and every time I want to try and carry on with this, something else crops up. Hope you guys enjoy this piece though. Read and review okay! Really, this story has been getting tons of hits and views but close to none reviews for each chapter, so please, please, think about reviewing the story, okay! Thanks, ming.