It was a Sunday. Hermione loved Sundays, though, she could not remember why. Still, the spring in her step was different today, especially because it was autumn. The normally gray world was saturated in reds, yellows, and browns. It was an overcast day, and it looked like it could rain at any moment, but Hermione beamed. She loved the rain. Its pitter-patter calmed her and... it felt like home.
She hopped off the bed and tried to peek into the garden, but she found that she was too small to do so. Hermione pursed her lips and looked around. As if a light bulb went off in her head, she suddenly had an idea. She climbed the dresser next to the window and used it to step on the ledge, where she balanced herself precariously. She held onto the curtain as her body steadied. She was able to get a full view of the garden from up here. She spotted two house-elves tending to the red and yellow plants, and two more scrubbing the stone pathways. One was grooming... what looked like a peacock, only, the normally vibrantly-colored bird was completely white.
"Good morning, Little Miss!" Dobby managed to apparate into her bedroom without a sound. Hermione jumped in surprise and tumbled down the window's ledge. Thankfully, she landed on the carpet.
"Oh no! Dobby is sorry, Little Miss!" He cried. "Truly, very sorry to have caused you pain! Oh, this is horrible! Mistress Malfoy is never going to forgive me!" Dobby took the bedpost in his little hands and started banging his head on it. "Ohhhhh," He wailed.
Hermione stood and ran to him, wedging him apart from the bedpost. "Dobby, stop it! Look, it's okay, I'm alright!" She said, showing her arms, legs, and a bright smile.
Peering up at her with teary eyes, he said, "Little Miss is not in pain?"
"No, Dobby." Hermione chuckled.
"Oh, thank Merlin!" Dobby looked at Hermione in relief and took her two little hands in each of his. "In that case, it's time for the Little Miss to have her breakfast!" The delighted look on his face abruptly melted into sheepishness. Dobby looked down and played with his thumbs. "H-however... Master Malfoy informed Dobby that Little Miss is to dine here, in the guest house, rather than with them in the main house. Dobby is sorry, Little Miss, really."
Hermione smiled at him. "No problem, Dobby. I like eating alone."
"The secret is safe with me! Now, let's get the Little Miss something to wear," Dobby kept his hold on her right hand as he led her through the door of her wardrobe. She went through the different options of jumpers, dresses, and skirts presented to her on a rack. After a minute, Hermione picked a pretty white-collared lavender sundress that went up to her knees. Magically attached to it was a simple lavender ribbon designed to be worn as a headband. "Will this do?"
"It's perfect, Little Miss! Although Dobby recommends wearing a robe over it, and some stockings as well. It's quite chilly today, and Dobby thinks it will rain. There might even be a storm. Dobby will be waiting for Little Miss in the dining room downstairs while Little Miss changes." With a snap of Dobby's fingers, he was gone.
Hermione laid the dress and matching headband down on her bed while she freshened up. Right after she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and when she was able to manage her mane of curls somewhat acceptably, Hermione stepped into the surprisingly lightweight dress, swishing it side-to-side to see the pleats sway in synchrony. She retrieved a gray robe from the clothing rack and wore it above her dress. A pair of flesh-colored stockings was inside one of her closet's many drawers. She took a pair and donned it. Finally, she clipped the headband to make sure her hair would stay put and looked at the mirror.
Hermione Lestrange never thought of herself as particularly beautiful (although… she did have a very faint memory of a voice telling her that she was the prettiest little girl in the world), but she smiled at her reflection and thought, maybe she was… just a tad. Her teeth were only growing in, but the two front ones were already a little larger than normal. She never had a reason to be bothered by them, though. She gave herself one last look in the mirror before walking out of the closet
Finally, she stepped into comfortable gray boots and exited her bedroom.
Once she was in the hallway, it dawned on Hermione that she did not know how to go to the dining room where Dobby was waiting for her. She turned her head to the left and the right, trying to make guesses along the way. She remembered from yesterday's breakfast that the staircase to the foyer was down the corridor after she took a left. Once she was downstairs, she wandered around the guest house. Hermione opened doors to more bedrooms, a study, two water closets, and a small library. She took note of that library for later but left it alone when she discovered that it was not the room she was looking for.
She walked along a hallway and noticed a creak on the floorboards where she stepped. She shivered because it was suddenly colder in this part of the house. This was unusual. She stepped on the floorboards again. It felt as if this patch of wood was almost on a notch of some sort. Curiosity overwhelmed Hermione as she crouched down to it. She felt around the cold floor for a groove or a clasp, and after digging her fingers in between boards, she found one. She tried lifting it, but couldn't. Again, she gave all her might to attempt opening the mysterious underground room, this time trying to channel her magic into it. She gave all her physical strength into this pull and practiced hard on thinking about opening it completely, but all she was able to do was lift it a centimetre off the ground. A gust of cold air hit her from below but it stopped once she shut the wooden opening. She huffed and her stomach growled at her. Hermione gave up. Maybe some other time.
She took a turn about the guest house once again, passing by the same rooms twice, and trying to memorize the twists and turns of the first floor. There was a clock above the mantle that read nine-fifteen. The Malfoys must be finished with their breakfast by now if what Narcissa said about the rules was true. Finally, Hermione came to a stop in front of the double doors facing the garden. She looked outside and spotted Lucius and Draco on the patio of the main house. Lucius seemed to be sipping on a brown cylindrical tube every few seconds, letting out smoke when the stick was removed. Draco was standing on his tippy-toes, left arm extended to feed a white peacock.
She slid a door open and walked towards them.
Lucius kept his eyes glued to the paper he was reading, but Draco spotted her as soon as her shoes hit the pavement. She looked very different from the way she did the day before. Gone was the shy and apprehensive look in her eyes. Today, she all but skipped towards him with a smile on her face, her lavender dress bouncing with her curls.
Draco was awestruck. The youngest Malfoy only had two friends, but Crabbe and Goyle were hardly considered pretty. He knew of other girls his age, like Pansy Park-something and Daphne what's-her-face, but he had never actually met them yet. As Hermione made her way to him, he wondered if all girls were like her. Probably not, Draco thought as a subtle blush colored his cheeks.
Hermione stopped before the steps to the patio. She looked at the two men and greeted them both. "Mr. Malfoy," Lucius looked at her for half a second, then inclined his head in acknowledgment.
"Young Mr. Malfoy," she greeted Draco as well. He copied his father and gave her a curt nod.
She clasped her hands in front of her. "I… I'm quite lost." She said a little sheepishly. "I can't find the dining room." She looked at Draco when she said this, the implication in her eyes.
Draco stared at her, realizing that she wanted him to show her where the room is. His heartbeat was audible to him… it was fast. He looked at his father, asking permission wordlessly.
It took a while for Lucius to realize that Draco was silently asking for his permission. "Oh, go on, Draco." He said in annoyance, letting out another puff of smoke when he talked.
Draco put the biscuits he was feeding to a peacock on the floor. The bird pecked at it beside him, and he straightened up, dusted his impeccable pants, and led the way. "It's through here." He said.
While they were walking, Hermione, a foot or two behind Draco, thought about his behavior, specifically when it came to his father. It was obvious to Hermione that he held his father in high regard. To say that he idolized the wizard might be an understatement. He looked at Lucius with adoration and respect clear in his face. Hermione also noticed that Draco seemed to mimic his father's actions… no doubt he was taught to do so. Hermione tried to ignore the jealousy threatening to surface in her. She never had a parental figure to look up to. All her life she had been taken care of by a house-elf. She loved her house-elf dearly, but she would have been happier if she at least met her parents.
Hermione was startled from her musings when Draco walked past the door she came from—the one with the foyer and the big clock. He kept walking towards the side of the guest house. So that's where the dining room was, Hermione thought.
They walked through a set of double glass sliding doors, much like the ones that lead to the foyer. Inside it was a very pristine dining room painted in olive green and white. The table was a circular slab of dark wood, and it had eight chairs around it. From the adjacent room, Hermione could hear the clanging of kitchen items and cutlery. She suspected Dobby was behind it. This dining room did not come close to the grandiose of the main house, but Hermione found that she liked it more. It felt… almost a little bit cozy, and she didn't know why.
"This is the dining room. You've got to enter through those doors." Draco gestured in the general direction of the doors.
"Your house is a little confusing. I'd found a library and a secret basement earlier." Hermione paused. "Thank you for showing me the way." She tried hopping on to one of the chairs with a little difficulty due to height.
"No worries," Draco said. He then realized that it was his cue to leave her alone. He hesitated by the doors while Hermione clambered onto the chair. For some reason, he felt uncomfortable leaving her just yet. He found himself wanting to spend more time with the intriguingly eloquent little girl. Suddenly, he had an idea. A bad idea… for Draco anyway. It was very much embarrassing, but it was the only way he could spend more time with her.
He opened and closed his mouth a few times, much like a fish gaping in water. He took a breath before speaking but realized that what he was about to say was very humiliating for a Malfoy. He examined the floor instead. If his father were here, he'd tell Draco to wait for Hermione to initiate, and not the other way around.
A Malfoy must always put himself first.
So Draco loitered by the perimeter of the room, not making himself known, but not making his way out either. Hermione spoke again. "Do you want to join me?" She asked.
He looked at her. "No thank you, I've eaten."
"Oh um… okay." The awkwardness lingered between them for a few seconds. Hermione smiled a sheepish little half-smile at him, and Draco had to look down and grimace in order for her not to see the pink blush coloring his cheeks. He wished she would not smile at him like that anymore. He was starting to fear that she might discern his sheepishness as a crush on her. Merlin forbid.
Without thinking, he blurted. "Doyouwantmetogiveyouatour?" Immediately after, Draco mentally slapped his forehead. So much for putting Malfoys first, he thought.
Hermione cocked her head to the side in confusion. "Sorry?"
Draco looked up into Hermione's baffled face. "Do you… want me to give you a tour?" He asked slowly. "O-of the estate. Just so you won't get lost next time."
"Oh," Hermione said, looking at her empty plate. "Sure." She said.
Just before he was obligated to give a reply, Dobby exited the kitchen, holding a tray of food covered in a silver cloche. "Little Miss is here! Dobby hopes Little Miss hasn't been waiting too long! The chicken took quite a wh-Young Master Malfoy! Forgive Dobby for not seeing you there!" Dobby scrambled to place the food in front of Hermione.
"I was just leaving." He turned to Hermione. "Come to the patio after you eat. I'll show you around." He smiled at her for the first time and left the dining room.
Hermione's eyes followed him as he walked away from them. She found him a little peculiar, but it was definitely not a bad thing. She was grateful for his offer to give her a tour, because she would have ended up asking for one, anyway.
She made small talk with Dobby while eating her eggs and chicken. They were very well-cooked. She savored every bite and gave the chef compliments where they were due. After the meal, she was satisfied and happy. She let out a small burp.
"Oh! Excuse me," She said, covering her mouth and giggling.
"Burps mean you enjoyed the food, Little Miss," Dobby said.
"I did, very much. Thank you, Dobby. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to brush my teeth." She said, hopping off the tall chair and making her way out. She passed through the garden again, catching Draco's eye as she did. He looked down as soon as their eyes met. What a shy boy, Hermione thought.
She walked the long distance to her bedroom and brushed her teeth. She left right away, not wasting a single minute. She found Draco on the patio seated on a wooden chair. His father was nowhere to be found.
"Hello," She greeted.
"Hi." He said back.
Both of them stared at each other for a few seconds. Just as Hermione was about to speak, Draco beat her to it. "Are you ready?"
"Yup,"
"Let's go then." He said. He pivoted and walked towards the sliding doors of the Manor. He led her through many rooms and hallways, before pausing at what looked like the front door. "Let's start here. This is the foyer…" He then proceeded to tell her about its history and the select few who were allowed to enter through this specific room. Its long walls and columns stretched up higher than Hermione thought was possible. She was filled with awe. It looked as if they were painted to be a pristine white once upon a time, but the color greyed and decayed, leaving a greenish-gray color in its wake. Everything seemed to be ornately carved and decorated with French accents. They may have been elegant a decade or two before, but now they looked imposing, especially because no lights were lit in the room, making it seem gloomier than usual.
Connected to the foyer was a grand ballroom. He informed her that it was used mainly for his mother's charity galas and numerous high-society balls. It was much like the foyer in architecture and design, but it was way bigger. Draco's voice also echoed endlessly around the room, making it just as imposing.
He showed her multiple studies, a library, and a music room with a big pianoforte that caught Hermione's eye. Draco also pointed out multiple doors that led to forbidden rooms. Most reasons for such restrictions were that the rooms belonged to several late Malfoys, and their portraits still talked (and insulted) onlookers as if they were alive.
They spent hours touring the Manor. The only wing she was not allowed to be in was the East Wing, which was his parents' wing. Because of Hermione's inquisitive nature, he had initially thought that she would insist on a tour anyway. But Hermione understood the concept of privacy, impressing Draco. He showed her the West Wing instead, which was Draco's own personal wing of the manor. He had his own library, study, and six extra bedrooms. For what reason, Hermione asked. Draco did not know either.
About halfway through the tour, the rain started pouring outside. It wasn't, by any means, the calming sort. It was an uproar, all of a sudden. Winds from different directions blew across the grounds of the Manor, shutting whatever doors and windows it came into contact with. Hermione walked a little closer to Draco, pulling her robe over her shoulders in the process.
They were walking across the main drawing room when Hermione noticed a staircase that led downstairs. She could not see beyond it because it was dark, even with the lightning providing brief flashes of illumination. She was reminded of the groove on the floor back in the guest house and stopped in her tracks.
Draco stopped walking when he heard her footsteps cease. "What's wrong?"
Hermione pointed at the dark stairwell. "What's down there?" She asked. Somewhere above, thunder cracked.
"Oh…" Draco paused. "Well, I-I'm not allowed to go down there either but…" Draco looked around, and upon seeing that nobody was there to witness, he took Hermione's hand and led her to the stairwell. He whispered, "You mustn't tell anybody that we've been here. Not Dobby, and especially not my mother."
Hermione nodded.
Once they descended, the temperature instantly dropped. The hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stood. Her eyes adjusted to the dark. Directly in front of them was a large cell door, crisscrossed with rusty iron bars. Beyond it was a dank-looking den. No… not a den, but a dungeon. It was a small room. So small, in fact, that Hermione could not envision Lucius standing upright inside it. The air was humid as if this room had its own atmosphere. It reeked of urine, feces, and some other odor she could not place.
It was absolutely horrendous.
"This is the cellar," Draco said. "Whenever Father has... enemies, sometimes he brings them down here. And when he does, I'm not allowed to be outside of my bedroom, so I can't tell you much about what goes on. Although… I-I do know that these people never get out. That probably explains the smell." Draco whispered. It was as if he might disturb somebody residing in the dark corners they could not see, had Draco spoken any louder.
"They… die in here?" Hermione's hands trembled. She put them in the pockets of her robe to keep from the cold.
"I think so. But…" Draco tried to justify his father. "It's probably for good. Father would never kill anyone if they didn't deserve it."
Hermione doubted that, but didn't tell Draco.
"I don't want to die here." She said quietly, fear creeping up to her. Mentally, an image flashed in her head of herself in this very dungeon, weak and powerless. Thunder shook the building again.
Draco looked at her. "That's nothing to worry about, I can assure you." He noticed her chattering teeth, either from the cold or from fear. This tour was not going well. He took her hand. "Come on, let's get back before anyone catches us."
Hermione was going to let him lead her out when on the other end of the cellar, Hermione spotted a ladder leading to the ceiling. "Where does that ladder go?" She asked.
Draco turned back around to see what she meant. "That actually goes up to the guest house. There's a hidden entrance in one of its hallways."
"What?" Hermione's fears heightened. Suddenly, living in the guest house wasn't so appealing anymore. "I've seen that entrance earlier today. I tried opening it." It was gradually getting harder and harder to breathe. Hermione's chest felt constricting, and she took uneven, jagged breaths. Her mind went into lockdown.
Draco vaguely remembered her telling him that she found a secret basement whilst looking for the dining room. She really had found it. "No, no, no, don't worry, nobody can open it. Shh..." He tried calming her down by taking her hands and looking into her eyes. "Calm down, Hermione."
Hermione closed her eyes. The rain was relentless, even from the dungeon, they would still feel the series of onslaughts on the building. The thunder was certainly no help either.
"It's going to be alright." She heard him say. "It's charmed to remain shut with blood magic. That means the only people who can go open it are Father, Mother, and myself. It's why you couldn't open it. There's nothing to be afraid of. Nobody's going to hurt you."
His words did little to alleviate the pressure she felt in her lungs, but she forced herself to even out her breathing. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. It slowly worked.
Draco said, "If you feel scared in the guest house, I can ask Mother to move you here. There are plenty of rooms in the West Wing."
"No, I'm alright." She breathed. "There's no need… I'll just stay away from that part of the house." She said. Hermione turned back around and ascended the stairs. Her hand was still in Draco's.
"Show me the library again, please." She said.
As Draco followed her out of the cellar, he made a silent promise to Hermione that she wouldn't ever again go through such panic, if he could help it. Draco shuddered, thinking of how tightly her little hands clung to his for stability. He hated it. From now on, the cellar was off-limits to both of them.
He showed her around the guest house next, and not once did she let go of his hand.
Many years later, Draco and Hermione would come to find out that her shaking hands, need for physical touch, and shortness of breath were actually signs of a panic attack. Today, however, they thought nothing of it.
Draco pointed out that the guest house was built a century after the Manor, which explained the updated style of architecture and lighter motifs. He gave names to all the rooms Hermione already ventured into while searching for the dining room. There was only one hallway they didn't attempt exploring, and Hermione didn't have to ask him to avoid it. Draco already knew.
Overall, the Malfoy Manor was a dreary, dark thing. It stood in contrast with the guest house, which was much smaller, brighter, and cheerier. However, both houses had their secrets, and Hermione was not sure where she preferred to live, given the chance to choose. She would definitely avoid the hallway with the creaks on the floor.
As Hermione laid in bed that night, she thought of her tour guide. She really liked Draco, and she hoped they'd become even closer as friends. He was sensitive to her emotions, and she could tell that he was an intellectual, much like herself. She was excited to start classes with him.
Tomorrow, classes will officially begin with Governess Rosier. She did not know anybody besides Draco, so she was excited to meet other magical children. She started thinking about what they would be like. Would they be nice? As nice as Draco? Or would they be quiet and unkind? She earnestly hoped for the former. No matter what, she was ready to face them because she knew she had at least one friend. She slept with a smile on her face and her spirits high.