They laid out a very basic framework of visitations and communication with the Order over the next half hour. Only Ron would be allowed actually into the Chateau but Hermione would be going to a meeting with the Order in a week. Not a large meeting, she was assured. The majority of the Order was in hiding and/or working within the system to keep up appearances, Hermione was informed. Neville, for example, had used his Pureblood pedigree to find work in the massive greenhouses used for major potion making companies now under the direction of the Death Eaters. He'd had to do a lot of cajoling to convince the Dark Lord that he was truly 'reformed' to the Death Eater cause and his influence was still moot. Most Witches and Wizards who were at least Half-Blood could work within the new power structure.
She also was told briefly that every single wand in Wizarding Britain was monitored through one office in the 'Ministry'. Only the most trusted Dark and Pureblooded Wizards were allowed to even know where the office was. Draco waved off her interest in the matter by telling her they could discuss it at a later date.
Once the communication and meetings were set up, Ron made his excuses to get back to his own home before someone missed him.
"Wait, who would miss you?" Hermione had blurted at this point. A dark look passed over Ron's face and she immediately apologized, "I'm sorry Ron, That came out wrong. I meant who do you live with?"
"Still with my family but they don't know yet that you've been picked up," Ron answered stiffly. "All of this was very… what's that word? Clandestine? Secretive anyway. The extra eyes were last minute and everything." He stood to leave and Hermione stood as well, trying to be graceful despite the pain movement caused her. "I'll be back on Saturday like we planned. Let me know if you need anything I might be able to bring."
After Hermione nodded, Ron glanced at Malfoy, then showed himself out.
"Charming as always," Draco had muttered. Draco asked to show her to her room immediately after Ron left. The house was large, but not too confusingly spread out.
Malfoy was brief in his descriptions and assumed she would figure most of it out on her own anyway. He wasn't meant for this droll tour guide ridiculousness. He figured making sure she wasn't attached to him in any way would make this awkwardness end more quickly.
The sitting room and dining hall were on the first floor, along with 'some casual rooms' in Malfoy speak. The second floor was mostly devoted to academic pursuits, as the entire floor was filled with bookshelf after bookshelf. Whole rooms were divided by subject and the landing next to the stairs even had a bloody directory, if Hermione wasn't mistaken in her quick assessment.
He barely paused between floors and Hermione certainly wished he had. She was winded by the time they reached the third floor and desperately trying to hide her pain. "This floor has all of the bedrooms, Granger. Likely by the time the week is up, your strength will begin to return," He added dryly.
Ignoring the jab at her, she asked, "How am I to know which room is mine?"
"The west wing is devoted to family, so please do not enter it. The east wing, on the other hand," He gestured to their left, "Is for guests. I've had Floppy prepare the first door to the left. Left side of the landing, left door. Easy enough, since you're left handed."
Hermione froze. "That's… odd. Why would you have noticed that?"
"I notice everything, Granger. Come along, I haven't time to dawdle."
She snorted, "You sounded just like your father just then. You know that?"
He smirked and opened the door.
Beyond lay a set of rooms big enough to be considered an apartment. There was a private sitting room, a small table with chairs if the occupant wanted to dine within, an open door showed a large bed with a flowy canopy inside of it. The color scheme was brown and cream with accents of a lovely pale purple dotted around. There were even fresh lilacs atop the table. "Oh, Floppy made the room look wonderful. I must remember to thank her."
"Yes. Now before you start off on your elf rights ridiculousness-"
"It's not ridi-"
"It is! Now listen!" Draco's eyes were furious instantly and Hermione tried not to flinch away from the heat of his anger. "She's not free, Granger. And she never will be. She's perfectly happy here and wholly devoted to me. Don't you even think of trying to give her clothes."
"Of course I wouldn't-"
"Yes you would. She's a sweet little thing and you'll adore her instantly if half of the SPEW nonsense is to be believed. I've only ever treated her gently and I need her to remain my property."
"First of all its S.P.E.W. Second, what about-"
"Granger!" He hissed. "Leave it."
His glare and fury held her tongue from continuing. She wasn't afraid of him, to be sure. However his incredible possessiveness of the elf sparked a curiosity in her which his current state would not allow her to satisfy. "Fine," She growled, her curiosity didn't overshadow her indignation at being spoken to in such a way. What a jerk, she thought. After a moment, she said stiffly, "Thank you for showing me to my room." While trying to find a balance between her anger and ingrained politeness. She wanted him to leave so she could stop feigning she was alright. She wasn't. Not by any means.
He took the hint, nodded curtly, and said, "I'm sure you would like to rest. I'll not be here again until Thursday. Floppy will attend you in the meantime. Goodnight."
"Goodnight Malfoy. And… and thanks for… this." She answered quietly.
"You're welcome." He answered, looking into her face for a moment as though trying to figure something out. He clicked the door shut behind him.
Hermione looked around the room nervously. She'd been fine while hiding her nerves and pain from Ron and Malfoy. It was easy enough to shove the anxiety to the side when there were others around, but now that she was alone and exhausted from fighting herself, it rose up, eager to take her over. She sat down in the middle of the floor and closed her eyes. Focused on her breathing like that stupid muggle doctor had told her, ignored the jab of pain from a likely cracked rib, and stayed like that for a few minutes. Her heart rate was lower, thankfully. No panic attack this time.
When she opened her eyes, she half expected to find herself back in Muggle London, her senses honed to detect even a slight bit of magic around her. She stood up in this lush room instead.
It both felt like home and utterly terrifying to be around so much magic so soon after avoiding it over the last few years. "Come on, Hermione. You'll be fine. This place is meant to be safe. Stop worrying so much," She whispered to herself. She brushed a hand along the rib and felt the swelling already present with a wince. "Great." It wasn't her first broken bone since running away after the Battle of Hogwarts. She could handle it for another minute or two.
She made herself explore the apartment. A bookcase stood mostly empty, apparently ready to be filled with her own books. Well, she hadn't any of those anymore, she reflected bitterly as she turned toward the bedroom. She'd come with nothing but her wand, which was strapped to her thigh under her jeans. Her arm stayed bent near her ribs and she had started to limp slightly without having really noticed it. She was pushing her pain away from her consciousness so she could ascertain her safety.
When she saw the bed, she smiled slightly. Her bed in London had been small and hard with an annoying lump where her ribs lay when she was on her side. This bed looked like it hadn't the time for any such lumps. This bed looked like a bed for a princess in Muggle fairytales.
She glanced in the closet, expecting it to be empty and was shocked to see many sets of robes. She looked at the label of the closest one, tried to remember enough French to understand the size and gave it up. Maybe they belonged to Draco's mother or something. Ew wait to Malfoy's mother I mean. Gross.
She noticed the bathroom when she stepped back from the closet and wandered over there.
This giant tub filled with colored bubbles and swirling smells of heaven was not meant for her, surely. The clothes and then an already drawn bath? Surely there was another woman staying here or something.
Hermione bit her lip. Would she… "Floppy?" She called.
The crack of the elf made Hermione jump. "How can Floppy help Miss?"
"Hi, uh. Look, am I in the right room?"
"Yes Miss." Floppy looked mildly apprehensive.
"Did you draw a bath for me?"
"Yes Miss. Master Draco asked Floppy to prepare the room to fit Miss. Is you not wanting a bath Miss? Floppy can-"
"No, Floppy. A bath sounds fine. Everything is really lovely, really... it's just… I'm not used to having an elf around, sorry. And um… do you know why there are clothes in the closet?"
Floppy's large eyes blinked twice in confusion. "Because Master asked Floppy to prepare the room to fit Miss." She repeated, slowly as though Hermione should have understood this already. "Master said Miss was coming with nothing," She clapped her hands to her ears and pulled them in agitation, "Floppy is sorry Miss, mean no insult. Floppy meant… Floppy was… was asked to purchase appropriate clothing for Miss."
Hermione sat at the chair under the vanity. 'I notice everything' he had said.
"Is Miss alright?" Floppy asked anxiously.
"Yes just… overwhelmed at your Master's generosity… is there… Floppy can I ask you to do some things for me, please?"
"Of course Miss, Floppy is to wait on you!" Floppy answered estatically and her face lit up in an instant brilliant relieved smile.
Hermione smiled at the little elf. Draco was right, she was already quite taken with her. "Can you pull out some pajamas for me? And can you find me some pain potion and Dittany?"
"Is Miss injured?" Floppy asked, obviously worried and quickly looking Hermione over as though to find out where she was hurt.
"Yes, but I've got it bandaged right now."
"Floppy will help Miss, if she will allow it."
Hermione smiled. "Alright. I would appreciate it. Can you also find me something to eat? I've… well I haven't eaten much in a few days so…"
"Oh, Miss. You shouldn't go without eating!"
Hermione snorted a laugh. "I know that Floppy. It wasn't by choice that I went without food. But something light, ok? I don't want to get sick."
Floppy nodded again. She cracked out of the room and Hermione began shrugging out of her sweater. Her undershirt had dots of blood over her back, Hermione saw in the mirror. It had bled through the bandage.
Great.
The little elf returned and assisted Hermione through first healing her rib, then cleaning and healing the path the bullet had carved. Thank God he missed. She reflected. Well, mostly missed anyway. She would probably have a four or five inch scar across her shoulder blade, but what was that compared to the rest of them? Nothing. Floppy insisted on also healing the knife wound on her forearm that Hermione had used to drain enough- please God let it have been enough- blood for Scotland Yard or London Metro Police or whoever would investigate to declare the burned body she'd left behind as her. Maybe… hopefully it would be enough.
That idiot with the gun had better be blamed for my fake death. She thought bitterly once Floppy had gathered the medicine and left Hermione to her bathing. Maybe he would have drawn enough attention with the gun, maybe not. If he had, the gun residue would still be on his hands, so he would probably look like a good enough suspect to the police. She could hope. And who in their right mind would even have a gun in London in the first place? Hermione had probably done the world a favor if that nutter had been caught.
She lowered herself into the tub gingerly. Her fall down those stairs had really done a number on her. She would probably need something for the bruises that would start to show tomorrow. At least shed gotten the rib healed. The warm suds over her tired and sore- and so skinny- body was so soothing she nearly cried. It had been so long since she'd had the comfort of a bath. Ordinarily, she would have only the comfort of a lukewarm shower with moldy tiles surrounding her and the drunken neighbors starting their nightly screaming match in the background.
She used the soap and shampoo, then put the conditioner in her hair and lay back for a little while to let it do its thing. She closed her eyes and brought up her mental woods.
Long ago she had trained herself to relax her whirling mind enough to sleep. One of her many tricks had been to imagine a forest to an almost obscene detail. She would imagine not only the visual details but also the smells of the moss and trees, the sounds of a small creek below her. It was always summer in her imagined forest, the cicadas buzzing always cyclical in the distance. The cicadas might have to be removed from her mind, now that she was back in England. The birdsong always as close to real birds as she could remember. The clouds through the trees was surprisingly the hardest part to imagine. Something about the shadow and light made it very hard to imagine clouds as well as she could everything else. She lay on her back atop a log for a little while in her mind, just listening to imagined birdsong and allowing herself to just breathe out the strain of the last few years. Even if it was only for a little while. She was safe here.
The Wizarding world would probably get news tomorrow that she was dead- thanks to an anonymous tip from someone in the Order- and if her plan in the muggle world worked like she planned, it should be confirmed in the muggle papers within the week. Harry- no Voldemort- would believe her dead and she could figure out how to kill him. She needn't even worry about Malfoy because he would not even be here often.
The smell of chicken brought her out of her doze. Chicken and a ravenous appetite and the water cooling. She rinsed out her hair and washed her face. With a towel wrapped around her, Hermione stepped out of the bathroom and found a simple chicken and rice soup steaming on the small table with a goblet and jug next to the bowl. Cold water was in the jug and the soup was delicious.
So hungry was Hermione that she ate the soup while standing in her towel. So focused on the bowl that when it was finished and she set it down, she noticed for the first time the crusty warm bread sitting next to the bowl with a bit of butter and honey on the side.
She decided to give the soup some time to digest before having the bread. But she couldn't resist putting a drop of honey on her finger and licking it off, tasting that warm golden sweetness before she went to get dressed.
Dressed with her hair pulled back in a French braid, she sat down to enjoy the bread like a civilized person rather than the half starved woman she had been while bolting the soup down.
The drizzled honey on the rich bread may as well have been heaven to Hermione. She hadn't had anything decadent in years. Other than some stale apple pie from the old woman who seemed to always make too much for herself down the hall when she lived in New York City. And that had always had the faintest taste of cigarette smoke.
She ate the bread slowly, trying to plan out the next few days.
Where would she even start? They had tried fiendfyre and Harry had lived through it. The killing curse had no effect. Several poisonings had led to nothing. What else was there? How was he so powerful? He ought to just be a horcrux, and attached to the body in the same way. She was nearly certain that the Harry she knew and loved had died and this Voldemort possessed body was just that- a shell for the spirit of Voldemort. Which meant she needed to look into possessions maybe. She also would need more information about what he had been doing since she had gone into hiding.
She didn't bother finishing the last few bites of the bread. Her stomach was pleasantly full, and she crawled under the covers without bothering to brush her teeth. She was just too exhausted. The surrounding softness engulfed her and she was asleep seconds after she lay down.
"Master?" Floppy whispered when she arrived in her masters private study.
"Has she settled in, Floppy?" Draco asked the elf softly.
"Yes, Master. Floppy needed to use a healing potion on her."
"For her arm?"
"Miss had a large wound on her shoulder as well, Master, and a fractured rib. Miss has got many bruises. Miss did not tell Floppy what happened."
"That's rather worrisome," Draco answered with a frown. How could she have hidden that many injuries from him without magic? "I'm sure you'll take excellent care of her Floppy. She's very important to me." He swirled his firewhiskey, thinking as he watched the amber liquid swish around the glass. It made such a beautiful color when combined with the firelight. "Remember Floppy. You must help her to find whatever literature she needs to solve this… problem. But keep her out of the West Wing. It's vital she not find out about… well. You know."
"Floppy will always remember."
Draco smiled down at her. "Our families will be avenged."
Floppy smiled back and nodded eagerly to her master.
A/N: First of all, thanks for reading and for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! Secondly, Hermione's dominant hand is never actually mentioned in the books, but there's a belief that she was left handed, and I think it's right. So she's left handed to me. As I mentioned previously, this story is going to be updated on Mondays, so see you next week!