The next morning, Hermione awoke slowly. She drifted back to consciousness on a gentle breeze of comfort. The scents of lilac and soft cotton infiltrated her mind and her gentle awakening turned abruptly to a jerking one. "Where am-" She looked around wildly, coming fully awake as she muttered. She remembered.
Laying back, she looked up at the canopy above her and tried to remember that this place, this luxury surrounding her, was not a dream. She was in the palace of Draco Malfoy with the intention of finding a magical means to kill Harry Potter. If my 16 year old self could see me now… but her 16 year old self was naive and filled with girlish daydreams. And dead. That part of Hermione was dead. One day, she might try to revive her but for now, this comfortable bed was nice, but the feel of her wand and the ability to use her magic without being killed would be better.
She would be alone. That was not a new phenomenon. She quite preferred to be alone, but the house was just so quiet. She'd grown accustomed to thin walls and car alarms, children running about and screeching, neighbors yelling incomprehensible nonsense at the crack of dawn, fans blowing, and the rumble of nearby roadways. The silence of the room made her aware of her heart beating and the ticking of her eyelids as she blinked. The silence made her both relaxed and anxious at once. Too many new things. Too much silence. She needed time to process.
She sighed and got up. She was being melodramatic. What she really needed was to pee and brush her teeth.
Today was Tuesday and Malfoy had said he wouldn't be returning until Thursday. So. "Floppy?" Hermione called while she brushed her hair.
"Yes Miss?" Floppy asked as she appeared. Hermione could barely find the little elf under the tray of coffee, tea, scones, and muffins with several jams and marmalades she held.
Before Hermione answered with her inquiry, she said, "Floppy put that tray down at the table please? Thank you very much for bringing it up. I really appreciate it." Floppy had hurried over to the table as Hermione spoke. "Now then. I'm here to do research Floppy, did you know that?"
"Yes Miss." Floppy answered solemnly.
"Ok. Well I'll need a few things. Can you get things for me?"
"Of course Miss. Master has asked me to provide Miss with any things she needs for her very important research."
"Wonderful. I'll need paper and quills and ink, of course. But I'll also need a basic potion brewing set, can that be made available for me?"
"Of course Miss."
"And as many old editions of the Daily Prophet as you can find. I've been out of the Wizarding world for quite some time and I need to catch up."
"Yes Miss." Floppy answered and then bowed.
"I'll be spending most of my time on the second floor, so when you find all those things, take them there, alright?"
The little elf nodded and then cracked out of the room.
Hermione discovered a large quantity of muggle clothes in a chest of drawers and chose them over the robes. She'd never really liked wearing the long dresses and cloaks of the Wizarding world and her recent experience in the muggle world left the idea of robes yet more unfavorable to her. She wondered where in the world Floppy could have gotten these muggle clothes. She couldn't have gone into the muggle world to buy them and it was unlikely that Draco knew enough about the muggle world to go get them himself.
While pulling on some nice wool socks Hermione started wondering if Malfoy could have used the Imperius curse to make some shopkeeper just … hand things over. Her hands froze for a moment with half her foot hanging out of the sock when this thought occurred to her. She looked at the clothes again and wondered anew.
Every piece looked freshly laundered, no price tags were present... Maybe he'd just stolen them. Or taken them from some Muggles house after having killed her because she was about Hermione's size.
Hermione looked at the clothes blankly. Maybe it would be better to use the robes. Those at least she knew to be bought. But did she? Did she even know that?
"Floppy," She whispered through strangely dry lips.
Floppy popped into the room and asked, "Yes Miss?"
"Where did these clothes come from?" She asked accusingly. She ought not be angry at the elf but the thought that Malfoy might have done evil to provide her with clothes of all things made her feel crazy. Like she didn't understand the world.
The elf blushed. "I made them for Miss."
"You. You made them?" Hermione sputtered, relieved but also confused.
Floppy nodded. Shy, but wanting praise.
"Floppy I can't believe it! These are so cool! Thanks! I can't tell you the things I was thinking," She laughed.
Floppy was beaming at the praise but a frown crossed her brow at the last bit. She didn't understand what other types of things Miss could have been thinking. Hermione thanked her again and Floppy took that as her dismissal. This witch really didn't understand how to treat elves, Floppy believed.
Hermione buttered a scone and made her coffee for the morning trying to figure out the details of the character of one Draco Malfoy, despite not having seen him in about five years and having only very limited details on his personality. Would he have stolen clothes for her? Probably not, but she was really not sure where he drew the line these days. She drank her coffee and made a preliminary list of subjects to research to distract herself from thinking too deeply about Malfoy.
The room was too dark. That kind of simple description of the quality of the light in this room really seemed unsatisfactory. It wasn't the light that was the problem.
When you stood before the single most evil wizard who had ever lived, even if there had been floodlights illuminating the space around you both, it would still seem to be dark. But as it was, Draco stood before the Dark Lord in what would have been a well lit room the essential evil of his master seemed to suck all the light out of the room. Without the light, the attention of all the Death Eaters in the room was drawn toward him no matter how menial a task he was performing.
Something about the large ever-bleeding side of his face held the eye with a horrified fascination. The wound had been caused in the final battle. It seemed to constantly bleed, never clotting but also never dampen his clothing. The entire half of his face had been blown off, and yet the muscles exposed by the missing flesh seemed mostly undisturbed. Some of his unruly black hair had likewise disappeared in the blast which took the skin from his face. Some of his skull on that side was exposed.
There was no rot that had set in over the last five years, but neither had there been any healing. No smell came from the bloody wound, not even the coppery bloody smell one would have expected to smell near such a large wound. Draco's mind often wandered to how this was possible when not under the Dark Lord's close scrutiny. Was the blood real or just an illusion?
A door nearby being closed seemed to rouse the corpse of Harry Potter from its thoughtful inspection of his wand.
"The last time we met, an attempt was made to kill me," The being wearing Harry Potter's skin began. His voice was disturbingly exactly as Potter's own had been. Draco often wished he had the soft whispery voice of Voldemort. That would have been easier to deal with. "It has failed, obviously." He continued. "Thanks in part to one of our most faithful believers. Bellatrix come here."
Even Bellatrix seemed to be slightly disturbed when looking directly at the Dark Lord's face. But she looked up at him with adoration written all over her face regardless. "My lord," She breathed worshipfully.
The Dark Lord announced, "You shall be rewarded for your devotion my dear Bellatrix…" Draco ignored the rest. He could only hope that his own scrutiny might be eased with the return of Bellatrix's favor. He cupped her cheek and a strange softness came over his features, the sudden change drawing Draco's attention. "As your reward I shall allow you to see our daughter." He whispered. Draco, closer than he normally was to his Lord's chair, heard and his interest peaked sharply. A daughter? How had he not known about that? He shut down his interest and covered it in thoughts of his plans for the future. It would do no good to let his Lord know what he had heard.
Draco had been a great favorite of the Dark Lord for more than a year and the depravity of the Dark Lord's views on entertainment were becoming increasingly difficult to feign interest in. It would do him some good to be able to escape a revel or two. Maybe if… Later Draco growled to himself. It would do no good to even think about his disinterest in the Dark Lord's entertainment, even if He wasn't paying attention to him right then.
"Draco," The Dark Lord called, still playing with Bellatrix's face. "I believe you had a report to deliver."
Draco did. He turned to to the high ranking Death Eaters and gave his required mission report of the Goblin's Rebellion they had recently squashed. The little shits had been holding their money hostage. Draco had led a special forces team of his own design into the Gringott's stronghold and now there were only a few Goblins left alive.
In all of Britain.
Draco could see that he had pleased Him in the glances and pleaded expressions of the surrounding members of the inner circle.
The tactical prowess Draco had developed in the last few years had surprised many people who didn't know him well. It was no surprise to his father nor to the Dark Lord. Both of them recognized a scheming nature in Draco from a young age. It only took a bit of training in military tactics before Draco showed his true colors. After years of practice, he was the lead on most military operations. He had a knack for selecting the best course of action to turn anything to his favor. The legend of his military prowess was well noted by the Dark Lord and he was very well rewarded for his successes- even when it had been only Draco to survive a raid on the enemy.
Of course, no one could ever prove that Draco had maybe helped some of his fellow Death Eaters to die in the heat of battle. No one would suspect it when he got such good results. Like getting the goblins to surrender their money once more.
Of course he left out that most of the goblins had been sent to the Americas through a highly illegal and totally untraceable portkey that Draco had brought with him at the instruction of the Order of the Phoenix. Nor that some of the bodies had been dummies to fool the lower ranking Death Eater cleanup crew.
It was absolutely true that he was very proud of his actions and that now there were only a few goblins left alive in all of Britain. He just neglected to mention that not all of them had been killed.
That Tuesday Hermione spent familiarizing herself with Harry's movements through the Daily Prophet. She knew it was all heavy propaganda, but she was smart enough to get the basics of the overthrow of the ministry and closing of all the Wizarding borders out of the articles. She had no idea how so many people could have succumbed to fear so fast.
Five years was really not that long, and yet most of the major operations had been completed within eighteen months! She couldn't believe it. The Battle of Hogwarts had been reported as though it had been a minor skirmish. There had been no mention of a final showdown between Harry and Voldemort, not that she had been expecting it. Harry had been listed as missing after that battle. So had she. And Ron, the whole Weasley family, Luna, Neville, and most of her classmates.
She would need more information. She had known that there was much Draco was going to have to tell her, but she had really hoped to get most of the story from the papers. No such luck.
She also made a rather morbidly extensive list of possible ways to kill Harry.
She took tea at 2:30 and asked Floppy to sit with her, as much for information as to hear another voice in the silent house. Floppy was uncomfortable sitting, but Hermione suggested she just clean while they chatted. The elf was content with this compromise. This would become a regular routine for them.
It was during the second of these chats on Wednesday afternoon that Hermione found out that the chateau used to be a Muggle building. "Many many enchantments is on the building, more than any other of the Malfoy Estates. It's possibly the safest house in all of Britain, Miss. Master wouldn't have it any other way." Hermione wondered what Floppy meant by that but Floppy quickly continued, "Muggles destroyed the building during some war or another, and there's no trace of it left in their world."
Hermione thought about that for a moment. Not only was it a Muggle building and so hard to find in the Wizarding world, but also it was a reportedly destroyed one as well. She truly was safe here, so long as Malfoy didn't tell anyone where the building was. Ron couldn't tell because his life depended on it. She was all alone except for Floppy. "How interesting," Hermione said while she thought. "Can you tell me anything about your master, Floppy? I know you're bound to remain quiet but…" She sighed. "Never mind. You probably can't tell me anything anyway."
"Master is…" Floppy had stopped her cleaning and was staring at the wall as though transfixed. "Kind. He has… pain and… anger, but… not toward Floppy."
Hermione stared into her teacup while she thought about this. "Do you… do you know why he agreed to house me?" Hermione asked.
Floppy turned around and looked at Hermione with wide eyes. "No Miss. I never thought… it wouldn't be my place to ask, Miss."
"I don't know either." When Hermione locked eyes with the little elf, she found herself continuing her inner monologue aloud, "He hated me in school. I haven't any idea what would make him suddenly change his mind and try to aid me. The things that he is doing," She gestured to the papers on a desk not far away, "Are bad, but not really worse than what he did in the past, do you understand?" Floppy nodded and stepped a bit closer. "The missing people, the rapes, the press takeover, the Ministry takeover, nothing unlike what happened before. So why would Malfoy have changed his mind?" Hermione said, continuing thinking aloud.
The elf broke eye contact and scurried back to her cleaning. "Floppy doesn't know Miss. Maybe Miss should ask Master?"
Hermione decided that it would be best to drop the conversation. Something had obviously spooked Floppy, and it would probably not help to push her.
She finished her tea and went back to her book. When Floppy asked if she was done, Hermione nodded and thanked her graciously.
Wednesday night, Hermione received a short note from Ron asking how she'd been. She wrote him back an equally short note stating that everything was fine and she was chasing down several ideas. She requested an untraceable wand if he could get it. She would need it to make potions.
She took time that evening to read a book for pleasure, something she hadn't done in eons. After a half hour or so of trying to pay attention to the simple book, she sighed heavily and put it down.
She picked up her notes and poured over them once more. She added a note: if we succeed in killing him, what to do about his loyalists? And as she put the quill back in its pot, she wondered aloud, "And how will we know if he's dead?" Her eyes widened, realizing that Draco Malfoy must have some larger goal in all of this.
She groaned and put her head in her hands, "Gods, how could I have been so stupid? Of course he would want to be the one to tell everyone Harry is dead. Then he would be safe from prosecution." She muttered to herself. She rolled her eyes. "And he could make himself be the hero of the story. Typical fucking Slytherin." She stood from her table and stretched. She decided that she would talk to him about all of the details of Harry tomorrow when he came.
A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites! I'm really enjoying reading your reactions, so drop me a review! I'm curious to know where you all think this is going! Happy Halloween and I'll see you all next week for Chapter 4!