CHAPTER 5
Hermione spent the night tossing and turning in her bed, her mind hovering at the edge of sleep. There were memories swirling inside of her…memories that seemed to belong to somebody else's life. Draco Malfoy…on her first train ride to Hogwarts…barging into her compartment, looking at her for a moment too long and dismissing her as unimportant. Malfoy calling her a mudblood for the very first time. Malfoy…making fun Ron and his family. Malfoy speeding past her on his broom in the Quidditch stands, trailing Harry while on the lookout for the snitch. Malfoy imitating her impulsive classroom habits during a Transfiguration lesson, lending life to the dreary atmosphere without even realizing it. Malfoy staring at her with an expression of alarmed curiosity as his aunt tortured her to the limit of pain, seemingly wondering what on earth she could possibly be lying about and why she was willing to die for it. Malfoy catching her eye over the glow of Fiendfyre beneath them, as they flied above the burning remains of the Room of Requirement.
Malfoy…dead.
She immediately snapped back to reality. As she sat up, she realized that her bedcovers had fallen off and her ratty old t-shirt was moist with perspiration. Her tongue scraped against her palate like sandpaper.
How could he just…die?
And how were the two deaths related, if they were at all? Where did Narcissa fit in all of this? Malfoys were stubborn, deadly weeds. One would've expected them to successfully tide over the adversities, to resist every opposition and come out alive, if not victorious.
The suspect list would run a mile long but if she really thought about it, it could just as easily have been one of the inner circle of Death Eaters nursing a long time grudge as it could be one from the Order. But why leave Narcissa alive?
The alarm clock on her side displayed ten minutes past twelve.
Suddenly, she had to leave. She had to get out of here. With her heart thudding wildly against her chest, Hermione Granger began to dress.
The Manor looked haunted at midnight. There was something eerily fascinating about magical structures in the dark, and the Malfoy Manor was a different league altogether. There were no streetlamps, no tacky overhead lighting, not even a single torch; the only lights illuminating it were the sallow moonbeams from the night sky, rendering it resplendent to her sleep deprived eyes.
Reaching the wrought-iron gates, she raised her wand in the air checking for wards installed by the Ministry. There were five. She dismantled four out of them, but subsequently noted that interfering with the fifth would immediately alert Dougharty.
Luckily, she knew how to climb. The bars weren't high enough for her to seriously injure herself if she somehow managed to slip off. She transfigured her socks into a pair of sturdy, protective gloves and began to climb. The gates creaked from her weight, swaying a little, but she chose to focus all her energy on balancing over the coiling metal patterns; there was not a soul around to hear or witness her awkward climbing anyway.
The cool spring breeze tugged at her curls and soothed her skin. Ruminating over her previous line of thought, she once again pulled out her wand, merely to satisfy herself.
"Homenum Revelio."
Nothing.
Oh well, it was worth a try.
The Atrium of the manor seemed to have expanded in size as she walked in through the doors or maybe it was the refractive effect of the moonlight on the crystalline dome. The metal enclosure supporting it threw zigzag shadows onto the floor and once again Hermione silently marveled over the cleanliness of the place.
The Mansion was not silent this time. It seemed to have come alive. She could hear the dull chorus of the conversations carried out between portraits, the cackling feminine laughter coming from deep inside the house. So the dead really woke up in the night. Unwilling to draw herself into their attention, she immediately cast a Disillusionment charm on herself.
I see better from this side of the world.
Yeah, right. The ferret was a rotten liar because she passed between the corridors virtually unnoticed.
It was when she had progressed onto the first floor when things really started to go downhill.
One second she was walking down the corridor leading up to the room, the excuse of having forgotten her work paraphernalia on the tip of her tongue, and the next she was flattened onto the adjacent wall by an unseen force.
The ground beneath her feet rumbled with energy.
She thought, for a second, that maybe she was experiencing an earthquake. But suddenly the floor tilted at an impossible angle causing her to lose her footing and fall onto her knees.
The hallway had been perfectly horizontal a minute ago, now it was a downward slide into darkness.
She held strong against the cold walls, waiting for the anomaly to pass. She must have stepped onto some kind of trigger – a magical landmine, but that didn't explain why she was beginning to feel a little fuzzy in the brain.
Strangely enough, she could sense that it was not dark magic; just that it was entirely unfamiliar. If only she could identify the source.
"Arghh," she groaned, holding her head by both hands.
White spots erupted on her vision as she desperately tried to scan her surroundings. Her ears were ringing; it was like her body was undergoing a stroke. She sat down against the wall and put her head between her knees.
It stopped as suddenly as it had started.
Hermione opened her eyes just enough to check herself for any injury but realized that she was still invisible.
"Finite incantetum." Everything appeared to be in fine order.
A loud crack sounded in the hallway. Hermione looked up to see an elf standing there, watching her with widened eyes.
"Miss Hermione!" The elf exclaimed, before hurrying over to her. Hermione recognized her as Bitsy, the elf she had met yesterday. "Are you alright, miss?"
"Yeah," she croaked, "I'm fine. Just give me a moment."
She took several deep breaths, and meanwhile Bitsy continued to regard her with unblinking curiosity. Balancing against the stone wall, she slowly came to her feet, but the action caused them to buckle against the sudden rush of blood into her vessels, and she momentarily felt her vision darken.
However within a few seconds, it passed.
"You should not be here, Miss. The Manor is not safe at this time," Bitsy said weakly. It took her a moment to realize that there was a note of admonishment in her tone.
"I know. I just had some unfinished work inside the library."
"You are not supposed to be here, miss. There are dangerous things in this part of the house."
"Oh," Hermione said, not fully believing her, "I forgot my stuff in one of the rooms, I'm just trying to recall which the one I'd last been inside was."
"Bitsy will get it for you!" she blurted, "Bitsy promises she won't be long."
Hermione felt her spirits dampen slightly for no apparent reason, but she couldn't say no to the elf or she wouldn't hear the end of it.
"Alright, I'll wait here."
Bitsy gave her a cheerful smile, snapped her fingers and Disapparated with a resonating crack.
How peculiar. She hadn't even told her what she was looking for.
She imagined Draco Malfoy sleeping soundly in his regal seat, surrounded by pitch black darkness, then startling awake at the sound of Apparition. She imagined his surprise at seeing an elf rummaging through the stuff in the room and retrieving a pair of familiar looking gloves from the top of the table. Would he be able to put two and two together and realize that she was currently standing just a few feet away, hyperventilating and nearly bursting at the seams with unanswered questions?
True to her word, Bitsy appeared within a minute, with her ministry gloves clutched in both hands.
"Thank you," she said, when she handed them over to her.
"Miss looks very pale," Bitsy spoke, "Bitsy can arrange for food from the kitchens for you. I will set up a very nice dinner for the miss."
Hermione's eyebrows rose a bit at the suggestion.
Dinner alone in Malfoy Manor at nearly one in the morning? She could've never imagined that in a million years.
"Alright, I will have dinner on the condition that you join me in the Dining Hall," she said. "That doesn't just mean that you will serve me, you will actually join me for dinner."
Bitsy gulped audibly. Hermione could hardly understand why; she wasn't a remotely dangerous looking person (though, her hair did look especially frightful in the night) but she dismissed it owing to the fact that elves were decidedly strange creatures.
Bitsy led her slowly to the Dining Hall, silently lighting the Manor as they went, and it was in that moment Hermione truly felt invited.
She swallowed a spoonful of heavenly corn chowder, and her eyes nearly rolled back inside her sockets from the pleasure.
Living alone had its downsides - Hermione was no cook. She had to make do with Chinese takeway or instant recipes on the rare days that she wanted to eat something that had been prepared by her.
For twenty precious minutes, she only stuffed her face as delicately as she could, trying her best not to resemble Ronald as she did. All the while Bitsy stood silently beside her watching her eat.
"Come sit, Bitsy. Don't stand there like that. There's plenty of room," she said, indicating the eleven empty seats on either side of the huge dining table.
"Bitsy is fine, Miss."
"I insist," she said.
Bitsy remained silent and standing.
"I can't believe I have to do this, but I hereby command you to come and sit beside me. Don't make me feel like a jerk."
Bitsy smiled slightly and looked at her feet, "Bitsy needs to inform her kindness that she does not recognize Miss Hermione as her mistress. She is not obligated to obey her."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Well, fine. It's just that I wanted to talk to you, it's only fair to want somebody to be seated beside yourself."
"Bitsy is not offended."
"But you did give me something to think about," Hermione looked curiously at her, "Whom do you really recognize as you true masters though?"
"The house elves of the manor serve the ancient line of Malfoi. We belong to the Malfoy household."
"And you will continue to serve the Manor till you die, even when your masters are no longer alive?"
"Mistress Narcissa is alive."
Another surprise. "So you are aware of her whereabouts?"
"Yes, Miss Hermione."
"And that's why you're all still here?"
"We shall continue to serve until we have been willfully released by our masters."
That was horrible, but in a twisted way it did make sense. Abandoned or free house elves had a long way to go even in the modern magical society. Nobody wanted them and they had to spend their lives starving and ridden with unidentifiable diseases that came with being an elf.
"Do you know what happened to your masters, Bitsy? Do you have any idea how they died?"
"We were informed by the ministry on the day they left the world. Our masters had been cursed for their misdeeds. Some of the elves also served at the memorial service."
"Do you have any idea who cursed them?"
"Bitsy does not know."
"Were you there at the service?"
"Yes, Miss Hermione."
"And Narcissa? Was she there too?"
"Mistress Narcissa left the funeral only after a few minutes. She remained locked inside her room for days after."
"And how did she cope?"
Bitsy's eyes had begun to glisten slightly at the mention of Narcissa.
"Mistress was distraught. She did not speak. She never ate her meals on time. She neglected her roses. No one came to visit her, and she slowly became delirious."
It sounded awfully spooky coming from her mouth.
"And what happened then?"
"Someone from the Ministry come to the Manor. They inform our mistress that her house will be taken away from her and that she will be sent to St. Mungo's."
"And she agreed?"
"No, miss."
"So she told them to shove it?"
"Mistress did not reply for days, then she disappeared one night.. we could not find her anywhere, and ministry told us that she had admitted herself at the hospital."
"Did she, really?"
"Bitsy does not know."
"Wow."
Hermione reflected upon this information. She recalled the look of Narcissa Malfoy, albeit hazily. Long, proud face, delicate features, blond hair and a tall mien. The woman had been the perfect picture of a wealthy, pureblooded wife.
Had her emotional integrity been so heavily destroyed that she was forced to surrender herself to a mental ward of a hospital? Had her spine been so thawed by the ministry that she thought not once to ask Harry Potter for help?
And most importantly, was Narcissa Malfoy really mad?
Please tell me what you think!