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ChApTeR 4: NoT a HoUsE eLf

"She seems happier, do you think..."

"No, he's far too dense... Maybe she got a pet?"

"Don't be daft, have you seen any animals around other than her beloved cat?" the conspiratorial whispers began in the corner of the kitchen. It was the week of Christmas and everyone was over for dinner. Ginny and George were covering their conversation by taking an awfully long time pouring out drinks.

"Let's call Ron and ask, shall we?" Ginny murmured over the clinking of their glasses.

"Fine, let's have a bet!" George said enthusiastically.

Ginny snorted, "No. Bets with you are simply awful. Plus I already have a winning bet going on."

Pouting, George turned around to call Ron, "Ronnie, love! We have an urgent need for you in the kitchen."

Scowling, Ron left the bustling table and warm chatter of family and friends to join Ginny and George.

"Yeah? What is it?" he asked.

"Have you by any chance offered your hand in a lovely-"

"-Did you propose to Hermione?" Ginny cut into George's monologue.

Ron gaped at them, obviously startled. "I.. I wha- Bloody Hell, no! Why- what-"

Ginny pouted at George through Ron's spluttering, "Ah, too bad you were right this time. Maybe that's why she seems happier?"

George nodded thoughtfully, "Yeah, I mean, there's no way someone as brilliant as her would want someone so thickheaded as our brother..."

"Wait, where did this come from?" Ron managed to get out.

Ginny and George glanced at each other before sighing and simultaneously patting Ron's back and walking to the tables with warm cider.

Draco pored over a random set of letters, wondering when would be a good time to invite her to live with him. Maybe telling her who he was would be a good idea too, but... he valued his life quite a bit. And sanity, having Granger yell at him would not help him whatever.

Granger:

My, a hippogriff or mentally deranged wizard? Sorry, love, neither. But I think that you do enjoy talking to moi, otherwise why else would be still be talking? Anyhow, isn't obvious that I have more brain power than Mr. I-Have-A-Really-Giggly-Stylist-On- My-Arm-And-I-Enjoy-Giving-Public-Shows-of-Attention? Right. So glad you keep that much faith in me! I'm hurt, seriously! You sound really grumpy. Do you wake up late? Ugh, how awful, you miss the beauty of the peace and early morning traffic! Have you found a new place to work yet? Staying with "Ronald" must be quite dull, I expect he's hardly ever home~ have you seen the tabloid covers recently?

-X

X:

Well, yes, now that you ask, I have seen the tabloid covers of 'Ronald' absolutely drunk, very sloppy, and hanging off his new, and apparently famous, stylist. Let's not go into details, ok? And scratch that, you're not deranged or a hippogriff, you sound like an awfully fluffy panda living in the midst of giant bamboo trees that consistantly knock the brain cells out of your measly skull. Maybe that's what I meant to say... No, I simply do not appreciate being woken up by a rather fluffy owl pecking my ear out and jumping on my pillow like some malfunctioning alarm clock with the voice of a cat singing out of a broken sprinkler. I'm debating on whether to take up the offer for Misty Mermaids or the Blackbeard Pirates. Both have awful names, but no matter, they are quite popular and good at that.

-Hermione Granger

It had been a week since the letters started and Hermione had found that it had been the fastest week ever. Instead of becoming a fountain of rage and angst, she was cheerful and absentminded all week. With the daily prophet becoming a gossip section more than news, it was hard not to be aware that Ron had found an interest in his new stylist, Myra Lyrstin. (A/N: Sorry to those named Myra )

She had found herself so distracted and immersed in finding the source of and responding to the letters that Ron seemed like an insignificant blot in the back of her mind. She was in her own little detective world for now (detective for she needed to know who was writing). When she met people, a rather spacey smile graced her face and she excused herself at the very sight of the elegant grey owl she had nicknamed Athene.

Now she sat by her open window. The winter air was crisp, fresh, and the snow was falling without a sound, onto the roofs and the green firs. Hermione could see her own breath in little puffs. She reached out, thoughtfully, and a snowflake drifted into her hand. It was starting to bother her that the person with whom she was always talking to was still a mystery to her... Come to think of it, he seemed to know a lot more about her than she knew him (that creepy stalker).

Yet there was no apparent way to get to know him more... Any questions she asked, he avoided slyly by introducing a new topic, or something of that sort... Well, there was one way, but that was...

Hermione shook her head at the thought. Moving into his place... someone she barely knew... no... But then again, he didn't seem to be bad or anything...
Sighing, she started to close the window.

With a sudden chirp and some clawing, Athene slipped into the room.

"You're here!" Hermione said, fondly brushing off the snow from the owl's feathers. As the bird hooted in reply, she untied a note from its leg.

H. Granger:

To tell you one thing about my self, quidditch is simply not under my interests, although I have played during younger years. There are far more important things that concern me. However, I think of my knowledge highly enough to guarantee that whichever team you choose (and yes, the team names sound daft) will be better than the carrothead's.

As for your complaint of the "fluffy owl," have you thought that it might be your own fault for not waking up early enough? Besides, it must not bother you so much; you always reply within a day.

Now, I think I might move on, and ask you once more: Would you like to move into my house? It is quite a large one, with many rooms you may choose from. And if it may interest you more, there is a library consisting of several thousands of books, all of which you are welcome to reading, if you should rent a room. I must also inform you that the price is very, very inexpensive. I do understand that working for some sucky team that never won wouldn't provide you with a lot of money. How does 15 galleons a month sound?

And, moving on to persuading you, no place would be worse than the Burrow. Seriously speaking, doesn't it bother you to see your ex-thought-to-be-boyfriend? And to see his parents? And to be living under the same roof as them, eating at the same table with them? As you may have figured out, I'm not really all that dangerous, either, except if you should try to attack me first. Even then, I'm not sure whether my various hexes and curses should succeeding in killing you. Food is free, so no worries about that. Additionally, it's not like you can't move out. So if you're displeased in anyway, you may apparate out on the spot.

-X

Hermione stared at the parchment in her hand. Thoughtfully, she brought out a quill and a piece of parchment, and started to write.

Draco awoke from his thoughts to the sound of his owl pecking at the window. Well, she had replied, yet again, he thought as he got up to let the owl in. Quickly he undid the tied note from the creature and brought it to its cage to rest. As he made himself to his desk, he unrolled the parchment and started to read.

X:

Once again, I must ask you to give me your name or a better title I can address you with, because "X" just isn't working.

But anyway, moving on, I have to correct you and say that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are like second parents to me. They are some of the most kindest people I know, and I'll miss them terribly when I move out of here. It simply does not bother me to eat with them or to live with them, save their revolting son. I don't understand how such a son was born! It would not be the least bit shocking if I were to hear that he was actually adopted. I really don't appreciate that you should talking about them in such a manner.

Oh, and where do you live? I like rooms with sunshine.

-Hermione Granger

Okay, so what was this? She was somewhat interested, because she did ask about his address. But that was another problem. How could he tell her where to come without revealing that he was living at Malfoy Manor? Well, he could send a house elf to the Burrow to "escort" her here. They could apparate together, directly into the house, perhaps into the library, since there probably weren't too many good memories from other parts of the house. Yes, that would work, that would...

"Tickly!" Draco called.

In a flash, a house elf entered the room and bowed. "Yes, Master?"

"Tickly, I need you to clean out some rooms, ones on the second and third floors that lets in the most sunshine. Someone will be moving in there, a girl, so decorate them, too."

"Yes, Master." With another deep bow, Tickly the house elf was gone.

Hermione looked at the letter in her hand. Okay, here went nothing. She might as well try out this mysterious person's house.

Granger:

Alright, since it bothers you so much, you may call me Mr. X.

Okay, it's rather difficult to describe to you exactly where my house is. So I shall have a house elf go to the Burrow in two days, around noon, and escort you to the house directly, where you will be able to view the rooms and choose from them. I assure you, you will not be the least bit disappointed.

-Mr. X

But one thing bothered her. The house elf. The house elf!

Draco chuckled at the note he had just received. It was so...so...Hermione.

Wierdo person I refuse to call X or Mr. X:

I've decided that I might as well try out this mysterious house yours. I must be going crazy, but oh well. Just one thing. You make sure that whoever escorts me is NOT a house elf. NOT A HOUSE ELF.

I shall see you in two days' time, the day after Christmas.

-Hermione Granger

Well, well. How could he forget? What had it been called? Stick? No, Spit? Oh, it was Spew! S.P.E.W. Well, that was just well. He could pick her up himself. But she might faint. Then he would be accused of assault. Butler or maid would be suspicious. Maybe a location near the manor and he could send out Pansy to collect her. He sighed in relief, Pansy it was.

Christmas eve, Hermione was bouncing a bit on the couch as she, in her slightly tipsy state, told Ginny, who was home for Christmas vacation, she would soon be moving out of the Burrow.

"He's an arrogant git, but it's so much fun to write to someone with brains even if I don't know them."

"Ooooh, how nice! Harry and I are exchanging letter too! I know I really shouldn't write during class but his reactions to Pig hurtling through the window are priceless! I ask the students to tell me how he reacts every time," Ginny cooed.

"Yeah... But... But I'll miss the Burrow," Hermione said softly.

Ginny threw an arm around her, "No worries, you'll have a fun life! Think about it, you're no longer stuck to that idiot I call a brother! Now you'll even have a good team to represent. But, do be careful, who knows, your new... forbidden lover, as you said he put it, could be some creeper..."

Chuckling, they clinked glasses and turned to converse with the rest of the family.

A bit later she was talking with Harry; he wasn't sure on how to react about Ron.

"Er, I'm sorry about the way things worked out," he muttered awkwardly while glaring at Ron and Myra who were across the room laughing about something or the other.

She really was quite pretty. And smart, Hermione had to admit, she knew what she was talking about. She watched a bit forlornly as Ron tucked a bit of her long black hair behind a pale ear which promptly turned pink with a slight blush.

She closed her eyes and thought of her mysterious correspondent. Hopefully, in two days she would be out of there, out of the range of Ron's dreamy eyes staring into space thinking about the girl next to him.

Hermione decided that now would be an opportune moment to speak of her departure,
standing up on a convenient chair, she coughed for attention.

"Everyone, Harry, Ron, Ginny (but you already know), Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, George, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fleur... Ronald's new stylist...(at this everyone gave a funny look at Myra who was sitting next to Ron) I wanted to tell you that I have left my job as PR rep for the Chudley Cannons. I'm joining the Misty Mermaids. I'm also moving out," she said dramatically.

There was complete silence for a moment. And then all of Hell broke loose, leaving a very smug Hermione at the pandemonium she had caused, somehow the idea of doing the unexpected left her satisfied.

Hermione was nervously waiting for her "escort" to come. She was already packed, all of her clothes neatly folded and put into suitcases with a simple spell. Three additional suitcases had her valuables, books, parchment, and quills.

There was a knock on her door.

"Come in," Hermione said, and Mrs. Weasley walked into the room.

She looked around sadly. "All packed?"

Hermione nodded. "My escort is due to come."

"I see..."

Hermione looked into her face. "But I'll miss you and Mr. Weasley."

Mrs. Weasley smiled. "We'll miss you, too. Come visit. You're always welcome here."

"I will," Hermione said.

Crack! Someone apparated into the room.

"Oooh, is this some kind of tearful farewell?"

"Who...Wait, Pansy?" Hermione asked, bewildered. "What are you doing here?"

"Well excuse me, but I am your escort, Granger." Pansy threw a dry smile.

"My...escort? You? Oh... I see. So let me ask this one question. Who is this mysterious person whose home I am going to live in?"

"Ooooh, sorry. Dra-I mean, he said to keep it a secret. Now enough with all of this blabbering. Grab your stuff and let's go!"

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Leaving already? Won't you stay for some tea before going?" she asked.

Pansy turned her attention to her. "Sorry, Mrs. Weasley, but we're on a slightly busy schedule. You'll have to excuse us," she said politely.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. Her house was going to be even emptier now... Only her youngest son Ron would stay here... and more than half the time he was out with some girl with the rather pathetic excuse that he was practicing.

"Bye, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione, embracing her in a hug.

"Alright, let's go." With another large crack! they were gone.