Upon the High Reeve's take-off, Missy showed Hermione to her room which in fact was at least three rooms in one, because it had not only a bathroom, but also an adjoined living room and library, albeit smaller than the main ones in the house. The dominating colors were reddish and gold, the textures – wood and iron, the walls were adorned with vintage floral tapestries, and the bed with the canopy was triple the size of the one at Hogwarts. The fire cracked in the hearth, illuminating the room's darkened corners and warming the place up. Hermione entered and looked around in awe – the whole manor was big, and dark, and cold, but this room seemed like a small haven of warmth.
She expected something else – not a jail cell, not a windowless cupboard in the dungeon, but not anything like that too. It was unusually vast, but it represented none of what she was used to seeing in her nightmares, so that was good.
Mipsy asked if she wanted anything to eat or to drink, if she wished to explore the bigger library or check out the depths of the dungeons underneath them, but Hermione refused it all, unused to being served by house elves and choosing instead to unpack. The wardrobe and the chest of drawers were both empty, so that's where she put her clothes. She filled only a third of the wardrobe and a single drawer with them – she didn't have a lot of clothes, and she didn't need that much space.
She went to the small library, already half-full of books she promised to check out later, but there the space was not enough – she filled all the shelves, and still, at least two-thirds of what she brought with her had to be stuffed in the corners of her bedroom and on the floor.
She filled the shelves in the bathroom with products for her hair because magic spells couldn't help teasing that beast. She saw a sage-colored bathtub in there and tried to remember when was the last time she took a bath – probably that same summer when she Obliviated her parents. She wanted so badly to take the bath now, to sink into the hot water filled with bubbles and aromatic oils, to wash off all the dirt, the tears, the sweat, the pain of the past few years, she wanted to feel her constantly tensed muscles relax but she resisted that temptation – she couldn't relax, not even a little bit, not at the Malfoy Manor, not where the High Reeve lived, not when he could invade her space any time he wished to.
When she unpacked, she sat on the bed, trying out the mattress, and looked around the bedroom once more, taking it in together with her belongings. Just then, Mipsy popped back on and Hermione had a feeling she had been there the whole time. She wore quite a nice little dress with a bow tie on her head, and Hermione realized she had never seen a house elf dressed so well. The elf's eyes were kind and her smile seemed heartfelt.
"Are you sure you're not hungry, Missis?" the elf asked.
Hermione hadn't even had breakfast but the knot in her stomach would stop her from absorbing anything anyway. "No, thank you, really…" she answered politely. "It's just… Your master hasn't told me what I should be doing exactly, so now I don't know what… to do."
Mipsy smiled at her, "Oh, for now, you don't need to bother yourself with anything, Missis. Master told me to make sure you're comfortable here." She said the High Reeve's name not in a way Hermione was used to hearing; from Mipsy's lips, it sounded more like Master Dragon. "Is everything to your liking?"
Hermione looked around. "Everything's perfectly in order, Mipsy. Thank you."
The elf bowed slightly. "You don't need to thank me. It is my pleasure to serve you, the Lady of the Manor…"
Hermione's eyes widened when she heard that last bit. "Oh, no, please, I'm not—"
"But if you're quite sure there isn't anything I could help you with, then I shall bother you no longer," Mipsy finished and disappeared with another loud pop.
Hermione stared at where the elf was just a second ago, those words still echoing in her ears. The Lady of the Manor… She was certain that's what Narcissa Malfoy was called. And now, when she signed the papers, she became Lady Malfoy. Of course, she was glad the High Reeve didn't hear Mipsy say that, perhaps it was solely instinct that forced her tongue, and even so, she had no idea how he would react if Hermione was addressed the way his mother used to be…
And that made her understand she knew nothing about the Malfoy family. There was nothing left of them, only the High Reeve, but Hermione remembered when before the war they were a prejudiced but also a powerful, regal, magnificent pureblood wizard family. She never liked the oldest Malfoy, Lucius – she found him irritably prideful and cocky, and she never got to meet Narcissa, she only heard Harry talk of her – at first she seemed just like her husband, but after she saved Harry's life, Hermione couldn't help but feel respect for the witch. Not anyone could stand against Lord Voldemort, even weaker men have turned to cowards before him, but Narcissa did all that for her son…
Hermione wished to know what happened to her. She knew that both of the older Malfoys were dead now, and she remembered that Lucius died not even a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, Narcissa following after him a few months later. She knew the fact, but she wanted to know how it happened. Did she die in an accident or from a disease? Was it Voldemort who killed her? Or was it—
A sound of scratching and familiar meowing stopped her train of thought. Hermione opened the door and let Crookshanks in. The cat meowed more as it went inside, greeting her.
"There you are," Hermione whispered, even though she was all alone. Maybe she was scared that the walls had ears and all she said was being listened to. "This is not home, Crookshanks, you cannot wander off whenever you feel like it!" she said, taking him in her arms and brushing the fur with her fingers. "Where have you been to?" she asked when she saw that the tip of his nose was purple. It seemed something like dye. Hermione took a towel and tried to wipe it off, managing to take off only some of it.
She sighed deeply and let the cat go, making sure the doors were closed. She told herself she wouldn't let him go anywhere until she was sure the rest of the manor was safe for animals (humans, too). Even though the High Reeve did not say anything about Crookshanks, Hermione didn't want to risk it – she had no idea how the High Reeve would react if he saw the cat roaming freely around the house as if he owned the place, and she didn't want to find out the bad way.
She was almost sure that if she wanted to go out of the room and explore the manor a bit more, she would be free to do so – that's practically what he said – but she was still a bit scared to go out, even if the room seemed to suffocate her a bit. So she went to check out the books that weren't hers while Crookshanks cuddled around her legs, purring. Most of the books were about potions and poisons – how to make potions to save a life, how to make poisons to kill, how to tell apart one from the other, how to make them tasteless, et cetera, et cetera. She had just taken a book about the most uncommon plants in poison making, knowing this would interest Neville quite a lot when she heard that loud pop, and now knew what to expect.
Mipsy appeared in front of her. "It's dinner time, Missis. Will you join?"
Hermione felt a bit caught off guard. She didn't know whom and where she should join, but still said, "Oh, yes… Sure…"
Mipsy gestured to follow, and Hermione did so. They went back the corridors and down the stairs, through the lobby, to the dining room with a long table fit to sit a whole army. It was so vast Hermione's footsteps echoed through. The table was empty, but all Mipsy had to do was snap her fingers, and the end of the table was filled of plates with food. But Hermione didn't sit just then, instead, she looked around at the art on the walls – the pictures of older Malfoy generations commemorated to watch their children and grandchildren and grand grandchildren eat.
Turning back, she flinched instinctively when she saw the High Reeve, sitting at the very end of the table where the seat was empty just a moment ago. He didn't even look at her, didn't even react to her flinching – perhaps he was used to people reacting this way upon seeing him, or maybe he simply did not care. Hermione sat down, watched him fill his plate, then did the same. Mipsy was gone, and neither of the two of them was much of a conversationalist.
They ate in deadly silence. More precisely, she ate, even with that knot of nerves in her stomach, while he nibbled at his food, taking only a bite or two. Hermione reckoned that being a merciless murderer might make the appetite for food disappear. He only drank from his goblet that kept refilling itself once he finished it, as if that was enough of sustenance for a man of such stature.
Hermione cleared her throat, and the sound echoed through the room, in between them. "I would still… I would still like to know exactly what I am supposed to do while I'm here."
The High Reeve, as expected, didn't look up and took a long moment to respond. "Now that you mention it, Granger, I do have something for you to do." With that, he lifted his gaze, and his gray eyes – one as dark as the sky during a storm and another as pale as steel – pierced right through her. Hermione fidgeted in her seat uncomfortably. "I need you to write down every single person that is in the Order for me."
Hermione stared at him for a while, unsure if this was a joke or a cruel truth. It didn't seem from his eyes that he was mocking her, but that grotesque scar made the corner of his lips quirk eerily, so she couldn't be certain.
"Why would you need that?" she asked finally.
His expression did not waver. "So that I know whom to kill if things go south."
Again, no way to know if this was an actual request or not.
"I was not told I would have to do something like that."
His sliced eyebrow rose slightly. "May I ask what you were told you'd be doing here?"
I had an impression that I'd have to be here for your entertainment, to keep your sadistic tendencies off the Order's back, and to help them control you.
"I wasn't given precise instructions," she said.
"Then I'll give you some – you're here to do what I tell you. Right now, I'm telling you to write me that sodding list." When Hermione didn't say anything, he added, "If you won't do it, I'll find someone who will."
Hermione quickly thought over her possibilities. She was here to help the Order, not to compromise it. On the other hand, Snape and Moody seemed to trust the High Reeve enough to give her away, so maybe, if they held on to his word, so would he?
"Fine," she said. She wanted to add, But only if you swear not to use it unprovoked, but thought better of it, and decided that such a demand could make him even less compliant. "When do you want it?"
The look he gave her closely resembled a snarl, "Whenever you're willing to give it to me, Granger."