Discalimer: If I had money, more than more, I would own them. Alas, I am poor. In other words: I lay no claim to any HP stuff. It's J.K.'s.
A/N: Major thanks to those who read and reviewed the last chapter. I know this chapter took longer than the others but I saw no reason to post at the same time the 7th book came out. I hope you enjoyed it! Again, please leave reviews. There were less in the last chapter and I really can't pretend not to be a tad dissapointed. I would love to see more. Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 5: Here Goes Nothing
Hermione moved over to her trunks and looked through them to find that everything seemed to be in order. All her school things, clothes, and personal effects she had carried with her were there. First, she put up the picture of her parents and her in second year on the inn table by the bed. She placed another magical photograph, of her and her two best friends smiling in at Hogwarts, on the desk. Taking off her outer robes and draping them over the chair, she performed a simple spell to transfer all of her clothes and books out of her trunk into the wardrobe and desk drawer. As she moved around the room that was to be hers, checking for dark magic, wards, and enchantments, her mind shifted into reflecting on the events of her day.
She had started out the day with a one-on-one lesson with Snape. Directly after that, she had moved on to participating in a yelling match with Ron, only to find she must rush and get ready for tea with Malfoy. During tea with her enemy, she signed an official acceptance of the engagement with his son and was practically forced to move into the manor. Her abrupt welcome to the manor was closely followed by a few direct insults and an argument with one of her least favorite people. Soon, she had to get ready for a huge party the Malfoy's had arranged where she would be celebrating an engagement she did want, to a man who hated her, with people she had faced in battle. All in all, it had been a rough day. Right then, she wanted nothing other than to curl up in bed and squeeze Crookshanks mercilessly.
At that moment, a disturbing thought occurred to her: where was Crookshanks?
She looked hopelessly around for his carrying basket or any trace of the wretched ginger fluff. Nothing. Desperately, she began to call for the kitty and dove to search under the bed. Finding no evidence he had ever been brought there at all, she began to panic. She flung open the door and raced out into the hall. No one was there. More than a little hesitant, she began calling for Draco and walked further up the corridor they had come down. He had disappeared several minutes ago. Which way had he gone? Perhaps it would be wise just to go back to the room and wait.
No. She needed her cat. She began to walk determinedly down one corridor, hoping she ran into Draco rather than Lucius or Narcissa, although, admittedly, it was very odd to find herself hoping to run into Draco Malfoy. She sincerely hoped it this freak occurrence would not repeat itself.
The halls did not continue in one direction, but rather branched off at regular intervals. She took a right at first, then everything began to look the same. There was consistently no answer to her calls and soon she had lost track of how many turns she had taken and where she had turned. It wasn't until her legs actually grew tired and her head began to spin that she sat down on the empty hallway floor in defeat, moaning miserably to herself: "I'm lost."
She then proceeded to talk to herself.
"How bloody pathetic is that? All I wanted was my stupid cat. Is that so much to ask? Now I am lost in the Malfoy Manor with my only remaining hope being, that before I can run across some dark wards and die, Draco will find me and use this to humiliate me for the rest of my life. What bloody life? I have no life. I'm about to become a bloody Malfoy! Mrs. Draco Malfoy. Hermione Malfoy. Bloody hell!" She hung her head in her hands.
"Talk to yourself often, do you?" Hermione's head shot up in shock. Standing before her was a house elf whose presence reassured her no more than Kreacher's would have. In addition to that, she was struck dumb by his uncanny resemblance to that infamous dwarf of muggle Disney fiction: grumpy.
"No," she answered once she regained something of her composure. He grunted in response and began to move on in the direction he had been heading.
"Wait! Wait, I'm, well, I'm a little turned around and I really need to be getting back to my room to get ready..."
He stared up at her and blinked.
"Couldn't you show me where my room is?" she clarified her request.
His look of questioning had changed drastically to one of great resentment. She couldn't begin to fathom how she could have possibly offended him so. She put a hand to her mouth and was about to stutter and apology when he leaned, on his tip toes, very close to her, and studied her intently with n expression that could be described in no other way than savage.
"Are you that -that mud-m-muggleborn Master Malfoy is engaged to?"
She nearly gulped before answering: "Yes." His eyes widened in surprise and his brow folded with pure anger. His little body was nearly shaking in fury. Saliva actually frothed in the corners of his mouth as he gritted his teeth. He looked more rabid than Malfoy had earlier. She pictured Harry's reaction to such outrage. She could almost hear him say, 'What's the big deal?'
She would have laughed at the mental picture, if she wasn't wondering if she should fear for her life. Just as she began to back away, there came a great clanging din from a corridor behind her and a soft, squeaky voice calling her name. Her name!
"Miss Granger? Miss Granger?"
"I'm over here!"she almost found herself smiling at the overwhelming sense of relief.
"What is Miss Granger talking to Dumpy for? Miss Granger is going to be late! So late. Come, come, Miss Granger. We must hurry!"
The other little elf was pulling and tugging urgently on her hand like an eager child wanting to get closer to the monkey's exhibit at the zoo. She, for Hermione assumed it was a she, was quite laterally bouncing up and down with energy and anxiousness. With one last glance at Dumpy, now calming glaring at her, she followed the running little elf up and down halls, left and rights, until she didn't know which way was north and which was south.
The young witch was struggling to keep up with the elf, huffing and puffing, running at full speed, her shoes trip-trapping along on the stone floor. She was so disoriented that, by the time they arrived at her door and bounded in, she didn't even recognize it at first. Hermione shut the door with snap behind her and stood there, heaving for breath, while the elf let out a series of terribly high-pitched squeaks and darted to and fro all round the room, grabbing things and organizing something in the middle of the floor.
Hermione stared at her curiously. With a million questions burning in her mind she finally asked: "Excuse me, who are you?"
The elf did not stop what she was doing, but slowed and quieted a considerable amount. Coming over, she politely bowed, and took Hermione's hand, leading her over to a stool in the center of the room and helping her onto it.
"Thank you." Hermione replied courteously. The little elf froze in mid movement and her jaw dropped. It wobbled around for a minute or so, struggling in vain to make words. She shook her head in disbelief, huge eyes glistening.
"What's wrong? You look like Dobby when you gape at my mere decency like that."
"Dobby?" the elf inquired. "You know Dobby?" she asked breathlessly.
"Oh yes. He used to work here, didn't he? Dobby is, well, he's a friend of mine. He's free now, and he works- for pay mind you- at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy."
"Does Dobby like it there?"
"Oh yes, very much I think."
"Does Dobby know Harry Potter?" the little thing asked in just more than a whisper.
"Yes. They get on really well. I'm friends with Harry as well." The elf turned away as if it were too much, covering her mouth with her worn hands, and, before Hermione could ask what was wrong, she burst into tears.
Hermione stood there, unsure of what to do. Perhaps trying to comfort her would only increase the floods. She waited a few moments and the elf blew her nose, wiped her face, and apologized hurriedly for the outburst and waste of time. Before, Hermione could get out a real response, she was being measured all over.
"What are you doing?"
"Measuring master's fiancee for her gown tonight, Miss. What color would Miss Granger like?"
"Um, well, I haven't really thought much about it."
"Would periwinkle and cream do, Miss?"
"That sounds lovely. What did you say your name was?"
"Sorry, Miss. I've been very rude in forgetting to tell you my name. Knobby."
"Knobby?"
"Yes, Miss. Knobby."
"And Knobby," Hermione cautiously began, as different color scarves were being wrapped around her and tossed about in a whirlwind of color. "How do you know Dobby?"
"We is not supposed to be talking about Dobby, Miss."
"I won't tell. Please. How do you know him?"
"Dobby is Knobby's brother."
"Oh my."
"Knooby will be back, Miss, soon with Miss's costume. Please, hurry and get ready."
"Where is a bathroom?"
"Right there." she pointed with a bony finger.
"Thanks," Hermione offered, immediately heading there. According to the clock on the wall, she had only a single hour before she must appear at the most formal event she'd ever attended. Her hands were trembling from stress as she turned on the tap in the cavernous bathroom.
The towels, bath curtains, and all were a soft pink and cream, and the room was entirely constructed for a lady. There was a massive tub, toilet, and a large sink, perfect for preparing for a night like this one. Had she had time, she would have relished the elegant bathroom, but, as it was, she barely had enough time to wash and be thankful she wasn't sleeping in the basement.
However fast she may have prepared, it certainly wasn't carelessly. She grabbed some moose from her bag, combing her hair with it and putting in curlers. After a quick drying spell, she released her locks from the curlers to place of spell upon them that, she hoped, kept them shiny and in place. For good measure, she doused it with muggle hair spray.
She used a nice salve she had made from a potion, hoping to keep her skin from getting oily or her make-up from smearing. She sprayed herself with body mist, as she didn't really carry perfume, and applied lotion as well until she was satisfied that she smelled like honeysuckle. After brushing her teeth vigorously, she re-entered the bedroom in her robe to find Knobby waiting patiently before a dressing shade. Hermione slipped behind it and allowed Knobby to dress her at top speed, as the elf seemed to do everything. Catching only a glance at her dress, she thought it a little odd, but nice enough. Who was she to question pure-blood traditional style? It was fairly plain with flowing layers of cotton-like fabric in several soft shades and it draped on her shoulders, almost like a toga. Odd indeed.
Plopping down in a chair at the dresser, Hermione proceeded to add the finishing touches with her make-up as Knobby insisted on braiding her hair intricately and pulling parts of it back. As Hermione applied a second coat of mascara, there was a sudden knock at the door.
"Yes?" she asked, startled yet again.
"Granger, it's time to go. Are you ready?" Draco's voice drawled from outside the door.
"Oh...er, just about. I'm coming!" she called. Knobby let out another panicked squeak and Hermione was assaulted with a giant puff ball covered in some glittery, dusty stuff. The elf placed something on top of Hermione's hair who had the sense to cast a quick sticking charm to it just before her wrist was grabbed and a piece of metal jewelry was thrust onto it. She slipped the shoes before her (silver looking sandal-like heels) on to her feet, and latched a necklace, a twin of the bracelet on her wrist, around her neck.
"Oh." Hermione said as she was pushed towards the door. She grabbed some magical lip gloss and applied a coat just as Draco's voice came sharply: "Come on! We're going to be late!"
"Coming!" she called "Thank you, Knobby," she began, but the elf cut her off with a fervent nod and a final shove towards the door.
"Wait!" Gasped Hermione. "I don't even know what I look like."
"Miss looks lovely, Miss." The door was swung open and she was pushed forth, stumbling out into the hall and right into Draco with a light Thump!
"Oh my," Hermione said, pulling herself upright. She allowed herself a moment to gawk. Draco was clad in silver sandals as well, and was wearing silvery toga-like robes with an under-lawyer of midnight blue. His crown, for that was what had also been placed on her head, matched hers and her jewelry. It looked like a branch of Olive leaves, similar to those the champions at the Greek games, woven in silver. His was larger, of course. He also had a sword sheathed at his side, a thick leather belt with silver badges of honor on them, and protective leather wrist band.
His blonde hair fell freely and his arms were totally exposed. He smelled like laurel. The expression on his face, however, was far from this. He looked disgusted.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, worried about her own haphazard appearance.
"You're on me!" he snapped, placing her upright on her feet.
"Oh. Sorry," she blinked several times and looked down.
"It's a fancy dress party," he explained unnecessarily.
"Yes, and we must be Greeks."
"Odysseus and Penelope to be exact." She nodded. He extended his arm with a sigh and she took it, lifting her head only to face their direction.
"You won't embarrass me Granger, will you?"
"Not on your life."
"Good. Well, here goes nothing."
A/N: Well, please tell me: How do you like my littlest new characters? What do you think of my choice of costumes? Up for a fancy dress party anyone? The next chapter is going to be longest yet! Around 3,400 words instead of 2,400. Please leave a review!