"Never!" Smack!
"Ow, what the-" Smack! Smack!
"Thought that was funny, did you?"
Smack!
"No, I was just…"
"Was I that entertaining?!" Smack!
"No, you were hilarious! My ears-ow! CUT IT OUT!"
...For the first several minutes after they landed, Hermione, unused to such methods of travel, wobbled around like a drunk sailor fresh off the high seas. Malfoy, bearing witness to her graceless spins and twirls, lasted about five seconds before collapsing on the ground from laughter. Tears of unadulterated joy ran from his eyes, leaving him completely unprepared to fend off her inevitable onslaught. After all, someone had to pay for her moments of terror; and, oh look, how convenient: one unrepentant defenseless git within arm's reach. So she smacked him. And again. And again. And…
"Enough! Merlin, Granger, if this is how you show your gratitude-"
"Serves you right," she replied with some deep seated satisfaction and then gave a quick appraisal to her surroundings.
They had landed on a wide expanse of lawn, ringed with manicured bushes and shrubs. A winding gravel path led to a raised patio where a pair of high french doors stood, illuminated by a set of lanterns. The building itself - the part that she could see, at least - was exquisite, an architectural masterpiece. The Manor, he'd called it - and that was an appropriate name, for this was as much a house as a peregrine falcon is a chicken. Off to her left, there was what looked like an orchard, and smells of apple and cranberry floated over, carried by a light breeze.
Malfoy regained his footing, dusting off his ruffled clothes in the process. He glared at her, and she smiled back with a challenge.
"You're crazy sometimes, Granger, you know that? Always were."
"Less talking, Malfoy, more moving!" She was feeling nervous again, but was too tired for any critical introspection to understand why. Her muscles ached from the flight, adrenaline waned. She was empty and spent. This had been the most emotionally taxing day in months, and the bill was coming due.
The doors opened as they approached, and she found herself in a dimly lit foyer. The corners of the room were lost in shadows, but she could discern several portraits on the walls that all depicted snoozing men or women. A rather curious decorating decision, she thought. A grand staircase with gilded banisters led to the second floor.
Malfoy propped his broom against a wall, and turned to his guest.
"I'll contact Potter right away, and he'll take you to St. Mungo's when he comes," he said. "In the meantime, you can use one of the guest rooms upstairs to freshen up, if you like. Or maybe you're hungry? I can get one of the elves to prepare something."
Elves. Of course, there were elves. And who knew what else he had stashed away here. Magic lamps? A dragon? Santa Claus?
"No, I'll just take a room, if you don't mind."
"Of course. Linny!" He clapped his hands once.
Linny? Her confusion were short-lived, however, as a squat little creature, its hair tied up in frilly pink bows, appeared right in front of her. Hermione jumped, startled, raising a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her host watching her with devious glee. No doubt, he'd done this on purpose, unabashedly using her as a source of perpetual amusement. Prat.
"Linny, escort Ms. Granger to one of the guest rooms. Once she's ready, show her to my study, we'll wait there."
"Of course, Master." The elf's voice was high, almost a squeak. "Linny is so pleased to see a guest, and, oh, such a pretty one too. It's been too long since Master-"
"Linny!" Malfoy interrupted. "Your duties, if you will."
"As you say, Master Draco. Right this way, miss, follow Linny. Linny is good elf, and so pleased to serve. Just call out 'Linny!', and I'll be right at your side. Yes, yes, I will."
The elf began to ascend the staircase, comically hopping from one step to the next on her stubby legs. Hermione wordlessly followed her, still a little shocked at the turn of events, but stopped midway.
"Draco," she called out, and he turned to her, surprise evident in the raised brows. "Thank you. For everything."
"It's nothing… Hermione," he replied after a momentary pause. "As I've said: I'm in your debt. This was an opportune way to balance things out, that's all." Obviously considering the conversation at an end, he nodded to her once and then disappeared down a dark hallway.
She frowned, unsatisfied with his abrupt explanation. His actions over the course of the evening spoke to more than just a debt being repaid: he had been both comforting and supportive without any apparent reason to. He was a decent person at heart, and there was no reason to conceal this fact. Men can be so silly sometimes, she mused.
"Miss? Come." The elf tugged on her elbow, beckoning for her to follow.
After reaching the top of the staircase, Hermione found herself traversing a shadowed corridor with rooms on either side. Unable to stem her curiosity, she peeked into several along the way, noting that they all shared a rather peculiar similarity. Regardless of their nature, each room was only partly-furnished, as gaping holes replaced various pieces of furniture. One bedroom, for example, held no bed or vanity, which led her to wonder whether a bedroom without a bed could be considered a bedroom any longer. A cozy sitting room nearby boasted two bookless bookshelves and a wine cabinet without a trace of liquor.
Confused, she turned to Linny and asked her the reason behind such inconsistent furnishing.
"Bad, bad men!" the elf cried out with a fervor. "Greedy men, they come and steal and plunder. Linny tells them 'no'! You mustn't! But do they listen to a house-elf? No! Bad Linny!"
The elf suddenly bashed her head against a wall.
"Bad Linny! Bad Linny!" To Hermione's growing horror, Linny began to accompany each phrase with the dull thud of her forehead smashing the wall.
"No! Stop! Please!" Hermione rushed over to the masochistic little creature, and held her down, preventing any additional damage.
"Sorry, miss. Linny so sorry," the elf sobbed. "I didn't mean for miss to see. Bad Linny!"
The elf made a motion to slap herself in the face, which Hermione quickly intercepted.
"It's alright, it's alright…" she attempted to comfort the elf with a soothing mumbling lull.
"You is good miss." Linny sniffed and looked at her with tear-streaked eyes. "You is with Master Draco now, yes?" she added hopefully.
"What?.." Flummoxed a bit at the sudden change in conversation, Hermione felt a sudden warmth in her cheeks.
"No, Linny, Draco is just helping me with a problem," she answered cautiously, afraid of setting the elf off on another self-mutilating frenzy. Her worries proved fruitless however, as Linny seemed appeased by the explanation.
"Yes, yes," she eagerly bobbed her head in agreement. "Master is very kind! But now, Linny must show you your room! Come, come!"
The elf hopped up, wiping her nose with a crinkled maroon handkerchief that magically (Hermione cringed at such a banal pun) appeared in her hand, and walked to a set of doors, opening them and inviting Hermione in.
"The Rose Suite, miss," she said with a bow. "Remember, call Linny if you needs anything!" The last words were almost lost in a small 'pop', as the elf whirled around and vanished into thin air.
Hermione, exasperated at the elf's behavior, which created more questions than answers, wandered into what looked like a boudoir. The bedroom lay ahead: an opulent yet comfortable arrangement with a four-poster bed, a fully stocked vanity, and a floor-to-ceiling mirror. From within its depths, her reflection gazed back at her despondently, her hair a labyrinthine mess of twists and tangles and blotchy circles around her eyes.
"I won't comment on the hair, but a little make-up could go a long way, dear. We look positively dreadful," her image huffed, hands on hips.
Hermione wasn't even surprised. A talking mirror was hardly shocking after all the night's events. It wasn't wrong either, but most mornings Hermione simply lacked the conviction to pretty herself. There had been no point.
"Why don't you go clean up a bit? There's a bath right over there. You know it would do us good."
Irritated that a magic mirror was giving her advice on personal hygiene, Hermione glared in response, but her reflection just grinned and stuck her tongue out.
Very mature.
Nevertheless, the idea of a long, hot shower was much too appealing to overcome.
The bathroom itself, tiled in beige and earthy brown, was a welcoming sight. A jade-and-silver bathrobe hung on one of several wall-mounted hooks, while a variety of lotions, salts, scrubs, and other beauty paraphernalia dotted the countertop next to the sink. Experimentally uncapping one bottle, Hermione was pleased with a marigold aroma. It would do nicely, she thought, stripping off her clothes and stepping into the shower, which had instantly turned to the perfect temperature.
A girl could live with this.
Rotating beneath the cascading waters, she shivered as tension seeped out of her shoulders. What a day…
Almost an hour later, she stepped out, refreshed, with a healthy, radiant glow. Tip-toeing across the tiles, she grabbed the bathrobe and cuddled into its soft folds, a content and open smile spreading across her face. Finally, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she felt like the world was turning right again, that she had a fighting chance. She really needed to find a way to properly thank Draco for all of this… Draco!
He was waiting for her all this time, she remembered sheepishly. He must think her so rude! She'd lost track of time in the shower, and now… what time was it? It had been almost midnight when they left her flat, and that was several hours ago!
And-oh! She didn't even have anything to wear! The idea of soiling her body with the day-old clothes was simply revolting. How could she have been so unprepared?!
Accompanied by clouds of steam, she wandered out and sat on the bed, overwhelmed by the unexpected problems.
It was a really nice bed, she noted instantly, and couldn't resist the impulse to raise her feet and stretch out. It was soft, so soft. It would be so easy to fall asleep in its silky embrace. She wouldn't, of course, because Draco was waiting for her. He really wasn't that bad anymore. The prejudiced boy from school had grown up, it seemed. She frowned, trying to hold onto that unbidden thought, but it flitted away, chased away by waves of crashing fatigue. It had really been a long day. She'd just lay her head down for a moment and rest her aching eyes. Just for a little bit, not long at all. In a minute, she would rise and go down and apologize to Draco for making him wait. Yes, in exactly one minute. Maybe two. Two wasn't so bad. Not bad at all…