She was here again, scurrying around the dinner table, avoiding my eyes, focusing on her shaking fingers as they grabbed the goblet of wine. With the mask across the bridge of her porcelain button nose and freshly pressed white linen dress I could not make out anything about her. Not even the shape of her body, only that she stood about half a foot shorter than myself. That's all.
She was a complete mystery to me, and I did not like that.
Not one bit.
Usually with our... Help. I could figure them out. Scrutinise them under my gaze and they'd crack, tell me anything. Though she doesn't, and has not spared me a single glance within the several weeks she's been living under our roof. Pitiful. Filthy mudblood. I should expect nothing less than that from her kind. Can't even be grateful enough to look at me, giving her shelter in our home.
It almost makes me want to trip her or bash her pretty little head into the concrete of our driveway. Teach her some respect.
With ill focus on the conversation at hand, I only begin to notice her footsteps as she walks, albeit quickly, around our large dark oak dining table.
She pours the rich red liquid into my fathers glass at the head of the table, keeping her eyes trained down, not daring to look into his roguish face. He sat there proudly.
His golden hair almost shining under the night of the chandeliers above. The many floating candles accompanying it. He has deeply set green eyes and stubble starting to grow on his chin. His face is an awkwardly squared shape, something my brothers took from him but not I. Fortunately.
I sigh and rest my elbow onto the table, and then my chin on the awaiting palm.
Our dining room alone would be fit for a king, full of lavish fruits, wines, bread, cheese, pastries, potatoes, meats and game. Along the outskirts of the bodacious hall were many other tablets, ornate dressers lining the floor to ceiling windows, and long curtains hanging beside them. Usually in other homes you'd have those for guests as well as this grand feast. But everything set before me were simply for the four of us. Like usual since I've been home. Almost as if he were compensating for my absence at hogwarts.
It had been several months, due to that, I had not been home. Unlike my youngest and eldest siblings. Either not at their eleventh year, or simply too old and have taken their time already.
Something I envied.
The school was full of snivelling idiots, like that Potter child. Fortune and fame found him wherever he so chose. In potions, in spells, the brat could even conjure a patronus. It was fucking ridiculous. Being around him and what the school called the 'golden duo', was too much on a good day. Harry and Ron. Inseparable since their first year. Always saving the day. You'd think they were gifts from God with how everyone acted around them. GIrls asking for autographs, men boasting about their achievements, it was foolish. Not to mention the coddling from our oh so great leader, Headmaster Dumbledore. 10 points to Gryffindor here, another ten points there. He could shit in his hands and by the Gods it would be another 10 points. It was endless, unjust and it drove me wild.
Stomaching the same air as them every term was almost too much.
But gladly I could breathe upon returning home for the summer.
We lived, frankly, in the middle of nowhere. My father had our home built before we were born, large enough for an army. I had my own private quarters and library, of my choosing of course. Cared for by the elves who knew better than to disrespect my belongings. The ones I felt I could trust, which was not many.
The same choice for my brothers, Evan. A spoiled rugrat and Fathers favourite. He was home far more often than I, tending to whatever work father had him do. God, he'd sleep at the foot of my fathers bed like a leashed dog if he allowed it. Bastard, He excelled during Hogwarts and makes no attempt to hide with whom his allegiance lied through the many years he spent there. Siding with Snape, and him. Ridiculous really, but voicing an opinion that strong amongst these people would surely end with my head rolling on the black and shiny tiled floor.
Aswell as Aster, the nine year old sat opposite me with bouncing blonde hair and blue eyes. Not yet reached the time for his letter, though I doubt he will be remarkable.
I force another mouthful of potatoes down and drop my fork to my plate. No longer hungry. My mother casts me a glance but says nothing.
Ever quiet my mother, something I do not wish upon anyone. Like a ghost traipsing about the halls. Never voicing her opinion, no matter how small, just nodding and appeasing my fathers outburst. Of course she had taken the full brunt of his rage during our formative years, our misgivings became her burden, something she was failing at; Being our mother.
I do not feel sad for her. Perhaps if she had been better, we all would be better off.
"I'm going to turn in for the night." I speak out into the silence of our dining hall. Forks stop moving for everyone other than him, Darius Nightshade, elegant and poised as ever, the head of the table. He swallows slowly, and takes a sip of wine before turning to the piece of parchment to his right. The inkwell floating in the air pauses almost reading his thoughts.
"Very well." His voice is strong, floating almost as it echoes across the table to my ears. I hold back a shudder at the dismissal and take my leave. As I stand that girl is there again immediately upon my rising, cleaning up after my plates and carrying them off to the kitchen.
She scurries along and I bid my mother goodnight and tuck my chair back in. With my fathers gaze elsewhere I give Evan an obscene gesture behind their back and leave the room. It leads into our entryway with the great staircase, to the left is the door to a stairwell leading to the servants quarters. It's slowly shutting behind her. I caught a glimpse of the cloth around her waist and had a sudden desire to follow.
Curiosity gets the better of me as I leave the room and decide to follow her.
She's much shorter than I, fluffy ash blonde hair tied up in a ponytail swishing with every step down. Her clothes are loose and footfalls are silent with the socks she's padding around in. No shoes? I suppose that's not unlikely. She goes through the many servants' doors at the bottom of the stairs and chooses the one directly to the large kitchen, which miraculously stays open for me also.
The many house elves pause their cleaning to stare at me as I step inside. My boots are loud on the tiled floor. I glare at each of them and they carry on. The audacity to look at me like I don't belong here.
It's my house.
She however goes to the sink and starts scrubbing as if not sensing my presence following her. Her hands delving into the murky water, the bubbles soaking into the sponge as she squeezes. I watch for a few seconds, entranced by the simple act, figuring out how best to get her attention.
"You." I decide on and no one moves, indecisive of who I may be addressing so crudely. So I clarify to not burst the blood vessels in any of their hearts from fright. It's rare a member of the house is seen down here, let alone speaking to them. "Girl, come here." My voice is harsh. I don't like being ignored.
She pauses and turns to face me, eyes to the damp floor. Everyone else continues on with their duties but I don't care about them anymore. Not when she's standing in front of me, slightly shivering.
"What's your name?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her odd behaviour.
We have had many servants in our house, mostly house elves, and only a young servant boy who now belongs to my brother. He remains in his own state home several hours away. I don't have it in me to feel bad for him. Knowing my brother he probably gets lashings, but if he learnt from his obvious mistakes he would not deserve them.
"M-My what?" She says quietly.
"Your name girl, what is it? I don't like repeating myself."
"It's Hermione.. Ma'am." I nod. Her voice is soft, meek, and she still won't look at me.
Curiouser and curiouser. I swear I've heard that name before, even her voice sounds familiar. I take a step closer and she shudders. I expect her to be screaming on the inside as I reach up to the mask sitting on her nose. I give it a quick tug but it doesn't budge. How odd. Magically bound. Perhaps father wanted that face all to himself when mother wasn't casting a watchful eye over him.
Very well.
I leave the kitchens and make my way through the manor without another word, making my way to my bedroom which was at the tower above the library by my own choice. I prefer staying out of the way. Not for any other reason than my family annoys me and I don't like idle conversations if I'm not gaining anything.
I repeat her name several times in my mind on the way up to my room. Mulling it over. Such a unique name, oddly human. Passing an abundance of servants. They nod in greeting or wish me a good night. I barely nod back or acknowledge them.
The stairs are long up and up and up, but I like the strain of it. I push open the door and immediately pull off my shirt, shoes and pants. Leaving them as a crumpled mess on the floor. It's been a long day, and with such a curious encounter I doubt I'll sleep well.
Who is she, and why does she seem so familiar but yet I can't place her? How peculiar. If only I could remove that mask. Or at the very least figure out the charm bestowed upon it and why.
Most importantly, I need to figure out why it's bothering me this much.
A/N : Recently I've been rewatching the Harry Potter movies and had this idea spinning in the back of my mind. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and I hope you'll learn to like my OC, who has so much more to be revealed. I apologise for any mistakes! Thank you for checking it out, this will be my first ever HP story! Reviews would be appreciated :)