IX
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Hermione felt her feet hit solid ground again and bit down the nausea that always bubbled up after traveling by portkey. Opening her eyes, she saw that she'd landed in what appeared to be a drawing room, with several sitting areas and coffee tables scattered throughout the space. Delilah was perusing a bookshelf in the corner, turning when she heard Hermione's entrance.
"Have a quick snog before following me, did you?"
The Muggle-Born glared. "Of course not. How can you be so crass?"
"Oh please, Granger, it's not like there's anyone around to hear."
Ignoring her, Hermione called for an elf. Instead of one, five of them appeared, all of them bowing low.
"We elves of Malfoy are so pleased to be meeting you. We are Maisy, Archie, Dex, Tetten, and Dune," one of them remarked, motioning to the other four as she spoke. "May we ask who we is having the pleasure of waiting on?"
"I am the young Master Malfoy's betrothed, Hermione Granger," Hermione replied. There was a quiet gasp from the little creatures, and they all bowed yet again, even lower than they had previously.
"We is so honoured to be making the acquaintance of Mistress Granger at last! Whatever may we do to serve you?"
"We shall need two rooms made up as quickly as possible, and will also need one or two of you to retrieve a few days worth of clothing from the Grand Manor for myself and Miss Burke."
The one called Maisy, who appeared to be the head elf, nodded. "Dune and Tetten will be getting your things; Archie and me will be freshening up your chambers. They is being done in just a few minutes!"
The five elves popped away, and Hermione frutsratedly noticed that her supposed "companion" had disappeared as well. Deciding she didn't particularly care what Delilah got up to, she made her way from the sitting room and began to explore the house, peeking into the various rooms and down long halls.
She felt a shift in the wards as she entered a more secluded wing of the manor, a sensation similar to the one she'd felt when she'd entered the Malfoy's ballroom, and quickly realized she'd found the family's private wing. For a second she debated turning around, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the nearest door.
Hermione stared around the room at the pedestals and artifacts resting on them. The air was positively thick with the dark magic they gave off, and of course, who should be making her way around the room but Miss Burke.
"How did you get in here? You need a Malfoy's Blessing to enter this part of the house," Hermione chided. Delilah smirked.
"You think I'm only meant to be your companion? I assure you, Granger, I've been promised a handsome reward for agreeing to be your guardian when your intended cannot. Therefore, through the Guardian Vow, any magical bestowals granted to you will also shift to me, so that I may protect you no matter where you are."
The Muggle-Born witch made to leave, but felt oddly apprehensive about leaving the other girl alone with such valuable relics, even knowing they had to be highly protected. Stepping fully into the room, Hermione began to survey the objects and see if she recognized any of them.
To her surprise, she found that she did recall learning about a few of the items, but from what she remembered, the ones she recognized were quite common amongst darker circles and were hardly considered valuable. Delilah, however, was staring at one of the pedestals in awe, so Hermione wandered to her side to see what was so intriguing.
It was an ornate case lined in deep blue velvet, two small daggers resting on the cloth. They were incredibly detailed, with glistening silver blades that had a strange script engraved in them and hilts of a dark metal Hermione didn't recognize. The same script was etched around the quartz points set into the tops of the handles. While they were certainly ornamental, the girl had to wonder what about them was so magnificent as to have enraptured Delilah Burke, who had undoubtedly seen countless ceremonial daggers come through her family's collection.
"What are they?" The Muggle-Born questioned. Delilah answered in a dreamy tone of voice, her eyes not leaving the blades.
"The Daggers of Anointment. They were created by the sisters Lodema, Sigourney, and Beda of the Old Coven of Fen. Legend says that each of the sisters had secretly taken a suitor from their village, but it was against the coven's laws to have a non-magical husband, so they created the daggers to amplify and concentrate their own magic to give to their lovers. When they revealed their success to the coven, their Mother saw that the knives could likely also be used in a way opposite than intended, so she ordered them sealed in the coven's vault to be used only if necessary. When the coven was destroyed just two hundred years later, the vault's location was lost, and so apparently were the multitude of relics the sisterhood had created or collected."
The girl scowled bitterly before continuing. "My family has located several of the sisters' artifacts, so we knew the vault had been found, but we never had the daggers come to us. We've been looking for them for generations. Of course the bloody Malfoy's would have two of the three."
There was a moment of quiet as Hermione digested the story Delilah had told.
"You said they could be used opposite of their intent? Meaning, they could steal someone's magic? How could that be possible?"
Delilah tipped her head to examine the knives from a different angle. "The theory is that the quartz absorbs and supercharges the magic in a witch or wizard's blood, so when a muggle is stabbed with the dagger, the magic is transferred. If you were to drop our blood directly on the blade, they say it would taste sweet like honey because of the runes on its surface concentrating the magic, whereas muggle blood dripped on it simply disappears. So perhaps if you add muggle blood to the crystal, since there's no power to intensify, it sends a void into the witch or wizard being stabbed?"
Hermione furrowed her brows, unsure of how likely the girl's hypothesis was, but was prevented from replying by the soft "pop" of a house elf appearing in the room.
"We is finished cleaning up the guest rooms! Mistress Granger and Miss Burke can be choosing which ones they like, and we is bringing tea and cakes to them," Maisy said with a bow. Delilah straightened and gave one last glance at the daggers, then swept from the room without even a farewell. Hermione shook her head as she exited the artifact room and began to make her way towards the guest quarters, but then she halted, considering. After a moment of deliberation, she turned instead to the rest of the family wing.
There were several bedrooms, most of them starkly decorated and clearly unused; there was a brewing lab whose shelves were overflowing with exotic and expensive potion-making supplies, and it actually looked as though it were utilized fairly often; and at the very rear of the wing, set far apart from the rest of the rooms, was the master suite.
Draco's quarters.
The girl stared up at the ornate double doors, then strode forward and curled her fingers around the handle, her eyebrows raising when it allowed her entry.
Looking around the expansive bedroom, Hermione was surprised at how tasteful she found it, her gaze drifting towards the bookcases stacked against the far wall. It was full of volumes on advanced magic and potioneering, several of which she recognized from her forays into the restricted section of the Hogwarts library, but she noted that a majority of his collection was simply highly challenging techniques.
At the sound of a throat clearing, the girl turned, finding the house elf named Archie staring up at her with inquisitive eyes.
"Is there something I may help you find, Mistress Granger?" He asked, his dialect much clearer than most elves. Hermione knelt before him.
"The young Master Malfoy… can you tell me about him? What is he like when he's here?"
Archie, whom she now noticed appeared to be even older than Kreacher, smiled fondly.
"The young Master Malfoy doesn't spend much time at the Descendant Manor, but he has always treated us elves well. When he comes, he spends much time in the potions laboratory or the casting hall, enhancing his skill. He is a very powerful wizard, Mistress Granger. He will keep you safe."
Hermione wondered at the house elf's words, the same ones Draco had said to her on her first night at the Manor, only a few short days ago. Somehow it felt more like a lifetime ago.
"Please don't tell anyone I was in here, Archie. You may leave me."
The elf gave her a bow and disappeared.
Standing, the girl made her way through the room, taking in all the little details that spoke of its occupant's tastes and tendencies. She picked up a record and smirked when she saw that, coincidentally, it was from one of her favourite wizarding artists.
Hermione was about to leave, but paused at the foot of the bed, running a hand over the ebony silk that was the duvet. She glanced around the room one more time, suddenly remembering that it would be hers as well in six months. A wave of dizziness hit her, as the thought of her future overwhelmed her.
Her chest tightened, the air seeming to lose its oxygen while her heart began to speed. The world tilted, and she stumbled forward, collapsing onto the mattress as sobs wracked her frame.
She was used to the panic attacks. When she was on the run, they would hit her nearly every day, sometimes more than once. But they never became less debilitating or painful. They would always bring memories of her friends, and how she'd never said goodbye to most of them. All she could do was try to keep breathing and pray it would pass quickly.
Hermione gasped into the blankets, and Draco's fragrance filled her senses. It was a woodsy scent, the notes of sandalwood and clove lingering on the fabric and grounding her. She breathed it in for several minutes, letting the aroma pull her back into reality, then rolled onto her back and stared up at the ornate chandelier hanging above her. Her thoughts gradually collected into a more organized stream, and she stood.
The room hadn't been locked when she'd entered it, so she didn't bother locking it when she left. Hurrying to the other side of the manor, Hermione opened one of the guest room doors and hastily shut herself inside, even though she knew there was nobody around to see her puffy and red-rimmed eyes. She washed her face before calling for an elf.
Dex appeared, bowing. "I is bringing your things in here, then. Is there anything else Mistress Granger asks of Dex?"
"Chamomile tea, please. And a shot of Firewhiskey."
The elf nodded, then disappeared. He returned a few minutes later with a cup and saucer in one hand and shot glass in the other, handing the drinks to Hermione before disappearing again. When he reappeared, he was carrying a tall trunk, and began emptying its contents into the closet as the girl downed the alcohol and sipped her tea.
"Dex, please notify me the instant the young Master Malfoy arrives at the Descendant Manor. You are dismissed," she said when the little creature had finished hanging up the clothing it had smuggled away for her.
At last stripping out of Miss Eaglehyde's brilliant silver dress, Hermione slipped into a set of silken pyjamas, her energy dwindling rapidly after the long and stressful day. As she put out the lights, she tried to ignore the furious thunderstorm raging outside, evidence of the Dark Lord's rage. She schooled her thoughts instead towards the puzzling fact that the scent of a boy she'd loathed for years had not only calmed her, but made her feel something she hadn't felt in ages...
Safe.
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