Draco's dragonhide oxfords echoed through the cavernous hallway leading to the formal dining room of the Manor as he purposefully walked toward the smell of wafting bangers, eggs, and fried tomatoes. With the Daily Prophet secure in his grasp, he settled into his velvet upholstered Queen Anne dining chair situated at the head of a table that stretched nearly the entire length of the expansive room. With a crack, his house-elf Baron appeared at his side extending a platter with an exquisite medley of breakfast items onto the table in front of his master. Snapping his fingers, he summoned the linen-wrapped cutlery along with a carafe of Britain's finest orange nectar.
"Will Master Draco require anything more from Baron this morning?" he inquired with a dutiful friendliness. His bright orbs shone with a willingness to oblige nearly any additional request.
Draco peered down from the now unrolled Daily Prophet. "No Baron, this is quite lovely. In fact, why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off? I have a meeting at the Ministry that requires my presence." He scanned the elf's face for agreement only to find his reverential eyes bulging and wide as Quaffles.
"Oh, no, Master Draco!" he squeaked in alarm. "Baron can't accept. Baron is not knowing what he would do with himself." He shook his head rapidly from left to right in undisguised objection. "Baron will polish Master's silver and will have dinner ready for his return!"
And with a hasty pop, he vanished.
Draco sighed in resignation. He had tried tirelessly for the past several years to sort out the servitude ideals so heavily ingrained in his house elf's psyche. So much had changed since the war, including Baron becoming a free elf. Only it seemed that most magical creatures enslaved by ancient Pureblood families astonishingly chose to stay on in servitude. Draco ensured Baron was paid a very generous allowance for his work at the Manor and insisted regularly that he take time for leisure, but it was a daily battle that was only met with resistance. No matter, he would continue trying, always hoping for a different outcome. Truth be told, Draco appreciated the elf's companionship. The Manor became a very lonely place after his parents' departure. And while he had work to keep him busy, and the occasional exchange with the ancestral portraits that adorned the Manor walls, Draco largely led a life of solitude.
Thoughts of work reminded him of his plan to owl Granger to inform her of his acceptance of the Minister's offering. Following the receipt of Shaklebolt's memo the previous evening, Draco took the remainder of the night well into the early morning hours to mull over the proposal that he be made Granger's partner. To be honest, he was rather surprised his demands were met so readily, leaving him to wonder what unpleasantness might lie ahead that they were withholding. Other than the obvious unpleasantness of Granger. With that, he conjured a quill and parchment and began writing in his traditional elegant scroll...
Granger,
Seeing as we will be endeavoring a partnership at the DMLE for the foreseeable future, I thought it would behoove us to meet to go over a few pertinent details. Please meet me in our office promptly at 2pm, following my meeting with Kingsley.
Regards,
D.M.
With that, he summoned his Eurasian Eagle Owl, Eltanin, and fastened the message to his extended appendage. Draco paused in thoughtful silence lamenting the words he thought never in his lifetime would leave his mouth. "Please ensure this gets to Hermione Granger," he said, as the owl's ear tufts ruffled and the overly-large bird took flight.
Believing this to be his new life's low, he flattened out the pages of the Daily Prophet and tucked into his now cold morning meal.
