Chapter 8

They all walked together into the large dining room. The panic that she felt when she first arrived had dissipated, but her heart rate still spiked when she saw the black stone walls and felt the marble floors through the soles of her sandals. However, like the formal parlor by the entrance, every surface was populated with life and color. As though it were trying to fight back against the darkness. Hermione took a deep breath, the floral aroma was not overpowering, but instead perfumed the air like a spring day. It put Hermione's racing thoughts at ease and she took her seat at the long table set for three.

Breakfast was a strange affair for Hermione. It was by far the most extravagant food she had ever seen. There were scones, pastries, omelettes, fruits, toast, and other things she couldn't name but smelled divine. Even at the Hogwarts' feasts, she had never been presented with such an array of wonderful food. It almost felt like a sin to take a bite from the beautiful arrangement set in front of her. But her hunger won out and she filled her plate.

Narcissa sat demurely at the head of the table, she cut delicately into her omelette and brought the fork to her mouth. It was like she was in a movie, every move calculated and perfect. It made Hermione feel clumsy and oafish. She unfurled the napkin swan to cover her lap in an effort to look as if she wasn't entirely out of her element. Hermione was used to elbows on the table, people shouting over each other, talking with mouths full, and sharing off each other's plates. The silence felt oppressive, but she kept the smile on her face. She was a guest after all, and despite her entrance, she wanted to make a good impression.

Hermione tried not to watch Draco out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn't help it. Like his mother, his long fingers held his utensils delicately. The way his jaw moved as he chewed was smooth and gentle in its movements. Hermione didn't even attempt to look at his lips. It was already strange to be watching him so closely.

Her embarrassment from the water incident was fresh on her mind, and besides a little pink at the tips of Draco's ears, to him, it was like it never happened. She felt a bit exposed in her thin dress and hoped that she could be excused after breakfast to change quickly. She rubbed her exposed shoulders, trying to ward off the gooseflesh pimpling her skin. She wished she had thought to bring a cardigan or at least a shawl. She felt Draco's eyes following her movements, and stopped immediately.

For a few minutes, the silence was only interrupted by the sounds of their knives and forks against the china. Then, Narcissa raised her head from her food, gracefully wiping her thin lips on her napkin.

"So, Miss Granger, I first wanted to welcome you to our home, but after my husband's outburst I feel the need to apologize-"

Hermione quickly interrupted the apology. "Oh, please, call me Hermione, and there's no need to apologize! I'm just here to try to help." Hermione already felt awkward sitting in their house as a guest. It seemed more comfortable for her to remind herself that she was here for a job.

Narcissa gave a wane smile, as if she understood her trepidation. Now that they were sitting so close to each other, Hermione was actually able to get a good look at Narcissa. Hermione wouldn't say she had aged much in the years since she has seen Mrs. Malfoy, but there were more wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Hermione couldn't tell if they were smile lines or frown lines. She hoped for the former, but it was difficult to tell. Draco had said that his father returning as a ghost had put his mother in distress, but maybe there was a part of her that was happy her husband had returned. Hermione would have to wait and see.

"Draco has found a way to contain my husband to certain rooms, but sometimes he slips his bonds. Maybe Draco could show you how to secure him. That way he will not be able to disturb your research." Narcissa said calmly. "He's been spending many hours in the library looking through some of our more ancient texts, but there really isn't much on our shelves about ghosts. If you require anything specific, please don't hesitate to ask either Draco or I. Anything you need will be our pleasure to secure." Narcissa looked over at her son, "Isn't that right, Draco?"

Draco gave a nod of acknowledgement, but made no attempt to speak. When Hermione met his eyes, he quickly looked away, his ears burning once more. Hermione blushed wondering what was going through his brain.

She quickly turned back around to face Narcissa, "That would be wonderful." There was a moment of awkward silence. Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "This has been a delicious breakfast, thank you. If I could have a moment in my room to change my clothes, then I can get started."

"Draco would be happy to escort you to the guest wing, won't you Draco?" From Narcissa's tone, it was clear that it was more of an order than a request. Narcissa stood from her seat at the head of the table, her hand extended to her son. Draco quickly stood and pulled his mother's chair out for her.

"Of course, mother." He said resignedly. He went over to his mother and kissed her gently on the cheek. He then came around the back of Hermione's chair and for some reason she shivered. It could've been because Draco's robe stirred the air behind her, but she wasn't sure. He then walked to the double doors that led back to the entrance parlor, opening them both with a burst of movement. "Granger, if you'll follow me." He didn't wait for her to get up before disappearing down the hall.

Hermione jumped up quickly and tried not to get her strappy sandals tangled in the chair's legs. "Thank you again, Narcissa, for a spectacular meal." She tried to fold her napkin, but her shaking fingers kept dropping the cloth. She didn't want Malfoy to get too far away, so she left it in a kind of messy lump. Before she could embarrass herself further, she dashed out the door. She didn't need to rush however, because Draco was leaning against one of the Greek style columns in the same manner as his father. Except he wasn't translucent and floating six inches off the ground.

He seemed to notice her frantic expression, from her rush out of the dining room because he gave a cruel smirk. Hermione tried not to bristle. She hated looking like a fool, and she was at her limit already this morning. She blew a stray piece of her curls out of her face. Draco gave a bit of recoil, his smirk gone.

Hermione felt a moment of triumph, if Malfoy was so disgusted by her presence, then he would most likely leave her alone so she could work the rest of the day.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and pulled himself lazily off of the column. He flicked a long finger to indicate to her to follow. Normally, Hermione would have normally protested for being summoned like a dog, but she hoped that the sooner Draco would show her to her quarters, the sooner she could get to work.

They made no small talk on the short walk across the halls. Hermione tried not to be mesmerized by the marble busts and beautiful artwork hung on the walls, but some were so captivating she longed to take a closer look. She hoped that in her time here, she could take a few minutes from research and maybe have Narcissa show her around. There was a terribly handsome bust on its own pillar near a window and Hermione stopped to take a closer look. However, she quickly felt disgust when she noticed the small plaque in gold that read, Draco Lucius Malfoy b. June 5, 1980. She nearly tripped over herself to go back to following Draco before he could see where her attention had wandered.

The floors were spotless and Hermione could see her reflection in the marble. She knew that all of the cleaning had to be done by House-Elves, of which she had only met one, Pippy. Therefore, on principle she found every example of luxury distasteful, but she still could appreciate the dedication to their tasks. Perhaps, while I'm here, I could drop a pamphlet outlining the benefits of utilizing the Dobby Fund. The idea made her smile mischievously.

They finally came to a hallway with countless doors on either side. Malfoy led Hermione to a door that was larger than the others. Hermione wasn't sure if it was charmed to look grander or not.

"This will be your room," Draco said casually as he opened the door. Hermione tried not to let her mouth gape, but it was one of the most luxurious rooms she had ever seen. The room was a landscape of golds, creams, and pinks. It was like a sunrise incarnate. Narcissa clearly wanted nothing to do with darkness anymore, and Hermione could see her efforts of keeping it out. The wallpaper was captivating with golden roses glistening on a cream backdrop as if they were sprinkled with morning dew. Hermione thought if she breathed deeply enough, she could smell the aroma from their petals.

The carpet was plush enough that she was sure she could curl up just fine to sleep on it. Speaking of sleep, when her eyes finally fell on the bed, she nearly fell to her knees. In front of her stood a bed straight from her dreams. It was a huge four poster, with gold curtains hung delicately from the sides. The comforter was a cream velvet material that looked soft enough to let her melt into the mattress.

The light from outside shone delicately in through the gauzy curtains, and Hermione finally noticed the french doors leading to a balcony. She knew in her heart that it would make a wonderful place to stretch out in the evening with a fresh cup of tea and a new book.

Malfoy smirked as he took in her reaction, as if he wasn't surprised that his luxurious accommodations were a treat to her. "I understand if you might be a tad overwhelmed at first. I know that you're used to more, let's say humble arrangements." He gave Hermione a slimy smile, but she was expecting taunts from him.

She straightened her spine and stood up straight. She was no longer the little girl who allowed bullies to get the better of her. She turned to smile at Malfoy, who was unsurprisingly leaning against the doorframe. It seems like the rich have a problem with standing up for a long time. The weight of their wealth must fit heavy on their shoulders. She thought of maybe offering to allow him a minute to relax on one of the antique fainting couches, but she had a better way to get under his skin. Maybe she could use this job as an opportunity to get back at him for all of his schoolyard taunts towards her and her friends.

"Anyone can enjoy a beautiful room, Malfoy, but my type of luxury is more humble, as you so wonderfully put it." She gave a mocking smile and came up close to his face, like she was sharing a secret only meant for his ears. "I much rather prefer my own quiet luxuries, like a new book, a hot cup of tea-"

"A quick dip in a pool, perhaps?" Draco interrupted her. "With maybe only a thin dress on? And when it gets wet, it clings to certain areas. Would that be another one of your 'quiet luxuries, Granger?" Draco was now leaning even closer into her. His smile was wolfish, as he slowly looked her up and down.

Hermione's face grew hot. The embarrassment from that moment now fresh in her mind, "Get out," she spit while taking cover behind the door. Without making sure he was out of the way of the hinges, she slammed the door in his face.

He chuckled as she heard him walk away, completely unharmed by her tantrum. Hermione's face was flushed as she tried to catch her breath. She couldn't believe him! She thought that he wouldn't bring it up, that it embarrassed him as much as it did her. But that smile, she cursed under her breath. It seemed like the bastard was enjoying himself.

She grabbed her suitcase from the place where Pippy must've brought it in and slammed it on the bed. It gave a hearty bounce, both from the force Hermione used to throw it, and the softness of the comforter. Oh, she thought, she was going to make him pay for that. Nobody embarrassed Hermione Jean Granger and got to chuckle it off.

She wasn't used to someone being quick enough to parry her jabs. Ron and Harry usually at least took a few minutes to untangle her words before replying. In a battle of wits, Hermione was always the one who came out on top. There was no way that Draco, Draco Malfoy of all people would get the best of her.

She knew that she was here on a mission, a mission that would need her complete focus and dedication, but she thought she could set aside some time to prove to Draco that she was not just some silly witch that could be dazzled into stupidity by fancy clothes and good food. It was just a momentary slip, she told herself. She had been thrown off her game when she had been forcefully pulled into the same house where she had spent the scariest afternoon of her life. It was a shock, it was normal to feel off kilter for a time after something like that happened.

Once she became more accustomed to the house and the rooms, she knew that she would be back to her usual self. She just needed time and familiarity. She took a deep breath, yes, she thought, I can get through this.

Soon, she imagined that she would be in the Malfoy's Potion room and she would be surrounded by simmering cauldrons and the smell of parchment. She would be able to finally relax and get on with the research. She began unpacking to find her white lab coat.

There suddenly came the sound of the clearing of a throat across from her. She was in the middle of pulling her jumper over her head and yelped thinking someone had walked into the room while she was changing. She was only in her knickers and the jumper was stuck on her head, completely exposed. She quickly pulled her head through the hole. She felt the static run through her hair as it stood up on end.

Looking around, she saw that the room was empty, until the sound came again. There was a standing mirror in the corner, large enough where it took up most of the wall. It was surrounded in a thick frame of gold, and probably weighed close to two-hundred pounds. Hermione realized that was where the sound was coming from.

When she finally noticed the mirror, it spoke again, "Oh dearie, I just wanted to let you know that orange is really not your color." Hermione looked down and saw that she was wearing her favorite orange jumper. She quickly spun away from the judgemental mirror with a huff. The mirror was quiet while Hermione stepped into her jeans. She had just gotten her hair under control in a braid and was heading to the door when the mirror stopped her once more.

"By the way," the mirror said, "your jumper is inside out." Hermione smacked the back of her neck and was horrified to feel the tag there, right out in the open. She groaned loudly and threw off the offending cloth. When it was on the floor, she was so frustrated she kicked it under the bed where she wouldn't have to look at it.

"So," the mirror began. "Now that that's not an option for today, how would you like some of my own suggestions?"

Hermione flung herself face first into the bed and attempted to muffle her screams of frustration into the pillow.