Cruel Intentions
Narcissa woke up well-rested, the bed was unlike any other she had slept on before, it felt as if she was sleeping on a cloud of feathers. While beds in the magical world were charmed with cushioning spells, they often had uncomfortable lumps. She tried to check for spells on the mattress, but it was just another muggle bed. How strange, how did the bed feel so comfortable without any magic?
The traveler's trunk, which was now restored to its full size, stood in the corner of the room. It was a special trunk, a unique design with seven storage spaces with an undetectable charm. It had seven locks; each opened a different compartment filled with an assortment of objects. The first compartment housed a trove of spell books and ancient tomes from the Black and Malfoy libraries, rare texts on dark arts meticulously passed down through generations. The second contained few clothing items for her family, the third one had dark detectors, the fourth and fifth one was full of potion ingredients and other magical equipment, the sixth compartment had extra wands, heirlooms, a stash of Galleons and precious gems. Narcissa had prepared this getaway trunk ever since the Dark Lord decided to visit the manor, the youngest Black sister was always well prepared.
The seventh compartment was particularly intriguing; it held an undetectable extension charm that concealed an underground room with a wooden floor, spacious enough to confine an adult. She quickly closed the trunk, pushing aside any unsettling thoughts of having to use it for a hostage.
Narcissa made her way to her husband’s chambers and greeted him with a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Lucius, my love, good morning.” They exchanged customary polite conversation before she excused herself to the bathroom. She had avoided a bath the night before, daunted by the unfamiliar muggle contraptions. Her supply of beauty potions was meagre so she decided to experiment with the Muggle products stored under the sink.
‘Diptyque’ she read from the label on the vials. After taking a careful sniff, she lavishly applied the products according to the instructions on the bottle. Emerging from the bathroom, she wore elegant robes, her hair perfectly straightened by charms, and her skin glamoured with beauty spells.
“Shall we procced to breakfast dear?” asked Lucius, “Salazar knows what kind of food awaits us in the muggle kitchen!” Narcissa followed her husband, down the stairs into the kitchen.
*******
Draco woke up earlier than usual, having barely slept a wink. His stomach growled uncomfortably, as the last meal he had was a meagre sandwich. He decided to visit the kitchen and snag some fruit from the counter. He missed Mippy, who would have happily sent a tray of his favorite foods to his bedroom.
As he approached the kitchen, a sweet aroma of pancakes wafted through the air, filling his lungs. He sniffed in its direction, and spotted Granger busy flipping pancakes at the stove. She was dressed in pink pajamas, which had a girly design on them and her hair was pulled into a messy bun. Draco shifted nervously, wanting to avoid a morning confrontation but the sweet smell of the pancakes made his stomach growl audibly.
“Hello, I thought I’d get a head start on breakfast!” Hermione chimed, summoning cans of juice from the grey cupboard. Draco eyed the contraption nervously.
“It’s a refrigerator,” she explained, noticing his stare. “It keeps food cold, like a freezing charm.” He nodded and took a seat at the table, stealing occasional glances at her.
Moments later, his parents entered the kitchen, impeccably dressed in formal attire that matched his own. In contrast, Hermione looked casual, her appearance a stark contrast to the Malfoys, who seemed ready to host guests. She observed them with a hint of amusement, stifling a yawn as she continued preparing breakfast.
“I have made some pancakes for breakfast” Hermione said gesturing to the stove which was sizzling with pancake batter and bacon strips. With a wave of her wand, she set the jug of juice, yogurt cups and stack of pancakes neatly on the small dining table in the kitchen.
The Malfoys, having missed meals the previous day, eagerly dug into the spread before them, all while maintaining their impeccable table manners. Lucius noticed that Hermione mirrored their upright posture, taking small bites and exhibiting a discreet demeanor that could rival any pureblood witch. He caught a glance at Narcissa, who seemed to share his observation.
“Thank you, Miss Granger, for this meal you cooked for my family” said Narcissa, and wiped the corner of her mouth with the tip of her napkin.
“Please call me Hermione” she replied, Hermione had resolved the previous night that to endure a summer with the Malfoys, she would need to summon every ounce of civility within her. Though Lucius Malfoy had taken an unbreakable vow not to harm her, she knew the Malfoys could still subject her to their own brand of torment—meanness and exclusion.
After breakfast, the plates were stacked neatly in the sink, Hermione proceeded for the tour of the estate. The rooms looked quite different in the morning light. In the kitchen, she pointed out the various appliances, explaining their uses one by one. She briefly described the other ground-level rooms, while the Malfoys surveyed the space, nodding occasionally but offering no compliments on the furnishings.
“How did you come by this house, if I may ask?” enquired Narcissa. Hermione avoided the older witch's gaze and replied, “It belongs to a French family; I rented it through a Muggle real estate agency under a false name.”
As they walked through the lower floor, Hermione pointed out a small reading room with a cozy fireplace and a spacious dining room designed for entertaining. The Malfoys remained aloof and acted nonchalantly when she introduced television in the den.
“The house may be old, but it has central heating on the upper levels, and a few rooms on the lower level are equipped with air conditioning,” Hermione explained. “I set the thermostat this morning, along with the heater for hot water in the baths.” With that, she led them down the stairs to the pantry.
The room that drew their attention was the wine cellar adjacent to the pantry. It featured rows of mahogany racks displaying an impressive collection of fine wines, a temperature-controlled section, and soft lighting that highlighted rare vintages in a glass case. A small bar with high stools and leather chairs was set up for wine tasting, while two double-door cabinets held an assortment of liquor that Lucius had never encountered before. Muggles certainly had their ways of indulging, he mused.
“Well, the cellar is stocked for the entire year; we could perhaps open a bottle or two for our meals,” Hermione suggested.
Draco's gaze fixated on clear bottles, “That’s vodka; it’s Russian.” Hermione explained.
Draco stared at her with disdain, thinking that perhaps Muggles needed such variety because they lacked elf-made wine and Odgen’s Old Firewhiskey. Who would choose Russian alcohol, which looked like water, when the options in the wizarding world were far superior?
They moved through the rooms, Hermione pointing out various objects and explaining their Muggle uses. Narcissa and Lucius attempted to ask her more questions on the estate, but by the time she finished her explanations, they found themselves outside in the gardens.
“Well, the gardens are expansive, so perhaps you’d like to take a walk on your own. I think we should have a quick meeting; I have few important matters to discuss,” Hermione said, her brows furrowed with concentration. She retrieved a large parchment covered in squiggly diagrams and lists that were charmed to shift and move, and unfurled it out on the table.
“This on the left is a map of the estate,” Hermione began, pointing to a detailed diagram. “I’ve outlined the various chores we need to tackle—cleaning, cooking, inventory, security, laundry, gardening, and so on. Since I’m the only one familiar with Muggle appliances, I’ll handle cooking and laundry, with help from one of you. The rest can be divided fairly. We have a chore chart to keep track of the rotation if needed.” She gestured to a spinning circle on the parchment, their names written in neat, tiny handwriting.
“I beg your pardon? You expect my family to slave over household chores like a lowly house elf” snapped Lucius.
Hermione tried to ignore the house elf reference; a vein was now throbbing on her forehead. ‘Here we go’, thought Draco, he reveled in the spectacle of someone else confronting and insulting Granger for a change.
“As you may have noticed, this isn’t a magical property, so there are no house-elves,” she retorted, her voice steady but tense. “We can’t risk hiring staff. How do you propose we manage in this house? You can’t expect me to do all of this alone.” She pointed emphatically at the moving diagram, color rising to her cheeks as she crossed her arms defiantly.
“Lucius, it is just a matter of few months, the war would be over and we will be back to the comfort of the manor. We shall endeavor to help you out Hermione” replied Narcissa, and pressed a polite smile on her face.
Draco didn’t share his mother's optimism; he knew they would never work alongside a Muggle-born witch, even under the Dark Lord’s Imperius curse. He anyhow needed a way to ask Hermione about the Muggle house while discreetly gathering information about Potter and Shacklebolt’s plans, away from his parents’ prying eyes.
“I’ll volunteer to assist you, Granger. Not that I’d enjoy it, but I refuse to put my parents in the position of enduring your obnoxious company,” Draco said, nodding toward his parents.
“Likewise,” Hermione muttered, snatching up her map before hastily leaving the room. The Malfoys waited until they heard the unmistakable sound of her bedroom door slamming shut upstairs. Narcissa then cast a silencing charm and pulled a notepad from her pocket.
“Draco, are you well this morning. Hope you had a good night rest?” asked Narcissa. Draco nodded at his mother and glanced nervously around the room.
“We need to spy on her, we need to see what she and Shacklebolt are up to.” Lucius said, “There is a secret agreement between them, we also need to find out news about the Wizarding World. We shall meet every day in my room to discuss, if required.”
“We cannot trust the Order Draco, perhaps she is keeping a watch on us and reporting back to Potter. Perhaps they intend to use us against the Dark Lord” supplied Narcissa.
Lucius was now pacing the room. He added, “Constant Vigilance! We cannot appear to be unprepared in the event of an attack or worse a raid on the estate. I shall check the estate boundary myself and set up a caterwauling charm, just to be sure.”
“If it comes to an attack, we cannot break the Vow but we have to find a way to use the girl to our advantage” Lucius reminded them sternly.
Draco nodded to his father; and the three blondes proceeded to their rooms. Draco was dreading spending time with Granger but at least spying on her was better than plotting to murder the headmaster. He shuddered just thinking about the limp body of the dead headmaster falling from the Astronomy tower.
*****
The weather was getting warmer as days passed in July, the inhabitants of Rochefort house spend their days avoiding each other. Draco assisted in the tasks assigned to him, observing for any strange behavior from Granger. They didn’t talk to each other, which suited him just fine, but it also meant he didn’t have much to report back to his parents. Hermione spent most of her time either in her room, locked in the study or scribbling in her notebook in the library. As soon as she would spot one of the Malfoys, she would exit the room without bothering to engage in any conversation.
One evening during lunch, which was a delicious mix of lamb chops and mashed potatoes, Hermione cleared her throat and said “Shacklebolt mentioned to me that you might have information about activities that Volde—”
“No!” shrieked all three Malfoys, “The Dark Lord’s name might be a taboo” replied Narcissa.
“What is a taboo?” Hermione asked, “The name has probably been jinxed, that’s how Death Eaters track members of resistance factions and Dumbledore followers. Using his name breaks protective enchantments, it causes a kind of magical disturbance. It works similar to a trace on underage wizards, we don’t want Death Eaters on the doorstep now do we?” replied Lucius.
“It seems like Dark Magic, did You-know-Who invent it?” asked a nervous Hermione who was now gripping her wand.
“Yes, I am not sure though. He might be able to trace us in another country as well. In any case, the Dark Lord is the most powerful wizard of all time, we shouldn’t take his name in vain” Lucius said, while glancing at her hand gripped around the wand.
Hermione scoffed, “Harry defeated him while at school, when he was just a boy! Anyhow, as I was saying Shacklebolt wants information about the Ministry plans, which Malfoy” she said pointing at Draco,” promised when you made the deal.”
“I know what was promised! And how will you send that information to him? I suspect such sensitive information can be trusted with owls and I am sure this house is not connected to the Floo” taunted Lucius.
Hermione had a sly smile on her face, “Oh we don’t need the floo, we have Internet!”
The Malfoys, except Lucius, stared back at her as if she had sprouted another head. “The what net? Goodness Granger if you make up any more words thinking we will not suspect you of fooling us, you are mistaken. Either explain or shut up” Draco replied sourly and went back to eating his meal.
“Internet is muggle communication used to send message across the world! It is fast and efficient, Shacklebolt has access to the muggle Prime Minister’s office, he knows how to use internet and emails to receive messages. I have been chatting with him since the past few weeks!”
“You have it here? The Internet, you have it here in this house?” asked Lucius.
“Yes, I do. It is a dial up; I had set it up before… “Hermione looked at Lucius and asked “Do you already know what internet is?”
Lucius stared back at her, and replied carefully “Yes, I am aware.” Draco dropped his fork on the plate, Narcissa stared at her husband with wide eyes. “The Malfoy wealth is spread across various businesses and some of it is tied up in muggle ventures, the wizard who manages my muggle investments had updated me of companies in this internet things which are bound to boom in the next decade.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped, Lucius Malfoy, the pureblood bigot, who hated muggle-born and muggles, and thought they deserved to die, had investments in the muggle world!
“You are fine to profit off muggle inventions but want to kill them if you get the chance. Lovely family values you got there” she scoffed.
“I don’t care for muggles and their rotten inventions! I don’t mingle with filthy muggles, my estate manager insisted that when the Dark lord returned to divest my portfolio from traditional wizarding businesses.” Lucius was seething, having been confronted for this by the girl but he had heard about this internet and wanted to see it in person.
“In that case, let’s send an email to Kingsley with the information that you do have”, replied Hermione.
They finished their meal and followed her to the study upstairs, it was a rather small room with shelves lined with books and cabinet filled with papers. In the lone corner stood a wooden desk with a white object, dim light was emanating from it. Draco raised his wand, and looked nervously at this parents who were eyeing the contraption.
“This is a computer, it is connected to the internet” replied Hermione and fired the computer, the dial up took a few minutes and the screen beeped with “You are online”. The Malfoys were staring at the screen which was moving with weird shapes and colors.
Narcissa pointed at the desktop and asked, “Is this the Intarnate?”, Draco who stood beside had a frown on his face and a look of disgust at the moving objects.
“No, like I said this is a computer. It is connected to the Internet”, she replied with exasperation.
Hermione logged into her Yahoo! Account and started drafting an email, typing vigorously on the keyboard. The unfamiliar noise made the Malfoys quite nervous.
“Ok, so what information do you have to pass on?” she asked. Lucius measured his next words very carefully “The Dark Lord intends to pass the Muggle-born Registration Act which would require them to register with the Ministry. Then undergo interrogation as to how they stole the magic from the real wizards. It is planned to be announced when the Dark Lord takes over the Ministry.”
“This is just vile; it’s true purpose is to imprison and torture muggle-borns!” cried Hermione.
Lucius stood unperturbed and replied “It is backed by research by the Department of Mysteries! Magic can only be passed from person to person when wizards reproduce. When there is no wizarding ancestry, how can mudbloods…”
“I asked to not to use that word in my presence” Hermione was now standing in her seat, with her wand pointed at Lucius’s face.
“I am simply passing the information. I did not design the Commission, it was the brain child of Dolores Umbridge. I am sure you are familiar with the former High Inquisitor of Hogwarts” replied Lucius coolly.
Lucius looked at the raised wand, his grey eyes narrowed in contempt. “The real issue is not the Commission or the registration, it is the wand information and usage which will be controlled. Umbridge would have the power to snatch away wands without cause.”
“This is mental, people won’t let this happen. How can Muggle-borns steal magic, if you could steal magic then there wouldn’t be any Squibs” asked Hermione but was met with the defiant glare of Lucius who was staring back at her in contempt.
Narcissa shuffled nervously at this question. Squibs were a well-hidden secret in pureblood families, the Blacks either disowned and shunned Squibs or staged their untimely deaths. It was horrible business, but Hermione was right. If magic could be stolen, why couldn’t they steal it back for Squibs?
*****
Hermione sat frozen; her eyes fixed on the Malfoys. That horrible hag, that evil woman Umbridge was in charge of such a horrendous act of exclusion, this was nothing short of apartheid she thought. Her fingers trembled as she typed out the information. She also mentioned the Taboo on You-Know-How’s name to pass on to the Order members. After hitting ‘send’, she logged off and left the room, not uttering a word to the Malfoys.
Tears streamed down her face as she slammed her bedroom door shut and buried her sobs into her pillow. She reached for the red notebook between the covers and wrote “Atticus are you there? I have sent a message on the muggle owl for King. Tell Prongs junior to not to say Tom’s name out aloud, there is a taboo on it now and it could land him in all sort of trouble. I miss you both terribly.”
She wanted to write about how horrible it was to deal with the Malfoys, to be trapped in the house and see their upturned faces every day but she couldn’t. After a few more tears, she shut her notebook and waited for the familiar golden glow to flicker along the spine.
She waited for a reply, but none came. Ron had written to her almost daily, he wrote about fetching Harry on his birthday from his uncle’s house, the upcoming nuptials of Bill and Fleur, and their plan to hunt Horcruxes. As thoughts of the Burrow filled her mind, she eventually fell asleep, only to be jolted awake by a knock on the door.
She noticed the notebook —Ron had written back. The Ministry had fallen, and he and Harry were on the run after Death Eaters showed up at the Burrow during Bill’s wedding. They had nearly been attacked in Muggle London but were now safe at Grimmauld Place. He hinted that they had brought one more person into the Horcrux hunt, though he couldn’t disclose who, and they would be leaving soon to search for clues.
There was another knock, she hurried to the door, and found Draco standing outside with his hands shoved in his pockets.
“We should start preparing for dinner, just a reminder in case you were planning to starve us”, he said.
“Shut up, Malfoy. I wouldn’t do that—unlike you”, she replied with an irritated tone and followed him to the kitchen.
*****
Draco stood outside the bedroom door, and raised his hand to knock. He remembered how she had stormed out after hearing the news from his father. He didn’t understand her outrage—wasn’t she safe here in the house? Why did it matter to her what happened to others out there?
They needed to start preparing dinner soon and tackle the weekly laundry. The clothes his mother had brought from the manor were all dirty, and they had no choice but to rely on the Muggle clothes in the closet.
He knocked lightly on the door, a couple of times and waited. Hermione emerged, her eyes were red and her curls were a mess- sticking out in all directions. Has the girl never heard of a straightening charm?
“What?!” she yelled. Draco sighed; he wasn’t in a mood for a fight but he couldn’t resist from passing a snarky comment. He watched as she headed to the bathroom to wash her face, and that’s when he noticed the red notebook on her bed. The spine was glowing yellow! This piqued his interest but before he could get a closer look, Granger had shut the door and had started walking towards the kitchen.
Draco walked to the kitchen and started peeling the onions with a lazy wave of his wand. They were often on their own while preparing dinner and Draco decided to pry for information.
“Looks like the Weasel King proposed before school ended?” he asked cautiously.
“What?! What do you mean? His name is Weasley…” she replied between opening soup cans.
“I saw the courting journal in your room; it has a twin, doesn’t it? A gift given to your betrothed by a pureblood wizard to pass messages. So, it must be Weasley? I doubt Potter even knows what courting rituals are—being an orphan and all.”
“Shut up Malfoy! It is not a courting journal, it is just a regular notebook”, she replied, but a faint blush crept up her neck.
“Why are you embarrassed? If it is not Weasley, it’s definitely Longbottom, isn’t it? Honestly, if it is him, you might as well Avada yourself,” Draco said with a loud laugh.
This earned him a hard smack with the kitchen napkin, but he noticed her face visibly relax afterward. He made a mental note to mention the journal to his parents; a betrothal to a pureblood wizard—even if it was to the blood-traitor Weasley or the stupid Longbottom—might be part of her deal with Shacklebolt.
They ate their dinner in silence, the scrapping of the silverware was punctuated with the popping of wine bottles. Draco noticed that his father was on his third glass while Granger had already polished off her second. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glassy as she stared off at a distant point on the dining table.
“This is a fine vintage,” Narcissa remarked. “It tastes almost like wizarding wine.”
Hermione scoffed, “It was an anniversary present for my parents, I thought we should celebrate my escape from the Muggle-born registration at the Ministry.”
She poured herself another glass and gulped it down, a bit of wine spilled from the corner of her mouth and dribbled onto her jumper. She smacked her lips and left the table, leaving the Malfoys exchanging puzzled looks.
“I don’t understand why she’s upset?” asked Draco. “She doesn’t have to register at the Ministry, and her two mates aren’t muggle-born.”
“People like to take moral high grounds Draco, for the sake of posterity and to appear noble” scoffed Lucius. The Malfoys continued their dinner, their manners preventing them from causing a scene.
Narcissa however glanced at the empty chair and Hermione’s unfinished plate, and couldn’t help feel a bit of sympathy for the witch. She had never known Muggles and Muggle-borns before, but after spending a month in the company of Hermione, everything felt different. The war was beginning to take on a new meaning for her.