Chapter Two
Hermione sat in the bath, staring at the soapy water that surrounded her. Curled into a small ball she was half submerged. She was shivering, the water had long gone cold. Her shoulders felt heavy, she was struggling to breathe. It was time to get out she decided, holding herself out as she exited the slippery tub. The room was dry and warm, it must have been magic that heated the castle. She still couldn’t believe that Malfoy had a castle. Questions began to fill her brain ebbing into the pools of worry. Was it just him here? Where was his mother? His father? The tunnel in Malfoy manor had led here, how? She wrapped herself in a towel, the terrycloth changing to fit her body as she wrapped it around herself. She let out a gasp of amazement as she found herself in a large fluffy robe. In fascination, she ran her hands over the soft material that draped it’s self over her hips. The magic in this place was strong she could feel it thrumming in her bones. Hermione looked around the bathroom, finally taking in where she was. Her originally shock-clouded eyes had glazed over the marble floor and gold-leafed mirror frame. Whatever level of gaudy in-your-face wealth the Malfoy manor had been the Castle was so much worse.
A loud Pop filled the room and Hermione flinched as she found herself looking at a house elf. Dressed in a silk pillowcase, a lace doily tied on her head like a bonnet, the house elf stared up at Hermione with the biggest eyes.
“Hello Missus, I is Mopsy, Master Draco has said to take you into your room, will you is come with me?”
Hermione tried not to be bothered by the house elf, her large eyes and droopy ears made her so endearing, however, all Hermione could see was Dobby, a little elf who only wanted his freedom, and one who was dead. This hadn’t been the first time that she had been snatched and taken to Malfoy Manor. Easter 1998. She rubbed in her inner arm subconsciously, the word that had been carved there inched for her attention.
“Missus?” the elf–Mopsy—asked again. “You is Alright?” Mopsy reached out a hand as if to touch Hermione.
Hermione nodded, “I’m fine,” she said, but it was little more than a whisper. “Lead the way,”
Mopsy pushed open the bathroom door and led Hermione into an opulent room, with high vaulted ceilings, large open windows and a summer breeze rolling through them which was strange considering that–she paused, what season was it? Did she even know? Everything since Bill and Fleur's wedding had been dull and grey. She had been too busy to stop and feel the breeze.
“Master Draco told the elves to get Missus clothes, we is find these.” she waved her little hands in excitement towards a heap of shapeless clothes, “but they is very old, but Master Draco is very smart and he says we use our magic to fixes it,”
“It’s very kind of you to help me,” Hermione looked down at the elf who was now wiggling her ears with excitement.
“We also have food for you Missus,” Mopsy gestured to a tray of steaming food. Hermione moved towards it, her stomach growling, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything. A bowl of broth, a piece of bread heavily buttered, a pot of tea. All food would be easy on her stomach.
“I didn’t realize elves could use their magic like that,”
“Yes we can,” the little elf said enthusiastically. “Would Missus like to wear?”
“You can choose,” Hermione told her.
Mopsy’s eyes lit up, “really?” Hermione nodded. She let out a little squeal, her ears flopping up and down as she jumped excitedly. “We is taking your measurements so we can make proper clothes for Missus!” she cried before burrowing into the pile of clothes.
Hermione stood there awkwardly waiting as Mopsy dug through the ancient clothes. “This is nice for Missus,” she said, pulling out a simple grey dress, “not too old,” she threw the dress to Hermione and made a show of covering her eyes as Hermione changed into the dress. It did not fit at all, it was far too tight in the bust and had next to no room accommodating her chest.
“Oh dear,” said Mopsy, snapping her fingers the fabric of the dress shifted until it fit her like a glove. “There, now Missus is beautiful!”
Hermione ran her hands over her hips, feeling the silky material of the dress. Twisting she looked in the mirror, what had seemed to be an unappealing dress had been transformed into a flattering gown. Wide straps covered her shoulders supporting the bodice of the dress the silky silver fabric that covered her shoulders and chest fit tightly and reached her waist, turning into a deep satin green so dark it was almost black.
She let out a contemplative noise as her moth typed up into a smirk, “did you put me in Slytherin colour on purpose?” she asked the little elf.
Mopsy shook her head as she insisted, “No missus!”
Hermione bent down, “I was only joking,” she said softly, a pang of sympathy resonating in her heart at the little elf before the war Hermione had been invested in freeing the house elves, but nowadays she had spent so much time worrying about her and the boys that she hadn’t paid it any thought. Her heart felt heavy at the thought of Malfoy terrorizing these poor elves. “Thank you very much,” she said, pulling the small creature into her arms. She let Mopsy go, who was now squealing with joy.
“Could you please tell me where I can find Malfoy?”
“Missus means Master Draco?” the elf paused, “Or Mistress Narcissa?”
“Draco,” Hermione said, pressing her lips together, his name tasted odd in her mouth and she had to pause and think, had she said it before? Or had he always been Malfoy to her? She shook her head, dispelling such thoughts.
The elf let out a squeak, “Ah! Master Draco is in his office, does Missus want Mopsy to fetch him?”
Hermione shook her head,” No, I’d like to go find him myself, may I do that?”
The elf nodded, “he is down the halls,”
Hermione murmured a thanks before slipping out of the room in into the hallway. Her bare feet carried her down the threadbare floor runner that covered the rich hardwood floor. She moved toward the only room that showed signs of life, a large intricate door detailing dragons, and the Malfoy crest. It was slightly ajar, with a low glow of light escaping from underneath it. She reached for the door, wondering if she should knock before she opened it. She decided giant it, her finger wrapping around the golden door knob as she stepped into the room.
A dishevelled-looking Malfoy stood up in surprise as she entered. He had clearly bathed since he had brought her back, his platinum hair still slightly damp and tousled. His robes were tossed over a chaise, a blazer lay on top of it and his tie was haphazardly strewn across his desk. His waistcoat was undone completely, hanging off his shoulders, and his black dress shirt was half undone, revealing the hard planes of his chest and a tantalizing view of defined abs.
“Granger!” he said, surprised. “I didn’t expect you,”
“Malfoy,” she acknowledged, her hands curling into fists behind her, she knew he would hate what she was going to ask. “We need to talk,”