This wasn't a situation she had anticipated. Hermione learned of the law while chatting casually with Ginny about life after professional Quidditch. "I'm a stay-at-home wife now," Ginny had explained with a shrug. "Married to the Head Auror, Harry James Potter, and his salary is more than enough for us. Plus, the law doesn't allow me much choice anyway."
"What do you mean about the law?" Hermione had asked her in a worried tone. As a Muggle-born, she was still unaware and lacked knowledge of all the archaic laws in the wizarding world.
Ginny explained, "The law which states that a married woman is only allowed to have paid work outside the home if her family needs a second income." Seeing Hermione's reaction, she chirped, "Assisting in a husband's work is permissible."
"Ginny, you know Draco, like his ancestors, doesn't work. He spends his day managing assets and maintaining the Malfoy legacy."
"Well, you should have married Ron instead of the Ferret. Think of the fun you'd have in inventing new products for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!" Ginny teased her.
"Ginny, you know Ron and I split up because he wants a stay-at-home wife."
Three weeks after her wedding, Hermione sat in the grand but lonely study of Malfoy Manor, staring blankly at the stacks of parchment before her. The initial joy of her marriage had faded into a monotonous routine. The law, which had seemed an archaic curiosity during her conversation with Ginny, had become a harsh reality. She had discovered the law had existed for centuries, but it had been pro forma. Now, it was being enforced due to the high unemployment rate.
Her position as a scientific analyst at the Ministry had been more than a job; it was a passion, a part of her identity. Now, she felt that part of her slipping away.
With nothing to do, she became bored and depressed despite being the brightest witch of her age. Desperate for perspective and inspiration, she reached out to someone who had long embraced the role of a stay-at-home wife, Molly Weasley. She took the Floo to the Burrow.
"Molly, I was hoping to talk with you," Hermione began, her voice echoing slightly in the firelit room. "I've been finding it difficult to adjust to life without work, and I wondered... what do you do all day as a stay-at-home wife?"
Molly answered, "There's always much to do to keep a home running smoothly."
She smiled warmly and continued, "For instance, I start my day early by preparing breakfast and getting everyone ready. After that, there's a myriad of tasks that keep me busy. Cleaning the house thoroughly, doing the laundry, and ensuring the clothes are mended and ready for use. Cooking meals is another significant part of my day—planning nutritious and delicious dishes for the family takes time and effort.
Besides these daily chores, something always needs attention in the garden, whether planting, weeding, or harvesting vegetables and herbs. It's a lot of work, but it keeps our home running smoothly and filled with love."
Hermione woke the following day with a renewed sense of purpose, inspired by her conversation with Molly Weasley. She had thought about what Molly had said long into the night and decided it was time to take on more responsibility for running their home. She was sure their house-elves would be happy to have more leisure time.
She dressed, descended the grand staircase to the main hall, and entered the kitchen. As she approached, Hermione rolled up her sleeves and cheerfully announced to the elves, "Good morning! I'll make breakfast today."
The house elves paused, their large eyes blinking at her in mixed confusion and concern. To Hermione, it seemed a straightforward offer; she would handle the breakfast preparations and perhaps even organize the pantry, which she had noticed was perpetually in need of attention.
However, her well-intentioned intrusion was not received as she had expected. The elves exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to respond to the Lady of the Manor insisting on taking over their pride and responsibility. Buoyed by a desire to make a positive change, Hermione did not immediately grasp the delicate balance she unwittingly disrupted.
As she began cracking eggs and summoning ingredients with a flick of her wand, the house elves hesitated, torn between their ingrained duty to serve and the impulse to follow her lead. They whispered amongst themselves, wondering why their mistress would want to perform tasks meant for them, interpreting it perhaps as a critique of their work rather than an offer of respite. Their emotions were a complex mix of confusion, concern, and a touch of hurt pride.
Unaware of the elves' growing distress, Hermione continued with her tasks, imagining how delighted they might eventually be with the extra time to themselves. Little did she know that her actions were about to stir quite a misunderstanding in the heart of Malfoy Manor. This misunderstanding would test her resolve and understanding of the delicate balance of power and respect in the magical world.
Feeling deeply insulted and upset, Mipsy hurried off to find Draco, her tiny hands wringing her apron, her eyes brimming with tears. She was a dedicated and proud housewife, and the thought that her work might not be satisfactory to her mistress was deeply distressing to her.
"Master Draco, sir!" Mipsy wailed, her voice trembling with distress as she tugged on Draco's sleeve. Her large, round eyes were filled with a mixture of fear and desperation. He was deeply engrossed in his investment analysis, papers strewn about him like leaves in the wind, seemingly oblivious to her presence. "Lady Malfoy, she is taking over all our tasks! Does she not find our work satisfactory?" Mipsy's ears drooped and her hands wrung together anxiously, reflecting her deep-seated worry that her centuries-old duties and the very essence of her purpose in the household were being undermined and rendered obsolete by Hermione's relentless efficiency.
Draco, never comfortable with tears, felt a pang of irritation mixed with confusion. "I'll speak to Hermione after I finish this analysis," he promised. However, his assurance did little to calm the distraught elf.
No sooner had he returned to his papers than another sobbing elf, Teeny from the garden, appeared, his eyes red and swollen with tears. His story mirrored Mipsy's, and Draco's frustration grew as he repeated his promise. "Yes, yes, I'll talk to her," he said, his voice a mix of reassurance and impatience. Teeny's shoulders sagged, and his hands clutched at his apron, her tiny frame shaking with the weight of feeling unneeded and displaced. The garden, his pride and joy, was now under Hermione's meticulous care, leaving Teeny with a profound sense of loss and uselessness.
Then came Zookey from the kitchen, her cheeks streaked with tears, her tiny fists clenched in dismay. She looked up at Draco with a heartbroken expression, her whole body trembling with the weight of her distress. Draco's desk was now surrounded by crying elves, their collective sorrow filling the room. His tolerance for emotional displays was swiftly depleting, but the depth of their despair was palpable. Zookey's voice quivered as she spoke, "Master Draco, Lady Malfoy is in the kitchen, doing all our work! Does she think we are not good enough?" Her anguish and sense of rejection mirrored in the eyes of the other elves, making Draco's frustration and impatience grow even more intense.
Draco abandoned his work with a heavy sigh and set out to find his wife, not anticipating the challenge ahead. Malfoy Manor was vast, and Hermione seemed to have vanished into its many corners. Room after room, he searched, his frustration mounting and a trail of elves accumulating behind him, each sharing their grievance with the next.
At long last, amidst piles of freshly washed robes in the laundry room, he found Hermione folding linen and humming a tune cheerfully. Seeing her so unperturbed only fueled Draco's irritation.
"Granger, look what you've done!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. The trail of elves peered around him, their eyes puffy and red. "You've insulted and upset all our house elves. Because of that, I can't get any work done. You need to fix this—now!"
Hermione looked up, startled by his outburst. Her eyes softened as she took in the sight of the distressed elves, and understanding dawned on her.
She hadn't realized how her actions could be so misinterpreted.
"Oh, I never meant to upset anyone," Hermione said earnestly, approaching the crowd of tiny, tear-stained faces. "I just wanted to give them more leisure time."
As Hermione earnestly explained her intentions to the gathered elves, the atmosphere in the laundry room was tense but attentive. She had just expressed her desire to give them more leisure time when Mipsy stepped forward, her expression resolute despite her small stature.
"Lady Hermione, ma'am," Mipsy began, her voice clear and surprisingly firm. "We elves at Malfoy Manor already have a fair schedule—30 hours a week, five weeks of paid holidays, and bank days off. We have more than enough leisure time, and to be honest, some of us might even start feeling a bit bored and depressed with more time off."
The room fell silent for a moment as her words sank in. Hermione looked around, seeing nods among the other elves, and realized she had perhaps projected her feelings of restlessness onto them.
"That's... quite enlightening, Mipsy. Thank you for sharing that," Hermione replied, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. "I suppose I'm the one who's feeling bored and depressed. I'm not used to having so much free time. I miss my job as a scientific analyst at the Ministry."
Draco, who had been quietly observing the exchange, saw an opportunity. He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulder, a small smile on his lips.
"Well, you could be my scientific analyst. It will be useful to have a sharp mind like yours to analyze the best ways to manage our assets and maintain the Malfoy legacy ethically and sustainably. It's quite a puzzle, and you'll find it both challenging and rewarding. Plus, we can determine the best causes to support with our money."