Chapter Text
Crisp morning fog and low light hung over the rolling hills. As the sun began its slow journey beyond the horizon, one single soul trudged through the grass still wet with dew.
Holding her skirts aloft, she made her silent journey, walking far away from the manor that stood in stark contrast from the natural surrounds. When she reached the crest of the hill, in the place she liked to sit and welcome the day, communing with nature before the tedious tasks of the day ahead. She loved the smell of the grass, the trees, the wildflowers that bloomed in thick clusters along the trail she walked.
This was bliss. Closing her eyes, Hermione breathed in deeply, willing her nose to remember every single smell and texture that it took in. All of this would energise her and keep her plodding along throughout the day. She would hold onto this feeling so that the next morning she could look forward to doing it all again.
As the sun rose higher, she knew that it was time to return to her life—the life of a servant to a noble family. The life of a witch not born to any fortune, whose parentage was unremarkable: a Muggleborn.
The manor was still silent upon her return, save for the lower floors near the servants’ quarters where those who resided were all beginning to rise and prepare for the busy day to come. Hermione quietly returned to her room, only to use her wand to straighten out her dress, drying away the dampness from the dew that collected while she walked. She donned her apron, stopping in the kitchen only long enough to quickly break her fast before she reported for her morning duties.
Upstairs in the drawing room she stood by the window and waited patiently for the steward to report for work that day. She loathed him. He was exactly the sort of man who would bury his obnoxious nose up the backside of a wealthier man, simply to put himself in good standing. From the gossip she had heard in the servants’ quarters, she was not too far off the mark with her observation, and had only achieved his position in the household through nepotism. He came from a lowly Pureblood family; just enough standing to gain a position working for a wealthy family, but not a self-made man in his own right.
‘Ah, Miss Granger, good morning.’
Hermione glanced away from the window and saw that Percy Weasley was observing her from the doorway. She disliked the way his eyes would linger over her. Something about the way he gazed at her made her feel incredibly unclean.
‘Good morning, Mr Weasley,’ she answered, keeping her speech formal and clipped. She bore no desire to engage with him beyond civility.
‘I take it you are in good health?’ he asked, walking deeper into the room, approaching her.
‘Very well,’ she answered woodenly.
He must have sensed her disinterest in engaging with him in pleasantries, for his polite, open expression transformed to one of haughty superiority in seconds.
‘As you may not be aware, the Malfoy family will be expecting an important guest to arrive in the afternoon. No time has been given, but one might assume it will be shortly following lunch,’ he rattled off. ‘As such, I expect the guest quarters will be prepared for their arrival by lunch. After you have seen to the guest preparations, you may resume your normal daily schedule.’
‘Understood,’ she told him, making her way over to the doorway so that she could get on with her daily tasks.
‘And Miss Granger?’
She paused, not bothering to turn around and face him. She heard him approach and knew from how warm her back felt that he was standing far too close to her for comfort. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘Be sure to complete all of your tasks before you disappear into the library to… assist the librarian,’ he drawled. ‘It wouldn’t do for you to be distracted from your work.’
Agitation flooded her, and she nodded resolutely before flouncing away from him, climbing the stairs and making her way towards the guest wing. The manor was large and there were many suites available, though Hermione knew that the very best view of the estate was the corner suite on the third floor. So she beelined towards it, intent on preparing it for their mystery guest.
Once her task was complete, she did a final sweep of the room, and satisfied with her preparations, left to fulfill the numerous other daily chores she had. On her way to the kitchen to ensure that the Malfoys' breakfast was being taken care of, she ran into Hannah, the other maid of the household. The blonde woman smiled in greeting, pausing as if to speak with her.
‘Are you well today, Hermione?’ she asked.
‘Quite well,’ she answered, though she was secretly still seething from her earlier interaction with Percy.
Hannah raised her eyebrows knowingly. ‘Percy Weasley again?’
Crossing her arms, Hermione sighed heavily and nodded. ‘He really is the most pompous ass in all of Christendom,’ she grumbled.
Hannah laughed. ‘It’s because he likes you,’ the blonde woman insisted. ‘If you’d only entertain him, he might not be so bad.’
‘Never,’ Hermione said primly.
‘Suit yourself,’ Hannah replied in a sing-song manner. ‘What tasks are on the agenda for today?’
‘There is a guest arriving this afternoon. I have already prepared the corner guest suite in the east wing. If you could assist Mr Filch with the breakfast service, I will continue with general cleaning tasks around the manor. I’ll need you to speak with Percy about the menu for dinner this evening. If there is a guest, I have no doubt they will desire a special menu,’ Hermione listed off.
‘Very well,’ Hannah agreed with a nod.
‘Check back in with me after lunch,’ Hermione told her. ‘I am certain Mr Weasley will have found a new way to micromanage us by then.’
Chuckling on her way towards the kitchen, Hannah left off to complete her morning chores while Hermione reached into the pocket of her apron and drew out her daily checklist. Now that the Malfoys were up and likely making their way to the dining room, she was free to see to their chambers and ensure the beds were made and everything was as it should be.
Once the family suites were cleaned, Hermione took herself down to the kitchen to avail herself of some lunch. The House Elves prepared her a plate and soon she was joined by Hannah. The two of them ate with some haste. They never lingered over their meals for fear of being called away to perform some task for their employers.
As they were finishing up their meal, Mr Filch entered the kitchen to eat, and the two women nodded at him politely. He was a fine old man, at least in Hermione’s eyes, but a tad grouchy on occasion. She didn’t blame him, though. She would be that miserable too if she was constantly at Percy’s beck and call. If she was lucky, her chores would keep her busy for the majority of the day and she’d only have to interact with him once or twice.
Before she left, Hermione asked the House Elves to make up a plate for the librarian, having it sent up for the older woman.
‘If you’ll take care of the drawing room, Madam McGonagall has requested my assistance in the Library this afternoon,’ Hermione told Hannah as they left the kitchens.
Hannah smirked. ‘Of course,’ she quipped. ‘You and your books.’
Rolling her eyes, Hermione smiled at the other witch fondly. ‘They’re interesting. And there is always so much to clean there. That room gathers dust faster than anywhere else in the house.’
The two parted ways, Hannah ascending to the ground floor, and Hermione climbing further to the library on the third. It was a vast, sprawling chamber with floor to ceiling bookshelves, with ladders to reach the highest parts of the shelves. There was a large oak desk that stood in the middle of the room, a fireplace that helped to cut through the chill, and lavish armchairs with side-tables in various places throughout the space.
It was Hermione’s favourite room in the manor.
‘Hermione, how wonderful to see you.’
Minerva poked her head around the corner upon hearing her enter. Hermione saw that she was taking her lunch by the window, and sat in the armchair across from her for a moment.
‘How are you faring today?’ she asked the older woman.
‘As well as ever, I suppose,’ Minerva drawled with a grin. ‘You look well. How is that overbearing sycophant today?’
Obviously referring to Percy, Hermione shrugged and said, ‘I spoke with him once this morning, but have otherwise managed to avoid him. I let Hannah go and talk with him about the menu for this evening’s meal.’
Minerva chuckled. ‘Ah yes, the mysterious nameless guest,’ she said before tapping her finger thoughtfully against her lips. ‘Young Mr Weasley alerted me to expect them. Apparently they are quite fond of the written word, so I expect I will be seeing quite a lot of them here for the duration of their stay.’
‘Oh,’ Hermione said in surprise. The Malfoys barely used their well-stocked library, so it would be a novel experience to have someone in the house actually interested in making use of it.
‘This might mean that we will have to be a little more discreet when you are here to clean,’ the older woman warned.
Nodding in understanding, Hermione got to her feet once more. ‘I’d better get a move on with cleaning then,’ she announced. ‘Especially if our new guest is going to be spending an inordinate amount of time here.’
She wouldn’t be able to get the entire library cleaned by the time the guest arrived in the evening, but she would certainly ensure it looked tidy. After Minerva was finished with her meal, she joined Hermione in cleaning, focussing her efforts on the more rare books that Lucius Malfoy preferred to keep locked away. His Dark Arts books were completely out of bounds for anyone to touch other than the librarian or himself. While Hermione was curious about what was within them, she was not so daft as to attempt to try reading them. Who knew what nasty jinx was in place to ward off those who dared to disobey the Duke?
After a solid few hours of cleaning, Hermione took a short break to read a little under the careful supervision of the librarian. As Minerva was not a commoner, the older witch had received a far better magical instruction than Hermione, and was all too happy to pass on some of that knowledge in private. Ever the bookworm, Hermione hungered for the knowledge trapped between the tomes housed in the Malfoy family’s library.
If she was cautious, Minerva would allow her to borrow a book to read at night in her chambers once everyone else was asleep. She would practice her spells and charms, thrilled every time that she was successful. She desperately wished for an instructor so that she would be better able to gauge how she was progressing, but if she were to be caught practicing magic outside of her role, Hermione knew she would be harshly reprimanded. After all, what need did a maid have for complicated spells or potions?
As the sun began to slowly make its descent, Hermione thought it best to check on Hannah and how the other staff were faring with their preparations. Bidding Minerva farewell for the time being, she moved down towards the lower floor, but was stopped by Percy on the way.
‘Miss Granger?’ he said, stalking straight towards her.
‘How might I assist you?’ she asked, putting on an air of politeness. It didn’t matter if she disliked him––he was still the Malfoy family’s steward and her superior.
‘The Duchess would like to take her tea in the drawing room this afternoon, if you please,’ he informed her.
‘Very good,’ she said with a quick curtsey, using the request as an excuse for a hasty exit and making her way quickly to the kitchens.
The House Elves were very quick in throwing together the Duchess’s favourites, and soon Hermione was levitating the tea tray along with her carefully as she made her way back to the drawing room. On arrival she knocked and opened the door, surprised to see not only the Duchess, but her son, Draco, sitting in the armchairs by the fireplace. The room was a little warm from the fire that had been lit, but Hermione knew that Narcissa Malfoy preferred her house to be on the warmer side; she became cold easily.
‘How do you do, your grace?’ Hermione asked the Duchess as she lowered the tea tray onto the table between her and her son. ‘My lord,’ she added, bowing her head in deference to Draco Malfoy.
‘Ah, tea, lovely,’ Narcissa Malfoy said with barely a change in her cool expression. ‘Are there any of those little French sweets that I favour?’
‘There are, your grace,’ Hermione answered promptly, removing the glass casing that sat over the serving platter.
On it sat a variety of sweet French pastries and delicacies, all of them saturated in bright colour. It looked divine. She wondered how on earth the House Elves were able to so efficiently procure the treats. Did they make them , she wondered.
‘Pass me the tea, maid,’ Draco demanded rudely, startling her from her musings.
Pushing aside her automatic annoyance with the Malfoy heir, she hastened to comply, serving up the tea for both Malfoys as they preferred it, setting aside a small plate of the cakes and sweets for them both.
‘Thank you,’ Narcissa told her distractedly as she levitated some cross-stitching work towards herself. ‘Draco, manners.’
The young Malfoy rolled his eyes. ‘There is no need to thank the help, mother,’ he argued, but after she shot him a stony look, he turned his head to look at Hermione, eyeing her up and down crudely before grunting, ‘You have my thanks, maid.’
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she felt a cold sickness slide down into her stomach from the way Draco had eyed and spoken to her. Satisfied that she’d performed her task well, Hermione curtseyed and backed out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Once in the hall, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t even realised she was holding, shoulders sagging with relief to be out of the room. Draco Malfoy was as disagreeable as they came, far less polite than either of the senior Malfoys. She often wondered how he had come to be that way, but deduced it was likely due to his status as an only child.
Shaking off her discomfort, Hermione returned to some general tidying tasks, using spells to siphon dust off surfaces. She met with Hannah and Seamus, the young stablemaster for the Malfoy estate, and the three of them had a short tea break before the guest was due to arrive.
‘Aye, I heard his grace telling Weasley that this guest of theirs will likely want to ride while he stays,’ Seamus told them both. ‘I had to groom one of the larger mares in preparation. Not to mention the young master Draco riding his horse into the ground yesterday. He still hasn't recovered. I have half a mind to give the poor creature a Pepperup potion.’
‘That’s terrible,’ Hannah exclaimed. ‘He is truly horrid.’
‘Watch what you say in this house, Hannah,’ Hermione chastened her. ‘These walls have ears. Imagine if you were caught.’
Though she fully agreed with the other maids' assessment of the younger Malfoy, she was not about to give voice to those thoughts. Percy had a habit of lingering around corners or in doorways, and she’d not be caught out by him.
Later in the afternoon, just as the sun was beginning to creep past the horizon, there was a lot of excitement on the ground floor. Assuming it was the arrival of the mysterious guest, Hermione could not help but be drawn up to investigate. She stayed out of the way and quiet, observing from a distance, but still catching sight of the Malfoys' visitor.
The tall man in the entrance hall was nothing at all like Lucius Malfoy. His hair was long, reaching down to his shoulders, and as dark as the duke was blonde. He was pale of flesh, and had a striking countenance, intimidating in stature. Though he had sharp features and an impossibly long and hooked nose, the man had the most captivating midnight eyes she had ever seen. His clothes, while very fine in their make, austere and all black; nothing at all like the rich jewel tones that the Malfoys favoured.
It was strange, Hermione thought to herself. She’d never seen this man at the manor before, in all her time working there. The man in question did not smile once as he was greeted by the Duke or Duchess, and had even less time for their son. She viewed him as rather distant and severe; not the sort of man the gregarious Lucius Malfoy would associate with. Though to be fair, she hardly knew what to expect that morning when Percy Weasley had announced the visitor.
Spotting Minerva on the far side of the room away from the staircase, she quietly made her way over to join the older witch.
‘Who is he?’ Hermione asked.
‘That, my dear, is Potions Master Severus Snape,’ Minerva confided. ‘He is one of the most renowned Potion Masters in all of Europe, and is a foremost expert on the Dark Arts. I have met him a number of occasions before now, though it has been a long time indeed since he last came to the Manor.’
‘Oh,’ Hermione breathed, looking back over at him.
She was a little surprised to find his dark gaze was firmly locked onto her, and even more so when her stomach did a flip at the intensity of that gaze. Whoever this man was, Hermione had a feeling that things were about to become very interesting around there.
Casting her eyes downwards, she tried hard not to think about feeling as though he was penetrating her very being with his dark orbs, and quickly made her way down to the kitchens once more.
TBC