My Life As A House-Elf

My Life As a House-elf

Chapter Five - The Enchantment

* * * *

Draco stood still and stared, dazedly trying to grasp hold of the situation. He was dreaming, he thought, and this was a caught in a terrible, incredibly vivid nightmare. His House-elf was missing and his father was probably going to blame him, and Hermione Granger was in his bedroom, dressed in nothing but a rug and bathed in soft shafts of moonlight. And the worst part was, he was beginning to find the situation strangely appealing.

"What are you doing in my room?" he asked, sounding annoyed, suspicious and bemused at the same time.

"I told you," Hermione said crossly, her temper flaring. "I'm your House-elf."

"If you insist." A smirk slowly curled up Draco's lip. He found himself slowly seizing control of the situation. "I normally have half-dressed girls in my bedroom, actually. I never expected you, though ..."

"Shut up!" Hermione nearly shrieked. "This is not what you think." She paused, taking a deep breath, and straightened her hair. "First, I need some clothes. And then," she shot a poisonous glare at Draco, "I'll tell you why I'm here."

"You do that, Granger," Draco said, scowling slightly. He was beginning to think she was there for a much more sinister motive. The Malfoys had enough enemies to be considered an endangered species, and what better way to settle a score with an old enemy than murder the heir of the fortune in his own bed? Draco reached underneath his pillow for his wand, threw a cautionary glance at Hermione, and made his way towards the wardrobe.

Hermione watched as he flung the doors open. "Nothing black, thank you," she said primly, her voice subtly hostile. "It seems your wardrobe doesn't consist of any other colour."

"Tough luck," he said, tossing her a black bathrobe, with the letters DM monogrammed in silver near the collar. Hermione caught it, and, throwing an aggravated glance at Draco, she quietly made her way to the dressing screen. She didn't bother thanking him. The bemused smile he wore on his face was just inviting a severe slap.

* * * *

"So," Draco summarized, "You broke a few very valuable, very expensive goblin-crafted potion bottles, the bugger cursed you to spend your life as a House-elf, you were auctioned off, Father bought you and you're now my personal servant to command."

Hermione spun around sharply. "I am not!"

Draco ignored her statement, and carried on, "So that explains why Mother was detecting Mudblood traces everywhere. It was you." He threw her a glance, gazing from underneath his slightly closed eyelids. "I knew I suspected something."

"Well, now," Hermione deduced, tightening the cord around her waist, "the curse is obviously over, so I'll bother your dear mummy no more with unpleasant smells. I'm leaving. Do you have any Floo Powder?"

Draco was silent. He was staring at her in a very unnerving way, his face expressionless, yet his eyes glittering with something more sinister. Hermione shivered slightly, strongly reminded of wolves in that stare. "What?" she demanded.

"I don't think you're leaving," Draco uttered suddenly.

Hermione gaped. "Excuse me? I'd love to stay longer in your charming little hellhole, Malfoy, but I have better things to do than play nurse to a spoilt brat like you. Now where is the Floo Powder?!"

"There is no Floo Powder," he answered simply, voice distantly calm. "The fireplaces in Malfoy Manor cannot access the Floo Network except with the presence of a Malfoy. The exits and entrances are guarded by thirteen different hexes and curses that cannot be disabled by anyone but a Malfoy. You cannot get in - or out - without someone of Malfoy lineage."

Hermione's shocked stare slowly melted into one of threat and menace. "Then you will help me," she murmured, her voice low and threatening, close to a growl.

A slow, sinister smirk curled around Draco's lip. "I'd rather not, you know."

Hermione stepped closer to the bed. She took subtle pleasure in seeing Draco flinch and slowly back away. "You will help me," she cried, her voice close to a shriek, "or I'll make you."

Draco shook his head calmly. "You forget who has the wand here, Granger," he flicked his wand as if to accentuate this. "Besides, what makes you think your curse is over?"

Hermione was so stunned by the absurdity of this question, she was rendered speechless for a few seconds. "Maybe you haven't noticed," she gasped, "but look - human arms, human limbs, human fingers, and the sheer absence of abnormally large ears ... do I look like a House-elf to you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't say so about the ears, but no."

"There you go, then."

"But," Draco interjected, "what makes you think you will remain a human tomorrow morning? Who knows ... you could be a human by night, a House-elf by day. Some curses work that way, you know," he added, as if emphasizing Hermione's lack of observation.

Hermione was rendered speechless once again. She tried to grasp hold of her words, but instead found herself losing her grip on reality. Everything Malfoy said could be right. She wasn't cured ... yet. Even if she got to Diagon Alley, there wasn't any chance anyone would recognize her. Not as a House-elf.

Draco's voice brought her crashing back into reality. "Besides," he said, "if my Father found you gone tomorrow morning, I will be punished for losing another House-elf." His grin was sly, and wicked. "And I like the idea of having the smartest girl in Hogwarts as my personal servant."

"I am not!" Hermione said hotly. "If there's a remote chance that I'm a House-elf tomorrow, I will not follow any of your stupid demands. It's about time the House-elves were treated accordingly," she added with a huff. "No longer will they be treated like slaves. I'll make sure they have their own rights."

"House-elf rights?" Draco nearly fell out of his bed laughing. "Has the curse affected your brain, Granger? Because I thought you said something about House-elves having rights."

"Yes, I did," Hermione insisted, growing more and more impatient and irritated with each passing second. She looked away in a flurry of pure disdain. "Of course you wouldn't understand. You're an insensitive, selfish brat who cares for nothing but himself. I'd pity you, Malfoy, but the mood is gone."

Draco dismissed her statement with a wave of his hand. "It works for me."

They stood in mutual silence, Hermione slowly simmering like a low fire dancing upon hot coals, Draco steadily encasing himself in a layer of cold, like gathering hoarfrost on the first night of winter. Neither one of them spoke for a very long time.

Hermione seated herself upon a plush, velvet couch. "Well. I'm staying awake till morning, thank you. I want to determine if the curse is over." She threw Draco a warning glance. "But if I stay human ... you're going to help me get out of here, Malfoy. I don't think your parents will appreciate the fact that you have a Mudblood witch in your bedroom."

He waved his hand, smiling slightly. "Of course. I'll wait with you." He didn't add what would happen if it happened otherwise.

* * * *

Hermione found herself leaning drowsily on the couch after a few hours of waiting, head leaning on the back of her hand as she stared out the window. The stars rolled across the dark horizon, gathering in the west, the moon descending steadily from her lofty perch. Hermione became faintly aware of Draco moving around in the room, and heard the gentle clinking of glass.

She felt a tap on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Draco, holding two glass goblets in hand, and a clear bottle of translucent, rose-red liquid. "Have some," he said quietly, pouring the liquid into one of the glasses. "It keeps the senses awake. You wouldn't want to fall asleep while waiting for your curse to be lifted, wouldn't you?"

He saw the doubtful, suspicious look on her face. "Don't worry," he smiled. "It's not poison. It wouldn't really help to have a dead body in my room, wouldn't it?" And, as if to reassure her, he poured himself a glass of the elixir and took a sip.

Hermione stared cautiously into her goblet. Blinking slightly, she took a sip, and felt her senses buzz awake. It was like Butterbeer, except with more electricity, and with less taste. Like white wine compared to beer, she thought. She shook out her hair, feeling the electricity course down the ends of her tresses.

Draco seated himself comfortably on the couch next to her, sipping his elixir calmly, reclining slightly into the plush fabric. He was staring off into space. Hermione slowly became aware of how close they were sitting, so near to each other without touching. Draco seemed oblivious to this. Hermione stood her ground, feeling the elixir's strange effects course through her ... electrical currents dancing down her spine, and a deep warmth slowly spreading across her body, before she slowly edged away. The sensation gradually faded.

After a few more hours of silent waiting, the sun peeked from behind the soda-coloured hills, stretching pale shafts of light across the violet sky, chasing away the darkness.

Hermione felt a jolt against her body. To her horror, her pale skin was gaining a slight greenish tinge, mottled in parts, and she felt herself shrinking down to a smaller size. Her hair shrank back as if it was never there, and her ears stretched pass their usual length, tapering to a point.

She stared in horrified despair at her hands, then at Draco's knowing half-smile.

"Good morning, Hattie," he grinned.

* * * *