My Life As A House-Elf

My Life As A House-Elf
Chapter Nine: The Many Ways to Slay A Dragon

[A/N: Immense thank you's to those who reviewed. I loff you all. :) And an infinate thank you to my BETA, Katie, for sparing me a huge deal of embarassment. Thanks. ;)
Enjoy the fic!~]

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Inside the House-elves´ Mess Hall, about a dozen elves were talking rapidly in hushed, quiet tones, animated underneath the late morning sunlight streaming through the small windows. Most of them looked confused, others miserable, and the remainder enthusiastic. They waved their thin arms in elaborate gestures as they spoke, all chattering at the same, hasty speed.

Gilly and Topsy were among them. The look on Topsy´s face was mournful and slightly horrified, as if she had been worrying over the current matter for quite some time. Her ears drooped, and the hem of her tea towel had been twisted so many times it looked wrinkled in places.

Gilly, on the other hand, looked vibrant and refreshed, eyes glittering with a spark of hope, as if he had been anticipating this talk for quite some time. He was listening carefully to everything the other elves had to say.

They were discussing Hattie. They were discussing her a lot, lately.The House-elves who were in the Mess Hall last night were stirred by Hermione´s speech, while the rest seemed unsure about the whole thing. "The new elf Hattie speaks the truth," one of the older House-elves said rapidly in the House-elves´ native tongue.

"We have been slaves for too long. All our other brothers aren´t mistreated like we are here," another older elf, with glistening button eyes, ventured. He turned to the rest of the rest of the House-elves for opinions.

"Why does Hattie speak against the Masters?" Topsy, who had been born into service, said in English. She had trouble keeping up with the rapid elfish tongue. She looked doubtfully at the others, who shifted uncomfortably, wondering the same thing. None of them had dared before.

The older elf turned to her, slightly frowning in thought. "Maybe Hattie wants to be free." He shivered, and so did the rest. "It is a terrible and beautiful idea. Freedom is the heaviest burden to carry, and only the bravest carry it."

"Then Hattie is brave," Gilly volunteered. A few House-elves saw this, and nodded. Very, very brave, they thought. Very brave, but also very foolish.

Suddenly, the doors crashed open, and a very stormy-looking Hattie thundered into the room. The others gasped and blinked when they saw the look on her face. She looked particularly livid with fury, and some of the more admiring House-elves looked up to her in expectant awe, anticipating a motivational speech.

"Hattie," Topsy asked uncertainly, "what´s the matter?"

Hermione glared at her, and Topsy withered. Hermione sighed and dropped her gaze, feeling a little guilty for causing such a scene. She recounted on what had happened earlier that morning, what started it, and seethed over the memory.

Draco had risen from bed only a few moments after sunrise, blinking in the bright sunlight and at Hermione, who had just turned back into a House-elf. When he recalled the night before, he groaned and crawled out of bed, sleepily shambling towards the bathroom, brushing past Hermione, barely noticing she was standing there. He muttered "G´morgue," before the bathroom door slammed behind him.

"Well, you certainly are cheery this morning," Hermione remarked, more to herself as splashing water could audibly be heard from behind the door. She did what any House-elf would automatically do, and immediately set herself to straightening her Master´s bed, folding the sheets and arranging the pillows, dutifully smoothing out any creases that dared to mar the perfection of her work.

As Hermione stood back to admire her effort, her eyes dreamily strayed towards the animated calendar that hung upon the opposite wall.

The current date shone in gold amongst the rest of the black numbers, standing out starkly, and at the sight of it, Hermione gasped. She gazed at the bathroom door, and waited patiently for Draco to open it.

When he emerged from the bathroom, the words Hermione was bursting to say suddenly came to a temporary halt. He was dressed in shades of white and grey, with brilliant smatterings of silver. Considering the sheer amount of black in his wardrobe, this was quite a change. He looked striking and exquisitely decent, Hermione thought, and he seemed to subtly acknowledge this. But what surprised her most was the expression on his face.

"You´re certainly silent this morning," Draco said, barely glancing at her as he deposited his towel in the laundry basket, all signs of the nightmare-shaken boy the night before completely gone. He gave a quick smile, which faded as he adjusted his collar, but lingered on his lips when he peered at himself in a mirror. "I expected you to create a row, having being forced to clean up my bed like a meagre slave. Aren´t you going to berate me about how unreservedly cruel and heartless I´m being?"

Hermione found it hard to answer this. He looked strangely pleasant, Hermione thought. Head cocked to one side, she remarked how different he looked from his arrogant, haughty persona. But then again, she had never seen him outside school before. She preferred this Draco more. Subsequently, she felt faintly surprised at herself, that she would prefer Draco at all.

Delighted to see that he was in good spirits, Hermione knew it made asking for her request much easier. "Today is the 31^st of July," she mentioned.

He cast her a silvery glance. "Oh, really? Congratulations for noticing. What´s so special about it, pray tell?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Today´s Harry´s birthday," she said. "I need permission to send him a card, a letter maybe, to wish him ... a ... happy ..." her voice trailed off when she caught sight of Draco´s expression, and blinked in astonishment.

He had been looking faintly good-natured a moment ago. Now he looked as if Hermione had slapped him. The amiable sheen in his eye had vanished, to be replaced by a dark, stormy look, his mouth curled into a scowl. The sheer transformation startled Hermione.

Draco, who had been looking so pleasant before, now looked likely to do something very unpleasant

"Oh, I expect you want to send your darling scar face a birthday greeting," he said, his voice now thick with sinister mockery. "From his little devoted mistress. How touching. Do you want pink card, or do you want something a little more formal, say perfumed paper? I expect you want some crimson ink to draw little hearts with ..."

Hermione gaped in shock. She glared in bewilderment and fury, her fists slowly curling into fists. "Excuse me?" she gasped, trying to keep the angry tremor out of her voice. "I wanted to send a birthday greeting, not a Valentine! And what´s the matter with you, anyway?"

Draco rolled his eyes snidely, and looked away as scornfully as he could. "Oh, nothing. At least I don´t waste parchment by filling it with smarmy love quotes. You probably didn´t know that Potter´s already gone gadding off with Weasley´s brat sister, did you? He´s already got that freckled limpet clinging to his shoulder, why should you?"

Hermione shook with livid fury. "You know what, Malfoy?" she cried shrilly. "It´s no wonder everyone hates you. You´re despicable." And she stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

After a few minutes of rampaging haphazardly through the Malfoys´ cavernous halls, and vandalizing a few statues or two, Hermione finally managed to find a moment to calm down. When she did, she sunk into despair. She was hoping to send Harry a birthday greeting, something light-hearted and pleasant, to throw his mind off the horrible Dursleys, even if it meant for a few minutes. She wasn´t planning to tell him about her current predicament, and make him worry for no reason. She was planning to post the Ministry letter as well. Seeing Draco´s light spirits, she thought he would let her borrow his owl.

But Draco´s radical assumptions didn´t help at all. She wondered what set him off. He had been acting so pleasantly, Hermione thought, and she was vaguely surprised to find that she had considered him almost charming, until, of course Harry was mentioned ...

Until Harry was mentioned.

Oh, Hermione thought, scowling. She kicked the carpet irritably. It´s about Harry. She gave a tremendous exasperated, angry sigh, made her way towards the House-elves´ Mess Hall, where she hoped to find solace.

And there she was, surrounded by tens of pairs of curious eyes.

"Hattie?" Topsy asked. "Is something wrong?"

A million things, Hermione thought to herself. Too many things. But she forced a weak smile at Topsy, saying, "No, nothing´s wrong. Anything I can do here?" She hoped the haze of duty would deaden her anger towards Draco.

"Well," Topsy said, biting her lower lip, "Master Draco usually takes his breakfast in his room at about this time, and he likes his tea -"

But Hermione didn´t stay around to listen to how Draco liked his tea. At the mention of his name, she groaned and bristled off, thundering out of the doors as abruptly as she came in.

"Um," Topsy said weakly. Everyone else just stared.

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Down the steps of the Manor, next to the forests and meadows that marked the boundry of the Malfoy estate, was a well-kept Topiary Garden.

The Malfoys were immensely proud the Garden. Teams of gardeners would work throughout the day and night to keep it in tip-top shape. They meticulously cared for the topiaries, making sure they were always perfectly trimmed, ensured the hedges were continuously clipped, the gravel paths raked and adequately arranged, the rose bowers perfect, and the large hedge maze in the centre of the Gardens perfectly sculpted. It was one of the Manor´s greatest prides.

Down among the topiaries and clipped carpet lawns, Hermione was busying herself by mauling a small peacock topiary. When she was done with it, it resembled anything but a peacock. It looked more like a splintered pile of leaf and twig. Hermione gasped for breath, surprised and satisfied at what she had done, sitting down quietly while her rage died down.

Curse him, Hermione thought furiously, rubbing her sore feet where she had caught a few splinters while trampling on the now-ruined topiary. Curse him with all the horrible curses, even the ones that don´t exist yet.

The sky above was already showing signs of rain, the clouds hanging like a vast sheet of silver over the earth. The silver matched Draco´s eyes. Hermione´s scowl grew wider and she hugged her knees, sobbing a little, occasionally prodding the destroyed topiary with her toe, before she stopped and leaned against a hedge, eyes closed.

She heard voices.

They were faint at first, and were coming audibly from behind the hedge, but Hermione´s elfin ears could scarcely pick up the conversation. There was the sound of rustling bushes.

"So this is the entrance it will use to get into the Manor?" a man´s slightly hoarse voice asked.

"Yeah. It´s very well hidden, no? Too bad we didn´t discover this route sooner," a second voice answered. "Our first man decided to use the chimney to get in, and look what happened to him."

Maybe it was Hermione´s imagination, but she thought these voices sounded very sinister. She didn´t like the way they spoke - whispering and menacing, as if they belonged to very evil, very poisonous serpents. Hermione had nothing against snakes, actually. Just the human ones. She felt uncomfortable just listening to them.

There was acold chuckle from the first speaker. "A perfectly good waste. What did you say happened to him?"

"There was an Inferno Hex laced around the fireplace," the second speaker answered, the sound of a shudder in his voice. "And the poor fellow was blown up the chimney in a searing jet of fire."

Hermione froze.

"Are you sending in any more of these so-called ... `professionals´?" the first speaker asked in subtle disdain.

"Well, not human ones, of course," the second one mumbled uncomfortably. "But I assure you, sir, this creature we have isn´t going to fail. It has been trained in the art of murder. It will make no mistakes. Lucius Malfoy will get what he deserves, and he won´t ever suspect it´s you - us."

"Good, good," the first voice said icily, suggesting a cruel smile. "Precisely what I want. Three nights from now, that young Malfoy brat of a child will be as good as dead."

The two voices shared a sinister laugh.

Hermione wascompletely stunned. After a few minutes, there the sound of rustling leaves, like bushes being pushed aside. "Let´s get out of here. It looks like it´s going to rain." Their voices steadily faded behind the layers of hedges, muffled by leaf and neatly-manicured shrub.

There was a brief, silent pause, still and thick as chilled custard. Hermione´s glazed state of mind barely acknowledged the rain-laced breeze that whispered through the topiaries, or the faint roll of thunder in the distant, gathering clouds.

Without further hesitation, she dashed towards the Manor.

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