Conciliatrix

Hermione sighed as she moved through the mansion. Voldemort had killed most of the Manor's bound house elves off, and the remaining elves had gone into hiding. It had taken Hermione almost a week to get the house elves to trust her.

"Gumble apologises that the great Manor is dirty..."
"It's alright, Gumble," she soothed the agitated elf. "For now, why don't you work on getting the Kitchen, the Sitting Room, and the Library cleaned down here. I will try and find a room that I like, and when I do, I'll subject it to a quick cleaning charm while someone makes up the bed and puts my clothes away."

He bobbed up and down in rapid bows as he left the room. "Yes, Miss. Gumble will makes sure that things are done to Miss' wishes. Dinner is being served at the 7^th bell in the Sitting Room." Hermione rolled her eyes at the show the elf had put on. While she was still uncomfortable with the fact that they were virtually slaves, she had adapted her outlook over the years, and as long as their masters were good to them, she did not raise a fuss. The few elves at Malfoy Manor were all friendly, and - unlike Dobby - spoke highly of the Malfoy family - but not at all of Lord Voldemort. She moved down the hallway, and up the stairs.

She could see that it would have been a beautiful house if it had been kept up. She skirted a large dark stain on the floor, not really wanting to know what it was. She couldn't blame the Malfoys for not coming back here... not to the place that Voldemort had used as his lair, not to the place where Narcissa had met her demise at his hands... Draco was off in America at university and Lucius had recently left for France, leaving the grand old house empty. She stopped at a statue that looked incredibly similar to the Winged Victory of Samothrace she had once seen in the Louvre. She wondered if it was a copy but quickly chided herself. The Malfoys would never own a mere copy, would they?

She walked along the third floor corridor, peering into the various rooms that she passed, until she had nearly reached the end. She looked at a heavy panelled door - it was the only one closed on this floor.The hinges squeaked from long disuse as she cautiously pressed it open.

It was a dark room, with dark carpet and even darker wainscoting to match the door. Long shelves crammed with many books lined the walls. A quick scan of the titles revealed that they were largely about Potions. And there were three other doors - bathroom, closet, and... She opened the third door, a Potions Laboratory?

** These must be Snape's rooms when he comes to visit. **

The empty suite of rooms was in a surprisingly good state of repair. Though, remembering the Potions Master's abhorrence of disorder and grime, she wouldn't have been at all surprised if it turned out that these rooms had a permanent dust repelling charm cast on them.

Turning to leave the room (** I can't stay in these rooms, they are far too personal.**), she tripped over a lump in the rug beneath her feet. As she lay sprawled on the floor nursing her newly scraped elbow, she noticed a small box underneath the bed - hard to see, and even harder to reach. Her pain forgotten in her curiosity, she called out a quick "Accio".

The small, nondescript box flew into her hand. **Well, they do say that curiosity killed the cat...** She could almost hear Draco Malfoy's voice reply in the most patronizing voice he had: "Honestly Granger, don't you know anything? 'Satisfaction brought it back!'".

Lucius had said that anything in his house was hers - mi casa es tu casa, if you will.

Still sitting on the floor, she opened it. It contained two piles of what appeared to be letters, each bound with a dark ribbon. They were of varying thicknesses and some of the paper was very worn and old. Her inquisitive nature took over and it was with little qualm that she opened the topmost letter. It was addressed to 'S'.

S,

I regret leaving last night without a farewell. However, you must understand that I cannot be with you. You know that if I stay with you I will do you a terrible injustice - I will not force you down my path, it is a road that was not meant to be taken. I want nothing more than to remain by your side but circumstances will not allow this. You are my light. I will not have you dimmed. I care for you deeply and I refuse to cause you harm. I beg of you to understand me. Do not contact me. Remember that I love you always.

- L

Her mind buzzed. ** 'S' was obviously Snape, seeing as the letters were in what she suspected were his rooms, but who was it from? And why was she leaving Snape?**

Feeling only a slight pang of guilt for invading their privacy, she skimmed the next few letters...they were the same - promises of love, regrets about leaving. One caught her eye.

S,

Stop looking for me! I know you are searching for me, wanting to know what has gone wrong. Everything has gone wrong, and there is nothing that I can do. I will not have you harmed, so desist, please. You say that I cannot know the pain that you feel. Yes, yes I can. I can clearly remember that day that I saw you...that day that I saw you as something other than the annoying 2nd year who followed me around. I saw your potential. You gazed at me with those dark eyes full of adoration, and from that moment I was yours. Our romance may only have begun last year, but you have held my heart since I was fourteen...I cannot stand to see it broken...If you persist on tracking me down, in following me...I am trying to save you, can't you see that? If you find me, you will be taken. I will not be able to save you this time, carus.

Remember, my heart is yours,

-L.

**This floor is really hard...** mused Hermione. **I'll find myself a room with a nice, comfy bed, and finished these there...they're so sad, and I'd like to find out more about this 'L'.**

She picked the stack and herself up off the floor and walked back out into the hallway, almost automatically walking into the suite next to Snape's.

**This is...acceptable.**

The room was painted a warm, creamy colour, with a rather bohemian flowered theme dominating the furnishings. The bed was easily a queen, and was not yet made up. Walking back over to the door, still holding the precious letters, she called for Gumble. Once she and the house elves had made the room liveable, she stretched out on the bed, and got down to the serious business of reading the letters. They were so compelling, so heartbreaking. Her long repressed Romantic side reveled in them, committing every wistful word to memory and every reported action and declaration of love to heart.