Necessary Evil

Chapter 1: The First Meeting

The manor had not changed since the last time she had visited some five years ago. It rose up from the impossibly green valley, surrounded on all sides by rolling hills topped with grey skies. The stone walls were still covered in leafy vines, and the pretentious albino peacocks were pecking around the fountain centrepiece. A soft breeze toyed with the tops of the trees that sat on either side of the house and towards the fields beyond. The air was warm, almost humid, as if this plot of land in Wiltshire had no care that the rest of Britain was wet and miserable.

From behind the tall wrought-iron gates, Hermione Granger gazed up at the building with a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Despite the balminess of the air, she shivered as the breeze licked at her stocking-clad legs. She glanced at her watch, squared her shoulders, and then presented her wand to the bars with a shaking hand. They melted away as if they were made from ice and her wand from fire, and she took her first shaky steps forward.

The peacocks took no notice as she stumbled past them, her sensible black work shoes clicking melodiously on the uneven ground. The sound of their ruffling feathers rang around the open space, and a sudden cracking noise forced Hermione's attention to the front door. A small creature had appeared on the threshold, dressed in a freshly pressed pillow case with the letter M elegantly monogramed onto its chest. Its ears flopped downwards like a hound's, and its nose was long and pointy. As she climbed the short flight of steps, a large grin broke over the creature's face. Its eyes, giant and yellow in its relatively small face, lit up at the sight of its guest before the House Elf hurriedly fell into a very low bow.

"Miss Granger!" The creature squeaked, its face still pointed towards the ground. "Miksy is so pleased to meet you, Miss!"

The young woman blinked once before collecting herself and clearing her throat. "The pleasure is all mine, Miksy."

The House Elf's back audibly cracked as she straightened quickly. She clasped her hands in front of her, and began to wring them at an incredible speed.

"Mast-Master Malfoy is right...is right this way, Miss," Miksy's impossibly wide eyes blinked rapidly as her small chest heaved. Walking backwards so as not to break eye contact with Hermione, the elf snapped her fingers and the front doors swung open.

Hermione clutched her papers tightly to her chest as she followed Miksy into the dark hallway. She squinted as the doors shut behind them and her eyes struggled to adjust to the dark.

"Apologies, Miss," the house elf lamented, "Master is used to the darks of Azkaban, Miss. He is not wanting the light, Miss." Miksy continued to wring her hands as she led Hermione into a sitting room off to the right of the entrance.

"It's fine, Miksy," she murmured as her right shin found the edge of a heavy hall table. Eyes watering, Hermione continued through the darkened interior until she felt Miksy's small, cool hands usher her into a large armchair.

"I is getting you tea, Miss," Miksy squeaked. Before Hermione could open her mouth to respond, there was a crack and Miksy was gone.

Hermione sighed, a lock of frizzy brown hair bouncing away from her face briefly, only to settle over her right eye once more. She swiped it impatiently behind her ear and lit her wand, holding it slightly aloft to take in her surroundings. She was standing in the middle of a modestly-sized sitting room. The walls were painted a soft grey which glowed almost blue beneath the light of her wand. In the middle of the room was a matching lounge suite consisting of a white three-seater couch and two matching armchairs. Had she been anywhere else, Hermione might have described the room as 'cosy'. She turned slowly on the spot, taking in the ornate fireplace and mantle carved from white marble. She also noticed the collection of trinkets; doubtlessly priceless and probably arranged by someone who had been paid far too much to do so. Above her hung a chandelier, the diamonds glinting and swinging softly though the air was still. Hermione wondered what it looked like when it was lit. With a sigh, she brought her gaze back down to the coffee table placed in the exact centre of the room. Hermione chose the armchair that was angled slightly so she could keep an eye on the doorway, and set about organising her papers, her wand lit and held precariously in her teeth.