~Asphodel~

chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. This fiction is purely for my own enjoyment and yours. No money is being made by me or anyone else from this fiction.

Hermione fumed as she stomped down the Manor hallway. How dare he? That insufferable boy! Man, her subconscious reminded her. I don't care, she viciously thought. Malfoy can stuff it. It would do him some good to flounder on his own a bit. Besides, Hermione wanted to spend some time with her new daughters. She made her way to the kitchen, ignoring the fact that she found it easily, as though she had done with many times before. When she reached the kitchen door, she roughly pushed it, causing it to fly open with a bang. She marched through the door and stopped. Three house elves stood around the kitchen, cooking, washing dishes, and sweeping. Hermione at once opened her mouth to tell them they were free to go, when she realized they were all wearing clean little outfits. One of them was even wearing one of Hermione's poorly knitted hats. These were free elves!

"Missy Hermione!" cried the elves, rushing forward. "We is seeing Master Draco has upset you and we will make your favorite pancakes!" Hermione's anger disappeared instantly and her mouth, which had dropped open in shock, turned into a beaming smile.

"Thank you! But I don't want to trouble you."

"Not at all, Missy Hermione! We is loving to please Mrs. Malfoy, who set us free and gave us a home." Hermione's tense shoulders dropped and she let go of the last of her anger. These were free elves and she had helped them. Suddenly she found herself smiling at all of them.

"Thank you, dear ones! That sounds wonderful." She sat down at the small table in the kitchen. At first she wondered why the table was so small, but then realized that the Malfoys probably had a dining room. They probably never ate in the kitchen. The pancakes were finished in minutes and as soon as Hermione put the first forkful in her mouth, she groaned aloud. "Gods! These are amazing! Thank you Minnie!" She exclaimed, the name of the elf chef popping into her mind just as the names of her daughters had. The odd feeling this gave her sharply reminded her of her predicament. As lovely as this was, it wasn't her real life. She needed to get back to Hogwarts, to her friends—

Suddenly her eyes flew open and she smacked her hand to her forehead. Her friends! If she and Malfoy were here in this messed up reality, shouldn't her friends be here too? They were in the potions accident too. Immediately she straightened and began wolfing down her breakfast as fast as possible, as she often did when she had a project to work on. The house elves didn't comment on Hermione's sudden attack on her food, so she assumed they were used to it.

I'll owl them as soon as I finish and have them meet me in Diagon Alley, she thought to herself, her mind buzzing with plans. She didn't want to invite them to the Manor, no matter what this strange world believed. Hermione was not and would never be a Malfoy.

Satisfied with her plans, Hermione nodded to herself and jumped up from the table. The house elves immediately began clearing away the mess. Hermione thanked them again for her lovely breakfast, then dashed out of the kitchen and up the stairs, relying on her instincts to guide her. She was not disappointed. She walked confidently up the stairs and down the hall and found herself at the door of the bedroom she and Malfoy had woken up in.

Hermione blushed, thinking of that morning and felt a small burning sensation in her stomach as she remembered Malfoy's arm wrapped around her. She shook her head violently. No, she told herself fiercely in her head. Any feelings she was having was the result of being in this world, not because she was actually feeling anything for the blond git. She shuddered. She'd rather wake up next to a blast-end skrewt.

Having firmly banished any untoward thoughts or feelings, Hermione marched into the room and without a glance at the giant bed, she crossed the bedroom and entered a doorway to an adjoining room. She knew at once that this was her private room. The wall paper, hangings, carpet and decorations were all red and gold, the colors of Gryffindor. There were several large oak bookshelves overflowing with books, a large desk covered in bits of parchment, quills and ink bottles, and even, to Hermione's great surprise, a muggle radio. There was also a small vanity in one corner of the room, next to another door. Hermione headed straight for this door, ignoring the urge to thumb through the great stacks of books everywhere.