It had been a few hours since Hermione had been kidnapped. She was completely lost in the Manor. Finally, after what seemed to be a few hours, Hermione found herself sitting in a corner, cold and uncomfortable. Why me? Hermione thought. I already miss them. Ron, sweet Ron who thought it would be a good idea for lunch together today. Rose, who is forever annoying Hugo with her knowledge. And Hugo… poor Hugo. He’ll be the one to understand least of my disappearance.
Hermione realized she was doing no good by sulking in a corner. She had to at least try to escape. The only problem was that she did not know where she was. She disliked her next idea, but it was necessary. “Uh… House-elf?” whispered Hermione. Nothing happened. Hermione was about to sit, defeated in the corner, when she heard the familiar crack of the House-elf entering the room. In front of her stood a House-elf.
“You called, Miss?” asked the House-elf in a high-pitched voice.
“Where is the bathroom?” asked Hermione kindly.
“Come, Miss,” the House-elf said, leading Hermione to a bathroom. She was closer to one than she thought.
“Thank you. What’s your name?” Hermione asked.
“Woedisis,” he replied.
“Thank you, Woedisis.” The House-elf disappeared with a loud ‘crack’.
Hermione walked into the bathroom. It was smaller than she imagined. “A window, I need a window…” Hermione laughed out loud. “I am talking to myself!” she said in disbelief.
She looked up and saw a window. Her jaw dropped. That was where the window was located? On the ceiling?
“Leave it to Malfoy to make things complicated.”
“Yes, I tend to do that a lot, don’t I?” Hermione spun around and saw Draco’s arrogant face. “Trying to escape, Granger?” She scowled. “Malfoy.”
Draco sighed. “Granger, you can’t escape. You don’t think I’ve… Granger-proofed the Manor? It’s no secret you’re an exceptionally good witch, so I’ve protected my home with bonds you couldn’t even imagine.”
Hermione didn’t acknowledge the “compliment.” “But… you can’t imprison me! I… my family…” Draco shook his head, not in the mood to deal with emotional women. He turned around–straight into Pansy. “Oi, there! Watch where you’re going!” she said angrily. “Granger! Oh, Granger? Come out from your hiding place. I’d like to do the Glamour now, if you don’t mind. Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Pansy said maliciously.
“Or are you excited that you finally have the chance to use your wand on me?” asked Hermione.
“You know,” said Pansy, “that may be it. Oh, that reminds me of some spells I learned while in Hogwarts. You know those custom spell books and whatnot. I’m positive I can remember one curse I’d love to use on you.”
“But then we’d all get hurt,” Hermione said sweetly, outsmarting Pansy. Pansy narrowed her eyes on her. “Too true.”
Hermione and Pansy stood ten feet apart. Hermione grew fidgety; the room they stood in was the room in which she was tortured nineteen years ago.
“Okay, Granger. Don’t be too surprised when you see this Glamour. It might make you look a tad prettier than you currently are,” snorted Pansy.
“Oh, please! We are adults now, aren’t we? Why are you being so immature?” Hermione asked, exasperated. “Just how much experience do you have with Glamours?” Hermione asked, trying not to show her anxiety.
“Well, I’ve been practicing for a while.” Pansy noticed Hermione’s fidgeting.
“Please be still.” Pansy began reciting an incantation longer than the usual incantations. Hermione started fidgeting again and Pansy’s eyes snapped open. “Granger, you must be still!” “Oh, so you can’t do magic without everything being perfectly still? Great! Now I know who not to take into battle,” said Hermione.
“Please, Granger. Don’t think I don’t know about the… incident that occurred here a few years ago.” Hermione forced herself to keep her wand in her pocket.
Pansy began the incantation again. Suddenly, Hermione felt her face shifting. It was painful. She gasped. Pansy probably enjoyed the pain he afflicted on her. She felt her hair growing longer at a rapid speed. It tickled. Hermione would have laughed, but the prickling sensation in her face was preventing her from doing so. Draco stood in the hall watching Hermione’s transformation.
The pain stopped abruptly. Hermione touched her hair hesitantly and pulled it to the side to look at it. It was long and smooth and nearly blonde. Pansy had a smug look on her face. “You see, Granger? You had nothing to worry about. You can trust me being around you with a wand. For now.”
“I look completely different.”
“Yes, that was the point,” said Pansy.
“You look disguised enough,” agreed Draco, stepping forward. Hermione was not disappointed for the lack of compliments. She did not expect a real compliment to ever come from his mouth.
“Does she look like a pure-blood? I mean, she’ll never look like a Slytherin pure-blood, but–”
“Not that I’d want to,” Hermione retorted.
“I think it would suit you very well,” said Draco. He turned to Pansy. “You did well.”
“It’s nearly tea-time,” Hermione said, looking at the grandfather clock in the room.
“Go,” said Draco, waving his hand. “Show her to the kitchens, Pansy.”
“Come, Granger. And maybe you could show the House-elves the ways of the Mudblood! Oh, that would be interesting.”
“That was uncalled for, Parkinson,” said Hermione flatly. “Oh. Oh, it is still Parkinson, right? I figured you wouldn’t be married yet, not with that ugly attitude.”
Pansy’s mask flickered, but her expression did not change.