"There are many kinds of evil bastard, Granger. My dear father happens to be the worst sort. So mind your tongue until we' re back at school." He shook his finger at her, as if she were a wayward child. "I won't tell you again."
Hermione was left her slumped against the wall of the corridor, which was where she remained until Draco knocked on the door of his father's study and disappeared inside.
Oh, Draco Malfoy certainly qualified as an Evil Bastard, but he left Hermione wondering exactly what category he fell into.
**
The remainder of the day saw Toolip escorting Hermione to a guest bedroom located in the eastern wing of the house, where she would remain until her eventual departure for Hogwarts the next morning. The old elf had rattled off directions and other bits of navigational and historical information as Hermione trudged along, too deep in thought to pay real attention.
The guest bedroom was surprisingly sparse, but still ostentatious, by Hermione' s modest standards. Her eyes passed wearily over the teak furniture and the meters of velvet, satin, brocade, and silk that adorned the chambers.
It was a Guest Bedroom For Girls, Hermione surmised, judging by the liberal usage of pinks and cream. The male rooms were probably done in masculine shades of brown, burgundy and earth, with mounted Hippogriff heads on the walls and iron shackles in the wardrobe in case anyone wanted to indulge in a spot of Death Eater revelry and torture...
"Is there anything else you is needing, Miss?" Toolip inquired, jarring Hermione from her morose thoughts.
She shook her head, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. It was then that she saw the pewter mug of steaming potion that was resting on the side table.
"What is that?" Hermione asked, walking over to inspect the brew.
Toolip was busy removing two enormous frilled pillows from a large sandalwood trunk at the foot of the bed.
"You must be drinking that before you is having dinner this evening," the elf instructed.
"Yes, but what is it?"
"It is for the After, Miss," said Toolip.
Hermione frowned, peering over the mug and sniffing at the steam suspiciously. Lucius would have to think her an imbecile to accept any potion brewed in his home. "The after?" she asked Toolip. "I don't understand."
"You is having at it with my Master Draco, is you not?" Toolip asked, in an extremely gentle manner that caused understanding to wash over Hermione like a chill.
The old elf walked over to pat her on the arm. "Best to be taking it today. If you miss a day, the one you is taking tomorrow is tasting worse." Toolip wrinkled her crooked nose.
Hermione dubiously stared down at the potion, which seemed to bubble and pop at her in cheerful greeting.
Toolip tut-tutted. "Is nothing wrong with the potion. I is making it myself. See?" the elf bustled forth and took a sip from the mug. "Is tasting a little of ash, of course, but Cook is adding honey for you."
Floo ash, lotus root, mallowbark and senna flower, with honey for taste. Otherwise known as the standard, 'old school', Contraception Potion that all fifth years learned how to make. Most wizards and witches used spells these days, but Hermione was next to certain that neither she nor Draco had remembered to cast Contraceptus.
She groaned. What the hell was wrong with her? To not even consider contraception? Gods, she was never, ever drinking again. Alcohol was evil. It warped the mind and obliterated morals. Given how far she was into her monthly cycle, it would have been highly unlikely for her to conceive by Draco, but the potion was added peace of mind. Especially for Lucius. And judging by the horrid scene in the study earlier, Lucius's piece of mind was also Draco's safety.
Hermione quietly thanked Toolip and picked up the drink.
"Have you been working here long, then?" she asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable as the elf continued to fuss over her in a motherly fashion. No doubt Lucius had also given instructions to make certain that Hermione drank every last foul tasting drop.
"Oh yes," Toolip nodded. "I is working here long before I is being Master Draco' s nanny."
Hermione choked on her second sip. "His nanny? I mean, you' re still his nanny?"
Toolip shrugged, but there was a humorous twinkle in her cloudy eyes. "He is not wanting a nanny anymore, of course, but I is usually having my way."