Help!

Chapter 15: Help!

After several moments of silent contemplation, Hermione looked at Lucius and said, “Mr Malfoy, if my forgiveness were for sale, I know precisely what you would find on the price tag.”

“Excellent!” he replied, eyes sparkling with victory. “Give me a number, and we shall proceed from there.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “I’m afraid my proposition does not involve an exchange of Galleons.”

Dread filled his voice as he asked, “What then, pray tell?”

“I merely require the release of your house-elves from servitude."

He looked ill. "Oh, is that all?"

"Not quite." She ignored his sarcasm and plodded on. "I would also like your public support on this initiative ... your earnest encouragement for the rest of the wizarding world to follow your example.”

He offered no reply for several moments. “I believe I have a better idea,” he said finally. His smile was undoubtedly meant to be charming.

She wasn’t swayed. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“I will assign you the deed to your flat. You will own it outright and need never worry about paying a landlord again.”

“Tempting,” she began, “but I’ll have to pass.”

“Come now, Miss Granger. It would make life so much easier ... for both of us.”

“Ah, but there’s that pesky little issue of choosing between what is easy and what is right,” she said. “I’m certain you can guess which option I favour.”

“No doubt,” he said dryly. His expression turned beseeching. “But there must be something else you desire. Anything…”

She hid her grin. He was obviously used to getting his way, and his persistence held a certain boyish appeal.

"There's nothing else I desire from you," she assured him. “This is the issue dearest to my heart. I’ve been passionate about securing the release of house-elves for many, many years.”

“House-elves are quite content with their station in life.” He switched from boyish to imperious in record time. “You presume too much in thinking they desire the same liberties as you.”

“I knew one who greatly desired his freedom.” From the light of recognition in his eyes, she knew he understood of whom she spoke. “Isn’t it a remarkable coincidence that the house-elf who started me on this path came from your home, Mr Malfoy?”

He grimaced, obviously not impressed with the irony. “Dobby was unique, Miss Granger, in more ways than you can imagine.”

“And now he’s dead.” She spoke each word with the finality of a firing squad.

His step faltered slightly, almost imperceptibly.

“Mr Malfoy, I’m giving you the opportunity to atone for two sins with one decision. You’re an intelligent businessman… Surely, you recognise a bargain when you see one.”

She watched his face as they moved around the dance floor, pleased when he seemed to consider her suggestion.

“This is nowhere near as simple as you make it sound,” he said at length. “Have you any notion how much effort such an undertaking would require?”

“Of course.” She smiled. It was the opening she’d been waiting for. “I’ve spent the past year documenting requirements and defining the project scope. Naturally, we’ll request assistance from the house-elves to develop and refine a comprehensive timeline. And we’ll need to appoint a steering committee to monitor change controls, phase gates, and project life cycle. Progress will be measured via a series of benchmarks, with periodic reviews of key deliverables and risk assessment. Believe me, Mr Malfoy, I have not underestimated the time and management necessary for this to work. All the groundwork is in place, and with your cooperation, I have confidence we will achieve a successful implementation.”

As she spoke, his eyes had taken on a dull, glazed look, and his jaw had slackened. With a slight shake of his head, he said, “Good lord, woman, you are perfect for Severus.” He studied her curiously, one eyebrow marginally higher than the other. She could barely discern his words when he mumbled, “I cannot fathom how I have managed to surround myself with such swots.”

“As I was saying ... the plan will work.” She waited until she was certain she had his attention once more. “All it lacks is a respected member of the wizarding community to support the initiative. If you were to endorse this project—and lead by example—others would surely follow.”

He studied her with narrowed eyes, as if she were some unpredictable substance growing in a Petri dish. “What if we were to forget your flat and expand the offer a bit? I might be persuaded to transfer the deed of the entire building to you …”

“I’m afraid not,” she said with a laugh.

With an exaggerated sigh, he asked, “And if I agree to meet with you and review what is bound to be an exceedingly detailed plan, will I have procured your pardon?”

“Reviewing the plan will help convince me of your sincerity,” she told him, “but a full acquittal can only be secured by adopting the plan in its entirety. Do we have a deal?”

“One step at a time,” he offered. “It would be foolish to commit until I have had an opportunity to read the plan and examine your research first-hand. However, barring anything utterly ridiculous, I am willing to offer my house-elves a fair wage for their services.”

“Or their freedom, should they desire it?”

“Or their freedom,” he agreed, rolling his eyes.

Even Hermione was forced to admit it was the rare elf who wished for freedom, but that aspect hardly mattered to her now. Giving them a choice—and adequate pay for their work—was an enormous step in the right direction.

“Excellent!” She beamed a genuine smile at him. Her campaign for house-elf rights had languished far too long without measurable progress. The goal was finally within reach. “I’ll prepare a copy of the plan for you on Monday and have it sent to your office straightaway.”

“Very well. Give me a week to peruse it. I will instruct my secretary to create an opening on my schedule so we can discuss the details in person.”

The music had stopped, and as she stepped away from him, she said, “Assuming we can reach an agreement, I’d say you’re close to having earned that forgiveness you sought.”

She turned to applaud the orchestra, and he used the opportunity to lean closer and whisper in her ear. “How close?”

“You are truly incorrigible,” she said with a chuckle. But because he seemed to be waiting for an answer, she said, “Very close,” before walking away to search for Severus.

She wasn’t sure when her feet had stopped moving. She barely even noticed when Lucius, who was following close behind, walked right into her. His apology went unanswered. Her attention was riveted to the site of Harry and Ginny entering the atrium, alongside Ron and a woman she had never seen before.

A few years earlier, a young American witch had taken an internship at the Ministry and had frequently used the term “skank-ho” to describe witches of a certain appearance. But not until she had gazed upon Ron’s date did Hermione fully comprehend the expression in all its glory.

The witch who had glued herself to Ron’s side wore an indecently short, tight-fitting dress in a metallic gold material that clashed fabulously with the unnatural blond streaks in her hair. She boasted unusually broad shoulders, and as tall as Ron was, she still towered over him. The shiny black platform heels only accentuated her Amazonian stature. And although Hermione was rarely prone to petty observations, one look convinced her there was no way those tits had not been magically enhanced.

Assaulted by a parade of emotions that ran the gamut from revulsion to amusement, she simply could not look away. It was like watching a walking, breathing train wreck, and all she could do was wonder how her evening could possibly get any more bizarre.

A/N: Okay, so it turns out forgiveness can be bought, after all. As always, my appreciation goes to Karelia for the zippy beta pass she provided.