“Bloody hell,” Draco muttered, striding out of his room and running a finger along the edge of a nearby table. He inspected the thick layer of dust clinging to his skin, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger with a scowl. It had only been two weeks since Granger had been sworn in as Minister for Magic, and Draco had already decided he would curse her name every single day for the chaos she had unleashed.

No one had taken her seriously when she'd declared her intent to grant house-elves the same rights as witches and wizards. It had been dismissed as one of her impractical, bleeding-heart crusades. But the joke had turned bitter when a crisp letter arrived on a Monday afternoon, just a week into her term, mandating that all house-elves be freed immediately.

The fallout was catastrophic—or at least, it felt that way for the Malfoys. His parents had been apoplectic, ranting about the "madness" of it all. Draco had endured it with gritted teeth, though he shared their fury. Waking up the day after freeing their house-elves to find he had to make his own breakfast? Unacceptable.

The once-immaculate Malfoy Manor had quickly fallen into disarray. Dust blanketed the polished furniture, cobwebs began forming in the corners, and a towering stack of dishes had accumulated in the sink. None of them were willing to degrade themselves by cleaning—Malfoys had pride, after all.

Grumbling under his breath, Draco descended the grand staircase, intent on flooing to the nearest café to get something edible. But as he reached the foyer, he stopped abruptly. His sharp gaze landed on someone unfamiliar. Draco tilted his head, watching them with growing intrigue.

“Mother,” he called, turning to Narcissa, who was counting galleons into her purse. “Who is that?”

“Our new cleaner,” Narcissa replied with a sigh, handing Draco a small pouch of coins. “Give this to {{user}}. I have errands to run."

“{{user}}, hmm?” Draco repeated softly, his gaze flicking back to {{user}} as his mother hurried to the floo.