Disclaimer: I own neither Dobby, nor Draco, nor Lucius and Narcissa, nor Malfoy Manor, nor Harry Potter or anything associated with him. But JKR does.
It had been a rather fun day for Draco. Of course, that was before he knew one wasn't supposed to play with house elves, but it had been fun nonetheless.
It was a Sunday afternoon, in July.
He'd met Dobby before, of course, but now, they were just the same size, and Draco had had an idea. For the young boy, it was an obviously brilliant idea, involving a Fanged Frisbee, and unfortunately, an accomplice. Vince and Greg weren't clever or quick enough to help, and so, Draco was sitting there, sulking, because he didn't have anyone to help him play that prank.
"Is Young Master in need of help?"
"Dobby?"
Draco stood up, turned around.
"Uh... Yes, yes I am. Would you mind helping me?"
Father had told him one shouldn't be polite to "scum", whatever that meant, but he figured Dobby probably wasn't. He sometimes wondered what that meant, "scum". It sounded like a rather strange word. Maybe it meant friends? But, no, Mother had said one should be nice to friends, and niceness included politeness, so it probably didn't mean that.
"Dobby would like helping Young Master. What does Young Master need help with?"
And so, Draco explained the plan.
Minutes later, a giggling boy and house elf went up to the dining room balcony, with the boy holding a Fanged Frisbee.
They waited until Father and Mother arrived, and chucked it back and forth, so that it would go just over their heads.
Father was shouting, and Mother had gone into shock, while Draco and Dobby were laughing their heads off.
Of course, there was a prize to pay for this little bit of fun.
Just when his Father was about to thoroughly dress Draco down, Dobby spoke up.
"It was Dobby's fault, Master Lucius Sir."
Draco would never forget his sentence, or that he still got a rather long monologue from Father, with the topic that one didn't play with house elves, even though Draco didn't quite get why, after all, it was mightily fun, but Dobby had indeed saved him from the brunt of Father's anger, by taking it upon himself.
During the years, Draco started understanding why one shouldn't play with house elves, and began treating Dobby just like Father did. In fact, he tried to do everything just like Father did.
Still, he was secretly glad when Dobby was freed. He hoped the house elf would have a better life. Not that he would say that to Potter.
Then, when he finally understood what being "just like Father" meant, and when it was too late to go back, he saw Dobby again, rescuing Potter.
A year after the defeat of the Dark Lord, there was a victory party. Draco's Dark Mark was itching, but luckily, it was faded now, so much that one couldn't make it out unless one was very, very close.
Somehow, Draco ended up talking to Potter.
"What... what I wanted to ask you... what actually happened to Dobby? I mean, I know he saved you and the others from... from our house, but what happened to him?"
Potter looked at him, clearly surprised by the question. It annoyed Draco. Just because he hadn't always been the nicest person to Dobby didn't mean he wasn't concerned.
"Bellatrix Lestrange got him with a knife at the very last moment. I could show you his grave, if you want me to. He gave his life for ours."
Dobby was dead? Oh no. Still, Draco was grateful that at least Potter hadn't called that woman "your aunt" or something.
"Why did you ask? Did you care for him?"
If Potter had said this in an accusatory tone, Draco would have strangled him. He didn't, luckily, even though he did sound a little surprised, still.
"I did... Even though I didn't always treat him very well. There's a story I've got to tell you..."
And Draco told Harry about one Sunday afternoon in July, spent playing a prank.