Cleaning Fireplaces
"DOBBY!"
Dobby sighed as the oh too familiar screech came from upstairs. He looked down at the fireplace he was cleaning for the third time that week and his shoulders slumped. As a house elf he was bound to do whatever his family required of him, even if it meant practically wearing his shoulders out scrubbing at old floo powder stains.
"Coming Mistress!" He muttered to himself. Then he clicked his fingers and Disapparated upstairs.
"Dobby, why isn't Lucius' bed made yet?" Mrs Malfoy demanded of him. "It's nearly time for my little boy's nap, and you Haven't CHANGED HIS SHEETS YET!"
The last few words rose to a screech and sparks flew out of her wand. Dobby winced at the sight of them.
"P-Please Mistress, D-Dobby was cleaning the f-fireplaces, like M-Mistress told him to e-earlier," he managed to stutter, terrified of what she would say or do next.
"CLEANING THE FIREPLACES? YOU WERE CLEANING THE – GET AND MAKE THAT BED BEFORE I ORDER YOU TO PUNISH YOURSELF AGAIN!"
Dobby cowered under the weight of her voice. He hated feeling powerless like this, hated being under someone else's control. He definitely hated the feeling of being pulled towards his task without any option in the matter. But he was a house-elf and house-elves did what they were told. So he heaved another unheard sigh and trudged into the next room to make up baby Lucius' bed yet again. The kid must have slept in more sets of bedclothes than most children four times his age, and he was still only a year old! At least this task only required a quick snap of his fingers and a little straightening of sheets before it was complete. He felt a little better every time he used magic, which he was still only getting the hang of properly.
Not for the first time, he found his mind wandering back to the days before Lucius was born, before his Mistress had become practically germo-phobic and his Master had become so bad. Back when Dobby was only a baby house elf and he had been able to wander the house as he pleased, as long as the Master didn't see him. That seemed like so long ago now yet it was only a few short years. Dobby cast his mind back to his Mama, who had taught him all he needed to know about being a good house-elf. She had been a servant to the Malfoys too, and had been worked to the bone, but always had a smile for Dobby at the end of the day. She was dead now, and finally at rest. Dobby still cried over it sometimes, but he knew she was in a better place now so he tried to only think of the positive memories.
He was jerked back to reality when he felt the tug at his chest that meant he was being called by someone he couldn't hear. He snapped his fingers and Disapparated to find out what it was he was being summoned for this time…