Hermione let out a long groan as she settled into the space behind her desk. It was far from as comfortable as she'd want it to be, but the Ministry had forbidden any unnecessary charms on her floor in the wake of the Great Defenestration of 2001. So she was stuck with a straight backed-chair, with a cramped collection of file cabinets and a desk that had been stuffed more than the world's largest turkey.
She'd spent her day organizing efforts for house-elf rights, a good idea she'd had when she was younger, and one that she refused to give up on. It was more complicated than she'd thought it would be, but she relished the challenge. She had so much of muggle history to draw on, and so many people helping her. Harry, Luna, Ginny… Even Ron, skeptical as he was. Not to mention…
"Arthur!" Hermione jumped out of her seat as the door to her office slammed open to reveal the cheery grin of the Weasley patriarch.
"Good evening, Hermione!" Arthur had a box tucked under one arm, which didn't make his entrance any more grateful. He just about managed to squeeze his portly frame and his box through the doorframe, then sat the latter on Hermione's desk. "I've looked into how Muggles raise awareness, just as you asked, and I've no doubt you'll be pleased with it." He rapped his knuckles on the box.
"Oh...oh, thank you, Arthur." Hermione met Arthur's smile. It wouldn't do to dampen his spirits with her own weariness. "I'd almost forgotten. I hope it wasn't too much trouble." She removed the top of the box and peeked inside. "Calendars?" She asked, as she picked up the one on top. It featured a picture of a house-elf clad in a flowing, almost translucent robe. She stood against a sunset beach, their bulbous nose cast in shadow against the sand.
"That's right." Arthur puffed up his chest with pride. "Everywhere I looked, there were these calendars. For animals, for firemen, for lumberjacks, and all kinds of charities. I asked the woman at the counter, and apparently they sell very well. So I looked through them and I found a theme that seems to be just the ticket to making sure these sell."
"This is wonderful, Arthur, really." Hermione could feel some of the fatigue lifting from her already. Sometimes, Arthur could be a little clueless when it came to muggles, but he'd apparently outdone himself. She flipped to January. "If only the others were as...as..."
The January page featured a dragon in the distance, beating its wings as it took off. The gust had swept up the house-elf's robe, while he struggled to keep it from flying off entirely while his bulging eyes stared at the camera and his narrow mouth wrinkled open into laughter.
"I knew you'd love it!" Arthur beamed, as Hermione stared speechless. Perhaps she was mistaken, perhaps he was simply inspired by popular Muggle imagery. She flipped to February.
In that picture, a gaggle of house-elves swum about in a lake, as naked as the day they were born. They splashed water at each other, where it would fall in droplets from their sagging ears.
"I've already got this whole box made, and another order ready to go – just say the word." Arthur said.
Hermione flipped to March. A house-elf was sprawled out on the bed, naked save for the convenient placement of satin sheets. Her eyes had been accentuated with eyeliner, and stood quite prominently despite her drooping carrot-shaped nose.
April featured a pillow-fight. May, a pose on a top-of-the-line broomstick. When she got to June, they were sunbathing with their feet kicking playfully at the air.
"Arthur..." Hermione furrowed her brow. She couldn't be mad at him, but she had to remind herself of it. "Please tell me these house-elves agreed to these."
"Oh, yes! They were quite eager, in fact." Arthur bobbed his head. "Chunkygrumbler even wanted to keep the tassels! Never you worry, I paid for them out of my own pocket."
"Well...that's something, at least." Hermione said. "Arthur… You've done a truly," She paused. "Diligent job here, but I don't think the general wizarding public is comfortable enough with house-elves to display pictures of them in their home. Especially not ones where they're so… Carefree."
"Ah." Arthur's face fell. "I see what you mean. Perhaps we can give them as gifts, to our biggest contributors, then! Something nice for the true friends of house-elves."
"Yes. Why don't we do that?" Hermione carefully put the calendar back in the box. "But next year's not here yet. Best put them somewhere safe until then."
"Right away, Miss Granger, ma'm." Arthur grinned. "And then I can show you my secret weapon."
"Oh?" Hermione felt dread in the pit of her stomach.
"Yes indeed! I've got this pack of playing cards..."