On the third day of this odd arrangement, Hermione's stomach began to grumble, loudly. She had been so caught up in her reading and forgot to go to lunch. She would have skipped dinner as well if her stomach hadn't betrayed her with its growl. Almost instantly a house elf appeared.
"Miss Granger is hungry. What does she want to eat?" said a very high-pitched voice.
Her attention now drawn to the sound, Hermione saw the smallest house elf she had ever seen. The female elf was looking down at her feet, hands behind her back, left foot rubbing an itch on the top of her right, her bent head barely reaching the height the chair Hermione sat in. Instantly Hermione's demeanor changed from uninterested studying (she still hadn't figured out why her former passion no longer held no appeal to her) to kindness, tenderness, and excitement. "Are you new here at Hogwarts?"
"No ma'am. I was born here, but only just came of age to serve outside the kitchens. I am four now ma'am."
"You are very old indeed," replied Hermione, trying to hide her outrage at this child being forced to serve her. She was sick of children doing the work that adults were too scared or too proud to do themselves. "And your name?"
"Oh no ma'am, my name is unimportant. What would Miss Granger like to eat ma'am?"
"Please call me Hermione. And your name is very important to me; please tell me."
"Oh no ma'am, I shan't, to both requests. Would Miss Granger like a sandwich, maybe with some soup?" the elf replie, smiling at the thought of getting to be of service, practically bouncing on her feet.
"Not until…"
"Her name is Daisy," Draco interrupts, lazily lowering his book down with a roll of his eyes, "it took me four hours to get her to tell me, and I didn't want to relive that, so I'll just tell you; her name is Daisy," and with that he lifted the book, once again blocking his face from view.
"Is this true? Don't lie." Hermione asks, sweetly yet firmly of the she-elf before her.
"Yes, it is ma'am, although the bad man should not have told Miss that," Daisy responded, frowning at Malfoy.
Hermione almost fell from her chair. Did a Hogwarts house elf just speak poorly of a Hogwarts student? She waited for the child elf to begin to punish herself but it never came. Daisy just stood in front of her and began bouncing once again on the balls of her feet.
"Yes, Daisy, a sandwich and soup would be most welcome," Hermione says, wanting to question Draco on his experience with this elf, privately.
"As you wish Miss," says the smallest elf, before turning a cold eye on Draco, "Will Sir have anything to eat?"
"Just my usual Miss Daisy," never taking his eyes from the page.
Again Hermione almost fell to the floor. Did Draco Malfoy just call a house elf "Miss?" No, she must have heard wrong.
"I have asked you repeatedly not to call me that Sir. I am here only to happily serve, no fancy titles are necessary," the young elf rebuked Draco.
"Yes, yes, I know Miss Daisy. And you know I won't stop, so please bring Miss Granger her food before she withers away in front of me." He went back to his book, as if something in Transfiguration in Seventeenth Century China was more interesting than what had just happened.
A few moments later the house elf reappeared with Hermione's soup and sandwich, both in beautifully decorated ceramic dishes and served to her on an ornate wooden platter. She hastily placed two pieces of burnt toast on the table in front of Malfoy, not even providing a plate. He reached past his book, grabbing the top piece of toast and bring it to his mouth behind the book, took a bite with a loud crunching sound, and mumbled, "Thank you Miss Daisy," before the house elf could get away.
Hermione's thoughts were no longer on the book in front of her. She could only replay the sound of Draco's voice using a title when speaking to a house elf - a sound she had never expected to hear in her life.