Draco pressed the three Galleon coins into Dobby's outstretched hand, and with that, their contract was terminated.
"Congratulations, Dobby," said Draco with a genuine smile.
"Thank you," replied Dobby, tugging on his ears happily. The gold reflected off the welling tears in his large, bulbous eyes. He wiped them on the sleeve of the garish sweater he was wearing. "Thank you, Young Master Draco!"
"Not 'Young Master', anymore," corrected Draco with a slight but friendly frown. "Just … Draco, I suppose."
"Like Harry Potter!" chimed the free-elf cheerfully.
"I suppose," repeated Draco uncomfortably.
The Weasley Twins stepped up, each standing on either side of Dobby. "We're your Masters now," said Fred, thumping a fist on his chest. George clapped Dobby on the back, causing the small elf to wheeze.
"Not Master." It was Hermione this time, and she spoke with a more severe tone than Draco had. "You're his employer.
There's a huge difference between those two terms, and it's imperative that we use the correct one when addressing the relationship between house-elves and their respective employers." She tapped pointedly at the S.P.E.W. badge on her chest.
"Except they're not all employers, are they?" mused Luna out loud, snacking on a biscuit with a circle of raspberry jam in the centre. "Most elves still belong to families, don't they?"
"And they're not exactly pleased to have it any other way," added Ron.
"Well: all economic, social, and cultural rights movements begin somewhere," said Hermione with finality.
George threw his open hand against Hermione's back with as much enthusiasm as he had with Dobby. "Glad to be a pioneer in this movement of yours, Granger," he said. "Couldn't be a better time too with the business skyrocketing the way it is. Cheap labour in the form of a hard-working house-elf is genius."
"The way of the future," added Fred with a grandiose gesture.
"Yes, well, regarding Dobby's pay –"
"Ah, ah, ah," interjected George, waving a finger in Hermione's face. "That's confidential; between employer and employee. Economic, social, cultural rights, and all that. Can't divulge nor discuss matters of such sensitive nature with outside parties, now can we?" He threw a wink at Dobby, causing the elf a fit of giggles.
"That would be wrong," agreed Fred, nodding his head, causing the outlandish hat he wore to tip over his eyes. "But rest assured you Spirted SPEWers –"
"That's S.P.E –"
"– that Dobby the free-elf will certainly receive better wages and benefits from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes than his last, stingy, tight-pocketed employer."
"Hey!" Draco exclaimed, turning his attention away from the tray of biscuits and tea. "I merely complied with the demands the elf made; I might have paid him more if he'd asked for it."
Fred nodded as if consoling the younger man. "Dobby must have known that the Malfoys aren't as rich as us Weasleys," he commented with a sorrowful façade. He pulled a silk handkerchief from the inside of his jacket, holding it so the monogramed initials 'F.W.' were plain for everyone to see as he dabbed the corners of his eyes. "What a kind, kind little elf."
To the side, Dobby bobbed his head along to Fred's words, as if they were true. Draco opened his mouth to argue, but stopped himself, emitting a loud, exasperated sigh instead. There was no fighting the Twins when they were in a good mood. And truthfully, he was rather happy to be part of the festivities.
"I'm surprised Theodore isn't here," commented Ron, sidling up next to Draco at the refreshments table. "Being a business partner and all."
"He said he's more of a silent partner, whereas your brothers are the managing partners, and are welcome to do as they please, so long as Theo gets his profits." He threw a nod in the direction of the Twins. "Think you'll join in their venture? Two locations with plenty of potential for future expansion; Fred might be right: the Weasleys might end up richer than any other Wizarding family."
Ron smiled. "It's not about the money for those two," he said. "Well, not all about the money. But at any rate, I've got something else in mind." Without elaborating on what this might be, he squeezed Draco's shoulder and walked off, joining Harry, who was sitting on the couch, talking to Lee Jordan.
"I cannot believe no one else is wearing their badge!" complained Hermione, slamming into Draco's side. She glared up at her boyfriend, her angry stare darting between his face and badge-less chest.
"It didn't match my vest," Draco said slowly. He raised his arms to lightly – tentatively – rest his hands on her shoulders. When she didn't pull away, he relaxed a little. "We all know you're the reason behind this major improvement in Elf Rights," he assured her. "You and your brilliant –"
"Yes, well, not really. Everyone thinks you're the original cog who got things moving, forming a paid contract with Dobby – and Winky."
"And I was inspired by –"
"And can you believe the Daily Prophet actually declined my offer to submit a detailed article about this ground-breaking event? I mean, I understand it's not exactly matching with current headlines – So-and-So Has Been Found Dead, or So-and-So Has Gone Missing, or Dumbledore This, and Voldemort That; I mean I could have thrown Harry's name into the mix, but then it would have ended up in the celebrity gossip section, and completely degraded the significance of this momentous occasion."
Draco nodded several times, hoping this meagre action would show Hermione his support. "Anyway, I thought this was rather rubbish, so I contacted the Chief Editor and guess what he said?"
"Umm…"
"He said that one oddball elf working for money wasn't news. He said – and I quote – 'Why don't you go change a law or something, Miss Granger; now that would be something worth reporting.'" Hermione propped her hands on her hips and glared out at the distance as a small smile formed on her lips. "Well, you know what, that's exactly what I'm going to do, and when I do it, the Daily Prophet is going to be the last publication that hears about it."
"The Quibbler would gladly spare some space for that," said Luna helpfully. "It'll be a nice follow-up to the poem I've written about Dobby's new job; Dad will be printing it in the next edition."
Hermione gave the Ravenclaw a strained sort of sideways smile before excusing herself. "Don't mind her, Luna," excused Draco on his girlfriend's behalf. He considered his words before continuing. "It just … vexes her that the Wizarding community isn't taking this issue as seriously as her passion feels it warrants. I think she'd actually be delighted to be featured in The Quibbler again."
Luna picked up a cup of cider from the table. "Oh, I don't know about feature," she said, taking a small sip. "But we'll see how it goes first."
"Well, that was quite a way to spend our day off at Hogsmeade," Ron said as he wrapped his scarf around and pulled on his mitts. He shivered as a cold wind blew over their small group.
"Your brothers really know how to throw a party," commented Luna, the tip of her pale nose already red with chill. She tugged on the flaps of her over-sized, furry hat, causing the brim to fall over her eyes.
"You're going to trip and fall like that," chided Harry, stopping to adjust the small Ravenclaw's large hat, and brush her bangs from her face.
"Couldn't we just grab a carriage back to the school gates?" suggested Draco, stuffing his hands in his coat pocket. Hermione clung to his side for warmth; the wind blew her hair wildly into both their faces. "Next year, for Christmas, you're getting a hat," Draco groaned, taking his hand out in an attempt to smooth out her hair. "One that's charmed to stay on your head and keep your hair in order." Hermione laughed as Draco settled on tying his scarf over her head. "So, friends: a carriage?"
"If you're paying," shouted Ron as another gust pushed everyone a few steps down the road. "And if we can even find one."
"Okay, well you lot find the carriage while I go make a withdrawal at Gringotts." He hurried off with a wave at the group making for the large, brass-handled, glass doors of the Wizarding Bank. It wasn't as grand as the central branch in Diagon Alley, but it was no less impressive: marble walls and marble floors greeted Draco; it might have appeared cold to some, but such expensive details and fine craftsmanship made Draco feel right at home. He filled out a withdrawal slip and marched straight to the next available goblin, handing both the slip and his wand for inspection. The goblin studied the wand thoroughly, casting a bored glance at Draco every now and then. When he was satisfied, he observed his withdrawal request.
"Denied," the goblin said at last, stamping the slip with a bit more flourish than Draco liked. He turned his head slightly to take note of the other patrons in the bank at that moment.
"I beg your pardon?" asked Draco, presuming the goblin had made a mistake – for he must have made a mistake.
"Withdrawal denied," repeated the goblin.
"For what reason?"
The goblin's beady eyes narrowed disdainfully. "Insufficient funds."
"In – Insufficient!? Do you know who I am?" exclaimed Draco, no longer caring who might hear him. He reached across the marble counter to grab the withdrawal slip. "My family's account has a hundred times – a thousand times – a hundred thousand times more than this."
The goblin nodded, as if he were deciding whether or not to have peas served with his lunch. "Yes, yes," he said, the slightest tinge of approval in his voice. "But none of it is accessible, and therefore, your withdrawal request is denied." The goblin snapped and the slip flew from Draco's hand back to his, and he promptly filed it with his other papers. He stared at Draco a moment longer before clasping his spindly fingers together, indicating their transaction was over.
"I'd like to speak with your manager," demanded Draco.
The branch manager was a tall, very chubby Wizard, with dark eyes, and neat, shoulder-length brown hair. He was pleased to meet Draco, being familiar with the family name of Malfoy (as any banker should), and offered him tea and an assortment of biscuits and chocolates – all of which Draco turned down on account of time.
"I'm afraid, due to the outcome of your father's recent trial, the family's assets have all been frozen," explained the manager, after they had taken a seat in his office. He spoke matter-of-factly, which Draco didn't like, mostly because it seemed to leave little room for negotiation.
"What about my mother's reserve?" he inquired. "She had inherited some wealth from the Black Family which was kept separate."
"Yes, yes," the branch manager said, flipping deftly through the large file of papers on his desk. "But it seems… Well, your mother, Narcissa Malfoy née Black, hasn't been into a branch recently to activate this reserve, so while you're entitled to the funds on paper, it's inaccessible as well."
"What options are available to me, then?"
The branch manager closed the file and clasped his hands together, much like the goblin earlier, which made Draco wonder who was mimicking whom. "Well, son – and I advise this to most young Wizards and Witches – you should consider starting your own account, and when the family funds are released – and I'm sure they will be soon – put some of your allowance aside into this separate account, for rainy day emergencies. Now, you're a little too young for credit, but based on your family's history, I think – as manager – I can make a small exception." The goblin who denied Draco's withdrawal earlier knocked at the door and the manager waved him in; he was handed Draco's withdrawal slip. "I would be pleased to approve a small loan – interest free – for this amount to be repaid in the future, when things settle for your family." With a smile, the bank manager went to scribbling on the back of the slip; when he was done, he passed it to Draco to read. It was a simple contract, very concise, with no strings attached. "You just need to sign," said the bank manager, offering Draco a feathered quill. Draco read the contract three times before signing. The goblin took the slip afterward and put his own mark on it, then hurried out of the office.
"Thank you," said Draco, after the goblin had left.
"Oh, you're most welcome," replied the bank manager, standing up to shake Draco's hand. He also patted him on the shoulder several times in a friendly manner. "Smeltham will just be a moment with your money – ah, here he comes now." The goblin, Smeltham, knocked once more on the office door, and once allowed entry, handed Draco a handful of coins, which, after verifying, offered a small velvet purse to hold them. The branch manager then walked Draco to the front door, shook his hand once more, and pat him on the back a few more times. Draco thanked the branch manager again, and left with the promise to return to open his first and own bank account at his earliest convenience.
"That took you forever," complained Ron as they all climbed into the carriage. "For a moment, we were worried something had happened to you."
"I was made to wait," Draco said with an air of impatience. "The branch manager wanted to speak with me."
"Really?" asked Luna, who seemed to be the only one impressed by this. "Dad always wants to meet with our branch manager, but he's never got time for him."
"Well, I am a Malfoy. The good man just wanted to shake hands since my family doesn't frequent this location. Despite the inconvenience, it was good on his part, establishing the relationship; I'll not forget him."
"Right, well, Malfoy, while you were having tea with the manager, we were freezing so badly, I decided to front the cost of the carriage – and we would've left you behind if not for Hermione." Harry folded his arms and leaned back in his seat, his lips twisted into a small smile. Next to him, Ron also crossed his arms, elbowing his best friend as he did.
"Think I should've gone into the bank too to shake some hands. The name Weasley is soon going to have more wallop than Malfoy or Potter." The boys fell into jostling each other playfully until they got back to school, where, after the security checks, went their separate ways.
"I'm going to find Sirius and Remus," said Harry, turning in the direction of the teacher's offices. "You're all welcome to join, I think," he added, furrowing his brow slightly, as if he weren't sure.
"I've got nowhere else to be," said Ron with a shrug. They looked at the others.
"I've got a mountain of homework to do still," said Hermione, gesturing with her arms to illustrate the enormity of her workload. No one doubted her.
Luna stared back with a dreamy look. "I think I'd prefer a nap before dinner time."
"I guess I can come with you boys to the teacher's area; I've got to find Professor Snape myself," said Draco, taking a couple of steps toward Harry and Ron. Hermione caught his hand before they parted.
"Are you sure everything is okay?" she asked in a whisper.
Draco smiled and kissed her. "Everything is fine. You have nothing to worry about – other than all that work you've yet to complete, lest you fall from high standing, or maybe even fail sixth year." She knocked him in the ribs for that comment, but placed a quick kiss on his cheek before leaving.
The three boys chatted about the Twins' new line of products – the cleverness of the spells and the exorbitant prices they were charging – until halfway to their destination, when Ron asked Draco, "So, we were wondering, what happened to you over the holiday?"
"Not sure what you mean," replied Draco, cautious to remain neutral in his tone.
"Well, there was that one day, after Theodore was allowed to visit, that you went off with Bill and Charlie somewhere. Then Mum and Dad booted the rest of us out of the house to Sirius's place for a 'surprise sleepover', but when we got back, it was like they'd had a bad fight." The red-haired boy tilted his head in Draco's direction. "Still not sure what I mean?" When Draco remained silent, Ron stopped walking altogether, causing the other two boys to pause as well. "Don't you think there's too many secrets between us?" he said suddenly. Draco and Harry exchanged wary glances, knowing this was true.
"But what are we to do?" asked Draco in turn, and he meant it sincerely. "Our hands are tied by forces greater than the thin thread of trust we share." Harry's silence was response enough to indicate he felt similarly.
"Don't you think … I don't know. Don't you think it makes things worse though? Between us? We're supposed to work together and look out for each other; we're supposed to have each other's backs, but how can we when we don't even know what's really going on with each other anymore?"
"You do have a point, Ron," agreed Harry, though with some hesitation.
"Got a brilliant solution then?"
Ron shuffled his feet, shifting his weight. "No, not really," he answered uncomfortably. "But… It's just that… There's a lot going on, and so many things we're not supposed to tell each other, and it feels like it's getting bad, because I want to be able to trust and talk to my mates."
"What if you learn something that makes you angry?" It was Harry who asked the question, but Draco was thinking the exact same thing.
"Then," answered Ron, "I'll be angry. And you'll be angry, Harry, or you, Draco, but at least we'll know we can trust each other."
It was more than a measure of sentimental, and a fair share of school-boy hopefulness, but there was something to Ron's words that made Draco want to do it – to open up and be transparent with others who would be equally honest with him. But it also raised some concerns: how much would he have to share, and how much would they actually share with him? Did they really trust him, or was this a trick? Was he allowed to retain information that wasn't his to tell?
"Give us some time to think on it, Ronald," said Draco, throwing an arm over the taller boy's shoulders. He took a chance and draped his other arm over Harry's shoulders, finding that the other boy smiled at the gesture. The boys fell into a light-hearted and warm laugh before they too split ways.
Professor Snape assisted Draco in making a 'telephone call' to his Aunt Andromeda's residence in order to speak with his mother. He was assured this was the most secure method of communication.
"Cissy, the phone is for you!" Andromeda could be heard saying on the other side. There was some noise – a shuffling and some clunking, before Draco heard his aunt's voice again, but this time, it sounded a bit far away. "Not like that," she laughed. "You listen on that side and speak on the other!"
"I swear, Andromeda, you did that on purpose!" shouted Narcissa in return. "Hello? Draco?"
"Yes, Mother, it's me."
"Is everything alright, sweetheart? It's unusual for you to contact me like this."
"Yes, well, it's something of a rather urgent nature. You see, I was in the bank in Hogsmeade…"
Draco trailed off, but his mother immediately understood. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I haven't exactly been allowed to leave the house, as you know, but I did receive a letter from our lawyer about your father's trial. I promise I'll have things sorted soon, Draco. Just… leave it me – leave it to your mother – and I'll figure something out." There was a pause before she quickly added, "No need to tell anyone either. It's just a momentary blip; it'll be fixed before you know it. Do you need money now? I can send something to you if you require it."
Draco assured his mother that wouldn't be necessary. He explained he'd used the last of his Galleons paying out Dobby's contract, as the elf had found new employment. His mother seemed pleased to hear this. "He was never really any good," she said, and he could imagine her rolling her eyes. "I've never forgiven your grandfather for taking Dobby's mother with him and leaving us with that incompetent… What about the other one following you around – the female elf?"
"She's still working for me, I suppose," he answered. Winky actually spent more time at the Burrow than she did minding him, which was just fine with Draco. If ever someone deserved the assistance of a house-elf, he thought it was Mrs Weasley.
"Oh, that's good. Now, she seems lovely – she belonged to the Crouch family before, if I recall correctly."
Draco nodded, forgetting that his mother couldn't see him. Professor Snape had begun to glare at him as their conversation had clearly strayed from the "urgent business" he had used as pretense for the call. "Look, Mum, I've got to go. I was only allowed to speak with you shortly, and about the bank thing."
"Sorry, Draco, did you say something? Your aunt over here thought it would be hilarious to –" a loud ruffling sound cut her off, and the next thing Draco heard was his mother shouting (again, sounding far away), "I swear I'll hex you Andromeda!"
"Mum?" Draco repeated, over and over until he regained his mother's attention. "I have to go," he said very slowly, emphasizing each word.
"Oh, that's right. I'm glad to have heard your voice though. I'll fix the bank problem soon, I promise. And I'll keep sending you letters – you have been receiving my letters, haven't you?"
Again, Draco nodded, but this time remembered. "Yes, Mother, I have been. Thank you. And you've been receiving mine?"
"Yes, sweetheart. It's what I look forward to most every month. Be strong, and be smart, Draco. Mummy loves you. And I will fix this."
