H.E.L.P. the S.P.E.W. Campaign
I sighed softly, inhaling the comforting scent of thousands of old books. The Library was practically empty on a Friday afternoon, which was just perfect for the continuation of my S.P.E.W. campaign items.
"You do know that they won't appreciate this, right?" a voice from behind me cut in.
Startled, I turned to face the person who spoke to me, though in the back of my mind I knew who was talking to me. In a disgruntled manner, I asked primly, "Just what do you mean?"
"I mean, this," the person said forcefully, gesturing to the colorful badges that were sewing themselves together fifteen at a time on the table before me. "It's not worth your time. Hear this: They don't like change."
I gave a soft hmph! before turning away. What would he know, anyway?
"Maybe. But in the long run, they'd understand that what I'm doing is for the best!"
I continued turning the pages of the massive tome before me, glancing angrily at the moving pictures of the enslavement of house-elves.
"I'm serious," he repeated gravely, pulling up a chair opposite me. "You'd think that I wouldn't know anything… but trust me."
The second he sat down, my shoulders tensed up, and my magic froze with me. "What do you think you're doing?" I asked tersely. "Get away from here, are you crazy?"
"This is my seat," he answered simply. How very like him, thinking that he owned a spot in the Library. He carefully scooted several frozen badges away from his table space. "Don't stop just because of me."
"What do you mean by 'trust me', Malfoy? How could you possibly expect me to reasonably attempt that?" I whispered harshly, purposefully ignoring his last statement and finally picking up on his previous assurance.
With a smug smile, he folded his arms across each other on the table and leaned forward as far as the width of the table would allow him. "So… S.P.E.W., huh?" he asked, reading off the badges.
The change of subject, the arrogant avoidance of the question was lost on me, and I excitedly replied, "Yes, exactly!" incredibly pleased that he had caught onto the acronym, and not demeaned it like all the rest by referring to it as "spew."
"SHH!" Madam Pince nearly barked.
Draco smirked at me, and leaned back. In a lazy drawl, he stated, "What in the world could that possibly stand for? And please tell me you're planning on changing the name."
"No, it's absolutely perfect!" I protested as a loud as a whisper would allow. "Listen, would you be—" I stopped dead, and my eyes flickered down to the resumed badge making.
Why was I still allowing him to sit here and talk to me? More importantly why was he allowing himself to sit here and be seen conversing with someone of dirty blood such as mine? This was Draco-bloody-Malfoy, my best friend's sworn enemy. He was not my equal by any means, and I shouldn't be so interested just because he—
Because he what? Because he understands? I chided myself. What utter bollocks.
"Would I be interested in joining?" he finished for me, plainly concealing an amused laugh.
"No! I didn't say that. Forget I said anything," I snapped back. "Are you leaving yet?" I asked again in a tight voice, trying in vain to continue researching with dignity.
"But I'm in the middle of a conversation," Draco replied haughtily. "Now back to what we were discussing. I'm sure you know, Granger, that I would not join your ridiculous Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."
My mouth dropped open wordlessly. "But I thought—"
"And now I'm leaving," he interrupted, gathering his cloak and striding away jauntily before I could finish my thought.
I thought you didn't know what it stood for.
---
"Would you mind terribly?" I asked again with a worried look on my face. "I can wait until dinner!"
"No, no, Dobby would be happy to get it for Hermione," squeaked the house-elf, rushing off into the depths of the kitchen to find me a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.
I started to feel bad I had even approached him with my sweets craving in the middle of the day. Trying to compensate, I handed him a Sickle, but he pushed it back into my hands, looking ashamed.
"Does Hermione need anything else from Dobby?"
I hesitated.
"Well… Tell me, would trying to get all the other house-elves to be free like you be a good thing?"
He gave me a strange look, glancing around nervously at the other house-elves, as though afraid they knew what we were discussing. "Others don't like your talk, miss. They say Miss is bad news. They say –"
"Mm, yes, thank you, Dobby. I understand now," I interrupted. "I'll keep trying, though," I added, determined. "I'm sure one day they'll understand!"
"No, miss. Dobby thinks they won't ever understand," Dobby corrected, blinking up at me with his big, round eyes. "The others still don't like Dobby and his rebellious ideas!" he squeaked.
"But—"
"No, miss. Dobby has learned that no one else wants freedom."
"Learned? You mean from your work here at Hogwarts?" I questioned curiously, picking up the last, fresh cookie.
"Hermione, miss, is not the first to try freeing them," he replied cryptically. "He is where Dobby got the idea."
Certainly, my interest was piqued by now. Leaning forward in a similar fashion to Draco, I asked eagerly, "Well, who?"
"In Dobby's old house, miss, the house-elves were rallied to rebellion. They didn't like it. They hated him."
"Him who?" I begged. "Please, tell me! Who tried to free you?"
"Dobby can't say, miss!" Dobby exclaimed in an even squeakier voice, filled with fear.
"Of course you can! You can say! No one will ever know but me," I promised, pretending to zip my lips. Dobby looked pained, but he caved.
"Draco Malfoy, miss."
---
Sure enough, he was sitting in the exact seat he had forced himself into two nights ago, I noted. Draco was bent over a medium-sized book, alternating between his parchment, dipping his quill in the ink pot, and reading the book more.
I approached him cautiously, careful to keep my polished shoes from clicking on the floor. Once I was at the seat across from him, I slammed down my pile of books onto the table to get his attention.
His head shot up to meet my face while Madam Pince simultaneously issued a sharp "shhh!" that caused me to sit down in shame.
"Just what do you think you're doing here, Granger?" he asked coldly, his grey eyes flickering over my set up workstation.
"I thought that much would be obvious, Malfoy," I answered, opening The Difference between House-Elves and Muggle Vacuums with an indignant look.
"Granger, clearly you mistook what the other day was," Draco drawled, quirking one of his pale blonde eyebrows. "That was me, subtly mocking your ridiculous project of freeing our house-elves. Didn't you get the memo?"
"Or," I drew out, not daring to finish my sentence. "It could have been something else entirely that I wasn't supposed to understand."
"Like what?" he challenged, folding his arms across his chest.
"'You'd think that I wouldn't know anything… but trust me'? Who are you kidding?" I demanded. "Come on, that's just begging for an explanation!"
"Which is exactly what I'd expect of your breed. Not above begging, or the like," Draco sneered in his awful voice, narrowing his eyes as if to dare me to continue.
"Flattery gets you nowhere," I replied dryly, trying to ignore his implied insult. Squeezing my eyes shut to hide the tears, I continued, "Which begs the question, once more, what did you mean by that?"
"Nothing," he replied shortly, cocky smirk screwed into place.
"Liar."
"And on what grounds could you possibly assume that I meant something about it?" he inquired, once more quirking his brow. "Rather, what do you think I meant?"
"Well, that I'm just not sure about," I lied, closing the atrocious book that outlined the positives to house-elves.
"How about you owl me once you get a clue, Mudblood?" Draco mocked, packing up his things and leaving me in the dust once more.
---
I refused to admit that his name for it was actually much more effective, complete with a catchy hook. I refused to admit that Ron had nearly been spot-on with his name suggestion for my society.
It was nearly sad, actually, how determined the pre-kindergarten Draco was to set his house-elves free from the slavery of his father. It was sad because, as they say, "all good things come to an end." And as per usual, his father and everything he stood for was the end ofall goodness.
I couldn't imagine my own father whacking me with a cane and lecturing me to focus on what really mattered.
But nonetheless, Dobby had been kind enough to give me the last surviving memory of what spurred him to long for freedom. And I had been kind enough to remind Draco of his old creature interest projects when he was very, very young.
I watched Draco open his letter, and gave a smirk of my own.
From across the room, I could see Pansy ask him with a suspicious look, "Has the Mudblood finally changed her outrageous project to something else? Well, good. But why in the world would she expect you to care?" Leaning in to read it, she had to admit, "Well, at least it's more clever."
And Draco gave her a reprise of his cocky smirk before looking up to glare hatefully at me.
House-Elf Liberation Project
HELP us save the house-elves from cruelty!
A/N: Welll, this was undoubtedly OOC, and for that I apologize. You win some, and you lose some. I just really thought this was cute, and actually got the idea from something my AP Euro teacher said about Catherine the Great's former desires to free the serfs. Haha, I'm just such a nerd! 8-) Oh well.
I hope you enjoyed it anyway, and reviews/criticisms (nice and justified ones!) are welcome and appreciated.
Merry early Christmas and Happy Holidays to the rest!