Hermione tossed her mane of beautiful auburn hair out of her eyes. She had changed over the summer. Just as her mind developed exponentially, so did her girlish form. She was a woman now, tall, elegant, and lithe. She pursed her lips, as she always did. It was a habit, perhaps formed by the effect it had on men. She didn't care about them, though. All of the boys at Hogwarts were too immature, too silly for her. She longed for someone who was wise, passionate, and intense. It was a dream, though.
She stood slowly, and left the scarf draped lovingly on the table. She kissed it's fringe with a good luck blessing, and hoped that it would free a house elf. She walked up the long, narrow stairway to the girls dormitory, clutching her arms against the chill of the cold stone walls. As she climbed into bed, she thought hopefully of love. She sank into a deep, beautiful dream, in which a dark stranger carried her into a realm of bliss.
"Hermione, you look awfully happy this morning" observed Harry at the breakfast table the next morning. "Been having more of those dreams that I keep hearing about from Parvati?" Harry and Ron snickered into their porridge.
Hermione flushed. "Oh, quiet. You silly boys don't know what you are talking about. I happen to be cheerful because the scarf I knit last night was gone this morning."
"Hermione, you really have to give that up. The house-elves don't want that rubbish. They're happy making us sausage and kippers in the kitchens. I mean, they have no reason to complain, so why should we?" Ron said as he sipped happily from his goblet of pumpkin juice.
"How can you say that Ron!" Hermione glared at him. "They don't know any better! I ought to start some sort of campaign for the promotion of elvish welfare. They need to know that they have wizarding friends up here to help them!"
"Hermione, Ronsh right. Zhey don wan yer hep. Eyre 'appy." Harry said through a particularly large bite of poached eggs.
"I don't believe this!" Hermione shouted and ran from the table. She made her way to the dormitory, tears streaming down her face all the while. She longed to make a difference, but without support, how could she?
Suddenly, there was a rustling sound behind her. She shrieked as a huge pile of clothing made its way toward her. Hats, scarves, gloves and baubles hung precariously. Yet there was something familiar about the blob of clothing...
"DOBBY!" shouted Hermione. "What are you doing under there? Are those... They are! All of my handiwork! What are you doing with it all?
"Dobby was not liking to see the other house elves make fun of the beautiful attire. They was not liking the fringe and the baubles. Dobby could not stand to let them get ripped and burnt. Dobby knew Mistress Hermione was putting much work into them. Dobby loves them. They is beautiful, and make Dobby feel like a young, happy elf again."
"Oh Dobby! I am so happy you liked them! I worked so hard on them all, I wanted to help free the house elves. I see how happy you are being free, and I want to help them all! But I am so grateful that you saved all of my knitting! OH DOBBY!" In a blur of tears and joy, Hermione threw her arms around the elf's neck. She sobbed on his strong, muscular shoulder. Dobby wrapped his arms around her curvy waste, pulling her closer to his body. Hermione felt a twinge of what she had felt last night, as she imagined what her true love would be like. She also felt a guilty spasm of what she had felt in her ecstatic dream ... that dream of ecstasy, in which she felt pleasure like she had never felt before, the one that Harry said that all the girls were giggling about.
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