Well, enjoy – dun-dun-DUN! the third Unlikely Tale: Hermione and Dobby!
"You're useless, both of you! We'll never get anywhere unless you two actually do something!" Hermione slammed her palm down on the table room at which they were sat in the Gryffindor common one evening. Ron and Harry exchanged exasperated glances, and Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Ron, you're Treasurer, right? So where are our collection boxes?"
"Er –" said Ron, evidently not having the faintest idea.
"Exactly. Harry, you are Secretary, believe it or not, and have been for two years. Have you ever made any notes? At all?"
Harry sighed. "Hermione, you know, me and Ron, well - you must have realised by now that we're not – we don't –"
"Think that a society dedicated to the well-being and freedom of your personal slaves is worth your time?" Hermione's lips were pressed in a thin line, and Harry continued with caution.
"Hermione, will you ever believe that they are happy where they are? They're house elves, they really do love to work - it's in their nature."
Ron chimed in, "You know, maybe you should just give up on spew and do something worthwhile with your life, Hermione."
Hermione made an animal noise of frustration. "It's S – P – E – W, Ron!" she yelled, so loud that Ron, forgetting he was sitting down, tried to back away, and nearly tumbled backwards off his dangerously wobbling chair as a consequence. As he desperately scrabbled for a handhold, Hermione burst into tears, and in an angry fit of pique pushed Ron's chair hard with both hands, knocking it over entirely.
Ron picked himself off the floor, dazed, as the other Gryffindors chuckled and Hermione fled the room, covering her face with trembling fingers.
Hermione walked with quick, distressed strides in no particular direction, half-blinded by the tears that still welled from her eyes. She barely noticed Nearly Headless Nick as he floated past her, and did not reply to his concerned, "Why my dear, are you quite all right?" She just kept walking, and walking, until she found herself in a part of the castle that she had never been in before.
"It's just – not – fair!" she choked, through gritted teeth, half-furious at herself for being so weak to cry. "They never understand how important this is." And she continued to walk angrily along the dark corridor and into what she vaguely perceived as being old dungeons. There was solitude here, no one to mock her, and Hermione flung herself onto the stone floor, drawing up her knees to her chest, and sobbed heartily into her robes.
"Oh, Miss! Does something be the matter, Miss?" A small voice squeaked in her ear, and Hermione jumped in shock, hitting out instinctively at the figure that had appeared so suddenly and silently beside her.
The house-elf squeaked in pain as her hand collided with its head, and Hermione gasped.
"Oh, no! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you –" A fine supporter of elf-rights I am, Hermione thought to herself furiously, as she drew out her wand and performed a small Healing charm that soothed the little elf's stinging cheek.
"I'm sorry," she said again, and the elf beamed.
"No worries, Miss! Miss be very kind to care about a little elf like Flimpy!"
Hermione had stopped crying by now, though there were still drying tear-tracks running down either side of her face, and Flimpy looked at them sympathetically.
"Can I help Miss, Miss?" she squeaked hopefully, her big round eyes blinking up at her.
"It's okay, I'm fine now, er, Flimpy. Where – where is this?"
For as Hermione took in her surroundings clearly, she saw that this was a small, dark, disused dungeon, tucked away forlornly in the depths of the great castle.
"This, Miss? This be where we live, Miss! Just through this door, Miss - this be house-elf sleeping-quarters!"
"You live here?" said Hermione in horror, looking around at the cramped stone room. "Why, this is awful!"
"No, Miss, look here, this be where we are!" And little Flimpy pulled Hermione through the tiny door – Hermione had to stoop low – and into the house-elf domain.
There were rows upon rows of tiny beds, little washstands neatly arranged along the wall, a small rug at the base of every one. As soon as Hermione entered the room, there was an explosion of delighted chatter.
Beaming house-elves scurried to her side; several hugged her about the knees, and a multitude of voices proclaimed their delight to have a student visit them in their humble abode.
"Why has you come to visit us, Miss?" cried a tiny house elf with especially large ears. "We never has had students down here before!"
And then Hermione saw her chance – no Ron and Harry looking uncomfortable beside her, scared that she was going to start telling the elves about their rights. She had done it before, but had always held back, conscious that she had no support. But now, now Harry and Ron had shown their complete disdain for SPEW, well, she would go about it by herself! She would help these elves gain the freedom she was positive they would love, and she would let them know all their entitlements as magical creatures!
"Listen to me, all," she said in a clear, carrying voice. "I came today to bring you wonderful news." The elves looked up at her as one, eyes shining in eager anticipation and delight.
"I came to tell you all that you elves do not have to slave away to your selfish masters, you need not spend your lives cooking and cleaning and scrubbing, for what sort of a life is that? You could be happy, you could be independent – you could be free!"
Oblivious to the elves dismayed faces, Hermione twirled her wand once in the air, with a glorious sense of deliverance, and conjured a small item of clothing in mid-air. She held it up before the eyes of the horrified crowd.
"Now, who wants a sock?"
There was instant uproar, as the elves instinctively shrank backwards, crying out, as far away from the sock as possible.
"No, you don't understand," cried Hermione desperately. "It is wonderful to be free, you just don't know it because you have always been under the chains of bondage! See now, one among you taste the sweetness of liberty – I will show you! Do not be afraid!"
And she tossed the sock into the terrified huddle of elves. Little bodies threw themselves left and right, squealing with fear, and the sock fell harmlessly to the floor. Silence – and then, an instant later, there was pandemonium. The elves threw themselves as one on Hermione, pushing and hitting her with their little fists as they had done once before, until she was thrown from the room entirely. She immediately felt drained, hopeless, wracked with both disappointment and guilt; she had not meant to frighten them so. She felt terrible for scaring the little creatures for which she felt such affection.
A sad sigh from the corner distracted her from her gloomy thoughts, and Hermione turned to see Dobby sitting huddled in a corner.
"Why, Dobby, whatever is the matter? Have you been here all this time?"
Dobby stared at her from mournful eyes, big and sparkling green. "No, Miss," he mumbled. "Dobby is only just getting here, Miss, but he is afraid to return to his dormitory, Miss."
"Why, Dobby? What are you afraid of?"
Dobby bowed his head, his bat ears drooping. "The other elves are not liking Dobby, Miss. They are thinking that Dobby is a bad influence on Winky and is a disgrace to them because he is free now, and they is saying that Dobby – that Dobby is a bad elf."
"Oh, Dobby," said Hermione sympathetically, moving over to sit beside the tiny elf. A huge tear welled up in one of Dobby's eyes, and trickled down his long, pencil-like nose.
"Dobby is hearing Miss talk to the other house elves, Miss, and he is pleased that Miss believes too that freedom is not a bad thing, but he wishes that his friends too believed that!"
"Of course it's not a bad thing!" said Hermione indignantly. "Don't you worry about what they say, Dobby. You alone of house elves know how wonderful it is to be free. Enjoy your freedom while you can."
But Dobby still looked miserable, and after a while, Hermione slipped an arm around his thin, jumper-laden body, and gave him a small hug. Dobby clung to her arm as though it was the one thing that could save him, and soon Hermione found that she had taken the elf up in the arms entirely, and was cuddling him, rocking him, soothing him.
"Dobby is afraid that his friends will never like Dobby no more!" sniffed the little elf in true misery, and Hermione stroked his head.
"There, there," she said quietly. "Maybe – just for a little while – you could not mention your freedom, and – and don't wear so many hats – and your friends will soon forget what they have said to you. They are lovely people at heart, you know. I love all house elves."
Dobby cuddled closer to Hermione, and smiled through his tears. She looked into his great jade-like eyes, which spoke volumes, and smiled back.
"Miss is very kind," he whispered. "As kind as her great friend, Harry Potter."
Knowing how high Harry stood in Dobby's eyes, Hermione felt honoured.
"Dobby likes Miss very much," added Dobby, allowing himself to relax completely in Hermione's comforting arms. "Dobby feels safe with Miss." And, exhausted by his tears, Dobby's eyelids closed, and he fell asleep, cradled into her.
Hermione felt the frailty of Dobby's tiny body against her own, and held him even closer, uncertain of the feeling stirring within her.
"I love all house elves," she repeated in a whisper. "But Dobby…" she added, for her ears only, the words surprising even herself. "Dobby… I think I could love you a little bit more."
And as Dobby lay, trusting, in her arms, Hermione leant over, and gently kissed the elf's small, dry lips.
She sat like that for a long time, her eyes now closed too, and it was only when she felt Dobby's lips move against her own that she remembered where she was and what she was doing. But the elf's eyes were now half-open, and a strange expression was in them, a reflection of the suppressed, hardly acknowledged feeling Hermione suddenly realised she had held for the elf – all elves, really, but the cheerful, good-willed Dobby especially - for so long. As she stared down at him, Hermione felt herself become lost in those beautiful green orbs. I
t was only when she heard hesitant footsteps sound outside in the dank passageway, and Harry's voice echo uncertainly on the walls, saying, "Hermione! Are you down here? Nearly Headless Nick said he saw you go down this way… Hermione?" that she became fully conscious of what she was doing; kissing a house elf. She stiffened with embarrassment as she saw from the corner of her eye, Harry, staring into the room. But she did not move. As she felt Dobby's trusting arms around her, and his ugly face wrinkled in an adoring grin, and Harry's stunned face withdraw hastily from the room, Hermione just bent closer to the happy elf, holding him tight, and let herself forget her troubles for a long, long while.
Thank you, Mistress of Craziness for the Hermione/Dobby idea! Any other weird and wacky pairing ideas will be considered – the crazier the better! I do have several more, ahem, interesting ideas myself ;)