"Have you noticed any House Elves lately?"

Draco watched as Hermione's stomping progress out of the room came to a sudden halt at the doorway. She didn't move for a very long time, just stood, completely motionless, with her back to him. And then the tiniest of movements, like a small shiver and she had stumbled listlessly out of the room. She hadn't looked back. Not even a glare…

He sighed again, heavily, and hated himself for it. Well, it wasn't like he expected her to leap into his lap and shower him with hugs and kisses of thanks. Hoped, maybe, but he certainly hadn't expected it. But he had managed to get the last word in, Draco could at least find comfort in that.

Slumping down further in his chair, Draco groaned. Hermione was entirely too idealistic for her own, and everyone around her's, good.

A few scant years ago Draco would have accused her of being a bleeding heart, or a do-gooder and it would have been exactly that, and accusation. It had taken him a long time to realise that it wasn't all motivated by some desire for self promotion, martyrdom for hopeless causes or a self-righteous belief that she was superior to everyone else and they had all better just get into line behind her. It was a lesson that was still taking its time to sink in; he was still somewhat inclined to roll his eyes when she got particularly fired up (and hence found it safer to keep them closed rather let the telling movement show). When Draco realised her advocacy wasn't all just some ludicrously complicated revenge plot against purebloods that Hermione honestly believed in the equality of magical beings as a means for the betterment of society, he started to believe it too. Not immediately, of course. One doesn't simply wake up one morning and throw off all his old beliefs just like the bed sheets. And maybe Hermione hadn't been the only one to wake him up to the error of his ideas, but she had been the start…

The trouble was she wanted everything to change without delay. As much as she liked to extensively research, find out every possible piece of information about the issues, plan, and approach the problem from all the angles, Hermione thought all her battles would be like the Battle of Hogwarts; hard and brutal, with blood spilt on both sides but finished quickly enough, and with a decided victor. She thought because she believed in a cause so wholeheartedly and cared so deeply for it, that it would only be a matter of time and a few lectures before other people believed in it too. The world didn't work like that. She had believed and lectured and argued and he hadn't changed, at least not outwardly nor immediately. Draco knew better than most that change was a slow process; it was more like her first six years at Hogwarts, a series of small wins which all could have just as easily ended as defeats, you learnt things along the way and made plans, abandoned strategies until at the end of it there was eventually a sense of hard-won achievement. Hopefully, in this circumstance he would have better success at keeping it out of the newspapers.

There was a time when he would have considered any problem too big to fix by throwing the weight of his name and money around not worth his time. But now Draco also knew, had only just recently found out, the particular pleasure to look back at the end of it all and think 'it was worth all that effort, I was on the right side'. Because for most of his life he hadn't been right, he had been rich (and yes, there was a difference). For a man who had felt for most of his childhood that success and respect were his birthright and not the rewards of hard work and effort, it had come as a shock during the War to realise that neither side actually respected him.

He had known that the members of the Order and their supporters didn't respect him, although it had been a source of continual irritation and the root of a lot of his antagonism towards Gryffindors in general and three of them in particular. It had been a nasty surprise to learn that the Death Eaters didn't particularly respect him either; not before he was asked to prove himself to Voldemort and certainly not after. True, there were people on either side that were perhaps in awe of his family name or his wealth but it had taken a very hard lesson to force Draco to realise that awe was in fact different to respect.

Awe was something he inherited, that would have been afforded to anyone lucky enough to be born Malfoy or heir to a large fortune, which could turn to derision quickly enough when the integrity of the Malfoy name was soiled or their fortunes lost. In another time and place he may have just settled for that awe and not even realised that he was 'settling'. But respect was something entirely different; respect he would have to earn. It would be gained only through time and his own actions and choices, but once he had gained it, it would be entirely his, not something his father had bought him, that he had taken from someone more deserving or that he had too easily won on account of his notoriety alone. Draco wanted to prove himself or perhaps, more accurately, prove to himself that he could be more. And it wouldn't be a total loss if he could prove it to a couple of other people as well… He wanted to be remembered as something more than just another rich, handsome snob or the latest in a long line of evil, baby-killing Malfoys. So, maybe that was a little bit selfish… but wasn't it possible to be right, do right and get something out of it? It didn't all have to be hard work and blind self-sacrifice with no return!

Harry Potter, the Grand Duke of Good, was currently the most beloved public figure in Wizarding Britain (closely followed by the newest Wizard boy band Ennerv8). As much as he hated to admit it, Draco knew he would probably never manage to eclipse Potter. He just couldn't match the litany of selfless acts and heroics – indeed, there was not as much calling for them these days but surely it was in his powers to orchestrate a victory for good without actually being good?

He just might be able to give those fruity warblers a run for their money.

Draco grinned. He simply wouldn't be Slytherin if he didn't try.

Then an accusing voice rudely shook him out of his introspection.

"Alright! What have you done to the House Elves?!"

He was a complete and utter wanker. An arse-faced wanking wanker… Except that he wasn't… He had been – once – but it was becoming increasingly clear that he wasn't any more. She couldn't work out what that made him now.

At first she thought he had made his point about the House Elves just to have the last word in the argument. She felt it had been an accusation of sorts. He was mocking her, saying she had given up on her principles and had stopped noticing the House Elves; taking their hard work for granted like everyone else. That had stopped Hermione in her tracks. It was true, she hadn't noticed! She felt mortified. She could not face him, would not be able to look him in the eye after she had acted so sanctimoniously.

Halfway down the hallway, Hermione changed her mind. She wasn't so changed; she would have noticed House Elves had they been around the castle. Which could only mean that they weren't in the castle… and that begged the question, where were the House Elves? Draco's question wasn't an accusation at all, it had been a threat.

It had clearly been a taunt, 'Don't anger me, I could make you disappear. I got rid of the House Elves, didn't I?'

Hermione had turned around and retraced her steps, mind set on confronting Draco. Well, more accurately she had stormed back in, barked out an question and before he even had a chance to react, she had started flinging about accusations about what exactly he had likely done to the House Elves. She had also had some pretty inventive suggestions for what he could do to himself, just in case he was interested.

It was all rather embarrassing to look back on.

Without really giving him time to answer she had demanded that he show her, tell her what he had done and all but dragged him along behind her as she left the library. Draco had watched her bemusedly, then had thrown off her arm and marched in the exact opposite direction. After a few long strides he stopped, turned and waited for Hermione to follow him.

"Well?"

She would have preferred to lead the way, but truth be told she had no idea where to go and would certainly become lost if she tried. Instead she followed Draco, seething silently.

Draco had not offered any explanations or excuses while she followed him through numerous corridors and up staircases until he had stopped, opened a door and allowed her to see the truth for herself.

The palace actually did still have House Elves.

Three House Elves: Tipty, Grinko and Forsythe. They were possibly the oldest House Elves she had ever seen. Their skin resembled tree bark more than any other substance, they had about nine teeth between them and several long white hairs were growing on Tipty's chin, Grinko's ears and one corner of Forsythe's upper lip. Upon being introduced they bowed low and Hermione could have sworn she heard their bones creak.

"Six years ago laws were enacted to free all House Elves from their indentured labour. It wasn't a particularly easy move to make, and it certainly wasn't popular at the time, but for the most part people have accepted it now. In order to optimise the success of the measures, they were shown to have the full support of the royal family. However, while the other Royal House Elves had been freed and resettled and employed elsewhere, these three elected to stay on (refused to leave, more like it)."

Hermione flinched and shame-facedly avoided his level gaze. She would really have to stop losing her temper if every time she made a rash move it ended with Draco having the upper hand. His voice lowered considerably, but his words lost none of the frost his cold tone imparted.

"Most other Elves have been employed in state enterprise, or kept on as waged employees by their original families. These three are too old to be of much service, and until recently few individuals considered suitable who could afford to pay wages for unproductive workers. Since they refuse to retire, they have been kept on here and shall remain here indefinitely," his voice regained his natural timbre, but Hermione was miserable to hear the keen mocking edge return as well. "You shouldn't have cause of concern though, they are restricted to cleaning only one wing of the palace and given light tasks even then. They have been provided with clothes, which all three refuse to wear. They are paid – grudgingly – and entitled to holidays and sick days, which they probably never take. On the whole they keep to themselves and despite attempts at rehabilitation they are still happiest being ordered around, although now they do make a concession to the use of the word 'please', as long as they were still shouted at – House Elves are weird like that. So you see, I am far from all those names you called me. Elf rights are protected here, even from their own selves."

Her voice was hardly above a whisper, "This is quite amazing. I can't believe… You must have–"

"Hardly. I'm not the crusading hero, remember? House Elves are remarkably industrious and efficient. It can take as many as three wizards to do the work of one indentured Elf. When they are not magically compelled to do so, a free Elf has a labour output almost equal to your average wizard. So you see, freeing them actually creates employment opportunities for witches and wizards. It may be menial labour, but in a country such as this, there can be considerable competition even for those jobs." And then in a voice absolutely devoid of emotion, "Emancipating the Elves was a move that benefited Cythera."

With that, Draco spun on his heel and strode angrily, but smoothly, out of the room.

Hermione lingered, mulling over his words and watching the old Elves slowly go about their business.

Evidently House Elves were still House Elves even if they did work in a palace. Tipty and Grinko grumbled about the good old days when a good Elf worked a full day and half the night for nothing more than a box on the ear and enjoyed it(!) and Forsythe nodded away or smacked his lips absentmindedly. But they all seemed happy enough, content to polish already shining utensils and dust spotless ornaments.

Hermione's final conclusion was that Draco Malfoy either wasn't as big an arsehole as he liked to pretend or that in his opinion she ranked even lower than House Elves, who were among the most marginalised and unloved creatures in the magical world. Neither option was entirely satisfactory.

Maybe he was still a wanker then... just a different sort.

Still, if nothing else this whole thing proved that anyone could change. If the only thing she got out of this was the fact that Draco Malfoy had changed (even if it was only towards House Elves), then she could go back home and tell Harry and Ron they had been wrong about him and be glad for it. And it would make the "Why?" and "How could you?" and "He's a MALFOY, Hermione. A disgusting, stinking, baby killing demon-spawn Malfoy!" conversations just that little bit easier to handle... Not that she particularly wanted to be the one to change him, mind you.

And now that she came to think about it, Hermione wasn't planning on ever having the "demon-spawn" discussion if she could help it... even for the new softer, kinder different-class-of-wanker Draco Malfoy...

A/N: This is more Chapter 12 (cont.) than a stand alone chapter in itself. So instead of one decent sized chapter you get two pretty pathetic-sized ones... I want no complaints because at least it arrived on time. There must be festive season magic in the air or something...

And seeing as you have all been nice Santa, or a similar friendly non-denominational gift bearer, has a bit of a last minute gift (insert plug here) in the form of a short little stocking-filler-story, 'Your Call Could Not Be Connected' ... alright, I'll admit it, "Santa" was really just me dressed up in a big red fat suit... you should still read it though - check my author profile! Happy Holidays and an even better New Year!