A/N Better than than never right? Busy day in the Cybro household! Tomorrow is a toss up, will probably wait until Sunday to post. Just depends. Tomorrow will be my day with the hubs.

Chapter Ten

"Did you hear about Hooch?" was the whisper in the Great Hall the following Monday. It seemed that after the Quidditch game on Saturday when Slytherin gained a commanding victory over Ravenclaw that Harper tried to sneak a kiss with Madam Hooch that, naturally, everyone seemed to see firsthand and have details to share.

Hermione was careful to keep her details to herself, but she was pleased the couple was able to be open about their relationship. She just smiled and pretended to be surprised when it was mentioned. It was nice to still be in the closet herself, so to speak, but she wondered how long it would stay that way.

She had been reading up in her Fairy Godmother book from Minerva. It seemed that the issue of secrecy was a divided one. Some witches came out to their community, both with excellent and terrible results. Some witches were revered by their community and given a place of honor, but they were then inundated with requests from the people, not all of which could be granted. That's where the well came in. Its magical properties endued it with the ability to cull out only the genuine wishes and allowed it to help guide the Godmother toward knowing when the prime opportunity was to grant each one.

She still didn't know much about the fairy part of it all though. The original Godmothers were fairies, that much she knew. Apparently, the title just stuck. Oh well. She had been called worse things.

The Muggles got most of it right, though. There were fairies, and goblins, and witches, and dragons and trolls. And like any good fairytale, she had fought most of them and now apparently ascended to her next role.

She decided to search for some more coins, passing Severus on the way and just gracing him with a small smile as she went. Nothing had been spoken between them about the help he had given her, though he seemed to be less abrasive to her lately, almost as if she were now included in an inside joke between them.

With much progress made on her revisions for the book, she was ready to look back at the wishes. Her history had been penned up to her fourth year. That's when things would got more complicated with the return of Voldemort. She wanted to mull the next steps over a bit, and felt it was time to grant wishes.

As she let her fingers trail through the ripples of the cool water, a few coins rubbed against her fingertips and she scooped them up. She then laid them on the fountain's edge to dry while she read them. It was turning out to be great stress relief, knowing she was making people's dreams come true.

Neville, Filch, Mr. Borgin, hmm, that's interesting, but he's dead…ah, here we go.

Dobby. That was one she knew she could do.

Dobby wished wizards knew why he loved being a house-elf. And Hermione wanted to know why too. She wasn't daft enough to attempt to free them again without their consent but it was an utterly thankless, dirty, demeaning job. Dobby wanted to not live in an abusive environment, but he still very much wanted to be a house-elf and was relishing his time at Hogwarts. She was determined to ask him straight away why he loved what he did.

Wanting this meeting to be private, and wanting to keep the fountain private as well if the elves didn't already know about it, Hermione decided to just to go down to the kitchen to talk to Dobby. She was feeling peckish anyway.

"Dobby?" she called, ignoring how the hum of activity slowed down when she entered. It always did, but she wasn't sure if it's because a person was coming through or if it was because ishe/i was coming through. She didn't think she wanted to know the answer.

"Yes, Miss?" Dobby asked, wiping his hands on a towel. "You had more questions for Dobby?"

"Yes, actually." She led them both to a small wooden table that looked as though it had been there since the Founders. "I've been curious about something since I came here, and I probably should have just asked you outright but I didn't. Why do you like being a house-elf?"

Nearby elves gasped and paused what they were doing before renewing their activity again with vigor, clearly pretending not to eavesdrop.

"Why does Dobby like being an elf? Because that's what Dobby is, Miss," he told her, trying to explain with his hands. "There is things wizards need that they don't know they need, and only elves can do. Poor Muggles have to do without," he said sadly. "They is not knowing how to made baby not fussy and how to get rid of nargles. They has to hire others to help run a house! Dobby is not explaining right."

"But, you get nothing in return," Hermione said, bewildered.

"What did you get for helping Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley? Things is not just money things. Things is respect and pride. We is doing a good job. We is helpers."

"Can you show me?"

Dobby's eye grew impossibly wide. "Miss wants to be a house-elf?"

"Maybe just for a few days? I can just help you clean my quarters," she told him.

The elves behind her let out a collective gasp again.

"Oh no, Miss! It would be a disgrace to clean one's own things! The elves who are in charge would be very disturbed if Miss helped them clean. It would show them no respect. Miss will help Dobby with his rooms if you wish."

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. Maybe she just wouldn't make any suggestions from now on, and just let him lead. Clearly she didn't know anything about elves. "When should I meet you?"

"We starts work about five chimes of the bell."

Five in the morning. Wonderful. She sighed. "Okay. I'll be here."

The following morning, Hermione rubbed her blurry eyes and sipped on some hot fresh coffee an elf handed her the moment she walked in. Apparently besides cleaning, they kept an eye on the habits of the people. They knew she wasn't a morning person.

Dobby came and inspected her appearance. Trainers, denims, a basic tee and her hair up. She was planning on getting her hands dirty, not really knowing anything about how elves actually cleaned. Did they have an all-encompassing cleaning spell or was everything done the Muggle way? She was prepared either way and had brought her wand but left her robes.

"Dobby will transport us from room to room. Much time will be saved that way. Dobby will know when each professor leaves for the day, and then we will clean. If a professor doesn't leave, then they summon us if we is needed. Laundry elves will get the clothes and kitchen elves get the dishes if we don't send them down. Miss is ready?"

"Sure, Dobby, but did you say profess-?"

Hermione never got to finish as Dobby grabbed her hand and they whirled into space, appearing in a large suite. The bed covers were made back up, the robes were folded neatly on the floor, and a vase was out of place.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked softly, as if afraid of disturbing the occupant.

"We is in the Headmistress' rooms. She always starts early and so we start here. Headmistress is very tidy, it won't take long."

Hermione asked what she could do and Dobby, pleased she was an eager helper, set her to Banishing the clothes and dusting the shelves with a charm. Her eyebrow rose as her foot hit a little jingling ball. She took the cat toys and placed them in a basket with the others. Dobby used his magic to summon any dirt from the carpet and curtains which seemed to vanish into thin air, then the carpet fluffed. Hermione emptied the trash and dusted her liquor collection the Muggle way. She didn't know much about alcohol, but the bottles seemed both vintage and expensive.

Soon, one of Dobby's ears perked. "Professor Hagrid is gone. Let's be quick, his morning walk of the ground is quick with his giant stride."

Hermione groaned. Cleaning Hagrid's hut was not her idea of a good morning. She needed more coffee for this. He had to be one huge half-giant bachelor. But resolutely, she stuck out her hand and allowed herself to be whisked away.

It was as bad as she had feared. Tempted as she was to pinch her nose or cast a Bubblehead charm, she simply began to Banish the dirty socks and moldy dishes, and opened the windows.

"You is a natural," Dobby told her in admiration.

"Thanks," she told him, not sure if she should be pleased or not. Her critical mind took in his haphazard placement of books, herbs, and the general chaos of the hut. "Do you guys ever straighten or organize?"

"We can," said Dobby. "But there is much to do in the castle. If we is asked, we do, but otherwise we keep to daily cleaning."

"Hmm."

She took out her wand and began to shuffle Hagrid's belongings.

"Take care to be quick, Miss. Professor will be back shortly and we take care not to be seen."

"Why is that?" she asked offhanded as she shelved his books by subject matter.

Dobby swept the rough hewn wood floors. "We is not wanting to be a bother. And we don't need the recognition. Elves isn't doing it for thanks. We is doing it because humans need us to, and we feel good knowing we is helping."

"So," Hermione asked him as she finished placing all of the potted herbs in the windowsill, "if you won't take money for your work, what would you take? What would make you happy?"

"Ah, there is what Miss should have asked years ago," said Dobby. He held his hand out, which she took and she knew at once they were in Professor Sprout's rooms. She wondered if she would have to clean Neville's as well. "Elves are loyal to their family. Seeing their family happy is the best thing. Like a mother watching her children grow. It's pride in the work well done. Being a good elf. But if a family wants to mistreat an elf, we would like to free ourselves. Not be bound until clothes."

Hermione gave him a weary glare as she attempted to clean dirt off ieverything/i, while Dobby seemed to be able to do it in a snap.

"Most wouldn't. In fact, possibly none would. But just knowing we can if an elf is in a house like Dobby was. Mistreated! Elves is also liking sweets and pretty things. Soft things for our babies."

Hermione thought about that. "You must have a home somewhere too then."

He nodded and explained they took turns and cleaning for each other while the others did household chores. Elves were never really given anything for their own home though, she supposed, beyond maybe the basics. That was something she could look into.

Going through the rooms allotted to Sprout, Hermione was surprised, but maybe not as surprised as she thought she would be, to find a hookah, several small tins of dried herbs, and some rolling papers. She didn't say a word and simply cleaned and straightened them before again they moved on.

She found a similar tin in Neville's room, appropriately labeled "Longbottom Leaf." Shaking her head, she went to the next professor's rooms.

Looking around, she knew exactly where she was this time. "Professor Snape's quarters," she stated and Dobby nodded.

"We is having to be very careful in here. Not as much as when the Professor was on two sides, but there are making things that can break or cause harm to Missy."

"I'll be careful."

She took to what had become her chores in each room, emptying wastebaskets, taking care of laundry and the like. Her eyes lingered on little details she wasn't able to take in under Severus's watchful eye. The art on his walls, simple landscape tapestries. No personal photos that she could see. Mostly tidy with an empty mug of tea on a side table next to an open book face down.

A few journals were on the shelves, and one was on his desk. His research, from what she could tell; each book was labeled with dates. She left them in case he was in the middle of a project, and instead straightened his bedcovers. It seemed he was a restless sleeper, the sheets twisted and partially pulled off the bed. "How many elves do you work with Dobby?"

"Many elves help," he told her, "but only Dobby and Winky is allowed in these rooms." He clearly meant it as a badge of honor, that he had Severus's trust not to mess with anything he shouldn't. Winky was an odd choice, she thought. Perhaps he was giving her a second chance at belonging to a family. The thought made her sad.

Picking up a discarded robe, she went to hang it in his closet, but she had trouble pulling back the door. Something seemed to be caught. Afraid to just tug, she wiggled her fingers in, freed the piece of rather delicate-feeling fabric and slid the door open.

"Whoa. Dobby? Is this usually in here?"

She stepped back to give the elf room to see. Inside, taking up most of the available space, was a large, poofy gown. Red taffeta flowed down to meet a skirt of white in waves. A sweetheart neckline sat on top of a vee-shaped bodice, the bodice studded with silver and gold jewels and brocade. A deep red matching shawl was wrapped around the hanger.

"That is your dress," Dobby told her in a tone that didn't leave room for argument, but Hermione still tried.

"My dress? First, I don't own a dress like that, and second, why is it here?"

"That is a Godmother dress," Dobby told her. "And you is the Godmother. The dress appears where it think it should."

"But what if I never came in here?" she asked, flabbergasted.

Dobby shrugged. "Dress knew you would." He snapped his fingers and Hermione's mouth stood agape as the dress left its hanger and slowly dropped over her head, her clothes disappearing beneath it as it lowered. "Take a look."

Hermione suddenly felt extremely nervous, as though the dress were an animate object and would reject her as being not good enough. Who decided when she got a dress and why? Could it be revoked? From what she had read, the dress was one of the final steps in becoming officially recognized as a Godmother. It's what she would wear to public and formal functions if she decided to make her identity known.

Stepping slowly over to the mirror, she was surprised at how light the gown felt, listening to it swish on the floor. Finally summoning the courage to look, she took in her whole appearance.

She was beautiful. The only thing she needed was a necklace and a hairpiece and the look would be complete.

She wasn't able to look for long, however, when Dobby suddenly hissed, "Out! Quick!"

They heard the wards being released outside the professor's door. Thankfully he was meticulous and a little paranoid, the complex wards buying them a few moments. When Professor Snape walked in his room to grab the journal he had forgotten on his desk, his heart completely stopped beating as he paused in his tracks.

"'How we all enjoy letting loose with a little la-da-da-dum-dum'-Oh. Excuse me, sir. We thought you'd be gone a while," said Hermione stopped singing from her tip-toes on his sofa, dusting the gilded edges of a picture frame with her feather duster, wrapped in nothing but a Hogwarts monogrammed tea towel.

"Miss is working with elves," Dobby explained from his spot sweeping under the couch. "Miss is learning for her book."

"Yes! Exactly! My book! Not much research was done on the elves and you know that I-"

"Pardon me," he told her in a tight voice, "I just came for my book. I really must get to class."

"Oh, of course. We'll just finish up and be off."

Severus grabbed the book and quickly shut the door behind him, resting against the cool stone wall and waiting for his heart to catch up. My Gods, she was stunning. Her flushed cheeks, her riotous curls piled haphazardly on top of her head, and those legs…

He needed to get a grip before going to class. Thankfully he actually had almost quarter of a hour before he was due to report.

"DOBBY!" Hermione hissed as soon as he was gone. "What were you thinking?!" She quickly switched her towel to her original clothes.

"Dobby panicked!" he shot back.

Hermione sat down for a moment, rubbing her forehead with her hands. "Alright, damage is done. Let me take the dress to my room."

They made quick work of retrieving the dress from his closet and putting it on hers before carrying on with the rest of the rooms, which were thankfully mostly uneventful.

But she was never going to ask Trelawney about her sticky crystal balls.

A/N: Inspiration for the dress: tinyurl dot com backslash mac35e6