"Tag, you're it!" Draco took off like a shot, darting as quickly as his little legs could carry him. Dobby let out a shrill sound and stumbled to break his momentum. He scrambled around, regained his footing, and pumped his knobby little legs and bony little feet against the ground.
Laughter rang out in both their ears. Draco rounded a bush as Dobby gained on him. They danced about it for a moment, side stepping back and forth as each contemplated which way to go.
Finally Draco made a break for the way he came from and Doby sprang at him, swatting for his back. Dobby's hand landed flat in the centre of Draco's back and they both tumbled into the lush grass, still laughing.
Dobby breathlessly managed, "Tag, Master Draco sir!"
Drago laughed and curled his legs up to clutch his middle. It hurt from laughing so much. Dobby rolled back and forth in the grass, trying– to no avail– to control his giggles. Finally they hiccuped themselves back to heavy panting, catching their breaths from the running and laughter.
Draco lay all the way back into the grass with a sigh, staring up at the puffy clouds blotting the blue sky. He smiled as each cloud morphed slowly, becoming a perfectly-illustrated picture in Draco's mind.
"Look," Draco said softly, throat thick from laughing too much. He lifted his hand to the sky and pointed softly at the clouds, Dobby following the direction. "It's a bunny wearing a funny hat."
Dobby laughed. "Yes, Dobby sees it, Master Draco sir! And does Master Draco see that one?" He pointed up so Draco could know where. "Doesn't Master Draco think it looks like a cruppie?"
Draco frowned for a moment, trying to decipher which cloud Dobby meant, but he eventually spotted it and brightened. "Yes, it does! Aw, I want a cruppie. But Father says no."
"Maybe someday, Master Malfoy will say Master Draco can."
"Maybe," Draco sighed, turning his attention back to the sky. "Clouds are so funny."
"Dobby thinks so too."
"They look like sweets," Draco said. "I want to eat one."
"Perhaps, if Master Draco wants to eat one, he should catch one."
"Is that possible?"
"Dobby doesn't know, sir, but Dobby hasn't tried it."
Draco scrambled to his feet, craning his head back to look at the sky. The clouds were so high up, how was he ever supposed to get up there?
"Dobby thinks that perhaps Master Draco should try jumping," Dobby said, also on his feet.
Dobby was so smart, especially for a house elf. Draco grinned and tried hopping with his head up but it made him dizzy, so he looked forward again and leapt for the sky. He reached his fingers, straining them to go higher and higher, just waiting to feel the cloud with his finger tips.
Draco never reached the clouds, but he refused to allow that to hinder his efforts. Instead he simply imagined it and reached up with a shriek of glee, pretending there was something soft and puffy at his fingertips.
He cupped his hands on his mouth as Dobby looked over. Draco's eyes widened as the pretend cloud's flavour melted on his tongue. It tasted like everything he hoped and imagined it to taste like, sweet and satisfying in every way.
Draco told this to Dobby and again they flopped back into the grass, laughing until they could laugh no more.
Draco was five and could not be happier.
/
"Dobby is sorry, Master Draco, but Dobby must clean before Dobby can play."
"Then I'll clean with you," Draco said. He was bored, and he'd rather be doing something not-so-fun with the best elf house ever than sit in his room and stare at the wall, waiting.
Dobby shrank into himself. "Dobby isn't sure Master Malfoy will be pleased with Master Draco helping Dobby clean, Master Draco sir."
"I won't tell Fater if you don't," Draco said with a little giggle, holding up his pointer finger against his lips to show he meant it.
Dobby looked afraid for a moment, but slowly smiled. "Alright, Master Draco sir."
And so they went off cleaning together, talking and giggling quietly so no one would hear them.
Draco was seven and happy to have Dobby as (his only) friend.
/
"Dobby thinks that one is funny, Master Draco sir!" Dobby squeaked, jabbing a scraggly finger at the moving picture and giggling softly.
"Me too," said Draco. "I think there's one of me and you…" he trailed off, turning the page, and smiled softly at the moving image on the page of the boy and elf three years prior.
They both sat on the floor, toys strewn about, laughing and clapping as they played together. Mum had put that one in, even though Father didn't like it. They just didn't tell him of it.
Draco still couldn't understand why they treated Dobby so unkindly sometimes. Father was especially harsh to Dobby, kicking him about and treating him like a slave. So controlling, so relentless, so bossy.
But Dobby wasn't a slave, at least not to Draco. To Draco, Dobby was a friend. And the only one he had.
Draco was nine and clung to that feeling of happiness that he felt when he spent time with Dobby.
/
"Doesn't Master Draco sir wish to play with–"
"No, Dobby," Draco said, voice soft. "I don't feel like it."
"But will Master Draco sir feel like it later, Dobby wonders?"
"No," Draco said, fighting back the tears that tried to blur his vision and the words of the book he stared firmly at.
"Never, Master Draco sir?!" Dobby gasped.
"Never, Dobby."
"But Master Draco sir has always loved playing with Dobby and his toys. Master Draco and Dobby have had such wonderful times together and–"
"No, Dobby," Draco burst, his harshness startling even himself. But he refused to back down, refused to let those stinging tears fall. "I said never, didn't you hear me?!"
The look in Dobby's eyes shattered Draco's heart. Those huge, round eyes, pooling with so much confusion and fear. For a moment all Dobby could do was stare. Then his ears lowered as his hope drained.
"Dobby heard Master Draco." He lowered his head, looking at his feet. "Dobby must punish himself. Dobby said too much against Master Draco sir. Dobby is a bad elf, a very bad elf."
Draco realised what was happening a split second too late. Dobby sprang forward and Draco reached for him, toppling out of his chair. Dobby slipped away nimbly and bashed head-first into the table leg, slamming his head again and again.
"No, Dobby!" Draco screamed, fumbling around to grab the elf and rip him away.
Every knock of Dobby's head sent pain shuddering through Draco. Dobby had only done this because of Father, never because of Draco.
Draco managed to wrap his arms around the elf and drag him back with great effort. Dobby flailed and Drao struggled to keep him at bay, sitting back on his knees and hugging the elf close to him, head pressed into Dobby's back.
"Dobby, stop, please! Dobby, cut it out!" Draco cried, and finally Dobby's fighting ceased.
Draco cautiously loosed his grip on Dobby and let him free. Dobby stood unsteadily and turned to face Draco with that heart-splitting look on his face.
"I'm sorry, Dobby," Draco whispered, voice breaking with every word. "I can't play anymore, can I? I'm too old. Don't you see? I have to act my age. I have to be mature. I'm not a little kid anymore." He let out a shuddering breath. "No one plays with house elves, it's embarrassing to Father anyway."
"Dobby is sorry, Master Draco sir. Dobby never meant to make Master Draco cry, sir."
"What?" Draco reached up to his cheeks and discovered he was indeed crying. "N-no. It's not your fault. It's no one's. I just have to grow up now."
"Dobby understands, Master Draco sir," Dobby said, refusing to meet Draco's eyes. "Dobby thinks it was fun while it lasted, Dobby was very lucky to have Master Draco sir. Goodbye, Master Draco sir."
"No, Dobby, I–" Draco choked on his own breath, holding in a sob, and could say nothing as Dobby slowly turned and drifted from the room.
Draco sat there on the floor for a moment. It was cold against his knees and legs, and the room was dark. Everything was dark, dim, and diluted.
That was the way life worked, Draco knew now, and the fun was over.
Draco was eleven, and it was time for him to grow up.
It'd taken him long enough.