Chapter 168
"He only needs his master to give him something to wear—clothes, socks, anything," Sirius explained patiently. Then he added, "There's also a tradition in our family. When a house-elf becomes too old to work, its head is cut off and mounted. My aunt started it."
"What?!"
Hermione clapped both hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. The cruelty of it made her stomach turn.
"If you had gone inside, you would've seen the mounted heads at the end of the corridor," Sirius continued, not noticing her reaction.
Nausea and anger surged through Hermione at the same time. The anger quickly overwhelmed everything else, burning in her chest.
"I want both of them to be free," she murmured, almost unconsciously walking toward the house.
She wasn't thinking clearly anymore.
---
With a crack, Dobby appeared in front of her, arms spread wide.
"Dobby feels the kindness of the lady! Dobby thanks you!"
Hermione stopped abruptly.
"But Dobby is very happy now! Master Malfoy is a good master!"
Hermione froze.
"He's enslaving you," she said seriously.
"Dobby is a free elf! This is Dobby's job! Dobby gets a salary!" Dobby insisted, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped.
"Salary…" Hermione repeated.
"I've never heard of a paid house-elf," Sirius said, surprised.
"Isn't working for pay normal?" Ron muttered.
Sirius looked at him calmly.
"A house-elf is legally considered its master's property unless freed. Do you pay your kitchen utensils?"
Ron fell silent.
Hermione lowered her head, her expression complicated.
She had just lost another reason to hate him.
For the first time, she found herself wishing Malfoy would do something cruel—something that would make it easier to resent him.
But he hadn't.
"I want to be alone for a while," she said quietly.
The others thought she was upset about house-elves.
They didn't know the real reason.
---
"Miss Parkinson, you've mastered it!"
Kreacher's voice trembled with suppressed joy.
After days of "training," he was finally free from torment.
Pansy eyed the dish skeptically, cut a piece of meat, and tasted it.
"It's… fine."
Her eyes curved into happy crescents.
"Tonight's dinner is mine," she declared proudly.
Then she added another order:
"You and Dobby go shopping. Buy anything. Don't come back before midnight."
Kreacher had no choice but to obey.
---
Upstairs, Draco was practicing Occlumency.
Salazar's appearance had made him realize his defenses were still imperfect.
A perfect Occlumency shield should not even reveal vigilance.
Clear your mind. If your enemy senses your caution, you've already lost.
Emotion and reason—only perfect control of both could form a flawless defense.
Draco slowly exhaled and withdrew from the state.
"Kreacher."
No response.
"Dobby."
Still nothing.
Did Pansy poison them? he wondered dryly.
He went downstairs.
---
"Draco, they've gone shopping," Pansy said quickly, not turning around.
"If I remember correctly, the supplies I brought would last a year," he said calmly.
Pansy stuck out her tongue.
"I wanted to show you my cooking."
"That sounds more believable," Draco nodded. "Then I'm looking forward to tonight."
"Turn around! The stew is burning!" she shouted, rushing back to the stove.
---
After Draco left, Pansy carefully carried the pot aside, blowing on her reddened hands.
"I'm almost there…"
Then she remembered something.
"The most important thing."
She ran upstairs, opened her suitcase, and took out two bottles.
Champagne.
Juice.
From her sleeve, she produced a small vial filled with a dreamy pink liquid.
She hesitated.
"What if I drink it too and become narcissistic?"
After a moment—
"I don't care!"
She poured the entire vial into the blueberry juice. The pink potion disappeared without a trace.
"Restore."
With a spell, the bottle looked unopened.
Now there were no flaws.
---
By evening, the dining room had completely changed.
No lamps—only candlelight.
Two heart-shaped candles.
Fresh roses.
Fine tablecloth.
A carefully arranged dinner for two.
Draco's eyes narrowed slightly.
I'll talk to her after dinner, he decided.
---
"Draco, to celebrate my progress, can you open some champagne?" Pansy asked carefully.
"I stole it from my father's cellar," she added, watching his reaction.
Draco took the bottle—
And placed it on the floor.
"Did you forget what happened last time in Hogsmeade?"
Then he picked up the other bottle instead.
"This one will do."