"Oh," he said, turning back to her. "I know he's only twelve, and we're all insensitive arseholes around then, but any guy who sends you crying into a bathroom isn't exactly the kind of friend you should be looking for."
"Ron's not that bad all the time," Hermione said, though truth be told he was more Harry's friend than he was hers; more of a friend by association. If only he had the brains that usually went with an interest in chess he might not be bad at all, just a little lazy.
"Just take it as said," he said, holding his hands up again in his 'I'm only saying this to fulfill my obligations under the Parental Code of Conduct' way of doing things.
When he opened the door quite a bit of noise wafted in from downstairs. Her father stuck his head out to see what was going on.
"It looks like this place just got a lot more popular," he said. "You might want to grab the bathroom while you can, but I'm going first!" he grinned and darted out.
Shaking her head, Hermione closed the door and went about organizing everything from the bundle her mother had sent. It didn't take long, it was very spartan. Lamenting her mother's choice in clothing, she picked up the white long-sleeved top she had been given that Christmas and never worn. While the sleeves no doubt served to make the bundling process easier, it wasn't what you'd want to wear on a summer day when you might get nervous around your… interest?
Hermione paused for a moment to try and classify precisely what category she and Harry fit into now before having to give it up as a bad job. 'It's probably more of a spectrum than rigidly defined categories anyway,' she thought.
"I wish she had sent the light-weight blue top of mine," she murmured to herself.
There was a bounce of bed springs behind her, making Hermione spin around, expecting to see that her father poised and ready to spring and surprise her. Thankfully, he wasn't there. What was laid out on the bedspread, however, was the light-weight light blue top she had wanted.
Hermione knew she was probably imagining things and items you wanted randomly appearing might be par for the course for magical inns, but she couldn't shake the feeling there was someone else in the room. Had Harry sent Dobby to make sure she had everything she needed?
"I'd like my blue handled hairbrush?" she tentatively asked the room.
On the desk to her right, her favorite blue handled hairbrush slightly rocked back and forth as if someone had just set it down.
"And my bathrobe?" she asked, peering around hoping to see Dobby this time.
On the far side of the room, a house-elf appeared. But it wasn't Dobby. With a gesture her pink bathrobe appeared on a peg by the door.
"Hello," Hermione said before the creature could disappear again. She walked over and couched down so she wouldn't tower over it. Dark of hair and eye, this house-elf looked decidedly female. "Do you work here?" she asked.
The little creature gave a cute little curtsy before shaking her head.
"Oh, no, Miss Knee," she said eagerly. "Mister Lichy sent me."
Hermione knew there was only one person 'Mister Lichy' could be.
"So you must be Mipsy?"
"Oh, yes, Miss," Mipsy nodded. "Mister Lichy said he's your littergator, and that means yous like family," she beamed.
...
The odd little thing was still trotting back and forth to the table when the floo flared. Her brothers descended on Harry almost as soon as he arrived.
"So how'd it go?" George asked.
"Was it really as mad as Ron said?" Fred wanted to know.
"Boys! Leave him alone," their mother said from her spot at the table next to Ginny. "Good to have you back, Harry, you're just in time," she said with a smile.
"Thanks," he said, running a hand through the ugly moppy hair of his before turning to the elf who was floating dishes piled high with food to the table. "How are you feeling, Dobby?"
"Dobby is feeling much better, Harry Potter, sir," the strange little creature said.
"Where'd you get a house-elf?" George asked as the guys made their way to the table.
"Yeah, usually they come with huge old mansions and places like that," Ron said as he took his place on Harry's right. Harry didn't as much as look at her.
"Mum's always wanted one, of course," Fred put in as the guys bunched together on the far side of the table by her dad.
"And who wouldn't? They're wonderful creatures," her mother gushed before patting the little thing on its head as it passed by. "We would have gotten one years ago, but we could never find anyone who'd even consider parting with theirs."
Harry looked kind of uncomfortable, like he didn't want to discuss the elf. Where had he gotten one though? They were supposed to be really hard to come by. Before they could press him any further her mother came to the rescue.
"And just where do you think you're going, little mister?" she asked the elf as it was walking off, the table having been set.
It didn't look like it knew how to respond.
"D-Dobby just be going to start the laundry, ma'am," he said pointing to the area her mother always used to wash and sort laundry.
"Oh, ma'am, listen to him," her mother smiled, "He's so nice. You can start on it later, if Harry wants you too, but there's a rule in this house: whenever possible, the family eats together," she said firmly before turning to Harry. "I hope you don't mind, dear."
"Not at all," Harry smiled.
"Come on, Ginny, budge up," her mother said, giving her a shooing motion as she moved to make room between them.
With a twirl of her wand, their old wooden high chair appeared and before Ginny knew what was happening, the elf was sitting right next to her with a stunned expression on its face.
"Good news," Fred said, leaning over to her and absolutely failing to hide how funny he found the situation. "Looks like you're not the baby anymore, Gin-gin."
That seemed to be the last thing anyone had to say to her. With the boys talking amongst themselves and her mum preoccupied with keeping the 'it's-not-a-baby' house-elf from wandering off, for the rest of the meal it seemed like she didn't exist.
They didn't even acknowledge her presence when they brought up the Hogwarts Hopefuls meeting the next day. Ginny thought the least they could've done was invite her to go, she had almost been a Hopeful after all. She might have wanted to be not treated like a baby anymore, but she didn't want to be forgotten.
"With it not being until noon," her mother was saying to Harry, "it gives you plenty of time to have a bit of a lie-in.""If one of them is mistreated, then why don't they just leave? And sure, everyone likes to feel welcome but how is that supposed to keep them alive? Do they die from not being liked? And why the compulsion to work; how do they gain energy by expending it?" her father asked in a rapid-fire way. "Is it work they feed on, the food Lawyerman hinted at, or the magic of the person they work for? And where do they sleep, some unused part of the attic? Oh! Are they like Brownies?"