"I don't want my wife to have too much of this emotional burden. The world is bad enough already; I just want you to only have me in your heart," Draco said softly.
Hermione froze, her heart pounding wildly as if struck by something.
She wanted to spout some profound truths, but found herself utterly speechless, and could only mutter in embarrassment and frustration:
"... Stop saying such mushy things."
Draco smiled and reached out to gently pat her head, his touch as tender as if he were handling a rare treasure.
"Okay, enough with the mushy talk," he said, his eyes sparkling with laughter, "Let's just say the facts—you're mine, that's enough."
Hermione then shifted the topic, naturally moving from Scrope's experience to the plight of all House-elf.
"I never... ever thought there was anything wrong with this before."
Her gaze drifted somewhat to the fireplace flames, as if she were returning to that summer when they first met.
"The first one I saw was Dobby. Although he was wearing a dirty pillowcase, and although the atmosphere at the Malfoy Manor was oppressive, Dobby had a place to live and something to do."
"My uncle wasn't gentle with it, but he never treated it cruelly like livestock. At that time, I really thought that was what the House-elf was really like."
Hermione's fingers unconsciously traced the rim of the bowl.
"Later Dobby also told me that you would secretly buy it small gifts, and even pay it wages behind your father's back..."
"Back then, I naively thought that all wizarding families were pretty much the same, just that some heads of families were stricter and some were more lenient, but essentially they were all about 'deep affection between master and servant'."
"That's what it says in textbooks too; they are born to serve, and freedom is a great humiliation to them."
"I believed the books, for a long time, and never doubted whether there was another truth hidden behind this so-called 'nature'."
Hermione's voice lowered, her eyes refocusing, a belated sense of heaviness and sorrow flickering within them:
"Until I saw Scrope."
That poor little creature, merely because it wasn't killed outright but only had one ear cut off, actually felt grateful to the one who enslaved it.
"It was at that moment that I realized perhaps the plight of House-elf wasn't a matter of 'each family's upbringing,' but rather..."
She was stuck, unable to find a suitable word to describe the deep-seated sorrow.
Draco looked at her quietly, his eyes less playful than usual and more heavy with the weight of history.
He took over the conversation and revealed the truth:
"That's a problem left over from ancient times."
"The wizards discovered that the House-elf possessed such powerful domestic magic that they eventually subdued them."
"Over time, this 'conquest' gradually evolved into institutionalized 'enslavement,' which was passed down from generation to generation."
"Books are written by wizards, and history is written by the victors, so of course these histories of conquest won't be included."
"And Pure-blood families are the beneficiaries; who would willingly bring up the crimes of their ancestors?"
Over time, this became 'a matter of course'.
Hermione's heart clenched, a terrible thought flashing through her mind, "What about... the House-elf of Hogwarts? Are they like that too?"
Her voice trembled slightly as images of those small figures bustling about in the kitchen flashed through her mind.
"They're mainly responsible for cooking," Draco nodded, answering truthfully. "All the food in the Great Hall is prepared by them and then magically teleported to the long table."
"Compared to the House-elf in some wizarding families who are often beaten and even killed, they are perhaps 'lucky,' at least their lives are safe."
Their only 'misfortune' is that they never need rest and are always working."
Hermione's face turned pale instantly, her eyes filled with shock and guilt.
"I... I used to take it all for granted every day," Hermione said, her voice trembling with remorse.
"I had no idea they were working tirelessly, unseen all along."
Hermione now knew the whole truth! She understood the injustice of the House-elf system itself—a cruel system built on the deprivation of willpower.
But at the same time, she felt very conflicted:
She couldn't simply label the Malfoy family as "evil slave owners" because she had personally witnessed Dobby's genuine smile and Draco's private kindness.
She still opposed the entire system of slavery, still felt that wizards should not treat House-elf as possessions, and still wanted to fight for their true right to choose.
After a moment of silence, Hermione said with a firm and resolute look in her eyes, "I don't want to eat Hogwarts food anymore."
This wasn't a decision made out of spite, but rather a decision she made from the bottom of her heart.
She truly felt that she could no longer enjoy the food made by these forced laborers with a clear conscience; every bite she swallowed felt like a torment to her conscience.
"Then eat what I made," Draco said.
Hermione seemed surprised as well.
She had initially thought Draco would call her childish or say she was making a mountain out of a molehill; after all, it was just a meal, and thousands of people across the school were eating it—were they all supposed to stop eating?
But he didn't.
Hermione remained silent for a long time, so long that the air around her seemed to freeze. Finally, as if she had made up her mind:
I want to start SPEW.
Upon hearing this, Draco did not show any surprise.
Instead, it hits the nail on the head:
"You want to establish a ' Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare,' no problem. But to be honest, given the current situation, it's unlikely to bring about any substantial change."
Hermione was shocked.
She stared at the man before her in disbelief.
He... he actually understood?
I didn't think she was being absurd or making a fool of herself.
She even accurately uttered the complete name she had kept in her heart, a name she had never told anyone before—SPEW.
At that moment, Hermione suddenly felt that...
Everything he did made her more panicked and her heart race more than ever before.
Hermione stared at him, stunned. "You... you know what it means? You know what SPEW stands for?"
Seeing her shocked and bewildered expression, Draco smiled and looked at her, "How could I not understand you, Hermione?"
Just this one sentence.
Without flowery words or exaggerated vows, it precisely broke down all the defenses in her heart.
Hermione suddenly couldn't speak. It was as if something was choking her throat, and a thousand words were stuck in her chest, finally turning into silence.