Anchor and Rose | Dramione

Twenty.

Kreacher was a brittle old elf with a long droopy nose and withered skin.

He had apparated into the Lovegood home with his small hand wrapped tightly around Luna's forearm moments after Xenophilius had finished prodding Draco's arm with the green blade and disappeared outside with a watering can. Kreacher shook his head slightly like he had become dizzy before looking around, his eyes instantly falling over Hermione who was sitting at the dining table with her legs crossed.

"Hello, Kreacher," Hermione spoke, ignoring the scoff from beside her. Draco had no intention of being nice to the elf, she knew that. "Thank you for joining us. Please sit down."

Luna excused herself, but not before placing a pile of letters tied with an identical string to the ones left by Regulus, onto the table.

Kreacher scowled at her. His beady eyes were glossed over, reflecting against the irredentist light coming from the Lovegood's seashell chandelier.

Hermione felt confused at his reaction.

Luna had stated that Kreacher "often spoke of Draco and Narcissa". It seemed odd that he had not jumped up and down excitedly, in the same way Dobby did every-time he saw Harry, Ron and Herself.

But then again Kreacher had never actually met Draco.

"Who has Miss brought Kreacher to meet?" Kreacher spoke, his voice coming out croaked and torn. He sounded much much older than Dobby, he looked much older, too. "Kreacher does not recognise these wizards."

He seemed apprehensive but stepped closer to the table just slightly.

"I'm Hermione Granger-"

Before Hermione could finish speaking, the elf was lurching towards her with a malevolent stance, his words coming out venomous-yet fearful.

"You're Potter's filthy little Mudblood!"

The chair beside Hermione scratched the floor as Draco stood and lurched back at Kreacher.

"Know your worth elf! Speak to her like that again and I'll have your head on a stick!" Draco spat, scowling when Hermione yanked the back of his black blazer to pull him back into his seat.

Kreacher cowered back into a shadow for a moment before re-emerging. He seemed a little shaken at Draco's outburst-Like a wizard hadn't threatened him in a while.

"Sit down." Draco said through his teeth.

Hermione could feel the anger radiating from his body beside her, his fists were curled into balls on the table.

"Kreacher meant no real offence, sir." Kreacher spoke as he climbed up onto the chair. Hermione heard his bones creak. "Kreacher has been taught that the best wizards are not Mudblood's, sir."

Kreacher began looking at Draco while squinting.

"And yous is?" Kreacher asked, resting his small, wrinkled hands on the table.

Draco scoffed. Hermione glanced at him and watched him cock his head to the side to crack his neck like he was preparing for a battle. Hermione had repeatedly told him to treat the elf with respect. Draco of course had rolled his eyes at her request and told her that "elves would only be respected if they deserved it." She assumed Draco definitely did not believe Kreacher deserved his respect-Hermione didn't know why. Mudblood seemed to be Draco's favourite insult as well.

While it upset her, Hermione didn't let the insult fester. Most elves were enslaved by Pure-Blood families, taught that Pure-Blood's held the highest regime of Wizarding Power. She knew he meant no real offence.