I always liked the garden
Dobby watched the young master water the flowers. He loved those flowers like they were his kids, going to the garden everyday to make sure they were healthy.
Dobby looked at his bandaged arms, the mistress wasn’t in a good mood today. He could still hear her shouting at Master. He sighed, watching young master Draco smile at the flowers.
The boy was so innocent, not questioning why his family was like that. Why his mother hit him, or why his father didn’t have much time for him. Master refused to him young master Draco, he loved him to much. The man was still bad, no bad dobby, he hit his head with his hands.
”Why are you hitting yourslef.” Young master Draco asked, a worried look on his face.
Young master was so young, he saw Dobby as an equal. He remembered the time when young master made a flower crown for him, saying that color looked good on him. He was happy that day.
”Dobby thought of something bad, young master.” Dobby had replied.
Young master frowned, then looked down to his flowers.
”But you shouldn’t hit yourself for doing something bad.” He muttered, then he looked at Dobby.”Would you like to garden with me?”
Dobby made a surprised noise, young master was so kind.
”Dobby would be honored young master.” Dobby replied, walking towards him.
”You can just call me Draco,” Young master Draco said “Young master Draco must be a mouthful.”
Dobby shock his head quickly, he couldn’t. Master would have his head cut of, or worse dangle him upside down in the dungeon for how long.
”Dobby wouldn’t dare to call young master Draco by just his name.” Dobby replied quickly
Young master made a face, then shrugged. Dobby then just realized that he, no young master bad Dobby!, was doing something. After a few minutes young master stopped and showed Dobby what he had made, a flower crown.
”The one I made you last time must have died.” Young master said as it was as normal to breath as young master Draco gesture Dobby to bend down.
Dobby bent down, not wanting to admit that yes, the flowers had died. Young master put the flower on his head and beamed up to Dobby.
”Color does look good on you.” Young master said in a mater of fact voice and then clapped.
It always calmed me
Dobby wouldn’t comment as young master got older, he became meaner. He wouldn’t comment when he stopped creating flower crowns for Dobby, or when he stopped talking to Dobby as an equal.
Young master never stopped gardening, but the smile on his face now gone. It was as if even gardening couldn’t give him happiness.
He didn’t comment as young master got thinner and thinner, more bandages appeared around his body. He started to talk like his parents, talked less, smiled less.
He didn’t comment as the young boy died and something colder came.
He didn’t dare say anything, he couldn’t.
He just watched as young master withered away.