the_debt_of_time

Tilly looked uneasy. Her gaze shifted to Mia, who had finally put the book down
and walked over. "Tilly will leave... if.. ." she began to say, but she hesitated for a long
moment before finally speaking clearly, fixing her eyes on Mia, "if Mistress needs her to."
"What?" Mia paled at the word, a vision of Kreacher in the future calling her
"Mistress" as though he had no control over it when the word left his lips. She stared down
at the house-elf who had fixed her meals, sewn her clothes, and brushed her hair for the
past six years.
"Does Mistress want Tilly to go to St Mungo's?"
A strange new magic pricked inside of her, and Mia tried desperately to fight it.
"Tilly, I'm not your―"
"Mia, you have to," Lily pleaded with her.
Clenching her eyes shut tightly, Mia shook her head. It was one thing to allow a
house-elf to take care of her, especially since Tilly was so stubborn and manipulative, but
to have one bonded to her, passed down to her, from mother to daughter, simply because
that was the way things worked... it was horrifying. She had spent so much effort defining
a part of her character and integrity by the fact that she would never willingly enslave
another creature.
However, the look in Tilly's eyes was not just grief. It was fear. Tilly was afraid of
being cast out or given away to another family, possibly given back to the Black family,
Walburga even, and Mia could not allow that.
"Yes, Tilly." She reluctantly nodded, swallowing back the bile in her throat.
"Mistress insists that you please go and take care of my father." She frowned when Tilly let
out a loud sigh of relief.
"Tilly does as Mistress wishes." Tilly bowed her head respectfully to Mia and then
vanished with a soft pop.
"It's going to be okay, Mia," Lily whispered.
"No, it's not." Mia shook her head, feeling dirty and disgusted with herself. "I own a
house-elf now. The world is fucking upside-down." She reached for the silver tray and
picked up Sirius's cup of tea purposely, draining it and letting the warm firewhisky in it sear
the wounds she felt she had created.
"It'll eventually right itself."