the_debt_of_time

"I'm glad." Hermione smiled, happy to hear that Tilly appeared to be well cared for.
Her happiness was short-lived as she realised that she needed to set immediate boundaries
with the elf. "Tilly. I insist that you don't clean up after me. I can do my own cleaning, and
I am good at cooking as well."
Suddenly, Tilly stopped in her tracks and turned very slowly, wide eyes watering
with fat tears, a sad little frown crossing her face. "Young Miss doesn't want Tilly?"
Hermione frowned, shocked at the sight of Tilly's expression. She was much more
used to Kreacher's insults or Dobby's short attention span. "No, no, Tilly, I just don't want
you to have to take care of me."
"Young Miss wants Tilly to be sad? Oh, poor Tilly!" She burst into tears, releasing
Hermione's hands and covering her face as she sobbed, bracing herself against the nearest
wall like a heartbroken woman in one of those old romance movies that Hermione's
mother used to watch. "Tilly wished and wished and she wished so long for a Young Miss,
and Young Miss doesn't want Tilly. All Tilly ever wanted was to care for a Young Miss."
"Tilly, please don't cry!" Hermione said, horrified by the scene she had caused.
"Please, please. I don't want to make you sad. I'm sorry! Please, please stop crying." When
Tilly's knees buckled and she collapsed into a crying heap on the floor, Hermione
surrendered. "Okay, okay. You can take care of me, just please stop crying."
"Tilly accepts," the elf said, immediately halting her sobs and standing up, dusting
her hands off on her little tea towel and looking no worse for wear. She reached again for
Hermione's hand and tugged her toward a large room at the end of the hallway. "Tilly's
new Young Miss learns fast, yes she does."
Hermione moved forward, gobsmacked. Had she just been emotionally
manipulated by a house-elf?!
Tilly opened the double doors at the end of the hallway, pointing out the personal
bathroom as they walked into the suite.
Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of the large room with a massive four-poster
bed in the centre, draped with beautiful blue and gold curtains. A large antique wardrobe
stood at the end of the room; its open door revealed not clothing, but a generous stack of
various folded fabrics.
Tilly approached the wardrobe with a smile on her face, pointing to the linens
excitedly. "Tilly is going to make Young Miss new robes and dresses. Young Miss needs