Chapter 77:
DOBBY

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.•°★ AND then they hit solid earth and smelled salty air. Cassiopeia grunted as she felt sand on her feet. She squinted around through the darkness. There seemed to be a cottage a short way away under the wide starry sky, and she thought she saw movement outside it.

"Are you alright?" said Harry's voice. They seemed to have separated during the appration, he was a far from them, and so were Ron and Hermione.

Cassiopeia slowly stood up, and she smiled gratefully. "Dobby...I could never thank you enough," she whispered. "Dobby? Dobby?"

She looked around. The little elf stood feet from him. "DOBBY!"

The elf swayed slightly, stars reflected in his wide, shining eyes. Together, he and Cassiopeia looked down at the silver hilt of the knife protruding from the elf's heaving chest.

"Oh no," she whispered, and she ran towards the elf. Cassiopeia felt tears already burning her eyes. "No, no, no, no, no..." she whispered, her voice growing louder. "NO! HELP! HARRY!"" She yelled, Cassiopeia heard footsteps.

"Dobby?" Harry whispered.

Cassiopeia shook her head, "Have you got anything? Anything at all?!" She said to Harry, not caring about what had happened, all she cared about was that a dark stain was spreading across Dobby's front, and that he had stretched out his own arms to Cassiopeia with a look of supplication.

Cassiopeia caught him and laid him on her lap, and she held him. "Dobby, no, don't die, don't die "

"Hermione!" shouted Harry, "have you got anything? The ditany? Hermione, in your bag!"

Cassiopeia shook her head and she felt tears fall down onto Dobby, "No, Dobby. Please. No. You're...You'll stay. You'll stay for me. Please stay, don't..."

Cassiopeia placed her hands on his chest, and she felt her entire body tremble. Harry placed his hand on her shoulder carefully.

"Dobby! Dobby, please. Please," she sobbed, Cassiopeia's hands were now crimson and her fingers were shaking as she removed the blade and placed pressure on the wound. "Dobby..."

Her hands were red, the dagger had pierced through the sweater that she had made him. The sweater that she had given him for Christmas, as a thank you for spending time with her during her most lonely days.

The elf's eyes found her, and his lips trembled with the effort to speak. "Dobby is glad...to have...Cassiopeia Malfoy...the best friend that Dobby could ask for..." said Dobby, his voice quite hoarse.

Cassiopeia shook her head, loud sobs escaping her lips. "No, Dobby. Don't say that. Don't say that, just please...you'll be okay..." she sobbed, as her mind started to go blank. His sweater was turning deep red.

"Such a beautiful place to be with...friends," whispered Dobby. "With Dobby's friends..."

And with a little shudder the elf became quite still, and his eyes were nothing more than great glossy orbs, sprinkled with light from the stars they could not see. Cassiopeia shook her head and she sobbed. "No..." she whispered.

Cassiopeia held Dobby's hand, feeling his life slipping away. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I should have protected you. I should have—"

The weight of her grief threatened to crush her, the reality of his death more than she could bear.

Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She could feel his own tears mingling with hers, his silent grief a mirror of her own.

Cassiopeia shook her head, but the pain didn't lessen. Dobby had been more than just a friend; he had been her friend, her confidant, her light during those darkess hours. The memory of his unwavering loyalty, his boundless kindness, and his infectious joy filled her with a deep, aching sorrow.

She glanced down at the sweater she had made for him, now stained with blood. It was a symbol of her affection, a small token of the gratitude she felt for his friendship. Seeing it now, soaked in his blood, tore at her heart.

"I'm so sorry, Dobby," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The wind howled around them, the waves crashing against the shore as if mourning Dobby's passing. Cassiopeia closed her eyes as took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

Luna had came, and she closed Dobby's eyes. She smiled sadly at Cassiopeia, and slowly, Luna took the elf from her grip.

"No!" She said, Luna stopped. Cassiopeia, slowly, handed her friend to Luna's hands and she sobbed harder. Harry's hands on her shoulders moved her, and she turned to him. Without hesitation, Cassiopeia buried herself on his chest, crying. Her hands red from blood.

"I want to bury him properly," said Harry, softly. "Without...without magic." Cassiopeia nodded as she wiped her tears with her sleeves, she looked at Harry for a moment after she raised her head from his chest and she looked away, standing up.

Cassiopeia and Harry began digging Dobby's grave. The weight of their grief and the urgency of their task kept them focused. Their hands moved mechanically, shoveling sand away to create a final resting place for their friend.

The others stood nearby, their faces somber. Bill Weasley handed Cassiopeia a sharp object to carve the headstone, and she accepted it with a silent nod. As she worked, Harry and Ron continued digging, the sound of shovels hitting the sand the only noise in the otherwise quiet evening.

When the grave was finally deep enough, Cassiopeia and Harry carefully lifted Dobby's small, lifeless body and laid him gently into the hole. Cassiopeia's heart ached as she looked down at him, wrapped in the sweater she had made, now stained with blood. She swallowed hard, pushing down the lump in her throat as she picked up the sharp object Bill had given her.

She knelt by a flat stone they had found, her hands trembling as she began to carve. Each stroke of the makeshift chisel felt like a tear in her soul, but she pressed on, determined to honor Dobby's memory.

Harry watched her silently, his own grief reflected in his eyes. He reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, offering silent support. C

The words formed slowly, each letter etched with care and love:

HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF

Cassiopeia sat back on her heels, her eyes filled with tears as she read the words. She reached out a hand to trace them, her fingers brushing over the rough stone.

Together, they began to fill in the grave, each shovelful of sand a painful reminder of their loss. The others joined in, their silence a testament to the gravity of the moment. The only sounds were the soft rustling of sand and the distant roar of the ocean.

When the grave was finally filled, Cassiopeia placed the headstone at the head, a final tribute to the friend who had given so much. She knelt beside it, her fingers lingering on the words she had carved. Harry knelt beside her, his eyes fixed on the headstone.

A few hours have passed, and the quiet light of dawn had already filled the sky. Cassiopeia sat near Dobby's grave, staring at the ocean, not daring to step foot inside the Cottage. She was ashamed, and guilty. She shouldn't even be here.

"It's cold," said a voice, Cassiopeia's head turned to see Harry walking towards her. He had gone into the cottage earlier, hoping Cassiopeia would get in too. "You should get inside."

Cassiopeia remained silent, and she swallowed hard, her eyes looking into the sea. "I'm fine," she whispered.

Harry sat down next to her, and he followed her gaze before he looked at Cassiopeia. She looked even worse than the last time he had seen her.

"Cassiopeia..." whispered Harry.

"I'm fine," she repeated, avoiding his gaze. "I shouldn't even be here in the first place."

Harry frowned, "Why not?" He asked, his green eyes staring at her.

"Ron was right, I'm a traitor," she whispered. "You shouldn't trust me so easily, Harry."

"I know that it was you during the wedding," said Harry, his voice calm as he followed her gaze to stare at the sea. "And that night during my escape from Privet Drive."

Cassiopeia remained silent, because it was true. She sighed, shaking her head as she looked at the side. "That doesn't change the fact that I'm not a good person, Harry." She whispered.

This was the first time they've had a conversation in over a year now, and in all honesty, she missed him so much. She felt the familiar sting in her throat.

"Cassiopeia---" Harry spoke, but she cut him off.

"I'm not staying here," she said, turning her head to glance at him now. "I'm a danger. He could track me with this."

Cassiopeia yanked her left sleeve away, revealing the dark mark. She had tried to remove it with all her magic before, but it still moved and darkened on her arm. "This is a mark of a death eater, Harry," she said. "I'm one of them. I didn't want to be, but I had to. I had to."

"And you should have told me," he said, softly. "You should have told me when you got it."

"And you would react kindly?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing as she gazed at Harry now. "I'm a monster, Harry. A monster."

With those words, she stood up, her eyes pricking with tears. The cold wind swept up her long blond hair. "I have done terrible things." She whispered.

Harry gazed at her, not knowing what to say as he too, stood up.

"I'm not a good person," she whispered. "I've killed, Harry. Because if I didn't, you would've died. I wanted to protect you, Dumbledore himself told me."

Cassiopeia felt tears fall down her face, and she wiped it away harsly. She turned her head, her eyes gazing at the ground.

"I want to help you, Cassiopeia," whispered Harry. "I care about you, I promised didn't I? That I'd forgive you."

Cassiopeia shook her head as her eyes slowly made their way to meet his again. "What I've done is not to be easily forgiven," she whispered.

"You saved us earlier," said Harry. "Calling Dobby, helping us..."

He took a step forward and Cassiopeia shook her head, she looked at him. "Harry, I've done terrible things. Terrible. I've hurt people...I hurt you!"

"I promised," said Harry, as he reached out to wipe Cassiopeia's tears away with his thumb. "I promised, Cassiopeia."

"It's not the same," she whispered, as she pushed his hand away gently. "Harry..."

"You protected me," said Harry. "You did. You just...you..."

Cassiopeia watched as he struggled to justify her actions, and she shook her head. Her eyes landed on Dobby's grave, and she swallowed hard. "He was my only friend," she whispered. Harry followed her gaze and his eyes softened. "During those darkest times,  when I had nobody...when I was eleven and then now. I can't believe Dobby's gone."

Cassiopeia trailed away as she watched Dobby's grave, as if hoping that Dobby would apparate in front of her. She looked at Harry. "This is what happens, Harry. In this war. You lose people you love." She whispered.

"I know," he answered, as he slowly took a step towards Cassiopeia. She took a step back as he moved. " You've done what you had to do to survive. To protect your family. That doesn't make you a bad person."

"You don't understand," she whispered. "I killed children, Harry. In a fit of rage and desperation. I didn't want to, but I did it. How can you justify that?"

Harry's face softened with compassion. "Cassiopeia, I know you're struggling. But I also know you wouldn't have done those things if you had any other choice. You-Know-Who forced your hand."

She shook her head vehemently, her tears spilling over. "No, I had a choice. I could have refused. I could have fought back."

"And gotten yourself killed," Harry countered, his voice steady. "You were in an impossible situation, Cassiopeia. I don't blame you for what you did."

Cassiopeia walked away, her legs feeling weak. "I can't stay here, Harry. I can't face you, knowing what I've done."

Harry grabbed her hand, stopping her. "Don't walk away," he pleaded. "Don't shut me out, not again. You need to forgive yourself, Cassiopeia."

She tried to pull away, her emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. "I don't deserve forgiveness," she said, her voice breaking.

Without warning, Harry pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her tightly. Cassiopeia struggled at first, her instinct to push him away and retreat into her guilt and shame. She even landed a weak punch on his shoulder, trying to free herself.

But Harry held on, his grip unyielding yet gentle. "It's okay," he murmured. "I'm here."

"Don't---Let---Me---Go," she grunted as she tried to push him away. "Harry, let me go." She sobbed.

Harry embraced her, and her fists slowly relaxed as Harry held her. "How could you forgive someone like me..." she cried.

Slowly, Cassiopeia's resistance melted away. The walls she had built around herself crumbled, and she found herself clinging to Harry, her sobs breaking free. She buried her face in his chest, the weight of her grief and regret pouring out in a torrent of tears.

Harry held her, his hand soothingly rubbing her hair. He didn't say anything more, just let her cry, offering his silent support. He had missed her more than anything.

Harry knew that Cassiopeia was forced. Her family after all, it's always been like that. The pressure, the influence. Though deep down, he felt hurt and betrayed...but the way that Luna spoke about Cassiopeia inside the Cottage, the way she betrayed her family to save him. It was a fresh start at least.

Though her lies, and how she had hurt him will always remain, he still loved her. The warmth of his embrace was a balm to her shattered soul, a reminder that she wasn't alone.

When her sobs finally subsided, Cassiopeia pulled back slightly, looking up at Harry with red-rimmed eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I promised," he said, as his hands went to her cheek. He stroked it with his thumb. "Didn't I?"