Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Finals Round One
Team: Montrose Magpies
Position: Chaser 3
Challenge: Write a story that features Winky the house elf.
Prompts: Feast, Game, Candlelight
Words: 1, 328
Winky's first taste of the heady substance was when she was merely a young elf, in the days when Master Barty was still a child, Mistress still lived, and many other elves populated the mansion.
Master had expressly forbidden Winky to drink any before he left, he had forbidden all the elves, and that meant Winky too.
He had gathered them all in the kitchen one evening, and he had said to them, "I will be away on business for the next two weeks. It is very important business. You must take care of the house in my absence, do you understand?" His sharp glare swept over them, as they bowed their heads, murmuring their understanding. "And even though you should not need the reminder, I am telling you now; stay away from the drinks cabinet! If any of you should touch a single drop, you know what that will mean ..." All the elves shivered at his next words.
"Clothes."
And so, the next morning the Master was gone and Winky had every intention of obeying the Master, of course she did, Winky was a good elf, she always listened to her orders.
"Winky!"
At the sound of the young master's call, Winky was instantly at his side.
"The young master is summoning Winky?" She squeaked eagerly.
"Winky, I'm bored." Barty Crouch jr.'s eyes shone with mischievous glee, not a look that usually boded well for Winky, much as she adored the boy. "Let's play a game."
"I is not sure I is being allowed to play games, Young Master," Winky wrung her hands apologetically. "I is being busy cleaning."
Barty pulled a face. "Cleaning! What fun is cleaning? Come on, I want a little bit of excitement around here. Follow me."
Bound by a master's orders, Winky followed reluctantly.
"Come on, Winky! Hurry up!"
Winky dutifully hurried, pushing aside sudden nerves. This was the Young Master. Such a nice young boy, such a good child. What harm could come from his little game?
But when he led her straight to the forbidden drinks cabinet, she began to pull on her ears in panic. "Young Master, I is not being allowed near here, Winky is not being allowed!"
He ignored the fearful tone, and bent to inspect the lock. "Should be simple enough," he remarked loftily, but his pale cheeks flushed with his own daring.
"Father says I'm not old enough for firewhiskey?" He snorted, angry. "As if he even knows how old I am, the bastard."
"Young Master!" Winky cried, horrified, but was ignored.
"Open the lock, Winky."
"But .. but Winky is getting in trouble if I does that! The Master has expressly forbidden Winky!" She said fearfully. "It would be meaning ... clothes."
"But I'm your master as well, right? And father's not here right now, so what I say goes. And I want you to unlock the cabinet! Please, Winky?" His tone changed to a sweet, pleading tone, his eyes widening.
Winky's resolve weakened in the face of the Young Master's logic.
"But I is .." She made one last weak attempt, conflicted between her sense of duty towards her Master, and her affection for the Young Master.
"Winky?"
"All right, Winky is unlocking the cabinet for the Young Master," she sighed, and clicked her fingers.
"Great!" Barty grinned, and grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet. "Cheers, Winky. In fact-"
Barty grabbed a small dusty-glass bottle of golden liquid, and passed it to Winky.
"Here you go. Think of it as a .. reward." He flashed his wicked grin, then ran off, prize clutched firmly.
Winky gazed down at the forbidden gift she held. She should put it back, yes she definitely should. But –
A sweet, high keening seemed to emanate from the bottle, a whispering song.
Drink me...
She should really put it back, but ...
She punished herself severely afterwards, of course – she ironed her fingers – but nothing could rid her memory of the hazy taste of summertime with which the thick liquid had coated her tongue.
A sip, a drip, a tiny little taste. He'll never even know it's gone.
The bottles sung their sweet melody and Winky couldn't seem to block it from her ears.
The thought of disobeying her Master was terrible, unthinkable – but she had already done it once, and the weakness was always right there beneath the surface.
The bottles glinted, the drink glowed amber in the candlelight.
Just one sip, she promised herself. Just one ...
Clink-clink went the bottles, hidden under Winky's bed. No one would ever find them; no one could ever find them, otherwise then they would know that Winky had been a bad elf, and Winky couldn't let anyone know...
No one ever missed a mouthful, a swallow here and there, a centimetre skimmed off the top of the bottle.
No one ever had to find out Winky's secret.
"Winky... Winky..." The voice seemed far away. Was she underwater? Everything was a bit fuzzy around the edges. Was she swaying? What was this nausea? Was the room spinning?
"Winky! What are you doing with that bottle, elf?"
Uh-oh, the voice sounded angry, the voice sounded like her Master and when her Master was angry, that was bad because that meant Winky had been a bad elf, and she didn't mean to be, oh no, there was just something about those bottles ...
Winky's thoughts were a twisting-turning ramble, why was her head pounding this way? She was tired, so very sleepy ...
"There will be conseque..." the voice faded with the room and all was hazy-dark.
"Hic."
"Hic."
"Hic."
"Winky?" The voice was squeaky. That meant it was not Master's. Where was Winky's master?
"Master? Master?" Winky swivelled her head wildly, but that only made her skull pound and her stomach churn, and anyway, the world was too blurry for her to see.
"Winky must stop drinking the butterbeer!" The voice squeaked. It sounded worried.
"You is not Winky's Master," The voice was slurred, strange to her ears, yet she knew it was hers. Why did she sound like that? "Winky is not stopping unless the Master is being the one telling me to."
"But Winky is a free elf now! Winky does not have a Master!" The voice was excited now, but it's words slammed into Winky's gut like a hammer.
"NO! WINKY IS HAVING A MASTER! WINKY'S MASTER IS MR CROUCH AND HE IS BEING A GOOD MASTER TO WINKY! YOU IS LYING!"
And with that, she tipped back the bottle 'til not even the last dregs remained, and the round green eyes disappeared with the blackness.
Where was Winky's Master? Winky could not leave her Master. Her Master needed her. He had even said so himself.
"Winky, I need you ..."
" ... to stay away from the butterbeer."
But that last part wasn't important, Winky knew her Master needed her, and she would have stayed away from the drink, if only it didn't sing to her oh so sweetly...
The room was dark, and the bed was soft. It was quiet.
Winky was all alone.
Alone.
Winky was here in this room, in this castle, with a new master while her real master needed her.
She shot straight up, ignoring the now familiar aching in her skull and the blurriness of the room.
How could she abandon her Master this way? Not when he needed Winky's help with the Young Master, not when he trusted Winky to keep his deepest and darkest secrets!
The room began to come into focus, even as Winky wished it away.
What she needed right now was ...
The faintest melody trickled into her ears.
She turned.
Behind her stood a single dusty-glass bottle of liquid that danced golden.
A delicious feast, all contained in that tiny vessel.
She picked it up.
To forgetting, she toasted herself silently, and downed it in one gulp, already reaching for the next bottle.
*LETS OUT MASSIVE SIGH OF RELIEF/EXHAUSTION*
Finally got this done ... the deadline's in a couple of hours ... I need sleep...
Well, I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews make my day, and favourites are awesome :)
Happy New Year!