Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter 3
Severus woke to the sound of clanging pots downstairs and was suddenly very glad there were heavy muffling charms on the wall between his home and the rest of the row.
He'd have liked to have a set of muffling charms on his ears.
He rubbed his eyes and croaked while testing to see how much of a voice he had left after last night. After a cough or two, intentionally muffled into his pillow, he tried again. Not much.
Loud enough to deal with an out-of-place elf, though.
Damn it, she wasn't supposed to come here for days. I told her I wanted her resting with the rest of the castle elves.
He looked over at the clock on the wall.
Five in the morning. I need to teach her some wizards actually like waking up at ten during the summer.
He dressed as quickly as he could – his usual trousers and a Muggle turtleneck, nothing that could break secrecy or display what was left of his Mark if he needed to leave the house today – and walked down the stairs as quietly as he could.
Less banging now, thank Merlin. He wondered what she'd gotten into this time. Probably breakfast, no doubt assuming I eat the same at home as at Hogwarts.
Spending a holiday at home meant just that – having a holiday, at home, in a Muggle area where just not using much magic for a while was acceptable and even respectful of wizarding law.
He sighed. She'd gotten into trouble time after time at Hogwarts in the past year, assuming he'd be like her previous master in so many ways, and he'd not been able to explain in anything but a growl. Being kind to an elf could have given him away, of all things.
He'd tried to tell her after the Battle, but he hadn't been sure she'd understood.
She had a way of not understanding, and he'd spent much of the year training himself not to be the least bit sarcastic around her since it always ended in self-punishment even when she was the only one in the castle he wasn't actually complaining about.
Now, it was clear she probably hadn't.
Muggle kitchens were decidedly not built for house elves.
Two legs barely clad in the open end of an old ratty pillowcase were sticking out of one of his lower cabinets, and from the sounds coming from within Severus was sure she was trying to find something.
Probably a style of frying pan I've never owned.
After a few moments, she seemed to finally give up. She crawled backwards and straightened up.
I really have got to look up what the legal implications of giving her a nicer pillowcase would be.
Before he'd taken the Head's Office, he'd never had much dealings with house elves, much less owned one.
She stood for a moment, keeping her back to where he stood, clearly uncertain.
Severus noticed the bowl of uncracked fresh eggs already out on the counter by the cooktop. Observe the noble house elf, so devoted to perfect food for her master that his own pans aren't good enough for him.
And that was when she started pulling at her ears in distress.
"Stop that," he rasped.
She jumped with a squeak and spun around to face him. "Bad Winky woke Master?"
He was dumbfounded. There was no way to answer that wouldn't start her punishing herself again – she'd know if he lied and be ashamed of 'making' him do so. "Winky..."
Tears started running down the sides of her stubby nose, and she was trembling, ordered to not punish herself but also thinking she deserved it.
Damn. "Winky, it's okay. The pots are fine. I don't have anything as nice as what you're used to using, that's all."
"Master deserves better," she lamented softly.
That, I may be able to work with. He knelt on the floor in front of her so he wouldn't have to strain his voice as much. "Yes, Winky, as Headmaster of Hogwarts I do deserve better. That doesn't mean I want it."
She blinked and sniffled.
"I grew up here, in this house, and believe me – it wasn't quite as nice back then. Mum was always much better at brewing potions than casting cleaning charms." He gave her a moment to digest that. "I've never lived like the Crouches did. Just this house and Hogwarts. You're the first house elf I've ever owned, Winky."
And the word was true, now. Legal possession of the headmaster's elf shifted from the school to the headmaster upon the end of his first year in that office. When Snape had been reconfirmed in that office, he had become Winky's real, not just nominal, owner.
He started coughing – he couldn't stop it, he'd talked for too long at a stretch as it was and that was without taking into account the gathering at the pub last night that had already strained almost-healed vocal cords.
There was a squeak, the sound of a cabinet being thrown open by magic, the sound of the faucet, and then...
Then there was Winky, tugging at his sleeve to let him know she was there and pressing a cup of water into his hand. "Here, sir."
"Good elf," he told her weakly once he'd finally managed to stop.
She looked at him with wide brown eyes.
I... I've never actually said that to her, have I? "Winky, you are a good elf. I'm used to being on my own, and I was doing my best to try to protect you last year. Now, things can be different."
"You was trying to protect Winky, sir?"
He nodded. "If you had remained free, you could have been killed. If you'd been a normal Hogwarts elf, the Carrows would have had access to you. The things Alecto could have done to an elf she knew had been free... And I kept you away from my secrets so that if my cover were blown, there would be a chance I would be the only one of the two of us tortured and killed." He was down to whispering now, but since he had her full attention that ought to be enough.
That was when she grabbed her ears and started sobbing even harder than she hard before.
Sweet Merlin, what did I say this time? He took a moment to strengthen the muffling charms on the room, just in case.
He still wanted a set on his ears.
"Master didn't want Winky," she finally wailed.
"No. Master didn't want Winky to die the way Medy did."
Now she was crying and trembling, but at least she was holding her ears instead of pulling them.
Medy had been Albus Dumbledore's house elf for as long as Severus could remember, and unless his mother's recollections had been wrong Medy had been serving Dumbledore for as long as he had been headmaster. Nominally she had been freed in his will, but there was a Ministry process required to free a Headmaster's personal elf because of the private and sensitive information involved.
Medy had been ordered to run if Albus were to die. Medy had been ordered to keep his secrets, no matter what.
Medy had taken two weeks to die after she was brought before the Dark Lord. The only words she said were, "Yous been a bad boy, Tom!"
A master's order is a house elf's highest law, and Medy's freedom had existed only on a scrap of parchment, nothing more.
And after Medy's death and knowing what Harry would have to face, I should have expected that my own demise could have been in Albus' plans.
He stayed silent there until Winky calmed. She seemed to finally look at him clearly as she wiped the last of her tears away with the corner of her pillowcase, squeaked, and fell backwards.
Severus chuckled grimly. Never dealt with a wizard who liked to be at eye-level with whoever he was speaking to, have you, Winky? "Winky, you kept Barty's secrets for years. And those were true secrets. I know I can trust you with mine, now that the danger is gone."
And that did her in again.
He stood and put the eggs back in the refrigerator while she was getting the happy tears out of her.
He squeezed his eyes shut to reduce the sudden glare of the little lightbulb as it made him more aware of his impending headache. Now I'm definitely going to need the entire day to recover. First the pub, now a distressed house elf. What next?
Just one more thing to do, and then he could try to take a nap until the middle of the day. "Winky, have you already made yourself a nest here?"
She nodded, blushing to her ears.
"Where? There are odd corners of the house that aren't safe for an elf to sleep in."
She opened one of the doors under the sink.
"That would be one of them, Winky. That pipe won't stop leaking. It never has."
"Winky doesn't mind, sir."
"I mind. You house elves prefer cabinets, even in the Hogwarts' kitchens?"
"Yes, sir."
I wonder... "Does the cabinet need to be near the kitchen?"
"It is traditional, sir."
"So it's easier for you to cook and clean without letting anyone notice you exist, you mean."
She nodded, looking a bit confused.
Right. Don't talk about making things easier for her or asking what she wants. Knowing how to deal with that's been trained out of most of them. "But something like that cubbyhole you've got in the Head's Office would also work?"
She brightened. "Yes, sir. Easily, sir!"
"Then I may know a good candidate. Meet me at the top of the steps."
She disappeared.
Ten minutes later, he was on his bedroom floor rummaging through the short but deep cabinet he had used as a bedside table for years.
Empty it out, make a few modifications... It may not even take magic. He sat with his eyes closed for a moment. Not doing magic would be good.
Winky was beginning to pull her ears again.
"Winky, find an empty box for me. Strong enough for glass vials."
A moment later it was on the floor beside him.
"Make sure the vials all stay securely upright, Winky. We can sort through them all later."
"But Master needs..." she practically whined, obviously in high distress that he was cleaning out his bedside stockpile.
"One, I have you now. I can ask for things halfway across the house without having to get up myself. Two, the Dark Lord is dead. I shan't need most of these ever again."
The first thing he pulled out was a pain potion he'd need in six hours, which he promptly put on the top of the cabinet.
The second was a local anesthetic for his throat, which he quickly took.
And then the great clearing out began. Once he got started, he didn't bother looking away from the shelves more than was needed to be sure Winky had taken the vials from him.
It was not long – thankfully, as his head was getting worse – before he was down to bare shelves.
Adjustable shelves, thank the Muggle carpenters, which could be removed in under a minute. Getting the last bits of hardware out took only a little longer.
"That a big enough space for you to fit a nest in, Winky?" His voice was still barely there, but it hurt less to talk.
"Yes, sir." Her voice was very subdued.
Severus turned sideways to look at her.
Winky was looking into the box of potions, obviously taking stock of what was there.
He left her there as he walked over to where he kept a bin of old clothes, torn sheets, towels, and washrags for future use as rags in his potions lab on the magically-created – and hidden - third floor. He picked through it, selecting the most intact of the sheets and towels, before carrying them over to Winky and dumping them on the floor beside her.
"Sir..."
"These were going to be ripped into rags, eventually. I have no other use for them. Take what you can use and leave the rest. If you find any old pillowcases in halfway reasonable condition, you have my explicit permission to set them aside for your later use."
"Thank you, sir."
She was still subdued.
"I normally sleep late during the summer and am particularly tired from moving back in and going to a pub last night to celebrate – you couldn't have known. I need to take that pain potion by noon. If I'm not awake again by thirty 'til, I expect you to wake me, and no matter what may I say at that time you are not to punish yourself for doing so."
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Now, I am going to see how many more hours of sleep I can get and you are going to settle in." He flipped the light switch. "Can you still see well enough, Winky?"
"Yes, sir."
Finally. He pulled his shoes back off and stretched out on top of the bedclothes with his back to Winky and her activities.
He thought he heard her whisper, "Have a good sleep, Master," as he drifted off.
