A Note From Sun Queen: Hey, long-suffering readers, I hope you're still there. This story has been wallowing on my hard drive because I am bogged down with the worst case of writer's block I've ever had. I've been trying to recharge some creativity, and I've been working on another Legolas project with another pair of authors, which is shaping up very nicely. I just can't force this story right now, because if I do, it inevitably comes out stale, and I'll hate it. Don't give up on me, though, I WILL finish this story!
I'm leaving on vacation next week (yay!), and I'll be back in a couple of weeks, inspired to finish this. So we hope.
Chapter 12: The Fairy Queen
Hermione Granger's day had been confusing as hell.
She'd had an interrupted night's sleep; after Legolas' strange song had ended, she and her fellow Gryffindor fifth-years had fallen asleep on the floor, huddled together with tears drying in sticky tracks down their cheeks. They'd woken to find late morning sun streaming through their open window, their necks stiff and their backs sore. Hermione had been scrubbing her eyes furiously with a washcloth when Lavender and Parvarti had approached her. The three girls had held a hushed and hurried conference, before swearing, in the solemn manner of teenaged girls, on Elijah Wood's eyes and Orlando Bloom's cheekbones that they'd never reveal what they saw last night.
"Or how we cried like kids and I had to hold Lavender's hand until I fell asleep." Hermione thought sourly, one hand reaching under her bushy brown hair to massage her stiff neck. "Or how a song made me cry more than I did at Cedric's funeral..."
Enough. She'd missed breakfast, and her stomach was growling. Hermione turned and hurried down the stairs towards the kitchens. She'd been there several times before, and though the house-elves always watched her shiftily, (as though they were trying to guard even against the *thought* of freedom), she had no doubt they'd give her food if she asked nicely. A lovely bit of bacon on toast, a mug of pumpkin juice...
"Hell," she thought, "they'd give me food if I showed up wearing a bathrobe and a lampshade, barking orders!"
"Where *is* everyone this morning?" she finally wondered aloud. Even for Saturday, it was late for any student to be asleep, Quidditch games didn't begin for another few weeks, it wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend, and it was too early to be in the Great Hall for lunch. She'd expected to find Harry and Ron about, but the common room had been empty. She turned a corner, and almost smacked into Neville Longbottom.
"Oh! Hello, Neville..." she greeted her fellow Gryffindor, taking in his mussed hair, and the yawn he vainly sought to cover behind his hand. "What in the world have you been up to?"
"I fell asleep in the Astronomy Tower last night. I was helping Professor Sinistra track a comet...it was really amazing, but I got so tired..." he yawned again. "You should have seen it, Hermione, it was so cool!" Neville's eyes took on the sparkling look that he got when a subject really grabbed him. Although, it was usually Herbology. Hermione had had no idea he was so interested in astronomy.
"A comet..." Hermione trailed off with a smile. "Once, the ancients thought that comets foretold the deaths of princes."
"You think?" Neville's round face looked thoughtful. "No...it was beautiful, like a streak of frozen fire. It was sort of red, and brighter than all the stars. It crept across the sky, then it disappeared over the western horizon, kind of like a sailing ship on the ocean."
Then Neville looked sheepish, as if he'd told too much. Blushing, he stammered, "I think I'll walk over to greenhouses now. Do you want to come?"
"No thanks," she grinned at him, making him blush brighter. "I'm going to get a bite to eat. Tell me more about your comet sometime, will you?"
Nodding hard, his cheeks a colour to make any beetroot proud, Neville took off down the hall. Hermione shook her head in amusement, and continued towards the kitchen, not knowing that she was about to have an encounter that would drive all thoughts of Neville and his comet straight out of her mind...
************
Hermione had almost reached the kitchen's hidden entrance when she heard the singing.
Actually, to call it singing was a bit of a stretch. It sounded more like someone crying, hiccuping, and slurring all at once. Hermione tentatively poked her head around the corner and stopped, dead in her tracks.
There was a small knot of first-year Slytherin boys, whose normal macho scowls had been replaced by absolute confusion. They whispered among themselves helplessly, totally at loss in dealing with this present situation.
By their feet, curled up against the wall, was a half-naked young woman. She was rocking back and forth, cradling a bottle in her lap. While humming and sobbing, her voice was occasionally interrupted by a loud hiccup.
Hermione felt her jaw drop. The woman was nude, save for a white bed sheet that draped and clung, barely preserving her modesty. Long, glamourous legs poked out from under the makeshift toga, and wavy golden hair tumbled over her back and her curvaceous breasts. Her skin was luminous, her features flawless, but her dark eyes were lined crimson from crying. She grinned strangely at Hermione, took another swig out of the bottle in her lap, snarled at the ogling little Slytherins, and burst into fresh sobs.
Vaguely, the Gryffindor girl wondered if she was still asleep and dreaming. Even at Hogwarts, this was far outside the norm. Gorgeous women didn't just lie around in hallways, totally plastered, surrounded by gawking first-years. It just wasn't normal.
"Uh...hello. I'm Hermione...who are you?" The young Gryffindor scratched her neck helplessly. What on earth was she supposed to say? The strange woman ignored her completely, swatting instead at a little blond Slytherin boy who came too close. With a squeak, he leapt back, joining his nervous friends a few feet down the hall.
"Go get one of the Professors! Quickly!" Hermione barked, her best this-is-an-order voice. For once, the young Slytherins didn't even think to argue with a Gryffindor, and a Muggle-born, at that. They scurried off down the hall without being told twice.
Hermione bent and scooped up one of the three empty bottles that already lay scattered on the floor, then cautiously sniffed it. "Magyana's Vineyards, '32", the label proclaimed. She recognized this as a wizard wine, very strong and *very* expensive, part of the faculty's private stock. The woman met her shocked gaze and sniffled as Hermione voiced the first thought that came to mind.
"You drank *three* of these?"
"Uh-huuuuhhh..." Though slurred, it was the woman's first recognizable word, and Hermione could hear the musical undertones of her voice, unsteady as it was. The stranger scrubbed pathetically at her damp cheeks with the edge of her sheet, looking lost and utterly forlorn.
She almost seemed fey, sitting there, a patch of sunlight making her blond hair glisten and setting her smooth skin aglow. Like the Queen of the Fairies, clad in the rags of a white ball gown, waiting for the moon to rise so she could dance again. Hermione's somewhat romantic illusion was shattered when the woman moaned, hiccuped again, and buried her face in her hands.
"Are you alright?" asked Hermione, mentally kicking herself for asking such a *stupid* question. Did the poor woman *look* alright?
To her surprise, however, the woman met her gaze with teary brown eyes.
"You-" she stabbed a finger in Hermione's direction, "-are nosing, miss!" She yanked the bedsheet tighter around her breasts, then stared at her hands as though she'd never seen them before. "You are nosing..."
The accent was wrong, and the inflection was far sweeter, but suddenly everything clicked into place in Hermione's lightspeed brain. The drinking, the hastily wrapped toga. And 'nosing'?
"Oh my god." whispered Hermione, her hand to her mouth. "Winky!"
**********
The world around me lost focus; all that mattered was the forlorn elf who stood before me, looking as though he wanted to flee. His green eyes darted from me, to Harry, and back the door.
From behind me, I vaguely heard Harry ask, "Dobby?", disbelief and shock warring in his voice. Keeping both palms open in a gesture of peace, I locked eyes with the stranger and let my voice slip into the familiar patterns of Elven speech.
*We are far from home, my friend.*
*Yes...* he answered, looking utterly perplexed. *I do not understand.*
*Nor do I.* I raised a hand and gently touched his cheek, a strand of chestnut hair, the curve and point of his ear. *Trust me.* I whispered.
A little bit of doubt faded from the strange elf's eyes, but fear and uncertainty still battled there. I smiled at him, and clasped his arm in a warrior's grip. Cautiously, he returned it.
Behind me, I heard Ron whispering to Professor Snape. "Sir..." he trailed off, "that's one of the house-elves, sir!"
I heard a thud, rather like a head dropping hard to a tabletop. "And Professor Trelawney said this was going to be a *good* week..." Snape said dryly.
The professor was interrupted by the breathless arrival of a young girl with curly brown hair. Relying on time-honed instinct, I darted to the side where I might pass unnoticed. The strange elf (a house-elf?), followed suit.
"Harry, Ron," gasped the girl, trying to catch her breath, "you won't believe what I found!"
"What is it, Miss Granger?" asked Snape, very smoothly drawing attention away from us to the centre of the room. Bless him.
"It's one of the house-elves, sir...Winky." The girl paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "I don't know...she's not human, but she's not a house-elf anymore!"
Snape grimaced. "Not again." The girl started, but let the comment pass. "Where is she?"
The girl had begun to look rather upset. "I...lost her."
Snape nearly twitched. "You WHAT?"
"I lost Winky!" the girl snapped. "She had three bottles of wine in her, how was I supposed to know she'd be able to run that fast? She waited 'till my back was turned, then she took off!" The girl slumped. "I have no idea where she went."
I did.
This had not been a very good day for Professor Snape; he looked like he might throttle the next person who so much as approached him. With supreme effort, however, he reined his temper. "Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, Miss Granger. You will follow me, NOW!" With that, the Professor swept towards the door.
"Where are we going, sir?" asked Harry, nearly running to keep up, followed by the other two young humans. He threw a very confused glance in my direction, but I just bowed very slightly. Good luck, Harry Potter. I hope you can handle the truth.
"We are going to see the Headmaster in the Hospital Wing, Potter. Stop asking questions." As he turned to close the door, Snape turned to where we stood in the shadows. "Stay here." he ordered. The door clanged shut.
I heard the ringing footfalls disappear up the corridor. Then, there was silence.
The strange elf turned to me, an almost-smile tugging at his mouth. "Are we going to stay here?"
I smiled as I stood and stretched. "Of course not."
To be continued...one Elf alone is powerful. Two Elves can kick a Balrog's ass. Three Elves together are unstoppable...we hope... Tune in next week for the exciting adventures of A Mirkwood Elf in Dumbledore's Court!