The Trouble with House Elves
Hermione had been enfolded in a particularly nice dream where she had been wandering timelessly through the largest library she had ever seen when she felt tiny, knobby hands tugging on her wrist. Crookshanks was growling in his sleep near her right ear and the room had grown somewhat cold over the night. She squirmed deeper into the blankets, thinking that the tugging had just been part of her dream.
Then something hissed near her other ear. "Miss Granger! Wake up!"
"What?" Her head snapped upward and Crookshanks jumped with a startled squeak of surprise. Her face careened back to the pillow as soon as she realized who the trespasser was.
"Wake up!" Beatrice pleaded, tugging more firmly this time. Hermione felt as though the elf might tug her arm out of its socket.
"What do you want, Beatrice?" Hermione asked, opening one brown, groggy eye to glare at the annoyance. The elf's ugly face was blurred by slowly exiting slumber. Hermione groaned and rubbed her weary eyes. "What time is it?"
"Four a.m." Another groan was quickly interrupted. "Beatrice must know if Mudblood made any progress with Mr. Snape last night."
"What do you mean, progress?"
"In finding him a mate."
"Beatrice…" She was this close to breaking the thing's nose. This close. "It is four o'clock in the bloody morning. I am in no condition to answer your stupid questions. Can't you talk to me at a normal hour, when people are normally awake?"
Beatrice shook her head, her ears flapping loudly. Crookshanks, annoyed, had lumbered over to the other side of the bed and curled into an orange ball, his ears pressed back against his head.
"No. Four is a good hour. Mr. Snape is asleep."
Hermione couldn't help but lift an eyebrow. "Asleep?" She had never thought about Snape sleeping before. She had never even seen him unconscious (willingly, that was. He had been under the club of the troll before, falling into a rather sleep-like state, but she was quite sure that he hadn't chosen unconciousness in that instant). He never seemed like someone who would sleep…he always had something to do, someone to intimidate, and didn't seem like the kind of person that would take the time to blink, nonetheless close his eyes for an extended amount of time. It was a ridiculous notion, she knew, but it was true. To think that he was in bed right now, in such a vulnerable state, seemed…intriguing, to say the least.
"Yes…" Beatrice answered, sounding uneasy. She squeaked out, "Miss Granger doesn't want to see Mr. Snape sleeping, does she?"
"Oh…no," Hermione lied, rouge flooding into her cheeks. "I was just wondering why he'd have to be asleep for us to talk."
"Mr. Snape has very keen ears," Beatrice answered in a very reverent whisper. "He can hear almost everything."
"Oh, right," Hermione said, turning around so her back was to the elf and rolling her eyes. "I've heard as much."
"Well…" Beatrice prompted, appearing with a pop on Hermione's bedspread, crowding into a very irritated cat's spot. The bed shook as she made herself comfortable. "Was there any progress?"
"Oh yes," Hermione said, closing her eyes. "Lots. Actually, he even proposed to the dishwasher. They're wedding will be held the Saturday before the school year begins and they'll honeymoon in his dungeons. You'll probably have your hands full with all the children they're planning to have. There'll be at least…oh, I think thirteen."
Beatrice stomped her foot on the bed, causing it to shake. "Miss Granger is being sarcastic with Beatrice."
"No, never." She let out an irritated sigh. "Look, elf, I sincerely doubt that Snape will die if he doesn't find love. And there's really nothing I can do. He doesn't want to change."
"He doesn't have to change," Beatrice replied. She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. To confirm this tone, Hermione opened her eyes and saw that Beatrice's were overfilling with tears. An overlarge teardrop fell down from the house elf's cheek and plopped on to Hermione's pillow. "Beatrice loves him just the way he is."
Hermione couldn't help but pull a face. "Well, get him to marry you, then. Would you please leave me alone so I can sleep?"
The elf remained silent as Hermione buried her head back into the pillow, pulling the bedspread up to her shoulders and swallowing, trying to concentrate on bleak, black, wonderful space. But Beatrice was still there, pushing down the mattress and breathing through her mouth. Hermione hated it when people, or anything, for that matter, breathed through their mouths. The fact that it was Beatrice doing it made it even more irritating. Why on earth would Professor Snape employ a mouth-breather?
"Perhaps Beatrice will, then." With a loud crack, the elf disappeared, leaving a hollow in the bedspread where she had been standing.
Crookshanks looked at Hermione questioningly.
"Oh, sod off," she said, ruffling the amused feline's fur. "You know she won't do anything."
Crookshanks blinked slowly, unconvinced. A low rumble was rolling through his belly.
"Well, anything incredibly stupid."
With a secretive smile typical of cats and Kneazles alike, he settled his head by his paws and purred contentedly, watching with one yellow eye as his owner uneasily fell asleep.
"Thank you, Beatrice," Severus Snape said, blowing on his cup of tea and watching the swirls of steam drift away from him. It smelled wonderful and not tampered with, just the way he liked it, and it even had his favorite spoonful of honey. Beatrice usually didn't give him honey unless she was very, very happy with him, usually stating that so much sugar wasn't good for the Master's health, though, personally, he was rather tired of having such a bony bum. Either way, the tea was much better than usual, and since he didn't think that he had done anything to warrant the said honey, he immediately became very suspicious.
"Would the master desire anything else?" the elf asked, her hands collapsed in front of her and her eyes pried apart in an expression she must have thought to be endearing. "Crumpets? Biscuits? More tea?"
"One cup full is more than enough," Snape answered, pulling the Daily Prophet into his lap and quickly flipping through to the crossword. "Though…crumpets do sound appealing. I wouldn't mind a few."
"Right away, sir."
Well, he thought as she disappeared. I hope she's finally serving Hermione something edible…it's no good tutoring a starving student with her head in her stomach.
Beatrice quickly returned and pushed a plate of steaming crumpets topped with melted butter and black currant jam – his favorite - on to the nightstand. His mouth watered at the smell drifted up to his nostrils, and he quickly placed his crossword aside.
"Again, thank you, Beatrice. And I expect that Miss Granger is receiving similar treatment?"
"Yes, yes," Beatrice said, nodding deeply. "Of course. Is there anything else that Mr. Snape desires?"
"No, that will be all for the morning. You are dismissed."
He picked up a crumpet and bit into it, quickly falling into a world of black currants and six-letter slang words for female hippogriffs that ended in "r". It took him quite a while to notice that, contrary to his expectations, Beatrice hadn't disappeared but had instead crawled into bed next to him.
"Beatrice…"
She snuggled up to his side, laying a soiled hand on his chest (fortunately, he was wearing his customary gray nightshirt) and had wrapped her knobby ankles around his lower thigh.
"Good Merlin!" Snape shouted, rolling out of bed to find, to his horror, that that hadn't succeeded in dislodging the house elf from his side. "Get off of me, you twat!"
Sulkily obeying, the elf let go and slid down his leg, landing with a thunk on the ground. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she buried her nose between her legs and sniffled loudly, leaving Severus to stare at her with a surprised expression on his face, swiping his hair behind his ear.
"What has gotten in to you, elf?" he said, grimacing. "Are you mentally ill, or have you hit yourself in the head too many times with the golf club I found in your cubby? Honestly, out of all your stupid behavior-"
"Mr. Snape," Beatrice interrupted so quietly that he could barely hear her above his ranting. "Beatrice has a request."
"Well then," he growled. "If I answer it, will you get the hell out of my bloody room?"
She nodded, blowing her nose noisily on her toga. Her eyes were overflowing with tears.
"Out with it then!"
"Mr. Snape," she began hesitantly, staring down at her knees. "Would Mr. Snape…Mr. Snape snog Beatrice?"
Snape's dark eyes suddenly doubled in size and he stumbled away from the elf toward the silver-colored wall, backing into it and leaning against it for support. Green curtains grazed the top of his head, but he didn't notice.
"What?"
"Snog," Beatrice sniffed. "Rolphy said it was eating each other or something. He said there were lips and tongues and things…and that it meant that the people snogging loved each other. He said it didn't really hurt, but Beatrice doesn't think that Rolphy would really know, because Beatrice is quite certain that Rolphy has never been snogged in his life…" She took a deep breath and looked up at Snape with her large, watery eyes. "Would Mr. Snape snog Beatrice?"
Severus tried to fight off the feeling that he was going to be suddenly, violently ill. The ugly thing was looking at him in a way that would be heartbreaking if his heart could break, but honestly, why couldn't anything that wanted to snog him have an acceptable amount of hair, and, perhaps, eyes that were, in fact, a normal size?
"To be honest, Beatrice," he said, feeling himself give in to her hurt feelings, mentally berating himself for having gone so soft. "I don't know how to snog. Never snogged in my life. You don't want to be snogged by me. Now, please leave."
"But you must snog someone before your birthday!" she shouted as Snape picked her up by the neck and started to walk toward the door, dangling her in front of him like she was a rotten bit of rubbish.
"We're not supposed to speak of this. Especially now that Miss Granger is here."
"Who cares about that wench?" she whined, twirling around in Snape's grasp, trying to come loose.
"I do, and I'd really prefer it if she didn't know about the curse. Now, kindly, get out." The door creaked open and Snape stood there, holding her at least a foot above the ground.
The elf pried at Snape's hands, trying to get them to release her neck. "It's too late," she wheezed. "Miss Granger already knows."
There was a loud crack and Snape's hand closed around thin air. His arm hurt from squeezing so hard, and a glimpse in the mirror over the head of his bed told him that his usually pale face was red with fury. His mouth drawn, he snapped his fingers and said clearly, into the air, "Rolphy."
An older house elf with gray hairs poking out of his ears suddenly appeared at Snape's doorway, looking flustered and ashamed as if he had just witnessed the entire event. "Yes, Mr. Snape?" he said shyly, crossing his ankles and clasping his hands behind his back. "Rolphy," Snape addressed him, folding his arms across his nightshirt and staring down at him, boring holes into him with his eyes. "Bring Miss Granger to my room. Immediately."
"Yes, sir," the house elf muttered, turning around to go.
"Oh, and one more thing." Rolphy turned around, obviously curious. A hint of a smile played on his lips as Snape added, "And make sure that Beatrice is kept at least thirty yards away from me at all times until she is able to control herself."
Thanks to: artemisgirl (yes...he is a git. And yet, I still love him), Lana Manckir, oO-Innocent Dreamer-Oo, Fou Fou (well, I think it could get rather interesting now), Kris Leigh, Katrina Stardust (yes...I suppose this would be AU, wouldn't it? I somewhat disregarded the flashback in book five...oh well), Snapegirl51606, CassandraTheEvil, pickles87 (I hurried! For me, anyway), Akasha Ravensong, Satern Mya, Kim, hp-lover-fifi (I believe that it is very, very old tradition that it is improper to eat with your left hand (especially in public) because that is the hand that one would use to...erm...wipe with. It's not used anymore since there is now toilet paper, but Snape's family is very old fashioned and supersticious, and saw him being left-handed as a sign of bad luck. I hope that clears anything up, and if I'm incredibly, outlandishly wrong, be free to tell me), Aindel S. Druida, Audrey, Cassandra, Zephyre, MoJoBe, and Anna K.
Next chapter is progressing. Summer is wonderful, I actually have time to write!