[summary] — Winky&Dobby [SupportGroup!AU] The large door stood ajar, which was just as well because Winky wasn't quite tall enough to reach the handle. She could have used magic, she supposed, but when she was as upset as she was it had a tendency to … misbehave.

A/N — Once again, thank you to Raven and Beks for looking this over :)

[1600]

The large door stood ajar, which was just as well because Winky wasn't quite tall enough to reach the handle. She could have used magic, she supposed, but when she was as upset as she was, it had a tendency to … misbehave.

There was a small gathering of elves inside — maybe ten or twelve, all forming an arc around one house-elf who was standing atop a wooden table, pacing its length and speaking words that had no business being said aloud.

"It is time," she arrived in time to hear him say, "we is is taking control of our lives!" There was a loud cheer from one of the gathered elves, though the rest remained silent. She thought they might be just as reluctant to be here as she herself was, but there was nowhere else to go. No one else would willingly take in a disgraced house-elf. "We is not needing master or mistress! We is our own masters! We is our own mistresses!" He waited a beat — possibly hoping for a slightly better reaction than the loud applause from the one house-elf — before taking a bow so deep his nose almost brushed against the tabletop and hopping to the floor.

He went straight to the only elf who had verbally supported him, removing the bottle from the creature's hand and leading him to a seat. Winky looked away quickly, before he could see her watching them, and turned her attention to the other elves in the room. They were mostly male, she noticed with slight dismay, but there was one other female elf that Winky headed straight for.

"Hello," the elf said, smiling thinly at Winky. None of the elves looked particularly happy — well, apart from the ring-leader and the elf with the bottle — so she thought nothing of it. The elf bowed. "Teeny," she said. "at your service."

Winky wasn't used to being greeted in such a way — every time she'd come into contact with another elf outside of the family, she hadn't been permitted to speak — and so she followed Teeny's example and responded in kind: "Winky," she said, her bow not quite as deep or elegant, "at yours."

The elf stifled a high-pitched giggle into a wrinkled and worn hand. Winky suspected hard work rather than simply age was down to her appearance. "Winky mustn't pay too much attention to Dobby," she said, sobering slightly. "Dobby talks big." She lowered her voice to a whisper, and said: "Dobby chose to leave his masters, they say." Winky didn't ask who was saying such things; looking around the room, seeing the elves all gathered into various small groups and whispering in dark corners, Winky suspected she had a very good idea.

Winky took a deep breath, steeling herself, and said: "Are you … free?" She hated the way the word felt on her tongue; hated the way it reverberated in her head — free, free, free — the repetition feeling more like a prison than her servitude ever had.

Teeny nodded, a slightly wistful smile twisting up the corners of her large mouth. "Teeny's master was very old, you see," she said. "And Teeny's master did not wake up."

Winky wondered about Teeny's master's children, and said as much to the other elf.

"They not wanting elf, Winky," Teeny said. "They more civilised." Winky cringed. She'd heard talk of the elves abandoned by their masters' or mistresses' children; set free in the name of equal rights, only to find themselves without work, shelter, or food. Of once-proud elves who could boast a linage with the same family going back tens of generations suddenly finding themselves on the outskirts of society. It was barbaric. "And what of Winky," the elf asked, "if you is not minding me asking."

"Winky's master is not dead," she said slowly. "Young master is gone," she added, "but master is very much alive." Winky paused, wondering if she should continue, but the other elf had shared. "Master — Master freed W-winky," she hiccoughed, sniffing loudly. "Winky was a good elf."

Teeny gripped her arm tightly, waiting until Winky made eye contact with her before speaking. "Winky seems like a good elf," she said. "Winky is dedicated and loyal, and Winky did not deserve to be freed." Winky nods vigorously.

"Winky was very loyal," she confirmed. "Winky would never be doing anything to get herself freed."

Teeny nodded, wrapping a thin arm around Winky's shoulders. "We all loyal," she said. "Even Torpy," she added, gesturing to the elf Winky had noticed before; he was out of the seat Dobby had tried to help him into, hanging off the other elf and waving his arms about in a way that was far from anything a well-behaved house-elf would be doing in company. "Torpy just … Torpy didn't take to freedom," Teeny said sadly, watching the elf sadly as he stumbled. "Torpy didn't have friends like Teeny." She turned to Winky then, giving her a somewhat reassuring smile, which Winky hesitantly returned.

Winky had never had friends before.

...oOo...

Teeny had told Winky they met on the second Thursday of every month, and Winky hadn't wanted to be late. She wasn't the only one, it turned out, as she pushed open the heavy door on the Wednesday evening. She recognised Torpy instantly, though she was hesitant to speak with him, so she made her way to the corner furthest from him.

There was another elf already there, hidden in the shadows, but by the time she saw him it was too late to pretend she'd been heading somewhere else. And Winky knew better than to turn and walk away once he'd seen where she was headed; Winky was not rude.

"Hello," he said. He looked very young, she thought.

"I is Winky," she said, pulling at her pillowcase and descending into something that could loosely be described as a curtsey.

"Norby," he said, not standing. He signalled to the man behind the bar — a middle-aged human who seemed far too used to house-elves giving him orders — who approached quickly, a bottle and two dirty glasses in hand. He set them on the table in front of Norby, who wordlessly handed the man a few coins.

Once the man left, Norby tipped the bottle, pouring the liquid into the first half-pint glass and sliding it across the table to her. Winky picked up the glass, giving it a hesitant sniff. It smelt sweet, and a little … soapy? She turned her confused frown to Norby.

"It's butterbeer," he said, pouring some into his own glass. "Drink up." He downed his own glass quickly; Winky did the same, wondering at his amused smirk. "The first time Winky's tried this?" he asked. She nodded; her cheeks felt a little flushed, though whether that was from embarrassment or the warmth the drink had caused to spread through her body, she couldn't tell. He laughed again. "Winky should slow down."

Winky grinned, a dazed smile that felt strange on her face, but she was too content to be overly bothered. "Winky would like another." He laughed again, but waved the bartender over.

When Winky had her second drink, Norby said: "Winky should be careful." Winky frowned. "Torby was like Winky," he clarified. Winky glanced over at the other elf as she took a sip of her drink; he was slumped over his table, his glass tipped over beside him and spilling what little of his drink that remained.

"Winky is not like Torby," she said indignantly. "Winky is of the House of — Winky is dignified," she quickly amended. She took another sip of her drink, mouth downturned. Already, her head was beginning to feel a little fuzzy, dulling the pain she'd been feeling since she'd been freed.

.oOo.

The other elves gradually filled in, and she recognised a lot of faces from last week arriving hours before they were scheduled to meet. Norby had told her there wasn't much else for them to do; that the old families wouldn't accept a disgraced elf — though she had known this already — and that the newer names wanted to do things for themselves. Even the younger generations of the old families had the same attitude.

Winky accepted the bottle of butterbeer from the bartender, leaving Norby to pay again. He frowned, but handed the coins over nonetheless. She took a deep swig.

"Winky!" Teeny called, waving from across the room. Winky stumbled over. Her head was pleasantly buzzing, distracting her from the thoughts that had plagued her for over a month now. "Winky, meet Beeny," she said proudly, though there was a slight sadness to her face. Winky supposed they all looked a little downtrodden now, though. "Beeny is Teeny's sister," she continued, standing tall. "Beeny is —" she stuttered, lowering her voice "— Beeny was working for Misters and Mistress Crabbe."

Winky bowed deeply; she would have fallen had Teeny not grabbed her in her surprisingly strong arms. "Wi-nky," she hiccoughed, "is a free elf," she said loudly, raising her bottle and taking a deep swig. She had caught Dobby's attention.

"Winky?" he asked, walking over. "Is Winky new?"

"Winky was here last month," she said, chin raised high and a stubborn set to her mouth; she wasn't fully aware of the words she was saying, but everything around her felt muted, distant, and so she couldn't bring herself to care. "Because Winky is homeless and jobless and free."

A/N — Written for houses with the theme escape (in which alcohol was used as the escape) and the prompt house-elves. I would also like to clarify that Winky is not an alcoholic in this story; this is her first time getting drunk, and that does not mean she has a problem. The other elves are just warning her (or worried about) what could happen.