Chapter 108: The Drunk Elf

On Sunday morning, after breakfast, the three of us went to the Owlery to send a letter to Percy, asking, as Sirius had suggested, whether he had seen Mr. Crouch lately. We used Hedwig, because it had been so long since she'd had a job. When we had watched her fly out of sight through the Owlery window, we proceeded down to the kitchen to give Dobby his new socks.

The house-elves gave us a very cheery welcome, bowing and curtsying and bustling around making tea again. Dobby was ecstatic about his present.

"Harry Potter is too good to Dobby!" he squeaked, wiping large tears out of his enormous eyes.

"You saved my life with that gillyweed, Dobby, you really did," said Harry.

"No chance of more of those eclairs, is there?" I asked, looking around at the elves

"You've just had breakfast!" said Hermione irritably, but a great silver platter of eclairs was already zooming toward us, supported by four elves.

"We should get some stuff to send up to Snuffles," Harry muttered.

"Good idea," I agreed. "Give Pig something to do. You couldn't give us a bit of extra food, could you?"

The elves nodded happily, and set off to get some more food.

"Dobby, where's Winky?" said Hermione, who was looking around.

"Winky is over there by the fire, miss," said Dobby quietly, his ears drooping slightly.

"Oh dear," said Hermione. Winky was sitting on the same stool as last time, but she had allowed herself to become so filthy that she almost blended in with the smoked brick behind her. Her clothes were ragged and unwashed. She was clutching a bottle of butterbeer and swaying slightly on her stool, staring into the fire. As we watched her, she gave an enormous hiccup.

"Winky is getting through six bottles a day now," Dobby whispered.

"Well, it's not strong, that stuff," Harry said.

But Dobby shook his head. "'Tis strong for a house-elf, sir," he said.

Winky hiccuped again. The elves who had brought the eclairs gave her disapproving looks as they returned to work.

"Winky is pining, Harry Potter," Dobby whispered sadly. "Winky wants to go home. Winky still thinks Mr. Crouch is her master, sir, and nothing Dobby says will persuade her that Professor Dumbledore is her master now."

"Hey, Winky," said Harry, walking over to her, and bending down, "you don't know what Mr. Crouch might be up to, do you? Because he's stopped turning up to judge the Triwizard Tournament."

Winky's eyes flickered. She stared wide eyed at Harry. She swayed slightly again and then said, "M - Master is stopped - hic - coming?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "we haven't seen him since the first task. The Daily Prophet's saying he's ill."

Winky swayed some more, staring blurrily at Harry.

"Master - hic - ill?"

Her bottom lip began to tremble.

"But we're not sure if that's true," said Hermione quickly, waking her hands.

"Master is needing his - hic - Winky!" whimpered the elf. "Master cannot - hic - manage - hic - all by himself..."

"Other people manage to do their own housework, you know, Winky," Hermione said, hands on her hips.

'Hermione really does have some nice hips...focus Ron.' my mind battled.

"Winky - hic - is not only - hic - doing housework for Mr. Crouch!" Winky squeaked, swaying worse than ever and sloping butterbeer down her already heavily stained blouse. "Master is - hic - trusting Winky with - hic - the most important - hic - the most secret..."

"What?" said Harry.

But Winky shook her head very hard, spilling more butterbeer down herself.

"Winky keeps - hic - her master's secrets," she said mutinously, swaying very heavily now, frowning up at Harry with her eyes crossed. "You is - hic - nosing, you is."

"Winky must not talk like that to Harry Potter!" said Dobby angrily. "Harry Potter is brave and noble and Harry Potter is not nosy!"

"He is nosing - hic - into my master's - hic - private and secret - hic - Winky is a good house-elf - hic - Winky keeps her silence - hic - people trying to - hic - pry and poke - hic -"

Winky's eyelids drooped and suddenly, without warning, she slid off her stool into the hearth, snoring loudly. The empty bottle of butterbeer rolled away across the stone floor. Half a dozen house-elves came hurrying forward, looking disgusted. One of them picked up the bottle; the others covered Winky with a large checked tablecloth and tucked the ends in neatly, hiding her from view.

"We is sorry you had to see that, sirs and miss!" squeaked a nearby elf, shaking his head and looking very ashamed. "We is hoping you will not judge us all by Winky, sirs and miss!"

"She's unhappy!" exclaimed Hermione. "Why don't you try and cheer her up instead of covering her up?"

"Begging your pardon, miss," said the house-elf, bowing deeply again, "but house-elves has no right to be unhappy when there is work to be done and masters to be served."

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Hermione cried. "Listen to me, all of you! You've got just as much right as wizards to be unhappy! You've got the right to wages and holidays and proper clothes, you don't have to do everything you're told - look at Dobby!"

"Miss will please keep Dobby out of this," Dobby mumbled, looking scared. The cheery smiles had vanished from the faces of the house-elves around the kitchen. They were suddenly looking at Hermione as though she were mad and dangerous.

"We has your extra food!" squeaked an elf at Harry's elbow, and he shoved a large ham, a dozen cakes, and some fruit into Harry's arms. "Good-bye!"

The house-elves crowded around us and began shunting us out of the kitchen, many little hands pushing in the smalls of our backs, wanting us out immediately.

"Thank you for the socks, Harry Potter!" Dobby called.

"You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you, Hermione?" I said angrily as the kitchen door slammed shut behind us. "They won't want us visiting them now! We could've tried to get more stuff out of Winky about Crouch!"

"Oh as if you care about that!" scoffed Hermione. "You only like coming down here for the food!"

"While part or that is indeed true, the point of the matter is that Winky is in there and now we can't go anymore because of you, you big mouth!"

"Oh you're one to talk about someone having a big mouth!" snapped Hermione as we climbed up the stairs. "As much as you shovel into yours!'

"So I guess you have a plan on how we can reach her again? Seeing as you've disgusted the lot? And what about us eating? I bet Gryffindor will be getting ahit on our plates now because of you!" I said as Harry gave the password and we climbed into the portrait hole. We sat down at a table and began to pull our homework for Charms out.

"They need to understand, Ronald!"

"They do understand! It's you that isn't bloody listening!"

"I'm leaving you two to your shit and taking this to the owlery." said Harry, as he grew tired of us arguing and went off on his own.

"Oh great, now look what you did, Hermione. You ran Harry off." I said, opening up my Charms book.

Hermione gasped. "Oh no you will not blame Harry leaving on just me! You're being loud and snippy just like I am!x

"Only because you are doing that to me!"

"You started it!"

"You're continuing it!"

"You're so nauseatingly immature." said Hermione, as she pulled out some parchment.

"Immature? I only just turned 15! Sorry I can't be already 40 like you are!"

That was the wrong thing to say.

Hermione looked at me as if her head was about to explode.

"Hermione, look-"

"IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK OF ME?! SOME OLD LADY?!"

"That's not what I meant, really."

"ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY THAT I ACT LIKE SOME STUFFY OLD LADY WHO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO HAVE FUN?!" she tells, now drawing attention.

"Shit, come on Hermione!" I said, getting up and almost dragging her up the stairs close to the door of my dorm.

"Look, I said the wrong thing, and I'm sorry." I apologized. "I'm not trying to call you old. It's just sometimes you act as if you have to be so damn mature all the time. You're 15! It's good to be bright, but live a little. Be a 15 year old. Slack off sometimes, and not just during the summer. When you were at the Burrow, you looked like you were actually enjoying yourself. And here, sometimes you seem like you just have to do everything and be the best and just have to have everything your bloody way, when really you can still be the beat and not act like you have a broom stuck up your ass."

Hermione's eyes grew wide at the last part of my words.

"Perhaps that wasn't the right thing to say." I laughed.

"Perhaps not." chuckled Hermione. "And sorry. I know sometimes I can get...very involved...but I just want what's best for them."

"You really want what's best? How about hearing them out. If they are telling you they like it, then they like it."

"But they don't know any better, Ron."

"I think they know their lives better than you do, Mione. Some may like living like Dobby, but the majority don't. Hell, if I lived like Dobby used to with the Malfoys, I would want a different life after freedom too. Actually talk to them about it, okay?"

Hermione looked at me as if she wanted to tell me how my words were unfair. Instead, she nodded while turning her head towards the window.

"Sorry for calling you 40."

"Sorry for calling you immature."

"Sorry for arguing and making Harry run away."

"I'm sorry for that too."

"Truce?" I asked, sticking out my hand."

Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled. "Truce."