Shy, Spiritedly and Seductively

It was summer: a searing, sultry and squalid summer at Hogwarts' Castle. At least that was how most of the castle was, the kitchen most notably. A heat wave in the Scottish Highlands, it was unheard of. The heat was hard on all of them; there was a reason they were House-elves, not garden or even desert elves. It was most especially hard on Winky. Dobby assumed that it was all that butterbeer.

He glanced up from his work and took in his distraught friend. She had started looking somewhat better the last few weeks, getting used to not having the Crouches to worry over. Of course, that was before the heat wave. Now she looked as bad as he had ever seen her; smashed, soiled and scruffy. Still, her ears were just as pert as they had ever been, her nose even more alluringly red than usual (the butterbeer again).

Dobby let out a sigh born of lost possibilities and unrequited yearning. He had loved since they had met, years before, both serving at a fundraising dinner for St. Mungo's. She had been so young then, just barely allowed to serve outside the Crouch's house. Sprightly, skilled and salubrious, she had caught the eye of every male there. That she had spent her time talking to Dobby had made him the envy of them all. He had hopes of asking his Master for permission to woo her.

That had been before the fall of the Dark Lord. Any thoughts of a union between the houses of Malfoy and Crouch were squelched then, even among the servants. That was the story of his life. Every time it looked like he might have had a chance to pursue her, fate had stopped him, scrupulously, steadily and sadistically. When he had gained his freedom, his first thoughts were of seeking employ in the Crouch house, but he had not been able to settle for no pay, not even for Winky. His freedom was too precious.

When she had been given clothes, he had sought her out, hoping that she would embrace her freedom as he had. She had been entirely shocked, scandalized, and saddened by his opinions. Despite that, she had let him help her to find a new situation. He expected her to take some time to adjust to Hogwart's but he just didn't expect this. Nothing he did could console her. Each new development in the story of the Crouch family's downfall shot her lower.

Now that the Crouches could not sink any further, she had slowly, slightly but surely, begun to come back to herself, until the heat. The heat set her back to drinking and wailing, until she passed out round about three each afternoon. Then the other House-elves would invariably disguise her form, in case of unexpected visitors to the kitchen. They had taken to keeping a tablecloth in a drawer next to the stool she favored. Being that it was just after noon now, she would only be upright for another two hours or so.

Dobby made a snap decision. Putting his task aside, he stalked across the tile floor and scooped her up into his arms. She needed attending to, not a drape over her drunken form. Stopping only to throw the offending linen (showy, shoddy, shameful thing that it was!) into the fire, he popped them instantly to one of the antechambers deep in the dungeons. It was one of the places the older students snuck into for privacy, therefore it had a fairly comfortable couch, but that was not the attraction. Down here in the depths of the castle's dungeons, it was cool.

He laid her gently on the couch and popped to the kitchen and back, to get her some water and something to eat. She hardly noticed the change of venue, still mumbling about her lost Masters. As the silent, sobering, saving coolness of the room worked with the food and the lack of butterbeer, Winky's eyes unglazed. She blinked up at him and asked. "What is Winky doing here? What has Dobby done? Dobby is a bad House-elf, he is."

"Sh! No, Dobby is a good House-elf. Dobby is taking care of Winky. Winky is needing helping," he answered. Surprisingly, she accepted that answer, settling silent, suspicious and sharp-eyed back against the couch. She was undoubtedly aware of his feelings towards her. He had never hid them.

He scuttled around the room, sprucing, sanitizing and swabbing, just to sooth himself. He wanted to help Winky, clean her, make her right again, just like he made the room right again. That thought led to thoughts of bathing Winky, bathing with Winky, mating with. . . . Best not follow that any further, not with the piercing look she was giving him.

A quizzical look came across her face as she contemplated Dobby, then suddenly, surely and seriously, she spoke, "Dobby is a good House-elf. Dobby is Winky's family now." She was either, still very soused or finally coming to her senses. Dobby did not know which, but his optimistic heart voted for the latter. Returning to the couch and sitting down aside her, he dared to look into her eyes.

Her eyes were enticingly brown and opulently large. They were alternately framed by and framed her highly perky ears and her fascinatingly crimson nose. She was the most beautiful thing Dobby had ever seen. Maybe he did have a chance with her. Maybe fate was finally going to let him get his hearts desire. Maybe. She repeated herself, "Dobby is Winky's family now," and then, she leaned up to him and kissed him shyly, spiritedly and seductively.