Waxed Jackets

Everything you recognise is J.K. Rowling's.

Thanks to my betas il_grifone and teamfireyleader – all remaining mistakes are my own, as are the inconsistencies in Hagrid's speech: I find him very difficult to write.

As she made her way to breakfast the next morning, Hermione glanced out of the window and saw that Hagrid's paths through the snow were unblurred and the area in front of the main doors looked freshly swept. She peered upwards at the sky and decided that the sky, although grey, was not looking unduly sinister; she hoped that the morning would be free of further snowfall so that she could persuade Hagrid to take her to the house-elf cemetery.

When she entered the Great Hall, she saw that Hagrid was sitting at one end of the High Table, working his way through a huge basin of porridge. She moved to one of the free places next to him, said, 'Good Morning!' and received a slightly muffled reply as she reached for the nearest toast-rack.

After a couple of minutes, the smell of damp moleskins rising from Hagrid's coat suggested to her why he had been sitting alone. She hardened her stomach muscles and kept eating, deciding that perhaps she would just have one slice of toast and marmalade.

When she saw that Hagrid had put down his spoon and was reaching for his mug, she asked, 'Will you have time to take me to the cemetery this morning? Is the path clear enough? I don't want to put you to any extra digging.'

Hagrid turned to her and smiled; Hermione tried not to look at the oddments of porridge clinging to his beard. 'I dug out the path ter the cemetery yesterday and it's clear enough this mornin'. We could go right after breakfuss. Yer'll be needin' proper boots - Professor Sprout's got sum spares at the door ter the greenhouses. Yer'll find sum yer size.'

'I'll get my cloak and gloves, then, and meet you at the door to the greenhouses in twenty minutes. Thank you, Hagrid.' She hoped that the smell of his coat wouldn't be quite so powerful in the open air.

Back in her room, Hermione wondered how she should set about making notes while wearing gloves. After a little thought, she Transfigured a small picture-frame from the mantelpiece into a clipboard and tucked a few cut-up sheets of parchment under the clip, before putting it and her new Dictoquill into her bag. She unhooked her cloak from the back of the door and swung it around her shoulders before fastening it with the caduceus badge that marked her as an Unspeakable, then tucked her Muggle gloves into the cloak's deep side-seam pocket and set off downstairs.

Hagrid joined Hermione at the east door of the castle after she had been waiting for a couple of minutes. Next to the door was an open cloakroom, with low wooden benches where students could sit to pull on their boots; along the walls were rows of elaborate brass hooks that were cluttered with cloaks, hats, umbrellas and, at one end, adult-sized Muggle waxed jackets. The wire lockers under the benches were stuffed with gloves, scarves and muddy boots. Hagrid directed Hermione to a selection of rather ancient and stiff pairs of boots housed under the waxed jacket section. She sat down to try a pair, then stood up and stamped several times to settle them.

'These are fine. Shall we go?'

They emerged from the atmosphere of elderly waxed jackets and damp leather into a clean chill. The air was completely still, though bitingly cold. The path was clear and dry, with vertical walls of snow to either side which were so straight and even that Hermione realised Hagrid had probably employed his pink umbrella. The flapping edges of Hagrid's coat brushed little wisps and flurries of crystalline snow in his wake as he led Hermione away from the greenhouses, up a low slope beyond which she could just see the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The top of the slope turned out to be one of those misleading convex summits that receded as they climbed, so that Hermione was thoroughly out of breath by the time they reached the top, where there was a plain wooden gate in a snow-capped cypress hedge. She stopped to pant.

'Ere.' Hagrid proffered a hip-flask the size of a hot water bottle.

'No thanks, Hagrid. Too close to breakfast.'

Hagrid shook his head and took a mighty gulp before recapping the flask and stowing it in the recesses of his coat. He pushed open the gate and ushered Hermione through, before turning himself sideways to better squeeze through the house-elf width gap. He gave a surprised sort of snort.

'I din't clear in here – they must've done it theirselves.'

Hermione looked about her. The cemetery was quite different from a human one. The paths were of smooth, loose cobbles, the tops of which had been meticulously swept so that they looked as if they were floating in the remaining snow. Between the paths were thick plantings of snow-covered evergreens surrounding small, bowl-shaped clearings that contained clusters of pyramidal blocks which were completely clear of snow.

'Do you think they mind us looking around?' she asked Hagrid.

'I dunno,' he replied thoughtfully. 'They're very private about their homes and maybe they'd be the same about graves. They don't mind me workin' in here.'

Hermione approached the nearest clearing without stepping off the path and peered at the stones. They were engraved only in elf-script, which negated the value of her Dictoquill – she could not dictate a language that she could not read. Instead, she drew off her gloves and tucked them into her bag, took out her clipboard and started to draw the inscription on the nearest block. She repeated this for the next block, but by the time she had finished, her fingers were becoming stiff and clumsy, and Hagrid had started to stamp his huge boots on the path to keep the circulation going in his toes. She put away the drawings and replaced her gloves.

'How big is the cemetery?' Hermione asked.

'It's a funny place,' Hagrid answered. 'Takes me a full day ter trim the outside of the hedge. First time, I started to do the inside and I worked all mornin' without gettin' ter the end of the first side. I couldn't even see the corner. It's as if it's bigger on the inside than the outside. I said ter old Solly – he was head gardener then – that I wasn't gettin' anywhere, and he said ter just trim a bit every time I came in. I'm not sure I've seen it all and I've been groundskeeper more'n fifty years.'

Hermione gazed along the central path, which did seem to disappear into infinity. She wasn't yet sure if she wanted to study the cemetery in detail, but its Tardis-like properties certainly raised a challenge – one she wouldn't attempt without asking permission of the cemetery's owners.

'Let's get back,' she said. 'My feet are freezing and I've got to meet Professor McGonagall at eleven. Thank you for bringing me, Hagrid.'

As Hermione went out of the gate, she noticed a house-elf standing in the snow just outside, clearly waiting for them to leave.

'Lo, Wilky,' said Hagrid. 'Just been showing Miss Granger the cemetery. We haven't touched nothing.' He turned to Hermione. 'Wilky's one of the gardeners – yeh want ter know how ter prune just about anythin', ask her. Works with Professor Sprout in the greenhouses when new plants come in, magical or reg'lar.' The elf grinned up at Hagrid, but sidled nervously around Hermione to enter the cemetery.

'Didn't know they were still scared of yer, Hermione.' Hagrid looked concerned.

'I think it was something I said to Dilly last night in the kitchen,' Hermione said as they set off back to the school. 'I asked about Winky. Did you know she'd been signed over to Professor Snape?'

'She used ter spend a lot of time with him, I know that,' he said. 'She'd wait fer him if he'd been – off the grounds, yer know? In my hut with me sometimes. It used ter annoy him I reckon – he talked ter her a bit like he talked ter Neville, to be honest. But she still followed him about. Thought it was because she didn't get on with the other elves.'

'Did she fight in the Battle?' Hermione asked, speeding up to bring herself level with the half-giant.

'I suppose so, seein' as she's dead. I can't remember seein' her fighting.'

'Is she dead, then? There isn't a date of death for her in the Elf Register. In fact, as far as the Register's concerned, she's still at Hogwarts.'

Hagrid stopped and turned towards Hermione. 'I jest assumed. I haven't seen her since the Battle. Hang on, though. She wasn't fightin' that day. She was helpin' the Healers. She was with that St Mungo's chap, Pye.'

Hermione pondered Winky's usefulness to the healing team. Most house-elves made admirable assistants, so long as one took their ruthless literal-mindedness into account, but in Winky this quality seemed to manifest itself as a kind of petulant stubbornness that would probably have driven the Healers crazy. It must have infuriated Professor Snape beyond reason. Still, she would have carried out direct orders: that was built into every house-elf Hermione had met except for Dobby, who had been something of a free spirit. Perhaps fetching and carrying under constant supervision had been Winky's métier. Hermione had an unpleasant feeling that Winky's association with Snape might have been good preparation for battlefield first aid.

'I wonder if Healer Pye knows where she is? Surely the Register would say if she'd moved to St. Mungo's?' Hermione wondered as they reached the cloakroom door.

A/N The two-snakes-and-wand caduceus is not a medical symbol (that is the single-snaked Rod of Asclepius) – the caduceus is the symbol of Hermes, messenger to the gods, and represents the wisdom to aid, assist and enlighten.