Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated with it in any way.

Note: Fair warning: I cried while writing this.

Challenge info below the story.

Quiet

As the sun dips lower over Shell Cottage, the sky is washed over in shades of rose and gold. The ocean laps gently at the cliffside and waves of velvet double over one another onto the beach below. A flock of seabirds—probably pelicans—casts a string of silhouettes against the sunset as the birds drift lazily past.

No one is home today; the cottage is quiet and still atop its lonely cliff. Even the sound of the turf seems reverent as it carresses the shoreline. The view from the back window of the house shows the garden, obstinate to the sea breeze, surrounded by a plain, white fence with a plain, white gate.

The gate opens, then closes, but the visitor can't be seen from the back window until she pads softly across the garden on bare feet. She wears a white skirt with blue trim and a navy shirt.

And she's a house-elf.

Winky carries a handful of weeds and wildflowers close to her chest, treading carefully between the tended rows of the garden. Her destination is the end of the garden, a simple rock between two bushes of thickly-grown leaves. She pauses there for several minutes—unblinking, unmoving—before arranging her scavenger's bouquet ceremoniously around the stone. She traces the words carved there with her fingers, tries to smile. Fails. She turns and walks away.

The gate opens, then closes.

A trail of sandy footprints leads from the garden to the beach. Winky sits on the shore with her knees to her chest and her chin on her knees. She watches the waves coming in and going out until the sun starts to sink behind the horizon. Her eyes wander to her left, and to her right as though she's expecting to see something other than sand all around her. She gets to her feet tiredly—laboriously—and turns her back on the sunset to stare pointedly at the beach.

With one, long finger, she reaches out and traces a curved line in the canvas of sand. She hesitates, then draws another. And another.

A lop-sided head with crooked, floppy ears atop a stick-body slowly takes shape. She laces her fingers together under her chin, looking dubiously at the rough drawing in the sand. She looks confused and pensive and very, very sad. She shakes her head, tugs habitually on one of her overlarge ears.

Gingerly, she reaches into a pocket in her neat skirt and removes something from it, wringing it furiously in her hands for a moment before holding it out in front of herself.

A tea cozy.

Her bottom lip trembles and great pools of moisture form in her eyes. She sucks in a sharp breath, hiccups once, and lets go of a ragged sigh. With shaking hands, she folds the tea cozy in half, and lays it on the sand, over the slightly lopsided head drawn there. She stares at the figure, a tortured expression on her face, before lying down on the beach next to it. She places her hand over the stick-hand nearest to her. For a long time, she doesn't move or say anything. She only watches the sky go from golden to starry black.

Tears leak down either side of her face, the sand beneath her indifferent as it absorbs each drop. Her fingers spread out over the stick-elf's hand, and her breaths come in shallow waves. Her voice quavers.

She tells the stick-elf that she misses him. She says it's quiet without him.

It's so quiet.

Note: This fic was inspired by the song "Lost in Paradise" by Evanescance, and written for a Round 1 Art Dueling Club Competition at HPFC by CUtopia.

I didn't want to spoil this piece with dialogue. I felt like it would disrupt the beauty of the moment, so I kept it all narrative.