Chapter 28

"What does it say?" Hermione asked, pouring them both a fortifying cup of tea. She made Sirius' the way he liked it, and he took the cup with an absentminded smile.

Draco had taken his time getting back to Sirius about a visit. Though it was possible he'd been out of town, Sirius was taking it rather personally and almost got rid of the missive before reading it. Hermione had stayed his quick wand, however, and now she wondered if she'd done the right thing.

"It sounds as though he'd willing to meet," Sirius said, a little grudgingly. "But it so filled with doublespeak that I could be totally wrong." He handed her the letter, and she perused it quickly.

He was right; the language was not that of a man entirely willing to mend fences, but it was possible that that was just the way Draco Malfoy was these days. He seemed to be something of a recluse, and from what she'd heard from Blaise...who spoke in a doublespeak all his own...it seemed that Draco wasn't the same person she'd known in her school days, and thank Merlin for that, for she doubted Sirius would want to meet with him more than once if Draco was the little brat she'd known.

"It's a little presumptuous of him," she admitted, "to invite you over today, with so little warning, after putting you off all week."

Sirius grunted in agreement, eyes narrowed on the letter once more, as if he could literally read between the lines and decipher what Draco really meant.

Sipping her tea, Hermione contemplated her own owl. Jimothy Frankenhodge had been increasingly insistent about his interview, but for some reason, Hermione couldn't feel comfortable giving it to him.

Perhaps it was from years of being lambasted by the media, or perhaps it was just a desire for her own privacy, but she was hesitant to let reveal the entire story to the public. She felt as though she'd only just begun her life, and now, already, people were bargaining for bits and pieces of it. Perhaps it was irrational, and she had made a deal, but she wanted to have just a little more time to herself before the entire truth got out.

She was afraid, of course, that she would be arrested for her use of Dark Magic inside the Ministry itself. Dark wizards and witches were fewer after the defeat of Voldemort, but those that were caught faced the full extent of the law. Despite her past and her connections, she knew she would be no exception. The Ministry might even make an example of her. It wasn't as though she'd done anything with herself since the end of the war, except bring Sirius back.

A few more days, she told herself, sending Frankenhodge's strongly worded letter to her desk. A few more days of peace and sanity, a few more days for Sirius to reach out to his family and put his life back together.

Then she would worried about hers falling apart.

Getting up, she went to the larder to see what had to be purchased for groceries. She liked to go on Saturdays when it was a little easier to blend into the crowd.

"Did you want anything from the grocery store, Sirius?" she asked absently, making up her list.

"No, love. Do you want company?"

She smiled, making sure to write down a few of his favourite snacks. He knew she preferred to go on her own, especially as the one time she'd had him tag along ended up with them spending twice as much as she normally did and with paper bags full of food she'd never have purchased on her own. The man was impossible to control when it came to impulse items.

"No, thanks." List finished, she bent over to give him a quick kiss, only giving a token protest when he hauled her into his lap.

"Mmm," he whispered against her lips. "Think I can just have you for breakfast?"

Hermione sighed softly. She was about to make a smart remark when her stomach growled, answering for her.

She blushed, but Sirius only laughed and pushed her back to her feet.

"Can't seduce a starving woman," he declared with an air as though that fact was truly regrettable.

"I'll be back in under an hour," she said. Sirius seemed to take that as a promise of further affections, for he leered at her.

But he couldn't hold the look and smiled instead. "I'll have a little breakfast waiting for when you get back. There's some eggs left, and bread, as well."

'Thanks, Sirius," she said gratefully. He was a great cook, especially lately, and she was glad that that was one responsibility neither of them objected to him taking on.

Another kiss saw her out the door. It was strange, she thought as she walked down the street to the Apparition point, how much nicer it was to go grocery shopping when you weren't only thinking of yourself. It was still a chore, nothing could offset that, but knowing that Sirius preferred his pumpkin juice pulp-free or that buying a Chocolate Frog at the counter would ensure gratitude wholly unequal to the effort of the purchase, made shopping a tad more enjoyable.

Hermione suddenly groaned, realising she'd left her pocketbook. She turned on her heel and started back, grateful that she'd remembered before getting too far.

She opened up the front door and went down to the kitchen, the reason for her return on her lips.

Sirius looked at her with wide eyes, and Hermione slowed, confused.

His eyes flickered over to the sink beside her, and her gaze automatically followed.

She shrieked in surprise at the little body diligently whisking eggs.

"Kreacher?" she gasped, swinging her gaze back to Sirius. "What is he doing here, Sirius?"

Sirius stood slowly, not quite meeting her eyes. "He belongs to the house, love. I couldn't just..."

"Just what? Do you even know what he...and how could you... I just...Kreacher, here, take this!" Hermione pulled off her light scarf and tried to hand it to the house-elf, who had been watching the interaction from the corner of his enormous eye. When he saw what she was trying to do, he made an awful hissing noise and disappeared.

Hermione and Sirius stared at one another.

"You know what he did, don't you? The secrets he told about the Order? And how he made Harry think... Merlin, Sirius, he played a huge role in your death!"

"Harry told me all that. I know. But there's no one left for him to betray us to, is there? Unless Draco cares how I like my tea or how stiff I prefer my collars!"

Hermione goggled. She couldn't imagine even allowing that foul thing to touch her food... but then, he surely had, hadn't he?"

"He could be poisoning us...you. Every day! Oh, my gods..."

Sirius shook his head. "He can't. I ordered him not to." A small smile played on his lips, but Hermione only shook her head. Loyalty could not be ordered.

"And even so! You know how I feel about slavery!" She wasn't sure she knew what upset her more, but she did know that Kreacher would not be making food for her any longer. He could go back to Hogwarts. Or really, he could die, for all she cared. She might not agree with house-elf enslavement, but that just meant that she knew there was no excuse for his betrayal, and she hated him just as she would hate anyone who had contributed to the death of her friend...and for five years, that's what she'd believed.

"It was just a little help in the kitchen, love. Not something to get so upset over," Sirius said glibly.

"You're kidding me, right? Wow. You have no idea," Hermione said, amazed that he could be so nonchalant.

"I have an idea, Hermione! I just don't really care. He's a little shit, yeah. But he's bound, and he belongs to this house and my family, and honestly, Hogwarts was a vacation for him!"

"I'm not comfortable having him here, Sirius. I mean, you must understand that. Not only because of what he did, but because I don't believe in binding slaves to wizards." She tried to keep her voice calm, but she was more affected than she was even letting on. Sirius had lied to her, had done something he'd known she would hate... for why else would he have hidden it from her?

"Honestly, you're making a huge deal out of nothing. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but he's just a house-elf. He wants to serve, and I want him to. Everyone wins." Sirius crossed his arms over his chest as though that signified the end, and his victory, of the discussion.

Ha.

"Everyone except me! I hate that he's here! I hate what he did, and I hate what he represents! And I really hate that you lied to me. How could you do that? You let me praise your cooking and thank you for being so thoughtful by taking care of this place! I feel so stupid..."

"No, I don't want you to feel stupid, 'Mione. Really. I didn't tell you because I knew you'd be upset, but I'm shite at taking care of a house. And I really can't cook. I thought that if you... if you knew that, you wouldn't want..."

"Oh, Sirius," Hermione said, wanting to take his hand, but not wanting to back down just yet. "I don't care if you can cook or clean. Those are the sorts of things people learn as they go."

"You act like I'm some twenty year old bachelor straight out of his parents' house! I'm twice your age and can't do half the fucking household or cooking charms and spells you can! It's embarrassing."

"So, rather than feel embarrassed, you decided to let a vicious little traitor into my home and lie to me about it?"

Sirius looked as though there were a great many things he'd like to say, but what he finally settled upon was said in a low, stiff voice. "This is still my house, Hermione. You might live here, but it's mine, and I'll do as I please."

Hermione nodded slowly. "So you've shown. Continually."

Immediately, Sirius' face changed, shifting from cool and aloof to apologetic and sincere. The change was so sudden that Hermione blinked to keep up.

"I didn't mean that how it sounded. I mean, yes, it's my house, but it's also your home. And I'm grateful for the care you took of it while I was... gone."

She was quiet for what felt like a long time. This conversation wasn't going anything like she felt it should. They'd fought before...they'd had some pretty impressive arguments from anything from pure-blood politics to Order policies to proper usage of the word "whom," but most of the time, they agreed on something and were able to create common ground from that mutual understanding.

And now, they both agreed that Kreacher was a traitor, but that was it. And while, to Hermione, that meant that he didn't deserve to work in this house, and especially not for Sirius, to Sirius, it meant that serving him was like penance for the house-elf.

She also knew from past discussions that Sirius did not agree with her regarding house-elf rights. He might have been a Gryffindor, and a black sheep in his family, but he had been raised a pure-blood, and he believed that elves wanted bondage. And while ludicrous to her, she knew that belief was common, and she hadn't commented on it beyond a few choice words here and there, equally matched by his own annoyingly thoughtful arguments. But it had never come between them before.

"I was happy to maintain Grimmauld Place, Sirius, and not just as a favour to Harry, but for you, as well. I know you hated it here, but it always reminded me of you. And to see Kreacher here feels so wrong."

"Can we just drop it? Neither of us is going to change our minds."

Hermione huffed. She hated it when he avoided things like this. They both knew if the subject were abandoned now, it wouldn't be brought back up.

"Fine, but I don't want him cooking my food or cleaning up after me or touching my laundry or anything. I mean that. I don't care about the extra work. I won't contribute to slavery, and I won't reward him for betraying you."

Sirius nodded solemnly. "I'll let him know. So, did you forget something?"

Hermione glared at him. He really was unbelievable sometimes. One minute he was fighting tooth and nail, and the next he was perfectly agreeable. She found it much more trying to switch her own emotions on and off...something that was evidenced by her snatching her pocketbook off the counter and storming out of the house without another word.

The door slamming spoke well enough for her.

Sirius supposed he was going to have to learn how to cook.

He truly hadn't expected such an ardent reaction from Hermione, though he probably should have. She was passionate about a great many things; not the least of which being Sirius, himself, but he would admit that he hadn't quite expected her to raise such holy hell over the simple matter of a house-elf.

And Harry had told him all about Kreacher's disloyalty, but Sirius was certain he'd taken care of that with a few well-detailed threats and some explicit instructions. The elf wasn't permitted to leave the house except to go back to Hogwarts.

But despite all that, the most important thing was that Hermione was happy. But Merlin, did she know how to get him riled up, or what? When they were in the midst of the fight, Sirius found himself almost incapable of letting it go, even when he agreed with her. Usually it let to some decent (or rather, indecent) make-up sex, but he could tell he'd pushed her too far for that, this time.

"Kreacher!" he called. The mangy elf popped into the kitchen, looking as displeased as ever, probably at being interrupted at making Sirius' breakfast and at being called back, both.

"Yes, master?"

"We won't be needing your... services around Grimmauld Place any longer," Sirius said, the note of apology in his voice not for the elf, but for the work he'd be doing from here on out.

"Is master freeing Kreacher?" The house-elf looked almost greedy, and Sirius wondered exactly what sort of carnage the old thing would get up to, if freed.

"Absolutely not. You are to remain at Hogwarts and do the Headmistress' bidding, as before. You're not to return here unless called, which you won't be."

Kreacher didn't even bother sticking around long enough to reply; he just popped out of existence, and Sirius knew that was the last he'd see of the dreaded elf. And good riddance, too.

He wondered exactly how much grovelling was in store for him once Hermione returned.

Deciding to postpone the inevitable, like the Gryffindor he was, Sirius decided he'd leave early to go to Malfoy Manor. Hermione would get back, have enough time to cool down, and Sirius would return with an idea of how to handle their latest fight.

Sirius made the short walk to the Apparition point, a loud crack signalling his departure. He arrived across the lawn at Draco's family home. It was just as ostentatious and absolutely unnecessary as he remembered from his youth. Narcissa's marriage had been a coup for his family, but Sirius had other ideas about the match, ideas that had apparently proved true during the war.

Draco was opening the absurdly large front door before Sirius had even reached it.

"Hello," he said softly in a voice that Sirius would never had imagined him capable of. It sounded... nervous. And humble. Almost timid.

"Draco," he greeted, stepping into the Manor as Draco moved aside for him.

"Nice place you got here," he quipped, feeling unaccountably nervous.

Draco laughed quietly. "Tea?" he suggested. Upon Sirius' nod, he led them into a large and completely uncomfortable parlour.

It was obvious that nothing had changed in the house since it had fallen to Draco to head it. The furniture and finishings put Grimmauld Place to shame, even in her glory days, which had, of course, been before Sirius had left home. Sirius felt just as uncomfortable here as he had in his own home; the only consolation was that Draco looked nearly as uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly and not quite meeting Sirius' eyes.

He tried to make small talk, but it was evident that Draco was, for whatever reason, incapable.

"Is everything okay, Draco?" he finally asked, frustrated that his attempt to reach out had seemingly hit a wall.

"Sure," Draco answered, a poor attempt at casualness. "Listen, Mr. Black, if there's something I can do for you, you need only ask. I may not be able to help, but I can try."

Sirius froze. He wondered if Draco thought he was here to ask for money or something ridiculous like that. He had to admit, he'd thought the young man would be more... surprised, maybe, to see him. He had, after all, disappeared through a mysterious magical artefact for five years, only to be brought back by one of Draco's schoolday rivals.

And he really didn't like to be called Mr. Black.

"Draco, honestly. We're family, and from what I hear, you haven't got a lot left. Make that any. So you might as well stretch out that pale, manicured hand and grab hold of the olive branch while it's still in the offing."

Draco smiled thinly. He looked a little at a loss as to what to do. "I do appreciate you coming by..."

"Oh, no," Sirius interrupted rudely. "You can't get rid of me that easily! Listen, son, things got pretty fucked up for you, and I regret that. I regret that I wasn't able to be in your life growing up, because Merlin knows you could have used a different sort of influence. But that's all in the past now. Near as I can tell, we're both on the same page, now. Right? The war's over, kid. Why are you still fighting?"

Draco's response was completely unexpected. He dropped his head into his hands, shoulders shaking. Sirius was stunned. He didn't think the young man was crying, but he obviously wasn't far from it.

He thought of how he'd want someone to comfort Harry in this situation and moved to sit beside his cousin.

Draping an arm over the slender, shuddering form, Sirius cooed. He didn't know what else to do. He made nonsensical noises and promised about how he was here, things were different now, Sirius could help. He didn't know if any of it was heard, but a few moments later, like magic, Draco raised his head. His swollen eyes were the only evidence of any sort of breakdown.

That, and a rather indelicate sniff.

"I'll take that olive branch, now," Draco said, voice not wavering in the least.

Sirius grinned and hugged him. He tried not to look shocked when Draco hugged back.

Hermione felt like she'd been grumbling under her breath for hours. The shopping had been hell, her previous thoughts about it being more fun when the needs and desires of another person were taken into account completely obliterated.

A house-elf, she scoffed to herself. And Kreacher! Madness. All of it, madness.

But it was Sirius' house, and it was Sirius' elf. She could make her opinion known, oh, yes. But she couldn't force action.

After Disapparating from the market, Hermione walked the short distance to the house. She saw someone standing on the stoop and almost groaned aloud when she saw who it was.

"Mr. Frankenhodge," she said coolly, her hopes of having a few more days without the world knowing her secrets dashed.

He turned to her, blond hair streaked with black ink, even more so than when she'd last seen him. His eyes were bloodshot, his face gaunt. It was a massive change from the warm but somewhat pushy young man she'd been familiar with.

"Ms. Granger. I really need that interview, if you please," he said lowly, looking around.

Hermione followed his gaze, but couldn't tell what he was looking at.

"Now really isn't a good time," she said, trying to step past him. She just wanted to see Sirius and sort out their fight.

"Now is the only time," he snapped, yanking her arm, causing her to drop her bags.

The last thing she saw before the sickening tug of a Side-Along Disapparition was that the lovingly purchased Chocolate Frog had broken free of its confinement and was merrily hopping away.