Kreacher

Hermione snuggled down in her comfy chair by the fire and smiled with contentment. She didn’t speak, only watched the Black boys as they spoke as true brothers for the first time in, perhaps, ever. Their stories were laced with tragedy, but there was an inescapable feeling of hope now that they were alive and had, at the very least, each other.

She studied their faces; the similarities were remarkable, despite the exaggerated age difference. Sirius would never be known as mature, no matter how old he grew. His eyes held a spark of warmth Regulus could not match. What Regulus had was an air of sophistication. His subtle gestures, expressions and inflections of voice indicated his aristocratic background more than his physical features could. Hermione found herself entranced.

She rested her chin in her hand, happily going unnoticed by the two men. That is what she thought anyway. Sirius was aware of his brother’s sly glances to the corner. Not that he could blame him. She was not the 16 year old girl he knew before. He would defer to Regulus this time in honor of their newfound friendship, making a mental note to remind him that he would beat the ever-loving crap out of him, if he didn’t treat her like royalty.

On this thought, Sirius politely excused himself on the pretense of using the bathroom.

Hermione and Regulus were left in an awkward silence before she leapt to her feet and grabbed him by the hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think of it before; I have something to show you!” He didn’t have time to put up a fight before she dragged him out the door and down the stairs to the kitchen.

The room was dark, so she did not see him frown when she dropped his hand. She proceeded over to Kreacher’s old cupboard and knelt down. His heart skipped a beat. Kreacher was still alive after all this time?

“Wake up, you have a visitor,” she whispered. Regulus was shaking.

“What does the Mudblood want? Waking poor old Kreacher when he is sleeping?”

Mudblood?

“Kreacher, please. You need to get up.” The elderly elf emerged from the cupboard, despite not being required to follow Hermione’s orders.

“Kreacher needs his rest and you are waking poor—”

“Kreacher!” The elf was stunned.

“M-master Regulus?” He stepped back and glared angrily at Hermione. “The Mudblood is playing tricks on poor Kreacher.”

“It’s no trick, Kreacher; it’s me, Regulus.” He knelt on the floor as well. Kreacher still eyed him warily. “Your mother’s name was Kreely. You got that scar on your arm when you tried to stop Sirius and me from fighting when we were kids and Sirius accidentally hit you with a lamp. You—“

Kreacher flung himself forward with renewed strength. Spindly arms wrapped around his master’s middle as he sobbed unabashedly into his robes. Regulus hugged him back with equal force.

Hermione burst into tears just watching the reunion.

That was how Sirius found them when he decided to grab a bite to eat: sitting in the dark, crying like little children.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

With a snap of Kreacher’s fingers, the room was lit. Hermione busily wiped her face with her sleeve. Regulus smiled at the house-elf in front of him.

“Thank you. For all you’ve done for me.”

Regulus and Hermione got to their feet, both looking at Sirius rather sheepishly. He only shook his head and laughed as he turned to rifle through the cabinets for food.

Kreacher quickly shooed Sirius out of the kitchen. He gave no indication of his recently failing health while he bustled around, bent on preparing his long lost master’s favorite meal.

-o-O-o-

Regulus kept his eyes down, idly tracing a scratch in the table with his fingers. He was not listening to Hermione and Sirius chatter on about some hippogriff.

So she was a Mudblood after all. He would not have guessed it apart from her name. He was confused as to why this disappointed him. After all, he didn’t really know her. Sirius seemed to think she walked on water, but she was of the fairer sex, which was probably enough reason for him.

She was not vacuous and simple like the Muggle-borns at school. They were overly fascinated with their own magical ability. This girl used magic with ease and experience, like it was the most natural thing in the world for her.

And she was… nice. Definitely not like the girls he knew at school. Or the rare ones he met in his chosen profession. He attracted one sort of girl. The kind that wanted the Black name on her children.

He glanced up from his musings to see his brother eyeing him. It was surreal to see him as an older man. He had not spoken to him since Sirius left Hogwarts, and even then, it had been strained.

Hermione broke the tension by sighing and rubbing her face with her hands. Sirius patted her back affectionately.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Hermione.”

“I’m just so afraid he’ll rupture his stomach or something.”

“These things happen; kids are tough. You know, when Harry was little he got into my cloak while James and I were playing Exploding Snap. The little brat swallowed seven Galleons before we caught him.”

“That’s terrible!”

“It was. I had a date that night. I needed the money.”

Hermione stared at him open-mouthed.

“What?”

Regulus snorted.

“Oh, Harry was fine. James and Lily took him to St. Mungo’s and got them taken out. I kept one as a souvenir. Meant to give it to him when he was older, but…”

No one spoke again until Kreacher tottered in with a large serving tray. He received a thank you from both Regulus and Hermione. He was so thrilled to have his rightful master back, he forgot to cringe when Hermione spoke to him.

“So, what is this stone he may have swallowed?”

Hermione watched Regulus cut his filet into tiny pieces before answering.

“Are you familiar with the Tale of the Three Brothers?”

“Isn’t that a children’s story?” Regulus looked up from his plate.

“Yes. As it turns out, the story is more than a fairy tale. Harry, Ron and I discovered it is a true tale of the Peverell brothers.”

“Peverell?” Sirius leaned forward in his seat with interest. “That’s an old wizarding family name. James—”

“Is a direct descendant of Ignotus Peverell, the youngest of the three brothers. His invisibility cloak is one of the Deathly Hallows. A gift from Death himself.”

Both men stared at her in disbelief. Sirius knew James had Peverell blood, but never connected that name with the old story. What shocked him more was that the ever skeptical Hermione believed it.

Regulus immediately saw the connection between the tale and his current predicament.

“So the stone you and Harry were talking about, the one the boy may have swallowed, is the Resurrection Stone?”

Hermione nodded, meeting his hard glare. She could tell he was trying to determine if she spoke the truth.

“Why didn’t you or Harry use it before, if it really has the power to bring back the dead?” Sirius asked her now, also looking at her intently.

“That’s just it. The Stone doesn’t bring people fully back. It doesn’t work like the second brother expected. It only brings back a shadow of the person, insubstantial, like a ghost. Harry used it in the forest, when he went to face Voldemort. Sirius, you appeared to him.” He looked dumbfounded.

“I have no memory of that.” Hermione only nodded and continued.

“James, Lily and Remus as well. They spoke to Harry, but disappeared the moment he dropped the Stone. That is why it doesn’t make any sense that it worked now. If it is even the reason behind your, uh, presence.”

“I suppose we may never know.” Regulus stirred his mashed potatoes thoughtfully. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad it happened. I’ve made a right mess of things in my life,” and his eyes flicked to his left arm, “maybe this is my chance to make up for that.”

“Hear, hear.” Sirius raised his water glass, then scowled. “I think this calls for something a little stronger.”