Author's Notes: Here's chapter two. So far, I've taken most of my notes for this chapter and thrown them right in a blender. I didn't intend to write any of this when I started but I loved where it ended up. I hope you enjoy!

As always the world of Harry Potter does not belong to me but J.K. Rowling

Chapter 2

Harry lay awake that night in the room he was sharing with Ron at 12 Grimmauld Place. The room was musty and uncomfortable, though Ron seemed not to care as the sound of him snoring echoed in the small space. Harry, who rarely slept well his first night in a new place, felt his mind race every time he closed his eyes. Everything he had been told after dinner, coupled with seeing Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and everyone else circled around his head without end. In his hand under the blanket was a note Hermione had slipped him when she hugged him on the landing before going to bed.

Meet me in the kitchen at midnight

Harry had crumpled it up when he'd read it the first time, letting his anger at his best friend flow freely. No, he thought, I wont meet her. Ill let her stay in the dark about me for a while. He was angry at all of them, and the fact that Dumbledore had made them promise not to tell him anything didn't make it any better. He listened as an old grandfather clock somewhere in the house chimed half past eleven, and he clenched his fist around the note again. When the chime went off for quarter till, almost without willing himself to, Harry got up, unlocked the door and slipped out into the hallway.

His and Ron's bedroom was on the second floor of the house. Harry listened for any sound of noise on the landings above. At least one floor up was Mrs. Weasley's room, and she had already come down twice to check that they were asleep since they'd all come upstairs for the night. The stairs creaked slightly as he made his way down to the first floor. Turning, he continued down the once grand staircase and emerged into the dark and gloomy entrance hallway. The portrait of Sirius's mother was breathing quietly behind her moth eaten curtains, and Kreacher was nowhere to be seen.

Down in the kitchen it was cold. The high ceilings and the stone floors had long since sucked any heat that the room had held hours before. A small gas lamp sat on a sideboard as the only light in the room. Harry moved it to the table and pulled out a chair to sit down, wishing Hermione would get here soon before he caught a cold. His ears were listening for any sound of movement, and it was a few minutes before he caught the whisper of slippered feet on stone.

Hermione, her hair as busy as ever and wearing a purple dressing gown and robe, came into the room and upon seeing Harry, flung herself at him for a hug, much as she had hours before when he'd first arrived in the bedroom upstairs. This time it was different however, it lasted longer and she held him tighter.

"I'm so sorry, Heather." She whispered in his ear.

Harry stiffened at the sound of the name and didn't respond for a moment. Inside him raged his anger at Hermione coupled with relief that she hadn't changed her mind about him.

"I'm sure you must think horrible things about me because of my letters" Hermione continued, still holding him tight, "I wanted to use your name in my letters, but Ron was always there when I was writing to you and Ginny, and I were scared that if someone read the letter they might find out about Heather."

Still Harry was silent, taking that in. It made sense, especially the part about having to hide it from Ron. While Hermione and Ginny knew the full truth about Heather, after what had happened last fall between them, Harry hadn't felt comfortable opening up to Ron about it. It had been awkward enough when Ron had found out it was true that Harry liked other boys. The thought of telling his best mate that he liked to wear dresses and knickers would probably be too much.

"I was thinking some bad things, and I'm sorry too. I should have known that's why you couldn't. It's just been so much this summer." Harry finally said into her shoulder.

"Heather, I will always love and support you, as Heather or Harry. You're my best friend."

"I know that. I'm sorry, I was being stupid." He replied, feeling slightly ashamed.

"Its ok," she said, a smile crossing her face, "teenage girls are stupid sometimes,"

With that sentence the ice was broken and they both started giggling. Harry could feel a weight lift from his shoulders and without even realizing it he stood straighter.

"Do you have my clothes with you?" he asked her.

"Of course, Ginny and I have them divided between our trunks. We have everything you'll need for being Heather."

"I cant wait to get back to our clubhouse." Harry said, thinking back to the last time the three of them had spent a day in there. Ginny had convinced him to go for a walk in the second floor corridor all dressed up and Harry had not been able to get the memory out of his head since. Not even his anger and lethargy had been able to drive it completely away.

"I think I want to do more this year." He said, "maybe leave the clubhouse more?"

"Oooh, that would be fun. We'd have to be careful though."

"I know."

For hours, the two of them talked, catching up on their summers. Harry had little to say about staying with the Dursley's, so Hermione filled him in on how bad the house had been when they'd first arrived. Suddenly the sound of soft footsteps in the corner of the kitchen were heard and they both looked around to see two large pale eyes staring at them from the far side of the room.

"Kreacher" whispered Hermione, a mix of pity and apprehension in her voice.

"We'd best get to bed. It's late," said Harry.

The two made their way quietly up the stairs. On the first floor, which was where Hermione and Ginny's room was, Hermione pulled Harry into one more tight hug. When he finally slipped back between the covers of his bed, Harry was feeling much more at ease.

He woke the next morning and for a moment had to wonder where he was. For once he hadn't returned to the graveyard and seen Cedric killed, and even having missed hours of sleep talking with Hermione, he felt extremely refreshed. Harry soon learned the truth of what Hermione and Ron had told him last night. Living at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix wasn't anything terribly exciting. That morning was spent cleaning the drawing room on the first floor, trying to remove a large nest of doxies from the curtain drapes above the sofa. There was no time or attention to spare for talking, as once the assault began doxies swarmed everywhere. It wasn't until almost noon that the floor was littered with a small bodies and Mrs. Weasley called a halt for lunch.

After she had been gone for a while Harry walked over to Sirius who was looking at a large tapestry that covered an entire wall of the drawing room. On it were spidery lines connecting names of the Black Family and their marriages all the way back to the thirteenth century. Harry had never considered before that Sirius was related to so many dark witches and wizards, including the Malfoy's. While they talked the subject of Harry's upcoming hearing was brought up, and Harry asked something that had been on his mind since he'd arrived.

"Sirius, if I'm expelled, can I come live with you here?" He asked

A small, sad, smile crossed Sirius's face, and he reached a hand down to rest on Harry's shoulder. "We'll see what happens when it happens."

"I just think id be a lot more comfortable knowing I had a place to go if things don't go well."

"You'd really want to live in this place? Sirius asked, glancing around at the dust and grime.

"It's better than the Dursley's." He replied with a tone that left no question of its sincerity.

All through lunch Harry's mind was full of visions of living in this house if he didn't go back to school. Getting his own bedroom and, with some actual privacy, being able to dress more often in it. Maybe in time he'd be able to tell Sirius or Mrs. Weasley about Heather. It didn't do much to lift his spirits but it was nice to think of not going back to Privet drive.

After lunch, the group started going through the many glass front cabinets along one wall, investigating and throwing away many of the delicate items inside. Harry saw a few rings or other beautiful pieces of jewelry that he at first thought of sneaking back to his room for Heather, but after a snuffbox took a bite out of Sirius's hand, he thought better of it.

For the next few days, they worked their way through the rest of the drawing room slowly returning it to a state where someone might be able to enjoy the room for more than five minutes without needing a shower. Harry suspected that, in addition to the legitimate reason of making the house livable again, Mrs. Weasley was keeping them busy so as to distract from the upcoming hearing. All of them were kept so busy that there was little time where he could talk to Hermione or Ginny without other people around.

On the night before the date of his hearing, Harry couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes visions of him being expelled filled his brain. After almost an hour of tossing and turning, he decided to get up and go down to the kitchen for a drink of water. As he passed the door to the girl's bedroom, he considered for a moment knocking and seeing if they wanted to talk but decided he didn't want to risk getting caught by Mrs. Weasley.

As he walked down the stone steps to the basement, he saw that the fire was still lit. Sitting at the end of the table, with what looked like a bottle of firewhiskey in front of him, was Sirius. The noise of Harry entering the room broke whatever trance Sirius was in and he looked up.

"Harry, why are you still awake?"

"couldn't sleep" replied Harry. He was looking closely at Sirius's face, which in the dim firelight had taken on a haggard look much like it had when he'd just escaped Azkaban.

"Worried about tomorrow?" Sirius asked, gesturing at the chair next to him.

Sitting down Harry said "Yeah, I guess so. I just don't know what I'll do if they expel me."

"Do you still want to come live here?" asked Sirius.

"Absolutely"

"Then lets say this, if for some reason tomorrow doesn't go your way, then you'll always have a room in this house." Sirius replied, looking a mix of both hopeful and sad.

"You mean it?" Harry asked, not quite believing it.

"Of course I do. You're my godson."

At those words, a memory of Sirius saying much the same thing last term in the cave near Hogsmeade came back to him. Harry remembered feeling a twinge at the word godson, thinking it somehow didn't sit right.

Something in his face must have given away his mood because Sirius asked, "What's really eating you, Harry?"

"You wouldn't understand." Replied Harry without thinking.

"You know, I remember me telling you and Ron and Hermione that last year about what it was like during the last war. Ron told me that you all had seen plenty of things yourselves and to give you a try. So, I did, and now I'll say it to you. Try me." Sirius said evenly, looking Harry in the eyes.

With that Sirius poured himself another drink and sat back in his chair, waiting. Harry was trying to decide whether or not to tell Sirius everything. He was the closest thing to a father that he'd ever known, but in many ways was still a stranger. Sirius had written him many times since they'd first met and was a huge help and support during the tournament last year, even letting Harry vent about his issues with Ron and his fears about the dragon. But on the other hand, they'd had less than half a dozen face to face conversations. Harry was on the verge of opening up about Heather when he abruptly decided against it.

"It's everything the prophet has been writing about me. I'm afraid of what going back to school will be like." He said, knowing that he didn't sound very convincing.

Sirius stayed quiet, sipping his drink. Apparently deciding that Harry wasn't going to say anything more than that, he spoke. "Harry, you can't let what someone writes about you control your life. If you do, you'll never be able to do anything again. I'm sorry you're the focus of Fudge's attention right now, but you're used to fame. What matters is what you think about yourself."

"It's not that easy." Harry replied.

"Of course it's not. Nothing is ever as easy as that. But you've got to start somewhere." Sirius said, reaching out and grasping Harry by the shoulder, much as he had days before in the drawing room.

"Sirius, I don't know where I belong."

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked.

"I don't have a home to go back to, and even if I'm not expelled, will Hogwarts still feel like home what with everyone believing I'm a liar and mad?"

"Harry, I've already told you, you have a home here now. For the rest of your life if you need it, no matter what. And as for Hogwarts and everyone there, they don't matter. I know it seems like that's your whole world right now, but it isn't. Now, it's late and you need to be up early tomorrow."

Feeling somewhat better, though still not sure if he'd done the right thing by not coming out to Sirius, the two of them extinguished the fire and climbed the stairs to their respective bedrooms. As he heard Sirius climbing the next two floors up, Harry looked around at the dark landing, trying to accept that this gloomy old house was possibly about to become his new home.