Chapter Four – The Two Masters

"I can't believe it, Harry! I really can't!" Hermione exclaimed some forty minutes later when everyone had settled down a little and had had a chance to wash and dress. Percy had taken it upon himself to Floo to The Burrow to find some clean clothes for his family and he had returned with a large, battered trunk. Looking grim but determined, he had then announced that he was off to the Ministry and not even Mrs Weasley had been able to persuade him to stay at Grimmauld Place.

Hermione had dug three sets of fairly clean Muggle wear out of her beaded bag for herself, Ron and Harry. Now she was pouring tea into seven mugs, frowning and looking slightly offended, as if angry that somebody had intentionally neglected to inform her about the possibility of Returning people from what was presumed to be a certain death. In a way, Harry supposed, she had a point.

He watched the steam rise from the mugs, feeling slightly thrown off balance himself after the recent events. "Well, you had better begin to, because it's true."

"But how?" She shook her head, her bushy hair dancing around her face. "I have never heard of such a Wish. And he died."

"Not really," said Harry, "apparently."

"But–"

"Hermione," Harry cut across her rather sternly. "Come off it. I don't care what happened, really. All I care about is that he has come back."

She opened her mouth in protest but closed it again. Instead a small smile curved her lips. "You know, Harry, despite everything, you look happier now than you have in... well, months."

"Years?" he suggested, smiling too.

"Years," she conceded before lowering her voice. "So did he, um, tell you what it was like behind the Veil?"

"No..." Harry glanced over to where his godfather and Mr Weasley were seated at the table, engaged in what looked like a serious conversation. "We didn't get into that." The truth was that he'd been too overjoyed to have Sirius returned to him to want to think about the time he'd been considered dead. "There was so much else to tell..."

"Yeah," she sighed. Then she pushed back her hair and looked him straight in the eye. "Listen, Harry, I'm sorry about yesterday. I really did mean to come downstairs again and keep you company but Mrs Weasley was crying so and Ron and I hadn't had time to talk properly since..." A blush creeping across her cheeks completed her sentence for her.

Harry, who might have been disappointed with her under other circumstances, only smiled. "I guessed as much."

"Oh...!" She caught him in a hug. "Thanks for... Just... Oh, you know..."

His smiled turned into a grin. "Don't spend too much time alone with Ron, though," he warned upon pulling back. "This is the second time in an hour I've seen you at loss for words."

The corners of her mouth twitched but she managed a decent enough scowl. To make amends, Harry offered to carry the tea over to the table and distribute the mugs. He could have done it quicker by magic, but he liked having something to do and the heat that seeped through the porcelain into his hands was welcome. Despite it being a sunny day, the basement kitchen was slightly chilly.

"Percy already knows but we should prepare the others," Mrs Weasley was saying, but she sounded vague, as if she had trouble focusing even though she kept staring at Sirius. Her cheeks were stained with the traces of her tears. "Or Bill and Fleur will be just as surprised when they come back from work..."

"We could stick a note to the door," suggested Ron. "Something like: 'Sirius is alive. Please don't scream when you see him'."

"Because sending a Patronus is so outdated," muttered George behind his mug.

This comment made them all freeze for a second or two and all eyes turned to him. Even Sirius himself and Mr Weasley, who had not reacted when Harry served them their tea, looked up with surprise etched into their faces.

"Oh right," said Ron, but it came out sounding automatic; he was gaping at his brother.

George only shrugged and after a moment's hesitation, Mrs Weasley began nodding eagerly, her trance shattered. "Oh, yes, and one for Kingsley, too, perhaps? Arthur?"

Her husband was quick to catch on. "Of course! I'll see to it, Molly."

After that, a new silence lowered itself upon them and Harry chose the empty seat on Sirius' left. Hermione sank down beside Ron. When Harry looked up, he found that Ginny was watching him intently from her seat between her parents. Something flipped Harry's stomach over and he was not sure whether it was all pleasurable. There were shadows under her eyes too, and though she had always been pale, her red hair contrasted so starkly against her skin now that she might have been fashioned out of marble. She held his gaze for a few shaky heartbeats but then she cast her eyes down.

Try as he might, he could not read her expression. He had missed her so desperately during the quest for the Horcruxes but now it was as though he could not think of a single thing to say to her. The sudden guilt nearly overpowered him; he had been so thrilled to have Sirius Returned to him that he had completely forgotten about her. But, he argued with himself, for two years I thought Sirius was dead – no one can blame me for being happy that he wasn't.

Only partly aware of it, he drew a little closer to his godfather. Sirius, however, noticed and shifted closer too, and he pulled Harry into a one-armed hug. When it was over, Sirius' hand dropped to a rest at the base of his spine. There was something new, almost intimate, about that touch but Harry drank it down greedily. It was like having his and Sirius' connection affirmed. It told him his godfather was truly here with him and very much alive.

He was torn from his musings as Hermione pushed back her chair and gained her feet. "I'll be right back."

They heard her climb the stairs and then the front door open and close. Mr Weasley looked troubled but, true to her word, Hermione reappeared in the kitchen not a minute later. She was carrying two copies of the Daily Prophet, one of which she dumped in the middle of the table and one which she kept for herself.

Ron shot the newspaper a disgusted glare. "Where'd you get that from?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I have renewed my subscription. Since the owls can't find the house, I'm having them dropping the papers off under those bushes by the litter bin in the square. A couple of spells keep the Muggles away..."

Ron did not even seem remotely impressed. "So we're reading that crap again?"

She gave him a pointed look. "Yes we are. Even if we mean to lie low for a while we will still want to know what's going on in the outside world. Besides," she inclined her head to Harry, "it is very likely that they've had a change of attitude."

"But we've got Percy to tell us what happening at the Ministry," protested Ron. "And Kingsley, who's the Minister, in case you've forgotten."

"You don't want to know the view that is being presented to the public?" Hermione countered.

Ron snorted. "Not really. A bunch of lies, that is." He pointed at the paper.

Sirius hand made a sort of circling motion that immediately drew Harry's attention away from his friends. "Those two?" Sirius murmured with his eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," he smiled.

"You sure?"

Harry elbowed him lightly in the ribs, earning himself a shaky, but familiar, grin. "Think I'm lying?" He was only vaguely aware of Ginny sliding from her chair and quietly leaving the kitchen, and George and Mrs Weasley doing the same not long thereafter. Sirius looked exhausted, but there was a timid sparkle in his grey eyes and Harry thought he had never seen anything so beautiful.

"Harry?"

He jerked at the sound of Ron's voice and tore his eyes away from Sirius' face. "Yeah?" His godfather's hand left his back and a sensation of loss slipped through Harry. He shoved it aside.

Hermione had disappeared behind the Prophet and Mr Weasley looked like he was waging a silent war with himself while staring at the untouched copy before him. In the end, he snatched it off the table and stood, mumbling something about sending the Patronuses but already scanning the first page.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Ron shook his head. "Mum's forbidden him to go back to work this week... Anyway, Harry, there aren't any of those sandwiches from yesterday left, by any chance? Or were those the only ones you found?" He frowned. "Where did they come from anyway?"

"Kreacher!" Harry suddenly remembered the conversation he'd had with the house-elf yesterday afternoon.

"Kreacher?" Ron echoed him. "He's alive? Really? I could sure use some breakfast..."

Hermione lowered her newspaper. "You saw Kreacher, Harry? But... oh my..." A crease had appeared between her brows. "

"What?" Harry asked her. He had never liked that particular look of hers since it usually meant that something was amiss.

"Well, you... inherited," she spoke the word with some distaste, "Kreacher from Sirius when he, um, died. But seeing as he is, well, alive again... Who is his master now?"

"I don't think he's ever truly served anyone but Regulus. Or Mrs Black," Harry suggested with a wry smile, but Sirius latched on where Hermione had left off:

"It's the same with the house," he said slowly. "I left it to Harry, and I'm not saying I want it back, but..."

"Couldn't you just summon Kreacher and see which one of you he obeys?" said Ron. When Hermione beamed at him, he shrugged self-consciously but looked fairly pleased with himself. "I'm hungry..."

"All right," said Sirius. "Harry, you have a go."

Harry cleared his throat, "OK... Eh, Kreacher!"

Crack. The house-elf with his snout-like nose materialised behind the chair at the head of the table. "Master Harry Potte-" He broke off, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Sirius. His solemn expression did not change much but his voice did: it dropped to a disgusted hiss. "It is back, the blood traitor! Poor mistress wept... wept and wept, she did... but Kreacher knew he was dead..."

Harry felt his godfather tense beside him and a glance at Hermione told him that she, too, was afraid of how Sirius might react.

"Kreacher," said Harry loudly, before the insults he sensed were coming – from either direction – could jeopardise their fragile peace, "as you can see, Sirius has returned."

The elf glared at him. "Kreacher is not blind, Harry Potter," he croaked.

"Of course you are not!" Hermione exclaimed and Ron rolled his eyes.

"We were wondering," Harry hastened to continue, "which one of us you will now recognise as your master?"

Kreacher shot Sirius a contemptuous glance. "Master Sirius killed my mistress, yes he did. Broke her heart..."

Sirius made a small move and Harry instinctively laid a hand on his arm. "Sirius," he warned in a low voice.

"It's OK, Harry." His godfather flashed him a grim smile before he turned to the elf. "Kreacher," he said tersely, "Harry has told me what you did for him and Ron and Hermione this past year, and what you did for my brother."

"Kreacher served brave Master Regulus faithfully," the elf muttered. "He told Harry Potter and his friends the truth. Kreacher does not lie about Master Regulus."

"No one's accusing you of lying!" said Hermione earnestly. "You were a great help to us, Kreacher, and we are very grateful."

"Shut up," muttered Ron.

"Listen," Sirius broke in, "I want to apologise to you, Kreacher."

The elf slowly turned back to face him with an expression of pure disbelief.

"I apologise for how I treated you," continued Sirius and despite the strain in his voice he sounded sincere enough, "but if you prefer Harry as your master, I won't object."

"Master Sirius apologises," sneered Kreacher quite audibly. "After he tore the family apart, the traitor. Yes, now he's sorry... Kreacher wonders–"

"I am," insisted Sirius, though he sat rigidly in his chair.

Kreacher glowered at him but then turned to Harry. "Kreacher knows of no bond to Master Sirius, he will serve Harry Potter," he grunted, looking very dispirited. He gave an odd, jerky nod of his head in Ron's and Hermione's direction. "Harry Potter's friends."

"Hey Kreacher..." Ron leaned forwards in his seat with a hopeful smile. "You don't happen to have a few more of those sandwiches from yesterday stored away somewhere?"

"Sandwiches?" Kreacher croaked with badly hidden distaste. He sent Sirius another glare. "Kreacher is a good house-elf. He will make a proper breakfast for his master if he wishes it."

"Brilliant!" Ron looked like he'd just won a thousand galleons. "Harry, come on! Speak up!"

Hermione made a noise of protest but Harry nodded. "Yeah, Kreacher, that'd be great. Breakfast for all of us, please?"

With a spasm that might have been a bow, Kreacher disappeared with a crack. Another odd sound escaped Hermione.

"I don't believe it!" Ron exclaimed upon turning to her. "You're actually crying?"

"No, I'm not!" she protested, fiercely rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You are!" Ron doubled over with laughter.

Grinning, Harry watched as Hermione, glassy-eyed, tried to fight a smile. "Oh, all right! It was just so..."

"Sweet?" supplied Ron, still chuckling. "Sirius, mate, you shouldn't have done that."

"Yes, he should!" said Hermione at once. "Remember that Kreacher–"

"Yeah, yeah..." Ron waved her explanation away, "we know."

"I meant it, though," Sirius told Harry, clearly a trace of disbelief in his voice. "I never thought I'd say that, but... I did mean it. I think I did, at least."

"You OK with me...er... keeping him, then?" asked Harry.

His godfather smiled, a peculiar small smile, tinged with sadness. "Keep him, keep the house... I want to see you happy, Harry."

"I don't think a house will..." he trailed off when he met Sirius' eyes. A thrill he had never known before shot through him. "I want to see you happy, too," he mumbled.

He was sure Ron and Hermione were still arguing but he did not make out a single word. All he knew was that Sirius was smiling at him and that he never wanted him to stop.

TBC