Padfoot's Twelve Days of Christmas
This is the fourth day in a challenge I have with my wonderful sister and fellow author, Rinnie10, to create 12 little stories on the 12 days of Christmas. Its a little bit silly and a lot of fun, because hey! That's how we roll! Enjoy. And review. Because one can never have too many reviews. They are like presents! So be charitable and give this year! Haha! Enjoy!
Day Four
On The Fourth Day of Christmas, A House Elf Gave to Me… Four Boiled Eggs
The moon had passed. Sirius had spent the night gamboling around the Shrieking Shack as a hound, chasing a very irritable, and very canine Remus Lupin. He had barked himself hoarse, and ran until he was too tired to move. The morning saw him back in his bed, safe in the towers that made up the Gryffindor sleeping quarters.
His dreams, when they came, were filled with pranks, dares, detentions, and above all, his friends. They four, the Marauders of Hogwarts, were what kept him sane at the moment. His family, the Purebloods that he despised, were teetering on the brink of true darkness. His cousins, Cissi and Bella, were aligning themselves with the Lestranges and the Malfoys. He had heard stories of Lucius's father Abraxas, and it didn't make for repeating. They were beginning to shun him, in favour of greed and power, and he didn't like it one bit.
A loup POP startled him awake. He scrabbled for his wand, but as he reached for it, it flew from his desk with a snap. Only one thing could do that.
"KREACHER!" He yelled, rubbing his eyes in a groggy manner. He was still extremely tired, and not in the mood for any games that the damned House Elf would try.
"Master summons Kreacher?" Came the sour reply. It sounded like it came from the closet.
"Show yourself!" Sirius demanded. The door to the wardrobe opened, and Kreacher shuffled out, holding a plate with four soggy looking grey objects on, and a sock partially hanging over his long, drooping ear.
"Kreacher knows Master Black must be hungry, what with Master staying up all night with his friends." Kreacher droned out, removing the sock with utmost disgust.
"I told you not to mention that where others could hear!" He sat up, running a hand through his hair. He asked himself why had the elf come in the first place, and realised it was to torture him. Had his mother put Kreacher up to this? It wouldn't surprise him if she did, the old battle-axe never missed an opportunity to show her son how different he was, how much shame he brought to the family by being a Gryffindor. "What are you even doing here anyway?"
"Kreacher has made sure that Master is alone, not to worry. Kreacher has made Master breakfast in bed!" Something akin to pride crept into Kreacher's voice, and for a moment Sirius actually felt sorry for him. Then he thrust the plate under Sirius's face, and came eye to eye with the saddest looking breakfast he had ever seen. There were four grey spongy oval shaped, well things, on the plate.
"What are these things Kreacher?" He ventured a poke, and they were warm to the touch.
"Why master, they are eggs! Kreacher has made you four boiled eggs!" A grin appeared on the elf's face and Sirius groaned. He HATED boiled eggs.