Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and it's characters belong to J.K Rowling.

Warnings: This is currently rated T for dashes of colourful language here and there. As the story progresses these warnings may be subject to change.

Grimmauld Place could hardly have been called pleasant to begin with, but at least the last time he had stayed, there were people filling up all the dark spaces, and noise leaking through the eerie silences of the sprawling London mansion. Now, with the rooms closed off once more, and the dust settling heavily again on white sheets that were thrown haphazardly over surfaces, Fred couldn't help but think that it might be his least favourite place in the world. How Sirius has grown up in this pit of despair, Fred would never know, but he had revised his thoughts on Sirius' hatred for the property within hours of arriving with Harry and Hermione.

The two had gone to heal Hermione's wound in the front sitting room, as he had suggested, and he had been left to wander the Black house in search of the utterly useless Kreacher, who was house elf in nothing but name, it would seem. He eventually found the pitiful elf in the upper reaches of the house, scrounging in the wardrobe of his mistress, and it had nearly knocked Fred over as it scurried past him to get away from such a 'disgusting blood traitor'. He would have laughed at the sight of the dishevelled old creature as it ran past with barely a stitch on it, only there was no one there to share the joke with. He supposed Hermione wouldn't have laughed much at a house elf to begin with, whether it had taken to dressing up in it's former mistress' clothes or not.

In the previous summer, when the Weasley family had stayed with Sirius and Lupin, and the Order had come and gone hour by hour, Fred and George had taken to stalking the elf as it made it's way around the decrepit house. It had made for both entertainment and the honing of their sneaking skills, as the elf was an accomplished sneak itself when it wasn't muttering foul oaths beneath it's breath and giving the game away.

They had spied him once trying to polish a picture frame with the holiest sock Fred had ever seen, rivalling even a pair of Ron's that had been blasted with a backfiring Repairo charm and practically reduced to the original wool thread. They had decided then that Kreacher was either utterly barmy, or quite possibly, a genius in disguise. He had, after all, gotten everyone in the house to do all the chores, by simply making Molly too exasperated to bother with him.

George had pointed out that if all they had to do to get out of chores was wear a filthy pillowcase and walk around swearing continuously, well, they were already halfway there.

Fred chuckled at the memory, but quietened when there was no answering laughter at his side.

Pushing away the jarring image of George beside him, he followed Kreacher's dusty footprints down the many staircases, and back into the bowels of the house.

OoXoO

Harry had finished applying the dittany to Hermione's wound and bandaging the area with a Ferula spell in case the delicate new skin reopened, by the time Fred finally entered the dim sitting room. He was glad that Fred hadn't been present during the process, as Hermione had had to strip off the dress she was wearing in order to heal the cut, and Harry could still feel the heat staining his cheeks red. He may have thought of her like a sister, but a partially naked female body was still precisely that, and it unfortunately came to the forefront of his mind that she wasn't actually his sister after all. He would never have lived it down if Fred had borne witness to that particular bout of awkwardness.

Hermione had just dressed herself in a set of warm pyjamas and Accio'd the three of them pillows and sleeping bags from her enchanted bag, deciding that they should camp together in the lounge rather than brave the darkened upstairs bedrooms. Fred closed the door behind him and came to join them on one of the lumpy old couches surrounding the cold fireplace.

'A message came while you were gone - a weasel,' Harry said, looking up from his knuckles, where his eyes had been firmly rooted while Hermione had dressed.

'Dad,' said Fred, 'What did it say?' His mouth set into a grim line, as if readying himself for unwanted news.

'He said they're all right, but they're being watched. We can't contact anyone.'

Fred let out a sigh and his posture relaxed for the first time since they had left the Burrow.

'Did you find Kreacher?' Harry asked.

'Yeah, ran off before I could say anything to him, but he knows he has company at least,' Fred smirked and looked to be suppressing a laugh. Harry raised an eyebrow, but decided not to question Fred's sometimes dubious sense of humour. Whatever it was, Harry thought he'd rather not know.

'All right then. I'll talk to him tomorrow, I doubt he'll be interested in chatting tonight or in the morning, but right now I can't be bothered with him.'

Harry sighed and leant back into the couch, closing his leaden eyes and wishing fervently that he would be somewhere else when he opened them. Anywhere else. His scar had been throbbing since they had arrived at Grimmauld Place and he suspected that it would only get worse as long as he was awake. Voldemort was obviously displeased with his followers yet again.

'I'm sure Kreacher's been very lonely here by himself, Harry. He'll probably quite like to have company again,' Hermione said, getting up from the couch and casting Incendio in the hearth. The small pile of wood stacked in the grate took light and began to burn happily, the warming glow barely licking the edges of the small circle the three sleeping bags had made in front of it. Laying down in her sleeping bag, Hermione rolled onto her side and looked back at Harry, grimacing as she shifted her weight.

'I doubt that,' Harry grimaced, 'Have you forgotten how much Kreacher hates everyone he has contact with? I know you have your elf crusade, Hermione, but I'm fairly sure Kreacher would rather stick his head on the wall with the other stuffed elves, than talk to any of us.'

'S.P.E.W is not a crusade, Harry. Besides, I think you're being far too harsh on Kreacher. He hated Sirius, so you've decided to hate him in return,' she frowned, her voice beginning to take on the usual heightened tones she gained when her favourite subject was in discussion.

'Kreacher's mental, Hermione. Under all that blood purity nonsense and brainwashing, he's a sneaky, hoarding, hateful little sprite. Not many redeeming parts to him, I'd say. Although, if you're in need of anyone to model your wardrobe for you, I'd put him at the top of your list,' Fred laughed.

Harry looked at him with a puzzled sort of smile, but Hermione's eyes darkened and she shot back, 'You should be careful how you speak of others, Fred Weasley. Kreacher is far from mental, and we would be wise to show him kindness and respect. I think you'll find that you get a lot more from people by being nice, than by making them into jokes.' With that she turned her back on the boys and made a show of going to sleep.

Harry and Fred shared a look, before Harry shrugged and got up to get into his sleeping bag.

'Best get some sleep, yeah? We'll all be better in the morning,' he advised, before flicking his wand toward the oil lamps and leaving the fire as the only source of light in the room.

Fred nodded and crawled into his makeshift bed, but remained awake until the last of the embers turned to ash in the fireplace, and the light went out completely.

OoXoO

Morning came around all too quickly, and Fred woke alone on the floor of the sitting room, Harry and Hermione's sleeping bags neatly rolled and stacked next to one of the embroidered armchairs. There was no other trace to show that anyone had been there at all.

Hearing a muffled clanking coming from the kitchen, Fred pushed himself up onto his elbows and clambered out of the snug sleeping bag. He couldn't decide whether he should feel thankful that Harry and Hermione had left him to sleep, or resentful for being left on his own. He went with the easier option of feeling grimy instead, sleeping in clothes was not his favourite pastime. Sleeping in clothes that he'd had a duel in was even less so. Groaning, he kicked the sleeping bag until it rolled up in an approximation of Hermione's tidier efforts, and threw it on top of the two other bags, before making his way down into the basement kitchen.

Hermione was rummaging in the pantry when he entered the room, while Harry sat at the long table, his head resting on crossed arms and watching Hermione with an indifferent glaze pasted on his face, as she pulled items from the shelves and muttered to herself. Fred took a seat next to Harry and leaned back in the chair as Harry turned his head toward him.

'Good sleep?'

'Fine,' Fred smiled, feeling the uncomfortable pull of the false gesture, but not bothering to put any real effort into making it convincing, 'Is she all right this morning?' He asked, nodding his head towards Hermione slightly.

Harry's eyebrow quirked and he opened his mouth to speak, but was beaten by Hermione loudly complaining from inside the pantry.

'There is nothing to eat in this place, honestly, you'd think that Wizards would be better with food preservation. It's not like they don't have magic after all.'

Harry smiled at Fred as if to say I think that answers your question, before looking back at Hermione. 'Never heard of fridges, I suppose,' he commiserated.

'Hmm, there are some dusty cans of peaches and a half box of cereal that's most likely stale. Who knows where it came from. No milk of course, we'll have to make do with the juice from the peaches.' She sighed and brought the items over to the table before collecting bowls and spoons, and sitting down opposite the boys.

'It'll be fine, Hermione, stop worrying,' said Harry, sitting up and pulling a bowl over towards him, when the spell Hermione was using to open the can resulted in juice splattering him in the face.

'Sorry, Harry!' She gasped, a smile tugging at her mouth. Fred couldn't help but laugh as Harry swiped at his face and licked his fingers.

'I'd prefer my breakfast in my stomach, thanks Hermione,' Harry grinned. Hermione had the grace to look bashful and put her head down, but Fred could see a small smile settle on her face as she rationed out the meagre breakfast for each of them.

When the three had finished eating, which didn't take long as there wasn't a lot to begin with, Hermione regained her determined expression. 'We're going to need to sort out this food issue if we're staying here, Harry. And we'd best clean some bedrooms too. No point in sleeping on the floor if we're going to be here a while.'

'How did the Order get food when we were last here?' Harry asked, frowning as if he'd never thought about it before. Probably hasn't, Fred surmised.

'Just get Kreacher to sort out food,' said Fred, 'It's what he's here for, supposedly. He'll have a token to take what he needs from the house account. Or he should anyway. He probably sleeps with it like a trophy, like some creepy Black heirloom,' he laughed. Harry grinned at him, but Hermione scowled and her hands clenched into small fists.

'Fred Weasley, stop being so heartless! Kreacher doesn't deserve to be mocked, it's not his fault that he's been left here on his own. I don't doubt that he tries to hold on to his memories in any way that he can,' Hermione snapped, staring at Fred from across the table as Harry sat looking from one to the other, his grin fading fast and unsure if he should step in or leave them to sort their own issues.

Fred stilled and returned the stare for a moment, before standing and shaking his head, 'Merlin, Hermione, this S.P.E.W nonsense of yours is just getting ridiculous. I didn't mean anything by it. Thanks for breakfast, I'm going to see if there's any hot water for a shower.'

He left the room without a backwards glance.

OoXoO

'What on earth has gotten into him?' Said Hermione, when she and Harry were once again alone in the kitchen.

'Are you asking that seriously, or are you just making an idle comment?'

'He's acting like an arse.'

'You're not exactly winning any awards right now either,' Harry reproved. Hermione shot him a glare.

'And what do you mean by that?'

'Nothing,' Harry sighed, 'Just, that's twice now that you've had a go at him. Don't you think you're being a bit harsh, Hermione?'

'He's being needlessly cruel about Kreacher, Harry, someone needs to stick up for house-elf rights.'

'I'm guilty of it too, and you haven't shouted at me. He's just trying to have a laugh, Hermione. The bloke probably hasn't spent more than a couple of hours apart from his twin in his whole life, and now he's stuck here with us. He can't even contact George to know if he's okay.'

'We don't know what's going on with Ron either,' she sniffed, her shoulders rounding slightly. Harry reached across the table and grasped Hermione's hand, giving her a small squeeze.

'Is that what's bothering you? That Ron isn't here?' Harry asked. Hermione nodded and pulled her hand from Harry's, using it to brush the evidence of hot tears from her face. 'I'm not happy either, you know. I know I said at the beginning that I wanted to do this alone, but I always thought that I'd have the two of you beside me. I can't even imagine what Fred's going through without George though. Ron's like a brother to me, but George is much more than that to Fred. Must be like being split in half. Honestly, I think he's taking it pretty well, all things considered.'

'I - you're right, Harry. I wasn't thinking about what Fred's going through. Have I been awful?' Hermione asked in a quiet voice. She looked up at Harry and he shook his head firmly.

'No, he'll understand. I wish there was something we could do for him though.'

They were both quiet for some minutes, Harry got up and cleared away the breakfast plates, while Hermione sat with her head in her hands, her eyes shut.

'Maybe there is,' she said after a time. Harry looked back at her from the sink where the dishes were drying themselves.

'Maybe there is, what?' He gave her a puzzled look to which she gave an exasperated sigh.

'It can't be that hard to figure out a way to keep them in contact.'

'Oh. What do you have in mind?' Harry asked, curiosity peaked as he caught the look in Hermione's eye. That look of her mind ticking over with plans and ideas.

'Books, Harry, keep up.'

'Books?' Harry repeated, but Hermione didn't answer, she simply smiled and left the room without another word.

'Books.' Harry shook his head to himself, before following her out of the room. He supposed he should go talk to Kreacher and clean some bedrooms. He wouldn't be getting anything out of Hermione for the next few hours.