Chapter 1: Uncomfortable
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
Hermione read the short note and looked up at Professor McGonagall curiously, mouthing "Order?"
The professor lit the scrap of parchment on fire and said, "In due time," as it crumbled into ashes, then gestured ahead. Hermione looked and was startled to see a house where there hadn't been one before. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "The Fidelius Ch-"
"Sh!" Professor McGonagall hissed.
"Oh, right. Sorry," Hermione muttered, chagrined. Mutely, she trailed after the professor, mentally castigating herself for blurting out loud an indication of an obviously secret-kept home…while standing directly in front of said home. Her cheeks were flaming in humiliation. When they reached the front door, Professor McGonagall pulled out her wand and tapped the door once. Hermione heard a series of loud, metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open, and the professor ushered her inside.
Hermione gazed about the dark hall she found herself in, clutching Crookshanks' carrier close. It was stuffy, damp, and smelled of decay. She crinkled her nose automatically against the stench then hastily smoothed her features, not wishing to offend the professor. Surely this wasn't her home? Hermione didn't spy an ounce of tartan and concluded there was no way this dreary, rotten, tartanless home could belong to her Head of House.
"Oh for goodness' sake," Professor McGonagall muttered, sweeping her wand in front of her. With a soft hiss, a collection of ancient gas-lamps sputtered and caught along the walls, casting flickering light across the peeling wallpaper. Hermione glanced up and noticed a chandelier generously laden with cobwebs. "He knew we were coming," she grumbled, clearly irritated.
"Come along, Miss Granger. Quietly," the professor stressed, lips pursed and eyes darting to a moth-eaten velvet curtain on the wall.
Still smarting over her blunder outside, Hermione hung her head and shuffled quietly after Professor McGonagall down the hall, through a door, down a narrow flight of stone steps, and into a basement kitchen. She glanced around curiously and was surprised to see Sirius Black, staring back at her, startled. He was sitting at a long wooden table with a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of him.
"Hermione!" he said. "My word, is it already that time?" He pulled a pocket watch from his robes and shook his head in dismay as he read the clockface.
"Hello, Mr. Black," she said politely, still utterly confused as to where she was and why she was there.
He grimaced and shook his head. "Sirius, please. I'm begging you. I'm neither my father nor a schoolboy anymore." At the last, he waggled his eyebrows at Professor McGonagall, who huffed and crossed her arms, though her mouth twitched in amusement.
"Now then, Mister Black," Professor McGonagall said with a smirk as Sirius made a disgusted face at the name. "Do you have a room sorted for Miss Granger?"
"Why yes, Minnie, dear. I do," he shot back in his smarmiest voice, folding the paper and placing it neatly on the table. Professor McGonagall muttered a particularly Scottish ach! in response to the pet name.
"Wait," Hermione interjected. "Am I staying here? I thought I was going to the Burrow. Are Harry and the Weasley's here? And what is the Order of the Phoenix?"
"Miss Granger," the professor said, "I apologize for all the secrecy. The Weasley's and Mr. Potter will be joining you here within a day or two, I believe…?" she glanced to Sirius who nodded in confirmation.
"The Weasley's should arrive tomorrow, and Harry will be here at the end of the week," Sirius said.
"Very good. As for the Order of the Phoenix, it is a secret society, hence the earlier need for discretion," she raised an eyebrow and Hermione blushed, "It is a resistance group opposed to You-Know-Who and his supporters. It was instituted in the seventies, during his first rise to power. Professor Dumbledore heads the order and reinstated it just after the Triwizard Tournament."
Hermione blinked. "Oh. Well, that's quite a good idea, I think. Especially considering the ministry…well…" she trailed off.
"Has their heads up their arses?" Sirius supplied with a dark smile.
"Well, yes," she shrugged apologetically. Professor McGonagall snorted.
Glancing down at her own watch, the professor frowned. "I'm afraid I need to be off. I have business elsewhere."
Hermione noticed Sirius' expression darkened briefly. Her professor reached into a pocket and pulled out a miniature trunk, passing it to Hermione after holding it up for Sirius to see. "I trust you can resize this for her?" she asked him.
"Certainly," Sirius nodded.
Hermione pocketed the trunk and set Crookshank's carrier on the ground, opening it. Her bandy-legged cat sauntered out, looked imperiously at the company present, then flicked his tail and strode out of the room. "Oi! I thought we were friends!" Sirius hollered after him.
Hermione chuckled and Professor McGonagall made a pfft sound in amusement before adjusting her traveling cloak and turning back to Hermione.
"Miss Granger, I know you expected to go to the Burrow, and I am sorry about the change in plans. However, I know you will be safe here at Headquarters." She placed a bony hand on Hermione's shoulder. "You are in good hands. I shall see you shortly, I imagine, at the next meeting." Hermione nodded and bade her professor farewell.
Once the older witch had left the room and her footsteps faded from the stairs, Hermione turned back to Sirius, suddenly feeling awkward. Though he was Harry's godfather, and she knew him to be a good wizard…she felt a little uncomfortable being cooped up alone with him in a spooky house. Especially since she had noticed the dark mood he was attempting to cover with false cheer.
"I'll just show you to your room then, shall I?" he said brightly, striding past her and back up the stairs. Hermione followed him then jumped slightly when he stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs. Before opening the door, he turned and looked down at her. "We must be very quiet in the entry hall, lest we wake one of the more…disagreeable portraits," he murmured, holding a finger to his lips.
Hermione nodded with a furrowed brow, beginning to understand now why Professor McGonagall had urged quiet earlier. It had not entirely been a rebuke before, but rather an instruction. She followed Sirius as they crept down the hall and up a flight of stairs. She stopped, horrified, as she saw a row of House Elf heads mounted on the wall. She covered her mouth and stared at their little faces, a tear rolling down her cheek. Sirius turned to see why she had fallen behind and cursed quietly as he took in her expression, casting a dark glance at the elf heads, before descending a few steps to meet her.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. My family…well, I think you know by now that I'm not like the rest of my family. They were all dark wizards and witches. And they, well – believe it or not, the elves thought this to be an honor, to be mounted upon their death…" Hermione choked. "Er, well. I did try to get rid of them before you came, but there's a permanent sticking charm on them…" He wrung his hands nervously, then reached forward and gently took her elbow. "Come along. Just do your best to ignore them for now," he said miserably as he guided her up to the second landing.
"Here we are, first door on the left." He swung open the door, holding it gallantly for her as she passed by him.
The room, like the rest of the house, was gloomy. It had a high ceiling and gas lamps placed in the corners. Sirius swept his wand around the room and the lamps sputtered to life. There were two twin beds on opposite sides of the room with plush duvets. A small vase with what appeared, at first glance, to be filled with wildflowers, upon closer inspection held something Hermione recognized from both her Herbology and Potions classes.
"Oh, the Moly flower!" she breathed, admiring the little white flowers with their black stems and leaves.
Sirius' smile seemed genuine in his relief at her distraction as he said, "I see you know your plants!"
"Yes! It can be eaten to counteract enchantments and is used in some healing potions, such as the Wiggenweld Potion!" she enthused. "In fact, both the Muggle stories of Sleeping Beauty and Snow White seem to have been inspired by application of the Wiggenweld potion. A wizard prince smeared the potion on his lips and kissed a princess who had been given the Draught of Living Death, waking her! And all thanks to this little flower!" She fingered the petals gently.
Sirius chuckled. "You really do know everything, don't you?" he teased. Hermione blushed. "These flowers grow in the garden out back. I suppose someone in my family at some point thought the Black family ought to have flowers with black stems and leaves. Even if it is a little on the nose." He shrugged.
"I can't imagine you growing up here," Hermione said. "It doesn't seem like…you."
"Yes, well. I hated it. As I said before, my family are all dark. This house suits them, not me." Clearly desperate to change the subject, Sirius held his hand out. "Here, hand me your trunk," he said, and Hermione dropped her tiny trunk in his palm. He placed it on the floor and tapped it with his wand. In an instant, her trunk was back to its normal size and Sirius guided it to rest at the foot of one of the beds. "I'm afraid you will have to share your room with one of the Weasley's. Who is Ron's sister?"
"Ginny."
"Right, Ginny. Will that be a problem?"
"No, not at all! Ginny and I get along very well."
"Good, good." He looked around the room awkwardly then pulled out his pocket watch again. "Dinner should be ready in a couple of hours. Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you." Hermione shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Erm, I suppose I can work on homework until then," she offered, trying to find a way to end the uncomfortable interaction.
Sirius barked a laugh and his eyes twinkled as he teased, "What? You haven't finished it already?"
"We-ell…I did finish it, but it doesn't hurt to have another look through," she confessed. "Besides, I haven't finished reading ahead in all of my classes yet." She smiled at his laughter.
"Ridiculous, you are," he said, fondly. "Alright then, I'll leave you to it. After dinner I'll show you to the library, if you like."
Hermione perked up and nodded vigorously. "Yes, please!" She heard Sirius chuckling to himself as he stepped out of her room and back to the stairs.
She looked around the room again then flopped onto the bed, staring up at the shadows flickering across the ceiling. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about the change of plans. The plan had been one of the adult Weasley's would collect her from home and take her to the Burrow where Harry would join them. This was the plan her parents knew about, as well. When Professor McGonagall showed up at their door explaining the Weasley's were unable to come but that she would be escorting her, Hermione hadn't been overly concerned. She trusted her Head of House. But then to be dropped off in a dark house, her only company an older wizard who clearly was unhappy…she felt…uncomfortable. Though her parents had no way of getting to this house, she still felt they should know where she was. It felt like a bait-and-switch. They would be furious if they knew she had been whisked away somewhere without their knowledge.
Hermione sighed. She was fifteen, almost sixteen, and certainly able to take care of herself. Besides, she reasoned, the Weasley's would be here tomorrow. She only had to get through one night on her own. With that thought, she got up and dug through her trunk, extricating her Charms textbook and reading chapters they hadn't reached last school year, presuming they would continue out of the same book this year.
She was engrossed in the history and application of the Fidelius Charm – having abandoned her original plan to simply read ahead and was now curiously researching the charm hiding the house she was currently residing in – when she was startled by a knock on her doorframe.
She gasped and scrambled to catch her book which she had nearly thrown by accident. Sirius was standing in the doorway, his knuckles still resting on the frame. A wide grin split his face and his eyes sparkled mischievously. "Well, that was just too easy," he said, chuckling. "Are you sure you're in Gryffindor?" he teased.
Hermione narrowed her eyes and mock-glared at him while smoothing the pages of her book and closing it carefully. "I'll have you know, Mister Black," she smirked at his grimace. "Courage is not the absence of fear, merely overcoming that fear." Sirius rolled his eyes. "The absence of fear," she continued in her bossiest tone, "is…stupidity." She smiled sweetly at him and batted her lashes.
Sirius scoffed. "If Lily had had a daughter…" he mumbled, just loud enough for her to catch. Louder, he said, "Dinner's ready…if you're feeling brave enough."
It was Hermione's turn to scoff. She set aside her book and followed him down to the kitchens, avoiding looking at the elf heads as they passed, though she noticed Sirius had walked down that section of the staircase directly next to her, blocking her view of them, which she thought was rather kind.
The meal was simple but tasty and Hermione found herself listening raptly to Sirius' description of his days at Hogwarts with his friends.
"Am I really like Harry's mum?" she asked at one point.
Sirius nodded thoughtfully and said, "Lily was brilliant. She had a quick mind and was one of the kindest souls I've ever met." Hermione flushed at the implied comparison. "She was constantly proving people with ideas of pureblood superiority wrong. How could she be top of most of her classes if she was a muggleborn and had, forgive me, dirty blood?" Hermione waved away the insult, knowing he didn't subscribe to that belief. "It used to drive the Slytherins mad!" his eyes twinkled in remembrance.
He turned to Hermione and regarded her with a sad smile. "Harry's told me you're brilliant and how much you helped him during that awful tournament. Thank you, by the way, for having his back."
"Always," she said. "I will always have his back, even when he doesn't want me to," she added, remembering when Sirius had sent Harry the Firebolt and Harry had been furious with her for telling Professor McGonagall about it.
"So…" Sirius wheedled, "are you and Harry…" he trailed off, raising his eyebrows.
"No!" she said, firmly. "He's like…he's like a brother. That's just…no."
Sirius guffawed. "Sorry!" he said, "I just wondered. James went for the smartest witch in our year. I was just curious if Harry was following in his footsteps."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No. But he does seem to fancy a Ravenclaw, now that you mention it."
"Oh, reeeally?"
"And that's all I have to say about that. You'll have to ask Harry about his own love life, thank you."
"Alright, alright. So your love life…?"
Hermione sputtered. "Absolutely not!" she said, indignantly.
"I certainly read some interesting things in the Prophet during the tournament…" he teased.
"Utter rubbish, and you know it!"
Sirius laughed and held his hands up in mock surrender. "If you'll allow me to blatantly change the subject – "
"Please, for the love of Merlin."
" – I believe I promised to show you the library," Sirius continued with a snort of amusement.
Hermione leapt to her feet. "Yes, please!"
Still chuckling, Sirius led her back up the stone steps and into the dreary entrance hall. Despite her eagerness to see the library, Hermione did not miss the wary side glances that Sirius cast the velvet curtains along the far wall. She supposed they must be covering the 'disagreeable portrait' he had mentioned earlier. She found herself fraught with morbid curiosity and looked long at the curtains as they tiptoed to another door. She noticed the curtains twitched but remained lying flat when the door Sirius opened creaked quietly. Sirius grimaced and darted a glance at the curtains, as well, before gesturing for her to precede him inside.
Hermione found herself in what had clearly once been quite a cozy library. There was a door to one side which led to a much larger drawing room, but she paid it little mind, focusing instead on the floor to ceiling bookshelves framing a fireplace and lining the walls. A threadbare rug lay in front of the fireplace with two armchairs angled toward each other over it. Cobwebs clung from a low-hanging chandelier. There was no room for wall sconces or gas lamps as the bookshelves took up all the available wall space. The room was also devoid of any windows. Sirius murmured "Incendio," and the fireplace sprang to life. He pointed his wand at the chandelier and light began to glow amongst the dusty, cobwebbed crystals.
"I was never much good at housekeeping spells," he explained. "And I'm told scourgify is not to be used on crystal." He gestured to the crystal chandelier. "But perhaps…Kreacher!" he called out the last word loudly, causing Hermione to jump.
An instant later, a grizzled old house elf appeared, bent and stooped with age, wearing nothing more than a loincloth. White hair stuck out from his ears and his eyes were bloodshot and watery. The elf bowed low saying, "Master called Kreacher?" Then, in an undertone, "Ungrateful master, broke my poor Mistress' heart. Letting blood traitors and werewolves into her home. What would Mistress say?"
"Stand up," Sirius said, coldly. Hermione shifted her weight, uncomfortable with the way he was speaking to the poor elf.
"Clean the chandelier, Kreacher. Remove all the cobwebs from this room and dust it."
Kreacher straightened as much as his crooked back allowed and said, "As Master wishes." Then muttered, "And now a new girl is here. Kreacher doesn't know her name or what she is doing here. Kreacher wonders if Master and the girl are –"
"That's enough!" Sirius spat, sharply and a little panicked. "This is Hermione. She will be staying with us for a while."
Kreacher fixed Hermione with a gimlet eye. "Hermione is an old name," he croaked. "Kreacher wonders which family young miss hails from."
"Erm, I'm – "
"It really is none of your business, Kreacher," Sirius interrupted. "You will treat her with respect, regardless."
Kreacher scowled and muttered. "Oh, Master evades. Miss is no miss. Master brings in strays and filth."
"Enough!" Sirius barked, again. "You will clean this room to my satisfaction. Now get to it." He guided Hermione out of the library and snapped the door shut behind them, which turned out to be a mistake as the velvet curtains in the hallway flung open and a portrait of a dour woman began screaming.
"YOU! Traitor! Disgrace of my flesh! Abomination! How dare you return! How dare you bring filth into my house!" The woman's eyes were rolling as she pointed at Sirius during her tirade. Her painted eyes swung to Hermione and she howled. "Shaaaame! Shame upon us! Filth! Scum! You've brought a Mudblood into my home! How dare you?!"
Sirius ran to the portrait and began wrestling the curtains closed while yelling over the painting, "Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!" Finally, with a massive wrench, he yanked the curtains closed and the screaming ceased. Hermione stared at him wide-eyed. Sirius leaned forward, hands rested on his knees as he panted.
From the closed room behind her, Hermione heard Kreacher wail, "Mudbloood! Kreacher knew it!" but he didn't dare leave the room while a direct order from Sirius had him cleaning.
Sirius looked apologetic. "I am so sorry, Hermione," he said ruefully. "My dear old mother put a permanent sticking charm on the back of her portrait so I can't remove it." He grimaced. "I told you my family was terrible. I'm sorry you had to hear that. That you were called that."
Hermione shook her head. "It's okay, Sirius. Really. It's not the first time I've been called a Mudblood and I sincerely doubt it will be the last."
Sirius winced. "You shouldn't be used to it," he said, darkly. "Come on, let's get out of here." He beckoned her to follow him back up the stairs, where he escorted her to her room. They exchanged awkward goodnights and Sirius left her to it.
Hermione pulled the door closed and readied herself for bed. Crawling under the covers with a cheap mystery novel, she drifted into a restless sleep, the book face-down on her chest halfway through a chapter.