Peaches and Cream

Chapter 3 - First Night, First Goodbyes or In Which Harry Has the Best Night of His Life

The Hogwarts Express pulled into Platform 9 ¾ with a loud hiss of steam. The students disembarked noisily, as always.

Ah, the good old days, thought Sirius wistfully as he watched the commotion. He was beginning to grow uneasy. Why am I waiting here? I should be on the Muggle side, that's where all the other parents are waiting. Good going, Black, embarrass the kid your first day as a responsible adult, why don't you?

No good, it was too late to go back. Harry would no doubt have seen him by now, he'd panic if he got off the train and Sirius was gone.

The past two weeks had been murder. He'd tried to get Black Manor in order, which was no small task. The place had not been cleaned in literally years. Kreacher certainly hadn't been doing a very good job.

Sirius smiled as he remembered the discovery of the ancient house elf. It had been his first afternoon at the manor. Remus had come by to help him begin the clean up and make the place at least bearable.

Remus had heard a rattling in an upstairs bedroom as they were surveying the work to be done in the kitchen. They'd hurried upstairs, fearing Puffskeins at best and Acromantulas at worst.

When Kreacher had stepped out of the dusty armoire, Sirius had at first thought he was a boggart - he certainly looked like something from Sirius' worst nightmares. It was only after shooting several Riddikulus spells at the elf that Sirius was convinced otherwise.

His shock had quickly disappeared, however. He'd freed the elf that same afternoon, though he'd regretted it after seeing the layer of grime that had built up in the master bathroom over the years.

But now the house was finally clean.

It was also empty.

Or nearly so. Much of the furniture Sirius' mother had left behind was moldy and mildewed and not fit to live with. He and Remus had only left a table and four chairs in the basement kitchen, a sofa and a couple of armchairs in one of the drawing rooms and most of the light fixtures in the entire house. The house elf heads, the Black Family Tapestry, and Sirius' mother's portrait had been taken down and burned in the backyard.

Sirius planned to take Harry shopping that afternoon. Hopefully they'd be able to buy a few good mattresses before it got too late. Hope he's up for it.

He grinned broadly as Harry made his way over with a crowd of Weasleys and the two girls following behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked once he got close enough.

"Picking you up, what else?"

Harry shook his head, though he was still smiling. "I mean here. Why aren't you on the Muggle side?"

"Well, you see, this is as close to the train as I could get without actually standing on the tracks ..."

Harry flushed considerably. Sirius grinned.

"Score: me - one, you - zip," he said, issuing a challenge. "Now, I don't seem to know all your names," he addressed the group at large. "I've got - Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Darla - Dara, sorry, and Her- Her-something. And you must be the lovely Draco Malfoy I've heard so much about," he said to Harry. "Wait, that's two for me," he added as Harry's face grew redder.

Harry didn't mention that he was more embarrassed for Sirius's sake than his own. But no one else seemed to find his godfather odd - they all laughed. With him.

Hermione, Dara, and the Weasleys all introduced themselves, and then they walked through the barrier to join Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the Granger, and the Dursleys on the other side.

Dara watched Mrs. Weasley hug all her children - and even some that weren't hers - enthusiastically. Sirius said, "Your grandma used to be the same way. Used to drive James crazy."

He'd meant the words for Harry, of course, but Dara couldn't help overhearing. She hated this! Everybody seemed to have some obscure connection to Harry's past: Professor Lupin, Snape, Dumbledore, Hagrid - everyone! How many times had she heard that same old "You look like your dad, but you've got your mother's eyes" line?

And just how many people were around to tell her things about the past, about her mother, about the way her father used to be before he started drinking, about her grandmother, even? Anything.

But nooo, all anyone ever cared about was Harry -

Just then, Mrs. Weasley gathered her up into a tight hug.

"You'll come right home with us," she affirmed.

"No," Dara whispered back. "Thanks for the invitation, Mrs. Weasley, but I think I'll go with the Dursleys for awhile. I need some - downtime, you know?"

"Whatever you say, dear. Be sure to write if you need anything."

"I will."

"Wow, thanks for the owl, Sirius," said Ron. Hermione was peering closely at it.

"He's ... cute," she said slowly.

Cute was a bit of an overstatement, in Sirius' opinion. The owl, whom he'd discovered half-dead outside the Hogsmeade Owl Office and then nursed back to health, was very small. He also happened to have a face that looked like it had been smashed into a brick wall. Repeatedly.

"No problem," said Sirius. "I don't know how reliable he'll be, since he's so small, but I felt bad, it being my fault you don't have a pet rat anymore."

"Yeah," Ron said, "that whole thing was a bit scary. Honestly, who would ever imagine that their pet rat was really -"

"That's enough, Ron," Hermione cut in before he could say anything else.

"Speaking of rats," said Sirius, "last I heard, Hogwarts hadn't changed its rules about pets. 'Students may bring either an owl, a cat, or a toad,' right?"

"Well, as Scabbers was small, I could ..."

"Smuggle him in?" finished Sirius with a smirk. "You've got the makings of a fine Marauder."

Ron's ears glowed red as he flushed with pride.

Sirius turned his attention to the, erm, big-boned Muggle fight his way through the crowd towards them. He felt, rather than saw, Harry draw instinctively to his side. Ah. Vernon Dursley. Perfect.

He hadn't had an opportunity to talk to Remus about Harry's aunt and uncle yet, but he'd picked up on the general idea that Harry wasn't very fond of them. And that was enough for Sirius to dislike them as well.

"Ready to go?" asked Vernon gruffly.

Harry looked up at Sirius, an apologetic look on his face. He hasn't told his uncle yet. Even better.

"Well?" Vernon said impatiently. "Dudley and your aunt are waiting in the car. We've got to be home soon."

"I didn't know Great Humberto was still on at six," remarked Dara from behind them. Harry flashed a quick grin.

"Mr. Dursley, I presume," said Sirius, offering his hand. Vernon didn't take it.

Not that he was surprised. Sirius tried to picture himself through the other man's eyes. Twelve years in Azkaban and one on the run had left their mark on his body. His skin was even paler than the famous Malfoy complexion. His cheeks were shrunken, and he knew his eyes were ringed with set-in bags.

"Who wants to know?" Vernon asked testily.

Ignoring the question, Sirius continued. "Thank you very much for looking after Harry while I was ... indisposed ... but I'd like to take him home with me now."

"And just who are you?"

"His godfather."

Vernon stopped to consider the implications of this simple sentence. "Boy hasn't got one," he finally said tersely.

"Ah, and yet - here I am. Confuddling, isn't it?"

The man seemed at a loss for what to say. "Yes, well. You - Dara."

The girl turned. She'd been saying good bye to Ron and Hermione while Sirius had been greeting Vernon.

"You coming?"

She nodded, and then said, "Yeah. Yes, sir."

"Come on, then," he said. "Be seeing you -" to Sirius and Harry.

Sirius felt his eyes draw wide as he finally realized what Harry had meant to ask him that night at the Shrieking Shack. D'you think Dara could come with us too?

He would have said yes.

"Hold up a sec," she said, bending over and undoing the lock on her trunk. She pulled out a folded sheet of paper.

"Here," Dara said, pressing it into Harry's arms. "I'll ... be at Ron's in a few weeks, all right?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Look -" he lowered his voice so Sirius had to strain to hear him - "you don't owe them anything."

"Four years, Harry."

He sighed. "All right then. See you."

"Happy Holidays."

And she ran after Vernon Dursley, blonde hair bouncing in the wind.

Any visions Sirius had had of Godfather and Godson merrily skipping from store to store, happily purchasing furniture for their bare house had been dashed, trampled by wild hippogriffs, and thrown in the garbage by the time they finally returned home later that evening.

"Promise," Sirius managed to gasp out as they lay sprawled on the dusty couch in the otherwise empty drawing room, "that if I ever get a crazy idea like that again, you'll tie me up and lock me in the cellar before I can do any real damage."

"Probably wasn't such a good idea to drag my trunk along with us," Harry agreed.

"Probably wasn't a good idea to go shopping, either," Sirius said. "I should get married, then my wife could do the shopping for us. Women like that sort of thing, right?"

"Guess so," replied Harry. "Dara and Hermione don't, though."

"Bugger ... Are you hungry?"

"A bit."

"Good. Go make dinner."

Silence.

"Kidding. I'll make the food."

"Can you cook?"

"No."

Silence.

"Is there food? I can make dinner."

"No, don't do that. We'll firecall Remus."

"Professor Lupin?"

"One and the same. Only I think he'd prefer if you called him Remus now that school's out."

"But he's my teacher!"

"So?"

"So ... he can't cook us dinner."

"Don't be silly. I'll go firecall him."

Silence.

"Well?"

"I'm too tired."

"I'll do it, then."

"No, I'm the adult, I'll do it."

Silence.

"So go already."

"I'm working up the strength."

In the end, Sirius managed to drag himself across the floor and firecall Remus. The former professor stepped through the fireplace without even so much as an eye roll.

"Hello, Harry," he said, bypassing his friend who appeared to have passed out and addressing the boy who had taken over the entire couch in Sirius's absence. "Busy day?"

"Incredibly."

"Did you find everything you were looking for at the shops?"

"Well, there is a whole house to furnish," Harry replied, sitting up a little. "We got a couple mattresses and pillows, and Sirius bought us World Cup tickets. Top box!"

"Always the thinker, Sirius, aren't you?" Remus said sarcastically. "Buying Quidditch tickets before buying bath towels. And here I was, thinking you'd never grow up."

"Shut up, Remus," came the muffled reply. "I looked after myself for nearly four years before Azkaban."

"Yes, and as I recall, you spent most of those four years over at James's place."

Sirius groaned a bit. "I'm dead tired, the least you can do is cook us dinner."

"Is it really? Well, then, I'd better get cracking, haven't I? Come and help me, Harry?"

"Sure-"

"No he won't," Sirius retorted from his position on the floor. "He's not to lift a finger, you understand?"

"Oh, sweet Merlin, Sirius, look at that! The boy's breathing on his own! That's much too strenuous, wouldn't you agree?"

"Why don't you go-"

"I don't mind helping," Harry quickly interrupted. "I think cooking's kind of fun. It's sort of like Potions, only the results are safe to eat."

"And there's no Snape," Remus added.

"Exactly."

"There, you see -" Remus broke off as the fire in the fireplace turned violet. "Incoming firecall." He moved towards the fireplace and read the name that had been scrawled onto a bronze plate that was tacked to the bricks.

"There's a firecall from a certain 'Weasley', shall I tell him you're unavailable at the moment?"

"Ron!" Harry cried, jumping off the sofa at once and hurrying over to the fireplace. "What do I do to take his call?"

"Move that switch over to 'Open', Remus instructed as he moved to the doorway. "That opens the flue."

Harry did so, and Ron's head soon appeared in the vivid violet flames.

"That was weird," he said. "I've never had to wait to be let in before."

"It's a safety precaution," Sirius said from the floor. "Not many wizards use it, but my mum insisted on having it installed."

"It's not completely foolproof," said Remus, "but this way, you can monitor practically everyone who firecalls."

"What do you mean, it's not foolproof?" Harry asked.

"Well, someone could break into my house," Ron said sensibly, "and they could firecall and you'd let them in because you'd think it was me."

"Well spotted, Ron. We'll have to start password-protecting the fireplaces."

"Why?" asked Sirius. "My parents put enough spells and enchantments on the place to last several lifetimes."

Remus laughed. "We'll talk, Sirius. Come and help me with dinner."

Sirius whimpered, but allowed himself to be pulled up and led downstairs to the kitchen basement. "What was all that about?" he asked as Remus handed him a knife and a carrot.

"You do know why Harry was left with the Dursleys, don't you?"

"Because I screwed up?" Sirius muttered sullenly.

Remus shook his head. "Dumbledore made up his mind before you confronted Peter, remember?"

"Oh. Why, then?"

"Blood protection. Paddy, there's still Death Eaters at large, ones who managed to slip through our grasp! They'd stop at nothing to kill Harry and bring Voldemort back to power."

"And password-protecting the fireplaces is going to help?" he asked, puzzled as to how such a trivial measure could protect Harry.

"Of course." Remus filled a pot with water and set it on the stove. "Among other courses of action. Such as the blood protection."

"Will he be all right," Sirius asked, his face darkening, "without his aunt? If Dumbledore's sacrificed his safety for his happiness -"

"I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't do anything to put Harry in danger," Remus replied. "Now cut those carrots, and mind you don't make the pieces too big."

"Harry's right," Sirius mumbled. "It's Potions all over again."

Harry was finding it hard to talk to his friend - a very rare occurrence. Although perhaps not so rare, as he'd never spoken to Ron through a fire before.

Ron hesitantly searched around for something to say. "... Dad says he's probably got tickets to the Cup! Office connections, you know. You want to come with us?"

"Er," Harry began hesitantly. "Sirius got us tickets today."

"Oh," Ron said. "Well, that's okay. I'll see you there, then."

"Yeah," Harry said. "So ... anything new happen in the last ... four hours?"

"Mum drove everyone up a wall, fretting the whole way home. But that's it."

"What about?" Harry asked.

Ron's head frowned, and then he raised his eyebrows unconcernedly. "I dunno.

Harry smiled. "Right. Well ... I'll write you soon."

"Okay. Bye." Harry realized a moment too late that he could simply firecall Ron anytime he wanted. But he didn't say anything; owl post was the only way he was used to communicating and it felt ... wrong to talk to Ron any other way, especially when Hermione and Dara weren't connected to the Floo Network.

And Ron's head disappeared from the flickering flames.

Dinner actually wasn't as bad as Harry's expected. He asked where Remus had learned to cook like that.

"I worked as a short order cook at The Leaky Cauldron a couple years back," he explained. "I was there when Hagrid brought you in that first time."

"Why didn't you come out of the kitchen?" Harry asked. "I would have liked to meet you."

"I did come out," he said. "But everyone else was crowding around. I couldn't even get close enough to see you."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I'd rather have met you than Doris Crockford and Dedalus Diggle ..."

"Diggle's a good fellow," said Sirius, "though none too bright, from what I remember."

"No," Remus agreed, "he's not."

"Yeah, he was always botching Order jobs during The War ..."

"What war?" Harry asked curiously.

"When Voldemort came to power," Remus explained, assuming the 'teacher' role once again. "That was called The War. The whole time he was in power - what was it? '69 - '81?"

"'70 - '81," Sirius supplied.

"Right," Remus continued. "That was called The War."

"Oh," Harry said, running his finger along the edge of his plate. "I mean, I knew there was fighting, but I didn't realize it was a real war."

"Oh, it was a real war, all right," Sirius said darkly, setting down his goblet with a heavy clunk. "We had some pretty impressive battles."

"Were either of you ever hurt?"

"I got injured a fair few times," said Sirius. "Not Moony here, though."

Remus grimaced. "Voldemort had a nasty habit of doing battle on the full moons. There were many Death Eaters like me, and he felt he could ... use them to greater advantage if they were in wolf form."

Harry stared at his former teacher in shock. "But ... but that's horrible!"

"Voldemort used a lot of ..." Remus shuddered, "Dark Creatures to his advantage.

"Did they ... bite anyone?"

"They bit a lot of people, Harry," said Sirius. "Some were Death Eaters, but most of them were from our side."

"And then Voldemort would convince them that the Order didn't want them anymore. That he was the only one who supported them now."

"And they went over?"

"Some of them did," Remus said. Then he pushed his chair back and stood up. "Come, now. You don't want to think about that tonight. Why doesn't Harry help me clear the table, and then I'll bring out dessert."

"You made dessert too?" Harry said, gathering up his plate.

"Harry," Sirius warned in a mock-adult voice. "What have I said about cleaning?"

"Er..."

"You're not to do any of it," he said, rising to his feet and lifting the plate from Harry's hands. "Remus and I, old as we may be, are perfectly capable of cleaning a table on our own."

With that, Sirius turned right around and promptly tripped chair, and dropped the china plate he held as he and the chair fell to the ground with a loud THUMP.

Remus chuckled softly as he picked up utensils and made to drop them in the sink.

Harry grinned and slid onto the floor next to his godfather's head. "Capable, are you? I'm up one point!"

Sirius neglected to mention that he had embarrassed himself; Harry hadn't done the embarrassing.

Remus declined Sirius's offer to spend the night. Godfather and Godson were so exhausted that by eight thirty, both had decided to turn in.

"Which bedroom do you want?" Sirius asked, leading Harry up to the second floor. "There's five of them on this floor, and four on the third and fourth floors."

"Which one are you taking?" asked Harry.

"I'll take my old one, I guess," Sirius said, pointing to the bedroom nearest the bathroom.

Harry crossed the landing and peered into the room next door to Sirius's room. It was bare at the moment, but Sirius would see it got spruced up. And it was right next to Sirius.

"I guess this one looks all right," he said, looking up hopefully at his godfather. "Can I have it?"

Merlin, that had sounded like Dudley! How selfish can you get? Harry demanded of himself.

"Or ... anywhere's fine with me," he quickly amended. "I'd just as soon sleep on the couch downstairs."

Sirius shook his head disbelievingly. "Merlin, Harry, there's thirteen bedrooms in this place - you didn't think you'd have to sleep on the couch, did you?"

Harry shrugged.

"Course you can take that room," he said. "Now, go brush your teeth or wash behind your ears or eat your spinach or whatever it is I'm supposed to tell you, and go to bed."

"Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"The mattresses are downstairs."

Oh. Right. "Well, there's no way I'm moving them up here tonight, I'm beat."

"Can't you use magic?"

"Don't have a wand," Sirius explained. "Thought we'd go out to Diagon Alley tomorrow and buy one."

"So ..." Harry said uncertainly. "What do we do about tonight?"

Tonight. Er ... "Guess we're sleeping downstairs tonight," he said, grinning. "Like a campout. We can make stores -"

"- smores."

"Yeah, that, and do whatever it is muggles do when they camp out," he finished. "So tell me, what do muggles do on campouts?"

"How would I know?" he said. "I've never gone."

"Even better!" Sirius exclaimed. "Tonight seems to be the First Night!"

"Huh?"

"First night at the Manor, first time camping ..." he elaborated. "Come on, grab a blanket from the closet over there. Last one to the sitting room's got to wash the dishes tomorrow."

Harry pulled two blankets out of the closet Sirius had pointed out. "But you said -"

"GO!"

Taken by surprise, Harry only came to his senses when Sirius was already halfway down the stairs. He took off after his godfather, and the two of them tore up the first floor hallway and collapsed onto their respective mattresses.

"Who won?" Harry asked, gasping for breath.

"Tie," said Sirius, though he knew he had beaten the boy by several seconds. "And I hereby declare that all ties shall be settled by yours truly. I'll do the dishes. But," he continued, "you have to eat everything on your plate."

"Wha-"

"Oh, come on, I saw the way you picked at your food tonight," Sirius reprimanded lightly. "That's the deal."

"All right, all right."

"Good," said Sirius.

Harry dug through his trunk and pulled out a pair of pajamas. He left the room, presumably to change in the bathroom next door.

Sirius turned down the kerosene lamp, then sank down onto his mattress, a grin slowly spreading over his face. Having Harry living with his was turning out to be everything he had dreamed of all those years in Azkaban.

Well, okay, the Harry in his daydreams was a bit looser, a bit quicker to crack a joke.

He's just nervous, Sirius reassured himself. Who wouldn't be?

Harry returned a minute later, dressed in an extra large sweatshirt and an old, faded pair of striped pajama pants. He dropped onto his own mattress and pulled the blanket up.

"'Night, Sirius."

"'Night, Harry." He could feel the next welling up in his mouth, could hear them tumbling off his tongue .................. "Love you."

There was silence for a moment, then -

"You too."

Sirius grin grew wider as he lay back. Yes, this was going to be perfect.

Harry snuggled deeper into his blanket. It smelled musty and made his nose twitch, but he couldn't remember ever feeling happier - not even on his first night at Hogwarts.

He'd been scared then too. Terrified. Ever since Dara'd moved in with the Dursleys, she'd always slept relatively near him -right down the hall from his cupboard, and later on, they'd been delighted to find out that Harry's bedroom was right above the laundry room where Dara slept. They'd spent three weeks learning Morse Code out of school library books and had had a great time driving the Dursleys crazy by tapping messages to one another.

Their first night at Hogwarts, after the Welcome Feast, they'd shared a moment of panic as they'd been directed up separate staircases. Harry's four poster was the softest bed he'd ever slept in his whole life, but he'd still been terrified.

Thinking of Dara reminded him of the piece of paper she'd shoved in his arms earlier that day.

Harry rolled out of "bed", careful not to disturb Sirius, and crept across the room to where his trunk stood. He lifted the lid and found the paper right away.

Harry crawled over to the fireplace, where the last few embers were still clinging to life. He unfolded the paper and glanced at it in the dull light.

Unwanted tears blurred his vision as he remembered what he'd told Dara just yesterday. "I'd always wanted to turn Dudley's hair green ... Will you do it for me?"

And then he saw the drawing Dara had done for him - a comical drawing done in colored pencil, her preferred instrument, of Dudley Dursley gaping wide-eyed into the hall mirror, his hair a hideous bright green.