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Goodnight Kreacher


Regulus couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his little bed in the Slytherin first year dormitory, trying to find a way to be comfortable. Everything seemed so different and weird here at Hogwarts - there were just so many people! He’d never been around such a lot of people in all his life - and he didn’t know hardly anybody. He sat up and put his arms ‘round his knees, looking about the dark room. There were no windows, so no moonlight, the only illumination in the room was a dark green glow that seemed to emanate from the corners of the rough hewn stone, probably magicked there to stop the complete darkness that would have otherwise swallowed them up in the dungeons. He rolled out of bed and shoved his feet into his slippers and snuck out of the room, descending the stairs to the common room.

The ceiling was everything he’d imagined - an almost aquarium sort of look to it, thick glass with thick brass accents, the glow of green lake water filtered moonlight… The giant squid lay in the curve of the glass when he looked up, sleeping. Little bubbles flowed up toward the surface. Regulus sat down on the couch and laid back against the arm of it, staring up at the squid.

He felt alone. He closed his eyes. “Kreacher,” he whispered.

CRACK.

Regulus sat up in surprise and found the old house elf standing on the coffee table, looking up at him with an adoring expression. “Kreacher is at Slytherin house,” he murmured, “Kreacher hasn’t been to Slytherin house in such a lot of years… Master Regulus has been sorted well.”

“Yes, I was,” Regulus agreed. He wouldn’t tell the elf how the hat had debated for so long. It was shameful, he thought, that the Sorting Hat had come so very close to putting him in Gryffindor - it had been on the tip of the hat’s tongue when the thunder crack had interrupted it and he’d used the moment to bellow at it NOT GRYFFINDOR, and the hat had obliged. But, even as he lay there in the Slytherin common room, he knew that the hat had truly wanted to chose Gryffindor.

“Kreacher’s Mistress will be most proud of Master Regulus for being sorted,” Kreacher murmured. “Kreacher will tell her in the morning.”

“Thanks Kreacher,” Regulus said.

“Is Kreacher’s Master enjoying his school?” Kreacher asked, climbing off the table and onto the couch beside Regulus. He put his little palms on Regulus’s knees and his ears moved in an excited manner, eager to hear about Regulus.

Regulus nodded, “Yeah, it’s alright. The feast was good, but not as great as the food you make back home.”

“Kreacher misses Master Regulus, too,” the elf said, reading between the lines.

Regulus sat up and held out his arms for Kreacher to give him a hug and the little elf crawled onto Regulus’s lap and put his spindley arms ‘round Regulus, who had thick tears pouring down his cheeks. “Master must not cry,” Kreacher said croakily, “It is not proper for Master to cry at such a place.”

“I just miss home,” Regulus said quietly. “I miss my bed and I miss Mother and I miss our gobstones and you.”

Kreacher patted Regulus’s back. “Kreacher is to be at Grimmauld Place when Master Regulus returns at Holiday, and Master’s gobstones will be waiting, set up to play already. Master Regulus shall win so many times!”

Regulus smiled at the thought of the gobstones set up and waiting. “I always win, Kreacher.”

“Master Regulus is such a lot better at gobstones than Kreacher is,” Kreacher answered, “And Master Regulus likes winning, and Kreacher is happy he can be playing at all with Master Regulus.”

Regulus rubbed his nose and pulled out of the hug that Kreacher had been giving him. “Can you spend the night, Kreacher? Just for tonight? I’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Kreacher must do anything Master Regulus commands of him,” he said, smiling.

“Kreacher, I command you to stay tonight,” Regulus said.

“Yes, Master Regulus.”

Regulus smiled at the elf. “So, how are things at home? Is Mother and Father alright?”

Kreacher nodded, “Oh yes, Mistress and Master are. They are most very good. Mistress and Master have asked Kreacher to make the house most spotless for they are to be playing host to the Dark Lord until the investigations at the Malfoy Manor are complete. Mistress is honored most highly and Kreacher is to be serving the Dark Lord while he stays.”

Regulus’s eyes widened, “The Dark Lord is staying at our house?” he gasped, a tremble of excitement running through him. “Wow. He can have my room!”

Kreacher shook his head, “Mistress has had Kreacher fix the parlor for his Lordship.”

“The Parlor?” Regulus wrinkled his nose, “The Dark Lord deserves better than the parlor! I would be a better host than Mother. I’d give him the best room in the house!”

“Kreacher is only doing as his Mistress has told him,” Kreacher replied.

Regulus thought for a moment, “And what about the letters? You’re still guarding those aren’t you? Keeping them safe?”

“Kreacher has guarded Master Regulus’s things most carefully. Kreacher will not touch with his hands because Master Sirius ordered him not to, but Master Regulus’s things are safe, Kreacher has made sure they are safe,” the elf answered, nodding.

“Good.” Regulus nodded, “They’re very important letters and it’s very important that Mother doesn’t get them until I am ready for her to.”

“Yes, Master Regulus,” nodded the elf, “Kreacher has kept them safe.”

Regulus took a deep breath that was sort of a yawn in disguise and leaned back and Kreacher climbed off the couch and went to stand by Regulus’s head so that he could see his face. “Master Regulus is tired,” he observed.

“Very, it’s been a long day,” Regulus answered.

“Master Regulus should sleep. He is having another long day in the morning, he will be wanting to explore the castle.”

Regulus nodded, “Yeah, but it’s Sunday, so I can have a bit of a lie-in.”

Kreacher reached for Regulus’s hand, “Master Regulus needs to sleep. Show Kreacher where your bed is?”

Regulus got up and led the elf up the stairs to the dormitory. He climbed into bed and the elf crawled up onto the duvet and looked about, his ears twitching as he took in the green glow in the rock and the high curtained bed frame. He drew the curtains, magicking a small ball of light that hovered in his palm. “Is Master most comfortable?”

“Yes,” Regulus murmured sleepily.

“Kreacher is very glad,” Kreacher said. “Goodnight, Master Regulus.”

“Goodnight, Kreacher.”

Regulus closed his eyes as the elf went to the foot of the bed and curled up into a little ball of leathery flesh, his big hairy ears sticking up. He stared up at Regulus with his lamp-like eyes until Regulus’s breathing had settled into the deep in and out of sleep, and then he blew out the little ball and fell asleep himself.




Sirius was awake, too, many floors above, sitting on his bed, his record player spinning as quietly as possible. The others were sleeping through it anyway, but he laid with his head next to it, the volume turned as low as possible, the sound of Steven Tyler’s voice shivering through him. He had his eyes closed for the lids were heavy and listened to the lyrics.

“Half my life is books, written pages
Live and learn from fools and from sages
You know it’s true, oh
All these feelings… come back to you
Sing with me, sing for the years
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears
Sing with me, just for today
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away…
Dream on, dream on, dream on…”

Sirius could feel the heat of tears beneath his eyes and he opened them up, sitting up and pulling the needle from the record. He looked out the window at the moonlight in the silence that filled the dark. He didn’t know why he felt so overwhelmingly sad. It wasn’t as though he’d really expected Regulus to end up in Gryffindor - wasn’t as though he’d truly thought there was any hope for a reconciliation between the brothers… had he?

Sirius glanced over at James, who was sprawled across his bed as though he’d been poured on, his arms spilling over the side, legs nearly too long for it, and because of how many pillows he’d crammed up at the top, his feet were hanging off at the end by his ankles. They’d both grown so much over the summer - it hadn’t been as obvious until he saw that - James’s gangly form only just fitting on his Hogwarts bed.

He got up and went closer to the window, looking down across the grounds, to the silhouette of the Bell Towers. He could see some students had left more flowers and things at the foot of each. So much pain, so many families and friends destroyed, and for what? For one old fool to believe himself a ruler? He hated Voldemort. Hated everything that he stood for. He turned away from the window and climbed back into bed.

Sirius laid back down and propped his head up with his arms. It was going to be a good year, he decided, however crummy he felt about Regulus, it wouldn’t matter. They were going to have a good term.