The baker and the potion master

Chapter thirteen: docking the emotional crust

"Blood traitors! MUD BLOOD! IN MY HOUSE! GET OUT!" Mrs. Wallburga Black screeched into the silence of Grimmauld Place. "FILTHY MUDBLOOD IN MY HOUSE!"

Harry shot up from his chair in the library. His chair scraped hard on the floor, falling back with a thud. He had been scribbling in the baking book he had found most of the night, correcting things and writing love notes to Severus all over the margins. Quickly, Harry hid the book, not wanting anyone but Kreacher to see it. He tucked it into a drawer, locking it.

"Harry, mate? Where are you?" Ron called from down the hall.

"FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR!"

"Bloody hell, if you don't stop I will put my new ward that shuts portraits like you up on your ugly canvas, I swear to Merlin," Ron shouted at the portrait. His footsteps stomped up the stairs. "Harry?"

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed at him. "Harry might be sleeping. Maybe we should just go."

"He isn't with that bloody racket," Ron said. "Listen, we need to do this now before I leave to work on Snape's shop again. He said to be there at 10 AM sharp. It's 7:30 now. We have to do this now."

"Fine, but let's be a bit quieter." Hermione sighed. "Harry? Are you here?"

"In here, I'm in the library, Ron, 'Mione!" Harry called out. He hastily reapplied his glamour. After yesterday, he didn't want more questions than he knew they'd already ask. "Kreacher?"

The elderly elf popped into the room, bowing. A worried and disapproving frown crossed his face. He glanced at the clock, indicating that he knew Harry hadn't once gone to bed the prior night. He asked, "Master Harry. What can I's be getting for yous?"

"Tea for Ron and Hermione, please." Harry stretched, his back cracking. A soft hiss of pain tore from his throat. Sharp pain stabbed at his lower back as he stood. He rotated his head, feeling tension ease from his neck as it popped. Harry shouldn't have hunched over in one spot for so long. He yawned. "In here, if we can."

"Yes, Master Harry."

"There you are," Ron said. He entered the library, looking around. "Why are you in the library, mate?"

"I found some books for Hermione." Harry pointed to the pile at his elbow. "I know I haven't done it in a while. I thought I'd look through to see if any were interesting. There's so many more to go through. I could spend forever doing this and still not make it through them all, I swear."

"Oh, Harry." Hermione went straight to the books. She caressed the leather with a finger before picking one up to look at its cover. "These look like they're rare. What great finds."

"I wouldn't say that. Some of the spells in some of them are revolting. And the laws are worse." Harry shuddered. That law about House-Elves repulsed him. Just thinking about it made his blood boil. They were living creatures that deserved respect. Kreacher and Dobby were prime examples of why.

"Some of them might still be on the books."

"Then it's good that you found them. Maybe we can find out if they need to be repealed." Hermione paged through the book she held, carefully turning pages and scanning them with her eyes. She set it down atop the others. Hermoine turned a sympathetic face towards Harry. She said softly, "That's not why we're here, though, Harry."

Harry stiffened, his eyes darting between his two oldest and best friends. He hated the concern he saw on their faces. He wondered if Kreacher had disobeyed him, but as the elf returned with tea, he knew that was not the case. Kreacher had a tight frown on his face. He narrowed his eyes at them, stiffly putting the tea tray down onto the table. This was not how he usually treated Ron and Hermoine. Normally he treated them with due respect.