Hp: Hermione and Darkness

"Your—?"

"My dear old mum, yeah," said Sirius. "We've been trying to get her down for a month, but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again."

Hermione followed them down into the kitchen, her heart heavy as she watched Harry. He moved like a wounded animal, his shoulders hunched and eyes hollow. Her heart ached for him. She could see the pain etched into his features, making her want to wrap him in a protective hug. She was absolutely sure he was suffering from some sort of PTSD and severe depression. She knew to expect more blowups and lashing out and vowed to be as understanding as she could possibly muster.

The kitchen was a chaotic mix of chairs crammed around a long wooden table, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr Weasley and Bill huddled at the table's end, murmuring with their heads together.

Mrs Weasley cleared her throat, and Mr Weasley looked around, jumping to his feet. "Harry!" he said, hurrying forward to greet him and shaking his hand vigorously. "Good to see you!"

Bill was scrambling to roll up the lengths of parchment left on the table. Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron, both trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was on those scrolls nonchalantly.

"Journey all right, Harry?" Bill called, trying to gather up twelve scrolls at once. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then?"

"He tried," said Tonks, striding over to help Bill and immediately toppling a candle onto the last piece of parchment. "Oh no! Sorry—"

"Here, dear," said Mrs Weasley, sounding exasperated, and she repaired the parchment with a wave of her wand. In the flash of light caused by Mrs Weasley's charm, Hermione caught a glimpse of a building plan. She leaned in to look closer, but Mrs Weasley snatched the plan off the table and stuffed it into Bill's arms.

"This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings," she snapped before sweeping off towards an ancient dresser from which she started unloading dinner plates.

Bill took out his wand, muttered, "Evanesco!" and the scrolls vanished.

"Sit down, Harry," said Sirius. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

The dirty thief gave a grunting snore, then jerked awake. "Some'n say m'name?" Mundungus mumbled sleepily. "I 'gree with Sirius." He raised a very grubby hand in the air as though voting, his droopy, bloodshot eyes unfocused.

Ginny giggled, and Hermione noticed a soft look briefly draped over Harry's face at the sound.

"The meeting's over, Dung," said Sirius as they sat around him at the table. "Harry's arrived."

"Eh?" said Mundungus. "Blimey, so 'e 'as. Yeah ... you all right, 'Arry?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

Mundungus fumbled nervously in his pockets and pulled out a grimy black pipe. He stuck it in his mouth, ignited the end of it with his wand, and took a deep pull on it. Great billowing clouds of greenish smoke obscured him within seconds.

"Owe you a 'pology," grunted a voice from the middle of the smelly cloud.

"For the last time, Mundungus," called Mrs Weasley, "will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"

"Ah," said Mundungus. "Right. Sorry, Molly."

The cloud of smoke vanished as Mundungus stowed his pipe back in his pocket, but an acrid smell of burning socks lingered.

"And if you want dinner before midnight, I'll need a hand," Mrs Weasley said to the room at large. "No, you can stay where you are, Harry dear. You've had a long journey."

"What can I do, Molly?" said Tonks enthusiastically, bounding forward just as Hermione and Ginny went to get the cutlery.

"Er – no, it's all right, Tonks, you have a rest too. You've done enough today." Hermione smirked as she grabbed the knives out of the dresser. She could tell Mrs Weasley most certainly did not want any help from Tonks but was trying to be nice.

"No, no, I want to help!" said Tonks brightly, knocking over a chair as she hurried towards Hermione and Ginny near the dresser. Hermione got out of the way just in time; Tonks just barely missed falling into the fistful of knives Hermione had in her hand.

After Tonks sat back down, the kitchen came alive with magic. Mr and Mrs Weasley used their wands to cut food items and stir pots on the stove. Hermione and Ginny started putting all the plates out, letting Harry and Sirius catch up. Hermione could catch bits and pieces of the conversation, and she blinked in disbelief when she thought she heard Sirius say he would have welcomed a Dementor attack.

Once the table was set, Hermione and Ginny took their seats. Sirius was in the middle of recounting the extensive cleaning efforts.

"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation," said Sirius, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. "No one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist – hasn't cleaned anything in ages." Hermione scowled at Sirius's description of Kreacher. She felt a pang of sympathy for the elf, even if he was unpleasant.

"Sirius," said Mundungus, who had been minutely examining an empty goblet, "this solid silver, mate?"

"Yes," said Sirius. "Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."

"That'd come orf, though," muttered Mundungus, polishing it with his cuff. Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny. Mundungus had been trying to pinch all kinds of things to sell in whatever the black market was of the Wizarding World.

"Fred – George – NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Mrs Weasley shrieked.

....

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