Rowan Lane was almost totally obscured by the gently falling snow as Harry approached the steps of Number Seven. It was the first heavy snowfall of the winter in London, and the soft white flakes swirling in the air felt like a good omen. Harry nodded to an elderly Muggle lady reading a book in the front window of Number Five, and she clutched her blue shawl closer around her shoulders and smiled at him. Across the street, Harry could just barely make out the silhouette of Dionysius Pinot, another Ministry of Magic employee. As Harry raised a hand to greet him, he called out, –Welcome to the neighborhood!†before disappearing inside Number Eight in a swirl of snow.
Harry walked up the front steps of Number Seven Rowan Lane, and stood a moment with the snow blowing over his shoulders and his hand resting on the red front door, gazing at the lion’s head brass knocker. Those are my front steps, this is my door, he thought to himself, as though trying the notion on for size. This is my home. Harry thought about the places that had felt like home to him over the years, and the places that hadn’t. My home, my own place. Mine, and maybe someone else’s as well. Too leery of that last thought to let it sit too long, Harry tapped his wand on the door handle, pushed open the red door and walked into his just-purchased new house.
* * * * *
A week earlier, Harry had been shown this house by a compact, efficient little Muggle realtor. After walking with her through all the rooms and having all the amenities of Number Seven Rowan Lane called to his attention - "It's an ideal size for a single gentleman, Mr. Potter, or for a young family. Is there perhaps a young lady who needs to see it as well?" - Harry had followed her out onto these very same front steps, through this same red door with the lion's head knocker. She had looked up at him appraisingly as he walked out the door to join her.
With a sweep of her arm she indicated the houses up and down the street. "This is a nice quiet street. A few families with younger children, a few elderly couples, a couple of singles like you. It's a lovely neighborhood."
Harry looked around the street as she invited him, noticing the neatly kept front gardens, the child's bicycle leaned up by the front steps of Number Four, the three matching birdbaths in the garden of Number Ten. He turned back to the realtor and smiled in agreement.
She had seemed to sense that it was time for the question. "Well, Mr, Potter, shall I prepare an offer of purchase?"
* * * * *
Harry turned in a slow circle, just letting the colors and sounds and smells of his new kitchen sink in. He smiled slightly, then took a deep breath and said loudly, –Kreacher? Please come when you can.â€
He thought the words, my kitchen, and then deliberately thought them again. Mine. My house. My home.
Harry began to peek inside the cabinets around the kitchen walls. After only a few seconds, there was a loud crack in Harry’s new kitchen, and Kreacher was asking, –Master Harry? You called?â€
–Yes, Kreacher, I did. Were you right in the middle of something?†Harry asked.
–No, Master Harry, the students have just left for their Christmas holidays and Hogwarts is quiet. Kreacher was merely sweeping the Great Hall.â€
–Excellent.†Harry swung a chair away from the kitchen table and sat down facing the elf. –I have a question for you, and then an order.â€
–Yes, Master Harry?â€
–Well, Kreacher, I’ve just bought this house. I’m moving in here, and…†He trailed off somewhat uncertainly and completely failed to notice a twinkle in Kreacher’s eye.
"Has Miss Ginny seen the house yet, Master Harry?"
Slightly wrong-footed by this, Harry asked, "Ginny? No, er… no, not yet, but…" He took a deep breath, wondering how it would sound out loud. –But I am planning to ask her to marry me and move here with me.â€
Kreacher’s eyes continued to twinkle. –Kreacher was wondering when Master Harry might be doing that.â€
Harry laughed out loud, startled. –You were? Oh. Oh, well, either way, I wanted to ask you what you want to do now.â€
At this, Kreacher looked puzzled. –Kreacher doesn’t understand, Master.â€
Harry leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, so that his face was on the same level as Kreacher’s. –Here are your options, Kreacher. First, you can stay at Hogwarts. Second, you can come here and work for me, and hopefully for Ginny as well. Or, third, if there is another wizard family you might wish to work for, I will find out for you if that’s possible. Oh, and I’m sorry that my living at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place isn’t an option. I realize that’s your home, but I don’t think I could bear to live there, for a number of reasons.â€
Harry took another deep breath and said, –And Kreacher, there is a fourth option I want to offer you. I’m not sure I should, because I’m afraid that you'll take it as an insult, or worse, as a criticism. But, since it’s the option I’d want if I were in your place, I can’t in good conscience not offer it…â€
Kreacher stood as tall as his small wizened frame allowed. –Kreacher thinks Master Harry intends to offer Kreacher freedom?â€
Harry nodded slowly.
–Kreacher understands that Master has Kreacher’s best interests in mind.†Harry let out the breath he’d been holding. –Kreacher doesn’t want to be free, he wants to work wherever Master wants him.â€
Harry sat back abruptly and held his palms out towards the elf. –Wait, wait, this is where the order comes in, Kreacher. Here it is: I want you to decide what you want to do; you, for yourself. Do you understand?†Kreacher nodded slowly, and Harry continued, –Take as much time as you need, then you can come here and let me know what you’ve decided. Okay?†Harry gave the elf an encouraging smile, and stood up from the chair, intent on getting his bag and trunk from the living room and taking them upstairs to the bedroom, and half listening for the loud crack that would indicate that Kreacher had returned to Hogwarts. Not hearing it, he turned back to where Kreacher was still standing by the kitchen table. The elf was gazing at the floor and twisting the edge of the Hogwarts tea towel he wore, but when Harry leaned back into the kitchen, Kreacher looked up at him.
–Kreacher’s made his decision, Master Harry.â€
Harry raised his eyebrows. –Already?â€
–Kreacher wants to come and work here, at Seven Rowan Lane, for Master Harry. Kreacher wants to work for Miss Ginny too, if Miss Ginny wants that.â€
–You sound pretty sure Ginny'll be coming here.â€
–Why wouldn’t she, Master Harry? From what Kreacher hears, all Master Harry has to do is ask her.â€
Harry laughed a little sheepishly. –I'm not going to ask; I have an idea the range of what you hear. I'm going to ask her, anyway, we'll see. Are you sure about this, Kreacher?â€
Again the house-elf stretched up to his full height. –Kreacher is sure. He wants to be with Master Harry and Master’s family. Wherever Master is, that’s Kreacher’s home.â€
Harry felt a warmth begin in his chest and spread out through his body, as though he’d swallowed a large gulp of hot butterbeer. He had several questions he planned to ask in the days ahead, and this one had gone far better than he could have hoped for. He went down on one knee in front of the elf. –Well then, welcome home, Kreacher.â€
Before the Epilogue: Questions by ebtreadway
Story Notes:
Historian's Note: This fic takes place some four and a half years after the end of Deathly Hallows, and is based upon canon and JKR's sometimes conflicting public statements about the lives of our heroes before we see them again in the Epilogue.