Mr Cargador insisted on Flooing over because he had my finished dress robes. He also liked the ideas for Kreacher's uniform but wanted to discuss it further. We met in the Drawing Room, which was still unfinished because I preferred to use the Snug next to it. The Drawing Room had been stripped bare and the floor varnished back to a bright golden oak and the walls were currently cream. I was yet to decide on the rest of it. The old Grand Piano remained, not that I could play it, it just seemed rather appropriate for the room and I wondered if Teddy might want to learn one day. The empty space turned out to be useful because Mr Cargador could lay out his rolls of black and white cloth and set his scissors to work.
'Somewhat colonial, Mr Potter, perhaps influenced by your travels,' Mr Cargador said regarding the ideas about the uniform, 'but I can see how the House-Elves would like a sarong. I've had several enquiries about appropriate wear but there are always some quandaries about what to do the bottom half... their feet, you see.'
I imagined pulling on trousers would be problematic.
'Some opt for tunics...' he said.
'Yeah, I suggested it. The sarong was Mr Kreacher's suggestion.'
'I understand. I imagine many might like to take your lead in this.'
'Mr Kreacher's lead,' I insisted.
'Yes, of course. I've brought some material samples I thought might be appropriate. The cream fine-woven wool for the sarong. Simple black wool cloth is most appropriate for a service waistcoat, no detail or colour, though you may add a small crest over the heart in gold thread, if you like and I can add a line detail to match on the sarong.'
'It sounds very impressive.'
'Your House-Elves will be representing the House of Potter, it is only appropriate that they are dressed accordingly.'
I smiled at Mr Cargador's ways. I imagined there was a book somewhere on all this etiquette of clothing and attire and he'd memorised the whole bloody thing, a bit like Hermione and her bloody A History of Hogwarts.
'Perhaps Mr Kreacher wouldn't mind joining us...'
Once more the tape measure came out and Kreacher submitted to the indignity of being measured, though Mr Cargador was the epitome of politeness and very gentle with the old House-Elf.
'Now, Mr Kreacher,' Mr Cargador said, once his scissors had cut several lengths of the cream material and the edges had been magically finished. 'The sarong should be wrapped across your waist, left side first, then right, then you must fold it back like so to make a pleat and then roll the top over three times to secure it. Would you like to practice?'
Kreacher looker at Mr Cargador witheringly but submitted.
I said firmly, 'you need to get it right, Mr Kreacher. You're representing the House of Potter now. And I expect your staff to be exacting in their personal presentation too.'
'Of course, Master Harry,' and he seemed happier that I had virtually demanded his compliance.
'I suggest, Mr Potter, two waistcoats and three sarongs each, in case they get dirty. Of course, one set can be saved for special occasions in the house or if you are hosting an important event. Have you had any thoughts about a crest?'
'The Potter's don't have a crest or coat of arms,' I admitted, afraid Mr Cargador might be disapproving. 'I must admit that the idea of a Phoenix amuses me.'
I'd seen a picture that I liked in a book on magical creatures so I summoned the book and showed Mr Cargador.
'Leave it with me, Mr Potter,' he said with a nod. 'Shall we try the waistcoat?'
The magic had been working almost unseen behind us and when Mr Cargador waved his wand, a virtually finished garment soared towards us. Kreacher flinched.
'Remember, Mr Kreacher, this belongs to me, I'm ordering you to wear it as part of your work for the House of Potter. I'm not gifting it to you.'
Kreacher bowed and slipped the waistcoat on. 'It is being very smart, Master Harry.'
'I'm glad you think so. Look, Mr Cargador has put in a special pocket-watch pocket. I'd like you, as the head of the staff to wear your locket on it's chain across the from the middle button to the pocket. It will show you're in charge.'
'Would you permit me to show you,' said Mr Cargador, kneeling down on one knee.
He very gently demonstrated the look and drew out a pocket mirror which he enlarged so Kreacher could see his reflection. I watched Kreacher stand a little bit straighter and tug on the bottom of his new waistcoat before turning back and forth. Then, to my horror, he burst into tears.
'Oh my god, Mr Kreacher, what is it?'
'Kreacher is never wearing such smart and important clothes before, Master Harry. Kreacher is very sorry but he is feeling overwhelmed by your kindness. Kreacher is feeling... he is feeling like... he belongs...' he wailed.
'There, there,' I patted the House-Elf gently on the shoulder. 'Yes, I think you belong at Grimmauld Place and that's never going to change.'
'You is being a most noble and generous master, Master Harry...'
'Would you like a few moments, Mr Kreacher?' I said, feeling unsure what to do in the situation of facing an emotional House-Elf.
'Thank you, Master Harry.'
'Perhaps, when you've gathered yourself, you could return the items so Mr Cargador can finish them properly.'
'Thank you, Master Harry.' And with that, Kreacher vanished away very quickly but I was sure I could hear him blowing his nose two storeys below us.
'I'll leave my tape measure, Mr Potter. Then it can measure the other House-Elves if they meet your approval and it will send the measurements directly to my cutting room. Now...' he said with a dramatic flourish. 'Your dress robes... would you care to go and put on a pair of dress trousers, a shirt and your boots?'
I rushed up to my bedroom and when I returned, Mr Cargador had produced five manikins out of his bottomless bag and they were displaying the two waistcoats, the two long coats, and my new navy suit that was more Muggle in style. I couldn't help smiling, especially when I flipped back the plain-black coat and saw the fancy green lining that matched the green waistcoat. And honestly, I nearly moaned aloud when I slipped on the tone-on-tone coat. It all felt exquisite, weighty, and very luxurious. As I looked in the long mirror that he'd conjured, I knew I looked as amazing as I felt. I almost couldn't help shaking my head at the change.
'Mr Potter, I hope you will permit me this, but I would like to make you a small gift, as a thank you for all you have done for Magical Kind and, of course, an appreciation of your custom.' He presented me with a small box and inside, on a black velvet cushion, sat the two, silver dragon-claw cufflinks. 'I don't think they could suit anyone better,' he said.
'I—I—,' I was literally speechless.
He carefully lifted the small box from my hand and fixed the cufflinks for me. 'The smaller side to the inside,' he said with a satisfied nod when I moved my arm so the cufflinks showed subtly.
'Thank you,' I said. 'It's all incredible. Not just the cufflinks but the tailoring.'
Mr Cargador bristled with pride.
'I'll make sure I mention your name, should anyone ask where I got my robes from. And I have little doubt that I'll be returning again.'
'Thank you, Mr Potter, that is most kind.' And with that, Mr Cargador packed up his things to take back to his shop and I went upstairs to hang up my precious clothes in my wardrobe. I admit, I felt a little ridiculous that I should have all this stuff, all this wealth, at only twenty and after such a neglected upbringing. I flung myself back on my bed chuckling to myself about the madness.
Then I sighed and supposed I should continue with my work in the library. I knew I was putting off the hard-hitting questions about what I was going to do with my life but I was kind of hoping something might just come along and offer me an opportunity or route I wanted to pursue.
Just as I heaved myself up with a sigh, there was a knock on the front door. Which was unusual. Very unusual. Considering the house was unplottable and heavily Warded. And these days, everyone who was considered a Secret Keeper or who was invited, only used the Floo.
Immediately I was on alert, wary about who it should be.
I moved silently to my bedroom window, my wand drawn, barely twitching the curtain to look down. I frowned. The sight of the person on the front steps confused me.
I charged down the stairs just as Kreacher was opening the door.
'Malfoy?' I said, the surprise radiating off every inch of my body.
'Potter,' he said, glancing me up and down languorously, but his expression schooled and unreadable.
He still looked typically elegant in his black suit with a black shirt and a lightweight grey scarf draped artfully around his neck despite it being summer. I wondered what my Mr Cargador would make of the aristocratic Draco Malfoy. I wondered if he already dressed the Malfoy family.
I was glad, for some reason, that I was wearing one of Mr Cargador's shirts and my new jeans, even if I was only in socks. I felt, momentarily, as if I was being appraised.
'Potter,' he repeated carefully. 'I was told Great-Aunt Walburga wanted to see my father. I've come in his place. I think father was feeling a little apprehensive about approaching you, you know? Besides, he doesn't know how to find the house...'
'But you do?' I said, slightly disturbed. 'How do you know where I live?' I ran a nervous hand through my hair.
'I've always known. Well, not always... since the end of sixth year. After...' his voice faded. 'After events on the Astronomy Tower. Severus gave me the address, he never said that it was yours. He just said I was only to use it if things got to such a dire point that I needed a safe house. He also warned me that it might be a case of jumping out of the fire into the frying pan. I guessed fairly quickly what that meant and well... I suppose I wasn't very sure about facing any members of the Order with my history so I just kept quiet and stuck it out. Things sort of worked out...' he shrugged.
'Oh...' I said. A surge of mixed emotions coursed through me, from relief that Snape had done that for Malfoy to the knowledge that Snape had so easily given away my address and how dangerous that could have been, from the knowledge that things were bad enough to Malfoy to possibly need an escape to admiration that he'd managed to survive—had chosen to survive under terrible conditions.
'You should probably change the Wards or renew the Unplottable aspects...' he said.
'I thought only a limited few knew. I guess you're right. I'll have to re-do the Fidelius Charm and decide on a new Secret Keeper. That's a bloody bore.'
'Mhem. Are you going to invite me in?'
'Oh, yeah. Come in?'
I stepped to one side as Malfoy shucked off his jacket and unwound his scarf. He looked between me and Mr Kreacher who was hovering awkwardly. Mr Kreacher was clearly not sure what to do.
I'm not sure any of us were sure what to do.
I reached out gracelessly in an unspoken offer to take the jacket at the same time as Malfoy reached forward to me so our hands collided.
'Sorry—'
Sorry...' we both mumbled.
He pulled his jacket and scarf back close against him and, for a moment, I thought Malfoy wasn't going to relinquish them.
'Shall I just—just hang them up there?' I suggested, indicating to the new coat hooks by the door.
'Oh, right, yes,' Malfoy said, looking as equally as baffled as I felt.
'It's alright, Mr Kreacher, I've got this,' I said, taking the jacket and hanging it up.
'Would Master Harry like me to switch his new kettle on?'
'Oh yes, thanks, good idea. Don't forget to put some water...'
Mr Kreacher had already snapped away.
***