Harry slouched on his basilisk couch, his feet up on the coffee table, keeping one eye on the anime playing on the screen and the other on the scribbled list in his hands. Without looking, he reached into a bowl of spicy crisps beside him and began to bring one to his mouth, only to wince at a caw next to his ear. Stupid bird.

He glared at Firo, who was perched on the backrest, then sighed and ceded the crisp. She gripped it in her talons and pecked at it enthusiastically, spattering crumbs all over the place.

Harry snorted and brushed off his T-shirt. Before, he might've gotten irritated, but now he had a house-elf who could clean up the mess at a snap of his fingers—although that would have to wait, because the aforementioned elf was a little preoccupied.

Dobby balanced on the edge of the couch, his bulbous eyes riveted to the screen, where purple-haired twins were cutting down swaths of emotionless, statue-like Lunarians. His spindly hands were clasped together, and his pointy ears quivered with every swing of the twins' sleek long swords.

Harry grinned in wry amusement. After hearing that St. Mungo's healers had ordered him to get plenty of rest and take it easy, Dobby had zealously catered to his every need, so he had done little more than vegetate during the past week. He was beginning to fear that having a house-elf spoil him would turn him into a hopeless slob.

Although, he reflected as he eyed Dobby's entranced expression, he wasn't sure who was the worse influence on whom.

He lazily reached for the remote and increased the volume to drown out the patter of rain against the windows, then reclined and contemplated his list. Dense columns of adjectives filled its left half, while the right had a handful of nouns. Some entries were written in a neat tidy script or large, loopy handwriting that contrasted with his own chicken-scratch; since his names failed to get Dobby's approval, he had asked Su and Tony for help.

"Ashen Tower," he muttered. "Behemoth's Spine. Sorcerous Shaft." Snorting, he cast Dobby a side-glance, but as expected, the elf did not react. He moved down the list. "Let's see... Floppy? Limp? Oh, very funny, guys."

He fumbled about for a pen and crossed out Su's and Tony's more ridiculous additions. The nib of the pen hovered over the word 'Crooked' before it was subjected to the same fate.

"Crooked Spire," he murmured just to hear how it sounded. "Meh, lame."

"Dobby is an elf of Crooked Spire," Dobby said absently.

Harry's head jerked toward him. "What did you just say?"

Dobby's gaze flicked to him, then back to the screen, where the amethyst twins had been turned into splinters. "Harry Potter sir has given the house a name. Already its magic is growing stronger!"

"What? No, no, no. I was just thinking out loud." He scowled. Crooked Spire? While technically accurate, it was far from the image he was going for. "Oi, are you listening? I call takesies-backsies."

Dobby reluctantly turned his way, but before he could reply, a faint knock echoed up the staircase, and his ears went rigid. "Someone's at the door, Harry Potter sir. Shall... shall Dobby see who it is?" His teary gaze kept flicking sideways to the screen.

Harry mulled it over. On one hand, he didn't fancy trudging down two floors—living in a tower had its downsides—and letting in the cold. On the other, Dobby looked so pitiful he might just cry if he didn't get to see what happened next right away.

"Nah, I'll get it." Harry wagged a finger at the elf. "We'll talk about the whole naming thing later."

He rose and shuffled to the staircase, chuckling at how Dobby's stuttered reply trailed off as he became absorbed in the show again. The knocking came once more when he descended to the first floor, light but insistent, and he frowned, wondering who could it be. Not Muggles, certainly—he recently put up wards that veiled the tower's true nature from them—and his friends would use the Floo. Perhaps it was a magical resident of Godric's Hollow, unable to contain their curiosity about their new neighbor. He had been meaning to show his face at the village's pub, but with the weather being what it was, he didn't fancy taking a single step outdoors.

Descending to the ground floor, he walked up to the door, undid the latch, and pulled it open with a groan of effort. A gust of frigid wind drove the rain into his face, and he shielded his face with a sleeve. Then he lowered his hand and stared.

Su stood on the doorstep, her hair whipping about in the wind, black strands sticking to her pale face. Rain fell unimpeded on her and trickled down her cheeks like tears. A worn, heavy trunk hovered beside her. Lightning struck not far away, turning her briefly into a dark silhouette, and the ensuing thunderclap made him flinch.

"Bloody hell! What happened, Su?" Pulling the door wide open, he ushered her inside.

"I don't want to talk about it," she murmured, not meeting his eyes. Stepping up to him, she grasped the front of his shirt and took a shuddering breath. "Could I... stay a while?"

"Of course," he said without hesitation. "Need a hand with..." Her trunk floated in at a wag of her finger. "Never mind."

He slammed the door shut, wiped the moisture off his forehead, and looked Su over with concern. Water dripped from the hem of her black robes and the tips of her hair, but oddly enough, her expression was far from miserable.

"Do you need a towel or..." He trailed off as she waved her wand and sighed in satisfaction when steam hissed from her drying robes. "Er, guess not."

"Please," she said, tilting her head to shake out her wet hair. Free from her usual ponytail, it hung to her shoulder in glimmering black tresses. "The spell's too harsh."

He offered her slippers to change into and led her to the ground floor bathroom, where he handed her a white fluffy towel. She patted her hair dry while he leaned in the doorway and peered at her searchingly. As though flustered by his attention, she buried her face in the towel. Her shoulders trembled slightly.

"Are you alright?" he asked with mounting confusion.

"Yes," she said into the towel. Lowering it, she sent him a sidelong glance. "I just needed to get away from my parents. They didn't take me quitting the Unspeakables well."

"Oh, Su." He put a hand on her shoulder. "They give you grief about it?"

She blinked. "No, they're inordinately worried. I'm tired of telling them I'm fine."

His brow furrowed. That sounded annoying but hardly merited the someone-died look she had worn when she arrived. Before he could voice his thoughts, however, Dobby appeared in the hallway with a soft pop.

"Dobby is finished watching pretty gems fight! Will the head-bashing twins be alright?" Dobby's eyes widened when he peeked around Harry's legs and into the bathroom. "Miss Su, you're shivering! Did you get caught in the rain? Dobby will brew hot tea right away!"

Harry glanced back in surprise; he hadn't seen her shiver at all.

She smiled. "I'd love that, Dobby."

"It is Dobby's pleasure! Please follow Dobby to the kitchen and tell Dobby how miss likes her tea." The elf turned around and froze when he spied Su's trunk in the entryway. "Miss Su brought luggage! Will miss be staying at Crooked Spire?"

"We're so not calling it that," Harry interjected, crossing his arms.

She bent at the waist to get closer to Dobby's eye level. "Would that be alright?"

"Of course!" Dobby cried, quivering with excitement. "Dobby will bring the luggage upstairs right after he makes tea!"

Harry pouted. The titch hadn't even looked at him for his input.

With a sparkle in her eye, Su stood on her tiptoes to peck Harry on the corner of his mouth and squeezed past him. He stared at her back as she walked off alongside Dobby. For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that he got played.

He splashed cold water onto his face in an attempt to clear his head, still somewhat foggy after the experimental potion, then dried himself off and ambled to the kitchen. Dobby was putting the kettle on, while Su leaned out of the window with her wand extended into the rain. She started a little at his arrival, then relaxed again and cast the Summoning Charm. Under his befuddled gaze, a lump of scorched glass glided out of the forest and into her hand.

She looked it over with passing curiosity as she shut the window. "Dobby, where's the bin?"

"Let Dobby get that for you, miss." At a snap of his fingers, the lump floated out of her hands.

Harry shook his head, feeling like he was missing something. "What, exactly, is that?"

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Lightning in a bottle. Padma got it for me as a souvenir from Venezuela."

"Looks spent..." The rusty gears of his mind whirred for several moments before he caught on and pointed his finger at her accusingly. "Oi! I nearly wet myself back there!"

She clamped a hand over her mouth and dissolved into giggles. His indignant glare only made her laugh harder.

"Sorry," she choked out, not sounding convincing at all. "Thought you would appreciate my entrance."

Crossing his arms, he admitted grudgingly, "It was dramatic as fuck."

She flashed a V-sign. "I practiced."

Despite himself, his lips twitched. He of all people respected the effort that went into creating a flashy entrance. "If you wanted to make me feel sorry for you, it bloody worked," he grumbled. "But you know you didn't need to go through that if you wanted to crash at my place, right?"

She nodded matter-of-factly. "That was just for fun."

"You sly vixen," he said, grinning. "I can't let this slide." He spread out his fingers and wiggled them.

Alarm crossed Su's face, and she took a step back. "Don't."

His grin widened as he advanced on her. He knew her weakness and would make her pay dearly for fooling him. She retreated until her back met the wall. Her eyes darted side to side, looking for an escape, and she lunged left, but he caught her by the waist and tickled her ribs.

She squealed and pressed her arms to her sides. "S-stop! I was going to—t-tell you later!"

"Toy with my feelings, will you?" Vanishing her robes into his malletspace, he attacked her sides through the thin fabric of her blouse.

She shrieked and squirmed, hitting his chest with her small fist. "M-make it up—"

"Oh yeah?" Halting the assault, he planted his palms against the wall on her either side. "And how are you going to do that?"

"I brought... costumes," she breathed, looking up at him with flushed cheeks.

"Costumes?" He stared at her with a mixture of suspicion and eagerness. "What kind?"

"The kind that would get me arrested in public," she delivered the killing blow.

"All is forgiven," he said solemnly. "Dobby! Treat her trunk with utmost care..." He blinked at the empty kitchen, the kettle whistling on the stove. For all his eagerness to be of service, Dobby knew when to give him privacy.

The next morning, Harry awoke to sun streaming through the bedroom windows. Rolling onto his side, he fumbled for his glasses on the bedside cabinet and slipped them on. He stared groggily at the empty half of the bed, then at the thick dark drapes that had been left wide open.

Slumping back on his pillow, he groaned. "Very subtle."

Well, he was wide awake now, so there was little to do but get up. Resolved to find Su and explain that the movements of the sun did not concern one such as him—that a free man had the right to sleep through the entire morning if he so chose—he swung his feet off the edge of the bed.

He shuffled into the luxurious bathroom, went through his morning ablutions, and marginally more awake, made his way downstairs. When he descended to the ground floor, an appetizing smell of frying rashers wafted to his nose, accompanied by a faint sizzling from the kitchen. Dobby must've started making breakfast the moment he got up. The titch was the best, his excessive devotion notwithstanding.

Yawning, he pushed the kitchen door open and strode inside. He made perhaps four steps before halting in his tracks. Dobby was nowhere in sight. Instead, Su was bustling around the stove in a frilly apron and absolutely nothing underneath.

"Good morning," she said over her shoulder, giving him a glimpse of her pink cheeks before they were obscured by the fall of her hair. "Hope you don't mind." She gestured at the stove with a spatula.

"Uh, no... I mean, yeah..." He swallowed. "I don't mind."

"Take a seat, it's almost done."

Eyes glued to her wiggling behind, he edged to the table. He stubbed his toe on a chair leg, winced, and fumbled for the backrest to draw it out. Su lifted the pan and deftly portioned out eggs and rashers onto two plates that already held sautéed greens and toast. Were it not for her outfit, the scene would have looked mundane and homey.

"You, ah, dressing light this morning?" he asked, failing to keep his tone as nonchalant as hers had been.

There was a glint in her eye when she glanced at him. "I'm trying to convince you to let me move in."

He opened his mouth, then closed it as alarm bells rang in his head. Sirius warned him about this! A myriad of mysterious jars and bottles cluttering the bathroom counter. Hair everywhere. Piles of cutesy decorative pillows on the couch. No more drinking from the carton—

A spatula clattered to the floor, breaking his train of thought.

"I'm so clumsy," Su deadpanned, and bent over to pick it up.

Harry sprang up. The food could wait.