The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix - Part One

XI: 2 September, 1993

"They says he's dangerous, that Sirius Black character. Says he done in over a dozen people back 'round about twelve years ago." The man speaking was a bar tender with a big round belly. He pushed a stein of beer to a second man, who sat on a bar stool in the musty tavern. "Say he's armed, too."

The man with the beer shook his head, lifting the stein up, "Bullocks," he said boldly. "Look'it 'im! Ain't but skin and bones. He ain't nothin' to be so worried about like them policemen are sayin'."

"They say he's a madman," the bar tender shrugged. "And armed to the teeth. He ain't much to look at but I'm waging he's more'n he looks!"

"He better be!" The man raised his beer in a cheers, "Christ knows he don't look like much!" He brought his stein to his mouth to take a swallow and just as he tipped the glass, a loud bark sounded, echoing from the kitchen, and he promptly spilled his drink down the front of him.

The bar tender swore and bolted for the swinging doors that led out to the kitchen.

A shaggy, dirty black mutt of a dog stood in the half open doorway that led out to the back alley. The kitchen was steaming hot and the open door allowed in a breath of fresh air - as well as the dog in question. The dog's tail was wagging wildly, and he stared up in anticipation at a large chunk of fatty meat the chef was holding up. The dog and the chef both froze to look at the bar tender as he entered the room.

"What the devil is going on?"

The chef hesitated, then pointed at the dog. "He was hungry."

As if to agree, the dog barked.

The bartender's face turned an angry red. He started sputtering words that sounded like health inspector and waving his arms, shooing the dog out the door. The dog looked desperately back at the chef, who scrambled to toss the chunk of meat out the door just as the bar tender slammed it shut.

The dog stared at the door a moment, contemplating if he felt guilty the kind muggle chef was about to get in trouble with his loud muggle boss. Nah, he decided, and he merrily collected his chunk of meat and carried it off, hurrying through the small village and up the road. Ignoring muggles trying to gain his attention along the road, he picked up his pace and crossed the street, ran between two raggedly poor houses, and into the woods beyond.

The woods were dark and damp from a downpour of rainfall that morning, and the ground was a mush of leaves and mud. The dog had to move carefully over it, navigating his way deeper and deeper into the trees until he was well enough hidden and he was certain no muggle would happen his path. He was fairly certain that his face had appeared on muggle telly enough times in the past month that even small children would recognize him in his human form...

It took some searching but he finally found a small hovel of a hollow, with an empty stream bed that ran below a fallen tree that could act as at least a partial shelter. He carefully dropped the chunk of meat onto a rock, and, looking around, transformed into Sirius Black.

Still clad in the striped rags from Azkaban, Sirius was filthy and even more bedraggled than ever. He cringed as his spine realigned into his human stature and groaned as he stretched, then stumbled, unused to his human legs. "Merlin's nutsack," he muttered, lowering himself carefully down to sit on the trunk of the fallen tree. His voice was raw, low, unused. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the silence of the woods, then turned his torso, cracking his back and neck with a loud grunt.

He carefully drew his wand from the folds of his prison wear and looked it over. It was some kind of miracle that they hadn't snapped it, really, and even more of one that he had managed to get it without the dementors sucking out his soul. He smirked to himself, proud of his cleverness, and muttered, "Good one, Padfoot." He paused, grinned, and answered himself, "Why thank you, I must say it was quite a feat." Turned his head as though the nod indicated a switch between speakers. "Oh indeed, indeed... If I told you the tale, dear Sirius, I do say you'd think I were barking mad... Au contraire, Padfood, I would merely think you to be Maltese-ing me... I shitzu not! It was a doggone good job, it was!" I canine believe I pulled it off. He suddenly stopped talking, shaking his head, as though realizing he was talking to himself for the first time. Silence fell back over the trees.

Sirius lit a small campfire, using sticks leaves to burn as kindling and watched as the meat cooked slowly over it on a spit he fashioned. The evening became quieter and quieter as the creatures of the woods stopped chattering and the leaves seemed to settle and sigh themselves into the night's rest. Sirius shivered slightly, a chill catching him, and he wished he had a blanket. Of course, he could transform and become a dog with loads of fur and be his own blanket, but -- it had been such a long time that he'd spent nearly everyday as a dog that he had nearly forgotten what it was like being human. Twelve years of largely canine existence had him savoring the way it felt to stretch hie human legs and to lay on his back and use his voice.

It starts as a soft hum, just a few bars to entertain himself. But that felt so good that soon he was whispering lyrics under his breath, and then his voice was climbing... louder, louder...

"Ooooh love, oooooh loveeerrrr boooooy - what're you doin' tonight, hey boy! Write my letter - feel much better - use my fancy patter on the telephone!" Sirius clapped his palms against his knees, grinning as he sang, "Wheeeeen I'mmm not wiiiith yooou, I think of you allllways - I miss those long hot summer nights, I miss you, miss you... When I'm not wiiith you, think of me allllways - love you, love you..."

He paused, staring at the trees looming overhead. How many times had he laid on the ground in the woods like this? How many times had the silence of the night been something to cherish, not to be broken, but happily spent laying in a knot of fur with Remus Lupin? Or not even as dogs, but in flesh, skin to skin, two heart beats keeping time with one another... the sound of the sweetest nothings and the dirtiest somethings being whispered on their breaths, entangled... close...

A flash of the expression of shock and horror on Remus's face in the dark of Godric's Hollow swam before Sirius's thoughts and he shuddered back to the present with a start. He swallowed back the emotion trying to overwhelm him, and turned his spit over, inspecting the meat, wishing it would cook faster so he could eat and fall asleep. Sleep was a reprieve, a promise of silence of mind... But there was still some time to cook.

Sirius leaned back again, and silence fell again.

Until -

"HEEEYYY BOY WHERE DO YOU GET IT FROM? Heyyyy boy where did you go? I learned my passion at the good old fashioned schOOOOL OF LOVERBOYYYYYS!"