The Marauders: Year Two | #Wattys2016

The Family Dog

The Family Dog

It was afternoon, several days later, and Sirius-aka-Snuffles was still very much a dog. Charlus seemed to enjoy having him about - in fact, Sirius had never had so much bacon in all his life as what Charlus had been sneaking him beneath the table every morning, and he managed to hog up all of the space in James's bed or else to curl up around James's head on the pillow at night. But things started to look rather grim once he realized that every time he had to go to the bathroom, someone had to take him outside. And that was made worse when Charlus insisted on nipping out to a pet shop to get a collar and leash for the family dog. Sirius had been even further mortified by the gold dogbone charm hanging from the collar that read SNUFFLES. He missed sitting at a table and eating dinner and talking - boy did he miss talking! He had so many sarcastic comments he'd been forced to keep to himself that were just bursting to get out of him.

He laid across James's bed, bored, staring at the mirror on the nightstand, where he could see the sunlight breaking across his bedroom back at Grimmauld Place. He sighed heavily.

"Hey, Sirius," James said, putting down the quill he'd been using to write a paper for Slughorn's class. Sirius's eyes moved from the mirror to James without moving his head. "How about a bit of music?"

Sirius sat up. Music was always good. He wagged his tail a little bit.

James smiled and got up from his desk chair, reaching for a record. He slid the black disc out of it's sleeve, putting it down on the record player and laying the needle down. There was a pop - a crackle - as the needle moved into place... and then...

You ain't nothin' but a hound dog --
Cryin' all the time
You ain't nothin' but a hound dog --
You ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine!

Sirius looked at James with a doggy groan and used his paws to cover his eyes in disapproval.

James laughed, "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. It's not funny. Here, how about this one --" He took the record off with a shriek of the needle and replaced it with another. "Try this one on," he suggested.

Pop - Crackle -

So messed up I want you here
In y room I want you here
Now we're gonna be face-to-face
And I'll lay right here in my favorite place
And Now I wanna be your dog
I wanna be your dog
I wanna be your dog

Sirius raised his head and growled.

James laughed, "Alright, I'll stop. I'm sorry. Here. It's the Beatles for you, mate." James smirked to himself and dropped one of the sides of the White Album down.

Martha, my dear...
Though I spend my days in conversation, please
Remember me
Martha, my love
Don't forget me
Martha, my dear...

James let the song play out, though the way the big shaggy dog stared at him from across the room it was clear that he knew perfectly well the song was an ode to Paul McCartney's sheepdog. James grinned down at the parchment as he got back to work. "You know," he said, "If getting back to human form doesn't work out for you, I'm sure Martha's a really fine sheepdog."

This was one of the times Sirius wished he had his voice.

James hesitated in the hall outside the Potter's living room. Charlus was sitting in his chair, tinkering with the springs and doohickeys from inside his watch, which he'd taken apart just to fiddle with the bobbins and reels. James started to back away, but Sirius nudged him in the back with his head, pushing him into the room so that he stumbled. Charlus looked up. "James! Hey." He smiled widely as James inched across the room, followed by Snuffles. "Heyyy Shhhhhnuffles," Charlus said, reaching to pat the dog.