Another prompt fic that is also (gasp!) a songfic and was inspired by my dog Wilson and my intense love for his eyebrows. The lyrics (in italics) are from "Lua" by Bright Eyes.

Behind the Ears

It's not something I would recommend
But it is one way to live

He gets this way, Remus tells me, when he's angry and depressed about something and refuses to listen anymore and he, Remus, is sick of trying to talk him out of it. There is a tiny note of desperation in Remus' voice I've never heard (and never thought I would hear) before.

"He's angry at me and I don't care why anymore," he had told me as he let me into Number 12, leading me down the stairs to the kitchen.

Sirius is sprawled out on his side in front of the fire like an immense black rug. He does look depressed, although that sort of thing is hard to tell with dogs, I suppose. His eyes are closed but every now and then he opens them (not bothering to lift up his head) and the firelight briefly flickers in those curiously bright eyes. Remus sits down at the kitchen table and begins to stare resolutely at the front page of the Daily Prophet.

I take in this scene rather slowly, quietly closing the kitchen door behind me and sitting down at the table. It's unusual for Sirius to not at least say hello to me when I come in and I've never seen Remus so troubled before. After a minute of this awful suffocating silence I tentatively ask Remus how long Sirius has been a dog.

"For the last two days," he says. "I can't get him to change back."

I stare at Sirius again. "Well, I guess dogs tend to look at bad situations in a better light, huh?"

"Not this one."

"It's the rain that gets him like this, I think." I get up and sit next to Sirius. "I'm a bit cold, d'you mind if I sit here?"

Sirius doesn't even open his eyes.

"Come on, Sirius, I know you're not asleep."

He still doesn't move but lets out a tiny growl from the bottom of his throat.

"Not talking, huh?"

"Of course he's not talking," says Remus. "He's a dog, what did you expect?"

I ignore him. "Sirius, please. I just—I just wanted to see you. To say hello."

Nothing I say has any effect on Sirius; Remus doesn't say anything either, but does deign to look up and give me a bit of an "I told you so" look. Finally I give up the coaxing and ask Remus for a section of the Prophet and eventually become rather engrossed in what I'm reading. Because it's a bit of an instinct for me if I'm sitting in front of a fire with a dog, I absentmindedly scratch Sirius behind the ears. Unconsciously and against his will, perhaps, Sirius lets out that grunt that big dogs make when they are contented and having their ears scratched. Remus hears it, looks up, and shakes his head.

"Dogs tend to be susceptible to this sort of thing," I tell Remus.

"Hmm."

Sirius finally moves, lifting his head up a few inches to look at me. I think he's raising his eyebrows at me, although that sort of thing is also hard to tell on a dog.

"You shouldn't let things get you so upset, Sirius," I say to him. "It's never as bad as you think it is, it can always be worse…."

And I'm not sure what the trouble was
That started all of this

That night, to my surprise, we do get Sirius to change back into a man, albeit a rather ill-tempered one. He tells me that scratching canines behind the ears is considered playing dirty.

"I'm an Auror; I do what's necessary," I tell him.

He grumbles and goes to the cupboard to find something to eat. Remus is still reading the paper. He looks up quickly and, while it's very small, I think he grins appreciatively at me. I feel as if I've won a small victory, though over what I don't know.

The reasons all have run away
But the feeling never did.