Summary: It was a habit he had picked up from his mother...
Rating: PG
Pairings: Sirius Black/Oliver Wood [Dogwood!
Warnings: If you squint and tilt your head 43.7 to the left you might see some Beast. Might.
A/N: For Vivi, for Christmas, since she drew me that lovely picture of Padfoot. Vivi, darling, don't ever share your dreams with me again. This PlotBunny was horrible to me. Much Love! 3 This is something I've never even thought of before she had her crazy dream, so feedback would be appreciated, as I'd like to know how it turned out. It was much longer than I expected, but ah well. Happy Holidays! And all that rot. nervously puts out her new creation for the public eye Enjoy smirks
A Boy And His Dog
It was a habit he had picked up from his mother. Whenever he had something to think about, something frustrating him, some problem in some class or in his personal life, he would talk to himself.
That he was better at doing this while on the pitch or on a broom was inconsequential. Oliver would still talk to himself.
Of course, this would always lead to some staring on his dorm mates, or team mates, parts, which was why he found himself, every night after dinner, on the pitch flying around, tossing a Quaffle from one of the pitch to the other and racing to catch it.
Sometimes he would just do figure eights, low enough so that his feet skimmed the grass as he vented his frustrations to the silent air.
That was how he found him, some time in the middle of October. The great black dog didn't show himself, preferring instead to watch the boy, out of curiosity, boredom, which ever. When Oliver finally stopped talking, he hovered on his broom for a few silent moments, breathing deeply, before slipping off and heading back inside. The dog waited until the boy was out of sight before turning and trotting towards the Whomping Willow.
--
It was early November before Oliver finally realized he had a guest. Perhaps a week after Sirius Black's attack on Hogwarts. With the attack combined with the horrid defeat the day before, Oliver was not in the happiest mood when he noticed the dog.
"Hey there! What are you doing here?" he shouted at it, swooping down on his broom towards the shaggy mass. The dog didn't run, merely sat up and stared at him intently. Oliver dismounted the broom and stood a few feet away from him.
"Dogs aren't allowed on school grounds, just cats, rats, and owls. Are you from Hogsmeade, boy?" he asked, seemingly haven forgotten in his distressed state that dogs could not, in fact, talk back. The dog whuffed at him, in either the affirmative or denial, Oliver couldn't be sure. The catcher sighed and waved his arms at him.
"Well go on, get out of here. I won't have you tearing up our pitch while trying to bury your bones," he stated, a bit louder. The dog just continued to stare at him quietly before finally standing, turning, and trotting off towards the Forbidden Forest. Oliver rubbed his arm wearily and stared after it before picking up his broom and heading back to the castle, for once in his life not in the mood to fly.
The next day the dog was back, in the same place as before. Oliver ignored it as well as he could, until the Quaffle landed next to the dog. Slowing down on his broom, Oliver started towards it, not wanting to startle a potentially rabid animal. The dog glanced at the ball, glanced at Oliver, and then back at the ball. For a moment Oliver could've sworn it grinned, before it picked up the ball in its teeth and dashed towards the other end of the pitch.
Swearing, Oliver raced towards the ground, turning his broom and chasing after the dog and the Quaffle like a seeker.
"Give that back you mangy mutt!" he shouted, quickly catching up with the dog and dismounting his broom hastily to wrestle the Quaffle away. After a few moments both man and dog lay on the ground panting, the Quaffle between them, grasped in Oliver's hands. The dog whuffed again, jumping up and licking the boy's face before trotting off the pitch and to the Forbidden Forest. Wiping his face in disgust, Oliver stood, picked up his broom, and headed back to the Castle.
And so it continued on till December. Oliver would go out on the Quidditch pitch and fly around. Sometimes he would go high above and float around for a few minutes before coming back down. Every time he always made sure he was within ear shot of the dog when he talked. It was nice, comforting, to know some one, some thing, cared enough to listen to some of his most inane rambles. And that's exactly what they were. One day he would worry over his future and how strange it would be to be out of school, and the next he would bemoan the loss of Harry Potter's Nimbus and how it would be amazing if he got a new broom—like the Firebolt—for Christmas some how so they could flatten Slytherin next term.
Finally the Christmas break came up. The day before the Hogwarts Express showed up, Oliver walked out on to the pitch at the normal time and straight to where the dog usually sat. The dog sat up and stared at him as the boy flopped next to him on the cold ground.
"I'm leaving for home tomorrow, Dog," he said. The dog stared at him quietly as he stared into the sky.
"I'll be gone for a few weeks. I hope you have some where warm to stay, with lots of food. I won't be held responsible for your death if you're too dumb of a brute to take care of yourself, Dog," he stated. The dog rolled it's eyes and laid down, resting it's head on Oliver's leg. Oliver glanced at it and shook his leg a bit.
"You do have a home, don't you Dog?" The dog whuffed and Oliver sighed, letting his head hit the ground.
"I've really got to find a better name for you." The dog made a sound in what sounded like agreement before picking up his head and burying his nose into Oliver's side, snuffling around trying to get into his pocket. Oliver laughed and pushed him away.
"Hey! That tickles!" he yelped. The dog looked up and glared at him before going back to snuffling his pocket.
"Listen Snuffles, if you don't stop it, I'll never show you what I've got hiding in there!" The dog lifted his head again, raising an eyebrow (did dogs have eyebrows?), before returning it's attention to Oliver's pocket.
"All right! All right stop!" Oliver laughed, reaching into his pocket. The newly dubbed Snuffles backed off and watched as Oliver pulled out some sausage with a grin.
"I nicked some off the table at breakfast and saved them for you. Happy Christmas, Snuffles," he said, holding the sausages out. Snuffles barked happily, chasing after his tail for a second before devouring the sausages completely. When he was done he tackled Oliver and proceeded to deposit as much sausage and dog-breath smelling drool on the boy's face as possible in gratitude.
That night, Snuffles accompanied Oliver to the steps of Hogwarts, remaining mostly in the shadows, but close enough so that every now and then the boy could reach out and scratch in that one amazing spot right behind his ears.
--
Oliver was worried, the first day of term, as he headed out to the pitch. Perhaps something had happened to his furry friend?
He breathed easier when he realized his worry was in vain, as a big shaggy mass barked at him from the other side of the pitch when he walked out of the changing rooms.
"'Lo Snuffles! I'm going to do a few laps up there first, okay?" he shouted, pointing up. Snuffles barked at him again, tail wagging. Oliver grinned and mounted his broom, shooting up into the sky, happy to be back.
January started out as an endless stream of starting classes and McGonagall confiscating Harry's broom (which Snuffles seemed highly interested in, though maybe he was just imagining it). After the Slytherin and Ravenclaw match, though, it became all about Quidditch and practice every single day. Those days, Oliver didn't do his usual flying by himself. Rather, he'd take his time in the locker room, either letting Snuffles slip in to talk while he dried and dressed, or slipping out to sneak some sausages to the dog.
After the practice the day before the big Gryffindor and Ravenclaw match, Oliver slipped out and sat next to Snuffles.
"So, it's Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, the match we've been preparing for. If we can beat them, then we'll be going against Slytherin for the cup," he stated.
"I hope we get the cup. I mean, it's my last year, and my team is bloody amazing…right?" he asked looking at the dog. Snuffles whuffed in agreement and Oliver grinned.
"Right. So…you'll be there yeah?" Snuffles glanced at him, giving that foolish doggie grin, whuffing again.
The match the next day passed by in a blur to Oliver. If asked later what he remembered about the game, he wouldn't be able to reply. But he did remember landing, landing and laughing and celebrating with his team, and hearing a bark, and turning and watching Snuffles twirl in circles after his tail a few times before disappearing. As if he knew the final score, like he knew Gryffindor had won, like he knew that this was exactly what the human was talking about.
As if a dog could understand Quidditch. Oliver smirked and turned back to his team, laughing and cheering once more.
That night Sirius Black slipped into Gryffindor tower. The next day Snuffles didn't show up. When he did show up two nights later, Oliver was suspiciously quiet, only sitting next to his canine friend and scratching his ears absently.
As the term progressed, life returned to normal. An endless stream of Quidditch, and N.E.W.T. practice. In April, Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup. Oliver thought he would never be happier than that moment. The next day when he walked out on to the pitch Snuffles bowled him over and slobbered all over him in congratulations. They played fetch with the Quaffle and Oliver recounted the entire match—with only a few exaggerations. By the time he left to go back to the castle, he was practically bouncing.
It was the day of his very last N.E.W.T. exam and about a week until Oliver's last day of school when he decided to ask Snuffles if he wanted to go back home with him. Assuming, of course, he didn't have a family. But judging by the state of the dog's coat and health, Oliver found it doubtful. After a year of having the dog around whenever he needed, he'd grown close to him. He thought, perhaps, it would be in both of their best interest to stick together.
And if nothing else, they both liked playing with Quaffles, and that was important enough to keep each other around.
But Snuffles didn't show up that night.
The next morning everybody was talking about Professor Lupin being a werewolf and loose on the grounds the night before. Dread filled Oliver's heart as he stumbled towards the Defense Professor's office and banged on the door. Lupin opened the door and stared at the boy in shock.
"Mr. Wood! You were certainly the last person I expected to see today. What's wrong?" he asked quickly. Oliver stared at his professor and swallowed.
"Professor, I…I don't mean to…I mean no…Do werewolves eat dogs?" he blurted out. Lupin stared at him for a moment, his lips forming the question, brow furrowed, before he smiled.
"Dogs, Oliver?" he asked. Oliver nodded.
"Yes. Like, big black shaggy dogs that sit on Quidditch pitches and play with Quaffles?" He was on the verge of panic, and knew it showed. For some inexplicable reason his question made the Professor throw back his head and laugh.
"Oh Merlin, he…" shaking his head Lupin stopped and smiled at the boy.
"Hardly. A werewolf, as you should know Mr. Wood, is only a threat to humans, and perhaps the occasional rabbit or squirrel should it be hungry. A large dog would never need to worry about a werewolf unless it was asking for trouble. And that hardly sounds like an animal that would look for trouble…er…with a werewolf, at least," he explained, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Oliver swallowed.
"So you…you didn't…um…" Lupin chuckled and shook his head.
"No, I'm quite happy to say the most I ate last night was a clump full of dirt after a Centaur decided I was getting a bit too cheeky. I'm sure your friend is fine. Perhaps he has decided to go find a nice place to stay for the summer when there are no Quidditch players to feed him, and merely forgot to say goodbye." Though it didn't make him feel completely better, it did help to know that his favorite furry friend didn't die at the hands of his favorite professor. Nodding, Oliver swallowed.
"Thanks Professor. And…um…sorry," he said, flushing. Lupin smiled softly.
"It's quite all right, Mr. Wood. I understand entirely. Now if you excuse me, I'm rather busy at the moment. I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Wood. May you have a wonderful summer." Oliver nodded.
"Bye Professor," he replied, before walking off.
Every single day he waited for Snuffles to return until the last day.
Every single day he left disappointed.
--
"Harry!"
"Oliver!" The two laughed and met up in the middle of the street, Ron and Hermione behind the youngest Champion. It was a little over a week after the second task, a Hogsmeade weekend.
"I leave and you ditch Quidditch to fight Dragons and Mermaids?" Oliver joked. Harry smiled slightly.
"Well, you know, it's just not the same with out you around, Oliver," he replied. Oliver laughed.
"No I imagine not. Anyways, congratulations on surviving this long, kid. You were pretty great last task." Harry grinned.
"Thanks. What are you doing here, anyways? Shouldn't you be practicing?" Oliver shrugged.
"Eh, after your performance with the Dragon, coach decided us newbies could learn a thing or two. One of the guys has a place near here, so we're sticking around for a while, then we'll go back for a bit and come back in time for the third task," he replied.
"I have a feeling there's more to that story," Harry replied, with a grin. Oliver smirked.
"There always is but—" Oliver stopped and glanced down at the big shaggy mass next to Harry. His heart skipped a beat and he grinned.
"Snuffles you mangy mutt! Is that you?" he exclaimed. The dog barked and twirled after his tail as Oliver laughed.
"Look at you, haven't changed a bit. Replaced me rather easily, didn't you?" he asked, crouching down and scratching the dog behind the ears, missing the strange look Harry gave to the dog and his two friends.
"Erm…you know this dog?" Harry asked.
"Sure do, he spent most of last year hanging around the Quidditch pitch while I practiced, mangy mutt," Oliver replied as Snuffles whuffed. Harry let out a snort of amusement.
"Well, not much has changed, he's still hanging around."
"Yeah, I was worried about him. He kind of disappeared that last week. Thought maybe…well never mind. It's good to see him again," Oliver stated, straightening and frowning slightly as Harry fidgeted. Harry grinned at him.
"Well, you know how dogs are." Oliver grinned and nodded.
"Well it was great to see you Harry, you too, Ron, Hermione. I'll let you guys go. And you," Oliver stated, turning to look at Snuffles who grinned up at him, "don't be a stranger."
The dog barked as he walked off waving.
--
It was strange watching Harry and Snuffles. Harry seemed to treat the dog as if…he were human. Not in the way that Oliver did it, but like…it was awkward talking to the dog as a dog, and it would be much easier if he were a human instead. And they would always disappear, Harry with a full bag of food one way, and empty bag the next. And it wasn't exactly small portions of food for a dog, but enough to feed a full grown man for awhile until Harry could return. And the dog seemed more human then Oliver remembered, too. At least…more attentive to his surroundings. Far too attentive for a normal dog, at least.
Finally fed up, Oliver decided to follow Snuffles after he had ridded himself of Harry. He moved quietly, and stayed behind the dog. Waiting until it had disappeared into, what he assumed was, a cave, before starting up the incline. When he reached the opening he flattened himself against the wall and listened to a man mumbling to something called "Buckbeak" which was odd, because he could've sworn he heard that name some where before. Perhaps some one else had given Snuffles a name and shelter? Buckbeak was just about as stupid as Harry's name for the dog (Padfoot—honestly, who calls a dog Padfoot?). Pulling his wand out, Oliver ditched his common sense and walked into the cave.
The convict Sirius Black turned quickly, staring at him and cursing.
"Oliver, what the hell—"
"How do you know my name?" Oliver shrieked, brandishing his wand. "And where's Snuffles?"
"Look, Oliver, you have to calm down," Black said, lifting his hands and slowly moving towards him, revealing a Hippogriff who seemed very disgruntled. Care of Magical Creatures from the year before came back and Oliver realized that it was the same Buckbeak that mauled Malfoy. And if that was Buckbeak then Snuffles had to be in here some where and maybe he would protect him from Black.
"Snuffles?" he cried looking around. Black froze and Oliver stared at him, watching as the man's grey eyes (so familiar) widened and his black…black hair…Just like….
"Oh Merlin you're a…an…anim—" Oliver blacked out.
--
"C'mon, sit up, there's a lad. Drink this, come on."
"Snuffles?" Oliver groaned between sips of cool water.
"If that'll keep you from passing out on me again, I will more than gladly allow you to call me that, and might even change back once I get you back on your feet and a vow of silence," the voice replied. Oliver opened his eyes and stared at the blurry form in front of him.
"Wha—"
"Don't talk, drink some more water," the voice commanded. Water trickled down his throat and he swallowed, staring as the blurry form became clearer and clearer. Finally it came to his attention that Sirius Black was hovering above him looking very, very worried.
"Merlin's balls," Oliver whispered, paling. Sirius held up a hand.
"Now look here, Oliver Wood. You and I both know I've had more chances to kill you then anybody else aside from your parents probably has. And I haven't harmed you once—well, except that one time when I scratched your arm trying to get the Quaffle—but either way. I mean you no harm. Surely you don't think Harry Potter would be walking around with me, still alive, if I meant harm to anybody," he said quickly. Oliver sat up quickly and tried to scramble away from the man. He managed about an inch before his back collided with a wall.
"But…but Peter Pettigrew, and all those people! I was old enough, y'know, when that happened! I remember!" he exclaimed. Sirius frowned.
"I suppose…I suppose you're about…what, four years older than Harry? Doesn't surprise me really. I can believe that," he muttered.
"But look, it wasn't…it's a long story that doesn't need to be hashed out between us. You honestly think I'd just walk around Hogsmeade with a kid I wanted dead?" he asked. Oliver frowned.
"Er…well you could…" he paused, trying to find some logical conclusion, and failing miserably. He stared at Sirius, confusion, panic, and all sorts of other things he couldn't figure out starting to set in.
"I just…you…Snuffles…" Panic taking over, Oliver started to hyperventilate. Sirius stared at him.
"Oliver? Oliver! Breathe! Breathe! Damn it!" Without thinking the older man crushed his lips against Oliver's darting his tongue inside the other's mouth.
It was like…his heart stopped. His brain stopped. In fact, everything pretty much stopped. Oliver stared at the ratty, knotted, tangled, matted black hair in front of his eyes as the tongue darted around his mouth, tasting him. Sirius' lips were chapped, he tasted almost minty, like he had used Oliver's wand to freshen his breath while the boy was out cold. There was entirely too much tongue and teeth in his kiss—almost like a dog would do, assuming, of course, that a dog French kissed. Where his hands grasped Oliver's face, Oliver could feel rough calluses. And the feeling of Sirius' stubble raking against his skin, well it was…odd.
Sirius pulled away, pale as a sheet, and stared at Oliver, who finally remembered how to breathe properly.
"All right?" he asked. Oliver blinked and looked at him.
"Yeah," he muttered, before launching himself at Sirius, kissing him fiercely.
It seemed almost natural, for some reason, for them to be kissing. As if it was the next step in the progression of relationship from boy to dog who is really a man. It was strange, and highly disturbing (especially as a little voice wondered in the back of Oliver's mind what it would be like to kiss Snuffles in this way), but it was just…right. And didn't that just take the cake?
They pulled away from each other, panting for breath, looking more disheveled then when they started.
"I should go," Oliver whispered. Sirius nodded.
"Yes you should," he replied as Oliver got up and grabbed his wand. Sirius stood and they stared at each other awkwardly for a few moments.
"You won't tell anyone?" Sirius asked finally. Oliver shook his head.
"Not even Harry," he replied, before turning and leaving without another word.
And he didn't. He didn't tell a single sole about Sirius Black being an Animagus or how he was living in a cave outside of Hogsmeade, apparently innocent, and in good terms with Harry Potter.
Nor did he tell anybody about how for nearly three months he visited Sirius Black almost every single day. Sometimes he would just play with or pet Snuffles (Padfoot was still a silly name), other days he'd talk with Sirius about things like Quidditch or other light hearted topics, and sometimes…sometimes they'd do things that made Oliver question his sanity, not to mention his previously uncontested sexuality.
Then Cedric Diggory was murdered.
Oliver pushed his way through the crowd and watched as a dark shadow slinked out of Hogwarts. Carefully he followed after, waiting until they were out of ear shot of reporters and other people before calling out.
"Snuffles!" The mass stopped and turned, staring at him. Its tail twitched and it motioned for Oliver to follow with its head. Together they slipped inside of the Forbidden Forest, going in just far enough in for Sirius to change into his human form with out having to worry about being seen, or being eaten.
"What happened Sirius?" Oliver asked, staring at the older man.
"Voldemort has returned." It was blunt. It was matter of fact. It scared him shitless. They stared at each other quietly for a moment before Oliver sighed.
"This will probably be the last time I see you, won't it?" he asked. Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"More than likely."
"Is…is there anything I can do? To help?" Oliver asked, staring at the man pleadingly. Sirius regarded him carefully before moving forward to cup his face gently in his callused hands, hands Oliver had grown far too comfortable with.
"Stay safe. Don't listen to the Ministry—ever. And keep in contact with Dumbledore. That's all the advice I can offer," he replied. Oliver sighed and closed his eyes, leaning into Sirius' touch.
"You stay safe too. You're a wanted man."
"And you're a rising celebrity. Don't forget us little guys when you've got a thousand people calling your name and offering to buy you a good nice dinner. Rather than day old chicken picked off the bone." Oliver cringed slightly.
"I liked day old chicken off the bone," he muttered, opening his eyes and staring at Sirius, who grinned.
"Well, that makes one of us." Oliver grinned at Sirius. His smile faltered though and he opened his mouth to say more, hesitating slightly. Sirius placed a finger over his lips and shushed him.
"Don't," he whispered, leaning forward and replacing his finger with his lips. Oliver wrapped his arms around Sirius' neck, kissing back fiercely. Sirius finally pulled back and smiled at him, before changing into his canine counterpart, who barked at him before turning around and bounding off. Oliver smiled and wrapped his arms around himself, watching as the dog disappeared.
"Bye Snuffles."