Well, Milk Ain't Much Better

Garrah! Mogseltof speaking- Well… let's just say my mind works in mysterious ways and leave it at that.

Disclaimer- I don't own Sirius, and while I might buy Oreos every now and then, I don't own the rights- or shares in the company- to them.

Sirius Black, convicted mass-murderer, escaped prisoner and betrayed friend, was hungry.

He sidled up the suburban street, cursing his bad luck at not being able to wait for nightfall.

He had to risk it though; there was a car roaming around labelled "Little Whinging- Council Pound" and he did not need that just now.

Then he saw the kid.

The kid was sitting on a doorstep with a glass of milk and- a whole plate of chocolate cream biscuits.

He hesitated- he needed to get out of there, but he was so hungry. The kid couldn't possibly eat a whole plate, could he?

His stomach growled and, mind made up, he walked slowly over to the kid.

He widened his eyes dolefully, and whined pitifully, licking the ground next to the plate, looking up hopefully.

"Are you hungry?" asked the kid through a mouthful of biscuit. "You want a biscuit?"

Sirius whined and pawed the ground, tongue lolling in the affirmative, eyes wide.

The kid considered him thoughtfully, raising biscuits to his mouth.

Last biscuit. Last chance.

The kid looked from Sirius to the biscuit, chewing his lip.

"Mum says chocolate isn't good for dogs," he said doubtfully. Sirius whined and lowered his hackles. Then the kid brightened. "but you can have my milk!" he said, shoving the glass towards Sirius, raising the last biscuit.

'Milk? Screw that!' Thought the rake like dog.

Sirius jumped on the boy, pinning his arm to the ground, grabbing the biscuit.

He leaped off the boy and sprinted down the nearest alley, away from the yells of the kid, a crumb of chocolate stuck to his lip.