Author's Note: How the heck did Sirius get a haircut in Goblet of Fire when he doesn't have a wand, a knife/pair of scissors, a mirror, or the ability to walk into a salon without getting sent straight to Azkaban? I know that he could have just stolen those while in dog form, but that's a pretty obvious story. I modeled Sirius' behavior as a dog on my own mutt, who never looks happy unless she's just had a walk.
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Moony Lovegood
If there is one thing Sirius prides himself on, it's his charm. Granted, as a scruffy, mangy flea-bitten dog it isn't likely that people will fawn over him, but there are always the kindest girls who sneak him chicken and give him a good ruffle round the ears, which are the things highest on his list of priorities. These girls usually queue up around the Three Broomsticks, and Rosmerta was no hag herself in personality or looks. The best thing of all, though, was that Harry and his friends went to the pub as well, and they'd always bring food for him.
Today was not going well, though. It isn't snowing, but Sirius feels a slick, uneasy bite through his thick, shaggy fur—probably a storm coming on. The few students who'd ventured to Hogsmeade this weekend were staying inside longer than usual, and then rushing from place to place. Certainly no one would pay attention to a stray dog, besides Harry and his friends.
Since they aren't here right now in the awful weather, Sirius whines and shakes himself clear of snow before trudging off to his cave, where he'd at least be able to curl up with Buckbeak as a shield against the cold. He'd made this trek dozens of times, and it always felt longer on days like this.
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A flurry of motion causes Luna Lovegood to glance out of the window. A large, grayish, familiar-shaped lump transforms into a large, black, dejected-looking dog as she watches. "Madame Rosmerta? There appears to be a Grim outside of your pub."
"Oh, that's just Snuffles, love." The charismatic owner gives Luna a pat on the shoulder as a gillywater is set down. "Gave me a bit of a fright, what with the Dementors last year and all, but I don't think the Grim would beg for scraps. Poor thing—I'll pop out and see if I can't let him sleep in the back for the night. Looks like a storm."
"If you don't mind, I could go and fetch him for you."
Were this a male customer, or a particular sort of female, Rosmerta would certainly laugh it off and forget about it in the rush of orders she would have to take and prepare. But Miss Lovegood is a sweet young lady, if a bit odd at times, so she smiles. "Of course, love. Just for that," and she lowers her voice so no one else will get any ideas, "Your gillywater's on the house." The little blonde tugs at her hat and scarf before going out to retrieve Snuffles and Rosmerta goes off to take other orders.
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While the wind begins blowing fiercely against the direction he's going in, Sirius nearly misses the crunch of a light step following behind him. When things get a bit quieter, he hears, "—wait! Please… back!" and turns to see a girl who nearly disappears into the snow with her pale skin, blonde hair, and light blue clothing. Sirius wades through the snow and sniffs at the hand she offers. "My name is Luna, Snuffles. Madame Rosmerta said you could stay in the cellar until the storm lets up."
He follows her back, tail wagging as she absentmindedly puts a hand on his neck to brace herself against the weather. When they arrive back at the Three Broomsticks, Sirius gives a hefty shake, ignoring the customers' cries of disgust as the smell of thawing dog begins to fill the tavern. Luna removes the snow from her clothes with a delicate flick of the wand after he's finished, and heads over to the bar.
Most students only look mildly interested before turning back to their friends. A few animal lovers give him pats on the neck or shoulders as he passes them, and only one bleary-eyed elder croaks something about the Grim. "That's a good girl, Luna," Rosmerta says, smiling. "Just pop him down into the cellar and finish your gillywater."
"You're very welcome, Madame." Luna opens the half-door to get behind the counter. Sirius starts to pant with happiness as the warmth starts to sink into his bones, then remembers Buckbeak out hunting in the snow or curled up in the cave alone, and it turns into a whine. His mood is not helped when they go downstairs into the dimly-lit, cool cellar. It is too much like Azkaban all of a sudden.
"Don't be sad," Luna tells him. "This will only take a moment." She observes him with an intent but no less dreamy expression on her face, then points her wand at him. "Scourgify." All of the dirt and snow is out of his skin, so suddenly that Sirius starts itching like mad. "Hmm. I don't think you'll like losing your fur in this weather, but I really must insist on a trim. Diffindo."
Sirius yelps and shakes himself again, feeling too light. He rolls onto his back as the odd itching sensation grows, and when he's done he sees Luna has conjured water into a bowl for him. He laps at it morosely before huddling into a corner and lying down. He doesn't feel like he deserves to be clean and warm anymore, not while Buckbeak is suffering without him.
Only a few hours out of the hippogriff's company and he's already depressed—Remus had warned him about this, since he'd been so long in Azkaban getting his happy memories sucked out on a daily basis, and whenever they manage to meet up Sirius always comes away with enough chocolate to make a hyperactive twelve-year-old get sick of it. He never feels like the chocolate will be finished in his lifetime, and always manages to run out before the end of the month.
"Why are you so sad?" Luna asks. She approaches him and strokes his neck gently. "I find it odd that getting clean and warm has made you feel even worse. If you were human, I'd say you looked guilty."
And now this strange little girl is petting him and saying deeply unsettling things. Sirius groans and buries his head in his paws. "Perhaps you're sick?" She flips him onto his side with some effort and prods at his stomach. Sirius means to tell her, 'Oi! I am old enough to be your father, now keep your hands off!' but ends up flailing his paws helplessly in the air and laughing the way dogs do, with a strange cross between a whine, a pant, and a high-pitched bark.
"Oh, you're ticklish!" The prodding stops immediately. Thank goodness she hadn't used her wand. "Right you are, then. Maybe you'll feel better if I leave you alone for a while. Good night, Snuffles."
Sirius is used to sleeping on an empty stomach, so he dozes off not long after Luna climbs the stairs and shuts the door securely so light and sounds from above are dampened. After the first panicked awakening, thinking that he was once more in Azkaban, he thought he was in his cave and nearly transformed into a human to call for the hippogriff. Luckily no one comes down to disturb him, but he decides not sleeping is easier and mopes in his corner for a while.
Madame Rosmerta tosses him a couple of drumsticks a few hours later, coos over his haircut and what a nice job Miss Lovegood had done of it, then gives him a pat and disappears back into the pub. He devours one in an instant, then remembers to save the second for Buckbeak and sleeps with the food between his paws. In the morning, Rosmerta sees it and gives him four more.
Sirius finishes off two (not minding the fact that his own fur was stuck to one—life as a fugitive meant he wasn't picky), almost giddy with relief and thanks, then bunches the rest of the chicken into his mouth while he slides past the owner's skirts and runs for the cave through crisp, clean snow and early morning sun.
Sirius is more relieved than ever to finally change back into human form and feeds Buckbeak the chicken himself. The crunching noises of meat and bone have gotten rather soothing to him by now. When they are both full and Buckbeak is preening contentedly, Sirius remembers and casts about for something reflective to look in. He ends up grabbing a handful of snow and letting it melt on the floor, then kneels (Buckbeak gives him the oddest stare), and squints.
He looks… Obviously he looks better than he's ever looked during his time running from the law, but he also looks younger. The haircut in dog form had translated to a nice, even haircut and close shave. His clothes were perfectly clean as well, even mended and patched where they needed to be. Other than looking pale and underfed, like Remus after a full moon or Harry after the summer, he resembles a perfectly normal (and very handsome) member of society.
That Luna had done a nice job, Sirius thinks, running a hand along his jaw with a crooked grin. Before he can think about depressing things, like how he still won't be able to show his face in Hogsmeade since he spent so much time there while he was in school, and if he were to be recognized anywhere besides Hogwarts that'd be it, Sirius rummages around for his emergency chocolate.
He is Sirius Padfoot Black, and for once in fifteen years he looks like it. That's enough to get anyone's spirits up.