A/N: Hey guys! Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! I am so glad that you guys are so intrigued by this story, and I hope that it lives up to the suspense that's building! You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates, and answer questions!
Huge shout out to Heeley and Calebski who are beta reading this story for me. Seriously, they are angels who walk the Earth and have helped transform this from one big grammatical issue to something pleasant to read. I am so grateful for their help! So thank you!
Please let me know what you thought of chapter two and be on the lookout for chapter three next Tuesday!
Once she knew about the black dog that was inhabiting the caves on the edge of the Hogwarts wards, Hermione was unable to push the knowledge from her mind. Especially having seen that he was in some kind of altercation with a wizard or witch that had lead to him being injured, she found her mind drifting to his scruffy face again and again. Was he okay? Was he cold or hungry? Did he have anyone besides Crookshanks for company?
Somehow she doubted it, seeing as the whole school seemed to be aware that there was a Grim roaming the grounds, and some of her classmates had even claimed to spot the beast. Professor Lupin had been cajoled into telling them more about the ghostly beast, a harbinger of death, during Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Hermione hadn't been able to stop herself from doing her own bit of research. It seemed that all over the British Isles and even beyond, the Grim had its own name and myths surrounding it. The Beast of Flanders, Cŵn Annwn, Tchico, Moddey Dhoo, Cù-Sith, Padfoot. She was even surprised to see that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had bought into the hype with the Hound of the Baskervilles.
It amused her so much to think of the ghostly spectre, a massive dog that was there to take her spirit away. When she was with the black dog, she seriously could not imagine her gentle dog friend marking her for death. Because she was so positive that it was not a Grim that she was dealing with, she felt compelled to continue to visit him, bringing bits of food whenever she could.
After dinner, Hermione had told Harry and Ron that she was going to head to the library, in order to shake them off. There was no way she would be telling either one of them about her continued journeys. Every time the Grim was seen, Ron became more and more smug. She was positive he'd be furious if she told him she was actually helping the dog. With her bag full of leftover meat from dinner and her copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles, she set off towards the caves.
It was dark outside, but Hermione's footing was sure seeing as she'd made this same journey nearly a dozen times since Crookshanks had brought her there. The trip across the grounds was by far her least favorite part. As soon as you got away from the castle, the cheery light diminished until you could barely see your breath in front of you. It was much colder than usual for autumn, and the crunching sound of her feet on frozen leaves and grass seemed to echo, announcing her procession to whoever cared to notice.
The worst part of her was when she had to approach the Black Lake. A perpetual fog seemed to have settled on its shores, wrapping her in an icy embrace. The stagnant mist penetrated clothing and charms alike, a mockery of a lover's caress on her skin, sending a chill up her spine. It was enough to have her doubling her pace, nearly to a jog, to cross the distance and get to her new friend faster.
The black dog no longer growled at her when she entered the caves, perhaps recognizing her scent or the cadence of her steps, but he did always regard her with a human-like expression that seemed to question her continued companionship. "Really?" His gaze seemed to say. "You again?" He would pad over to the little fire pit that she'd constructed, waiting for her to light the twigs and branches and absorb some of the warmth from the flickering flames.
She would drop to her knees and give him a scratch behind the ears, before digging whatever food she'd brought with her out of her bag. Tonight, it was a thick, juicy piece of brisket, with the fatty edge still on the side. He was practically salivating at the sight, and tore into it as soon as it left her hand. Hermione couldn't stifle a giggle, and busied herself with pulling the book out of her bag. "You've really got the whole school talking, boy," she told him with a smile. "Even Professor Lupin had to stop a lecture today to talk about the Grim."
The black dog looked up at her, as though he were interested. She knew that it was a bit preposterous to think that he was participating in the discussion with her, but after putting up with her "too intelligent by half" cat for several years, it had become habit by now. Even if she could talk about this with Harry or Ron, she knew that they wouldn't find it interesting enough to listen to her. "Although, I will say that there are lots of different names for the Grim, all over Britain and beyond. You don't really seem like a Grim."
She was sure that if he had eyebrows, he would have raised them. Hermione giggled. Of course, he didn't seem like a Grim, mainly because there was no such thing. In any case, the Grim was meant to be a ghostly spirit, and she had very reliable evidence - the fact that he loved ear scratches and belly rubs - that he was very solid, and very real. "I just mean to say that I think some of the other names might better suit you. I was thinking that I would call you...Padfoot," she told him confidently. Hermione wasn't entirely sure why, but the name Padfoot just seemed to fit him.
The dog stilled at that, before a little whine left his throat. She was captivated by the haunted look in his gray eyes, until he broke the contact, standing up and moving to press his face into her hand. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Hermione kissed the top of his furry head. Apparently he liked the name, too.
Harry had grown increasingly worried about Hermione's frequent solo trips to the library. For some reason, he was absolutely convinced that Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater, and that she was in danger from the blond boy. Honestly, having bumped into Malfoy in the hallway the other day, Hermione was almost more worried about her bigoted bully than she was about him doing anything to her. He looked horrible and he hadn't even spared her the energy to throw an insult her way.
Despite her insistence that she could look out for herself, Harry insisted on Hermione being accompanied by someone at the library, just in case. She had grown incredibly irritated, in that it meant that her visits to Padfoot - some time alone that she increasingly enjoyed - had been dramatically reduced. Mostly, the only time that she could get away from her two watchful wardens was during Quidditch practice or games.
For instance, that day, Ron and Harry were going to watch the Ravenclaw - Slytherin match for reconnaissance. Hermione jumped at the chance to head over to visit Padfoot, wanting to make good on her promise to give the dog a bath. She knew that he could take care of himself, seeing as he'd been living on his own for Godric knows how long, but Hermione was determined to look after him, and nothing beat a bubble bath.
"Good afternoon, Padfoot!" she called out cheerfully, observing the large black dog lounging in a patch of sunlight. Finding a suitable rock, she transfigured it into a bathtub that would be big enough to fit him in. A quick charm had that tub filled with water and then heated. "Alright, into the water you go," she instructed, looking at the dog pointedly.
To her amusement, Padfoot seemed as if the last thing he would want to do would be to get into the water. Placing her hands on her hips in that bossy way of her's, Hermione scolded him. "Padfoot...I don't have much time. I have to get back to the castle before the Quidditch match is over."
Snorting, the dog stood up, before clambering into the tub, sending water sloshing over the sides and even splashing Hermione a little bit. Letting out a noise of annoyance, Hermione used her wand to dry her shirt, not wanting to be left dripping wet in the cool autumn air. Conjuring a bit of soap, Hermione got to work scrubbing the dog from the tip of his nose down to his tail, making sure to spend extra time scratching him where he seemed to like it most. By the end, he was practically purring under the feel of her fingernails.
Using her wand, she let the water work all the remaining soap out of his fur, before banishing away the dirty bathwater. "Wow, Padfoot. It looks like you've never had a bath before," she told him, seeing the disgusting residue that was left behind. Then she laughed to herself. "Of course, you probably haven't had a bath before."
Once he was out of the water, it seemed that Padfoot simply could not wait to shake himself dry, sending drops of water all over the room, the vast majority of them hitting Hermione once again. She cursed at finding her shirt quite wet and clingy once again, only to use a charm to dry both herself and the dog.
It was nearly second nature to light a fire for the dog, even though it wasn't nighttime. She was positive that the affectionate animal would be happy for the warmth, no matter the time of day. The brunette made a mental note to bring some blankets with her the next time she came to visit the caves, and then settled next to the fire, patting the ground beside her to get Padfoot to sit by her side.
The dog walked towards her, before laying down, his head resting on his paws, giving her a guilty look. Hermione smirked at him. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I won't let anyone - not even Crookshanks - know that you purred like a little kitten while getting your bath," she could only imagine what her familiar would think of that.
Digging into her bag, she pulled out a book on Transfiguration. Before she could even get comfortable, she could hear the noise of the crowd swelling to levels that could only indicate that the snitch had been caught. The game was over. "I'm sorry, Padfoot. I have to get going," she whispered to her companion, giving him one last scratch behind the ears before she left the cave, leaving him behind.
Padfoot sat on his haunches, waiting for her footsteps to fade away into the distance before he transformed back into a human. For once, Sirius Black was glad that Crookshanks wasn't there to witness his transformation. Groaning low in his throat, Sirius laid on his back, naked body barely covered by his shabby looking robe. That had been absolute torture.
He didn't think he could imagine another time when he'd cursed his enhanced senses, but being so close to Hermione was killing him. Her scent lingered long after she'd left, and he couldn't shake the memory of the way her shirt had clung to her curves when he'd splashed her. It was barely better than when she came in her school uniform, wearing those knee socks…
The phantom feeling of her fingers massaging the soap into his fur remained and was causing all sorts of physical reactions even though he'd been a dog at the time. His body still had very real connections between dog and human and it had felt criminally good.
Taking a deep breath and forcing himself not to give in to his baser reactions, Sirius ran a hand across his face. He was determined that the growing attraction for her was solely due to the fact that he'd seldom had any human interactions since he'd been put in Azkaban, of the womanly variety or otherwise. He was positive that, in time, he would learn to control himself around the girl, and not find himself panting after her, long after she'd gone.
It had felt as if her heart had stopped mid-beat when she watched, helplessly, as Lavender Brown planted her lips against Ron Weasley's, and then….he had leaned into the kiss, taking it deeper. The party in Gryffindor tower, post Quidditch win, had cheered loudly at the sight, but everything seemed to fade away for Hermione, standing shocked in the middle of it all. The only things she was aware of was that she couldn't tear her eyes away from the object of her affection kissing another girl and the fact that a huge lump in her throat was working its way upward, causing tears to prickle behind her eyes.
A sob tore out of her mouth and she knew that she had to get out of there before she embarrassed herself in front of all of her housemates, blubbering like a baby because a boy didn't like her the same way she liked him. Obviously.
Harry didn't notice as she slipped out of the portrait hole and away from the revelers. Hermione wasn't sure if she should be upset that her friend was oblivious to her in that moment, or if she should be pleased that no one would be there to witness her break down, wallowing in the pain of a teenage crush.
Her feet carried her down the now familiar path without conscious thought. It didn't matter that she only had a flimsy scarf to keep her warm, too numb to register to temperature, she stumbled down the stairs with burning eyes, and out the front door. Really, when she thought about it, there was nowhere for her to go except to visit Padfoot. He'd always been there for her when Quidditch ruined her life.
The trip across the grounds to the caves was worse than it had ever been. She didn't bother with her wand, and it was pitch black out. Her footing wasn't nearly as sure as usual, her mind too caught up in feeling sorry for herself. Using her sleeves to wipe away her tears, she frightened herself more than once, getting grabbed by swaying branches from the trees on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
It seemed to take her an hour to get there, but she was sure that it hadn't taken her longer than usual. As soon as she tumbled into the cave, Padfoot was on edge, standing and trotting over to her, sniffing her hands to try and deduce what it was that was wrong with her. She wondered if he could smell the saltiness in her tears. Hermione couldn't stop herself from letting out a bitter laugh, wondering just how friendless she really was that she would run to a dog for comfort.
Wrapping her arms around Padfoot's neck, Hermione collapsed to her knees, her laughter quickly reverting back into sobs. She dug her fingers into his fur and held him close, trying to calm herself down, feeling a bit ridiculous. The massive dog was quite clearly distressed from her tears, and was desperately licking at her face, his whines echoing throughout the cave.
When she finally thought that she had a hold of herself, Hermione pulled back and looked into the dog's silver eyes. "Oh Padfoot, you are going to think me so silly," she whispered, her thumbs desperately wiping the tears away from her cheeks. "A boy that I like kissed another girl, in front of everyone in Gryffindor tower."
Padfoot stared at her, before sitting down with purpose, as if to encourage her to go on. Chuckling at his antics, Hermione sent a spell at their little firepit, waiting for the flames to jump to light. She sat cross-legged in front of it, waiting for Padfoot to come join her, before continuing. "Well, I guess you could say he's a bit more than a boy that I like. He's one of my best friends, too."
The silence stretched between them for a moment, while Hermione went a bit cross-eyed watching the fire hiss and pop. "I suppose now I know that he doesn't think of me in that way," she told Padfoot, feeling rather sorry for herself. "The girl that he kissed, Lavender, well, she's a lot prettier than me. She's got blonde hair and a body I am sure most girls are jealous of." Unconsciously, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.
Padfoot laid down, pressing his head into her lap, and looking up at her as if she was crazy. As if to say, I think you are amazing. Hermione shook her head, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Well, I can't very well trust your opinion. You're just a dog." She was sure Padfoot did think she was amazing, seeing as she brought him food and companionship.
Sighing, she laid down on her side, letting her body curl around the dog. For a while he seemed to stiffen, but then with a great shuddering sigh, Padfoot relaxed, leaning into her. He even let her wrap and arm around him, holding onto him like a big, furry pillow.
"The funny thing is that I don't even know why I like Ron. Or even, if I still do like Ron. He can be terribly rude to me, and he sometimes belittles the things I like to do for fun...I am sure we would have been at each other's throats even if we had dated."
It felt good to get all of that off of her chest, knowing that Padfoot would never betray her trust. It felt good to talk through her feelings for Ron, especially because she still didn't really know what she was thinking. There was something about her canine companion that was so soothing. He made her realize that she didn't need to decide anything right now, and instead, just listened to the fire dying down, her eyes growing heavy with sleep.
She was completely oblivious to the fact that Padfoot was fuming internally. That he was not just a dog, and instead was a very irritated animagus, who wanted to know just who it was that had upset the magnificent creature currently wrapped around his body. That he wanted to tell her that her best friend was an idiot and she shouldn't waste her tears on him. But that was a futile wish, seeing as Hermione thought he was just a dog and she would likely be furious to learn that he was masquerading the whole while. She would be even more upset when she realized who he was - escaped convict Sirius Black. It was impossible that she hadn't read the newspapers and the warnings.
But that didn't change his desire to transform and hold her properly for once.