A/N: Sorry about the strange format. It seems my computer has issues, and
this is the only way I can make my story readable. _; By the way, I have
a theory that animagi can't hold their animal shape while asleep or under
stress (which is why Sirius changed back into a human when surrounded by
dementors). Anyway, that's how it is in my ficlet.
Paine's Grey
Chapter 2
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- *-*-*-*-*-*-*
I know I dreamt that night, strange, confusing dreams that I couldn't quite
grasp. When I finally faded into consciousness, the first thing I noticed was the
sound of rain hitting the windows and the distant rumble of thunder. Another
rainy day, I thought, glad that I was inside, dry and warm. Instinctively I
snuggled closer to the source of warmth that was in my arms. It was large, and I
could feel smooth skin beneath ragged fabric. Somewhere an alarm bell rang in
my sleep-fogged mind. I struggled to wake up, and began remembering the
events of the night before. I was coming home. found the dog. fell asleep in front of
the fire.I opened my eyes. In my arms, where a big, shaggy dog had been the
night before, a gaunt, shaggy man lay now. As he shifted in his sleep, he turned
his face to me, black hair falling back from high cheekbones. I recognized the face
immediately: it had been on the cover of nearly every newspaper and magazine
for the past two months.
Sirius Black, murderer of thirteen people.
I screamed and started frantically scuttling away from him as fast as I
could. At my yell his eyes snapped open, and with the reflexes of a wild animal
he leapt to his feet. Both our eyes darted to the same thing instantaneously: my
wand, sticking out of a pocket of my cloak. I darted for it, but he was faster. He
snatched my wand right out from under my fingers, then aimed it at me,
breathing fast. I stared at the tip of my own wand, knowing full well that I was
looking at my own death. I didn't close my eyes: I wanted to get one last look at
the world before I was forced to leave it. My eyes fastened to his; they were
bright black, and I realized with a shock that they were the dog's eyes, Black's
eyes. I saw emotions flicker across his face, quick as lightning: fear,
determination, something I couldn't name, then fear again. Several moments
passed, and still I knelt in front of him, bound with dreadful anticipation. Finally
I could stand it no longer.
"If you're going to kill me, do it," I said shakily. Still he didn't move, and
now I saw new feelings write themselves on his features. Pity softened his eyes,
then anger tightened his mouth and unhappiness slackened his cheeks. When he
spoke, I could hear something of all three emotions in his dark, smooth voice.
"I won't kill you," he said, and I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted
from my shoulders. "Despite what everyone says," he continued, anger more
pronounced in his voice now, "I have never killed anyone, and I definitely won't
start by murdering a beautiful woman who is guilty of nothing but stew." He
gave me a small smile that I couldn't find it in myself to return.
"Besides," he growled, his grip on the wand tightening, "I'm saving that
honor for one person in particular." I wondered what he meant by that, then my
mind began working frantically: he said he was innocent, but of course he
would, and there was no good reason to believe him. I weighed my chances.
Black was much bigger than I was, and even though he looked extremely
underfed he still seemed to posses a wiry strength that I realized I couldn't
overcome. On the other hand, the door was only about twenty feet to my left. If
he would just put the wand away, I could probably get away before he could
stop me. I waited for my chance. Black, meanwhile, seemed to have bottled up
his anger once again. He was studying me now with a look both of apprehension
and cautious hope on his face. I forced myself to look straight into his eyes and
give a false smile.
"Well, I'm glad you don't want to kill me, because I don't want to die."
Black's mouth twitched in a slight smile at my feeble joke. I sat back on my knees
as I strove for something else to say.
"So, how long has it been since you had a good meal? Not counting last
night," I added quickly. Black sighed and looked down at his toes, the wand
lowering slightly.
"Too long. I don't even remember what pudding tastes like anymore." For
a moment, looking at his aristocratic, melancholy face, I felt an overwhelming
surge of pity; but the next moment I was back on guard. This man had killed
thirteen people, there were witnesses. Just because he seemed to be suffering
from some sort of denial didn't make him any less dangerous. I stood up
cautiously, very aware that his wand was still pointing at my heart.
"If you want, I have more food," I said enticingly, keeping a close eye on
him. As I had hoped, the mention of food seemed to have temporarily distracted
him. His eyes lit up.
"Food would be very welcome, thank you." And he stuck the wand in his pocket.
Paine's Grey
Chapter 2
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- *-*-*-*-*-*-*
I know I dreamt that night, strange, confusing dreams that I couldn't quite
grasp. When I finally faded into consciousness, the first thing I noticed was the
sound of rain hitting the windows and the distant rumble of thunder. Another
rainy day, I thought, glad that I was inside, dry and warm. Instinctively I
snuggled closer to the source of warmth that was in my arms. It was large, and I
could feel smooth skin beneath ragged fabric. Somewhere an alarm bell rang in
my sleep-fogged mind. I struggled to wake up, and began remembering the
events of the night before. I was coming home. found the dog. fell asleep in front of
the fire.I opened my eyes. In my arms, where a big, shaggy dog had been the
night before, a gaunt, shaggy man lay now. As he shifted in his sleep, he turned
his face to me, black hair falling back from high cheekbones. I recognized the face
immediately: it had been on the cover of nearly every newspaper and magazine
for the past two months.
Sirius Black, murderer of thirteen people.
I screamed and started frantically scuttling away from him as fast as I
could. At my yell his eyes snapped open, and with the reflexes of a wild animal
he leapt to his feet. Both our eyes darted to the same thing instantaneously: my
wand, sticking out of a pocket of my cloak. I darted for it, but he was faster. He
snatched my wand right out from under my fingers, then aimed it at me,
breathing fast. I stared at the tip of my own wand, knowing full well that I was
looking at my own death. I didn't close my eyes: I wanted to get one last look at
the world before I was forced to leave it. My eyes fastened to his; they were
bright black, and I realized with a shock that they were the dog's eyes, Black's
eyes. I saw emotions flicker across his face, quick as lightning: fear,
determination, something I couldn't name, then fear again. Several moments
passed, and still I knelt in front of him, bound with dreadful anticipation. Finally
I could stand it no longer.
"If you're going to kill me, do it," I said shakily. Still he didn't move, and
now I saw new feelings write themselves on his features. Pity softened his eyes,
then anger tightened his mouth and unhappiness slackened his cheeks. When he
spoke, I could hear something of all three emotions in his dark, smooth voice.
"I won't kill you," he said, and I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted
from my shoulders. "Despite what everyone says," he continued, anger more
pronounced in his voice now, "I have never killed anyone, and I definitely won't
start by murdering a beautiful woman who is guilty of nothing but stew." He
gave me a small smile that I couldn't find it in myself to return.
"Besides," he growled, his grip on the wand tightening, "I'm saving that
honor for one person in particular." I wondered what he meant by that, then my
mind began working frantically: he said he was innocent, but of course he
would, and there was no good reason to believe him. I weighed my chances.
Black was much bigger than I was, and even though he looked extremely
underfed he still seemed to posses a wiry strength that I realized I couldn't
overcome. On the other hand, the door was only about twenty feet to my left. If
he would just put the wand away, I could probably get away before he could
stop me. I waited for my chance. Black, meanwhile, seemed to have bottled up
his anger once again. He was studying me now with a look both of apprehension
and cautious hope on his face. I forced myself to look straight into his eyes and
give a false smile.
"Well, I'm glad you don't want to kill me, because I don't want to die."
Black's mouth twitched in a slight smile at my feeble joke. I sat back on my knees
as I strove for something else to say.
"So, how long has it been since you had a good meal? Not counting last
night," I added quickly. Black sighed and looked down at his toes, the wand
lowering slightly.
"Too long. I don't even remember what pudding tastes like anymore." For
a moment, looking at his aristocratic, melancholy face, I felt an overwhelming
surge of pity; but the next moment I was back on guard. This man had killed
thirteen people, there were witnesses. Just because he seemed to be suffering
from some sort of denial didn't make him any less dangerous. I stood up
cautiously, very aware that his wand was still pointing at my heart.
"If you want, I have more food," I said enticingly, keeping a close eye on
him. As I had hoped, the mention of food seemed to have temporarily distracted
him. His eyes lit up.
"Food would be very welcome, thank you." And he stuck the wand in his pocket.