A/N: I can't believe I forgot the fact that Hagrid has a brother in book five… and that was such a major part of the story. I guess that's what happens when you haven't read a book since the day it came out. But have no fear. I can work this. Gwrap doesn't exist in this universe. Other than that, things should be the same through book five. This chapter happens during book three.
xoxox
England August 2015.
It was going to be one of those days. She could tell.
First off, it was Tuesday. Nothing good ever happens on a Tuesday. Death and apocalypse happen on Tuesdays. Too bad it was one of those things that happened once every seven days.
Secondly, the centaurs had decided to take up old issues and become even more of an obstacle than they had been in the past. No more easy partnerships there.
Thirdly, the presence of those damn dementors were giving her the wiggins. It was one thing to live next to a forest that gave off a buzz which she had become accustomed to, it was a totally different thing when she was constantly feeling like a woman in the middle of her first trimester with a dash of suicidal depression thrown in to spice things up.
And fourthly, when she rolled out of bed and looked at the mirror above her dresser it had been none too cautious in telling her exactly what was wrong with her heir that morning. Ha! As if an inanimate object could tell fashion from a fruitcake. Stupid enchanted mirrors. Like she could help that she slept like something very not dead and her hair took the brunt of her restlessness. Really, who wakes up looking perfect?
Oh yes, this is going to be one of those days, Buffy thought to herself as she looked out the window. Her hands clutched tightly around the coffee in her favorite "smartass revving up" mug (Dumbledore got a kick out of it and asked for one on Christmas). She inhaled deeply, taking in the aroma of ground coffee beans and smiled. Sure, she had gotten used to the tea these people seemed to thrive on, but there was nothing like that first cup of coffee in the morning. The only thing that could have made it any better was if it had been one of those frothy frappichino things that Willow…
And there went the little good that there was. Right out the window and into the pouring rain.
Buffy sighed and turned her attention back to the front window, blocking out all thoughts that would bring her down. Although, she thought to herself, if there was ever a perfect day for a pity party, this is it. The rain was pouring, tiny rivers were forming, the wind was howling… oh wait. No, that was coming from the big black dog prowling around her front porch.
So much for a quiet, relaxing day.
She finally stood, opened her front door, and went out to her porch swing, all the while watching the large, black dog running covertly from tree to tree, obviously unaware of being watched. Gently, she pushed to get the swing going before settling into the wooden seat, her hands wrapped securely around the hot mug.
Something butted against her thigh and she absently mindedly picked up the small, blue ball of fluff, otherwise known as the-cat-that-followed-her-home-earlier-in-the-month-during-patrol.
It was freely affectionate, and she had to admit that there were times that it would be nice to have something to keep her company during the long hours. So far, the arrangement had worked out for the betterment of everyone. The cat got food and a name, and Buffy got a throat warmer since apparently the animal laying draped over Buffy's neck while she slept.
Sure it was blue. But that just made it seem to fit in with this world even more. Plus, who else could say they had a blue cat? Miss Kitty Fantastico would have been so jealous.
The sharp clicking of nails on wood brought her out of her fascination of the cat's ice-blue eyes (really, who ever saw a cat with ice-blue eyes). The dog had finally noticed her cottage as a refuge from the rain had mad his way into the shelter of the porch.
"About time," she muttered, "I was beginning to wonder if you preferred the freezing rain to actual warmth like normal people."
The dog cocked is head in inquiry before sitting on the doormat and waiting for a reply.
"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods… again?"
Buffy shifted her body until she was at the end of the bench but kept concentrating on the small, fluffy animal in her lap, completely engrossed in the feel of blue fur and constantly surprised that the color didn't rub off on her hands.
A thin body lowered into the now available seat beside her. He was silent for only a few moments before he spoke, after all, silence had never been Sirius' strong point. Not even Azabakan was able to change that. "You never explained how you were able to do that."
"Do what?" she said with a slight smirk, never looking up.
"You knew from the beginning what I was. I have to say that it's not every day that someone is able to do that, even among our people, and yet you were. Do you want to explain that to me?"
"Sirius, you keep grasping at straws that aren't there." She leaned in close in a conspiratorial manner, her eyes still on the cat, "You know, they do teach how to spot a animagus at that school over the hill right there. And as I know you went to it…"
"Yeah I got it." His voice cracked from disuse but he still had a slight grin on his lips, however small it was. These moments of levity were all he had to lighten his load of both vengeance and protection. Even if he had almost lost his life the first time their paths crossed.
"But even so," he continued, "You knew within seconds. That's not entirely normal you know."
"Normal is overrated… or so all the normal people tell me."
"Buffy…"
"What?" her tone was all innocence.
He snorted, "One of these days I'm going to pry the secret out of you."
"Please, you say that like there's some huge mystery going on here. Even if I didn't know, Snickers doesn't like dogs." She lightly ran her hand along the bright blue fur of the animal sitting contentedly in her lap. "The fact that she's happy as a bug tells me everything I need to know."
Buffy finally looked up to see the smirk gracing his features, "So that's your secret weapon then, a two pound ball of fluff."
Both females glared at him and he wisely decided that it would be time for a tactical retreat before he lost something important. He rose to leave but the concerned look Buffy was giving him stopped him in his tracks.
"You haven't been eating, have you?" she asked quietly.
He shrugged, "Not time. I have things to do that don't allow the luxury of hunting down my next meal."
Her eyes narrowed, "So when you pass out from exhaustion, what exactly is Harry going to do then?"
"Don't talk to me about my godson," he snapped out furiously. "You have no concept of what is going on here. Don't pretend you do."
"Oh really," she stated quietly as she rose to her feet, carefully setting the blue cat aside. "And what is it exactly about this situation that I don't understand? Please, tell me what you've left out in our conversations."
"You don't—"
"Stop." She held up a small hand, "Before you say something you're going to regret. Just stop."
He only got angrier at her quiet words and opened his mouth to tell her exactly what he thought about her self-righteous assumptions that she knew what he was going through because she had been the sympathetic ear on the few occasions that he needed someone to be there for him. But the look on her face stopped him.
"Sirius, you aren't angry at me and I refuse to stand here and take the brunt of your anger because I make an easy target simply because I'm available."
His irrational anger died a quiet death at the broken expression on her face and he rapped his arms around his gaunt frame to stop the chill racing down his spine. She looked so… lost.
"I'm nothing but concerned for you. If you can take a simple question like that and twist it into an attack then there's a problem." She looked him dead in the eye and continued, "But I refuse to be your whipping boy."
He sighed and finally relaxed is defensive posture, "I didn't mean—"
"I know." Se reached out and gently tugged on his ragged sleeve in a gesture of affection and then smiled, a little of the life coming back into her expression, "You know, you don't have to keep foraging on your own." She gestured to the cottage with a slight tilt to her chin, "Dumbledore tells me that my little house is able to add on at will. Say the word and guest bedroom number one can be up and running in seconds." She smirked at him, "I'll even let you have you have your own bathroom you won't have to deal with my girly mess."
He smiled, a true smile this time, and answered in a wry voice, "While I'm sure that offer has nothing to do with the fact that the thought of sharing your bathroom with someone else is enough to send you screaming into the night and everything with being a good host I'm going to have to pass."
She opened her mouth to protest, very nicely ignoring that bathroom comment she thought, but he stopped her before the first word with a small gesture, "I'll be fine Buffy. I know the outskirts of the forest well enough to know where the trouble spots are and what to avoid. I'll be fine."
She rolled her eyes, "While I won't begrudge you your manly living-outdoors-and-becoming-one-with-nature thing you obviously have your heart set on, would you at least consider the Shrieking Shack as a shelter?" She glared at him, "Not a very good one, but a shelter."
He blinked, clearly startled at the thought, "The shack, I hadn't thought…"
"Men," she muttered as he stood there stunned, "Well, get inside. I don't have all night."
"What are you talking about?"
"Do you actually think I'm letting you out of this house smelling like that and with your stomach making those God-awful noises?" She gave him a gentle shove towards the door to get him moving. "Please, I'd never hear the end of it."
He moved slowly into the warmth of her home before making a beeline for the bathroom. "Throw your clothes out and I'll wash them while you're in there," she called out right before the door slammed shut. A second later it opened again and dirty articles of clothing came flying out.
"Ungrateful dog," she muttered to herself as she moved to gather them up, just loud enough to be heard through the door. A snicker from the other side made her sure she had been heard as intended.
She paused as she picked up the last smelly garment, a thought occurring to her. "Hey Sirius," she called though the door.
"Yeah."
"What happens to your clothes when you change forms?"
She heard him burst out laughing through the wood of the door and smiled to herself. Mission accomplished.
Maybe Tuesdays were looking up.
She groaned.
If that wasn't a jinx, she didn't know what was.
Tbc…
