A/N: Complete rework of my old Sirius/OC story, Some Might Say, because I'm not happy with how that one turned out.
Heather was used to her little brother dragging her into bother. It wasn't really his fault, but it was certainly his habit in the three years they'd been in the lives of one another. That in itself was impressive, considering his first year at Hogwarts had coincided with her final one, so proximity wasn't even a good excuse in the two years since. What she wasn't used to, however, was not knowing exactly what she was getting into. Sure, more often than not she was rushing to catch up with the finer points of what was going on and thinking as much as possible on her feet (something which was pretty embarrassing considering how many years she had on him), but that was still better than getting a letter by owl insisting that she make her way to Hogsmeade and just…wait. For what? Well, he didn't elaborate on that. But she listened all the same, complied, and wondered who between the two of them was the prat with that taken into account.
She had a lot of time to think it over, too. Sitting in The Three Broomsticks, she sipped at a coffee and considered the letter. There wasn't a whole lot to consider.
Go to Hogsmeade and wait there. Have a drink, enjoy your Friday afternoon. You'll understand soon. Please, thank you, sorry! - H
He didn't have a future in creative writing, her little brother. Not unless he was planning on penning mystery novels. She supposed she'd have to wait and see whether the pay-off was worth it before she came to any final conclusions on that score. Still, she was nothing if not a good sport, so she made use of her long-neglected holiday time, set off north on the Thursday morning, and booked herself a room at The Three Broomsticks. And then she waited. Waiting had never been her strong suit, nor was it something she tended to do with anything vaguely resembling grace.
Despite technically being on holiday time, she spent the morning making inventory lists for the apothecary (was it completely pathetic that she could do so mostly based on memory alone, a few ingredients here and there aside?), making note of which ingredients ran out the quickest, which had sat around for so long that they'd have to be gotten rid of anyway, and which suppliers were pissing them around. When that was done, she began listing the potions she'd need to make a start on once she returned, and bemoaned the fact that she hadn't seen fit to pack her portable potion-brewing kit. Nope, instead she'd packed a novel and kidded herself that she'd actually read the damn thing and bloody well relax for the span of a few days. She'd gotten one page into the prologue before she'd abandoned that idea, deeming the hero of the novel and insufferable little ponce who made Draco Malfoy seem endearing.
Her agitation grew as Friday morning turned into Friday afternoon, despite the fact that it had only really just turned the time her brother had oh-so-subtly hinted at. By the time it drew to two o'clock she was already pondering whether Madam Rosmerta would deem her a raging alcoholic if she ordered a firewhisky to go with the lunch she hadn't yet touched to ease her jitters a bit, feeling unbearably cooped up and utterly annoyed. Every time the door opened her head shot up, expecting to see Harry with his two friends in tow, or perhaps nothing at all, heralding their invisibility-cloaked-arrival. But it never was. As two in the afternoon turned to three, she managed to spell Alihotsy wrong twice in a row and was facing the fact that she was in sore need of a stern talking to if less than twenty-four hours of inactivity truly felt so torturous. But then distraction came - and in an entirely unexpected form.
Closing her notebook with a sigh, uncaring that it would smear not yet dried ink across the pages, she leaned her head back, drumming her fingertips against the table impatiently as she closed her eyes. When she opened them, she turned her face towards the window to look for anything…well, anything, only to start at the black nose pressed against the glass at the other side.
"Jesus fuck," she gasped, jostling the table in her fright and sloshing butterbeer across her notebook.
Lovely. Now her notes would be sticky. On the other side of the glass, the dog gave a 'boof' and tilted his head from where he stood with his two front paws against the window. If dogs could laugh, she was sure this one would be laughing at her. Swearing to herself, she began to mop up the mess with her napkin before she remembered that she was a bloody witch and used her wand to clear it all up, chancing a glance around and finding to her relief that nobody seemed to pay much mind to her acting like an absolute tit. Turning her attention back to the dog, she watched as he jumped back a little, brought his paws back to the ground, and sat down, watching her carefully. Using her sleeve, she wiped away the condensation, a move which earned her yet another muffled noise of approval, his tail wagging where he sat outside in the rain.
Well, it was as good a distraction as any. Taking up the still untouched steak bake from the table, she wrapped it in a napkin and then slid out from the table. The moment Heather slipped outside she regretted not bringing her coat with her, the biting wind sneaking up through the sleeves and down the collar of her jumper. The dog remained where he'd been sitting, more or less unmoving other than to stand and turn to her as she stepped outside - that was good, at least, for it was far too cold for her to spend half an hour trying to coax him towards her if he was particularly skittish.
"Come here, boy, come on," she urged, dropping down to her haunches and holding out the pastry.
Apparently he'd been conning patrons out of their lunches successfully for a long time, for he loped towards her with no hesitation - and she realised then just how big he truly was, easily the size of an Irish wolfhound.
"Please don't be vicious," she murmured nervously - the last thing she wanted was to be mauled when the food ran out.
The look he gave her at that was as if he understood the plea - and took personal offense to it, regarding her with a sniff before sitting down calmly once he was within arm's length of her. He regarded the food in her hand, and then her face, as if waiting for the go ahead. She waved it at him and he stepped forward, nudging the back of her hand with his nose before he started eating. The poor thing was starving - wolfing the food down without stopping to chew it at all, and licking the remnants from her hand once it was gone a few seconds later.
"Shit," she sighed, frowning as she cast a scrutinous gaze over his form.
It was difficult to tell at first thanks to his shaggy black fur, but he was thin - alarmingly so. Cold, too, she discovered when she scratched his head with her other hand. He was friendly, though, too friendly to be feral and definitely not skittish enough. Had he been abandoned? There were people who liked to dump their dogs when they got too big, and this was a really bloody big dog. Heather sighed. She couldn't just turn and leave him in the rain, could she? Especially not if he'd sit outside and keep fixing her with that sad look. It was starting to really pelt down, too.
"All right," she sighed "How do we get you inside?"
The dog leant into her head scratches, still watching her quietly. Madam Rosmerta wouldn't take kindly to her leading a stray into her establishment, she didn't have to be a genius to work that one out. Sure, any damage could be undone with the wave of a wand, but fleas wouldn't be quite so easily taken care of. Merlin, she hoped he didn't have fleas.
Regarding the inside of the pub through the window, she took stock of how distracted everybody was. It was fairly busy, with everybody inside mostly gathered on the side of the room opposite to the door. Maybe it would keep Rosmerta distracted, but it also meant if she happened to glance over she'd have a clear line of sight to Heather trying to sneak in a bloody wolf-sized dog into the place. She stood and the dog followed suit, taking a few tentative steps after her as she approached the door.
"No," she shook her head, earning a huff of annoyance.
Just how smart was this bloody thing, anyway?
"Stay," she ordered, and got another huff for her troubles…but he slowly lowered his backside to the ground all the same.
Slipping inside, she paid great mind to how many people turned to glance her way. None did - a perk of how she'd been set up there all day. Normally the red hair brought a glance or two, but apparently twenty-four hours was all it took to become part of the scenery around here. Perfect. Returning to her table, she quickly gathered her things into her satchel, shrugged her coat on as if she was making to leave, and then headed back for the door where she hung around the entranceway. Rosmerta still barely afforded her a glance, caught up in a raucous discussion with one of her patrons. Still, she felt far too exposed.
Sighing, she looked to the door where the dog waited, watching her intently, and then back to the barmaid. And then she slid her wand from her pocket. Later, when people spoke about what happened, she'd feign ignorance and insist she must've just missed the incident - that she had no idea why or how the glasses behind the bar started exploding, and she'd been busy walking to clear her mind. But the fact remained that they did begin exploding, and as everybody shrieked and either ducked for cover or turned towards the source of the noise, she opened the door and urged the dog in.
He moved surprisingly quickly, so he must've been damn well freezing, and her heart lurched as she had to pray he wouldn't make straight for some random table to being scarfing down the food there. But he didn't - he remained eerily smart. Suspiciously smart, actually, and he slunk straight for the stairs that led to the rooms up above. Heather watched, a frown furrowing her brow, especially as he paused only once he was out of sight, turning to regard her as he waited for her to follow. She'd heard of cats there were strangely intelligent - ones that had Gneazle blood in them, but such a thing wasn't possible for dogs, not even just from a cold, hard anatomical standpoint. This dog wasn't part Gneazle. So what, then? Some exceptionally clever form of wolf? Finally she did follow, but she didn't put away her wand.
Once at the top of the stairs, the dog allowed her to slip past him in order for her to lead the way to the room she was staying in. She did just that, unlocked the door, and opened it before stepping aside so he could go in first. The dog did so without hesitation - far too little hesitation, given animals (especially strays) shouldn't be so content to be caged into a strange place without so much as a second glance. Surely the steak bake hadn't been so insanely good as to win her his total trust. Her grip tightened on her wand as she slipped into the room after him and kicked the door shut in her wake so as not to turn her back on the dog.
He padded into the middle of the room until he was beside the hearth, tail wagging as he turned to face her. Then, upon seeing the suspicion laced throughout her posture, his tail slowly stopped wagging. But he didn't growl, nor even bare his teeth. In fact, he seemed to sigh, his head lowering slightly as if in resignation. And then he turned into a man.
A/N: At the beginning of this story we're in the first quarter or so of book four, Heather is twenty but nothing is going to happen between her and Sirius until the events of OOTP, during which she'll be twenty-one - that being said, he's still in his mid-thirties and I get that age gap stuff can be off-putting to people, so if that's the case maybe give this story a miss! I do intend on addressing it and handling it as carefully as I can, and I personally give Sirius a bit more leeway on this score anyway seeing as how it's a whole thing that he's basically stuck mentally in his early twenties seeing as that's how old he was when he was imprisoned, so I don't see the maturity gap as being as much of a thing as it would be for "normal" people in those circumstances. But I get that it's not for everybody, no hard feelings!
