Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or this world and my laptop kind of smells like burning, which is really unsettling.
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Chapter 3
Harry smiled at the brush of warm air and looked down at the dog, "Well, I guess it's just you and me now."
Harry tightened his grip carefully on the injured dog and walked back up the corridor to the tower.
He thought about returning to his room, seeing if Ron or Hermione were around, or any of his other friends. But he didn't really want to talk about the war, or Quidditch, or school, or the future, or anything at all.
Taking a left at a large painting of blue sheep grazing on a red field, he walked to the Owlery.
The Owlery had received some damage in the fight, stones in the wall having tumbled out of place, but as long as he stayed away from the edge, Harry and the dog would be fine.
He found a large stone that had rolled close to the wall, and settled down. It was early afternoon already and the sun warmed the small, close area. Harry leaned against the wall, enjoying the heat radiating off of the old rocks, and cuddled the dog to his chest.
Staring out at the endless blue sky framed by the broken wall, Harry smiled.
The dog looked at him quietly, and then laid its head down on its paws.
Harry looked down at the animal, "You've gotten a lot friendlier since I found you. I guess it was the food. Having a full stomach makes the world seem like a much nicer place. At least that's how it always worked for me."
The puppy growled lightly, licking its chops. Harry smiled and pulled a scrap of toast out of his pocket. It was a habit of his to squirrel away a little food from the overfull tables, things that wouldn't go bad or make too much mess.
The dog took the toast daintily and Harry felt the light prickle of its whiskers against his fingertips.
"I'm not sure if I have the right to name you, but no one else is here, so I think I'd like to call you… Blackie."
Blackie looked up at Harry, his muzzle bristled with toast crumbs.
"It isn't a fancy name, but I like the way it sounds."
Using a paw to brush off the prickly crumbs, the dog barked once, seemingly in agreement then looked up at Harry.
"What?"
Blackie pressed one paw against Harry's hand, where it lay on his thigh, then looked at his face again.
"Did you want to go somewhere?"
The dog shook its head slowly.
"What do you want?"
At that the dog's ears perked up and it moved slowly, rising to its hind feet on Harry's lap with its front paws pressed against his chest.
Harry raised his hands to support the dog and move him back down, but Blackie refused to budge, taking the opportunity Harry provided by holding him up to move his paws until they were pressed against Harry's cheeks.
Suddenly Harry found himself locked in a staring contest with a mangy black puppy that had toast crumbs in its fur.
"Blackie, what are you doing," Harry asked, trying to move the paws off of his face.
The dog leaned in until its cool nose was pressed against Harry's own and Harry smiled reflexively, staring deep into the shining black eyes of the puppy.
Smiling slightly, Harry said, "Is this what you wanted, Blackie? A staring contest?"
The dog sighed. Harry smelled sausage and wrinkled his nose, forcefully pushing the dog back and setting him on his lap again.
"No more staring contests until you brush your teeth mate."
The dog huffed an offended sounding breath. Harry scratched his head and watched as the dog's eyes slowly fell shut and its body became limp and heavy.
Staring out at the sky, he muttered, "What do you want, Blackie? Probably the same things I want, the same things everybody wants, right? A home, roof over your head and food on the table, and someone to love you. That's all you need, really."
Scratching the dog's head to the rhythm of its deep even breaths Harry felt his own eyes drift closed and he fell asleep with a smile on his face for the first time in weeks.
When Harry woke up a few hours later the sun had passed by the window and sunk below the horizon line.
It wasn't night yet, but the day was gone, and so was the dog.
Harry's lap was still warm, so he reasoned that the dog only recently left, and the animal was still injured, so he couldn't have gotten far.
Sitting upright, he stretched his back carefully, then stood and did the same for his legs. The stone chair had been so comfortable hours before, but now he was paying the price for having fallen asleep in sore muscles and numb legs.
Walking slowly, one hand on the wall to keep his balance, Harry called out, "Blackie? Blackie, where are you?"
Over the sound of his stomach's grumbling, Harry heard a muted growl.
Following the sound he heard voices, lowered but still intent.
"Make him jump! Do it!"
Another voice, "Is he going to cry? Poor little mite."
Raucous laughter followed.
Harry rounded the corner, ready to confront whoever was threatening his dog when he saw three fourth years, their wands drawn on a pale and shaking Draco Malfoy.
"Wha—"
His question was cut off by the boy in the front.
"Harry? I can't believe you're here, and with good timing too. We're going to punish this Slytherin traitor."
Harry heard the glee in the boy's voice and recognized him as the one who had spoken earlier.
A low growling caught his ear and Harry looked down to see the little black puppy standing between Malfoy and the three boys, his hackles raised and lips drawn back over sharp shining teeth.
"Harry?"
Draco had been looking down, staring at the dog, or the floor, or off into a shadow somewhere, but when he heard Harry's name his head popped up and a light came into his eyes that slowly died again as Harry just stood there silently.
The three boys, Ravenclaws by the badges on their robes, seemed unnerved as well.
"Don't you want to torture him, Harry? He's a Death Eater. Show us your mark Death Eater," the boy said, waving his wand at the Slytherin.
The puppy lunged forward, jumping and snapping at the end of the wand. When he couldn't reach it he dove under the boy's robes and soon the hall echoed with the sound of a cut-off scream.
The dog wandered back out from under the voluminous robes with a scrap of blood-stained fabric in his mouth and an expression of disgust on his black-furred face. Walking over to Harry, the puppy dropped the fabric at his feet, and then walked back to Draco, rubbing gently against his ankles in a cat-like fashion.
The five boys watched this performance in stunned silence, and then the lead Ravenclaw shot a sneer at Draco and Harry both before turning in a crippled swirl of robes and limping down the hall, his two cronies at his heels.
Harry turned to Draco to say something funny or poignant or nostalgic, but his mouth just hung open and silent as he saw the blond boy crumple in on himself on the floor and begin to cry.
Harry took a few steps forward and Blackie looked up from his position now in Draco's arms to stare blankly at Harry.
Taking that as a cue, Harry settled on the floor next to, but not touching, the Slytherin.
"Are you… Are you okay?"
Draco sniffled heavily and Harry reached into his trouser pocket for a handkerchief. Finding one he offered it silently. Draco accepted the light blue fabric with a nod of his head, face buried in Blackie's dark furred back.
The dog whined softly, twisting its head and licking at Draco's ear and whatever else it could reach.
After a few minutes Harry heard the sniffles lighten, then stop. He aimed his wand at the Slytherin and whispered a few charms to sooth his eyes that were by now probably red and sore.
Looking up, his eyes clear, Draco handed the handkerchief, cleaned, back to Harry, then stood and brushed the dust of the floor off of his robes. He set the dog on the floor carefully, minding its bandaged stomach.
Harry watched Draco resettled the faded folds of his robe and gather his dignity around him like a cloak before nodding briskly at Harry, smiling at the dog, and walking past him and into the Owlery, spine straight and nose in the air.
Harry watched him go for a few minutes before turning to the dog. "What was that about, you think?"
The dog arched a furry brow at Harry, then curled up on the floor, yawning widely.
"You're right. Probably none of our business. Hungry?"
The dog's muzzle snapped shut with an audible click as he stood up, wagging his tail.
"Thought so," Harry said and led the dog to a certain painting of a certain pear.
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Note: For some reason I am big on the Draco torture lately, I don't know. I have always been a big fan of the angst stories, as long as they end happily, so I suppose I write what I like to read, angst with a happy ending. This one is a ghost story, and if you haven't seen the inspiration I won't say anything until the last chapter. I'm not sure when the update will be up as this chapter marks the last of my pre-written chaps, but we will see. I have some time off coming so I have more time to write.
Okay, I have to register a complaint here. I want reviews, and more than that I need reviews. I appreciate every review I have gotten, but this story hasn't gotten a great response and since I don't have any more pre-written chapters I need that push to keep the muse going.
So review. If you want to read more I need you to review.