Hagrid stepped into the station, ignoring the people who were starring at him with wide eyes and open mouths. It wasn't just his large size, or his getting confused at the crossroads and nearly getting run over by a car (though no one noticed him hold it back with one hand), that made them stare. The large quarry in his arms contributed greatly to this unwanted attention.
Mopping his balaclava with his rabbit-fur glove, Hagrid made his way easily through the snow that most people were trudging through, some cursing as they stopped to pull out their ankles. He laid his quarry—half a roe deer—on the raised spot in front of the station, and the dog already there ran up to him, tail wagging.
"Alrigh' there boy?" Hagrid asked, sitting down and scratching his beard. The dog ignored him, its affection reserved for the quarry. He crouched beside Hagrid, sniffed the deer's belly (which was cut throat-to-tail) pulled back the seam, and sniffed it. He turned back to Hagrid, head titled and muzzle tight in a scowl as if to say is this thing poisoned? Hagrid chuckled a bit, patting the dog's shoulder hard enough to push him to the snowy ground.
"I didn' tamper with that doe boy. Well, other than set uppa trap and shoot it when it got stuck, but…well anyway, it's all clean meat. I never tainted it before an' I'm not about ter start. Dig in!"
The dog tilted its head the other way. But after a good long stare his face relaxed and turned back towards the dead deer. Seconds later every up to his chest was inside, and Hagrid heard the sounds of ripping and chewing jaws at work. He chuckled and scratched his beard, throwing comically dark looks at the people who were staring at him, before they noticed him looking back and tried feebly to focus on something else.
"Dunno how yeh stand living mongst these muggles boy," he sighed. "I mean, nothing agains' 'em of anything, but they dunno 'ow to live, or 'ow to behave."
The dog grunted between a snapping of bones.
Hagrid sat up. "Well, guess I better be off. Hogwarts duties ter be attendin' ter y'know, or don't I suppose. This should last yeh a few days; yeh can get yer our food till then. Well, by boy."
And so he got up and walked out of the station. The dog hadn't even pulled his head out from his meal's stomach.
Once his belly was no longer grumbling and he felt much happier, Sirius pulled his head back and stared around him. He snorted. People as usual walked by, some looking down at him to mumble some words, most avoiding him by a large distance (in a former state of mind, he would've realized the deer carcass was turning them off). It didn't matter though; he didn't pay much attention to them anyway. At least, not in the sense that he cared: he'd look over and sniff each one, but when he quickly knew that they weren't James, he'd ignore them and examine the next person. He'd become an excellent examiner, though he produced no positive results.
The clock struck five. A whistle blew. But before either of them had set off, Sirius's spine tingled. It was time. He sat up straight and wagged his tail, and as he did so, the train pulled into the station.
He thrust his tail harder and sniffed eagerly as people spilled through the doors. As the folks before, most gave him and his food a wide birth, though some rather familiar-smelling ones stopped to pat him on the head. As per usual, he ignored them, peering through their fingers for a familiar face, for that strong comforting smell.
It didn't come. Once the last person has left the station, the train began to roar and rumbled out of the station.
Sirius sighed and rested his chin on his paws. Where was James?
He didn't know why his master had stopped coming. Had he done something wrong? Was he being punished for stepping over the line one too many times? Had he peed in the house or bared his teeth at another person or knocked Harry over, something that had deemed him (he drew back his ears in shame) a bad dog?
He sighed again and curled into a tighter ball. The snow was beginning to upset him, but he'd wait it out. If it took days or weeks or another hundred years or more—whatever they were; he couldn't measure time—he would wait.
Night fell and the snow rained down in thick quantities and he stood up and left the station. He couldn't possibly know that, of those hundred years or more he was willing to spend waiting, he had already waited for two.
He was fighting hard against the snow packed high against the ground as he reached his destination much later, at what he didn't know was midnight. The ruined house at Godric's Hollow was the same as it had ever been, even when it was almost lost under the packs of cold white stuff. Sirius rolled around in his favorite spot, ignoring the snow clinging to his flanks. The patch revealed some ruined sheets and pillows which had once belonged to the main bedroom. He flopped onto them and sighed; he could still smell his friend through all the debris.
Sirius closed his eyes, but his mind whirred. Images, many of which he didn't understand, flashed through his closed lids. Of a small ratty kid, of a peaky teen with light brown hair, a girl with flowing red locks who turned into a old stern-looking witch with square specs. And of course, flickering through all of them, was a teen—and then a young man—with messy black hair, hazel eyes, and a grin on his face.
Sirius licked his lips and pulled a worn teddy bear towards him. Tomorrow he would go back to the station and wait for James. Maybe this time he would be there.
