The dog loped joyfully up the slope when the Boy called. His trepidation had been gradually eroded with each visit the Boy paid him. He knew himself now. Padfoot. He was Padfoot, and the Boy who had given him a name had come again.
This time the Boy coaxed him out of the trees, luring him with a thrown stick farther and farther away from his hidey-hole beneath the log. It made Padfoot uncomfortable to be this close to the last of the sheltering trunks. He could see a vast, gray expanse stretching out as he peered through the scraggly bushes that squatted beneath the heavy branches of the oaks growing along the edge of the woods.
"Come on, Padfoot," the Boy urged. "Come into the meadow. I want to show you something."
Padfoot whined. There was nothing to see out there. The sky was dark, the land was empty, and he was afraid.
"Please." The Boy knelt in front of him, cupping Padfoot's face in his hands and sliding strong, warm fingers behind his ears in a soothing caress. "Trust me."
Padfoot turned his head to lick one of the Boy's hands in a show of loyal devotion.
Abruptly, the Boy stood and grinned down at Padfoot. "Chase me!"
Instinctively, Padfoot lurched on point, watching the Boy race away, and without another thought he flew after him. The rushing air blew back his thick fur, and the heady thrill of the chase made Padfoot's senses come alive. The scent of the chill night breeze and the rich loam of the earth as his paws tore through the grass engulfed him. He could smell the Boy's scent now, as well, familiar and safe, yet intoxicating. It meant warmth, food, shelter, love.
He could hear the scuttle and buzz of insects and the hooting of owls. The Boy's labored breath as he dodged this way and that, looking over his shoulder with a wild grin, reached Padfoot's pricked ears. Letting out several loud yips, Padfoot raced after him until he was able to leap forward and tumble the Boy to the ground. He claimed victory with broad swipes of tongue over the Boy's laughing face.
"Enough, you daft mutt." The Boy rolled away and sat up, slinging an arm over Padfoot's back and pointing up at the sky. "I want to show you something."
The Boy stroked Padfoot's flank as they both looked up. The sky was still dark and empty and Padfoot whined, crouching down and lowering his face against the ground.
"No, please. Look. Can you see them? The stars. Look, Padfoot. The sky is full of them."
The Boy couldn't be disobeyed, no matter what Padfoot felt, so he raised his head and looked, pressing closer to the Boy's solid warmth.
"See what I see."
The sky seemed to grow inkier and Padfoot trembled, but then, pinpricks of light began to dot the darkness one by one, then faster and faster until the whole cloth of the heavens was filled with the glittering points of light. They were so familiar. The stars. Padfoot remembered them now. How could he have forgotten? A strange sense of anticipation made his fur stand on end.
"You see it don't you?" The Boy squeezed him hard enough to make Padfoot wheeze. "You really do." He pointed up again and spoke in a low, fervent voice. "There. That one. The brightest one in the sky. That's you."
On his knees, the Boy faced him. "That's you. Sirius." His voice broke a little. "You're Sirius. Do you remember?"
Again, Padfoot's hide shivered from that galvanic anticipation. He met the Boy's gaze without wavering, trying to understand the words, but feeling overwhelmed by the waves of emotion he could sense rolling off him. Hope. Desperation. Love.
"Padfoot. Please." The Boy's aching voice created an answering need in Padfoot. He met it the only way he knew how, pressing up against the Boy to offer touch and warmth. "Please. I need you to remember. Be Sirius again." And the Boy said the magic words. "For me."
The air seemed to shimmer for a moment, then Padfoot flowed and shifted into a pale, long-haired boy, wrapped in a tattered black robe. The Boy sobbed, holding him impossibly tight. "Sirius! Oh, God. You-" The Boy's breath hitched as he began to cry in earnest.
With a sense of wonder, Sirius raised his cold fingers and touched the shining, wet trails marking the Boy's cheeks. He opened his mouth. Did he have a voice? The Boy stared at him as Sirius used his thumbs to brush away fat tears, and Sirius took a deep breath. "Sirius," he whispered, his voice quiet but sure. "I'm Sirius."
"Yes!" The Boy took great gulping breaths of air, nodding fiercely. His face was lit with a wild joy. "You are. You're Sirius."
Sirius nodded thoughtfully, lips parted to taste the air between them, then his eyes widened and he leant forward eagerly.
"Who are you?"