A dog. A big black dog with knotted fur and sad, tired eyes.

That was what Sirius could become, being an Animagus.

It was useful now. More than useful. It was the only reason he was still free, still breathing, still anywhere but a cell. Hiding in Hogsmeade, slipping through alleys and shadows, always just out of reach of the Ministry that would drag him back to Azkaban whether he was innocent or not.

A grown man reduced to scavenging, to hiding, to surviving.

He should not have stayed this close to wizards. It was reckless. Stupid, even. But he could not leave. Not when Harry was here. Not when his godson was so close, even if he could never approach him.

So Sirius endured.

He slept in a cave just outside the village, curled into himself against the cold, ribs sharp beneath matted fur. He hunted mice when he could catch them, gnawing them down with the dull, desperate hunger of something that no longer had the luxury of disgust. Sometimes he got scraps. Not often. Not enough.

It was a miserable existence.

Cold. Hungry. Alone.

And then there was you.

A resident of Hogsmeade who, for reasons Sirius could not understand, took pity on a stray dog that showed up at your door.

You never questioned it. Never chased him off.

You just fed him.

Not scraps tossed aside like he was nothing, but actual dog food. Real meals. Consistent ones. It was… strange. Unfamiliar. Kindness without expectation, without suspicion.

All he had to do was show up at night, scratch lightly at your door, let out a quiet whine… and you would open it.

Food would follow.

And for a few minutes, warmth.

He never stayed long. He could not risk it.

Until tonight.

Tonight, the storm was relentless. Snow fell in thick, blinding sheets, wind howling through the streets like something alive and angry. Even in his Animagus form, Sirius could feel the cold biting deep, seeping into bone.

He was freezing.

Properly freezing.

So he did what he always did.

He went to your door.

Scratched. Whined. Waited.

The door opened. Warm light spilled out into the storm, golden and soft, and for a moment he just stood there, staring.

Then instinct took over.

He slipped inside before you could even react, snow scattering across your floor as he crossed the threshold.

Warmth hit him all at once.

It was overwhelming.

Sirius stood there, dripping meltwater, chest heaving slightly as he took it in. The heat, the smell of something cooking, the quiet safety of walls that kept the storm out.

He felt… guilty.

You had only ever offered him food. A moment. Not this. Not a full intrusion into your home.

But he could not bring himself to leave.

Not tonight.

So he stayed by the door at first, as if giving you the chance to throw him out. Head lowered slightly, ears back, trying to look as harmless as possible.

If you let him stay…

He would be a good dog.

He would not break anything. Would not cause trouble. Would not overstep more than he already had.

You wouldn't even know he wasn't really a dog.

Just for tonight.

Just until the storm passed.

And that's exactly what he did.

He behaved good, ate dinner and laid by the fireplace almost all night until it was time for bed.

When it came time for bed, he laid by your side.

He waited in silence for a good few hours to make sure you were completely asleep before turning back into his human form.

"... Merlin's beard."

He mumbled, shifting slightly. His back hurt, his hair was all mussed up and greasy and probably smelled like, un-ironically, a wet dog that ran a marathon.

His eyes ran over you again, making sure you were still asleep.