time. afternoon, december 24th. place. hogsmeade –– the tonks house. ( @tmtonks )
The sights and sounds of Hogsmeade town should bring more relief than they do. His soul and body are weary things, and even as padfoot he can’t ignore the aches and pains, the hunger, the fact that he still isn’t really out of danger. He isn’t home yet, and isn’t free. With his limping gait, every safe place he can think of seems very far away, but he keeps moving forward. He can be tired when he’s dead, after all.
The Potter House looms at the end of the street when he finally gets close, and then he starts to feel the excitement settle in. Almost. Almost, just a little farther. The beloved door, the tenderly constructed frame, the promise of a friend inside. He doesn’t even stop to consider that the house might be empty, that they may not be home. He believes, as he always does, that James or Lily will be there for him when he needs them.
Ignoring the pain in his back right paw, he leaps up to scratch at the door. Little doggy knocks, and he barks as loudly has he’s able. One woof after the next, growing in desperation with every passing moment. Eventually, he cuts off with a whine, head moving forward to butt against the chilly wood.
It’s durning his moment of rest that he hears it, the sound from nearby. Andromeda’s house. The back garden. Harry’s voice, the familiar sound of it. Padfoot?! James had said it recently enought, that every time Harry heard a dog he thought it might be Sirius coming to visit. He sets off again in a scrambling run, through a hedge and into the familiar terrain of Andromeda’s garden. It’s snow laden and beautiful, and Harry is standing bundled up with his stuffed animal, amongst a small army of little snowmen. Sirius tramples a handful of them in his rush to get to Harry, to allow the boy to throw arms around his neck, to snuffle little licks across his face. He feels the relief of it settle in. Harry. Home.
Things turn quickly, as they so often do with children Harry’s age. He notices Sirius’ injured leg quickly, his eyes filling with tears quickly. Sirius whines, softly, but he can’t transform to offer any soothing words. And Harry is away like a flash, toward the back door of the house, calling for Ted through his distraught tears. Sirius lets the exhaustion settle in, huffs and lays down on the snow, and listens as Harry shouts in nearly incomprehensible words about Padfoot being hurt.
