Fic: A New Pet (Part 2/4)

 

Title: A New Pet
Written for the Padfooted Challenge. Slash scenario #9 as requested by nopejr.
Length: 21,000 words
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe and make no money from this story.
Summary: Collars. Draco. A new pet. (Draco/Padfoot; Harry/Sirius/Draco; Harry/Padfoot/Draco.)
Acknowledgements: Thanks to cordelia_v for the beta! Mistakes that may remain are mine alone.

 

A New Pet, Part Two

"So, are we in a better mood this morning, Loki?" asked Draco in bright tones as he strolled into the dungeon cell the next morning. "Potter doesn't appear to have realised yet that you've gone missing, more's the pity. I suppose you two weren't as... close... as I had suspected, eh? I should have known Potter was as vanilla as ice cream. But you... had more than your fair share of boyfriends, haven't you, now? You've been a bit of a slut, in fact. Well, you'll have to get used to limiting yourself to one partner, now, but you can't tell me that any of the rest of my plans will shock you unduly. I know full well you must have taken advantage of your animagus form to experiment with... doggy-style, shall we say."

A night without food, water, or much rest hadn't improved Padfoot's temper, but it had given him time to consider his strategy. He couldn't transform any more than he could break the leash or collar holding him captive, so his only real chance to escape depended on catching Malfoy off-guard. It meant acting the part of the loyal pet for a time... might even mean acceding to the brat's horribly unsubtle sexual plans, but the rewards would be worth the sacrifice. 

Voldemort wasn't the only evil git who was going to find one of his arsecheeks gnawed clean off.

"What, nothing to say?" taunted Draco. 

Padfoot barked once, and wagged his tail.

"Oh, that's a bit much to swallow this early in the game." Draco circled the large dog, staying carefully out of attack range. "You think I'm stupid, Loki? But that always was the problem with Potter and his sycophants. You all thought I was less than I was. But I fooled you all, didn't I? What Severus Snape accomplished is nothing to what I did. He had to take the Mark in order to spy on Voldemort, and even then, he could only observe that which he was permitted to observe. And he had to put up with Voldemort in the flesh, with all that implies. It's rather astounding you all could think I was so foolish as to follow in his dubious footsteps, but I suppose that goes back to your own dismal level of intelligence." Draco laughed. "Order of the Phoenix, indeed. If not for me, the lot of you would all be dead or worse by now. Slayer of Voldemort... Ha. I was the one who won the war. I got Potter close enough to strike. But you all begrudge me my fame and wealth, I know you do. If not for that contract binding Potter to make the rest of you behave, you'd have tossed me to the Basilisks." 

Stopping suddenly, Draco took a moment to regard the large dog, who was still wagging his tail.

"Hmm, well this could be amusing, I suppose." Draco curled his lips. "Let's see how long your good-doggy act lasts, shall we? I suppose you know all the standard tricks. Obedience training is ever so much more simpler when a dog knows English. So.... roll over on your back, then."

Padfoot dropped to the stone floor and rolled, holding his paws bent and in the air as he turned his head to keep an eye on Draco. The position was vulnerable, and he was all-too-aware that Malfoy might have ordered it just in order to hurt him.

But all Draco did was watch, his silver eyes assessing everything.

"Good boy, Loki," he finally said, and tossed something into the air above him.

Padfoot flinched and spun onto his feet again, expecting a hex to come raining down.

But it was a dog biscuit, and not the Muggle kind, either. This was rich with meat and flesh charmed to stay fresh. Padfoot wolfed it down, looking up expectantly and wagging his tail again.

"Oh, interesting," breathed Draco. "You want another, I expect. Well, roll over on your back again--"

Before he'd even finished the command, Padfoot was in position, tongue hanging out.

"Eager." This time Draco didn't throw the biscuit. He stepped forward instead, doggy treat in hand. "You'll behave yourself if you want this," he cautioned. "No nipping, not even a growl. You're still collared and leashed, you know, and the house-elves have strict orders to leave your fate entirely to me. Nobody else is going to feed you, Loki, or give you so much as a drop to drink. Bite me and you'll have to wait until I'm feeling charitable, which could be a long, long time. Get me angry enough and I'll have you fixed."

Padfoot went still, considering that.

"Mmm, upped the odds a bit, didn't I? You weren't expecting that... well, it just goes back to the idea that you're not nearly as smart as you think you are. Yes, you'll be a good doggy now, won't you?"

Draco grinned in a way that showed off every one of his straight, white, perfect teeth.

* * *

At first, all Padfoot had wanted was for the Malfoy brat to get within mauling range. Draco's threats changed all that. Being deprived of food and water, after all, wasn't going to help him stay alert to watch for any chance to escape. And being fixed... well, that obviously wasn't in the cards, either.

So Padfoot bided his time, and played the role of pet. At first, it wasn't terribly daunting. Sit up, roll over, beg... just as Draco had promised, Padfoot became a good little pet. He even wagged his tail and sort of bounced whenever his master entered the room.

It wasn't long before Draco got close enough for Padfoot to bite. He even started feeding him by hand, those long pale fingers holding out one of those delicious dog biscuits.

So tempting, to take the brat's hand right off his wrist.

Tempting, but out of the question.

His life became a routine revolving around Draco's frequent visits, the confines of his world reduced to four stone walls, one small window, and one out-of-reach door. After years in Azkaban, it should have all been familiar, but it wasn't. His time behind the Veil had healed him, somehow... but this new incarceration was beginning to turn his mind towards a dark place.

A place he'd never thought he'd dwell in, again.

He had no news of the outside world, save that which the Malfoy brat chose to share with him, which at first meant he had none at all. One day blurred into the next, an unending vista of boredom interspersed with bouts of food and tricks. Draco was his only social contact, his sole source of entertainment, as it were, in the midst of his bleak existence.

Padfoot actually began looking forward to the Malfoy brat's visits.

Stockholm syndrome, he told himself when he was alone, his head pillowed atop his large paws. Unlike in Azkaban, when he'd sunk so far into his canine form that he'd gone months without entertaining a single human thought, here he could still function as a man. Mentally, at least. His memories and intellect were entirely intact. Perhaps they would fade in time; he didn't know. Or perhaps it was a function of the Malfoy brat's charmed collar, the one that was keeping him from transforming back into Sirius Black.

Draco wanted him aware, Padfoot thought.

Why else would he begin, after those first few days, bringing the Prophet and the Quibbler into Padfoot's cell? Draco read at loud to him. At first, articles detailing his disappearance. Articles which recounted the honourable war record of Sirius Black. Articles which, much to Padfoot's disgust, invariably mentioned Draco.

Then came the offers of reward.

Then, an exposé of a ring of dark wizards who had tried to claim they'd kidnapped Sirius Black and were holding him for ransom. Harry had found a way to track them and had gone in like the Auror he was, wand blazing... The Boy-Who-Lived to the Rescue!!! read the headline.

But of course Sirius was not rescued, though Harry did apprehend every last wizard involved in the fraud.

Padfoot would have thought that article would be enough to show Draco what a dangerous game this was. Harry would come for him. It might take weeks. Months. Years.

But Harry would never give up.

Sooner or later, he'd find a way to locate Padfoot, and then Draco would rue the day he was born.

Surely the Malfoy brat knew that. He must have.

All Padfoot could think was that Draco Malfoy had to be half-mad.

Or completely mad, perhaps. Certainly, he was not in his right mind at all if he really believed that Harry was going to let a piece of paper hold him back. That ownership certificate would be worthless in the face of the raw, magical power that lived inside Harry.

Harry, who could be the next Dark Lord if he chose. A darker lord than the world had ever seen before... for no one, not Voldemort, not Grindelwald, had power such as Harry Potter possessed.

Harry didn't want to indulge dreams of world domination, which was just as well. But he would want Sirius Black safe.

And that knowledge, really, was what helped Padfoot continue day to day, struggling to be a good doggy as Malfoy wanted.

Until, one day, Malfoy suddenly wanted more.

* * *

Draco had alluded to his true desires, of course, early on.

But then he'd ceased all innuendo and had begun to treat Padfoot simply as his pet. A pet he read to. A pet he talked to almost constantly, which made Padfoot realize, for the first time, how lonely Draco Malfoy must be. He was rich and blond and quite strikingly attractive, but it seemed he had no confidante save a dog.

A captured, unwilling dog, at that.

In other circumstances, Padfoot might have felt some compassion.

Indeed, he might even have felt some compassion in this circumstance, had things gone on as they were. But all that changed one morning when the Malfoy brat entered Padfoot's cell wearing nothing but a silken dressing gown and equally decadent slippers.

He sat down on the wing backed chair where he usually held court with Padfoot, but instead of leaning back and crossing his ankles on the footstool, this time he scooted his arse to the edge and spread his legs wide.

Dark silk flowed away from his thighs to reveal what the fabric had hidden.

An erection, the veins dark and throbbing, bollocks tense beneath a nice, thick cock.

Padfoot could appreciate a nice cock, of course. Harry had quite a nice one. Nicer than this one, in fact, but Malfoy's wasn't half bad. In other circumstances, Padfoot wouldn't mind licking it, as was obviously the idea. Merlin knew, he'd spent enough time crouched before Harry's spread legs. Harry, who liked to say that there was really nothing like an enormous, strong tongue wrapped all the way around your cock.

"Well, Loki?" prompted Draco, his cock bouncing slightly as he shifted his hips suggestively forward. "I'm sure you know what to do."

Whining, Padfoot barked twice.

"Liar," accused the Slytherin man. "Potter's sexual tastes may be as plain as béchamel, but then he's Harry Potter, isn't he? You can't tell me you haven't... experimented before this, with what a dog can get up to in bed. Now come bring me off and make it good."

A drop of pre-come glistened at the tip of Draco's cock. Pale, slightly creamy... Padfoot could smell it from where he sat crouched. He started salivating. It had been a long time, after all, and trapped as he was with paws instead of hands, he had no hope of seeing to his own satisfaction. He'd been feeling a bit frisky of late, and the sight of that gorgeous cock--not as good as Harry's, of course, but still damned delicious looking--wasn't helping. 

His balls tightened in anticipation, his prick stirring to life at the sight of that long, beautiful cock just bulging with good things for him...

"You know," Draco said with a sly little smile curling his lips, "you look a bit... intrigued, shall we say. A dog can't really hide such things. Good-sized cock you've got there, yourself. I know you're used to regular sex, Loki. You're just that type. And it's been how long?"

Draco stroked himself as he continued talking, milking more pre-come from his slit. "I know what you're thinking. The whimpering gives it away, Loki. You're worried that you'll never get to shoot your load, ever again. And that would be so very easy to arrange... but I told you, didn't I, that I don't mistreat my pets? If you're good enough to me for... oh, a few months, we'll say, I'll get you a nice furry bitch to fuck. Won't that be nice?" 

Padfoot whimpered, just as Malfoy had said.

"Oh, I know," Draco said, reaching out his other hand to pet the dog who had crept ever closer to his cock. "You'd rather be a man again, and have another man to fuck. Or perhaps you like to take it? I warrant Potter doesn't know about your predilections or he'd not be searching high and low for you. Straight as an arrow... what a sanctimonious prick. But as for you... you're never going to be a man again. You'll come as a dog or not at all, and a bitch is all you'll ever have to fuck." Draco gave a dry laugh, even as he scratched behind Padfoot's ears. "You've had women before; I know you have. I'll pick you a pretty little bitch, I promise you."

As always happened when he spent much time in his canine form, Padfoot could think simultaneously like man and dog. And the picture Malfoy painted was appealing, there was no doubt about that. The longer he thought on it, the more he liked it.

Well, he always had had highly flexible preferences.

"Thick glossy coat and big wide eyes as she barks and begs you to take her..." whispered Draco, smiling.

Padfoot lunged forward, mouth agape, the image too much for him to withstand. 

Draco didn't so much as flinch, which rather irritated Padfoot. He didn't like to be predictable. 

He quickly put that thought from his mind, though, and set to work. He started the way Harry liked it, his long, rough tongue reaching around to lick the back of the Malfoy's balls. One thorough swipe, slowly teasing the tense flesh, then two, then three. Malfoy shivered, and moved his hands to grip the arms of the chair.

Nuzzling his snout in deeper, Padfoot thrust his tongue between Malfoy's arsecheeks, then, and lapped for all he was worth.

His reward was a long, deep groan, Malfoy shifting his hips forward to facilitate the dog's access.

"Oh yeah," he panted, his voice rough. "Yeah... yeah! I knew you'd be good at this, slut that you are. I bet you've done exactly this with every boyfriend you've had, eh?"

Padfoot merely growled in answer, then backed up slightly and lapped up the puddle of pre-come that was by then pooling on Malfoy's rippling abdomen.

Unexpectedly then, the Malfoy brat reached out a hand and caught him by the scruff of the neck. "No teeth," he moaned, shaking Padfoot slightly. "Not one tooth. Or I'll have you fixed, I swear."

Padfoot barked once.

"I mean it, you hound-"

Again, Padfoot barked once.

Draco relaxed. "Yes, you want your bitch, don't you? I can tell. And you don't want those dogballs lopped clean off, so... go on, then, Loki. What are you waiting for?"

Moving in closer, Padfoot licked the man's cock from base to tip, base to tip, base to tip... setting up a steady rhythm that made Malfoy start thrusting his hips in tempo to the hot, wet licks. "Yes," he moaned, throwing his head back. "Oh, fuck yes. You're good, Loki, so good."

Yes, I am, Padfoot thought with more than a little pride. Harry's a lucky man.

Arching his jaws wide, he thrust his jaws around that cock, and lightly pressed down. No teeth--though come to think of it, Harry often liked just a touch of tooth...

Malfoy, as it turned out, did well enough without. One smooth compression of heated flesh upon his straining cock, and he exploded, grabbing Padfoot by the ears as he came, screaming.

Screaming Harry's name.

Well, that was certainly unexpected, Padfoot thought. Not the sudden hush of warm, sticky fluid, of course. It tasted.... good. Not like Harry, but good.

But the name... that would bear some thinking about.

"Good boy," Draco panted, breathing through his nose, his mouth hanging open, his tongue lolling out much as if he were the dog. Padfoot wanted to laugh, but since dogs can't, he barked instead.

Ten times in a row.

"Oh, Loki," groaned Draco finally. "I forgot about you for a second. Don't worry, though; I've something nice for you."

Padfoot jerked his head up and down, bouncing on the pads of his feet, excited. A nice furry little bitch like he'd been promised, he thought, forgetting that that had been promised for months hence. A sweet little bitch with golden hair and silver eyes who would spread her back legs and wiggle enticingly and stretch her neck and howl when Padfoot sank his prick all the way to the balls...

But the something nice wasn't a female dog, more's the pity.

"Here you go, Loki," murmured Draco, brandishing his wand. He thrust it back and forth in a jutting motion, one that made Padfoot's problem all the worse. Suddenly he wasn't itching for a bitch to thrust into--though that would be quite nice--but something else. He wanted a hot mouth surrounding his prick, a tongue licking and teasing him. 

Malfoy's mouth. Malfoy's tongue. And Padfoot thrusting madly away while Malfoy choked on dogcock. 

The shaggy black dog felt his balls contract just thinking about it.

A golden plate appeared in Draco's free hand, and then upon it, a bloody steak. Tenderloin, most likely. It smelled divine, but it wasn't what Padfoot wanted. Not even close.

And Malfoy knew it.

"You have to earn a bitch, you know." Draco smiled, his eyes half-closed. "I will say that was a good start though, Loki. I think I'll start every morning this way, and have you service me at night sometimes, as well. I'll expect you to make it last a bit longer next time. That was enjoyable, but brief. Three, four months of that, and you'll have that bitch I promised."

The golden plate made a clanking noise as Draco set it on the stone floor. "A real dog, though. No animagus. Maybe she'll birth me a litter of nice pups and I'll give one to Potter to console him." Draco yawned. "Or maybe not. Can you get a bitch pregnant, Loki? Not sure how real a dog you are, but I suppose we'll find out. I'll kennel her down here with you so you can fuck her to your heart's content... assuming, of course, you continue to keep me fully satisfied."

Padfoot lay his head down on his paws and closed his eyes.

"No sulking, Loki," chided Draco. "You'll get used to things. Now, eat your steak... no? Well, I'll leave it here for you. See you this evening, Loki."

Padfoot opened his eyes then and tried to glare.

Malfoy only laughed. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. You loved it; I know you did." Bending down, he gave the large dog an affectionate pat. "And so did I. I'm going to quite like having a pet."

The door clanged shut, leaving Padfoot trapped by leash and collar. As always.

* * *

After that day, the routine that made up Padfoot's life included daily--or sometimes twice-daily--bouts of sex.

Not that Padfoot ever got any. The Malfoy brat wouldn't even jerk him off, though it wasn't lost on him just how desperately in need of release Padfoot was. He frequently admired Padfoot's straining dogprick, as he put it.

But never once did he touch it. No matter that Padfoot had just spent a solid half-hour pleasuring him... had complied with demands that were growing all the time more specific.

The Malfoy brat, Padfoot learned, liked being rimmed so much that he could come from that alone, though most mornings and nights he demanded that his cock get plenty of attention, too. And it was a nice cock, and Padfoot did really like it. Too much, since he ended up panting and horny, needing a fuck in the worst possible way.

He started having dreams. Intense dreams of the little bitch Malfoy had promised him, her coat made up of long strands of glossy, golden hair. Funny... as Padfoot he couldn't see colours, but he remembered them intensely. He dreamed in colour, of a sweet submissive bitch who would throw back her head and howl as Padfoot took her.

He learned to his chagrin that he couldn't have wet dreams, though. Were dogs unable? He didn't know. He'd never had any in Azkaban, but then again, while in the fortress he wasn't being unmercifully teased with daily tastes of delicious hard cock and stories of sloe-eyed bitches.

Time lost all meaning after a while. One day blended into the next without end, his life reduced to little else but time with Malfoy interspersed with time alone. He never even saw a house-elf, let alone another human being.

Until one day, all that changed.

"Let's go for a walk, Loki," Draco brightly announced directly after he'd had pleasure that morning. "You'll like that, won't you?"

Padfoot barked once, and wagged his tail, though he tried not to look too eager.

Brandishing his wand, Draco performed a few cleaning spells, both on the cell and on Padfoot himself. Padfoot shivered as the familiar sensation of being scrubbed all over tingled across his skin and teeth.

Another incantation filled the air. Padfoot listened closely. It wasn't Alohomora, but it was something fairly similar, he thought. The leash tethering him to the wall dropped to the floor, then. Draco took the free end up in his hand and wrapped it securely around his wrist. "Ready, Loki?"

Padfoot barked once, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "You'll come upstairs with me while I change," said Draco. "But do I need to tell you what will happen if you misbehave so much as once? You're my dog, Loki. Mine. And I expect you to act the part. Don't you dare try to run away from me."

Again, Padfoot gave that single bark of agreement.

Draco had smiled, his eyes sparkling with delight. "This should be fun. Oh, great fun," he murmured.

Padfoot didn't understand, not then.

But once Draco was dressed in austere formal robes and they were out in the estate gardens, he began to catch on.

"London's a bit far to walk," Draco said, still beaming that smile. "I'll Apparate us both. And before you get your hopes up--"

Padfoot barked twice to deny he had any such hopes.

Draco slanted him a wry look. "Right. As I was saying, you'll arrive as Loki, not... anybody else. Although perhaps by now you understand? You'll never be anything other than my pet, ever again."

Padfoot barked once, and waggled his head up and down, then rubbed his head against Malfoy's robed leg for good measure. "Good boy," said Malfoy. "I do like an affectionate dog."

Crouching down for a moment, Draco Malfoy held the leash in one hand and his wand in the other, even as he wrapped his arms about the neck of the large dog. Padfoot sniffed, the scent of elegant cologne surrounding him.

He could do it now... he was within reach at last, Malfoy's slender white throat bared before him, practically inviting him to rip it out. He could do it so fast that Malfoy would never know what happened, and when the brat's grasp of that leash slackened from shock and blood loss, he could run away, and find Harry, and--

Padfoot lunged, jaws gaping wide, teeth bared...

And found himself abruptly flung back ten feet, the collar about his neck tightening so that he couldn't breathe.

"You stupid hound." Draco shook his head, then walking forward, murmured an incantation that would return the leash to its normal length. Even so, he was rubbing one wrist as though it had been slightly injured. "That collar's charmed to never let you attack. Though I am impressed it took you this long to find that out. Well, be that as it may, we were going to pick you out that bitch today, but that's obviously off. I've half a mind not to even treat you to a walk."

Padfoot gasped, choking, his paws clawing the grass underfoot as he struggled for air that would not come. Malfoy merely stared at him, impassive.

Finally, in desperation, Padfoot did the one thing that might show Malfoy he was ready to behave.

Flipping over onto his back, he bared his belly and his cock, then tongue lolling out, turned his head to look on his master with beseeching eyes.

Draco knelt down alongside the suffering dog and lightly scratched at his furred underbelly. Almost absentmindedly, he flicked his wand to loosen the collar slightly. "I should leave you here; I really should. But Potter will be at the Ministry this morning. Another one of those dreary war orphans affairs. I usually don't attend but it seemed the ideal time for you to make an appearance, Loki." Draco loosened the collar again, and reaching out a hand, allowed the dog to lick it in apology. "That's better. You're going to be a good boy now, I know. The children will just love you." Draco laughed. "And when Potter claims you're his godfather... Merlin, what a fool he'll make of himself."

With that, Draco stood up and pulled the leash so the dog would right itself. "Up you go. Now, don't get too excited when you see Potter, Loki. You're my dog, remember." The Slytherin curled his lips in another smile, but this one was cruel. "Forget your place and I swear by Merlin's balls that yours will end up shredded. And Potter won't be able to stop me, so mind your manners."

Draco reached down and grabbed his dog by the scruff of the neck, Apparating them both.

* * *

Padfoot stretched his neck and strained, looking for Harry, but in the crush of people all around it was impossible.

Draco gave his leash a sharp tug. "Now, now, Loki. Behave yourself. You had the whole walk here to find a nice tree, you know. Now you'll just have to wait."

Determined to appease the brat, Padfoot barked once.

A little girl no older than six was suddenly before him, her face barely higher than his, she was so short. "Oh, a doggy!" she cried, grinning from ear to ear as she looked up at Malfoy. "Can I pet him, sir? Can I?"

Draco gave a reserved nod.

Padfoot stood quietly while the little girl rubbed her hands all over his face and neck and back.

"Careful, Marisa, strange dogs can bite," said a woman's voice as hands pulled the tot away. Her tones changed to something close to reverence when she realised whose dog the child had been pestering. "Oh! Mr. Malfoy, how lovely to see you here!"

Draco spoke in a smooth, aristocratic voice. "I do try to support the Ministry's good works; you know that."

"Oh yes, of course," the woman gushed, though Padfoot heard the false sincerity woven through her words. Malfoy didn't do a thing to help with charity, and she knew it, but just in case humouring him would change that circumstance... "So much need these days. So many children. Marisa herself, for example. Her parents killed near the end of the war, just a few weeks after she was born, and we've yet to find a good home for her." She paused, the silence something delicate. "Perhaps you yourself might consider opening your spacious manor to an unfortunate or two....?"

"I think not," said Draco in a voice that invited no further impositions.

Nodding in polite disappointment, the woman walked away, leading little Marisa by the hand, though she tugged and protested that she wanted to pet the doggy again.

Just as they walked off, a new aroma approached Padfoot. A familiar aroma. Padfoot sniffed the air, his ears pricking up expectantly at the sound of a footstep he recognized.

"Potter," said Malfoy as Harry came into view.

Padfoot barked, only to find the collar tightening once more. He quickly calmed before it constricted enough to cut off his breath.

Harry looked down at Padfoot, his gaze dismissive. "Where'd you get this great brute of a dog? I figured you were more the Pomeranian type."

Draco's mouth almost fell open, Padfoot saw, but the blond man controlled himself after an instant. "He was a stray on the streets. In terrible shape--"

"So you do know a bit about good works?" Harry laughed, the sound dark. "Didn't help Marisa, did it?"

Draco shrugged, the motion careless. "Ah, well a dog is rather different from a child."

"More work?"

"Less... enjoyable," drawled Draco, his eyes keenly watching Harry. He was trying to get a rise out of him; Padfoot could tell. When Harry didn't reply, Draco dropped his voice to a low, sensuous murmur. "I thought for certain you would be raising a ruckus by now."

Harry lifted an eyebrow as he moved back. "Oh, Draco. I think I know you better than to expect you'd care one whit for poor little Marisa's pitiful life. So you don't want to take her in; what is that to me? I don't care to have my bachelor's existence disrupted either, you'll notice. Though you might consider a donation, you know--"

"I'm not talking about a sodding little girl!" Draco interrupted in a furious whisper.

Harry, Padfoot thought, looked genuinely puzzled. "Then what?"

Draco pursed his lips, glancing at Padfoot and then away.

Harry suddenly laughed. "Oh, the dog! I'd wondered why you brought one here. Not for the edification of the children, I take it. You wanted me to see." The hero of wizardkind narrowed his eyes. "But why? I'll admit there's a slight resemblance but... really, Draco, you can't have thought I'd be so foolish as to mistake this magnificent animal for my missing godfather, can you? Oh! Perhaps you didn't even realise that Sirius Black was an Animagus?"

Draco shrugged as though he'd never thought about that matter.

"Well, that's what comes from never registering, I suppose." Crouching down, Harry looked Padfoot in the eyes, his own communicating nothing but polite disinterest. "No, I don't know you, do I?" He gave a single pat to the dog's head, then stood back up. "Beautiful dog. Sirius was quite a bit... scruffier. At any rate, that's definitely not the Animagus I was looking for."

Draco's hand clenched the leash. "The Animagus you were looking for?"

"Hmm. I've stopped looking." Harry lifted his shoulders. "You hadn't noticed it had dropped out of the news? Well, I suppose you weren't following it."

Draco went unnaturally still. "Not like you to give up so easily, Potter."

"Oh, I haven't given up, not in the sense you mean. I've simply lost interest."

At that, Draco practically sputtered. "But you were so... disconsolate when he vanished last time, that it, when he went through the Veil..."

"I blame the Veil entirely," Harry said in a tone that was somehow dark and conversational all at once. "Sirius Black came back changed, you see. Not that I knew as much at first. In fact I only recently found out about some of his liaisons, and I can't say I approve at all." The Slayer of Voldemort lowered his voice to a bare whisper. "He had slept with men, you see, and not just once or twice. Made a right practice of it, he did."

"Men," Draco repeated as though rather taken aback.

Harry gave a sage nod. "Oh, yes. Hard to fathom, isn't it? I couldn't believe it at first. My godfather. My father's best friend... one of those. I suppose I can't blame him... he can't have been like this when I knew him before. It's the Veil that did it." Harry looked pensive for a moment, but seemed to shrug it off. "Perhaps that's actually why he went missing, you know? He'd realised it was bound to come out otherwise. And I can't have that; I have my reputation to consider! If Sirius hadn't left on his own, I'd have had to repudiate him. And however... unnatural he is now, he still does love me enough to spare me that."

Padfoot started shaking slightly, his body wanting to snicker but unable to. 

Draco glanced down at him, a wry smile on his lips. "Oh dear. Something must have disagreed with Loki."

"Hmm," Harry passively agreed. "Perhaps you'd better get him home." He held out a hand. "It was surprisingly pleasant to chat with you, Draco. I'm sure this won't be the last time we meet."

A photographer snapped their picture as Draco reached out and shook Harry's hand.

* * *

Continue to Part Three