Fic: Touch
Story title: Touch
Prompt: Friends (100quills)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Crookshanks, Sirius
Contains: The abuse and sudden death of a slice of steak and kidney pie.
Length: ~1400
Summary: A friendship which by all rights should never have happened, but which ends up changing everything. Where it begins.
Author notes: Some thanks should go here. First, to my loverly beta, pigwithhair. Thanks for making me sit down and defend my choices,which makes me think about whether they are, in fact, something I want. Secondly, thanks to redsioda, for my highly improved title, as well as for sharing my enthusiasm for the ‘Shanks. Much love to both of you!
Initial Posting: 12.16.06
~*~
Hungry. So so hungry.
Sirius shifted restlessly against the root, trying to find a place where the hunger wouldn’t bite into him, wouldn’t control his every thought.
He hadn’t eaten in years. He knew, somewhere deep inside, that that wasn’t true, but his dog brain couldn’t process time well, everything was foggy, fuzzy, happening in every moment of his life. He knew it had been a long time. He knew he would die soon, if he didn’t eat.
He curled, biting angrily at his leg, desperate to find a flea, a tick gorged on blood, anything to take the taste of starvation out of his mouth.
There was food elsewhere in the forest. He couldn’t see it, couldn’t hear it or smell it, but some remnant of his human mind told him that if he moved he would find food. But that food was far away, and he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t die before he got there. He was just so tired, so weak.
The same thing that made this part of the forest a safe haven for him, a near invisible vantage point from which to watch the castle, also seemed to frighten away any creature small enough for him to catch. When he first arrived, the total absence of bird song or the chittering of small clawed feet had shocked, then frightened him. He had grown accustomed to the silence, although it now seemed that that same silence would kill him.
He had fought to get this far. He was too close to die out here, like - ha - like a dog.
He knew he had to decide soon. He knew he couldn’t venture closer to the castle in the state he was in; he wasn’t strong enough to shield his mind from the Dementors. It was unlikely any food would cross his path where he was. It was venture deeper, risk becoming prey as he hunted, risk collapsing from starvation before escaping the silence, or it was nothing at all.
He rose, shook the dirt from his fur, and steeled himself. It was then that it happened.
Movement. Scent.
He whirled, as quickly as he could force his aching body, and saw a bottlebrush tail heading in his direction. He crouched low, sniffed. The scent was familiar. A cat, one he had seen before.
Weeks, days, months ago? He didn’t know. He remembered crouching low, hiding from the cat as it stalked through the brush. It was a different part of the forest then, closer to the castle. He remembered that human piece of his mind cursing his doggy eyes; it had always been his least favorite part of being a dog, his inability to make out clear shapes, spot colors. He hadn’t wanted to be discovered, not even by a cat, and he’d thought the cat hadn’t noticed him. He knew now that he was wrong.
The cat walked deliberately towards him, not bothering to disguise its approach. Sirius had never, not once in his life, known a cat to move deliberately towards anything it did not expect to find. And more importantly, it moved confidently. It was not afraid of him.
For a moment, Sirius pondered killing it. It was a large cat, fat, and it would surely provide enough energy for him to move deeper into the forest, towards the noise that would ensure him food. But before he decided, almost before he realized he was thinking about it, the cat reached him. Without hesitation, it stretched up and bumped its head against his jaw, giving a low, loud purr.
And Sirius knew he couldn’t eat it. No, not it, him. It was an old tom, with a smashed looking face. This cat had given him the first friendly contact he’d had in twelve years. For one broken moment, it was almost like he’d been back with Remus and James, those times as animals when it had seemed their friendship was stronger, truer, than anything they could achieve as men. With one simple touch, this cat had reminded him of a time before he was a murderer, a traitor. Maybe it was the only thing in the world that didn’t hate or fear him.
As the cat began to lick his face, he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy it. Before long, the cat paused in order to wash its own face and Sirius remembered his hunger. He whined, high and painful.
The tom paused in his impromptu toilette, one paw still cocked behind his ear.
‘Murr?’
Sirius whined again. Hungry, he thought. So hungry. Help, please.
The cat twisted to lick the base of his tail, then looked back at Sirius.
‘Prouwr.’ It sounded final.
The cat came over to him, touched Sirius’ nose briefly with his own, and walked away. Sirius whined one last time, and the cat looked back over his shoulder. Then he was gone.
Sirius hoped that the cat had understood, understood the way Prongs and Moony had understood. That it hadn’t just grown bored and wandered away to something else shiny, in the manner of cats. He hoped he hadn’t gambled away his life because of a few licks. He hoped the cat would bring food. He hoped the cat would come back.
He slept.
The shadows grew short, but they had not yet pooled beneath him when the cat returned. Sirius had expected, if the cat returned, that it would bring him a mouse, maybe a bird. Maybe, if the gods changed their minds and decided to smile on him for a change, a rat.
(Of course, he knew it was too much to hope for that rat. No god had ever smiled that much.)
The cat was walking slowly, his fat belly swaying gently from side to side. He was clearly having some difficulty dragging his bounty back from wherever he’d found it. It was no rat. Instead of killing some dinner for Sirius, the cat apparently had some kleptomaniacal tendencies. He was dragging a plump slice of pie, one that was far too large to him to carry. Every few steps, he was forced to stop, drop the crust from his teeth, and catch his breath. Moving, he couldn’t lift his head high enough to keep the pie off the ground, where it whacked against both front legs with ever step. By the time he finally made it to where Sirius was waiting and salivating, it didn’t much resemble a slice of pie at all.
Its appearance didn’t matter to Sirius. Hell, its flavor didn’t matter to Sirius. It could have been an onion and coconut pie for all he cared. It didn’t exactly last long enough for him to taste it, anyway. As soon as the cat dropped it and began washing the grease off his paws and lips, Sirius bolted the mangled slice in a single bite.
So happy was he, at his full belly, and his companionship, that he forgot himself. In one joyful moment, he gave the cat a long, sloppy swipe of his tongue across the face. The old tom bristled haughtily and placed one stern paw on Sirius’ nose, as if to say ‘That’ll be enough of that.’ Sirius let out a low barking grunt that was nearly a chuckle.
The cat stalked off a few paces and began the process of removing dog saliva from its person, while Sirius nosed in the dirt for any remaining crumbs of pie. Oh, steak and kidney, my favorite. Content, he stretched out in a patch of sunlight and closed his eyes. He knew he would have to go soon, to use what energy he’d gotten to find more food, but for a time, he merely reveled in being full and happy.
When the cat’s smushed-looking face had returned to its original fluffy state, he leapt nimbly onto Sirius’ back and began searching out and untangling the various snarls and mats in the dog’s shaggy fur. Had Sirius been a man, he might have wished the cat a heavily sarcastic ‘Good luck’, but he wasn’t a man, not then, so he grinned, and he let his tongue loll out, and he thumped his tail heavily against the ground. Better to be a hungry dog, with a good friend, than a man, alone in the woods.
~*~fin~*~
Prompt: Friends (100quills)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Crookshanks, Sirius
Contains: The abuse and sudden death of a slice of steak and kidney pie.
Length: ~1400
Summary: A friendship which by all rights should never have happened, but which ends up changing everything. Where it begins.
Author notes: Some thanks should go here. First, to my loverly beta, pigwithhair. Thanks for making me sit down and defend my choices,which makes me think about whether they are, in fact, something I want. Secondly, thanks to redsioda, for my highly improved title, as well as for sharing my enthusiasm for the ‘Shanks. Much love to both of you!
Initial Posting: 12.16.06
~*~
Hungry. So so hungry.
Sirius shifted restlessly against the root, trying to find a place where the hunger wouldn’t bite into him, wouldn’t control his every thought.
He hadn’t eaten in years. He knew, somewhere deep inside, that that wasn’t true, but his dog brain couldn’t process time well, everything was foggy, fuzzy, happening in every moment of his life. He knew it had been a long time. He knew he would die soon, if he didn’t eat.
He curled, biting angrily at his leg, desperate to find a flea, a tick gorged on blood, anything to take the taste of starvation out of his mouth.
There was food elsewhere in the forest. He couldn’t see it, couldn’t hear it or smell it, but some remnant of his human mind told him that if he moved he would find food. But that food was far away, and he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t die before he got there. He was just so tired, so weak.
The same thing that made this part of the forest a safe haven for him, a near invisible vantage point from which to watch the castle, also seemed to frighten away any creature small enough for him to catch. When he first arrived, the total absence of bird song or the chittering of small clawed feet had shocked, then frightened him. He had grown accustomed to the silence, although it now seemed that that same silence would kill him.
He had fought to get this far. He was too close to die out here, like - ha - like a dog.
He knew he had to decide soon. He knew he couldn’t venture closer to the castle in the state he was in; he wasn’t strong enough to shield his mind from the Dementors. It was unlikely any food would cross his path where he was. It was venture deeper, risk becoming prey as he hunted, risk collapsing from starvation before escaping the silence, or it was nothing at all.
He rose, shook the dirt from his fur, and steeled himself. It was then that it happened.
Movement. Scent.
He whirled, as quickly as he could force his aching body, and saw a bottlebrush tail heading in his direction. He crouched low, sniffed. The scent was familiar. A cat, one he had seen before.
Weeks, days, months ago? He didn’t know. He remembered crouching low, hiding from the cat as it stalked through the brush. It was a different part of the forest then, closer to the castle. He remembered that human piece of his mind cursing his doggy eyes; it had always been his least favorite part of being a dog, his inability to make out clear shapes, spot colors. He hadn’t wanted to be discovered, not even by a cat, and he’d thought the cat hadn’t noticed him. He knew now that he was wrong.
The cat walked deliberately towards him, not bothering to disguise its approach. Sirius had never, not once in his life, known a cat to move deliberately towards anything it did not expect to find. And more importantly, it moved confidently. It was not afraid of him.
For a moment, Sirius pondered killing it. It was a large cat, fat, and it would surely provide enough energy for him to move deeper into the forest, towards the noise that would ensure him food. But before he decided, almost before he realized he was thinking about it, the cat reached him. Without hesitation, it stretched up and bumped its head against his jaw, giving a low, loud purr.
And Sirius knew he couldn’t eat it. No, not it, him. It was an old tom, with a smashed looking face. This cat had given him the first friendly contact he’d had in twelve years. For one broken moment, it was almost like he’d been back with Remus and James, those times as animals when it had seemed their friendship was stronger, truer, than anything they could achieve as men. With one simple touch, this cat had reminded him of a time before he was a murderer, a traitor. Maybe it was the only thing in the world that didn’t hate or fear him.
As the cat began to lick his face, he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy it. Before long, the cat paused in order to wash its own face and Sirius remembered his hunger. He whined, high and painful.
The tom paused in his impromptu toilette, one paw still cocked behind his ear.
‘Murr?’
Sirius whined again. Hungry, he thought. So hungry. Help, please.
The cat twisted to lick the base of his tail, then looked back at Sirius.
‘Prouwr.’ It sounded final.
The cat came over to him, touched Sirius’ nose briefly with his own, and walked away. Sirius whined one last time, and the cat looked back over his shoulder. Then he was gone.
Sirius hoped that the cat had understood, understood the way Prongs and Moony had understood. That it hadn’t just grown bored and wandered away to something else shiny, in the manner of cats. He hoped he hadn’t gambled away his life because of a few licks. He hoped the cat would bring food. He hoped the cat would come back.
He slept.
The shadows grew short, but they had not yet pooled beneath him when the cat returned. Sirius had expected, if the cat returned, that it would bring him a mouse, maybe a bird. Maybe, if the gods changed their minds and decided to smile on him for a change, a rat.
(Of course, he knew it was too much to hope for that rat. No god had ever smiled that much.)
The cat was walking slowly, his fat belly swaying gently from side to side. He was clearly having some difficulty dragging his bounty back from wherever he’d found it. It was no rat. Instead of killing some dinner for Sirius, the cat apparently had some kleptomaniacal tendencies. He was dragging a plump slice of pie, one that was far too large to him to carry. Every few steps, he was forced to stop, drop the crust from his teeth, and catch his breath. Moving, he couldn’t lift his head high enough to keep the pie off the ground, where it whacked against both front legs with ever step. By the time he finally made it to where Sirius was waiting and salivating, it didn’t much resemble a slice of pie at all.
Its appearance didn’t matter to Sirius. Hell, its flavor didn’t matter to Sirius. It could have been an onion and coconut pie for all he cared. It didn’t exactly last long enough for him to taste it, anyway. As soon as the cat dropped it and began washing the grease off his paws and lips, Sirius bolted the mangled slice in a single bite.
So happy was he, at his full belly, and his companionship, that he forgot himself. In one joyful moment, he gave the cat a long, sloppy swipe of his tongue across the face. The old tom bristled haughtily and placed one stern paw on Sirius’ nose, as if to say ‘That’ll be enough of that.’ Sirius let out a low barking grunt that was nearly a chuckle.
The cat stalked off a few paces and began the process of removing dog saliva from its person, while Sirius nosed in the dirt for any remaining crumbs of pie. Oh, steak and kidney, my favorite. Content, he stretched out in a patch of sunlight and closed his eyes. He knew he would have to go soon, to use what energy he’d gotten to find more food, but for a time, he merely reveled in being full and happy.
When the cat’s smushed-looking face had returned to its original fluffy state, he leapt nimbly onto Sirius’ back and began searching out and untangling the various snarls and mats in the dog’s shaggy fur. Had Sirius been a man, he might have wished the cat a heavily sarcastic ‘Good luck’, but he wasn’t a man, not then, so he grinned, and he let his tongue loll out, and he thumped his tail heavily against the ground. Better to be a hungry dog, with a good friend, than a man, alone in the woods.
~*~fin~*~