Canada Is a Lot Like Sweden, Really

"Couldn't you've picked somewhere else? Like Canada or Iceland? Norway perhaps - at least we could've done some fishing." They had spent the last two days in a cottage in the deep, gloomy pinewoods of northern Sweden, and Sirius was tired of playing exploding snap like some first-year Hogwarts student.

Dung snorted. "Been there, done that," he replied. "All ya get is mosquitoes in your panties. No fun, b'lieve me -those bastards can suck the blood outta ya in ten minutes; they're even worse than the Ministry tax collectors. Just be thankful I managed to borrow this cottage - it's the cheapest bloody holiday you'll ever 'ave."

"And the most boring." Sirius leaned back in his chair and shook the hair out of his face with an expression of impatience, then stared at his friend. "You've never been to Canada," he pointed out firmly. "You've never been anywhere. You don't even like to leave London, for goodness sake!"

"I 'ave!" Dung stated indignantly.

"Yeah right, when...?"

"Before you were born, Einstein. Mosquitoes and fog, and not a pub for 'undreds of miles. I was bloody thrilled, I was...best weekend of my life-"

"No pubs around here either," Sirius sighed.

"Oh, com'on, you're whining like a big girl. There's a gun over there; why don't ya go shoot some'at while I take a nap? Preferably some'at edible - more spaghetti and I'll start chewing the blankets. And I'll start wiv yours."

"Yes, let's kill a few small animals, that'll make me feel better..." Sirius leaned over the table, resting his head against the palms of his hands. Then he frowned and looked up at the older wizard, who was busy cleaning out the pipe he'd bought in a village called Sundsvall. "Before I was born? You're only nine years older than me - and you wouldn't have had the money, you couldn't even afford to buy your own wand until you were twelve!"

"Didn't go by myself-" Dung sighed and rolled his eyes before they fell on the guitar standing in the corner by the bunk bed. "'Ow 'bout some music?"

"If you touch that thing again I'll ruddy kill you. So, who was it that brought you to Canada, eh? Lord Voldemort?" Even here, in this remote part of nothing, a chill ran down their spines from uttering the name of the Beast, and Dung eyed his friend while he lit the pipe.

"Sirius, 'onestly-"

But the young pureblood was in a lousy mood and didn't want to let his mate get off the hook. "So, what's the capital of Canada, then?"

"Ontario," Dung answered without hesitation.

Sirius let out his barklike laugh and threw his head back, nearly hitting the ugly wrought iron lamp hanging over their table. "Bloody Hell, even I know it's not Ontario! It's Montreal. Ontario is on the other side of the country!"

"So? I never cared much for geography anyway," Dung muttered acidly. "I really think ya outta go outside and get us some fresh dinner. I saw some'at brown moving in the bushes last night, could've been a bear." He lit the pipe once more, not taking his eyes off Sirius - a clear challenge. "And if ya stumble across a cornershop, we're outta coffee."

"Goo. I fucking hate coffee," Sirius sneered back as he got up from his chair. Taking the Muggle gun from the corner, he walked over to the door and opened it.

"Careful now, sweetie," Dung called out to him as he walked out. "Don't wanna 'ave ya eaten by a bear, do we?"

Furious, Sirius slammed the door and took the few stairs in one jump. By doing so, he stood on a thick layer of pine needles that seemed to fill this whole country. For a minute he just stood there, staring at the dark wall of trees around him, then he started walking in firmly between the trunks. He was so angry that he just walked straight forward; he often found that a quick walk would calm the fires in his heart.

Did these trees ever stop? Wasn't there any clearing in this wood at all, not even the tiniest patch of grass where the sun would peer through this thick dark carpet lying above him? Apparently not, he'd walked for at least an hour and he still hadn't seen anything but these repulsive pines. The Muggle gun he carried was heavy and unwieldy, and in the end he had to take out his wand and shrink it to a more manageable size. Sighing, he put the cigarette-sized gun into the pocket of his Muggle jacket.

Bears. There were no bears here. He hadn't even seen a squirrel since the night they'd arrived here, forty-eight hours ago. He'd told Dung that he wanted an authentic wilderness-holiday, but the only sign of any wildlife were the mouse droppings he'd found in his bed the first night. Unless one counted the trees, they were wild enough; stern and sinister they stood as a wall between the cottage and the rest of the world, shutting them out. Slytherin trees. It was enough to make anyone paranoid.

Anyone but Dung, of course. Highly irritating and equally annoying he lay on his bed the whole day, playing his guitar and complaining about the food. If Sirius to endure the molesting of 'Black Magic Woman' once more he would kill someone - and it wouldn't be a rabbit.

It was getting dark. The forest was always wrapped in semi-darkness but this time it was night approaching, not just the ordinary perpetual gloom. He decided to turn back to the cottage; now, which way should he go? He took out his wand again, but as he found north it struck him that it wouldn't help him much, considering he didn't know where he was.

"Ah, man!" he moaned as he stared at the wall of pines. "Merlin's teeth, Merlin's balls, Merlin's fucking kidneys..." He started walking in a random direction, but stopped after just ten yards. "I'm a wizard. I was top of my classes at Hogwarts; I shouldn't be running around in the dark like a six-year-old Muggle...use your brain, Sirius Black! If you have one, you stupid twit-"

He sat down on a mossy stone, thinking. Then he picked up a cone from the ground and stared at it for a while before waving his wand in the air above it. The cone rapidly changed its form into a bird, a blackbird of course...Sirius hadn't completely lost his sense of humour. Not yet, anyway. Whispering to the bird, he let it fly and sat back to wait. In the bottom of his pocket he found a pack of cigarettes, and with a sigh of relief he lit one of them with his wand.

This would never have happened in Canada. In Canada the landscape was so open you could see the horizon no matter which way you turned.

After what felt like hours the bird came back to get him, and he followed the little thing back to the house, merely a five-minute walk away. He looked at the blackbird and wondered briefly whether he should transfigure it back or not, but decided not to. He'd rather let the poor thing have a bit of fun until the charm wore off. Though what sort of fun could be found in this dreary place? But the small cone-bird seemed pleased enough, and disappeared between the trees with a little song.

Sirius almost felt moved.

Dung was waiting for him when he came in, as usual draped all over his bed and the hideous musical instrument beside him. He gave his mate a grave look and took a deep breath before he opened his mouth to speak. "Sirius? We need to talk-"

Instinctively Sirius froze. Then he relaxed, shaking his head irritably; what was it with this line that made him hate it so much?

"Sirius, I think we need to see other people."

Sirius stared at him. "Do you mean...?" he asked in a husky voice. The other man nodded firmly, and Sirius threw his head back and howled at the roof in a manner that would have made Remus jump.

"Yeah, I'd thought you'd like the idea," Dung grinned widely. "'S Friday night, after all, even 'ere in these godforsaken lands. Now, I've seen a couple of...interesting films over at a Muggle friend's 'ouse, and if reality is anywhere near what I saw... Think this might be an int'resting ev'ning."

"I bet!" Sirius found a toothbrush in his rucksack. "So, where are we going? Stockholm? Across the border and to Trondheim?"

"I reckoned we could try the local place," Dung replied cheerily. "Ya know, try out the local...special'ties. It says so in all the Muggle tourist books: try out everything, just remember to wash it first." He laughed at his own joke while Sirius, combing his hair, was too busy to listen. "Merlin, I'll kill myself," Dung muttered and wiped away a tear from his eye.

"The local place, eh?" Sirius replied vacantly. "No need to put on the good suit, then..."

"Ya know, these people 'ave probably never seen an Englishman before. Before the 'our 'as passed, they'll be buying us drinks and lending us their wives! They do that over 'ere, saw it in that film I was talking 'bout. Great film, very artistic."

"You've seen a lot of films, haven't you?" Sirius asked, impressed. "Strange phenomenon, those things, what will those Muggles come up with next...?"

"I've seen a few," Dung shrugged casually. "All the Swedish ones my mate 'as, and one called 'Ben Hur'. Ey, what 'bout you'n me go to a Muggle cinema one time?"

"Sure. I'm finished here, aren't you going to clean up?" He let his eyes wander over Dung's dirty Muggle T-shirt.

"Nah, I'm ready. Could I borrow your black jacket, considering you're wearing the blue one...?"

"Sure."

The night air was cold. "Maybe we should 'ave taken this 'oliday in July or some'at," Dung muttered as he pulled the jacket closer. "'Ave this feeling October wasn't the best choice."

"Mallorca is probably better in October, yes... I bet it's even better in July. You know where we are going?" When Dung nodded, Sirius grabbed his hand and they apparated.

~*~*~*~*

The little town of Mattisjärvvi was not the centre of the universe. They were prepared for that, what they weren't prepared for was how eerily quiet it was. It seemed like a ghost town, as if all the inhabitants had been evacuated because of some horrible accident, or died in a plague. "If this was Canada, there'd be tumbleweed rolling down the street," Dung muttered. "What time is it?"

"Midnight. I don't think this is the town centre, though. I mean, for Merlin's sake, it can't be..."

They walked down the street, looking around curiously at the sleeping houses. Soon they heard the faint sounds of music. "Yes, that's what I thought; we wound up in the suburbs, or some odd Scandinavian equivalent thereof. Get your arse moving, I could kill for a beer."

"I'm 'ungry. Couldn't we grab a bite first? You reckon they've got fish and chips?" Across the street there was a little place called 'Gatukök', and they had fun for five minutes just trying to pronounce the name. When Dung proclaimed he would die of starvation, they went inside. A skinny red-haired youngster sat behind the counter smoking, uninterested he looked up at them as they walked in.

Dung coughed and approached the counter while Sirius leaned against the wall. "I would like fish and chips," Dung said loud and clearly. "You understand? Fish and Chips?" He made a gesture with his hand, like a swimming fish.

"We haven't got fish and chips," the youngster glared back. "We've got sausages, pizza and cheese and ham sandwiches. If you want fries or mashed potatoes with the sausages, you get a bottle of Coke for free." He took one last drag of the cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray on the counter.

"You speak English!"

"How observant; yes I do. So, what will it be?"

Dung bought a slice of pizza, and while he ate it they walked back across the street towards the pub. "Oh no, they're playing country music," Sirius moaned.

"Be bwave, young fwend," Dung replied with his mouth full of pizza. "Dif if de wildewneff, ya know." He swallowed. "Maybe we could transfigure a few of their records into Deep Purple."

"Yeah, right," Sirius grinned as he opened the door. The pub was a rather dreary place; brown wallpaper with orange stripes that hadn't been in fashion for at least ten years, and plywood veneer furniture painted violently red. The enormous stuffed head of an elk hung above the bar in the corner, and underneath it a blonde woman pulled two pints for a young man waiting on the other side of the counter. They both looked up at the door, but lost interest when neither of the two guests were any of the regulars.

"At least we won't 'ave to ask for ashtrays," Dung muttered, seeing there were three of them on each table. As he started walking towards the bar, Sirius took him by the arm and held him back.

"Shouldn't we apparate to Stockholm instead? At least there will be more than ten people... Come on, Dung, be a sport." He wasn't joking, there were only ten people in the room, eleven if you counted the elderly man who'd fallen asleep, with his hand still around his glass. None of the ten seemed to have noticed their arrival, and Sirius couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed by it; he fought the urge to shout, jump around or do something equally silly - just to make them acknowledge his existence.

"Where's your sense of adventure?" Dung replied cheerily and found some Muggle money in the pocket of Sirius' jacket. "I'm 'aving one..."

"My sense of adventure is intact and desperately waiting to be used," Sirius snorted and followed his friend to the bar. "That's just the problem -there's nothing happening here! The party has died and moved on, and has apparently taken all the interesting people along with it. This isn't a pub, it's a desert. I knew we should've gone to Canada-"

"Shut up 'bout Canada and drink your beer," Dung sneered through clenched teeth and pushed the pint into his hand, his eyes shooting daggers at Sirius. "You've been whining and moaning for two friggin days! If I 'ear one more fucking complaint I'm gonna strangle you wiv that stupid Muggle tie of yours. You got that? Now, go and 'ave fun." Dung turned his back to Sirius and sat down at the bar.

Sirius looked at him for a few seconds, feeling a little hurt. At least he ate his spaghetti without making rude comments. As if Dung could hear his thoughts, he turned on his stool. "And your cooking stinks."

Sirius stared, astonished, and then started laughing when he saw the glitter in Dung's eye. "If it's that bad, you can wave your wand at a cone and transfigure it into a steak or something..."

"I've already tried that," Dung muttered with a sigh. "Tasted like shit. Doesn't matter what it looks like, ya know, it's still a cone. Mice eat that, not men -which proves that I'm a man and not a mouse."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Sirius felt completely lost, and ordered a glass of whiskey at the bar. If he couldn't see Stockholm, he could at least get thoroughly drunk, and beer simply took too long; five more of these and even the hideous decorations in this place would seem tasteful. Ten more and he would be happy, fifteen more and he would be sleeping, dreaming of pretty Canadian girls and the city he had left for Slytherin pine trees and a bed filled with mouse droppings. "Aha! It was you!" he exclaimed and pointed at Dung who had started to eye up the woman behind the bar.

"What?" Dung asked.

"Nothing."

Now it was Dung's turn to look bewildered, and Sirius grinned into his whisky. "Have you ever been to Canada?" he asked the barmaid as he ordered two more drinks.

"Yes, five years ago," she replied. "Why? That's where you're from? You don't sound Canadian."

"I'm not," he replied truthfully. "What's it like?"

She shrugged and gave him a curious glance. "It's a lot like Sweden, really. Only...bigger, I guess." She measured him with her eyes once more, before walking over to Dung who tried desperately to get her attention.

"O-kay," Sirius muttered and turned towards the room. So this was what Canada was like. Only bigger. Merlin, give me strength, he thought. "God, I love London...."

There were two good-looking girls sitting at that table over there, though. Blonde and blue-eyed, like the girls on the picture postcards they had found in every shop or petrol station they'd peeped into. Smiling luring smiles with teeth so white they could blind you in the sun, and eyes ice blue like the glaciers...no, wait, wrong country. Like the blue in their flag, then.

One of them smiled at him, and Sirius fell in love. It was as if everything else around him lost its colour, its focus, there was nothing more to this world than that smile. He nudged his elbow in Dung's side. "Mate, I'm in love."

"Wiv me?" Dung asked acidly, not appreciating being disturbed in his conversation with the barmaid. "Why didn't you tell me before we left London; I could've brought my lubes."

"You vulgar old man. Don't you enjoy seeing young love? Look at her, Dung -doesn't she melt your stony old heart? Cool like the spring rain..."

"Bring my friend 'ere a new drink; 'e's getting poetic," Dung told the barmaid before he turned around reluctantly to look at The Chosen. "Yeah, she's nice. Go for it, I say -have fun. Just...go."

The barmaid gave Sirius another drink. "She's sort of...taken already," she said, leaning into the counter, giving him an apologetic smile and a wink.

"It does not matter," Sirius muttered, picking up his glass and straightening his uncomfortable Muggle tie. "I'm prepared to fight for my love."

"Yeah, and so is her husband," the barmaid replied with a sigh.

Sirius hardly heard her as he was walking over to the table. But the Gryffindor lion that roared in his chest merely a few seconds ago, now curled up and showed it self to be little more than a kitten, and his steps grew less and less determined as he neared them. He contemplated for a second passing the table to go to the Gents, but the alcohol gave him the courage he needed to stop and sit down.

"Where have you been all my life?" He flashed his brightest smile at them, concentrating on the blonde beside him. The girls giggled and the blonde's friend said something to her in Swedish. The word 'Engelsk' wasn't too hard to understand, though.

"I don't know about you, but I've been here the whole time," she smiled back.

"All right," Sirius laughed, feeling a little stupid. "That would explain it, then..." The girls laughed again, and Sirius sent a triumphant look towards the bar. Dung didn't see it; he had gone behind the counter to search through the stack of records beneath the stuffed elk's head. It seemed that he'd found something because the barmaid turned off the country music. Soon the tones of Uriah Heep filled the room, and Sirius leaned back with a sigh.

"Still a bit too much country, but at least it's better," he said and winked at the blonde.

She blinked back at him. "I love country music," she smiled, seemingly not getting the meaning behind his last comment. Sirius stared at her, trying to repress a slight feeling of disappointment. Well, no one's perfect, he reminded himself.

'It's gotta be love or nothing' -John Lawton's vocals were now booming through the room; obviously Dung had been playing with the volume button. Oh yes, there he was, peering down at Sirius with a big grin on his face, clearly convinced he had done his friend some sort of favour. Sirius closed his eyes for a moment before finishing what was left of his whisky in a big gulp.

"Excuse me, ladies" he muttered as he got up from his seat. He had to concentrate on walking as he went over to the bar, and he swore silently to himself. He ordered a beer and another glass of whisky at the bar, and while the barmaid poured them for him he turned to the older wizard who skimmed through the rest of the records with a despairing expression on his face. "I don't think I'm in love anyway," he sighed. "She's a country-fan."

"Love," Dung snorted. "Love only messes things up, mate-"

"Isn't that a slightly depressing view on the matter?"

"Depressing and realistic. Bloody 'ell, there's nothing but country in 'ere!"

"Thanks," Sirius said to the barmaid as she brought him his drinks, and he walked back to the girls. Music or no music, he intended to have a good time; the gods knew he deserved it after six months of hard work in the Order. He pushed the thoughts away, and flashed his biggest smile at the two giggling girls.

~*~*~*~*

"...and I'll show you London, just let me know," he purred in her ear. "I'll show you lots of things, wonderful things..."

The pub was more or less empty now. The girl's friend had said her goodbye's, obviously feeling left out and slightly offended by Dung's suggestion of replaying a few scenes from one of the Swedish films he'd seen - scenes that demanded an ensemble performance. The gentleman with the beer glass was still sleeping, and the group of youngsters in the corner had gone home.

And of course Sirius had got the difficult one, as always. The barmaid was just one big smile, always laughing, while Sirius had to struggle to keep the blonde's attention. And Dung was as mean as usual; when Sirius had asked him if they could trade he had simply snorted and walked back to the bar without so much as a comment. When Sirius thought about it, this might have been the reason why Maria suddenly decided to follow her friend's example and go home. It had taken him half an hour to convince her to stay.

With a bang the doors flew open, and a sneering man showed up in the doorway. "Maria!" he roared. "Så, här är du! Du skulle vara hemma för en timme sedan!"

Sirius had no idea whatsoever what the man was talking about, but it occurred to him that this person desperately needed to unwind. In his slightly inebriated state all he could think of was offering the man a drink, though he seemed to have had more than his share already.

"Hey you, oaf! Come over and let's share."

Dung came out from behind the bar and approached the angry man, he placed a hand on his arm soothingly. "Let's all calm down, eh? Sit down wiv us, 'ave a drink -I'm buying." Smiling his most accommodating smile, he tilted his head back to look into the raging man's eyes, which peered down at him with a calculating expression.

"You're the Englishman?" he asked slowly.

"Er...yeah," Dung replied, losing the expression of confidence. "I'm English-"

The Swede pulled away from him for a second; then a fist of the size of a ham smashed into Dung's face, sending him on his back into the bar where he landed on the floor. With his hand pressed against his nose he curled up on the pinewood floor, whimpering and pulling himself up against the bar as the man walked towards him with a nasty smile on his face.

Sirius woke from his haze when he saw Dung being attacked and he immediately went for his wand, but the first thing his hands grabbed was the cigarette-sized gun in his pocket. "Nobody moves! I've got a gun!" he cried out, and watched with surprise as everyone in the room stiffened. Fearful eyes looked at him as he pulled the Muggle weapon out of his pocket and pointed it at the brute who threatened to break Dung's legs. The effect it had on them was strangely satisfying to observe; even Dung seemed to want to crawl behind the counter.

Then the intruder started to laugh. "What is that, a cigarette? Nobody moves or what...? You're going to give me lung cancer...?" He forgot Dung and started to walk towards Sirius. "I'll teach you city slickers not to mess around with other people's wives..."

The triumphant feeling of being in charge left Sirius like mist in the sun, and he searched through his pockets for his wand once more, all the while holding the tiny gun out in front of him. Desperately, he turned and saw the wand lying on the seat of the bench he'd been sitting on all night, and diving for it he clenched the gun hard in his hand.

It went off with a loud bang, it felt so loud as if he'd gone deaf in both ears, and the recoil made his wrist go numb. With a surprised outburst he let go of the gun, clutching his wrist with his free hand.

When Sirius looked up at the others a few seconds later, it was as if they all had frozen in mid-motion.

With a creaking sound, the stuffed head of the elk fell down from the wall, dragging bottles and glasses and a stack of records with it on its way down to the floor.

"Well, I'll be buggered..." Sirius muttered, picked up his wand and put it safely in his pocket.

Slowly but firmly the barmaid came out from behind the bar. "I want you all to leave. Now." She pointed at the entrance with an unyielding aura around her. "There's the door."

Sirius walked over to Dung who was still sitting on the floor, touching his nose while making faces from the pain. After being pulled up on his feet, Dung turned to her. "Does this mean our date's off?" he asked, but backed quietly away when he saw her eyes.

It was raining outside. This place seemed even drearier now that Mother Nature herself did the best she could to drown them, and without speaking they walked through the village while their shoes made cheery squashy sounds. "There's quite a large wizarding community in Montreal," Sirius muttered.

"Really?"

"Yes." Sirius tried to wipe his face with the sleeve of his soaked jacket, but found the operation futile. "Dung?" he said, worryingly.

"What...?" Dung sounded irritated for some reason.

"I don't know if I can Apparate very well right now. Don't want to splinch myself in some bog."

"No problem. I planted a portkey where we landed."

Sirius laughed out loud in the rain

~*~*~*~*

"Dung? I've finally realised something important." Sirius proclaimed this as if he'd found the secret behind one of the Eternal Questions, such as does life exist on other planets, what's the capital of Canada, and who buys brown cars anyway?

"Yeah? Well, you be careful now, don't wanna wear out that brain of yours. But congratulations. What 'ave you discovered?" Curious, Dung leaned over the side and peered down at him from the top bunk, his wet hair hanging down around his face and making him look like some strange creature come out of the woods with the sole intention of taunting Sirius.

"That looks aren't everything."

"Wow...I understood that when I was eight. But you always were a late bloomer, weren't you?"

Dung's voice was dry as parchment dust and Sirius frowned in irritation, but then decided not to rise to the bait. "Maybe I am, maybe not. Better late than never, isn't it?"

"Only too bad you'll forget it when you sober up."

"Yes... I hope you appreciate the effort I'm showing by not crawling up there and smacking you in the mouth?"

"You wanna ruin my face completely? Sorry, I'll be a good boy," Dung snickered, then coughed. "Sorry again." There was nothing but silence for a while, but Sirius could almost feel how the other wizard tried to control his laughter. Annoyed, he glared menacingly at the mattress above his head. Dung once more looked over the edge.

"Could I sleep wiv you?"

"What...?" Sirius stared at him, incredulously.

"Not like that-" Dung rolled his eyes at him. "You paranoid or some'at? I'm not gonna tell anyone."

"What on earth do you want to do that for? Blokes don't do those sort of things." When Dung didn't reply, he scratched his head quietly. "Er...I suppose it's all right. Just keep your hands to yourself."

Dung sent him a big grin. "Spoilsport... All right."

The whole bed shook as Dung got down, falling more than climbing. "I shouldn't 'ave taken that last pint," he muttered as he picked himself up from the floor.

"I don't think the pint mattered much, it was more likely the bottle of Gin you had in advance. Bring your own blanket, by the way."

"I thought you went to a boarding school for seven years...?" But Dung obeyed and took down his blanket. He managed to step painfully on Sirius' knee as he crawled over him to reach the spot closest to the wall. Silence ruled for a while as the two men drifted into a tired haze.

"Let's go home tomorrow," Sirius said quietly. "I miss London."

"Yeah. What you say, Sirius?" Dung asked with a sleepy voice. "Next year we do Canada."

"Or perhaps Mallorca." He stared into the mattress, feeling how his eyelids grew heavy. Dung had started to snore lightly beside him, and Sirius sighed deeply. "Yes, Mallorca." With a content smile, Sirius slept.