His Four-Legged Friend

A boy's best friend is his dog
~ Unknown

Dear God, please send me somebody who'll care!
I'm tired of running, I'm sick with despair.
My body is aching, it's so racked with pain,
and dear God I pray, as I run in the rain.
That someone will love me and give me a home,
a warm cozy bed and a big juicy bone.
~ 'A Stray's Prayer'

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He gasped as his chest exploded with pain and he stumbled backwards into...emptiness.

"Sirius...Sirius!"

Hazily, he could hear Harry calling plaintively for him; his courageous godson had never sounded so vulnerable and childlike. The boy's voice echoed, resounding around him first before falling fainter until it was no more than a whisper. Then there was no sound, no sight, no pain...Nothing.

He was falling.

He was changing, his body uncontrollably morphing into his canine Animagus form.

He was drifting. His senses were blocked and his mind muddled. He closed his eyes as he fell into oblivion, his mind only able to focus on one question.

Which was it to be- Heaven or Hell...?

*********************************

"...dead?"

"He's breathing."

He could feel hands feathering across his chest, lingering over his pounding heart. The hands- small yet proficient- gently rubbed and soothed his heart rate to a steadier rhythm. His breathing eased and he felt himself relaxing into a light daze. He could faintly hear voices around, their whispers tickling his ears.

"And I can feel his heart. Hand me the red bottle."

"Are you certain you know what you're doing?" whispered a female voice, young and tentative.

"Of course I do, I'm not an incompetent, you know," was her cool reply from what he could distinguish as male, the higher pitched tones of a prepubescent whose voice had yet to break.

Suddenly his jaw was wrenched apart and his tongue curled as his mouth was flooded with a bitter liquid. He instinctively tried to spit it out when he discovered his mouth clenched shut against his will, held tight so he could not open. Only when he choked the liquid down was the grasp on his face released. A growl deep in his throat reminded him he was still in canine form.

"Shut up, I'm helping you," ordered the male voice.

If this was an angel then Heaven's standards must seriously be poorer than he imagined.

The ground under him was cold and hard and he shivered when droplets of water dripping on him. This definitely was not Heaven and unless the furnaces of Hell had broke down then he was alive. He was *alive*! It was just a pity he could barely muster enough strength to draw air into his lungs let alone shout out his jubilation to the skies.

Something thick and woollen was draped over him, warming his chilled body, and the small hands were back stroking his head vaguely.

"We should move him," said the boy.

"Where?"

There was a musing pause. "The shed, Father and Acuzio never go in there. He'll be safe there."

Where the hell was he? Where was Harry and Moony? As much as he appreciated these children's assistance, he assumed Remus would have come for him or, if not his best friend, then the Headmaster. Surely, they had not abandoned him and left him for dead. Not Dumbledore who, he learned in during Voldemort's first rising, had never left a man behind if he could help it.

He frowned in concentration, his closed lids squeezing tighter, as he attempted to shift into human form. Nothing happened. This couldn't be right. He tried again to no avail. Not even a twinge of magic to assure him he was merely weakened and could not make the change.

Oh Merlin...He was panicking now, his heart thudding in his chest. What was going on? Why could he not change? He wasn't a dog, he was a man. He was Sirius Black.

The memories slammed into his mind with such clarity his head physically throbbed: the Ministry, protecting his precious godson, the Unforgivable of Death...falling...Falling through the veil before the curse could claim his life.

He prised his heavy eyes to flutter open, forcing his eyelids to obey him. His vision was blurry and he had to blink a few times until it cleared. He was lying on grass, the sky above him darkening as the twilight reigned and overcast clouds warned of an impending storm. He gazed upwards to see a girl kneeling beside him, watching him with earnest blue eyes. She was young, no older than ten, with long golden locks tangled and her freckled pixie face smudged in mud.

Her boy companion was sitting behind him, his knees resting on Sirius' back and the Animagus did not have the energy to lift his head to look at him. If this...this cursed existence was to be his life then there would be plenty of time to see the boy later. For now, all he wanted was to rest.

He could have kissed the boy when he commented, "It's best he rest now. I don't think he's hurt, just exhausted. Hand me the green bottle first though."

Sirius did not even growl a protest when a vial was guided to his mouth. If the child was poisoning him then so be it, dead had to be better than this. Surprisingly, a sweet chocolate taste pervaded his tongue and he lapped the thick substance up, licking his lips in satisfaction. At least it was a tasty poison.

"Come, we'll move him. It's nearly dark and we'll be needed at home."

The children stood, the boy remaining at his back so he still could not see him. For a moment, he wondered how two children would be able to lift him never mind carry him any distance.

He was mulling over attempting to stand rather than risk his saviours throwing their young backs when the boy commanded, "*Mobilicorpus*," and it was a surreal sensation as he felt himself floating upwards from the ground.

Well, that answered part of his question. He was somewhere in the wizarding world, no doubt in England considering both the boy and girl spoke in cultured, English accents of the upper-crust of society. The boy had to be around ten or eleven at the youngest since he had a wand and was skilled enough to cast a levitation spell. Was he a Hogwarts student? Perhaps when he regained his health, he could formulate a signal for the boy to contact the Headmaster and let the Order know he was not dead.

Yes, everything would be alright. He would be reunited with Harry and his friends soon.

Content he was being cared for and there was a way out of this situation, his eyes slid shut and he drifted into slumber as the two children guided his limp body to a temporary haven.

*********************************

Contrary to his eager plans, Sirius felt himself float in a waking dream for an indefinite number of days as his two young guardians nursed his weak canine body, feeding him water and odd concoctions. When one was hovering between life and death, one could not care what was being dosed out and who was doing the dosing. All he was interested in was the blankets swathing him, charmed with a warming spell and scented in lavender. He completely trusted these children, young as they were, and whatever potions they administered to him although he noticed it was always the boy who instructed what was to be given and when.

He had yet to learn the names of either child nor had he the chance to properly see the boy's face, only pick up certain characteristics through blurry eyes in the darkened, rickety shed he was kept in. The child's dark hair, his seemingly formal robes in contrast to the Muggle clothing worn by the girl, his nimble little hands that massaged the languishing muscles of his legs and coaxed fluids down his throat.

With his inner canine sense that was normally dormant when in man form, he might have revelled in the girl's demonstrative loving touches as a kiss on his head or a strangling hug but it was the more reserved boy whom he was fonder of. He reminded Sirius of Harry in the early days when the then thirteen-year-old was so tentative with how to respond to Snuffles but on the other hand, the growing adoration was evident in discreet, intangible gestures he could not quite put his finger on.

One evening, as the girl was tucking him up in a make-shift bed of blankets and pillows, he woke up to find his vision was wonderfully clear and the weakness was finally receding. The girl giggled when he nuzzled his nose gratefully against her hand. The boy had not arrived so he could not express his gratitude to him yet.

"He's awake. Good."

Both girl and dog startled, two sets of eyes darting to the squint door of the dilapidated shed where the boy stood in the doorway. It was dusky outside and coupled with the soft incandescent of the candle that was the only light in the shed, Sirius could barely distinguish the boy's features. He wasn't very tall and his milky skin glowed in the pale light.

"Where were you?" asked the girl. "I was waiting for you for ages, I've got some more frog cards I wanted to show you."

"I nearly couldn't come," the boy replied, in a voice too wearily for a child. Again, Sirius was reminded of his godson. "Acuzio saw me with you and told Father. He whipped me something awful, said I shouldn't be playing with Mudbloods."

Sirius didn't know which shocked him most; the accepting manner the poor boy spoke of his father's abuse or how easy the insult of Muggle-borns flowed from his lips. So, this confirmed the boy was a Pureblood, most likely from one of the older wizarding families from judging by how he spoke and was dressed. Suddenly, this child reminded him more of himself and how his own family's Pureblood vocabulary tainted his view of the world. Luckily, he had made friends early with James Potter, who taught him decorum and how prejudiced it was to rank a person on their lineage.

He could only pray the boy's friendship to this evidently Muggle-born girl would save him as James had saved Sirius.

The girl blinked, hurt by her friend's thoughtless words. "Maybe it would be best if we didn't see each other."

"No," objected the boy, with fervent force, "Slytherins don't need anyone to tell them who their friends shall be."

The boy was definitely a Hogwarts student if he was a Slytherin. He looked too young to be a contemporary to that Malfoy spawn so there was a chance for him yet. Perhaps when he returned to the school, Sirius would enquire on the child's behalf about a Re-Sorting or ask for Dumbledore to specifically take the boy under his wing. Sirius couldn't bear for this youngster to fall into Death Eater hands, he was too pure for such a fate despite what the boy's opinions of himself might be.

"It will be alright," assured the boy, calming. "Father is more concerned with Acuzio's training than to see to me."

"I don't know. I don't want you to be hurt, not because of me." If the boy was him, then this girl was the Remus of their friendship. Her touching nature, her determination to protect her friend even if it meant sacrificing their friendship.

"He'll hurt me regardless, I may as well earn my whipping." The boy's certainty of future beatings was chilling even to Sirius who had grown up in a house murky with the Dark Arts. His parents might have ignored him when he refused to accept their ways but at least they rarely laid a hand against him. "I can handle it, Cassandra."

Finally, he had a name. He tried to remember if Harry had mentioned any girl named Cassandra, especially since this Cassandra was no doubt a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Of course, his godson might have been the Boy Who Lived but he was also fifteen and he hardly ever mixed with anyone below Fourth Year. This girl couldn't have been more than a First Year if she had even completed primary school.

"I wish you didn't have to," whispered Cassandra. Sirius would have been pleased to put her name to her had he not felt his heart ache for the sadness in the child.

The still unnamed boy shifted awkwardly before changing the subject. "So it is confirmed, you're to go to Muirfield?"

"Yes, Mum decided yesterday. There are nine of us, it's not fair if only I go to Hogwarts. It costs too much."

"It's not right," the boy muttered, kicking the earth in anger, "you should be starting Hogwarts, not going to some pathetic hole of a school. That shouldn't be allowed."

Never before since arriving in this place had Sirius wished he could speak just to voice his ardent support. He was well aware of how a child’s admittance to a prestigious school such a Hogwarts depended as much on the parents' financial background as well as magical capability. Remus nearly ended up in the same situation had he not been a werewolf therefore unlikely for any state secondary school to accept him. Had the Headmaster not intervened and his parents scrimped and saved for their only son, Moony would have had little formal education beyond primary level.

If it wasn't for this damned war, Sirius would have vowed to change this so children like Cassandra were not condemned to a second class education since it was common knowledge the professional employers sought former students of schools such as Hogwarts or Beauxbatons for employees.

"It won't be so bad," said Cassandra, amiably, "we'll still see each other at the holidays and I'll owl you."

"Better not," grumbled the boy, refusing to perk up, "Malfoy will make me the laughing stock if he found out."

Sirius jerked his head up at the mention of Malfoy. Trust that little git to be making trouble for the good kids.

Cassandra rubbed the fur on his nose until he rested his head back down. "He'll be leaving soon, you won't have to put up with him much longer." The two children smiled at this, Sirius would have smiled too if he could. "What are we going to do with him when we start school next week? You'll be away and I don't think your father will be pleased if he catches me trespassing."

"I'm going to take him with me," the boy said.

"Are you mad? You can't take a dog to Hogwarts."

"I can so. The Headmaster couldn't give a damn about Slytherins like me," Sirius whined in protest to this remark, "and my Head of House only cares if we get good marks. And none of the others will tell on me. It will work fine."

"Okay," Cassandra conceded, "how on earth will you get him there? You can't just smuggle him in your trunk."

The boy smirked victoriously. "Oh yes I can. I know enough of the Dark Arts to cast a decent concealing and shrinking charm on him. No-one need ever know on the train."

Sirius should have been delighted at this opportunity to return to Hogwarts had arisen, except he was too busy being anxious at the idea this kid was intending to shrink him using Merlin only knew what spell.

To his dismay, Cassandra shrugged in acquiesce. "Well, he shall need a name first of all." She smiled mischievously. "It would not do for the dog of a Slytherin to be nameless."

The boy stepped into the shed and knelt beside the girl, for the first time allowing Sirius a good look at him. Their dark eyes met, the boy's fathomless and Sirius' stunned. And he suddenly he wished he had not been so desperate to face his saviour. A saviour who he no longer required a name from for he already knew this boy's face and name as if it were etched on his heart...

Severus Snape, Slytherin and all-round git.

No, that was wrong. Severus Snape, twelve-year-old protector of stray dogs.

Twelve years old and a Hogwarts student, not a professor; the last time he had seen this Severus was twenty-three years ago. More than two decades, years in which they had all grown up. There was no Harry now, Remus was not Moony for another year or so, Voldemort had not resurrected since he hadn't even died yet and the Order would not consider him a member in a time they still considered Sirius Black a child. The Malfoy whom he spoke of was not that impertinent brat Draco Malfoy but his forty-year-old father Lucius.

Oh Hell...This was not happening! What was he going to do now? He was a dog, trapped twenty years in the past and his only ally was a Second Year he loathed with a vengeance. Why did it have to be Snape who found him? Why not Remus or James? Merlin, why not Voldemort himself? At least that would have been less shocking.

"I was thinking Sirius if it were not for that arrogant, Gryffindor prat that shares the same name," scowled the young Snape.

"Oh, that Sirius Black boy who's always annoying you."

"Yes, *him*. We need a stronger name, a name too worthy for Gryffindor rubbish." Sirius tried to shift away from the brat, not wanting his greasy little fingers to touch him. "Are you cold?" murmured Snape, pulling blankets snugly around Sirius. "You and I will be good friends, we'll take care of each other."

Sirius stilled, closing his eyes. No, this was not the horror his mind of conjuring up and this was not the Snape, nemesis of his childhood. This was a boy who had cherished a lost dog and nursed him with love. In the space of a brief few minutes, Sirius grew up and accepted the startling realization that his best hopes lay in the very boy he hated and would continue to hate right into manhood. And however much he tried to forget all he had seen, Severus was capable of kindness be it to a dog or a little Muggle-born girl. He was a boy as tainted by his family as Sirius and was not lucky to have saved himself.

He gave in. He could not fight someone who had saved him and he could not give the nameless boy of before up as easily as he thought he would be able to.

"Good boy," Severus said, a smile tugging at his lips.

"What about Shaggy?" Cassandra suggested. "That's what Muggles call big black dogs they see as Death, Shag Dogs."

"I am *not* calling any dog of mine something with the word 'shag' in it."

'You tell her, kid.' Sirius swore the girl smirked at him.

"Okay...How about Baran? If he can't be the Sirius star then he can be the Aldebaran star. His coat is like a night sky and it's a good name too."

Severus nodded slowly. "Yes, yes, Baran is good. Far better than Shag Dog."

Sirius rested his head on the boy's lap, sighing deeply as he thought of all that was to come. He didn't remember Snape owning a dog back in their school years nor did he recall him ever mentioning a friend named Cassandra. Had he changed history already? What would happen if he had? The canine urge to protect his master was encroaching on his reasoning as he became aware he could guard the boy's innocence and keep him from the Death Eater path with all the knowledge of the future he had.

Severus might not have had James Potter to save him and he may eventually lose Cassandra but this time around, he had a big black mutt named Baran to safeguard his welfare.

His priority to return to his rightful time by his godson's side had not altered in the slightest. His goal would always be to be there for Harry, who no doubt thought him dead and was mourning the passing of another loved one. But along the way, if he should jostle his new master further into the Light then who could possibly argue with him?

Only an idiot or a madman since he was a dog named Baran.

THE END???