InsaneJournal

Sirius was lounging on a park bench, legs stretched over the path, a lock of dark hair dangling down over one eye. Paper littered the remainder of the bench, stirring in the wind and weighed down by a mixture of pebbles and Sirius’ arse. A book was propped in his lap, and Sirius' bottom lip was snagged between his teeth as he skipped over the text, quickly, in case anyone saw him. Although it was lunchtime on a week day, and most of the occupants of the park were either under ten or over eighty, and none of them seemed that interested in a lone, handsome boy in his early twenties taking up an entire seat.

Sirius’ head rolled on his shoulders, stretching out the tendons before he turned his hand, using a biro with a bitten end to jot a note on the pale, unmarked skin on the inside of his arm. The scratch of the pen wasn’t helping, and he squirmed uncomfortably on the hard, wooden bench.

Oh, bugger it.

Sirius’ body twisted in on itself, shifting, rearranging, and then a dog jumped down from the seat to shake itself out, finally settling on its haunches on the edge of the path. Itching. A whine curling in the back of his throat. Padfoot’s teeth were big and white. His tongue was long and pink and warm with blood as it lolled out of his mouth, letting the cold air touch it. The biting breeze cooled for a moment as Sirius' mind floated to the surface, scrabbling for purchase in the dog's body. Then he twisted again, forcing a cold nose through thick, black fur. Biting irritably at the burning, itching skin beneath.

Buggering fleas.