Harry Potter One Shots

Later, Pup (Sirius Black)

A/N: [IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ] Hello! Thank you so much for over 500 reads! As a few of you know, this started out as a small project just to practice my own writing before moving onto longer pieces. Not to say that many people follow my work, but it has been so nice to hear the feedback and read the comments!

Unfortunately, university is back in session, and I'm not sure how consistently I will be able to upload. Ideally, a new one shot will go up on Fridays, but please be patient with me. If you'd like more direct updates on what's going on, please consider following me so that you get my notifications/messages. Again, thank you from the bottom of my heart, I'm so glad you all seem to be enjoying!

Special thanks to xblue_queenx for requesting this particular character! If there is anyone you would like me to write about, or even have a suggestion for what house the next "reader/you" should be in, please comment here or below!

Now, onto the fun part. September 1st, eh? What a day.

The Hogwarts Express left King's Cross Station at precisely eleven o'clock the morning of September 1st. Emma Vanity, a pretty but rather pretentious girl, sat across from me, prattling on about Quidditch tryouts—she was our captain, after all—and the latest broomstick model. Nodding along, I shared an exasperated glance with Severus, who rolled his eyes good-naturedly behind her back. It'd been nearly an hour, and she was still on about it.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" A rather plump witch had appeared at the compartment door, smiling kindly at us. Evan Rosier, who had been slumbering at the end of the bench, shot eagerly to his feet, his hand stuck deep into his pocket as though fishing for change. Lucius Malfoy rose as well, though his bag of coins dangled readily at his fingertips.

"Two pumpkin pasties," he stated. "And a chocolate frog, if you've got any."

I rolled my eyes, coming to stand behind him. "Please," I added, elbowing him gently in the ribs. Under the pretense of being indecisive, I allowed myself to follow the cart down the length of the hall, hoping for a reprieve from what had become a rather repetitive discussion on Quidditch strategy.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A little Slytherin lost her way?" At the sound of the all too familiar voice, I paused, pursing my lips. Of course, James bleeding Potter—just my luck. Having lost track of the trolley, I turned around, my expression stoic. For a moment, the smirk on Potter's face flickered in surprise, but I paid him no heed. Instead, I turned my gaze to the boy beside him, who—rather uncharacteristically, I might add—had been trying very hard to keep out of sight.

"Not all of us have the pleasure of being sorted out," I said icily, my voice low. "Or disowned," I added scathingly. Black shifted his weight slightly, the only indication that he'd heard.

"And what would you know about being disowned, (Y/L/N)?" Potter growled protectively, having recovered from his momentary lack of speech. It was a pity, really. I liked him so much better that way.

Turning my glare back on Potter, I stepped closer, forcing him back against the wall. "I'd appreciate if you'd keep out of things you don't understand," I sneered, my lips curling back into a snarl. He flinched.

Straightening, I stepped back, watching as Potter relaxed visibly. "Later, pup," I hissed, locking eyes—for the first time—with Black, and Black alone. This, he knew, was for him. He paled slightly, knuckles going white as he tightened his grip on the handrail.

Later, pup.

As children, we'd used the nickname so many times we'd lost count. A term of endearment, and, at one time, maybe something even more. We'd used it more times than the number of peels we'd left beneath my family's orange tree, more times than we'd snuck out the back door after a particularly bad afternoon tea.