Fic: Children's Moon, Chapter Six (HP/Who, Sirius/Jack Harkness)

[st_aurafina]

The Doctor pranced happily through the leaf litter, with his feathery tail held high and proud. "I'm getting the hang of this high physics magical cult of yours, Sirius. I might get myself a wand next."

The optical amplifier was large and square, clad with polished timber and brass fittings, and had large glass portholes in each of its four facing side.

"Oh, you're beautiful," said the Doctor, waddling all around it. "Look at you, all calibrated and probably full of mirrors. I smell silver: I'll bet they're using old mirrors to amplify the light. I'd love to get a look inside you." Unfortunately he didn't stand high enough to see inside to the workings of the device, so he propped his forelegs on the side of the thing and barked imperiously for assistance. "Doubt it will be strong enough to make a fence though – not with the light from a yellow star. You'd need something much higher frequency than that. But then this planet would be fried to a crisp, which rather defeats the purpose of it all."

Sirius was used to tuning out the technical chatter. He turned in a circle. "This stuff looks expensive. Why would Jack just leave all this here? Did Fen get him?"

The Doctor came to stand beside him, nostrils flaring delicately. "I get a whiff of terror here, but I don't smell blood, so I doubt that your werewolf has been around. Though, to be honest, this nose isn't as good as the first. I wonder if you should turn me into a bloodhound next."

Sirius looked down at him, imagining what Chien de Saint-Hubert would make of Time Lord physiology. "I'll find him," he said, and shifted into Padfoot. Colours faded, and the landscape came alive with smell and sound instead. He found Jack's trail quickly, and with the Doctor beside him, followed it. Jack's stride, initially long and confident, turned into an anxious jog-trot, and then a panicked bolt. Sirius loped along the forest floor, his hackles up as the mildew-rot smell of the Dementor drifted down from leaves and branches of higher trees. Concern for Jack, as well as the sturdy presence of the Doctor by his side, kept Sirius on the trail until he saw Jack curled up in the hollow of a dead tree.

"Go back to the amplifier," he said in soft rumbling barks to the Doctor. "I'll look after Jack."

The Doctor huffed in the beginning of an argument, but Sirius caught him by the scruff, gently picked him up, and turned him in the opposite direction. "Go," he said, and stepped out of his dog form.

Jack was curled up as small as someone his height and bulk could manage. Sirius walked slowly towards the hollow tree, with his hands out. Dementors affected people in different ways, and sometimes they reacted in anger.

"Jack?" he said, tentatively. "Can I help you?"

Jack took a staggering breath, and wriggled sideways to peer at Sirius. "I feel terrible. Why do I feel terrible?" His face was pale, and his eyes red-rimmed. He clutched his gun, both hands gripping it white knuckled.

Muggles couldn't see Dementors, though they were sensitive to their effects. Sirius wasn't surprised that the Doctor could see them, but poor Jack clearly could not. How confused he must be. He remembered the Doctor's explanation for Dementors.

He crouched down by the hollow in the tree. "Psychic vampire," he said. "The – my dog, he took care of it."

Jack pulled himself upright, and curled his arms around his knees, still holding the gun desperately. "Good old Dougal," he said, weakly.

Sirius sat down with him. "Do you still have that chocolate?"

"Honestly, I think I'd rather a good fuck," said Jack, with a feeble laugh. "It's always been the best therapy for me." He shuffled up closer to Sirius. "Are you up for a pity fuck?"

Sirius put an arm across his shoulder. "Chocolate first – it's medicinal."

Jack holstered his gun and rummaged in his pockets for the foil wrapped bar. "Okay, chocolate. And then sex?"

"Maybe later," said Sirius. He unwrapped the bar, when Jack's trembling hands failed to do so.

The Doctor heard their footsteps approaching. "About time! Come and hold me up so I can see in this thing!" he barked, from behind the amplifier.

"Hey, if Dougal pees on my box, I'll be charging the Ministry of Magic for the damage. And they'd better not pay me in disappearing coins again, either. Fool me twice, shame on me." He strode across to his amplifier and stopped, startled. "That's not Dougal," he said, surprised. "What happened to Dougal? He was a handsome man, that one."

The Doctor huffed to himself as he circled the amplifier. "Handsome is as handsome does. Tell him I'm very handsome, Sirius."

"This is Dougal," said Sirius. "He wanted a change." He leaned closer to Jack, and whispered, "He's terribly vain."

"Oy!" said the Doctor. "If I weren't here for benevolent reasons, Sirius Black, I'd be attached to you at the ankle right now." He trotted over and gave Sirius a stern look, a herding look. Sirius stepped backwards despite himself, and so did Jack.

"That's disturbingly effective," said Jack. He took Sirius' hand. "Do you mind if I just hold onto this for a little reassurance?"

"This is not the time for shenanigans!" the Doctor barked crisply. In corgi-form, he sounded disturbingly like Professor McGonagall. "Listen carefully, Sirius, because when you rewire the optical amplifier you're going to have to sound as though you know what you're talking about, and not at all as though electricity puzzles and frightens you." The Doctor advanced on him step by step as he yipped.

"It does not!" Sirius said, outraged and a little defensive.

Jack looked between the two of them. "What does not? Oh, man, I wish I spoke corgi; I feel like I'm missing out on a hell of a conversation."

"CORGI?" The Doctor wheeled on Sirius and advanced, his eyes furious.


In the hospital, an impressively tall-hatted matron absolutely refused to allow Sirius to bring his dog onto the ward. Sirius was actively constructing a way to transfigure the Doctor into a Chihuahua but Jack deftly bamboozled her with polite flattery, as well as with his official credentials, and Sirius slunk past her station with the Doctor scurrying at his ankles.

Mr Willoughby, thankfully, was deeply asleep. He'd been showing a lot of agitation, according to his file, which had been attributed to the shock and trauma arising from his mutilated face, and the attending doctor had recommended continuing sedation. Sirius doubted that Willoughby gave a damn about his scarred face; he had seemed very much the kind of person who did not judge on appearance. In this case, Sirius knew better than the doctors: the full moon might not have been able to trigger a transformation so soon after the attack, but the disease recognised the presence of moonlight, and responded accordingly.

Jack had four of the optical amplifiers, apparently enough to completely bathe Mr Willougby in cool silvery light. The Doctor kept at Sirius's feet, softly yipping instructions, which Sirius carried out slowly and carefully.

Jack watched as he turned the crank on each box to charge the battery. "Where'd a wizard fellow learn to do this kind of electrical work?" he asked, suddenly.

Sirius twisted two wires together and slipped the rubbery tubing over the join as the Doctor instructed. "Department of Muggle Affairs," he improvised. "We have a specialist in this business. Has a fascination for the stuff."

"That's what you call us, isn't it? Muggles," Jack said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "Makes us sound like idiots, if you ask me."

"I don't think you're an idiot, Jack." Sirius held up a mirrored piece of glass for the Doctor to examine. The Doctor gave it a lick, and sneezed.

"Good silver content," he said. "Whoever designed this had a good head for improvisation. Not as good as the Koh-i-noor, but certainly strong and clear. Give it a wipe before you clip it on, now."

Sirius cleaned the mirror on the edge of his velvet jacket, and clipped it into place. "We're ready?" he asked the little dog.

The Doctor nodded, and trotted to the doorway. "Allons-y," he said.

The high-coherence optical amplifier switched on with a whine, as the tiny generators inside each box whirred into action. As soon as each had reached a particularly shrill pitch, a bright beam of silvery light shot out of the glass covered porthole, up to a point above Mr Willoughby's bed where Sirius and Jack had suspended a parabolic mirror. The curved mirror caught the light and concentrated it more, then reflected it straight down onto Willoughby's body.

Willougby gave a gasp, and his arms flung out, as bluish purple light limned his body. He lifted slowly up off the bed, drifting upwards until he was suspended a foot above the mattress. Under the bandages, a peaceful expression crept across his sleeping face. Nothing sudden happened to indicate the infection had been vanquished; instead, the purple light flickered and danced across his body gently, and then slowly faded. Mr Willoughby's body settled quietly down upon the sheets, and his head lolled to the side as he breathed slowly.

Sirius reached out to tuck his arms under the covers. "Do you think it's over?"

"Best chance we can give him," said the Doctor. "He might have some remnant behavioural issues, but hopefully they'll be able to write those off as eccentricities." He shook himself all over. "Well, I'm off outside," he said. "There were some very interesting lamp posts at the front door which I'd quite like to investigate further." He poked his snout into the corridor, saw nobody to stop him, and trotted busily for the glass double doors to the outside.

"Leave me with all the tidying up," said Sirius.

Jack reached up to untie the mirror above Willoughby's bed. "Don't worry, I won't leave you in the lurch."

Jack had a very snazzy motor, a sleek green Daimler with barely enough room for the amplifiers and for himself. Sirius helped him stack the boxes on the luggage racks and tie them down. The Doctor had by now wandered all the way down the gravel path to the big wrought iron gates, where he alternately sniffed at the gateposts, or furtively dug in the garden beds.

"Still down for that pity fuck?" asked Jack. There was something pointed in his expression, something guarded and unhappy.

Sirius took his hand and shook it, holding it for longer than he had to. "You make it sound so enticing," he said. "Aren't you pleased for Willoughby?"

Jack nodded. His fingers tightened around Sirius'. "You? You pleased with how this all worked out?"

"What's the matter?" asked Sirius. "You seem angry."

"You can stop pretending," Jack said. "You could say you're pleased with the work I'm doing or, hey, maybe apologise for what happened on Satellite Five."

Sirius stared at him, perplexed. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about," he said, finally.

"Stop it!" said Jack. "Is this something that you do in this regeneration? You bluff people to death? I know who you are."

"Who do you think I am?" asked Sirius, with a horrible suspicion.

Jack flipped a coin at him, and Sirius caught it mid-air. It was the hexagonal coin from Altair VII. Sirius turned it over and over, wondering what to say.

"It's a fine casino," said Jack, bitterly. "I bet you had a fantastic time. Meanwhile, I'm looking forward to World War One and influenza. It's going to be a doozy of a decade."

Sirius reached out and took Jack's hand, pressed it against his chest, first over his heart, then moving to the other side.

Jack looked bewildered and betrayed at the lack of a double heartbeat.

"I'm not him," said Sirius. "I've met him, and I've even travelled with him. But I'm not him, I'm sorry."

"Is he here now?" said Jack.

Sirius told himself it wasn't a lie, not if the Doctor wasn't right here in front of them now. "No, he's not here."

Jack's expression was calculating now. "Do I get to meet him again? Has he said anything about me?" Meanwhile, his hand was still against Sirius' chest. He spread his fingers out wide, and stroked Sirius with his fingertips.

Sirius didn't step away. "He told me that he had let down a friend – quite substantially, was how he put it – and I know that he doesn't like to leave his debts unpaid. I really do think that you'll meet him again."

"Well," said Jack, with only a touch of forced cheer. "Whatever can we do to fill the time until that happens?"

Sirius smiled, and ignored the corgi galloping towards them over the wide lawns of the hospital. "I'm sure, with time and privacy, we can both find something to occupy us."


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