A/N: Characters and world property of JK Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.

Beta Love: ambiguousgoldfish, the best beta in the world

Of Blacks and Boarhounds

By Zorak23

Chapter One

June 27, 2022

The summer storm formed quickly.

Rain was pelting against her windshield, magnified by the headlights. The already treacherous route became even more so as she tried to peer around each sharp twist and turn on the northeast Oklahoma backroads she was traversing. This far into the foothills of the Ozark mountains, one side of the gravel road led nearly straight up the mountainside, and the other a steep drop down towards Grand Lake o' the Cherokees.

Sinaka whimpered in the seat next to her.

"It's ok, Sin. We'll be there soon and out of this weather," she comforted the Great Dane.

A flash of lightning split the night, the white brightness resounding with a deafening crack. Sinaka whimpered again.

"I know, buddy. Don't be scared. I'm right here with ya—"

A streak of brown suddenly appeared in the middle of the road. The eyeshine of a whitetail deer frozen in the headlights startled her out of conversation with the large black dog. She instinctively swerved to miss the animal, but the narrow way proved too precarious for such a maneuver.

With a yelp from both woman and dog, the Jeep flew over the edge of the hill, careening through the underbrush as they began their steep descent to the waters below. It was all she could do to steer, knowing that any sudden turns would make the vehicle flip over. Without warning a huge oak loomed in front of them, and with a whispered "I'm sorry," to her faithful friend, everything went black.

June 27, ?

She blinked her eyes, awakening in the driver's seat of the bright purple Jeep Wrangler. Glancing over towards the passenger side, she saw Sinaka staring her in the eyes.

"Oh God, Sin, I dreamed we crashed!"

She lunged across the seat towards the dog, forgetting she was wearing her seatbelt. Jerking back, she unbuckled and threw herself at him once again, hugging the massive Dane around the neck.

"Wait. Where are we?" she mumbled into his neck.

Sitting back up, she took stock around them. Nothing looked familiar. They appeared to be in a small parking lot between two stone buildings.

"Why was I sleepin' in the car? Is this a dream?"

She looked down at the back of her hands, and turned them over, palms up. She gave a little bounce in her seat.

"Nope. Can't fly. Not dreamin'. Huh. Where the heck are we, buddy?"

Seeing that the GPS display on the Wrangler's dash wasn't connected to the satellite, she grabbed her iPhone and opened Google maps only to see 'No network connection' displayed on the screen. She tried Apple maps with the same result. Silver eyes narrowing, she tried to connect to the internet, but Safari offered no additional information.

With a sigh, she tossed the phone into her purse. Removing a purple leather leash from the center console, she snapped it to Sinaka's matching collar.

"Let's go see if we can't figure out where in the Sam Hill we are. Maybe someone has a map, since apparently there's no internet 'round here."

Sinaka chuffed in response.

She opened the door, and with a firm hold on both her purse and the leash, hopped out. The dog was right behind her, his back higher than her waist. At 4'11 she was quite small, but the 'oversized' dog seemed to dwarf her in comparison. She secretly delighted in the fact that all she had to do was tip her head down to kiss him on the nose.

Straightening her loose-fitting lilac colored top, and trying to tug down the old and faded short jersey shorts she hadn't been planning to wear in public, they started walking towards the sidewalk that ran in front of the buildings she was parked between. A look to the right saw a florist shop, and to the left a hanging sign for The Boar's Hound Pub.

Her jaw dropped. Glancing down at the 'boarhound' next to her, she said, "Well if that ain't a sign, I don't know what is!"

They walked past the windows towards the door of the pub. She looked around for a place to tie Sinaka's leash, but seeing none simply shrugged and removed his lead.

"Sorry, buddy. You'll hafta wait out here 'til I find out if they'll let ya in or not. Now you stay right here 'til I call for ya, alright?"

He chuffed once more in reply, and she kissed his nose. Sinaka sat down next to the door, prepared to wait for his mistress. With a last pat to his massive head, she turned to open the heavy wooden door of the pub. Hearing the din of voices from inside, she stood, staring and shocked, then let the door shut without venturing inside. She turned wide-eyed to the dog.

"How. In the fuck. Did we get to England?"

She started to pace.

"Sinaka. I've lost my ever lovin' mind. Everybody in there has a British accent! And it's a pub for godsakes! That shoulda been a fuckin' clue! Who the hell calls a goddamn bar a pub?"

She continued pacing in front of the pub.

"There's a British flag inside. There's British beer signs on the wall. And those must be British people in there, too!"

Her hands went to her head, fingers threading through her waist-length, black and purple ombré colored hair to clutch at her scalp in confusion.

"Okay, okay. Either I'm crazy, or the crash wasn't a dream. The crash must've happened, and now I'm in a coma. So it's like a dream, but that's why I couldn't fly when I flipped my hands. Apparently you can't fly in coma-dreams. And the Jeep is fine, when I know we hit stuff. Because I'm in a coma."

She stopped pacing and looked at Sinaka again.

"Right. Okay. I can handle this. I'll go inside the British pub, in British fuckin' England, and figure out where we can stay. It's a coma-dream, so they'll obviously have some kinda easy answer for me, like a room for rent upstairs and a kindly British lady who cooks traditional English fare and sings British songs and loves big dogs, and they'll let me pay in American money with my American credit card. Right?"

Sinaka cocked his head at her.

Taking that as his agreement, she said, "Right," and with a deep breath she squared her shoulders and opened the door once again.

Stepping into The Boar's Hound was an experience in and of itself. Although she realized in the back of her mind that she was technically already in England, she truly felt like she was entering the country by crossing the threshold of the pub. There were only around twenty or so patrons in the bar, plus the bartender and a waitress or two, but the small size of the building made it seem cozily full, just this side of crowded.

"Welcome to the Dog, love! What can we get you today?" called the ginger-haired bartender with a wave.

Walking towards the bar, she replied, "Do y'all have Newcastle on tap?"

Voices around the pub went silent.

Several sets of eyes turned towards her.

She stopped walking. "Was that the wrong thing to say?"

Booming laughter rang out from the burly publican. "Not at all, love! We just don't usually get Americans around here! Come on over and I'll get you set up. Would you like a pint or a half?"

"I don't think I know what that means."

A grizzled man who appeared to be in his eighties snorted from his seat at the bar. "Damn Yank can't even order a pint. You really gonna serve the tart, Ern?"

She spun towards the man. "What did ya call me?"

Now all eyes were on her.

"I called you a tart, same as I'd call any chit who walked in here with short shorts like that!"

She waved her hand, as if flitting away a fly. "Not that, ya ol' coot. My granddaddy would say the same, I'm sure. I'm askin' did ya call me a Yank." The last word was dripping with derision.

He blinked.

The eyes that had been glued to her turned almost as one to the old man.

"Er, yeah? That's what you are, innit? A Yank from America?"

The eyes turned back to her.

With an angry tone, she unconsciously deepened her accent. "I'm American, yes. But I am from the south. My ancestors did not fight in the Civil War, they fought in the War of Northern Aggression. As horribly misguided as their beliefs were, I still take pride in my southern roots, and for you to call me a Damn Yankee, well, them's fightin' words, sir."

Silence rang through the pub.

Suddenly a guffaw was loosed. "Get her a pint on me, Ern! The chit is alright. Sit up here by me, lassie, and introduce yourself!"

Voices picked back up around the pub, but most of the eyes stayed on the pair at the bar.

She primly took her seat. "Thank ya kindly, sir."

"Sir! That's the second time she's called me sir, Ern!" he hollered towards the bartender.

"I heard her, Paddy. You going to shut your trap long enough to get her name?" Ern said with a smile for the girl.

The man thrust a hand her way. "Patrick O'Shaughnessy, at yer service, lassie. But you kin call me Paddy just like the rest of the fools in here."

She took his gnarled hand with a firm grip and shook. "Tallulah Isabelle Blackburn, but everyone just calls me Lulabelle. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Paddy stood up and turned to the room. "Listen up, you lot! This here's Lulabelle, and don't call her a Yank. Lulabelle, this here's everybody. Happy now, Ern?"

Ern just smiled at the older man's antics as he slid a pint of Newcastle towards the girl. "You said you were from the south, but you never said which part?"

"Oh, I'm from Oklahoma. I'm actually a bit turned around at the moment, and I'm not quite sure where I am…?" she trailed off in question.

"Cokeworth!" Paddy hollered out. "You're in Manchester, lassie!"

'Cokeworth? That's a real place?' she thought to herself.

"How'd you manage to turn up here?" he continued.

"I'm really not entirely sure… Hey, Ern, was it?"

"Ernest Miller, but yeah, everyone just calls me Ern. What can I do for you?"

"Y'all don't happen to allow dogs in here, do ya? Seein' as how your bar is called the Dog?"

He boomed out another laugh. "Only if you've got a boarhound, love!"

Lulabelle smirked, then winked at him. "Imma hold ya to that, sugar."

She stuck the thumb and middle finger of her right hand in her mouth and gave a shrill whistle. A moment later the door swung open, pushed by a large black head. Sinaka padded through the pub, heading straight for the bar. When he got to Lulabelle, she rubbed his head. The black dog sat genteelly at the side of her barstool.

"Paddy, Ern, I'd like you to meet Sinaka. He's my boarhound, although back home we call 'em Great Danes. Don't worry, he's very well behaved." She grinned as jaws dropped around the pub.

Two small children escaped their parents' table only to approach the pair.

"Excuse me Miss? Can we pet your doggy?"

Lulabelle could see the mother's eyes nearly bugging out of her head. Giving her a quick wink of reassurance, she turned to the kids. "Well ya see, Sin here only likes people he knows as friends. So y'all will have to introduce yourselves to him."

Nodding seriously, they turned to the Dane.

The elder child took the lead. "Hello Mister Sinaka. My name is Henry, and this is my little sister Hannah. We would really like to be your friend."

"You're the most beautiful doggy I've ever seen," Hannah shyly added.

Sinaka slowly raised to his feet, eye-to-eye with 6 year old Henry and towering over 4 year old Hannah. He sniffed first the boy, then the girl. Chuffing at them both, he sat back down and raised his great front paw for a shake. The children giggled at him and shook 'hands' with the beast. Standing back up, a giant tongue slurped up two small faces, causing laughter to break out across the pub.

"Sinaka! Mind your manners!"

More giggling from the children ensued. They thanked him for the kisses as their mother walked up behind them.

"Hi, I'm Eleanor, and these two belong to me. Thanks for letting them pet him, he really is a beautiful dog."

"Oh, anytime. Sin's great with kids."

Eleanor reached out to pet the massive dog as well. "I just can't believe the size of him! How much does he weigh?"

"Two-twenty-four at his last vet check. Oh, but y'all do stones, right? So he'd be what… sixteen stone? I think that's right."

Paddy hollered out to the crowd, "Did you lot hear that? The boarhound is sixteen stone! Ern! We're keeping these two!"

Chuckling was heard around the room as the door opened once more.

Lulabelle asked if she could get Sinaka some water. Henry and Hannah were soon leading him to the kitchens, where Helen, Ern's wife, promised to get him a bowl fresh from the tap.

"Just be sure to put the bowl on a chair or somethin' high like that. Big dogs can bloat if they eat or drink havin' to bend way down. In fact, if ya don't mind, just turn the faucet on and he'll drink right outta the sink."

As soon as the children rounded the edge of the bar with the dog, a tall, lean man entered the pub.

"L.T.!" hollered Paddy in his loud, gravelly voice. "Come over here and meet the new girl!"

Lulabelle turned in her seat to greet the newcomer.

"Ern, were you aware that there is a purple Jeep in your car park?" drawled a voice like dark chocolate.

Paddy guffawed at the dark haired man's pronouncement. "Don't tell me you have car to match your hair, lassie!"

"Matches the string I keep my puppy on, too, Paddy," she replied with a grin.

"L.T., meet Lulabelle. She's American, but she's definitely not a Yank," Paddy growled to the well-dressed man.

Lulabelle stuck out her hand in greeting. "Nice to meet ya, Lou."

He gripped her small hand in his long-fingered one and raised an eyebrow. "Lou?" he asked.

"Paddy called you L.T.? I guess I just assumed you were a lieutenant somewhere… although now that I think about it, you look more like an academic than a military man." She looked up and down his long frame, taking in the black slacks and deep charcoal dress shirt.

The corner of L.T.'s mouth quirked up. "And 'Lou' is supposed to be short for lieutenant?"

"Well if ya stick an F in there, I guess not," she grinned up at him. "I swear it's like y'all speak a different language over here!"

As he settled onto the barstool next to her, Paddy spoke up. "The boy looks just like his father. We called him Little Toby for years, 'til Big Toby passed on. He's been L.T. ever since."

"Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss," Lulabelle started to say, but was interrupted by both his and Paddy's snorts.

"Don't be, lassie. Not a fool in the world mourned Big Toby when he went, and many a soul rejoiced."

Lulabelle looked stunned for a moment. "Twenty-two years of good southern manners have been drilled into my head, but I don't think even my mama would know how to respond to that."

"He was a hard man, who lived a hard life, and it happened years ago. Don't give him a second thought. I try not to, at least until someone brings him up," L.T. stated with a hard glare for Paddy.

She placed a hand on his arm, saying, "Oh don't be mad at Paddy, Lou. It was my fault for askin' 'bout your nickname. Lemme buy ya a drink to make up for it?"

She reached for her purse, and he smirked a bit when he noticed the large bag was also purple.

"While I appreciate the offer, put your money away, please. A gentleman never lets a lady pay for a drink. Two pints of Guinness, Ern, over at my usual table if you don't mind."

"Not at all, L.T. Be there as soon as they're poured."

The dark haired man stood and offered his arm to Lulabelle. "May I escort you to the table, madam?"

"Of course, but shouldn't we wait for our drinks?"

"It takes time to pour a pint of Guinness. 'Good things come to those who wait' and all."

"Alright then, lead away good sir," she laughed, taking his arm as she stood up.

After assuring Paddy she'd be back to him soon, the pair meandered through the smokey pub towards a corner booth that offered a modicum of privacy. L.T. helped her to her seat, and while taking his, asked, "So you're an American, but you're not a Yank?"

"I'm southern. That's a dirty word in my neck of the woods."

"I'm sure that went over well with Paddy."

"I got the impression he's not generally too fond of Americans."

"He's not, nor is he too fond of anyone not local. I have to say I was surprised to see you two getting along so well."

"Oh, he called me a Yank and he called me a tart, and then I yelled at him, and now we get on like a house on fire," she grinned at him. "I will admit I'm not dressed all that appropriately for company, so the tart comment didn't make me no nevermind. But since I didn't rightly know where we were, I had no choice but to come into this fine establishment as is. I hafta say I didn't realize Cokeworth was a real place! I mean I've heard of it before, of course, but I always thought it was a made up town in Rowling's books."

He blinked. And blinked again. "There is definitely something to what you said about speaking different languages, madam."

She laughed. "Well let's just start all over then, shall we?" Holding out her hand to shake once more, she stated, "How-do, my name is Tallulah Isabelle Blackburn, but everyone just calls me Lulabelle. I'm from Oklahoma, and I got a lil' turned around and ended up in this here bar. Pub! They're called pubs here, not bars. It's very nice to meet ya."

He enclosed her hand in his large one again. "My name is Severus Snape, but people here call me L.T., for reasons discussed earlier. I am actually an academic; I teach chemistry at a boarding school in Scotland, although term just let out for the summer. I am pleased to make your acquaintance as well."

She stared, forgetting to even let go of his hand.

"Severus Snape?"

"Yes?"

"Your name is Severus Snape?" she asked incredulously, dropping his hand.

"You have a problem with my name?" he drawled with a raised eyebrow.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to ask ya if that's a wand in your pocket or if you're just happy to see me?"