Hi, and thanks for the marvellous response I've had for this fic! Keep the praise coming, I could get used to it *grins* Thanks to Sela, Tara, The Brat Prince and Jehan's Muse for their comments on chapter 3. (and, Brat Prince, this author stubbornly refuses to accept that he died in Book 5, so I'll allude to some things from the book but not that!)

At the risk of being hexed by a mad reader, I shall shut up now and get on with the story . . .

Standard disclaimers apply.

*

Harry woke up the next morning and stretched, and immediately wished he hadn't. He couldn't remember falling asleep; he had just felt so warm and comfortable and safe in Sirius' arms, and must have drifted off. He must have slept in an awkward position, too. His neck hurt.

Sirius staggered into the room, yawning widely and carrying a large steaming mug of coffee and a huge stack of toast. He smiled a lopsided smile when he saw Harry was awake.

"I would have woken you earlier, but you looked so sweet. Sore neck?" Harry nodded, still rubbing his neck. Sirius set his mug down on the table and sat down behind Harry, and started to massage his shoulders and neck. For a few agonising moments it was excruciating, but then the pain passed and it was nice.

"Thanks Sirius," smiled Harry, as Sirius stood up and grabbed a piece of toast from the pile, gesturing for Harry to do the same.

"I used to do that for your dad," said Sirius, as Harry munched his toast. He grinned. "In fact, the most erotic moment I ever had was giving him a full body massage after Quidditch."

"Sirius!" Harry choked, sending crumbs spraying over the table. "Please, I'm eating! The last thing I want is a mental image of you getting a boner over my dad!"

"So, what are we going to do today then?"

"Don't change the subject!"

"I thought you didn't want me to talk about it?"

"I don't! I . . . you . . . oh, shut up!" Harry shoved the rest of his toast in his mouth, glaring at Sirius as he did so. Sirius chuckled, and took a sip of his coffee. "What do you want to do today?"

"If I shut up, how can I tell you what I want to do?" Sirius dodged the fork aimed at his head, laughing. "Well, if it's a cutlery fight you want, Mr Potter . . ." Sirius picked up his teaspoon and launched it at his godson. It missed by miles. Harry in turn threw the butter knife at Sirius, hitting him on the forehead. "Ouch! You'll pay for that, Potter!"

The next thing Harry knew, he was on his back on the floor with Sirius tickling him mercilessly. Harry shrieked with laughter, trying to both squirm away and tickle Sirius back.

"Ow, Sirius, stop!" Harry gasped, his ribs aching from laughing.

"Never! Not until you apologise for attacking your godfather with a butter knife!"

"Never! Aargh, stop, please!"

"I don't know, I go away for one evening and what happens?" Sirius stopped tickling Harry as he noticed Remus leaning in the doorway, his stern look marred by the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"It was his fault!" protested Sirius, standing up and helping Harry up.

"How did you work that one out then?" demanded Harry, massaging his ribs and still chuckling.

"You chucked a fork at me!"

"You were making inappropriate comments at breakfast!" Remus laughed, and rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't surprise me. You sure you still want to stay here?"

"Of course!" Harry grinned at Sirius. "Even if he does randomly attack me while I'm trying to have my breakfast."

"Hey! The attack was completely justified!"

"Whatever. I'm going to have a shower and go to bed, last night was pretty tiring. See you guys later."

"Wait! Were you with Tonks?" The only reply Sirius received was the door to the living room shutting. He shrugged and turned back to Harry.

"Ready to see the village?"

*

"This is so weird, Sirius. It feels like we're intruding or something. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know. You get used to it though." They were speaking in hushed voices as they browsed through the church. Harry was browsing through the last census sheets.

"There's a Snape in here."

"Really?"

"Yeah, look. Mauritius Snape, born 1872."

"Hm, wonder if it's any relation? Do they have any pictures?"

"Doubt it. Wonder what he looked like?"

"Tall, greasy hair, skinny, slimy . . ."

"OI! YOU! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? GET OUT!" Harry and Sirius jumped and turned to see a ghost of a man with a bald head and a large, flat nose gliding towards them, brandishing a ghostly poker.

"Good morning, Mr Carne!" Sirius grinned. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"OUT! GET OUT! TRESPASSERS! THIEVES! ARSONISTS! OUT!"

"Calm down, please, Mr Carne, I'm only showing my godson your lovely church."

"OUT!" Harry and Sirius dodged the poker and ran outside, the curate's swearing following them. They collapsed on the grass outside, and burst out laughing.

"That's the curate. He's brilliant," grinned Sirius. "I'd like to introduce him to my mother one day; I think they'd get on." He stretched out on the grass and closed his eyes, exposing his belly to the sunshine. Harry grinned, too. Sirius' belly was flat, and brown, and just screaming to be tickled . . .

"Mm, that's nice!" Sirius opened one eye and grinned. "Down a bit!"

"Huh, how come you're not ticklish?" demanded Harry. Sirius shrugged.

"I can be. You're just not doing it right. You have to do it like this!" Sirius launched himself at Harry. Harry rolled onto his feet and sprinted off across the grass, Sirius following close behind.

Harry hurdled a fallen wall, and glanced behind him – just as Sirius threw himself over the wall, catching Harry in a spectacular rugby-tackle that sent them both rolling down the slope towards the dried out pond, ending up with Harry trapped beneath Sirius.

"What are you like?" laughed Harry, his breath catching in his throat as he looked up at Sirius. Sirius was gazing at him, transfixed, his breath coming in short gasps. Harry stared into Sirius' eyes, which were slightly glazed, and was uncomfortably aware that he was starting to get aroused. Before he knew what was happening, Sirius dipped his head and kissed him.