Oh, my lovelies, this chapter is so long overdue that it is not even fashionably late. But to make it up to you, I've made it rather long. If I fail to answer any reviews, please know that I am infinitely grateful that you're still around, reading my stuff and – hopefully – liking it. Thank you, all of you!

Chapter Fifteen – A Walk in the Park

Little by little, Harry's awareness of his surroundings returned to him. The first thing he noticed was that his body felt so heavy he doubted that he would ever move again. Then the full magnitude of what he had just done – what he and Sirius had just done – crashed down on him and his eyes flew open.

His godfather had not moved an inch. To be precise, not a single one of Sirius' body parts had moved an inch. His fingers were still curled around Harry's now flaccid length and his head was resting on Harry's chest. He lay with his eyes closed and his breathing was so slow and heavy that Harry was pretty sure he had fallen asleep.

Lifting his head just enough as to not disturb him, Harry found it hard not to stare at the image they made. Sirius was still fully dressed; the way he lay wrapped around Harry did nothing to suggest that his fly was open and that he'd just come all over his godson's hip.

Harry blushed furiously at the thought. He quickly lay back down again, wishing he knew what to do now. He was a little cold but he did not dare to speak up. Somehow it did not matter that this was Sirius lying here with him – that this was a man he had no reason to fear. That Sirius would never intentionally put him in a situation where Harry would doubt himself so much that he barely knew how to breathe. Only Sirius had done just that. It was not Harry but Sirius who was in control now, no matter how hard the latter slept; in this moment Sirius was the one with the knowledge and the power and there was not much left for Harry to do than hope he had not messed something up. Or would mess something up. If he got the chance.

Once again, very warily, he lifted his head to look down on the mess of black tresses that spread across his chest. His heart took a little dive for his stomach. He wanted so badly to twine his fingers into his godfather's hair, and so badly he wanted Sirius to assure him that it did not matter that he did not know what he was doing. Quite simply, Harry wanted Sirius to want him however inexperienced he was. And yet, there was no way Harry was going to tell his godfather that this was the first time he had come at someone else's touch, if Sirius had not figured that out already.

Even though he had been waiting for it, when Sirius finally stirred, Harry knew an illogical rush of fear through his breast. Sirius lifted his topmost leg off Harry to be able to stretch out completely beside him. In fact, he stretched like a lazy cat – which, a part of Harry's overworked brain generously informed him – was really odd since he was more likely to move like a dog.

"Mmm…" Sirius gave Harry's cock a gentle squeeze, and still with his eyes closed, smiled a slow, content smile. "If we stay like this for a while longer, I'll be glued to you."

It took a moment for Harry to realise that he was referring to the sticky release which had rapidly cooled on his skin. Harry cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should..."

"I hate that word... should," Sirius complained. In a motion more fluid and elegant than Harry would have expected, Sirius propped himself up on one elbow. His eyes were a liquid pewter. And his voice rather throaty, sending a shiver down Harry's spine. "You regret what we did, Harry?"

"No." He shook his head awkwardly against the pillow.

Sirius' eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Are you quite sure of that?"

To tell the truth, Harry was not sure about anything anymore but with Sirius pressing so close to him and – oh god – tugging teasingly at the dark, wiry hairs at the base of his cock, he could only choke out a raspy 'Yes'.

He wondered if he had ever seen his godfather looking so pleased before. "Good. Very good, Harry," he murmured before joining their mouths in a long kiss.

There were so many questions that Harry wanted to ask him. Unfortunately, sorting out his jumbled thoughts, he was quickly learning, proved rather tricky with Sirius basically devouring him. While Harry's brain clouded over, his body seemed annoyingly ignorant of any impulses of chastity that randomly sprang to the surface. Sirius' fingertips were once again navigating through that thatch of dark hair and he cradled Harry's length in his hand both suggestively and almost reverently – a combination that Harry was fairly sure should be impossible but was also agonisingly enticing.

By the time the kiss ended, a peculiar light had settled in Sirius' eyes. "I think it is safe to assume that if James had seen this, he would have hexed my... Well, let's say he wouldn't have liked it."

"But we knew that already, didn't we?" said Harry, pleasantly surprised when he found that he still had a voice. However, for once, talking about his father was not something that Harry was too keen on doing. Not while Sirius lay stretched out like this against him, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Mm, definitely..." Sirius nodded slowly. "But before this happened – only this morning, if you like – this was only a hypothetical scenario. Now that we know for sure that it can happen, and that we liked it when it did happen – you did like it, didn't you, Harry? - it does take on traits of a reality that your father would have disapproved of. Or hated, I suppose. If he had seen us. All in all, I think we should – with the risk of coming off as heartless – be happy he isn't here."

Harry stared at him. "Who are you channelling?"

For a split second Sirius looked completely nonplussed, but then a smile began playing in the corner of his mouth and he bent down to press a kiss into Harry's skin, just below his left nipple. "You know... 'This morning' is not a good example."

"Why not?"

Sirius lifted his head to smirk at him. "Because ever since last night – and I will tell you that last night feels like a hell of long time ago – I've been pretty confident that I could somehow make you see how utterly boring 'hypothetical' is." He took a moment to, almost affectionately, pat Harry's flaccid cock. "And it didn't prove that difficult either."

When he turned back to face Harry, his smirk had blossomed all over his face. "'Difficult' is such a big word. I would have said 'hard' but that would be lying, after all. And, you know, I really don't mind big."

For the life of him, Harry could not come up with anything in response to that. If he had been the witty type, Sirius would not be chuckling right now, and looking extraordinarily delighted.

"I'm not that..." Harry gave an awkward, downwards nod. "I mean, you're much..."

To his relief Sirius took pity on him and did not force him to finish his sentence. Some of the glee was wiped from Sirius' features and a more serious expression took its place. "You have nothing to worry about, Harry," he said in a low voice that sort of managed to curl around his godson's spine. "Really, absolutely nothing."

With that, he released Harry's soft length and pushed himself into a sitting position, and then stood up, making no quick work of covering himself up. It was impossible for Harry to look away. Sirius still looked huge, despite him being all spent and sated. Or spent, at least, Harry corrected himself as the older man's greedy gaze skimmed over his still rather exposed form. Fumbling quite a bit, Harry hasted to tuck his cock inside his boxers and drag his jeans into place.

It certainly was not the nakedness in itself that made his heart and stomach change places in his body. He had seen naked blokes before. But none of them had been hard, and none of them had been Sirius.

Then again, he did not see why Quidditch should make you so excited that you needed to relive any pressure in the shower afterwards. If you were not Oliver Wood, that was... But if his passion for Quidditch had generated such consequences, he had dealt with them in private.

"Harry?" Sirius was watching him with a furrowed brow. "You all right?"

"Oh, yeah..." He pushed the unwelcome images of Wood from his mind. "I'm fine." He slid off the sofa, his muscles protesting when blood flowed back through them.

He made to fetch his t-shirt from the floor, but Sirius' hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Hey."

He caught Harry's gaze and the younger man was helplessly lost in a sea of silvery grey. Sirius' hand slid down to his waist and pulled him closer. "You're not just walking away with a 'fine', Harry."

"I wasn't." His voice sounded strangled to his own ears as Sirius dipped a finger beneath the waistline of his jeans.

Sirius leaned in, dragging his lips down Harry's throat and leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Harry swallowed hard as his godfather drew a deep breath and exhaled just as slowly, before his stubble once again rasped against the sensitive skin.

"You smell of me," murmured Sirius. "You've got my release drying on your skin and you smell of me. I'm not letting you go so soon, Harry."

Harry's throat was dry. He tried to breathe evenly and will his heart to stop trying to burst out of his chest. "I wasn't," he repeated meekly.

And then, for the first time ever, he dared to reciprocate. He pressed against Sirius' chest, deeper into his embrace and kissed his lips and, pushing aside his hair, the spot just beneath his earlobe. His godfather exhaled again, his fingertips travelling up and down Harry's back, making him shiver.

"Now that's more like it," purred Sirius contentedly. "I knew you weren't a lost cause."

Harry squeezed his eyes firmly shut and convinced his hands to park themselves in the shallow bay that was the small of Sirius' back. When the world did not end, he forced them further down until his palms rested against the coarse denim of Sirius' trousers. His godfather made an odd sound in the back of his throat and once more Harry's neck was being assaulted by eager lips. In this moment, Harry would have given his wand for some more courage but when none came to him, he mentally scratched a visit to Ollivander's (provided the old wizard would reopen his shop in Diagon Alley) off his to-do list. He was rather relieved when Sirius gently pulled away.

"Let's not..." His godfather's eyes were glowing.

Harry nodded, momentarily unable to speak.

Sirius lifted a hand and ran his knuckles lightly down his cheek. "We have all the time in the world." He smiled – a blessedly normal and uncomplicated smile. "We should get cleaned up."

"Yeah..."

"If..."

"If what?"

"Well..." Sirius bit his lip and his gaze dashed towards the window. "If you're not up for a walk...?"

Harry looked up at him questioningly. "You want to go for a walk?"

"Hey... I've been floating around among the dead for two years... and I haven't set foot outside this front door for... well, ever since I came back, really. And the visit to the Ministry doesn't count." He winked at Harry. "I'll be a good dog and catch every stick you throw at me."

Harry opened his mouth to protest. It was mere instinct. Impulse. It was too dangerous for Sirius to outside and... He closed it again. "Every stick?" He would not let Sirius have all the fun. Besides, Harry could use some exercise too.

At his words, there was a gleam in his godfather's eye. Harry gasped when Sirius slid a hand in between their bodies and rubbed it against his crotch. "Oh, if it's nice and hard, Harry, I'll fetch it. I'll take it it my mouth, I'll do with it whatever you want me to do..."

"Um... right." Harry swallowed, blood rushing to his cheeks at the thought. The idea of Sirius sucking him off made him tingle all over. And so nervous he feared he would throw up this very moment.

Sirius only chuckled. "Let's not go there just yet. We can start by going to the park?" He sounded more hopeful than anything else. He extracted his hand from its new hiding place and raked it through his tangled hair before smiling sweetly down at Harry. "Please?"

Harry could not help but smile in return. "All right. We'll go to the park."

o.O.o

"It's going to rain," Harry stated as he peered out of the battered door to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. "Look at those clouds..."

No more had he said so before Padfoot burst out of the house and nearly tumbled down the worn stone steps.

"Hey!" Harry called after him. "Hold on!" He shot the empty umbrella stand a glare, the very same stand that Tonks always knocked over when she came here. With a pang he realised that she would never do it again. Shoving the thought aside, he hastened to close the door behind him and tapped it with the tip of his wand. On the other side of the thick wood, he heard the locks give a series of clicks.

When he turned around he discovered that Padfoot was already busy shoving his nose at the shabby bushes in the small square and sniffing for all he was worth. His tail wagging joyously, he did not seem to mind the cool wind and the occasional raindrops that landed in his fur. Harry pulled his jacket tighter around him, wished he had his cloak, and trudged down the steps.

"It's supposed to be May," he muttered to the wind and the weather in general as he watched the big dog race around the square. "Where's is that park anyway?" he asked a little louder, finally catching Padfoot's attention.

His answer was a loud bark and then there was nothing more for him to do than make sure he kept up with Padfoot's pace. Another gust of wind hauled itself at him as he raced after the black dog.

"Padfoot! Oi! Sirius!"

With his heart pounding, Harry sped down the street, relieved at least that it lay abandoned. He turned one corner, and then a second, his eyes frantically glued on the mess of black fur ahead of him.

"Sirius!"

He was so focused on the dog that he almost crashed into the rusty fence. His breaths were tearing through his lungs and there was a faint taste of blood in his mouth.

Padfoot had stopped too, panting and with his tongue lolling, but looking as exhilarated as a dog possibly could.

"For fuck's sake, Sirius!" Harry was shaking, clutching his wand in his hand. "There are cars out here! You could have been hit!" He flung his arms out in some desperate form of clarification. "What kind of idiocy–"

Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Stopping mid-sentence, he shot a glance over his shoulder and saw an old lady in a dusky pink coat watching him with a distinct look of disapproval.

Quickly slipping his wand into his sleeve, Harry turned back to Padfoot. "Come on," he muttered. "Let's get this over with."

The park was small and far from impressive. Muddy pools and puddles created a grey-brown patchwork upon the hesitant grass. Harry shivered in the wind and wished he'd taken the time to find a scarf in some forgotten drawer or closet. Padfoot walked beside him, uncharacteristically meek.

"I'm serious," said Harry, as soon as he deemed they were out of earshot. "You could have got yourself killed. If you're not going to behave, I'll have to find a leash for you." He ignored the small whimper from his companion.

Rather demonstratively he stopped under a large elm. "So," he nodded at Padfoot, "go play."

But the dog did not move. It peered up at him and Harry could have sworn he saw a trace of worry in its eyes.

Harry sighed. There was an uncomfortable feeling rising in his chest. He dropped his gaze to the ground and tried to make sense of it. His throat felt tight. "You scared me, all right?" He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, refusing to look directly at Padfoot. "And you can forget that stick throwing business," he added just because it felt good.

Or rather, he felt lousy, but now it was too late. For a little while they both remained still, but eventually curiosity took over and Padfoot began sniffing the ground. Watching him, paws wet and muddy, with his nose buried deep in the grass, Harry finally began to relax again. He blamed the rain and the wind for his eyes tearing up as he once more gave silent thanks for the fact that Sirius was alive.

He prodded the ground with his toes and wondered if he ever again would be able to think clearly. He squinted at Padfoot, trying to look past the tangled black fur, searching for the man that he also was. Seeing Sirius like this, in his dog form, was something that Harry realised he had missed badly.

Motionless, he stood beneath the elm as the rain wet his hair and shoulders. Padfoot rummaged around in the nearby bushes, all in all appearing very unlike the man that had kissed Harry, and touched him, and made him come in the drawing room in the ancient Black residence. Harry wondered what curses and foul words Mrs Black would drown him in if she ever found out. He could not be sure but he hoped his father would have been less judgemental. Suddenly Harry felt very tired. He could not even work up the energy to pull out his wand and produce a charm to keep him warm. It was as though he had been drained.

The winds continued to roll in over the grass and he blinked away his tears. He missed his dad, and his mum... he missed Fred and Lupin and Tonks... He missed Dumbledore. All he had left was this stupid black dog that he once had been sure was out to kill him – this ball of fur and mud that was currently digging a neat hole in ground and tearing at the root of some tree or another. Harry smiled reluctantly through his tears. Padfoot was digging eagerly with his tail whipping around happily in the rain. Harry had this hairy monster and...

...and he had a whole family of Weasleys whom he loved dearly. He had Hermione whom, despite her annoying intelligence and self-righteousness, he loved just as much. There was Kingsley... and Luna... and Neville... and Hagrid and McGonagall...

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand before shoving them back on to his nose. Here and there on the grass lay sticks and twigs and he bent to pick one up.

"Padfoot?"

The dog looked up at his second call. He had his paws securely on the stubborn root.

Harry held up the stick. "Fetch?"

o.O.o

The journey back to the house was completed at a much slower pace. Since they were already drenched there really was no point in hurrying. Content, Padfoot trotted along by Harry's side, through the pouring rain, and with the stick held captive by sharp canines. The streets still lay mostly deserted, but now and then a car sped by, sending water splashing over the pavement.

Together they climbed the steps leading up to number twelve and Harry tapped the door with his wand, grateful when it swung open to let them both into the hallway that no one else would ever have guessed was there.

The gas lamps flickered on as the gloom embraced them. Harry looked down at Padfoot. "You need a bath." He rubbed his frozen hands together to force some warmth back into them. "And so do I – a really warm one."

Padfoot was given no chance to respond for an audible crack sliced through the air and Kreacher appeared in the dim light. He had wound what looked like a soiled towel around his stooped and gnarled form and he looked as spiteful as ever, though his eyes were gleaming with curiosity.

"Master Harry Potter has returned..." he shot Padfoot a disgusted glare, "with the dog."

"Kreacher," said Harry quickly, before things spiralled out of control. "We both need to clean up but then we'd really like something to eat...?"

The house-elf turned to him, looking almost thoughtful. "Harry Potter did not have breakfast this morning," he observed quietly. "Kreacher heard master and the... dog... in the drawing room earlier, but he would not go inside."

Padfoot had dropped his stick on the floor and now let out a low growl.

"Kreacher would never disturb his master when he does not wish to be disturbed," continued Kreacher, with his malicious glare fastened upon Padfoot. "Kreacher knows when he is not wanted. Spells and charms speak loud and clear to Kreacher."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. He wondered what it was the house-elf had heard, or what he knew or suspected. "Um, would you mind preparing lunch?" he asked, hoping his voice did not betray his worry.

Kreacher tore his gaze from Padfoot and gave a stiff bow. He muttered something under his breath that Harry could not make out. Then he was gone with another crack.

"Come on," mumbled Harry, eyes still on the spot where Kreacher had stood. "Let's find some warm water."

With Padfoot in his wake, he steered towards the bathroom on the first floor, very conscious of the trail of wet footprints they left behind.

"All right," he said, for lack of better words, when he had closed the door behind them. Without further ado he set to work, turning on the taps and making sure the water was warm enough. He was so engrossed in his task that he did not notice the shift in the air behind him. "Do you want to go first?"

"Do you want me to go first?"

At the sound of Sirius' voice, Harry jumped. Spinning around, he choked on a breath. In the place where Padfoot had sat, his godfather now stood, smeared with mud and stark naked. Harry felt the stone floor shift beneath him. Sirius was watching him intently, with wet strands of coal black hair falling into his face, but looking so much like a man – a very naked man –that Harry had trouble understanding it.

The sound of the water rushing into the bathtub roared in tune with Harry's blood. Sirius was coming closer. The bathroom suddenly felt enormous and Sirius looked as though he were a million miles away and yet Harry could barely breathe because the space was so tiny.

"I think Kreacher suspects something," he heard himself saying. "He wouldn't have..." He swallowed as Sirius' hands landed on his waist. "He..."

"You're all wet, Harry," murmured Sirius. "We really should get you out of these clothes."

"Kreacher..."

"Like these jeans, for example..." Sirius clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You would do so much better without them."

"But..."

"Harry." Sirius flicked open the top button easily. "I appreciate what you're saying. I hear you. And you're probably right." He flicked open the next one. "But you're also soaked through and..." he glanced over Harry's shoulder, "you could use some warming up."

It was not magic – it could not be. And yet Harry's resolve melted like ice cream in sunlight at his godfather's words and the dangerously sweet tone of his voice. He let Sirius undress him, obediently toeing off his trainers when Sirius mumbled 'shoes', and raising his arms when Sirius made to haul his sweater over his head, expertly avoiding knocking Harry's spectacles off his nose.

The jeans his godfather mostly ignored, however. Even after he had dealt with all the buttons, they were only gifted a quick glance or two. Somewhere mid-process, Sirius reached around Harry to turn off the taps, effectively plunging the bathroom into silence.

Sirius ran his fingertips up and down Harry's chest, exploring his collar bones and circling his nipples with a forefinger. Harry was not sure what he felt apart from the tangling of fear, expectation and delight that made his stomach twist itself into a knot.

"I'm sorry about earlier," said Sirius quietly. "I wasn't thinking."

"You were a dog," managed Harry, wondering if he had ever sounded more stupid.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. One of his hands landed again on one of Harry's hips. "You were right, though... It'd be rather pointless if I died in a car accident, after all."

Harry swallowed as one questing finger dived inside his unbuttoned jeans. "Yeah," he said, with some difficulty. "Really pointless..."

"Harry... I'm in no position to pretend I'm not affected by you."

The first finger was joined by another and Harry let out a new gasp as they found his cock. His eyes darted to Sirius groin and could see for himself that his godfather had not been lying. Sirius' own length jutted out from his body, an overwhelmingly clear indicator of exactly how honest he had been.

"I'd very much like for us both to get warm," said Sirius in a low voice that made something honey like slither down Harry's spine. "Shall we?"

Even though he tried, it was hard to not stare at Sirius' erection as he climbed into the bath. Hesitating, Harry fingered the waistband of his jeans, watching as Sirius settled down with his back against the black stone and stretching out his long legs before him. He had forgotten he was cold and he had definitely forgotten that he was supposed to be hungry.

In the end he pushed the fabric down, and with a feeling of dread twining around his senses, gave his boxers the same treatment until both they and his jeans bunched around his ankles.

"Come here, Harry." Sirius was not teasing and not smirking. In fact, he looked relaxed, and there was a gentleness settling in his features.

Moving closer to the edge of the bathtub, Harry had never felt more self-conscious. He kept his gaze trained on the water that lapped at Sirius' chest, thinking that his godfather ought to put on a few pounds...

"Climb in," Sirius ordered softly.

And Harry did. The water, he discovered, was perhaps a bit too warm but it did not seem to bother him as Sirius helped to ease him down so that he rested against his godfather's chest. He tensed involuntarily as he felt Sirius' arousal press against the small of his back but soon hands skimmed his chest, sending ripples of underwater currents across his skin. Kisses were pressed into his hair and left on his neck and shoulder. Yet, there was nothing demanding about them. After a little while, even the presence of the hard length that so insistently pushed against him turned into an almost beautiful thing; this was the evidence of how much he was wanted and for as long as he could feel it, he need not doubt.

When the caresses grew bolder, Harry closed his eyes and surrendered. There was too much warmth here, too much gentleness and softness to be scared. He let Sirius drag his fingers over his cock and it twitched in response. When Sirius' hands coaxed his legs apart, he willingly obliged, allowing his godfather to explore whatever he wished. It was only when Sirius' slipped a hand underneath him and a finger found its way to his entrance that his eyes flew open again and he jerked away from it.

"Hush." The finger disappeared and Sirius' arms wrapped around him firmly to keep him in place. "Just..."

Warily, Harry leaned back again, eliciting a groan from Sirius when he, more accidentally than intentionally, rubbed against his godfather's hard length. Instinctively, he sat up again, suddenly overcome by the possibilities.

Drawing a deep breath, he shuffled around in the narrow space with the water lapping around them so that he could face the older man. This time he maintained eye contact as he reached downwards and for the first time touched Sirius properly.

Grey eyes widened in shock and lips parted to ask questions that Harry did not know how to answer. His godfather was hard and heavy in his hand which Harry was sure trembled. But it would have been worse had it been Ginny. As it was, Harry was a bloke himself and he was not completely clueless.

The first stroke made Sirius freeze. The second made him draw a shallow breath, which he let go by the third. Harry was grateful for the water doing its fair share in easing the friction. Now that he was finally doing this, he could not tear his eyes away from Sirius' face. The older man's cheeks were flushed and there was a thin sheen of sweat over his skin. The shock he felt was obvious in the way he still seemed to want to say something. He did not, however, as Harry kept up his ministrations, his hand sliding up and down his godfather's pounding length.

Harry tried to keep the pace even but as his fear gradually gave way, he grew somewhat bolder. He renewed his hold on his godfather's cock, grasping it firmly and giving it a decisive tug. He rejoiced inwardly as Sirius gave a cry and his eyes flickered shut. He picked up speed then, and increased the pressure of the strokes. Sirius' head restlessly fell to the side and he let out a small moan. Harry could not help but smile at the reaction and courage blossomed in his chest. Shifting and changing his position where he crouched between Sirius' legs, he caressed any available patch of skin with his free hand, pleased beyond words when the older man bucked his hips, sending some of the water over the edge.

Struck by a sudden idea, Harry leaned in and brushed his lips against Sirius'. He was not prepared for the result, however, and almost lost his balance as his godfather's tongue drove into his mouth with a force that Harry had not expected. Sirius kissed him hungrily and demandingly; there was nothing left of that gentleness. Harry did his best to continue stroking him but it grew more and more difficult as Sirius' hands were now all over him, caressing his arms, his hips, his thighs... And to Harry's surprise, his godfather suddenly tore his hand from his cock and dragged Harry down to lie against him.

The water splashed down on to the floor and sprinkled the glass in Harry's spectacles liberally but he struggled to comply, and Sirius' growl blended with his own cry of surprise as their groins came together. The arrangement was utterly uncomfortable but the feeling gloriously amazing as Sirius rubbed himself hard against Harry and his groans echoed around them. Sirius came with a force that nearly threatened to drown them both.

Afterwards, Harry thought it safe to assume that not only Sirius' world had been unexpectedly turned upside-down. The water, he noticed now, had cooled, his back was aching, and his glasses were slipping off his nose, but he was so proud of himself that he probably ought to be ashamed. Turning his head carefully, he smiled at the black stone.

Sirius gave another groan, but a different one this time. "Oh, blessed Merlin..." He pressed a kiss into Harry's hair. "I'll never ask for anything ever again."

Laughing, Harry attempted to sit on the slippery stone. His heart felt light as a feather. He pushed his glasses back into place. "Am I supposed to believe that?"

Sirius opened one eye and peered up at him. "Nah, you'd just get disappointed."

"Then you'd better be quiet," suggested Harry.

"And you'll do this again?"

Nodding slowly, Harry could not keep from grinning. "Yeah. It was a walk in the park."

TBC