Okay, so this chapter is slightly longer (the last one wasn't my greatest I know, I'll probably try to go back and toy with it), but this weekend, I was surprisingly free, so I had some time to play with this chapter. And Harry's only three, so it was a bit of a time jump. And he'll definitely still be three years old in the next chapter.

Thanks, and, once again, I don't own Harry Potter.

Sirius twisted the curtains before him nervously as he peered out the window. They'd been in this apartment for around a month now, it was in a largely populated area, in the hopes that they would be able to blend in easily with the surrounding muggles.

The last time Sirius came across the ministry aurors at least taught Sirius a quick lesson. He now knew that they were actively looking for him. Apparently, he was the "betrayer" – he was (apparently) giving ministry secrets, which he'd learned during his time as an auror, to Voldemort. Where they came up with that idea, he didn't know. Because, obviously, no other ministry employee could be a spy. It has to be Black.

All in all it had been a nice little reunion with Dawlish.

And really, Sirius shouldn't have thought himself above protection wards. They were defenseless as of now, and Remus was outside. Walking, just walking, they did live near the marketplace, but Remus, was still outside the house.

He fingered his wand, snapping the curtain shut, and stepped back a few paces. It wouldn't do for Remus to catch him due to the werewolf glancing over and seeing his face peering out of the window.

It would have been way too anti-climatic.

"Siri!" and Harry wouldn't have been able to shut up either way.

Sirius sighed, slowly stowing his wand and making his way to the kitchen. "Yes Hare?" he asked, exasperated. The people lied. People said, time and time again that the 'terrible twos' were horrible, but afterwards, your child will be a complete and utter angel. They lied. Harry was an adorable two year-old. As of now, at three years old, the only thing stopping Sirius from strangling the child was his bright emerald green puppy dog eyes.

But Harry stared up at him, his lower lip trembling in the tell tale sign that something wasn't going his way and a stab of guilt washed through Sirius as the boy stared up at him through watery green eyes. He never should have had homicidal thoughts about his poor little baby. "I wanna cookie," he said.

Sirius swept the guilt away rather quickly. "Boo," he said fondly, not able to keep the amusement out of his tone as he walked forward. The boy had managed to muse with his overalls straps so that they were twisted out of proportion, his orange shirt ruffled and wrinkled underneath and the sneakers untied on his feet. Harry had a strange desire to dress himself everyday – he still hadn't managed to understand the concept of right shoe goes on right foot yet. "You don't want to ruin your lunch."

He struggled slightly attempting to straighten his overalls as the boy squirmed, "Cookie," Harry managed to insist as Sirius gave it up for a bad job and unclipped the strap before straightening it out and redoing it with the next.

Harry fumbled with the newly fixed straps, abandoning his 'cookie' crusade in order to give his outfit a critical once over before looking back over at Sirius.

"No cookie," Sirius said, picking him up, and placing him onto one of the old kitchen chairs.

Thankfully this apartment had come with furniture already in it, it wasn't cheap, but for a month or two, it was worth it. And Harry loved the park down the street, not too far from the market actually.

"Why?"

Taking a deep breath, Sirius managed to repress his groan of frustration, pushing the thoughts of Remus being in town out of his mind. He did not want to start this again. "Because I said so," he said finally.

Harry, obviously anticipating this answer, responded with the ever prevalent, "Why?"

"Because lunch is in an hour and you can have a cookie then."

"Why?"

"You don't want a cookie with lunch then?" Sirius gasped, holding a hand up to his heart as Harry suddenly looked, rather constipated actually, at the mere thought. "I suppose that I can eat that poor, poor cookie that has been just thrown aside as if it were noth–"

"But I wan' the cookie!" Harry cried out, overriding his godfather, "can I 'ave a cookie wit' lunch? Can I? Can I? Can I?"

Sirius plopped down onto the chair beside the one he'd set Harry on just as Harry jumped off, his black hair bouncing as the boy practically jumped up and down, not willing to give up his snack that went along with his lunch. And Sirius, enjoying the display, rubbed his chin in thought. "I don't know…" he said, grinning at the child's horrified look as he began pulling on his godfathers shirt sleeve, "I suppose you could," he said slowly, "if you tell me the magic word?"

"Mischief Managed?" Harry asked with surprising clarity, but Sirius shook his head. "Pretty, pretty please with sprinkles and lemons and rainbows and bunnies on top?"

Sirius grinned, "You had me at pretty kid."

Harry did his own little jig that seemed oddly reminiscent of Sirius' dances whenever he managed to answer a Jeopardy question right or managed to finish a cross word puzzle without any help.

"Come on you little Poltergeist," Sirius said, easily picking Harry up by the arms and swinging onto his hip with practiced ease as he stopped the boy's little dance. The term of endearment, although Harry didn't question it, was a new one. After calling the boy 'Boo' for the better part of a year, combined with the fact that the terrible two's were a lie and the three's were horrible, Sirius came to the conclusion that Harry acted like a Poltergeist, and, therefore, should be called one. Harry didn't complain, so Sirius saw no reason to stop. "We've got to get ready for our picnic, don't we?"

"Uh huh," Harry nodded his head, looking eerily like a bobble-headed doll for all of a second before squirming to be put down. "Can I 'ave a cookie now?" He asked after a pause.

Sirius sighed, "No," he said simply.

"But I wan' one," the raven-haired child said firmly, giving up on his struggles to give him a half-hearted pout as he buried his head in his godfather's shoulder.

"So do I," the man said simply, pushing both chairs in and walking into the living room, "I would love a cookie for all intents and purposes" (and he'd probably have been eating one now if he didn't have a three year old running around that he had to look after – Sirius had notoriously bad eating habits).

Casting a weary eye at the closed curtains that he'd only just been staring out of, Sirius felt a lump in his throat. It'd been almost two years since he'd last seen Remus. To put it simply the man looked horrible. His clothes were ragged and there seemed to be a new scare across his face, but without Sirius and James to help him through his transformations, it probably made it ten times worse. And Sirius wouldn't be surprised if the anti-werewolf propaganda was floating through the wizarding world once again.

The war had probably escalated in the two years that Sirius had been hiding in blissful oblivion.

"Si," Harry demanded, pulling at his hair to get his attention.

Scowling slightly, Sirius pushed his hair behind his ear, it was getting long again. "No pulling my hair," he told him firmly. He did not have girl's hair. No matter what Harry said. Just cause it was long and more than likely pulled in a ponytail – it didn't matter. It wasn't girl's hair.

"Down."

Sirius dutifully placed the boy on the floor and allowed him to race across the room to the door with a piece of paper that had Harry written on it painstakingly in a child's writing. Harry had written it only day's ago when he asked Sirius how to spell his name. It'd taken him hours before he could get it right.

He chuckled and followed the boys lead into the room. It was small, blue, without very many decorations besides the stars that Sirius had charmed to twinkle above his bed. It wasn't as good as Lily's old charm in the nursery, nor was it nearly as good as the ceiling in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but Harry loved it all the same, and insisted on having the charm up in every room he stayed in.

He managed to become completely enraptured with astronomy incredibly quickly, and nearly convinced Sirius that he was going to be an astronaut soon or die trying.

Needless to say, Sirius was torn between having a mini-heart-attack and dying of laughter.

"Pah," he said, too lazy to even shorten his name to Pads, shortening it even further to 'pah' – not that Sirius could complain. "I can' fin' it…"

"What're you lookin' for Boo?"

"Padfoot," he said with surprising clarity once again. He always did take a strange interest in the Marauders. But Sirius knew what the boy was talking about. He watched the boy scuttle over to the overturned toy chest, only a few toys resided in there, they never had enough time or money to pack and save each toy they picked up, but Padfoot…

Kneeling, Sirius glanced under the bed. With a roll of his eyes, the shuffled forwards, closer to the bed, not even bothering to get up off his knees before be pushed his hand underneath, felt around, and pulled the stuffed black grim that they've had since day one.

"Harry?" Sirius asked, holding out his peace offering.

Harry squealed excitedly, running up and pulling the black grim out of his likenesses hands and chatting inane things to the animal about his day and where they were going. Taking this as a sign that Harry wouldn't mind getting man-handled at the moment, and he picked the boy up and placed him onto the bed. A small rocket soared across the comforter.

He took both of the boys shoes off (they were on the wrong feet any way) and took off the boys socks. Harry put them on inside out again. And, slipping the sock back on, he placed the boy's right foot into the right shoe before following with the left foot. They'd go over this lesson again another day – he already knew that Harry wouldn't even bother attempting to listen to whatever he had to say.

"Why don't you go wash your hands Boo?" He asked, interrupting the boy's ramblings to his stuffed animal. "Then we can get going."

"Alrigh'," Harry said. His speech was still slurred slightly, but it was getting better by the day. He managed to talk more and more, expanding his vocabulary with each passing week. Sirius was sure that Harry could give other three year olds a run for their money in the speaking department.

Of course, that could just be the proud godfather in him talking.

When he wasn't planning the best way to murder the boy and get away with it without feeling guilty.

Harry smiled at him, jumping off the bed, his shoes padding against the floor as he walked to the bathroom. Sirius eyed him wearily, he was being far too complacent, but (he very nearly shivered) at least he wasn't going back to his 'no phase' which he still hadn't grown out of. But it was on and off (thankfully or unthankfully, take your pick), one moment he'd follow your instructions to the tee, the next, he'd be screaming about how he didn't want to. It got real old, real fast.

He walked over to the set of drawers beside the bed, snorting at the mess that Harry seemed to make. With a flick of his wand, each of the shirts that Harry had tossed to the floor flew back into their rightful places, folding themselves in the air while on their way back to the dresser.

Harry never could keep a room clean for more than an hour.

Before an old West Hams hat could make its way to the dresser, Sirius grabbed it out of thin air, and pulled it back to him, and shut the drawers with a flick of his wrist.

If Remus was wandering around town, Harry had better wear a hat. That messy head of his screamed James Potter if nothing else.

He strolled out of the room; the hat clutched in his hands, and grinned once he saw his godson scramble out of the bathroom only a few feet away from him. He plopped the hat onto his head snuggly as he passed him, and lifted him up before he could say a word, and nearly groaned once he realized Harry put that orange shirt of his on inside out. Again.

Oh well, Sirius thought idly, no one would notice anyway.

"Want to help me with the lunches?" Sirius asked, anticipating the –

"No."

"I'll give you a free cookie," he said, reaching to the cupboard above the stove, grabbing the box of chocolate chip cookies and waggling them in front of the child's eyes.

Harry had opened his mouth, most likely to continue his crusade of rebellion, before closing it. He could either refuse to help, or get a cookie… "Cookie," he decided after a moments pause.

Sirius made a grand gesture, pulling a cookie from its confines in the box to dramatically sweep it out in front of him, holding it out to the boy as if it were the Holy Grail. "Since you're helping," Sirius said, once Harry had shoved the cookie in his mouth, "you get to choose what we eat today."

"Pea'ut Butter?" Harry asked, swallowing the remains of his snack.

"Peanut Butter sandwiches it is," Sirius said, knowing Harry's aversion to jam.

He put the box of cookies on the counter (out of Harry's reach, he knew how that kid's mind worked), and went back to the cupboard to grab the jar of peanut butter. "Want green chips with the sandwiches Boo?" Sirius asked, already knowing the answer. It was a rare day that Sirius allowed him to eat two snacks with his lunch.

And true to his thoughts, Harry nodded his head in excitement, following the man eagerly as he walked over to the muggle refrigerator. Sirius lifted the boy up with a grunt and held him up to the fridge. Harry always wanted to help get the food down from the top of the fridge, but could never reach. Of course, this led to Sirius having to pick him up each time they needed bread, but it was a small price to pay. "Don't forget the bread Boo," Sirius said, snickering slightly as Harry pulled the bag of Sour Cream and Onion chips down, ignoring the loaf of white bread they had stacked up there.

Harry's hand flew up again, snagging the bread and pulling to his chest alongside the bag of potato chips.

"Alright then," he said, making sure that the hat was still snug on his face. "Ready?"

"Uh huh."

And with that, Sirius set the boy back down onto the floor, moving to the drawers to draw a butter knife out and the lunch boxes that he'd bought last month once Harry began begging to go eat outside.

"Are you sure you don't want jelly?" Sirius asked, grinning as he pulled two soda's out of the refrigerator. He would probably regret letting the kid eat so much junk food and sugar later, but for now, might as well try to get his mind off of the fact that there was a werewolf in town and the only thing protecting them was a football hat… speaking of which, Sirius should probably try to find his own hat somewhere…

Harry, unaware of his godfather's thoughts, quickly shook his head, nearly upsetting the hat fit snug on his head.

Sirius straightened it absentmindedly as he went about making the sandwiches.

"I don' wan' crusts." Harry implored, before he could move to put them in the plastic baggies. Sirius nodded, cut the crusts off and waved his hand over the knife. It flew into the sink.

Harry grinned.

"You already Boo?" Sirius asked, more on technicality than anything as Harry had already grabbed the packed lunches and raced to the door, jiggling with the doorknob.

Sirius summoned his own West Ham hat (thankful that there was a game on later that night), and shoved it onto his own head, shortening his hair with a quick glamour. Harry gave him a strange look to which he just shrugged and smiled, grasping the boy's hand before opening the door.

He didn't want a repeat of last time he opened the door without first making sure that Harry wouldn't try to run away or do anything stupid. The boy was nearly out the door before he even realized what had happened.

This time Sirius squeezed Harry's hand once, as if to be sure that the boy was still there, and resisted the temptation to race back inside and lock the door and never leave... but he couldn't let that fear dictate his life, and Remus being in town couldn't force the two of them to hide out in their living room for the afternoon...

Swallowing heavily, he allowed Harry to pull him out the door.