The second time I shared a bed with Sirius Black was when my family still had social standing. I owled Sirius and my parents owled his. They arranged for him to spend the night with us one day during the summer holidays between second and third year. We slept on the floor of my bedroom, surrounded by blankets and pillows, chocolate and crisps and half made plans for the pranks we would pull the next year at Hogwarts. We had slept contentedly, despite both waking up with sugar rush headaches, aching backs and strange tastes in our mouths.