8

There were neither clamouring reporters nor over eager photographers vying for attention as Harry and Sirius walked through the Atrium, heading for the floo. No crowds of people, shouting for answers. No aurors trying to arrest who they thought to be a mass murderer. A few people turned for a second glance before shaking their heads, convinced that they were seeing things, but this was all the attention the pair attracted.

"You know, I'm starting to think we needn't have bothered with the invisibility cloak on the way in, Pads," Harry said, looking around in wonder.

"I know exactly what you mean, mate. It's a good job I'm really innocent, or I could probably slaughter them all without anyone blinking an eye. It's fucking ridiculous," Sirius answered darkly.

"Keep talking about slaughter in that tone of voice and we might attract some attention after all," Harry laughed, turning to face his godfather as they reached the floo.

"Yeah, well, if it'd keep 'em on their toes, it might be worth it," Sirius said, frowning, "they've got no chance if Voldy comes back, if they can't even notice a convicted murderer wandering around in their midst."

"You're not convicted anymore though, remember? This is meant to be a happy time!" Harry exclaimed, fed up of his godfather's brooding.

"Alright, alright, I was just commenting on the shit security, no need to get your knickers in a twist, sunshine." Harry laughed at this, punching Sirius lightly on the arm.

"Where are we off to, then?" he asked, gesturing towards the floo.

"I wanna go out!" Sirius exclaimed excitedly, his mood changing swiftly as he started bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

"Umm... no offense, Pads, but I think you need a shower first," Harry said, smirking, "The Azkaban smell just doesn't fit when you now you're free."

"Hmph," Sirius pouted, "But then can we go out?"

"Sure," Harry answered, grabbing some floo powder from the pot above the fireplace.

"Grimmauld Place!" he shouted before being whisked away, followed seconds later by his godfather.

"Pads?" Harry started as they walked down a back alley towards their destination. It was the type of alley that most would be terrified to step foot in, all flickering streetlights and overflowing rubbish bins. Laughter and shouts echoed from further ahead and occasional shadowy figures barged past them as they walked, throwing insults at their backs.

"Yeah, pup?" Sirius answered, a happy smirk firmly fixed on his almost unrecognisable face. As soon as they had reached Grimmauld Place, they had found an owl waiting for them from the ministry. It carried a letter with his official pardon along with a package containing not only his old wand, but also several potions. There were strengthening potions, nourishment potions and even one to help with any post-Azkaban depression, which Sirius declined stating that it would 'take more than 13 years in Azkaban to make me depressed'. As a result, after his shower, Harry had the pleasure of seeing his godfather looking healthy, happy and handsome. A rummage through the clothes James had left Harry later and he was looking almost exactly like his old self again, albeit with a couple more wrinkles.

"You do realise I'm only thirteen, right?" Harry asked, stopping himself from flicking his wand into his hand as another stranger barged past him.

"Huh. Really? Yeah, I guess that makes sense. You look a lot older, you know?" Sirius answered, glancing over to inspect his godson. He was proud, he admitted to himself, as he saw who that tiny, messy haired baby had turned into. When he had met Harry earlier in the year, he would never had guessed that this was the man underneath, but after the last few days he knew that it was the real Harry; strong, independent, loyal. Actually, to say he was proud would be an understatement, as it was nothing short of a miracle, when one took into account the boy's upbringing. Dursley's, indeed. Bloody Dumbledore.

"Yeah, my point is that wherever we're going probably doesn't let underage kids in," Harry explained, cutting into his godfather's inner monologue. Sirius stopped, frowning for a second before his inner light bulb lit up. He pulled out his wand, smiling fondly down at it, before waving it in a complicated fashion. A small rectangle of card with Harry's face on it appeared in Sirius's hand.

"Huh," Harry said, taking the ID, "That was strangely easy." Sirius shook his head, laughing at the way his godson was still amazed by magic. How long had the boy been in the magical world? And yet he was still surprised by a bit of conjuring. Throwing an arm around the boy's shoulders Sirius led him to the end of the alley where they were met with a door and a bouncer and the echoes of music from inside the building.

"ID," the enormous man grunted, looking pointedly at Harry and ignoring Sirius. Harry handed it over, tapping his foot impatiently, wanting to get inside. The bouncer glanced at it, looked up at Harry then looked back at the ID. "Go on, then," he huffed, thrusting the card back at its owner and stepping aside to allow them to enter.

The bar was dark, loud and crowded. Old posters and flyers lined the walls and a band was playing vicious rock music on a make shift stage at one end. The patrons were mostly tattooed, outlandish and drunk as they danced, fought and laughed. It was a dive, but it was brilliant, Harry thought as he took a seat at the bar.

"Two whiskeys, love" Sirius told the barmaid with a wink, sitting down next to his godson, "Get ready for a long night, pup." They both grinned and downed their drinks, Harry grimacing at the burn. The barmaid dutifully poured them another drink each and they settled in. Sirius was right, Harry thought idly, it was going to be a long night.

The hippogriffs were rampaging around Harry's head again when he awoke the next afternoon, and he wondered if he would ever manage to get used to the feeling of a hangover. Or, better yet, find a way to avoid them completely. Besides not drinking, of course, because that would be ludicrous. Grumbling to himself about bloody godfathers and bloody whiskey, he rolled over, only to fall with a loud thump onto the floor. He opened his eyes, or at least, opened one of them. Gingerly, he felt the area around his right eye, wincing at the pain as he touched the bruised, swollen flesh. When had that happened, he wondered, pulling himself off the floor. He was in the living room, it appeared, and had just fallen off of one of the dirty couches where he must have slept. Groggily, he staggered out of the room and down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen and, he hoped, food.

"Good morning, pup!" Sirius's voice rang out loud and cheerful as Harry entered the large kitchen, "Ooh, nasty looking eye, mate," he said when he had gotten a good look at his godson.

"Jesus, have you never heard of your indoor voice?" Harry asked teasingly as he sat down at the table across from a heavily tattooed, yet extremely pretty blonde girl. He lay his head down on the table, groaning slightly at the pain in it before looking up again, confused. "Wait, who are you?" he asked, belatedly realising that she didn't live with them.

"I've been wondering that too, mate, but I thought it rude to ask seeing as I woke up next to her," Sirius said, grinning and winking at the blonde who rolled her eyes good naturedly, "So, who are you, love? And was it good for you?" he tossed in with a sly wink, causing Harry to groan in disgust and the girl in question to laugh.

"Considering I'll be gone in, ooh, about ten minutes, I doubt it really matters much who I am, but what the hell, I'm Ruby," she said, smiling at them both. Her voice was low with that husky edge to it that only smokers seemed to develop.

"Wait, you were the barmaid, right?" Harry asked, frowning in his efforts to remember the night before.

"Yup, I work there most evenings," Ruby replied, stifling a yawn. Harry and Sirius both nodded absently, Sirius going back to cooking the breakfast and Harry going back to sleeping on the table. A loud hoot dragged them out of their occupations, however, and they looked around to find a large eagle owl sitting on the windowsill and glaring around the room.

"Why do owls always have to glare?" Sirius muttered, grabbing the letter from its leg and shooing it back out the window.

"Who's it from, Pads?" Harry asked, wondering if the ministry could have changed their mind about setting his godfather free.

"Dumbledore. Wants us to go up to the school later today. Guess he knows you're living with me then," Sirius replied, still reading the end of the letter. Harry nodded once before setting his head back down on the table. He didn't much care what they did later that day as long as it was just that- later.

"Umm, guys?" Ruby asked and they both looked around in surprise, having forgotten she was there, "did you just get post from an owl?"