It's coming up to one o'clock in the afternoon, and Sirius reaches out, shaking Harry's shoulder excitedly. He hesitates for a moment, though, seeming to think, and then says, "Have you got your broom?"

"Yeah," Harry answers, nodding his head. "It's up in my room."

"Let's go for a flight," Sirius says, and he heads up the stairs. Harry's quick about putting on his cloak and his gloves, and he heads down the stairs with his broom in hand. He hasn't flown since sometime last year, and he's excited to get on his broom again; Sirius comes down with a broom in his own hand, and Harry peers at it, curiously. "It's Lucius'," he answers, and Harry nods his head. The Firebolt is of a sleek design, and it looks positively wonderful, but Harry can hardly focus on it. Sirius murmurs a few spells to ensure they're not obvious to the Muggles, and Harry grins at him.

They mount their brooms together on the doorstep, and they fly side-by-side straight up from Grimmauld Place, heading out and away from London. For a little while, they just fly together - the Firebolt is fast, and it shifts at any bare thought from Sirius, but Harry knows his Cleansweep inside-out, and he still manages to evade Sirius despite the difference in their brooms.

It feels amazing, the wind in his hair, the feel of the broom beneath him, and he laughs as he drops into a tumbling roll in the air, hearing the whistle as Sirius tries to copy him - clumsily.

Once they're out and over countryside, they slow down a little, and Sirius says, "Thought it'd be better if we didn't talk about this in the house. Molly'd go ballistic." Harry laughs a little: Sirius doesn't seem to be scared of anything at all except, sometimes, for the wrath of Molly Weasley. "What about the funeral made you think about it?"

"Nothing particularly," Harry admits, adjusting his grip on the broom and looking out over the green fields brightly lit by the sun. "I dunno, I just saw this fox in the graveyard, all hidden. I think I was the only person who saw it." Harry had never seen a wild fox before, and he had been surprised at the size of it and its surprisingly sleek, reddish fur. It had wriggled under the hedge and out of the cemetery as soon as it had seen the group of people in it, but the image of it had stuck with him. "It went completely unseen, pretty much. With Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and Lockhart..."

"Well," Sirius says. "Obviously I have to tell you that if we do this, you should register." Harry glances at Sirius' serious expression. It lasts a few seconds before Sirius begins to laugh at his own joke. Harry shakes his head, trying not to be amused at his godfather's stupid sense of humour, and Sirius asks, "You think that's what you'd be? A fox?"

"Don't know," Harry answers. "My Patronus is a stag, and that's what Dad was, right?"

"You don't strike me as much of a stag, Harry," Sirius says, looking thoughtful. His long hair is whipped back from his head by the wind and the momentum from their flight, and Harry thinks of how shaggy it is in his dog form. Will Harry's hair be eternally messy, even when he's an animal? "But we can't know until you actually transform. I should say, though, it's dangerous and it's awkward, against the rules, blah blah blah..."

"Yeah, you're doing a great job of deterring me, Sirius," Harry retorts, and Sirius grins at him. "What exactly is the process?"

"We've got some books in the Black library," Sirius says, "but there's a bit of ritual magic involved. A bit of astronomy, some runes, some potions, some charms, some mental stuff... You'd think it'd be all transfiguration, but its a whole mess of magics, really. Starting out, you need to prime your body for transformation as you study. There's a lot of meditation involved, and you have to eat some pretty awful stuff. That's the first stage."

Harry sniggers at Sirius' fond smile as he talks, and he nods his head.

"The second stage is drawing in the necessary magic. You know how magic works in that respect, yeah, you draw a little in from the world around you, bend it to your purpose, and then send it back out?" Harry nods his head. "Well, the Animagus transformation involves drawing a lot into your body without sending it out again. You have to build up a tolerance to certain magic, draw it into you. That's one of the bits that can go horribly wrong. Then, the third stage involves partial transformation, bit my bit. More meditation's involved, and you have to try and change stuff like your skin a bit at a time."

"That can go horribly wrong too?"

"Oh, yeah," Sirius says. "James had to go to Madam Pomfrey to get his antlers shaved off in fifth year, and I had a tail for about a month in the summer of '76. None of us died, though."

"That is a pro," Harry agrees, and he grasps tightly at his broom's handle, dropping himself into a barrel roll. Sirius laughs, following him, and for a while they zoom back and forth, playing a game of tag in the air. They head down to the ground after a while, and Sirius grasps at Harry's arm to Apparate him back to Grimmauld Place. The two of them linger on the doorstep for a while, and Harry says, "You gonna tell Remus?"

"If that's alright with you," Sirius says. Harry gives a nod of his head, and then Sirius asks, "You going to tell Hermione?"

"Yeah," Harry says. "Yeah, I think so. No one else, though." Sirius nods, and they move inside together. Sirius takes both of their brooms upstairs, and Harry slips into the library to take out some of the books on Animagi. He freezes as he puts his fingers on one of the leatherbound spines, utterly quiet.

"I'm merely saying, Severus," he hears Lucius say. "She's a very pretty woman." Harry tries to ignore the conversation the two men are having, scanning the titles in front of him - Order in Occlumency, Poisons For The Ideal Widow, Spiders And Their Uses, The Pride of Animagi, Dastardly Defences...

"I could not possibly care less about her physical appearance, Lucius."

"You're not that old," Lucius continues, apparently ignoring Snape's response. "There's more than enough time for you to marry. You have time to have children." Pressing his own thumb against his mouth to keep from laughing, Harry gives up reading book spines.

"I don't want children."

"Oh, come now. Your children would be so lovely, and she is a pureblood - with her good looks and your intelligence-"

"Lucius," Snape says lowly, in the dangerous tone that makes NEWT students shrink down in their seats. "Please remember that I could easily kill you." Lucius ignores him.

"Why not indulge, Severus? It's different when you have children of your own." Harry stays in his place, trying not to laugh - Snape is a very serious man, and Harry's never imagined him so much as having a heart, let alone having a love life for Lucius Malfoy to interfere in. "You could at least have her over for dinner."

"No," Harry hears Snape say, and Lucius' sigh is audible. "I am leaving."

"You won't at least think about it?"

"I will not," Snape retorts. "I will leave Aurora Sinistra to her tower." Snape sighs, and without being able to see him Harry knows that he's pinching the bridge of his nose. "I am not interested in such things, Lucius."

"But-"

"No," Snape says firmly, and Harry hears the other door open and close as Lucius and Snape leave. He lets himself laugh as he picks out the three or so books he can see with Animagi in their titles, and he's quick about dropping them onto the bed in his room, slipping out again and heading downstairs.

"What are you laughing about?" Hermione asks, and Harry leans towards her, whispering in her ear as he looks at Snape. Hermione laughs too, clapping her hand over her mouth, and Harry watches as Snape narrows his eyes.

"Potter-"

"Sir, can I ask you a question?" Harry interrupts before Snape can ask him anything. "What's Occlumency?"

"Where did you hear of Occlumency, Potter?"

"There are a few books about it in the library," Harry says innocently. Snape's knuckles whiten as he clenches his fists.

"It's a process of mental defence, Potter, against a magic known as Legilimency."

"What's Legilimency?"

"A process by which the attacker draws himself into the mind of his target, in order to understand his thoughts, his memories, and the like." Staring into Snape's furious, black eyes, Harry remembers always feeling like the older man could read minds.

"You think Professor Sinistra knows Legilimency, sir?" Snape scowls at him, and Harry offers his head of house a wide grin. He has no doubt that Snape's going to make his September Hell for this, but it's worth it.

---

"Are you seriously buying that many books?" Sirius asks, looking disgustedly from Harry's pile of volumes to Hermione's. Harry and Hermione glance from each other to their respectively modest stacks, and then nod their heads. They'd already picked out their school books for the year in Flourish and Blotts, and now they're perusing the shelves of secondhand books at Dawn's Break, the old shop where Harry had bought his Cleansweep a while back.

"Oh, here's one on Occlumency, Harry," Hermione says, passing it to him, and Harry adds it to his pile while silently handing her Miss Frizzy's Magical Guide To Natural Hair, 1981. Sirius sighs, shaking his head.

"Remus is going to be so proud," he says in a disgusted tone, and Harry laughs, picking up his stack of twenty or so books and bringing them to the counter. Despite his apparent disapproval, Sirius insists on paying for all of Harry and Hermione's books, and they step outside and into Slip's Crescent. Their books have been slipped into an enchanted satchel of Sirius', and with that bit of shopping done they're mostly finished with their school run.

"Sirius," Harry says in a quiet, wheedling tone. Sirius looks at him suspiciously.

"Harry," Sirius replies in an equally slow tone.

"If there was a shop with an ageline, but we were accompanied by an adult, do you think-"

"Oh, no," Sirius says, shaking his head. "I might be the cool godfather, but I'm not taking you into that sex shop on Fargo Alley."

"Oh, come on, we're fourteen, we're nearly adults-"

"We won't even buy anything," Hermione promises. "We just want to look-" Sirius shakes his head firmly, and Hermione and Harry both sigh. "You could maybe get us a catalogue?"

"I'm not going to peddle adult goods to my godson and his friend, Hermione. I'm not that cool. You guys need to go anywhere else?" Harry looks thoughtful. The Weasleys had split away from Sirius, Harry and Hermione, all going in search of the different things they needed, and the Malfoys had done the same: they're not actually scheduled to meet back up with everyone until five o'clock or so.

"Er," Hermione says quietly, with the slightest bit of anxiety in her voice. "If you guys don't mind, I'd like to have a look in Flockhart's Locks."

"What's that?"

"It's a hairdresser's," Harry says, leaning and looking for the sign on Slip's Crescent. Flockhart's Locks is a glass-fronted shop with sleek interiors and a neat, green tile covering its floor. It looks positively futuristic compared to the other shops along the street, and Harry glances to Sirius. "Do you mind?"

"Uh, no," Sirius says, shrugging his shoulders. "You kids go in - I'm gonna go grab Remus, alright?" Harry nods his head, and Sirius grabs his shoulder, looking at him seriously for a second. "Anything happens, Harry, and don't worry about the rules - just start hexing." The adults had all been a little more relaxed once they were all in Diagon Alley, but only Bill had gone into Gringotts, and none of them had been allowed to even go near the bank, at Mrs Weasley and Lucius' respectively stern commands.

Harry nods his head, and he lets Hermione go ahead of him into the shop. Around the room are a series of chairs in front of mirrors, and around several men and women are enchanted scissors, combs, curlers and brushes, teasing, tweaking and trimming the different hairstyles into shape. Harry watches curiously, interested - most of the children in Hogwarts have their hair cut by prefects, or cut it themselves, and Harry only knows of a few girls in the upper years who go to a more focused measures. He knows that Lucius' hair takes some more concentrated attention, and that they take appointments at a hairdresser's quite seriously, but it's never been something of Harry's concern.

His own hair keeps itself at the same length, never really growing past a length he dislikes, and he hasn't seen much reason to mess with it.

"Hello," says a friendly voice, and Harry glances up at the man in front of them. "I'm Joaquin, how can I help you two?" He's much younger than Harry had expected. He can't be that much older than Bill, in his mid-twenties, though his hair is dyed white. He wears rectangular glasses that look to be carved of some sort of bone, and his eyes are a deep, sea green.

"Harry Potter," he says, putting out his hand, and the man beams. Embedded in his right upper canine is a sparkling blue gemstone, and Harry can't help but stare at it as she shakes hands with Flockhart. "This is my friend, Hermione. She wanted to drop in."

"Oh, what beautiful hair!" Flockhart says immediately, shaking her hand excitedly. "I do hope you aren't planning to have it cut - it frames your face perfectly at this length." Hermione gives a little laugh, looking down at the ground, and Harry smiles. She isn't complimented on her looks all that often, Harry knows, but he doesn't think she's bad-looking at all, and he likes to see her smile like this.

"I actually, uh, I wanted to ask about products to straighten it a bit? Not all the time! But, uh, you know. Sometimes." Harry keeps quiet as Flockhart leads them over to a neat little coffee table before a cabinet of products: he goes through a dozen explanations, explaining charms and products, separating them by price and quality. It's not really something Harry's invested in, but he finds it interesting nonetheless - there are cabinets full of products for different kinds of hair, and he can't help but be curious about all the differences.

"And-" Hermione hesitates, her hand over her mouth, and then she says, "Do you do anything for teeth?"

"Teeth?" Flockhart repeats, tilting his head. "You mean like mine?" He points to the sapphire shining on his tooth.

"No, no," Hermione says, shaking her head. "My front teeth, they're a bit more prominent than I'd like. I'd just like a more even smile."

"Oh, of course," Flockhart says, though he seems a little perplexed by the request. "I can do that for you right now!" Harry watches as Hermione sits in one of the salon chairs, and it takes barely any time at all - Flockhart leans in front of her and murmurs a quiet charm, shrinking her two front teeth in line with the others. Hermione looks at herself in the mirror, and she beams.

"Thank you!" she says brightly, and she takes a catalogue for Flockhart's Locks from the counter as she pays. It's only a few Sickles, and Harry stops short as he peers over the counter.

"What other catalogues do you have?" he asks.

"Oh, we just have a fair variety there. People like to peruse while we do their hair," Flockhart says absent-mindedly, writing Hermione a receipt in flourishing handwriting. Behind Harry, he hears the door chime as Sirius and Remus enter, and he acts quickly, grabbing the purple catalogue at the bottom of the pile and slipping it into his bag.

He'd recognized the name of the shop embossed on its cover: Wizarding Delights: the sex shop on Fargo Alley.