Note:This is my first fanfic ever, I hope it's not too bad. Since English is not my first language and since I am extremely tired, there might be some mistakes.
And I don't own the wonderful world of Harry Potter and its inhabitants, but that you already know!
The girl was seated alone at a table, drinking coffee. She ought not to be older than eighteen, her jet black shaggy hair framing her heart shaped face and her feathered bang dripping in her thick black runny eye makeup. The juke box was playing a disco tune whilst the waitress was mopping the floor. The door opened and a young man entered. His long black hair, that echoed the girl's, though hers were shorter, were dripping wet from the rain outside as well as his t-shirt emblazoned with a golden bird. He shook his shaggy head like a dog, thousand of drops of rain scattering around him, and strode past the room to sit at a table next to the girl's, facing her diagonally. She took a pocket mirror out of her leather jacket and put some flaming red lipstick back on, wiping in the same movement a black mark off her face. She had been under the rain too. Then she said, over-enthusiastic:
'Hey!'
He looked at her and gave her an insolent smile. She put back her fingerless leopard skin gloves and brought a cigarette to her mouth.
'Have you got fire?' She had a strong scouse accent.
'Fire?' His grin was now huge and Sirius thought about his wand and how easily he could have dried himself and lit that stick of hers.
'Matches or a lighter, whatever'
'See you can rhyme without forcing yourself. Don't they have any?' He was pointing two girls who were walking toward her table. Both looked dozy. One of them, with a green Mohawk, leaned on the girl's table and grinned at Sirius.
'I'm Marcelline, here's Dinah,' she said as she pointed the other girl, with long bushy peroxided hair, 'and here's Lydia.' Then she turned at Lydia, the girl with shaggy black hair and said: 'Don't you have fire? And can you hand me a cigarette, I had to rip the rolling papers off mine.'
'No, I haven't got fire,' answered Lydia, who looked at Sirius. 'What's your name anyway?' She asked.
'Mommy didn't tell you not to talk to strangers?' Bloody hell, he needed a coffee or he wouldn't be able to go and pick James up. Moreover it would soon be 10 and he had to hurry to be in time. Thus he stood up to order as the three girls stared at him. However, he was not that eager to leave: he loved muggle girls.
He could hear the sound of thick heels striding towards him. Sirius turned around as Lydia put her hand on his shoulder. He noticed that she was wearing shiny black boots with heavy high heels that could have knocked him out if she had hit him in the head. He had also noticed that she was wearing a black leotard with a suspender belt. Fishnet stockings and a spiked choker necklace completed one of the wonderful inventions of the muggle world: punk girls.
'Hey ''Mommy didn't tell you not to talk to strangers?'', is the motorcycle parked in front yours?'
'Yeah, why?'
'The girls have bet that I wouldn't be able to ask you if you could take me for a ride. Thus, would you take me for a ride?' She answered.
She was smiling broadly. Sirius had rarely seen Muggles with teeth as perfect as hers. Cigarette had not yet stained her teeth that were as white as perfectly aligned. Nice teeth and polished language didn't lie; carefully hidden behind her loose appearance was the spectre of a posh upbringing. A sardonic smile crossed his face; how could he resist to a shaggy haired girl wearing a leather jacket, boots and minimalistic clothing? But James was more important than this. Mates came before chicks, this was a rule of thumb. He swallowed his whole coffee in three gulps before answering:
'Tomorrow, nine p.m, same place'
'Hey! You're not taking me tonight?'
'I can't, the world needs me'
'Okay, see you tomorrow then. By the way, what's your name?'
'Sirius,' he said as he left.
And he was gone. Lydia asked Marcelline and Dinah who were looking astonished by the course of events:
'Why did he ask me if I was serious?'