A/N: Here is a little one shot that I thought up while listening to a great song called Motobike. It's a kind of ode to Sirius's motobike, Harry's recklessness, and Hermione standing by him. Check out my tumblr (nauticalparamour) and I'll link the song, if you'd like to have a listen. I don't know if this successfully captured what I wanted it to...sometimes I think it's a bit too literal. I have a few more one shots that I'll be posting this summer.
I would love to know what you think, so please let me know!
Despite the lingering awkwardness of his break up with Ginny and Hermione's break up with Ron, Harry and Hermione still spent the first Christmas after the war at the Burrow. Surprisingly, it was Arthur who had insisted on it, not Molly. He didn't seem the least bit surprised or upset when he and Hermione had begun dating either.
Harry was concerned that it wouldn't be worth the trip, until he figured out exactly why Arthur Weasley had been so insistent that he come. The balding man had asked Harry to come out to the shed to receive his present.
There, in the center of the room was sitting a 1959 Triumph Bonneville T120 motobike, with a bright red bow tied around it. Not just any motobike either...Sirius's motobike. "I've been fixing it up all autumn." Arthur admitted. "Hermione helped too, I guess her father was into cars and such. Haven't managed to get the thing to fly again, but I think that your witch will be able to get it going."
Harry had stood in awe, not sure what to say. It was so wonderful to have this piece of Sirius. And to learn that Hermione and Arthur had been working on it for so long, trying to get it to work for him...well, it was well worth a night of enduring Molly's snide comments.
He wasn't able to rid the bike until the first week of January, as he'd accompanied Hermione to Australia to visit her parents - who, once found, were quite content to stay in the sunshine and heat of Australia. But, at the first chance that he got, he took the motobike out.
The motobike felt better than anything to ride, while Harry raced down the streets of muggle London, his heart racing as he weaved in between cars and buses, going well over the posted speed limit. He wondered if Sirius had experienced the same emotional rush, when he was riding it as a teenager.
It was honestly, better than flying, the speed on the ground seeming so much faster than what he was able to achieve on a broom, not to mention, he loved getting to experience all the sights and sounds of the city.
He was so overwhelmed that he certainly didn't notice the patch of ice on the cold January streets up ahead. The tires, unused to the change in friction, skidded, and before he knew it he was slipping, sliding, crashing across the ice.
It hurt, but it didn't take away the absolute exhilaration that he'd felt moments before. Pushing himself up from the icy streets, he noticed right away that he's knee was skinned, his jeans ripped open, and his blood staining the denim.
Next, looking to his arm, he could readily tell that it was broken. He'd had enough Quidditch wipe outs to know when he'd broken a bone. Unfortunately, he'd never learned any healing spells. He'd have to show Hermione.
He righted the bike, kicking it back to life, and rode home to Grimmauld Place. The pain in his arm was forgotten as soon as he felt the wind on his face. He couldn't keep the grin from his face the whole way back to the fidelus protected townhouse in London.
He put the motobike away in the shed in their garden behind the house, wincing as he bumped his arm against the door. Cradling it against his body, he made his way back up the steps, hoping that Hermione wouldn't be too upset to see that he'd crashed the motobike on the very first day he'd ridden it.
Harry found his girlfriend in the kitchen, Hermione only had to look at him with that destroyed look on her face for him to know that she was heartbroken. Heartbroken because he was hurt again.
Hermione only had to look at Harry for a microsecond, taking in his awkwardly angled arm and his bleeding knee to know that he'd crashed the motobike. Resisting the urge to place her hands on her hips and give her boyfriend a lecture, she instead urged him to sit at the kitchen table while she summoned some dittany and skele-gro.
She couldn't hide the smirk at his groan of pain when she reset his arm. Serves him right. She was also amused to learn that skele-gro still tasted horrible.
But, she also couldn't hide the giggles when her boyfriend insisted on removing his jeans so she could get a better look at the terrible gash on his knee. She lovingly applied the dittany, and when he was completely healed, he pulled her up on to the table to kiss her silly.
Harry rarely took the motobike into the wizarding world, because most witches and wizards were not used to or welcoming of a muggle contraption speeding down the cobbled stones of Diagon Alley. But, when he did ride it, he always made sure to drive past Remus's little bookshop.
Remus, after the battle, had used his Order of Merlin money to open a used bookshop in Diagon Alley, glad that for once he was able to set the hours, giving himself plenty of time off during the full moon. It was actually doing quite well, to everyone's immense joy.
Harry loved to speed past Remus's shop because the old werewolf would always hear the rumbling engine blocks away with his lupine hearing. He'd come out of the bookshop and would shake his fist at Harry when he would race past, calling after him to slow down.
But, Remus was never able to keep the smile off of his face, and Harry wondered if it brought up happier memories of his life, when he and Sirius and his dad were just teenagers, riding on that same motobike.
Did he perhaps remind Remus of a younger James or Sirius, with their long haircuts and carefree smiles, enjoying something as simple as the wind in their faces?
This was the thought that caught Harry when he sped around the bend towards Remus's shop, and he completely forgot to lookout for the loose stone. When the front wheel hit the divot in the road, it sent Harry and the motobike flying, skidding to a stop right at the feet of one Remus Lupin, smirking down at him, as if to say, I told you so.
Harry was a bit bashful when he looked up at his former Professor, who helped him up with an offered hand. He winced, seeing the painful bit of road rash on Harry's back. "Harry, how many times have I told you to slow down?" He asked, reproachfully.
The black haired boy couldn't do anything but shrug. "I know, but it's just so much fun to ride it."
Remus couldn't hold back a chuckle. "I know Harry, I used to ride around on that with Sirius when we were younger." He observed the younger man, a tight nostalgia settling in his chest like a vice. "But, Sirius was just as reckless as you are with that bike. That's why," he fiddled around behind the counter, "I dug this out for you."
Harry was surprised to see a worn black leather jacket. Gladly accepting it, he could feel the magic in the fabric. "Wow, thanks so much." He said with a grin.
"It was Sirius's." Remus told him with a fond smile on his face. "It was a present from your dad and I...it's got all sorts of charms in it to help protect your body if...when you crash." Remus knew Harry well enough to know that this little spill he took had happened before and would happen again. He was a bit choked up, thinking about his two friend who had sadly gone much too soon.
Harry himself was a bit choked up about sentiment. It was absolutely wonderful to have something else of Sirius's and he was glad that Remus had been willing to share it with him. "Thanks Remus, it means a lot."
Remus nodded with a grin, an unsubtle sniff doing little to hide the emotion that had gathered in his head. "No problem. Just promise that you'll actually wear it. I don't want you to leave that beautiful witch alone if you crash too hard one of these days." Suddenly a wry grin came over his face. "Actually, on second thought, maybe I'd have a chance with her with you out of the picture…" Remus teased.
Harry elbowed him in the side. "Oi! No untoward thoughts about my witch." He teased back, knowing that Remus wasn't actually interested in Hermione, having his own wife and son at home. "Speaking of Hermione, I better get going back to her. We have a hot date tonight."
Even though Harry hadn't said a word about the Potter heirloom ring that had been burning a hole in his pocket, Remus still gave him an affectionate smile and wished Harry good luck. If he had his way, Hermione would agree to spend the rest of her life with him, tonight.
If there was one thing Harry loved more than riding the motobike, it was riding on the motobike with Hermione. She was firmly nestled against his back, his arse pressed against the warm junction between her jean clad legs, her arms wrapped around his trim waist. She'd even shove her hands in the black leather jacket, oestensibly to keep warm.
She would insist that he take it easy every time that they went for a ride, but then she'd squeal and wrap her body around him tighter when he'd rev the engine. Her bright laughter was music to his ears as they sped around the streets of London.
By the time that it was over, she'd sigh whistfully as she got off the motobike and tell him, chagrined, that she'd stop going on rides with him if he didn't slow down. But, she'd always happily climb aboard the next time that he asked.
During this particular ride though, he felt Hermione pinch his side and hiss into his ear. "Harry, slow down! The police are following us." She insisted.
Harry took a little look in the mirror and saw that the muggle police were indeed following him. He grinned and shook his head. "Don't you worry Hermione, they can't catch me." He insisted, before speeding off, weaving in and out of traffic.
He felt her squeezing, holding onto him, for dear life, but he knew that he wouldn't let Hermione fall off the back of it. It was an exciting chase, up and down the streets of London, glad that he'd spent all that time reviewing street maps, so that he knew exactly which backways and alleys to take, all the while the police sirens blaring after them.
Hermione even laughed when she saw a police cruiser skid the wrong way when Harry made a quick right turn down a side street. He knew that his fiancee was a bit of a rule follower, she found breaking the rules to be quite exhilarating.
By the time that the police had chased him all the way back to Islington, he'd gotten a head start enough that he was able to pull into the garden of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, effectively hidden from the muggles.
He pulled Hermione off the back of the motobike and planted a kiss on her lips. "Now that was a good ride." He told her. "Though, was that a good enough reasoning for you to work on the spells that will get this old thing to fly again?"
"Oh, and you think that would make more sense to the muggles? If you just suddenly took flight?" She asked, pressing her lips against his again, in a passionate kiss, the adrenaline still pumping through her veins.
"Well, there would need to be a cloaking charm of some sort." Harry whispered against her lips, trying to stop the grin on his face. "You know, I understand that my dad and Sirius used a similar tactic against the muggles once before. I'm confident that it would work."
Hermione bit her lower lip, before pulling him towards the steps. "Have I ever told you how sexy I find you in that jacket?" She asked, a quirk to her lips.
Harry grabbed her hand, eager to get her upstairs into their room, where they could continue their discussion on the bed, with her legs wrapped around his waist again. "You haven't...but, I had picked up on it." He revealed to her. "Why did you think the frequency of our little rides have been increasing?"
She was breathless by the time he had her on her back, stripped of her clothing, and blush on her cheeks. "You're incorrigable." She whined he nibbled on her neck.
He ground himself against her, hissing at the heat between her legs. "You can always back out of the wedding." He teased her, kissing her on the nose. "You still have a week to change your mind."
Hermione pulled him down to catch his lower lip between her's. "Never."
Harry thought that April might be the best time to ride the motobike, he thought, the spring air running through his perpetually messy black hair, while he cruised around on the streets. You could finally see hints of sunlight and the world was an explosion of bright green.
Plus it meant that with warmer temperatures, ladies would be shedding their coats and jackets, revealing themselves to the world. He grinned, seeing some pretty girls giggling as he sped past them. Deciding to be cheeky, he lifted his hand and waved his fingers at them, sending them into another bought of laughter. What? He was very happily married and wouldn't give any woman but Hermione a second look.
It seemed, though, that with his hand off of the handle bars, though, he lost control of the motobike after turning the corner and he could feel the bike slidding out from underneath him. Why was it always on the corners? He thought to himself, groaning at the feel of his skull coming into contact with the pavement.
He lifted his fingers to his forehead and sighed, seeing the blood on his fingers. He took a further inventory of himself; he'd brusied his hip and he had a nasty bit of rash on his arm. Hermione was going to be pissed. He should really learn some basic healing spells.
Lifting the bike, he got back on it, speeding off to return to Grimmauld Place. Hermione was actually sitting out in the garden, reading a book on the originations of wizarding naming ceremonies when he got back. She took one look at his appearance, before heading off the the kitchen to get her dittany.
"Thank you, love." Harry said, giving her a sheepish smile, before resting his hand on her pregnant belly. They were due to welcome a son in just a few months.
"Honestly Harry." She said, unable to hide her smile. "You are so accident prone. I got you a helmet." She told him, summoning a black helmet from the other room. Harry caught it in his hands before trying it on, but unable to look at his appearance without a mirror.
"I will wear it." He told her, not needing to know how he looked. Hermione wouldn't have him wear it unless she thought it necessary, and honestly, after all the spills he'd taken he was inclined to agree with her. "I promise."
"You better." Hermione told him, hands on her hips. "Or I'll take Remus up on his offer to marry him. Tonks and I would make excellent sister wives, don't you think?" She bit her lip, hiding a giggle.
"Never!" Harry said, with mock fury. "Tonks is much too possessive. You wouldn't last a week!" He teased her, knowing that his wife wasn't serious about her threats. His face looked solemn after a moment. "I can stop if you want. Give it a rest now that…" He trailed off, his eyes again drifting to where his son was growing.
"Nonsense." Hermione said, sitting down on his lap. "I would never ask you to do that. I would never even ask you to slow down, because, well...I know you wouldn't listen to me, but also, I know that its what you love. And it means you're closer to Sirius." She ran her fingers through his messy black hair, in a half-heart attempt to tame it.
"How did I get so lucky as to have you as a wife, Hermione?" Harry asked her, holding her tight against on his body. If he thought the bossy little know it all he'd met when he was eleven would one day be his wife and future mother of his child, he would have been gobsmacked. But, by fourth year she was easily the most important woman in his life.
"Oh, I'd say surviving the killing curse, a crazed dark wizard, and a manipulative wizard, whilst being an orphan and having your godfather die after only two years with him is probably a good karmic payment for it." She told him with a snort. Honestly, Harry had been through so much that he deserved the happiness that he had now.
Harry grinned. "Well, I suppose when you put it that way." He rolled his eyes, still knowing that even with everything he'd been through, Hermione was a wonderful witch, who deserved to be treated especially well. She'd been by his side the whole time, something that not even Ron could boast.
Hermione stood in the garden at Grimmauld Place with James on her hip. His child was a little carbon copy of himself, with only Hermione's warm brown eyes to show exactly who his mother was. It was James's one year birthday, and though Hermione was reluctant, she'd agreed to let their son go on a ride on the motobike.
Well, not on the motobike, but rather in the little side car that Harry had spent all winter retrofitting for this specific purpose. Harry knew that she wouldn't have agreed to let her baby in the side car unless it was safe.
So after she'd buckled him in his little car seat, she got to work on double, triple, quadruple checking all of the charms. "Hermione, you performed the charms yourself, don't you trust them?" Harry asked, knowing that this was a big deal.
She gave him a nervous smile. "Yes, of course, I just worry. I don't want either of my boys to get hurt." She told him with a guilty smile. He knew that she'd been secretly adding all kinds of charms to the motobike itself, including a stay-upright charm. Harry hadn't crashed his motobike in almost a year.
Which, when he considered it, was probably for the best. It always broke her heart whenever he came back bleeding and scraped, the motobike needed minor repairs from crashing into the pavement.
Giving her a kiss on the forehead after buckling his helmet in place, he gave her a smile. "Don't you worry your pretty little head, Hermione. I will be with him the whole time and I promise I won't let anything happen to James. Or myself." He said with a grin, knowing that as soon as he got out of the garden, he would be speeding off through London again.
"Alright, just, slow down a little bit?" She asked, giving him a kiss on the lips, knowing that he would try, but wouldn't be successful. Harry loved that motobike more than most things. Turning, she placed a little bubble charm over the top of the sidecar, so James was encapsulated within it, but could still see his surroundings.
Harry agreed, kicking the bike to life, before roaring off down the pavement.
He'd never slow down.