Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or Harry Potter; I make no money from the writing of this fanfiction.
Warnings: This story contains SLASH – this is defined as boy/boy or girl/girl romantic relationships. If this offends you, please do not read any further.
*This story follows Harry Potter canon up to and including Order of the Phoenix, and most of Transformers and Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. The pieces that are missing from the second movie will become apparent almost immediately.
A comment: The plots of Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows do not exist in my little world. As well, I know very little about mechanics, so anything specific that you read in this story is pretty much going to be made up off the top of my head or very vague; apologies in advance to nitpickers. On the other hand, if any of you guys out there are motorcycle buffs, I would more than welcome pointers on engine types, speed, durability, etc. Just don't kill me if what I write isn't exact ;)
Chapter 1
It started with Sirius' motorcycle.
Actually, to be fair, Harry would have to say it started when Buckbeak attacked Sirius' motorcycle, and Harry hastily let the hippogriff go, cutting his leash on the edge of a magical nature reserve in Spain. Harry returned to Grimmauld Place to a massive scolding from the Order of the Phoenix, having snuck out in order to free the creature.
It was the summer after Harry's sixth year, and incidentally the summer following Harry's sudden, instant, and even immediate decapitation of Lord Snakeface when the former Dark Lord had broken into a training area that Harry and some friends (read: DA) had warded close to the Forbidden Forest at the end of the school year. After a year of training in rage following his godfather's death, Harry had swung Gryffindor's sword first and thrown a victory party after. Harry had also told Dumbledore point-blank that if he dared send Harry back to the Dursleys, Harry would run away, escaped Death Eaters be damned. The result of this little conversation (screaming match) had Harry staying in Grimmauld Place for the summer instead of his Aunt and Uncle's. In Harry's opinion, it was not much of an improvement, but at least the wards kept the rabid fans and reporters out.
About halfway through the scolding, Harry left the kitchen, dimly hearing Mrs. Weasley screeching for him to come back and not caring. He went up the stairs to Sirius' former room, where the damaged motorcycle was. He locked the door behind him and warded it for good measure before going to Sirius' bed and reaching under the mattress for the manual he knew was kept there. During the Christmas break of his fifth year, Sirius had begun to teach him some basic mechanics with the intent of buying Harry a motorcycle of his own. As his hand closed over the old book, Harry felt the all-too-familiar lump in his throat, and swallowed harshly. His fault Sirius wasn't there to teach him all the little tricks Harry was sure weren't in the manual. . .
Harry swiped hard at his eyes and reached for the tool kit, hoping the manual would be able to tell him what to do. As he did so, his eyes fell upon a pile of travel brochures Sirius had left in the room. His godfather had shown them to him, swearing that one day soon they'd take a trip wherever Harry felt like going, just the two of them.
Sam held 7-month-old Annabelle Lennox in his lap with surprising ease. The first time her proud father had held the baby out to Sam, the boy had panicked and swiftly found a reason to flee the vicinity. The next time, Will Lennox had forced Sam onto a couch, plunked the baby in Sam's lap, and said, "Annabelle, this is Sam. Sam, this is Annabelle. Play nice, you two!" before merrily leaving Sam to his own devices for a few minutes.
Annabelle liked Sam holding her, and though she was just a little too young to talk yet she had shown definite favoritism whenever Sam visited the Lennox home, by reaching for Sam whenever he was in the room, screaming if she wasn't immediately handed over to him, and smiling like an angel as soon as she was. The only other person she reacted to in this manner, amusingly enough, was Ironhide. She would coo and clap her hands when the old Cybertronian soldier transformed in front of her, not scared of the massive being in the least. Ironhide had proven himself to be a complete softy where Annabelle was concerned, much to the amusement of Will.
It did not amuse Sarah Lennox. The first time Sam had met the woman, his immediate thought had been that she had to be at least as brave and strong as Will was – and she was gorgeous on top of that. Will definitely had good taste. That impression had not lessened, but accompanying it now was the knowledge that Sarah Lennox was very stubborn and very set in her ways – which wasn't always a good thing when dealing with giant alien robots that could change the local scenery in a matter of seconds by aiming a rocket canon at it. Sarah did not want the baby around Ironhide, did not want soldiers guarding her private property, and was not happy about the fact that Annabelle favored Sam so much, when Sam was the one responsible (in Sarah's eyes) for introducing Will to giant alien robots.
Sam winced as Sarah's voice rose in response to Will's frustrated tone. This was not the first fight between the couple that he'd had to tune out. He closed the door to the nursery, which blocked most of the sound, and turned on the stereo which currently had an MP3 player connected to it. Piano music started playing, and after a few strains Sam recognized it as Mozart – which was more than what he had been capable of recognizing seven months ago. Ironhide had downloaded a ton of piano and symphonic music into the MP3 player, insisting in a gruff tone that music was documented to help with mental development in the very young. Which was true enough, but it had made Sam and Will laugh because the cranky old mech had obviously pulled his information, when he quoted it, from an online Baby and Me article. Will had mocked Ironhide for days for being a sap.
Annabelle cooed and offered Sam a toy ring that had several brightly-colored fish dangling from it. Sam took it and danced the fish in front of her eyes, making her laugh. As he entertained the baby, Sam thought to himself that it was kind of pathetic that he was hiding in a nursery.
She hadn't said it.
Sam had come home to his parents' house at the end of his first year of college, and Mikaela had not been waiting for him. Sam had ignored his parents' wondering comments with a feeling of guilty relief that a confrontation hadn't happened. Mikaela had called and visited his parents' house a few times since, but each conversation had been strained and each meeting filled with awkward silences. They were drifting apart, and Sam didn't know how to stop it.
In the end, when he'd been dying, and the Primes had given him the Matrix of Leadership, Sam had needed Mikaela to say the words he couldn't yet – the ones they'd been teasing each other about for months prior to the shitstorm that was the Fallen. He'd needed that security, that knowledge that was beyond anything that stupid shard of the Cube could have dumped into his mind. He'd been brave and strong for nearly everyone else; he'd needed someone else to be braver and stronger.
She hadn't said it. By all reports that Will and his fellow soldiers had given Sam, she'd screamed his name, cursed the Decepticons, begged Sam not to give up – but she hadn't said I love you when the soldiers were frantically trying to revive Sam, hadn't said it when the Primes sent Sam back.
It had hurt. It hadn't really registered at first, what with the frantic cover-up once more of existence of aliens and getting Sam off the FBI's wanted list and reinstating him in school. But after, when Sam had kept an appointment for a video-chat date and she hadn't because of an emergency in her father's shop, it had registered, and it had hurt. And then the doubts had set in.
Doubts about himself, mostly. Was he not good enough for her? A lot of the time, Sam didn't see how he was – she was beautiful, and brave, and loved cars and motorcycles, and was genuinely made of kick-ass awesome. She had asked him repetitively for the words, and he'd never said them, too embarrassed or too afraid or too…something. He should have been strong enough, confident enough, cool enough to say the words without any fear.
Sam had most of Christmas break and all of his first spring semester to fret. But as much as he was down on himself, he also couldn't help but worry that maybe Mikaela didn't feel as strongly as he did. The physical pull was there, and encountering giant alien robots together was a hell of an introduction. But Mikaela hadn't, and wouldn't, say the words – and one of Sam's favorite things about Mikaela was that she was honest, and very blunt about her moods. Keeping that in mind, Sam had a true fear that while Mikaela obviously cared about him, she might not be in love with him, might not have even admitted it to herself, simply because their relationship was like nothing either of the two had ever experienced, giant alien robots not withstanding.
Avoiding his parents' house and Mikaela's chop shop was probably not what he should be doing, but after a semester of miserable doubt, Sam didn't have the courage for a confrontation with the first person he'd ever truly been in love with. The first time he'd asked Bumblebee for a distraction, the yellow bot had asked if he minded riding with him to the Lennox homestead, as Bumblebee needed to meet with Ironhide for a weapons upgrade. Sam had tagged along and greeted Will easily enough. The soldier had looked tired and frustrated, and relieved to have a visitor distract him. Sam had fled from the baby that time, and a week later when Bumblebee dragged him out to the Lennox home again (Sam later suspected an evil plot), Will had mocked him for being scared of a baby before pinning him down and forcing him to hold Annabelle.
Sam's visits had settled into a pattern of twice, sometimes three times a week. Bumblebee would drop him off and go chat with Ironhide, or wander off on his own. Sarah had asked why he visited so often once, but before he could sputter out an answer, Will had intervened and told her that it was alright with him, as he could sucker Sam into babysitting for free and give the two parents a couple of hours to take a break. Sam had rolled his eyes and Sarah had laughed, the situation defused before Sam could become massively embarrassed. Will had never asked Sam anything outright, but if Sarah didn't want Sam to watch Annabelle that day, then Will quietly found stuff around the house for Sam to give him a hand with, or he worked with the boy in self-defense lessons.
Annabelle grabbed the toy keyring from Sam's hand and waved it enthusiastically, accidentally smacking him in the face and making him wince as the hard plastic made contact. "Okay kiddo, new toy," he muttered, taking the keyring from her and snagging a teddy bear off the ground that was, oddly enough, dyed bright green. "How about teddy?" He waggled the green…thing in front of her. She laughed, accepted the stuffed animal from him – and promptly threw it across the room.
Sam sighed. When Annabelle was in a throwing mood, no toy was safe. And it really was pathetic that he'd rather pick up the toys she threw than go home to his parents' invasive questions and an all-too-silent cell phone.
AN: I am not pairing Sam and Will together, nor have I decided if I want to break up Sarah and Will's marriage. I think there's potential either way with them, because I'm of the opinion that a woman doesn't marry a soldier without being at least as strong and brave as he is, because it's the woman who gets left behind – but is Sarah's courage enough in this case? I haven't truly decided on any pairings for this story, so let me know in reviews what you think.