It was true dark when Sirius roared into town, short hair whipping in the wind. He slowed down, wary awakening the dead town up for, although he looked normal enough in the jeans and sweatshirt he had 'borrowed' from a church donations box, it being labeled as a hooligan straight off would probably impede his search efforts.
Sirius meandered his bike through the streets, looking for a place to crash for the night. There was even the possibility of staying in a Muggle motel since he had a little Muggle money Arabella had given him. Even a bit dirty and unshaven, he was hardly a dead ringer for his highly unflattering wanted poster from two years ago.
As he looked up at the horizon, the moonlight glancing off the church bell caught his eye.
And then he saw it: a silhouette in the bell tower.
But what would anyone be doing in there this time of night?
He sped up toward the church, still staring at the shape. Moving in closer, the activities of the tower-bound individual become more obvious. Several more people came into view, the original figure had backed away, right to the edge, and was leaning over. Just as if . . .
O my God!
Sirius was racing forward as fast as the bike would go, but the person was falling too fast, there was no way he could make it.
On the ground.
The engine gave an almighty roar as the motorcycle pelted into the air.
Just in time.
Sirius made a wild grab at the jumper, but the man had already caught him around the shoulders and swung himself onto to the bike behind Sirius, fastening his arms securely about his rescuer's waist.
Sirius felt the rescuee lean forward against him, resting his chin on the convict's shoulder.
"My hero," said a very familiar voice in his ear as they zoomed off into the night.