Disclaimer: Not mine, but Buddha says it's only a matter of time.
RANDOM EVENT OF THE CHAPTER
Recommended Listening:
- Ride on shooting star by The Pillows
- Radar Love by Golden Earring
- Highway Star by Deep Purple
- Driver's High by l'arc~en~ciel
- Heaven's Drive by l'arc~en~ciel
Dedication(s): (which I forgot to do in the first chapter, because that would make sense, and we can't have that, now can we?) To Rainsong, who is as good at writing as she is at giving advice and to Caitlin, Kayla, Sarah and Heather, my real-life Marauders, who will no doubt recognize themselves popping up now and then in cameo appearances...heheh.
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Chapter 2: Highway Star
Sirius observed the speedometer with calm indifference as it climbed, noting that should he hit a solid object going at his current speed, his death would probably be instantaneous. Not exactly a comforting thought, but then again, he was wearing a helmet, so his good looks would probably be preserved.
Live hard, die young, leave a good looking corpse, Sirius thought to himself, mentally thanking James Dean for giving him a motto.
Checking the speedometer again, Sirius decided that 95 miles per hour was a damn fine cruising speed, and stopped accelerating. After all, he was venting over the completely unjust treatment he had received over the course of his evening. First he'd been humiliated by his oldest and dearest friends, then sent on a cruel and unusual mission, which had cumulated to his being called a woman by some old crone, who had promptly sneezed in his face.
All in all, he felt horribly violated. As far as Sirius was concerned, his pride, dignity and self-esteem had all been annihilated with extreme prejudice. All he had left was his sexiness, but even that had probably been compromised when the old bird had flung her snot on his face, because who knew what disease she'd been carrying?
Sirius resisted the strong urge to check in his mirrors for signs of developing leprosy.
The only good thing about the entire situation was that things couldn't possibly get any worse. The second this thought formed in Sirius' mind, he felt like crying, for he knew that this theory would backfire most spectacularly on him. When would he learn that challenging Murphy's Law would only cause the wrath of the heavens to rain down upon him?
Probably never, the Animagus sulked, his fingers itching to squeeze the throttle. The need for speed was a hard thing to ignore, so Sirius soon found himself watching the infamous speedometer climb up to 100 miles per hour, where he forced himself to stop. For now.
After about 10 minutes of breakneck speed, Sirius felt himself relax. He loved his motorbike more than he could put into words, and felt he had ample reason. D.B. was a high-performance, beautifully designed piece of machinery in his own personal opinion, which was only slightly biased. But then again, he wasn't the only one to worship D.B. Sirius' biker gang acquaintances had often told him that she's sure a great machine, Black, really sexy on more than one occasion.
Sirius didn't have problems accepting compliments (practice makes perfect, and he did get a lot of practice), but he did have problems seeing how an inanimate object could be sexy. He assumed it was a good thing, but was if it was really some sort of sick fetish? Sirius couldn't get his mind around it - he was very sexy, girls were sometimes sexy, but a motorbike? Was there any precedent for that?
Unfortunately, his musings were cut short when he noticed that D.B. was gradually gaining altitude.
Weird, he thought, mentally going over the times the same thing had happened in the past. The only event that came to mind was the time when his duffel bag had fallen off the back of D.B. during a trip to Remus' house... But his duffel bag wasn't with him currently.
Sirius thought harder, trying to figure out how this applied to the present situation. Something that fell off...
Then it hit him, like a wet fish slapped across the face. Sirius slowly looked down at England below him, his horror mounting faster than the speedometer ever did.
And there it was, his hard-earned package of diapers, in the middle of a graceful descent towards Earth.
For a second, all Sirius could hear was D.B.'s throaty rumble, the wind whipping around his ears, the pounding of his heart and the silence of the diapers hurtling through the sky towards the ground - the mute scream of his future being flushed down the toilet.
Then, Sirius let out a string of expletives he felt were entirely appropriate to the situation. He plunged his hand into his jacket pocket, frantically searching for his wand. His fingers found the stick-shaped object quickly, and he brandished it without looking, uttering the charm that would save his diapers.
Thank God for Wingardium Leviosa,' Sirius breathed, infinitely grateful to whoever had invented the levitation charm. His eyes followed the diapers' trajectory, and he was more than a little confused as to why they were continuing to fall at an alarming rate.
Sirius shook his wand a bit, hoping it would react in the same positive manner his bike did when he kicked it, then tried again. Nothing.
It was Sirius realized he was holding a pencil.
The universe hated him, there was no other possible explanation.
*1977 - Summer of 6th year*
The universe hates me, James. There's no other possible explanation.
James Potter stared up at his live-in best friend from his position sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor. Sirius lay sprawled across James' once-neatly made bed in an angst-ridden fashion, arm thrown over his face. Every so often he would repeat these two sentences, and James was starting to get annoyed.
Sirius, I'm sure the universe realizes that it has no reason to hate you from its divine perspective, seeing as though there are many non-omnipotent people here on Earth that are willing to perform the same service.
This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as Sirius moaned theatrically before responding.
So hating me is a service now, is it? I suppose there are job applications and everything... he pouted, rolling off the bed and taking half the bed cover with him. James dodged a stray foot as Sirius flopped down on the floor beside him, a mass of heavy fabric and teenager. Though it does sound like more fun than working at a gas station...
Come on - it won't be that bad and you know it, James reasoned, as Sirius attempted to make a poncho with the bed cover. It's not the end of the world as we know it, Siri. Just admit it, it'll be a good experience, working as a gas attendant.
I'd prefer the experience of holing myself up in your room for all eternity like some sort of urban hermit, thankyouverymuch, Sirius moped, peeking out at his friend from beneath the impressive pile of cloth that now included not only the bed cover, but the sheets as well. He reached for the comforter folded on a chair next to James' bed.
Don't you think you've had enough, James chastised, getting up and removing the comforter from Sirius' immediate reach. Get up. We're going downstairs to tell my mum that you'll do it.
Sirius questioned, sounding immensely skeptical. Are you sure your participation isn't going to end with throwing me down the stairs?
The stag Animagus merely smirked, responding with a cryptic:
We'll see.
Can I take my bed cover and sheets?
You mean MY bed cover and sheets? No. You've now been officially cut off.
Sirius sulked, extricating himself from his fabric shelter.
Sirius was surprised when James did not throw him down the stairs, but in fact accompanied him to the family room, where Mrs. Potter sat reading. She looked up from her book (Why Our Bickering Is Utterly Misunderstood: A Memoir*) as they entered. James sat down in the sofa opposite her, and Sirius followed suit, looking like someone walking off a gangplank.
Mrs. Potter began, addressing Sirius. Have you thought it over, Sirius?
Sirius nodded, feeling a bit guilty over his previous sentiment towards her request. All she wanted was for him to get a summer job at the nearest gas station, after all. He supposed he owed Mrs. Potter at least that much, considering his behaviour the previous summer. Sirius had practically moved into her home without a moment's notice, and the woman hadn't even blinked (long since conditioned, no doubt, to the highly random behaviours of her son and his friends). He realized that he'd never be able to look Mrs. Potter (or James, for that matter) in the face again if he said no.
I-I've decided to apply at the gas station tomorrow. Morning, Sirius added quickly, knowing Mrs. Potter had a soft spot for early risers. She beamed at him, clearly pleased.
I was so hoping you would. Now, James, Mrs. Potter began, and James did a very accurate dear-in-the-headlights impression (while Sirius suppressed the mad desire to snicker). Where are you going to work?
James did a double-take, glanced at Sirius, found no comfort in the sadistic way he was grinning, gulped and faced his mother.
Pardon me, Mum?
Well, it's only fair that I treat you the same way I treat Sirius, she explained, to Sirius' emphatic nodding. James adopted an incredulous look, clearly not liking that one bit.
How is that fair? I'm your adored son; he's - James made a rather violent gesture towards an innocent-looking Sirius - the idiotic, ungrateful, irritating friend of your adored son! Even his own parents think he's a ne'er-do-well, for heaven's sake! He's rude, impulsive and inconsiderate - just look at how he pretty much invited himself to live here, Mum! No warning or anything - he's just feeding off your good-nature, like a leech or something! And remember when he broke that lamp last week? He's a menace - I'd have kicked him out a long time ago. He's like a destructive, free-loading, unappreciative plague! Plagues don't get treated fairly, Mum, they get eradicated from the Earth!
Mrs. Potter merely raised an eyebrow.
Gee, Prongs, thanks for being a friend, Sirius intoned sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
James, I'm going to ignore that speech, creative as it was, and assume you're going to the gas station tomorrow morning with Sirius to apply for a job, Mrs. Potter said, calmly as you please. Oh, and I'd advise the both of you to dress nicely tomorrow if you want to make a good first impression, they are important, you know.
Then she picked up her novel and resumed reading.
James and Sirius took their leave quickly, elbowing each other all the way up the stairs.
/the next morning/
I have nothing to wear! Sirius wailed, effectively shattering the peaceful morning. James, already dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, gazed upwards, unsure whether he had the patience to deal with this.
Sirius, you have, like, sixteen thousands suits.
Yeah, disco suits!
Disco suits, James! That's all I brought with me from The Crypt, the black-haired teenager explained, using his pet name' for his previous dwelling. James stared at his friend, then shook his head as if to clear it.
Let me see if I'm understanding the situation: the only dress outfits you packed and brought to my house are disco suits. And that the rest of your formal wear is back at Grimmauld Place, James stated. Sirius nodded miserably. You are the thickest, most unthinking -
James didn't even bother to finish his sentence, as Sirius had already found the solution to his problem.
Screw it - I'm wearin' leather! he proclaimed, doing justice to his devil-may-care attitude.
Minutes later, they were strolling down the street, James in his white dress shirt and black slacks, Sirius in his jeans and leather jacket, complete with his prized Ray Ban sunglasses.
Damnit, Padfoot - you make me look like a schoolboy, James grumbled as they rounded a corner. Why is it always all or nothing' with you?
Sirius only grinned.
They arrived just in time for James' interview, which left Sirius alone to explore the suburban gas station.
What he found didn't exactly thrill him. For one thing, the loo was a no-go. Secondly, the food in the convenience store was atrociously overpriced. Thirdly, no one seemed to be stopping by to fill up, so Sirius couldn't people-watch, an activity he thoroughly enjoyed.
After doing the full circle of the establishment, Sirius set about exploring the seedy underbelly of the gas station. To his great disappointment, there didn't seem to be one. The only rooms were the manager's office, the unapproachable bathroom and, if it could be counted as a room, the cashier's desk. (The cashier himself was a rather disgruntled-looking teenager with a mullet, who Sirius opted not to talk to, since he found mullets to be the work of the Devil.)
Thus, Sirius was immensely bored by the time James' interview ended, reduced to playing with his sunglasses to pass the time.
Mr. Black? We're ready to begin your interview, the manager finally announced, holding the door open for Sirius, who wondered who referred to, as the manager was clearly the only one interviewing him, and he was certainly not royalty. He also wondered where James had gone off to. (Sirius assumed his friend had embarked on a mission to find entertainment in the gas station, not unlike his own fruitless one, and wished James luck.)
Sirius entered the office, which contained a potted plant that was obviously in the process of dying, a cheap wood desk and two cushionless chairs. The manager sat down behind the desk after he and Sirius shook hands, introducing himself as Claude Winchester.
Winchester, great - hope he's not some sort of gun-toting, psycho manager, thought Sirius, eyeing the bald, fifty-something year old with disguised suspicion.
Well, now, Mr. Black, your resume states that you currently go to a prestigious boarding school, is that correct?
The teen blinked, confused as to when he had ever handed in a resume, since he'd only told Mrs. Potter yesterday that -
Mrs. Potter. She'd known he was incapable of refusing, so the conniving woman had sent it in for him. Sirius didn't know whether to be angry or reverent.
Yes, that's right. I've only got one year left till I graduate, and then its university for me! Sirius explained, figuring he might as well run with the muggle thing, but desperately hoping a name for this prestigious boarding school' wouldn't be required.
University, eh? In what field?
Sirius replied immediately, not having a clue what that was but assuming it had something to do with the movement of the stars or some divination crap.
Mr. Winchester stared at Sirius incredulously for a few seconds before continuing. Well, at least it isn't rocket science, eh? Eh?
He then began to laugh uproariously. Sirius offered a few weak chuckles, trying not to look or sound as confused as he felt.
Right, good one, sir... he told the manager, wondering if James had noticed how insane the man clearly was.
The rest of his interview was hugely boring by Sirius' standards (which, granted, also considered a day without pranking a day wasted). It was rare that he was asked a question he could respond to legitimately, so most of the time he had to improvise his answers. By the end of the interview, Sirius had established himself as a badminton-loving, outdoors-y type amateur astrophysicist/garage band lead singer. Who spoke French (which was true) and Yiddish (which was a stretch, although he could tell people to explode themselves in the language). He wore leather because his family owned a cow farm, and it was all they could afford, naturally. (This statement of poverty had turned out to be a bad choice, since it had prompted several uncomfortable questions about his Ray Bans, which he had found in the garbage at the country club where he had played his first badminton tournament. Obviously.)
Despite all this, he must have sounded pretty convincing, since Mr. Winchester hired him in the end. (Sirius wished he would also hire a gardener to water his dying potted plant, which Sirius, at the height of his boredom, had identified as a spider plant.) He would start work the following evening at midnight, Mr. Winchester informed him, as he would be working the graveyard shift. This title sounded ominous to Sirius, but who was he to judge.
He exited the office feeling fairly good about himself, and immediately began to search for James. Sirius' search ended quickly, as James was standing near the front of the store, observing the mullet-wearing cashier with a forlorn expression. Sirius stopped beside him, and they watched the cashier together.
Can you believe it, James croaked, that's going to be me tomorrow evening!
Sirius offered pragmatically. You get the midnight to eight shift?
James looked relieved to hear this, and held out his hand for Sirius to shake. Sirius took it, and they exchanged a hearty, if not sarcastic, handshake.
/the following evening/
James tapped his fingers against the plastic counter, trying to remember the last time he had felt so bored. Sirius was trying to get into the manager's office, as he was on a commando to try to save the spider plant from certain death.
Sirius screamed, completely out of the blue. James leapt a foot in the air, fully prepared for a tank to come crashing into the convenience store. What time is it?
You fucking nearly gave me a coronary, you git!
Sorry. So, what time is it? Sirius asked again, not sounding very apologetic. James snorted derisively.
Oh, yes, I'm definitely going to give you the time, especially now after you've put me at risk for heart failure. He rolled his eyes, then noticed something interesting on the wall over the doorway, something that made him want to liquefy Sirius' organs. Oh, look Padfoot - a clock! Imagine that! Now you don't have to scream at random people for the time anymore, isn't that grand?!
Sirius gazed up at the clock skeptically.
Cripes, it's only ten after one... I dunno, James. If I look up at that clock, I'll have to crane my neck upwards, and that could hurt after a while. But if I just ask you, I don't have to move my neck at all, which is a better deal, don'cha think?
James seethed, practically shaking from the effort to remain calm.
I hate you. So very, very much.
Sirius didn't seem too perturbed to hear this, possibly because the words had lost their impact around the 60th time James had said them.
And so, the monotony continued.
Finally, at around half past two in the morning, a motorbike pulled up to the station.
James and Sirius clustered around the window excitedly, hoping this newcomer would reveal to them how one used the pumps, a question which had been plaguing them ever since they got the job. They were only vaguely familiar with how a muggle gas station worked, most of this knowledge coming from Mrs. Potter, who had several muggle friends (the same muggle friends who had informed her that the gas station was looking for employees). It occurred to the two Animaguses that they should probably find out how it worked, despite the fact that the station was self-serve and that their responsibility began and ended with handling the cash register. They had nothing better to do, after all.
So it was with great anticipation that Sirius and James watched the driver dismount from his motorbike, which Sirius thought was a very spiffy machine. (But then again, maybe that was just his natural fondness for all things black and shiny talking.)
Oi, Padfoot, get a load of this sod, James nudged his friend, drawing his attention away from the bike and back to its driver. Sirius quickly assessed the man, looking for the source of James' amusement, and began to snicker almost immediately.
What the hell do you reckon he's thinking, wearing a ski mask in the middle of the summer? Sirius scoffed, grinning at James, who only shrugged in comic bewilderment.
They could hardly contain their laughter as the man entered the convenience store. He made a beeline for the cashier's desk, and began waving around a dark metal object in his hand, yelling:
All right, gimme all the money! Hurry up!
James and Sirius looked at each other, then back at the man, then at the cash register.
James wondered aloud, addressing the man in the ski mask, who only intensified his screaming.
C'mon, what are you, daft? Gimme the money or else I'll shoot, he warned. Sirius blinked, trying to make sense out of this strange behaviour.
Shoot what? Sirius stepped out from behind the desk, followed closely by James. He studied the object the man held in his hand for a minute. You mean that thing?
What the ruddy else would I shoot at you loonies?! the man shouted in an exasperated and slightly desperate voice. Sirius frowned, not liking this particular customer's attitude.
Well, you don't have to get all high and mighty about it, he scolded, crossing his arms and leaning back against the desk. James had other ideas, and walked closer to the man.
Get back!! I'll shoot, I swear I will!
James ignored this, as well as the weapon now pointed directly at his head, and continued advancing, an inquisitive look on his face. He turned to Sirius, who was equally interested in this recent turn of events.
Hey, Siri, d'you think he's holding one of those.. oh, what do they call em... one of those gun-thingies? Sirius contemplated this for a moment before nodding.
Yeah, that would make sense, wouldn't it? Wonder what it does...
Let's find out, James suggested, turning back to the man with the mysterious gun. Can I see that?
I'M GONNA BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF, YOU STUPID KID!! GET THE HELL BACK!!
Not very friendly, is he James?
You know, I have this funny feeling we're supposed to feel threatened... James said thoughtfully. Sirius, however, shook his head dismissively.
Nah. Let him shoot the gun-thingy. I wanna see what happens.
This seemed to settle it, and the two wizards stepped forward, Sirius coming up to stand beside James.
I can't take this! the gun-wielding man shrieked, not experienced in dealing with people unafraid of armed criminals. He threw down his gun and bolted from the store, racing towards his motorbike. Sirius looked stricken as James picked up the gun.
James, he's gonna take away the motorbike, he whined, clearly having formed an attachment to the machine. James gazed at his friend sympathetically, thinking that Sirius should get something out of the frustrating ordeal, as James had gotten the rather intriguing gun.
Just then, the sound of police sirens filled the air. James and Sirius shared looks of genuine confusion, before realization hit the latter.
Oooh, I must have hit the alarm-thingy under the counter when he started waving his gun-thingy at us!
Why? That's for emergencies, James demanded, surprised that Sirius had jumped to such a conclusion. Sirius shrugged uncaringly.
Beats me. Guess I just like pushing buttons when I'm bored. Or maybe it's some sort of inborn reflex I didn't know I had, that only happens when someone in a ski mask - He cut himself off abruptly, focusing his attention on the drama happening outside. The man was trying to pull out of the station onto the open road, but the police car pulled in front of his path at the last second. Sirius groaned as the motorbike went into a skid, the driver clearly trying to avoid collision. Oh, man, he's gonna kill the tires...
Sirius and James decided to go outside to get a closer look, arriving in time to hear the man in the ski mask complain:
And I would've gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for those meddling kids... Sirius shook his head matter-of-factly.
No, he would've gotten away with it if his motorbike could fly, he explained to James (who nodded in enthusiastic agreement) and the nearest police officer (who attributed it to shock). The same police officer then began questioning them concernedly.
Are you boys all right? We've called your manager, he'll be here in a few minutes -
What are you going to do with the motorbike, officer? Sirius interrupted, not caring too much about the impending arrival of their plant-killing manager. James punched him in the shoulder, giving his friend a look that clearly said: Let the nice police man talk, you dork!
The motorbike? Officer Kavanagh repeated, unnerved slightly by how calm the two teenagers in front of him were, considering they'd just been held at gunpoint. Well, it'll be impounded, then auctioned off -
You can't do that! Sirius yelped, as James slapped a hand against his forehead, deciding that his friend hadn't an ounce of patience in him.
And why not?
Because I want it, that's why! the young wizard replied, with no small amount of stubbornness. James determined that now would be a good time to step in.
Look, my friend's an idiot, but he really wants the bike. How about we trade for it - that motorbike for my gun-thingy, he offered, pulling out his newly-acquired firearm. The police officer jumped back, eyes wide.
Now put the gun down, I'm sure we can work this all out, he told James, attempting to sound placating. James frowned.
Yeah, sure - just take the gun-thingy and we'll take the motorbike! This isn't complicated, he repeated, not quite sure why the officer looked so nervous.
Shoot the gun-thingy, Prongs, show him it works. He probably doesn't want to get ripped off, Sirius suggested. James rolled his eyes at his friend, then stated the obvious.
Well, I would, Padfoot, except I don't know how it freaking works! Sirius waved his hand in a nonchalant manner.
James, what do I always tell you? Pull the trigger; it's always the trigger. He then paused. Or the red button. If there's a red button, push that.
James, however, didn't get the chance to try this, as another police officer was rolling the motorbike up to where they stood.
Okay, boys - we're not unwilling to negotiate. Now just give us the gun, we'll give you the motorbike, everybody forgets the whole thing and goes home happy, the second officer advised, not truly caring if that went against protocol. It was nearly three in the morning, the end of their shift, and damned if they were going to worry about a stupid motorbike that some dumbass kid wanted.
That's what I told you guys, James complained, peeved beyond even his legendary endurance. Sirius was in the throes of ecstasy as he took the handlebars of his newest possession, oblivious to his friend's vexation. Take the bloody thing!
The unfortunate police officer barely caught the gun that was thrown at him at high speed, to James' small joy.
Mr. Winchester pulled up at that moment, dashing from his beat-up Mini towards James and Sirius, who were preparing to leave.
Boys! Are you hurt? Did the police catch the robber?
Robber? Were we being robbed? James asked Sirius, who pondered this for a moment before realizing he didn't care, as long as he had his motorbike. James made the arbitrary decision that the man had, in fact, been trying to rob them. Yeah, the police caught him.
That's wonderful! And you two are sure you're fine, the manager pressed, not wanting to lose his newest employees. You'll be coming back to work tomorrow evening, right?
James laughed in his face before climbing onto the motorbike behind Sirius. He estimated his mother wouldn't be too angry that they quit after they had been yelled at so much (not to mention nearly being robbed on their first shift).
Hey, Sirius, do you know how to drive this thing? James asked in an offhanded way, not really concerned.
I'll figure it out as I go along, and she's not a thing, she's D.B.
Yeah - you know how muggles always name their boats and stuff after women? I'm willing to bet it's the same thing for motorbikes, Sirius explained.
What woman do you know by the name of D.B.? James continued, not quite sure how Sirius had come to all these conclusions, but entirely willing to go along with it.
I don't - it's an acronym.
Is it now, the spectacle-wearing teen stated, interested. For what?
Daft bint.
No wonder you don't have a girlfriend... James mused as they roared off into the night, Sirius apparently having figured out how the motorbike worked.
So, James, Sirius began, ignoring the jab about his lovelife, or lack thereof. Know any good flight charms?
*end flashback*
Without even bothering to pause this time for dramatic effect, Sirius pulled his beloved D.B. into a nosedive, ignoring the protests of common sense (in particular the one voice that kept asking: Is your life really worth diapers?). The engine rose to the challenge marvelously, and he was level with the diapers within seconds. Grabbing them ferociously, Sirius felt a keen sense of relief overwhelm him.
That was before he saw the chimney.
Sirius didn't even have the presence of mind to curse as he practically flung himself (and the diapers) off the bike in a last-ditch effort to turn it in time. His effort was successful, although Sirius would later swear a lasting fear of chimneys had developed from this incident.
Sirius told himself as he rocketed D.B. upwards. He looked at his speedometer.
he repeated, clearly surprised his motorbike went that fast. Sirius suddenly became aware of the numbing pain spreading in his fingers, as well as an acute sensation of nausea. Carefully, he loosened his white-knuckle grip on the throttle until his speed was safer. Sirius did not, however, relinquish any slack to the pack of diapers he clasped in his other hand. (Oh sure - steering a motorbike with one hand was risky, but Sirius thought the risks balanced themselves out quite nicely when one considered what had happened when he'd given priority to the motorbike over the diapers.)
The rest of the ride back to the Potters' house was a lot worse than it should have been, as the nausea Sirius had experienced was only growing steadily worse. He began to have difficulty keeping D.B. flying straight, but attributed this sudden motion sickness to the rather impressive flying stunts he had just pulled.
Had Sirius been slightly more lucid, he would have realized that the nausea had not begun after his death-defying motorbike ride, but in the minutes before. Specifically, in the window of time taking place after he had left the corner store and before the diapers had fallen off. This didn't occur to Sirius at all, which was unfortunate, as knowing you are becoming very sick is often a good way to fend it off. Ah well.
Finally, Sirius parked his motorbike in front of the Potters' house in Godric's Hollow. He wavered on his feet slightly as he made his way up to the front door, but this, he reasoned, was the result of the package of diapers in his right hand, which was throwing off his balance.
Sirius had just raised his hand to knock on the door, when James threw it open, having spotted Sirius (with the required diapers) coming up the walkway.
Sirius! Way to go! To be honest, I was getting a bit worried, seeing as though it took you a bloody long time, but hey, you did it, right? ... Padfoot?
For the second time that evening, Sirius had horrified his best friend, for he had fainted, still holding his now-legendary package of diapers.
* * *
* This line belongs to Rainsong, as seen in her hilarious fic At The Opera. AtO is the most brilliant piece of dialogue I've ever read, and I strongly suggest that everyone gives it a read (and a review, of course!). Go revel in a genius much greater than my own.
Reviews:
Esper AuqaBlue: Hi, Matt. You spelled wrong. Just for future reference. ^_~
DBZ Raven: Okay, okay! No need to bring out the sharp, pointy stuff! Ah, well - at least you're easy to please (and flattering too). Thanx for the (lengthy) review.
Rainsong: Words cannot express, but thank you and you are my hero come to mind... :)
sailoranime: Just diapers? Let's hope Sirius didn't hear you say that... Yes, our dear Padfoot was mistaken for a girl, as I hope I cleared up in this chapter. Woohoo! Favorites list! *blushes* Thanks a lot!
Momo: You're such a dork!
LelahLupinIII: Thank you, and don't worry, you're not alone in the post-OotP angst. There's always AU, at least.
See, people who review get acknowledged. Now wouldn't you like that? Go review - all the cool kids are doing it.
And yes, I've decided that Sirius speaks French fluently. This was inspired partly by the Black family motto (toujours pur, which means always pure in French, but you all knew that) and partly because I'm a fluent French-speaker, too. And partly because (RANT ALERT) I'm tired of people thinking they can translate word for word, because if there's any language in which you absolutely CANNOT do this, it's French. Note: Moi amour toi doesn't mean I love you, damnit (END RANT). But then again, Remus seems more the French type, doesn't he? Ah well. Going against stereotypes is always good for shits and giggles, right? Right.
NEXT TIME: In which Sirius is bedridden, Remus rents movies and Lily decides she's so above all this. Coming soon to a webpage near you!