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A Spinner ‘Round the Block


On the lawn of a house that belonged to a muggle man stood a 1974 4-cylinder, twin-engined Triumph Bonneville motorcycle in cranberry red with a shiny headlamp and black detailing. Sirius Black sat on the wall of the church in Godric’s Hollow, across the street from the house, just staring at the beauty that was the sunlight reflecting off the shiny body of that beautiful motorbike. He sat there now, back against the stone, arms around his knees. James sat beside him, staring down at a book that was opened across his lap - a Transfiguration textbook from the past term.

Look at it, Prongs,” murmured Sirius, “Just look at it.”

“I’ve seen it, it’s lovely,” James replied without looking up at the motorbike.

Sirius licked his lips. “You know, that color is a rare one. The cranberry red? It’s limited edition. They usually come in more of a cherry, sports-car-red.”

“That’s wonderful, Pads,” James replied in a monotone, not really listening. He’d heard this already a hundred times.

“The color reminds me of Gryffindor. It’s a bloody house bike.”

“Uh huh.” Again, something he’d heard a hundred times in less than a month.

“You reckon he’d sell it?” Sirius questioned.

James said, “What’re you going to buy it with?”

“I’m nearly sixteen, surely I could get a job…”

“You’re fifteen and a half,” James corrected.

Sirius sighed.

James turned back to his book.

Suddenly, Sirius jumped up off the stone wall and started off across the street.

James closed the book. “Sirius? ….Padfoot?” He sighed and tucked the textbook into the bookbag slung ‘round his shoulders and hurried to catch up to Sirius. “Bloody hell, Pads, what are you doing?”

Sirius was in the driveway and kneeling beside the motorbike, taking a closer look at it. “Imagine this thing, magically modified, flying through the air…”

James raised an eyebrow. “You can’t even drive it. Remember last time you drove a motorbike? You ruddy exploded a house with it.”

Sirius looked over and grinned. “Yes, my dear cousin’s house.” He waved his arms in amusement and made an exploding noise, eyes sparkling. “I wouldn’t explode any houses with this bike, though, it’s far too marvelous.”

Suddenly the front door of the house opened and a muggle man came out. He was a youngish man, maybe in his twenties. Sirius and James stood up, caught in the act of being too close to the motorbike. The man was pulling on a leather jacket, very similar to Sirius’s as he walked toward them. “Hello… can I help you?” he asked, a suspicious tone to his voice.

“I’m just admiring your motorbike,” Sirius said.

The man studied him a moment, eyes looking over Sirius’s popped collar and the shine of hair product in his perfectly set mane. He glanced at the uneasy-looking James, with him unruly mop, and then back to Sirius.

“It’s the most beautiful motorbike I’ve ever seen,” Sirius added reverently.

“Thanks,” the man answered. He sidled over and swung his leg over the seat, planting his feet on the ground on either side and kicking back the stand.

“How’s it handle?” Sirius asked.

“Smooth,” answered the man.

Sirius nodded, “Like butter, I bet.”

“Sure,” the man replied. He looked at James again, then back to Sirius once more. “Hey look, mate, I gotta go. But maybe if you’re around sometime I’ll take you out for a spinner ‘round the block, alright?”

Sirius’s eyes widened, “Alright, sure mate, a spinner ‘round the block sounds groovy, man, yeah.”

James smirked at the way Sirius tried to sound cool.

“See you lads about then,” said the man and he jumped to start the bike, bringing his foot down on the little pedal and backing out the driveway as Sirius watched, practically salivating over the way the bike looked as the man backed it onto the street and drove away.

They walked back to the Potter house after that, ducking into the woods and turning into their animagus forms in the trees. Dog and Stag, ducking branches and jumping logs, they hurried along, changing back just before they got to the back door. As they trooped inside, Dora Potter was just waving her wand at the oven, withdrawing a pan of roasted potatoes from within. She looked up as they entered and James slung his bag to the floor.

“Those smell great, mum!” James grabbed a fork from the table where Dora had stacked silverware and platters and he speared one of the potatoes and shoved it in his mouth. “BLOODY HELL!” he yelled, spitting it back into his hand, “That’s ruddy hot!”

Sirius snickered.

“Serves you right,” Dora said. She turned and frowned. “Have you two been in the woods again?” she demanded.

“Of course not, mum, you said not to go --” James started, but Dora reached up and pulled him down into a half-bend so she could see his hair and removed a couple errant twigs. She held them up and he stopped talking midway through, his face splotching up a bit red and a grin crawling over his mouth, “C’mon, mum, it’s not like it’s dangerous in there.”

“You don’t know what’s in those woods!” Dora argued.

“Trees,” James said, “Moss. Logs. Rocks. Squirrels….” She put her hands on her hips in disapproval and James grinned, “Shall I continue on, then?”

Sirius snickered.

“James Charlus Potter, I swear if you give me cheek --”

But before she could give him the threat, a pot on the stove boiled over and she cried out and turned, brandishing her wand at it so that it levitated and the bubbles stopped pouring over the edge. James and Sirius hastened out of the kitchen and up the stairs, tiptoeing carefully past the Mr. and Mrs. Potter’s bedroom - where Charlus was taking a nap.

They went to James’s room - they always went to James’s room, even though Sirius had his own room - and Sirius threw himself onto the floor and lay there staring up at the ceiling, still thinking about the motorbike and the man’s promise to take him out for a spinner sometime. Sirius grinned.

James hurried to turn on the radio that stood on his desk, his hand knocking a couple of the MINCHUM FOR MINISTER buttons onto the floor with a clatter. He bent to pick them up quickly as the radio crackled to life and a deep voice came through --

--- still currently leading in the polls. However opponent Tutman has quite a strong a strong surge in numbers, his rating rising every day… Still anybody’s election…

James sat in his desk chair and watched Bubo preening herself on her perch. “I still can’t believe they’re letting Tutman run,” James said, “After being under the imperio just a couple years ago…”

“We’re the only ones that know about that, though, remember?” Sirius said.

James shook his head in disapproval.

Sirius yawned, “Besides. Minchum’s gonna win, I dunno why they even bothered finding him somebody to compete with.”

“They’re required to in order to have an open election, that’s the whole point. If they didn’t have a second runner it wouldn’t be an election, it would be an appointment,” James explained.

Sirius raised an eyebrow and stared up at James with a smirk playing on his face, “Look at you, Mr. Politics.”

James shrugged, “Binns said it once. They appointed a Minister when one was assassinated during the Goblin Wars and apparently everyone in the whole Wizarding World freaked out then over it. It’s apparently only in dire emergency that the Wizengamot can appoint somebody.”

“Druella Black killing dozens in the Ministry itself isn’t dire emergency?” Sirius snorted, “Idiots.”

“Perhaps if the actual Dark Lord himself had been there,” James shrugged, “But I reckon the Dark Lord couldn’t possibly get in there -- not with Moody and the Prewetts there.”

Sirius sat up, “According to my Father he had.”

Suddenly an owl flew into the room, a letter tied to his leg, and Sirius watched as James got up and untied it from him, reaching into a box and getting a couple owl treats for him. Bubo looked over with a jealous hoot. “You bring me a letter sometime and maybe you’d get more treats, you bloody feather duster,” James said as the owl glowered at him.

The letter was from Maryrose. James grinned and ripped it open. It was an invitation to her birthday party.

I’ll be turning 15 next week, as you know, and I expect you’ll come and return some of those kisses I gave you for your 15th. Feel free to bring along Sirius. I miss you and care for you. XOXO - Maryrose

James grinned up at Sirius.

“She send you a snog-o-gram?” Sirius asked, seeing Maryrose’s handwriting on the envelope.

“Her birthday party’s next week. She’s invited me and I’m to feel free to bring you along.”

“Bloody damn right you’re bringing me along,” Sirius said, “We’re a package deal. You go, I go.”

James laughed, “Like a wart growing upon my skin.”

“One you don’t bloody want to be rid of,” Sirius agreed, grinning.

“Oh I’d bloody be rid of you if I could,” James said.

“I’d just turn into Snuffles and your dad wouldn’t let you be rid of me,” Sirius’s eyes sparkled. “Your dad ruddy adores Snuffles. You saw how much weight I put on back in February and March living here. Bloody hell, your Dad tried to stuff me, fatten me right up, I swear.”

James laughed, “Yeah he is rather fond of Snuffles.”

Sirius smiled, “Makes me feel rather terrible he can’t keep Snuffles all the time.”

“I know.”

“Especially when he’s not feeling well.”

“He’ll be alright,” James said with a shrug, “Just under the weather is all. The dragon pox makes him tired sometimes mum said, but he’ll be alright.”

“Of course he will,” Sirius said, nodding. He stood up, snatched the letter from James’s hand and read it over. “Look at that. It is a snog-o-gram! I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up --” Sirius wiped an imaginary tear from his eyes, “Getting dirty owls from pretty girls. I’m so proud.”

“Give it here, you bastard,” James laughed, jumping for the letter.

Sirius flung himself over the bed, tumbling so that he came off the other side on his feet, though he kicked Bubo’s stand and she let out a hoot and fluttered out the window to land in the tree there, glaring back at the boys as James jumped onto the bed after Sirius. Sirius ducked ‘round the end to escape, but James was too fast and soon they’d collapsed on the floor, yelling and wrestling over the letter from Maryrose.