For Matty's 11th birthday, I went with his parents and thousands of sisters (okay, there were only 5) to this gigantic, flashy, no-maj circus in Dallas. Unfortunately, it was actually a pretty awful trip for reasons that may or may not have had something to do with me accidentally breaking the international statute of secrecy— again, accidentally.
That not-so-lovely birthday extravaganza was memorable for many a reason, but the circus act that etched itself into my long-term memory more vividly than any other was the clown car. I remember being so confused on how they jammed 30 people into one teeny tiny, fluorescent pink Volkswagen Beetle. To this day, I stand by my initial assessment that magic had to have been involved, no matter what his mother said.
A similar phenomenon occurred outside of the concert venue that drizzly London night. Only, instead of sweaty clowns it was Lily, Marls, Alice, James, Remus, and countless others, and instead of a pink Volkswagen it was a beat up station-wagon riddled with bird poo poorly parked along the sidewalk. I followed after them, naturally, curious what it would look like inside the vehicle (did the people turn tiny or was the inside ginormous?) when a hand steered me away by my leather jacket clad shoulder toward a creepy dark alley.
"Wrong way, Higgs."
I looked up at Sirius, or attempted to. I hadn't truly grasped how tall he was until this moment. "What are you talking about? I thought you said we were going to the party?"
"We are going to the party."
I side stepped a brown paper bag that was squeaking suspiciously. "Are we taking a portkey?"
"No, no ministry doesn't usually make portkey's for underage partying."
I shrugged his arm off of me. "A floo then?"
"Only public floo open at this time of night is at the leaky cauldron and I doubt they'll let a couple of teenagers wander in there. Dodgy place."
"Well, then how are we getting there?" And why couldn't he just give me a straight answer?
Sirius glanced down, lips tilted in a crooked smile. "We're driving, of course."
"Then shouldn't we go back? They're going to leave without us..."
"Let me clarify. I'll be driving."
It took three seconds. Three horrible lingering seconds for me to connect the dots. I crossed my arms over my chest. "No."
Sirius smirked and put a hand on my back, leading me further down the creepy damp cobbled alley, past a giant dumpster that was probably infested with raccoons or hobos or trash dragons. "This way, Higgs."
A dark shape appeared beneath a flickering lamp. The motorcycle. He couldn't really expect... "Sirius, this isn't funny. Can we please just go back?"
"So that you can risk life and limb with Davey's brother at the wheel? Not likely. I told you I planned to keep you out of trouble." Sirius reached the motorcycle and began digging around in the side satchel thingies.
"So you plan to make me ride on this... this death machine instead?"
Aforementioned death machine was glimmering ominously in the lamplight and reeked of exhaust. "Her name is Cassandra." As he rummaged around, I noticed something was different from the last time I'd seen the bike... No side car. "And she's not a death machine."
"I don't care if it's name is Queen Elizabeth the third, I'm not getting on this... this thing!"
"Of course you're not," he said much too casually. "Not without a helmet."
"Sirius, I—"
Before I could get the words out he had plopped the helmet onto my head and was already adjusting the chin strap, muttering something annoying about 'safety first'. His hands ghosted over my skin as they tugged at the helmet, checking to make sure it stayed in place. Ice blue, almost grey eyes met mine, then flickered down to the strap at my jaw where his fingers were resting, skin burning. Everything about him was warm. He was so close that heat practically radiated off of him... and I could smell his stupid heavenly cologne again. I wished he would back up so I could catch my breath... but at the same time I dreaded that he would.
He gave the helmet a experimental tug. "I'm a safe driver, you know."
"That's what teenage boys always say. They never actually mean it." At least, that's what Matty always said and he was a terrible driver. (He once accidentally massacred half a family of rabbits on his tractor... and then cried for the rest of the day... and half of the next.)
Sirius gave one of those crooked smiles again, his eyes crinkling. "Okay, how about this. I promise I'll be a safe driver tonight. Better?"
I tried to look intimidating, but he was still so close, I think it came out a little cross eyed. "It'd be better if I didn't have to ride on that stupid bike in the first place."
Sirius sighed and finally moved back to the motorcycle, looking through the side compartment once more. It had to have had an extension charm...
"Also, I look stupid in this helmet..." I pouted.
"You'd look more stupid with your brains painting the streets," he muttered, placing his own helmet on the seat. He paused for a moment to glance at me up and down, as if he was trying to solve a particularly difficult arithmancy equation. Then he reached into the the compartment once last time and produced a wadded up pile of grey fabric resembling an elephant hide. Sweat pants with a red emblem of a lion on one of the legs. "Here. Probably too big for you, but you can always roll them up."
"What?" I said as he shoved the pants in my hands. "What are you talking about?"
He smirked. "Dresses and motorbikes don't really mix well, Higgs. Best to pull those on underneath... Unless you don't mind having your skirt fly up. I'm sure someone would enjoy the view—"
This was about the time I started whacking him with the stupid pants. "You— You jerk! Why would you even say that?"
He was laughing which only made me more furious. "I don't know why you're so cross. I've gone out of my way to save you from certain death by station wagon," —he knocked on my helmet— "kept that pretty head of yours from getting crushed like a melon, and given you my best quidditch sweats to keep you from dazzling unsuspecting passersby with what, I'm sure, is a spectacular arse—"
"Shut up!" I was beating my fists against his chest at this point, face burning. Sirius was laughing even harder. "Just shut up! And stop laughing at me! You're not funny! None of this is funny!"
"Ah and there's that accent again."
"Ugh!" I gave him one last shove, then stomped away. Maybe if I hurried I could get to the station wagon before they left? I fumbled with the helmet but finally got the clamp undone, throwing it unceremoniously on the ground. Bad enough forcing me to go on some dangerous contraption, but he really had the audacity to make fun of me like that? No party was worth that. Why had I ever thought being with him could be a pleasant experience? I blamed stupid Stubby Boardman and his stupid music. Must have addled my brain. Sirius Black was a jerk.
"Hey!" Sirius called. "Higgs, come back! I was just having a laugh!"
"Well now you can have one all by yourself. Have fun."
"Higgs!" he called. I could hear his footsteps jogging to catch up with me. "Higgs, you're not really upset with me, are you?"
"Of course I am!"
"Why?"
"Why?" I spun around. He was closer than I expected. "You made fun of me!"
"Made fun of...? Look, the accent thing is actually kind of cute. You sound like a cowboy from those old westerns Mr. Potter watches—"
"No, that's not—" I tried to get past him and pick up the helmet I'd discarded in my fury. I tried to ignore the fact that he'd just called me cute (sort of) and the effect that this was having on the butterflies in my stomach. "Forget it. Let's just go."
Sirius blocked my path, raising an imperious eyebrow, probably amused by my quick change of heart. "Wait a moment... You're upset about what I said about you're arse, aren't you?"
"You know, the later we are getting on the road, the more drunk drivers we'll have to dodge." I zipped past him and shoved the helmet back on.
"Or was it the part about your 'pretty head'?"
"My Dad says it's actually safer to take major roads at night instead of the back ways. You'd think it'd be the other way around, but it's got something to do with there being more lighting? Or maybe more witnesses..." My fingers fumbled with the latch on the chin strap. "I can't ever remember..."
Sirius quietly walked up, moved my hands away and snapped it into place, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. His hands lingered. "I wasn't making fun of you. Teasing a bit, yeah. But wasn't making fun."
I stared at the collar of his shirt. "What time does the party start, again?"
"It really would be a shame if your pretty head got smashed like a melon."
"Do you think they'll be food at this thing? I may have some granola bars in my bag—"
"And as for the part about your arse... probably shouldn't have said it."
"Or maybe some crackers... no guessing how old they'd be, though—"
"I told you, you make me say stuff I don't mean to say out loud..."
"Might be better if we stopped and get a snack, just in case."
"Though, to be fair, I was actively trying to prevent you from flashing the poor civilians."
"You don't have any decent Mexican food around here, do you? Man, I could go for a nice chicken quesadilla—"
"Would you stop talking about bloody snacks and look at me?"
I held my breath and glanced up at him... or I tried. The helmet was loose and fell into my eyes. "I told you I look stupid in this thing."
Sirius snorted and got to work tightening the strap. I noticed he didn't disagree with me. "You really okay riding the bike? Because I can find a floo if it bothers you that much."
"Well, that depends... are you going to actually be careful... and not make anymore comments about my rear end?"
"I shall only promise one of those—ow!" I stepped on his foot. "Fine! Safe driver. No comments about Paisley's arse. Happy?"
"I'd be happier with a quesadilla."
Sirius rolled his eyes, grabbed my hand, and drug me back to Cassandra, the death machine. "Brat."
***
"You have to hang on tighter than that."
"I'm giving you personal space."
"You're going to fly off the back an end up roadkill."
Sat upon the back of Sirius's stupid motorcycle, wearing his sweatpants under my dress and his leather jacket over my shoulders, the image of a mangled deer carcass along Interstate 20 flashed in my mind. My arms squeezed around his torso.
I could feel him laughing. "Better. But you need to scoot up, but make sure you keep your feet here—"
I scooted an inch closer.
"Little bit more... think of it like giving someone a hug from behind."
That was, in fact, the very thing I was trying to not think of... but at the same time I didn't want to end up like the deer carcass...
I begrudgingly pressed my whole body against his back and for two whole seconds it was almost nice. Too nice. This was still annoying Sirius, after all.
He moved and the motorcycle roared to life.
I squeezed even tighter, which was no doubt the stupid perverts grand plan.
"There, see! That's perfect."
"Just tell me when it's over so I can open my eyes."
Sirius laughed again, muttering sounded like "Definitely not a Gryffindor..." before the motorcycle vroomed then lurched forward.
Thankfully, I was so terrified of falling off and tumbling to my death in the middle of London suburbs that I completely forgot to be embarrassed by the fact that I was pressed against Sirius in some sort of pseudo-hug. It was a blessing, in a way.
Ten or so minutes into our journey we went over a bump and I clutched onto him even tighter.
"Stop laughing at me," I grumbled.
"You do realize flying a broom is about a thousand times more dangerous, don't you?" he shouted, turning a corner.
"Which is why I don't like flying either!"
He laughed again. "You sound like Lily."
"I sound like someone with bad luck and strong self-preservation instincts."
"Someone with strong self preservation wouldn't be going to one of Davey's parties, Higgs."
"Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the sake of socialization."
He turned another corner. "Socializing is overrated."
"Says the guy with tons of friends."
He didn't have much to say after that. Occasionally he'd give me a heads up on a sharp curve or pothole, but he didn't say anything else until the motorcycle slowed to a stop and the engine shut off.
"You can open your eyes now, Higgs."
"It's over?"
"It's over."
"So I'm not dead?"
"I told you I'd be a safe driver."
I finally released my grip and realized how stiff I felt, blinking and taking in my surroundings. We were parked along a very normal looking suburban street, beside a very normal looking suburban house, which aside from the front porch light, looked as sleepy as any other home around.
"This is it?" I said. This was the crazy party house abounding with debauchery? "It looks so... normal?"
Sirius helped me off of the motorcycle and even looked away as I shinnied the sweatpants off from under my dress. I was still wearing shorts... but I didn't really want to get into the details of my undergarments with him. "It's a muggle neighborhood. They can't exactly have floating plumbs and flitterblooms in their front garden, now can they?"
"No, that's not—I thought you said this was a party? Did we beat them here or..."
Sirius smirked. "Best not to judge by appearances, love."