Archive of Our Own ^beta

May, 1974

'Are you mad?' Regulus demanded.

'What? I can't give you a birthday present anymore?' Sirius asked.

'Bugger the present, are you deranged? Are you out of your mind or something?'

Sirius searched his brother's face. 'We're not talking about your present, then?'

'Mother's right, you can be utterly maddening when you play coy. No, we're not talking about the bloody present. We're talking about what you plan to do when we get home.'

'Oh.' Sirius sighed. 'I don't see why not. I've been saving and it's a fair price--'

'First off, how would you even know what's a fair price and what's not? Second, where are you going to keep the bloody thing? Third, do you think for a moment Mother and Father will let you go into Muggle London to buy it? And don't you have to register the thing? There's a Muggle licence required, isn't there? Do you expect to go to their ministry and sign it up?'

Sirius' lips went thin. 'Been talking to Snivellus, have you?'

'Snape knows a sight more about Muggles than you do,' Regulus retorted derisively.

'Yeah, and why is that? Oh, wait. It's because he's a halfblood,' Sirius reminded him. 'I thought we Blacks weren't to be bothered with halfbloods.'

'He can't help that,' Regulus said with petulance, 'but he can help how he behaves with wizards - and at least there he's got a deal more pride than you have.'

'Sure of that, are you?'

'Why else would you want to go buy some ridiculous contraption when a broom is more proper - and more acceptable?'

'Because we can't go flying brooms through the streets without attracting attention, and besides, I want to see how it works. You didn't object when Cousin Narcissa drove you about in that convertible Uncle Cygnus let her buy.'

'Wizard-made,' taunted Regulus. 'It's meant to be driven right through Muggle traffic.'

'Well, so is the motorbike.'

'Father will kill you, if Mother doesn't do it first.'

Sirius raked a hand through his hair. 'Oh, bollocks. I don't care what they say.'

'No, you never do.'

The two stood, arms crossed, staring at one another for a moment. Regulus broke the silence. 'Where do you propose to keep it, anyway?'

'Next to the broom shed,' Sirius said with a light shrug.

Regulus gaped at him. 'In the back garden? You really have lost your mind. Mother won't stand for it.'

'Relax, it'll be covered. No one will know. If I have to, I'll keep it at Peter's, but I'd rather have it to hand.'

'They'll never let you keep it,' Regulus warned him, head shaking. 'And then you'll waste all your pocket money. How much is this bloke asking, anyway?'

'Don't worry about it,' Sirius said firmly.

Regulus grunted. 'And how d'you know you can trust him? Some wanker advertising in the Muggle papers?'

'People do it all the time, Reg,' Sirius said placatingly. 'And anyway, James said he'd go with me.'

This made Regulus flare in fresh anger. 'Oh, because Saint Potter is clearly qualified to haggle with Muggles.'

'Oi, that's not it. I'll do the haggling. It's just better to have someone with a fellow in these situations. And James knows what to look for, we've been reading up on it.'

Regulus frowned disapprovingly. 'You'll get taken,' he asserted.

'Nah. If the deal's no good, I'll walk away. There are other bikes out there.'

'You're mad,' Regulus repeated.

Sirius studied his brother. 'You're not cross because I'm buying a bike. You're cross because it's James going with me.'

'That's not true!' Regulus cried, but he sounded far too wounded for Sirius to have missed the mark.

'Look, if you want to come along--'

'I do not,' Regulus interrupted flatly.

'Okay, then. What's the problem?'

Regulus struggled. Finally he muttered, 'You could have asked.'

'So you could say "No"? Why bother?'

'What's happening to you?' Regulus wondered urgently. 'It was getting bad before, but this year especially--'

'I could say the same, Reg,' Sirius replied quickly. 'Those so-called friends of yours--'

'And yours,' Regulus shot back. 'You and that Potter. Dumbledore's favourites.'

'Not judging by our detention record,' Sirius said with a toothy grin.

'Yeah, well. Pettigrew certainly treats you like conquering heroes. But you always did like being worshipped.' Regulus reached into his robe pocket and held out his hand. 'Here, have it back.'

Sirius looked stung. 'No, it's your present. I want you to have it.'

'I'll not use it,' Regulus insisted.

'Hate me that much, do you?'

'No, but I'm not going about playing Muggle music in Slytherin dormitory, thanks.'

'But you like the Stones,' Sirius said plaintively. 'Or you did, anyway, before you found out they were Muggles.'

'Yeah, well, makes all the difference, doesn't it?' Regulus held out the cassette. 'Anyway, I haven't got a player here.'

'I gave you a tape deck at Christmas,' Sirius said.

'Yes. And it's home.'

'So, keep it and play it while we're home.'

Regulus said nothing. Eventually he put the cassette back in his bag. 'When are you going?'

'To buy the bike?'

'Yes.'

'Dunno. Day or two after we get home, probably. Why?'

'I could help cover for you, while you're gone.'

Sirius smiled wryly. 'Thanks, but it's not necessary. I can handle Mother and Father.'

'After last summer?' Regulus mused. 'Maybe I'd better go with you.'

Sirius' mouth twisted. 'You do want to come. Admit it.'

'Never said that. I want to make sure this Muggle doesn't try any funny business.'

'Like what?'

Regulus shrugged. 'Well, what if it doesn't work?'

Sirius started laughing in deep barks. Regulus crossed his arms again. 'What's so funny?'

'Well, Reg, of course it doesn't work! Not properly, anyway. How else d'you think I could afford it? The whole point is to fix it up.'

Shame-faced, Regulus scowled. 'That makes it better?'

'Of course!'

~*~

June, 1974

Sirius and James pushed the bike out of the alleyway. Between them, they had argued the bloke down by nearly 100 quid, and Sirius knew exactly what to do with the savings. 'There's a good consignment shop over on the Old Brompton Road, let's pop in there on the way back,' he suggested.

'What for?'

'Accessories,' Sirius said.

He found the jacket on a rack near the wall. It was well-worn, but it had never been scraped by a crash. Its zippers and snaps gleamed like the chrome of his new baby, locked up outside with a surreptitious spell to protect it from theft. The coat smelled of mink oil and felt like soft butter to the touch.

'Perfect,' he said, while James looked on in bemusement.

'It's too big,' James pronounced.

'No, it's not,' Sirius protested. 'The sleeves are long enough.'

'Yeah, but you're swimming in the rest,' James pointed out.

'I'll need a jumper underneath, most of the time,' Sirius said. 'Anyway, 25 pounds. That's perfect. I still need a helmet and some tools, that leaves me 75 for them.'

James clicked his teeth. 'You look daft,' he said.

'I'll fix it,' Sirius said. 'Once I'm home, I can fix it.' He patted the breast pocket of his jean jacket, where his wand nestled.

'Oh, all right then,' James admitted.

It was getting dark when they got back to Grimmauld Place, James's teeth chattering from the wind through his light mackintosh. The motorcycle did actually go, but it was out of tune and the alignment fought Sirius. Years of using brooms had taught him to balance easily enough, and James had no more trouble riding pinion. Sirius cut the throttle just outside the square and they pushed the bike through the back gate, where Sirius pulled the cover out of the saddlebags (which the gent had given him and all) and draped the bike carefully.

'Right, I'd better hop it,' James said.

'Yeah. I'd say come in for supper but--'

'S'all right. I know.' He didn't add that the thought of a meal with Mr and Mrs Black was hardly appealing. 'See you later?'

'Yeah, I'll send an owl.'

'Let me know how this goes,' James said with a grimace. Then he slipped out the back just a second before the door opened. A wedge of light spilled onto the garden, cutting across Sirius' face.

'You got it, then?' Regulus said.

'Yup. She's a beaut,' Sirius told him, unable to suppress his pride.

'You're a nutter,' Regulus reminded him. 'Let's see.'

'I've just covered it up.'

'Better put an illusionment on it, too,' Regulus suggested.

'Offering to help me conceal a Muggle artifact?'

Regulus shrugged. 'If you're going to go out riding that contraption, then you shan't be hanging about to bother me, shall you?'

Sirius snorted. 'Right. My mistake.' But he pulled out his wand and tapped it against the cover. It blended into the wall of the garden shed.

'And you might want to take that off before you come inside,' Regulus continued, pointing to the leather jacket. 'What did you do, anyway, get it off Hagrid?'

'No,' Sirius said, 'It's just a little largish. I'll fix it.'

'It's ridiculous.'

'It's cool.'

'Whatever. Take it off before they see you.'

Scowling, Sirius shrugged out of the jacket (and yes, it did need a tuck here or there, but it was otherwise perfect), and his denim one as well, and folded them both over his arm. 'Have I missed supper?'

'No, Kreacher just said we had ten minutes.'

'Brilliant. I'm starving.' He stepped across the threshold. 'Listen, do me a favour? Tell them I'm home but I'm washing up?'

'Only if you actually do wash up,' Regulus said. 'You stink of Muggle petrol.'

'Oh. Yeah, cheers, thanks.' He slipped past his brother and made for the stairs.

Regulus shook his head. His brother had really, finally, lost his gobstones.