Little J

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Little J



Sirius dropped back-to the stone wall in the graveyard, his bum in the damp grass. James stood beside him, staring across the street. The sun was sliding into dusk, and the street lamps snapped on as they stood there. "I don't think he's home," James said. Sirius rolled so he was kneeling beside the wall and peered over the stones. "No lights," James continued, pointing to draw Sirius's attention to the windows.

"Good. I don't want to see him." Sirius murmured.

"Yeah. And if he has any idea what's best for him, then he doesn't want to see me," James agreed.

Sirius crawled over the stone wall and landed on the other side. "I need my boots and my jacket. And, of course, the motorbike."

James climbed over the stone wall, too.

The two boys looked up and down the street and ran across the pavement, Sirius carrying the rucksack he'd speedily packed up at the Potter's house over his shoulder. In the distance came the hum of the heat bugs as the night fell and the air cooled marginally as the sun dipped even lower over the horizon. Sirius and James ran up the driveway in the shadows of the stout little trees that lined the right side of the carpark and pressed their backs to the garage door. Sirius licked his lips. "Alright," he whispered. "There's a door through here that goes into the kitchen, which connects to the living room. That's where it happened. On the couch. That's where my stuff should be. Unless he moved it. But hopefully it'll be right there still and this'll be really in and out." He paused and looked at James. "Thanks for helping me, Prongs."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Padfoot," James answered.

Sirius bent down and pressed his wand to the handle of the door. "Alohamora," he whispered and it clicked.

"Good luck," he whispered. He bent and pulled open the door halfway as carefully and quietly as he could... and James ducked under, followed by Sirius. Sirius lit his wand, illuminating the inside of the garage - all Ace's tools and the two motorbikes standing side-by-side. Sirius watched James duck for the door, whisper the spell, and push his way into the kitchen. Sirius went for the Gryffindor red bike and he tilted it up, knocking the kickstand up from the ground, and started for the door, using his wand to keep the door open just high enough for the bike to slid under and into the dim light outside.

James meanwhile was inside the house. Sirius hadn't wanted to come in, and James couldn't blame him. If he'd been taken advantage of that way, he wouldn't want to go back to the place again, either. He tiptoed as quietly as he could over the tile of the kitchen and into the carpet of the living room, peering about for a sign of Sirius's stuff. His wand glowed eerily off the stuff in the room.

Ace's ususal mess of take out containers and plastic cups littered the coffee table and the mantel over the fireplace. James's heart stopped, though, when his wand light illuminated Ace, asleep on the couch - or maybe passed out.

James paused in the doorway and stared at him, his face churned in anger. He raised his wand - intending to hex Ace Dante for what he'd done to Sirius - perhaps play a bit of hanging him upside down as he'd done to Severus Snape, just leave the filthy bastard hanging from the ceiling and go -- but he heard Lily's voice in his head telling him not to and so he tucked the wand away and used every ounce of his strength not to do it.

He found Sirius's jacket and boots flung into the chair beside the couch and he plucked them up from the cushion, throwing the jacket over his arm and carrying the boots by the laces. He turned and started to go when Ace Dante rolled over, his eyes opening and he stared into the darkness at James.

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