Paisley Higgs | (Sirius Black)

Chapter 6- You're Allowed To Call Me an Arsehole

The ice cream parlor door jingled as Sirius ushered me out, grinning and glancing back at the others until we reached the secondhand bookstore next door, out of sight.

"Books?!" he said, jabbing his finger towards the display— smile no where to be found. "Merlin, Higgs— are you trying to ruin my reputation?!"

I had absolutely no idea how books would ruin ones reputation.

Yes, I'll admit, my delivery was a little disjointed and out of place, but the excuse seemed entirely plausible. Lots of people liked books and I was technically on a tutoring field trip. A bookstore was arguably a better outing location than an ice cream parlor given the circumstances.

He was really upset though... so I'd obviously done something wrong. "I-I'm sorry— I-I didn't mean to— I really wasn't trying to—to—"

"It's fine. Let's just get this over with." He rolled his eyes, taking a big bite of his ice cream before moodily gesturing for me to proceed into the all but abandoned shop.

Now, I know this was all my idea, but I have a confession to make. I'm not really all that fond of reading as a rule. I mean I always enjoy it in the beginning... The rush of getting a new book is always charged with such idealistic excitement. It's what's led me to own so many of the stupid things. But once I actually sit down and get to the business of reading, I usually find that it takes too long and I get bored too quickly and so I rarely finish any of the books I start.

But that doesn't keep me from trying to buy new ones any chance I can get.

It's a vicious cycle, really.

Anyways, back to my weird adventure with Sirius. He needed some time to cool off so I wandered away from the transfiguration books by the window where he was sulking, down a cramped aisle of shelves, eating the ice cream he got me (It was very good and I made a mental note to thank him when I got back), following the signs to "British history". I really liked history and they were on sale so it seemed like a good place to start.

Of course, the sale part wasn't as important since I couldn't actually buy anything that day—Not unless we made a pit stop to my dad's office (which was absolutely not happening) or back home so I could grab my coin purse, but I figured I could make a list of the things I wanted and guilt mom into buying me them later under the guise of needing them to study.

I had just about finished my ice cream cone when I found the dusty, tucked away alcove of half-priced history.

It. Was. Beautiful.

Okay, beautiful might be a little deceiving. It was sort of a mess. But within the mess was everything:  The Anglo-Saxon migration, the Vikings, The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards, The War of the Roses.... And they didn't just have books—there were primary sources! Journals, scrolls, letters, and other first hand accounts that dated back centuries—and even some artifacts crammed in odd corners and perched on the very tippy tops of shelves. I swear I even saw a pamphlet from The International Warlock Convention of 1289.

This was a historian's heaven! So why were these things in a bookstore that was about one shoplifter away from going out of business? Why weren't these things in a museum?

"What a load of rubbish," Sirius said behind me, making me jump and nearly drop my ice cream-less cone. He had already finished his. "Can you believe they actually try to sell this shite to people?" he scoffed, poking a small gold contraption inscribed with ancient runes.

I saw his big hand moving to assault another oddly bent golden artifact. "Don't!" I yelped, swatting him away.

He jerked his hand back as if he'd touched a hot stove and looked down at me in alarm, pale blue eyes trading their aloof scowl for something more akin to fear.