Marauder crack

To feed the Fire, you need Gasoline

The book was found and memorized by Peter: "Basic manual for your motorcycle". A muggle book they bought in Diagon Alley thanks to the common room fireplace and a reasonable amount of smuggled flu powders. It has been studied thoroughly and Sirius has succeeded -he believes- in putting each piece in its place but for three days, the motorcycle has not been making any sounds, nor moving, nor starting.

After seven hours of assembling and disassembling each screw and each wire, Sirius consumes a cigarette and ponders a romantic way to commit suicide. Sitting on the block next to him, Peter is always thinking there has to be a way to make it work.

Remus walks into the room to see if they are going to take a break, but he finds them jaded and desperate. Sirius looks at him between strands of disheveled hair, sweating oils. It makes him want to get on doggy style and lick him.

- We think the bike is dead, Moony.

- Amen- sentence Peter.

Remus has no idea of ​​mechanics and the closest thing to a motorcycle he's ever been was his grandfather's tractor. Well, his father had a little bony car who gasped and hobbled and spent more time in the garage otherwise in the house, dismantled in parts, than on the road, hissing and rattling.

Remus looked more than once while the wheels were changed but he doesn't know how to distinguish the fan belt from the spark plugs. Still, compared to those two Ignorants in front of him can be said to be a seasoned expert in muggle mechanics.

- Your potion is missing magic powder, guys.

When they look at him with the face of convicted murdrers, and without knowing what he is speaking about, Remus taps the empty gas tank a few times.

- Neither of you has thought of putting Gasoline on it, right?

Immediately, Sirius wakes up, throws the cigar on the ground, and gets up.

- What have you said?

- You have to put GAS in it. From a GAS station, preferably.

Peter searches his book but can't find that part.

- More attention, Wormtail- Sirius reproaches him- or I will have to look for myself another mechanic.

He pulls on his leather jacket and looks at the rearview mirror of the motorcycle before leaving. The hair on the face gives a pretended adventurer look and for the umpteenth time Remus asks gods in which he doesn't believe why they had to give him an ego the size of Britain and besides it, make him so handsome.

- Come on, children, to get Gasofiline.

When they go out he gives Peter a whip on the ass and winks at him. It makes him uncomfortable and Sirius, precisely because of that, finds it funny. He is like that with friends, intractable, presumptuous, irritating, irresistible. Nothing happens, of course.

Remus is used to seeing how he relates to people, fondling and beating up whoever comes forward. To everyone, of course, except him, who respects too much.

- Lucky me.

- Did you say something, Moony?

- No, nothing. It's not important.