The Marauders: Year Six #Wattys2017

The Ticket

The Ticket

Trigger warning:
This chapter includes use of drugs,
and sexual assault.

Ace Dante had been helping Sirius with fixing up his motorbike for nearly a week.

Sirius ran across the field outback the house, leaping through the overgrown grass, headed for the trees of the little wood that separated them from the village. He ducked beneath branches and over a couple logs until he reached the churchyard, where he transformed behind the stone wall.

Ace Dante was in his garage, laying on his back beneath the body of the motorbike, a large wrench in his hand as he worked on the engine. Sirius's shadow cast over him and the young man raised his palm to block the sun and look up into Sirius Black's face. Ace had on a pair of sunglasses and a bit of a scowl. "Mornin' man," he said.

Ace grunted his reply.

Sirius sat down and crossed his legs, watching as Ace turned back to the task at hand, Ace's grease covered fingers working the knob and gears within the motorbike's guts.

"How's it comin'?" Sirius asked, "Think I can ride it soon?"

"She's coming along alright," Ace replied. He slid out from under the bike and wiped his palms off on a cloth. "Just a few more parts and we should be good to go."

Sirius looked disappointed. He'd been hoping that it would be ready that day. He'd had to fight particularly hard with Achlys that morning to get the energy together to get out of bed. The night before, there'd been bad news from St. Mungo's - Charlus was going to have to stay another week - the scales were growing too fast to let him go, and the look on James's face when he'd told Sirius had made Sirius's heart ache...

In true dementor fashion, Achlys had loved that.

She loved it even more when Sirius heard James crying through the walls and he'd gone to check on him and James had pushed him away. "I don't want to be comforted, alright?" James had snapped, "Don't touch me; don't. No - I don't want you here. Go back to your own room. No Sirius, not even as Snuffles!" James had pushed even the fluffy black dog away. "Please, I just want to cry about my dad and I want to do it alone, alright? I don't want anyone, even you, to see me. Just go away."

He'd laid awake in bed, listening helplessly, his guts churning.

He doesn't want you. Doesn't need you. You aren't good enough at being a best friend to comfort him right now in this, the worst time of his entire life... What good are you?

And he lay there, listening to Achlys, staring through the dark...

Now, Sirius stared at the motorbike. All he wanted in the world was something to cheer him up, something to make him forget the horrible shementor, forget the way he could hear James's crying echoing in his head. He wanted to get on that motorbike and ride it so fast that he left Achlys behind.

He wanted something to make him feel better.

Something to make him feel something that wasn't sadness.

"What's it gonna take to fix it?" Sirius begged Ace, looking desperately up at the young man.

Ace stared at him. He could see the miserableness in the kid's eyes and a part of him felt guilty for the lie he told: "Maybe a hundred pounds more of parts," Ace said, shrugging, standing up to break the eye contact Sirius was making. "Nothing to much more." He wiped off the tools he'd been using, getting grease on his t-shirt. "Ah man, I'm exhausted," he complained, stretching and dropping the tools into a small box on the ground. He nodded, "C'mon inside, I need to relax..."