The Shade sitting at the bar in the Leaky Cauldron was not one you would of seen at Hogwarts, or even a year ago.  He would of never brought his sketchpad out in public where anyone could see him draw, and he most certainly would not of even owned a leather jacket, much less ride a motorcycle at all.  Yet, here he was, sketching whatever came into his mind (currently it was a unicorn with fiery eyes and a flowing mane of fire as well), his new leather jacket around his shoulders, and a cold butterbeer sitting in front of him.

He was truthfully hoping he'd run into someone from school.  He'd been off travelling with Monty for a while and had lost touch with the few people he actually liked talking to and when he came back, he decided that it was time to stop being the lonely 19 year old sitting in his apartment. His only companions being his art supplies and a steady stream of both butterbeer and alcohol.

So focused on the detail of the mane of the unicorn, he didn't notice that someone had walked in and sat down beside him.

"O'Connor!"

Figaro's voice carried easily. He peeled away from the knot of Daily Propheteers and arrived at the side of a tall, blonde-haired once-Gryffindor Shade O'Connor. Scribbling in a book, half a lager down.

"Blimey, I thought you were dead! I heard you were dead. But you didn't die! This is great! Let me get you a drink. For not being dead."

In the films, it would have worked for Figaro to just rap his knuckles on the bar top, but at the Leaky Cauldron he just got a stern look from the ancient bar guardian who didn't appreciate being flipped around by little men. Fig corrected course. "Oh, right, two whiskeys, bottom shelf, with ice, whenever you can."

As he often did, Figaro was happy to treat former acquaintances as good friends. It was more fun that way, wasn't it? Why stand on the history of accounting when things could be good right away?

"You look good," Figaro said finally. The implication easy to hear, good for someone who was just barely not dead.

Shade put down his pen and took a drink before looking around to see where the voice was coming from.  Smirking, he noticed Figaro Sellaphix coming towards the bar and settling on the stool next to him.  He raised one eyebrow as he said, "No, definitely not dead. Where'd you hear that anyway?"

He turned on the stool to face his former school-mate.  "I've been travelling around, not dead.  I bought a motorcycle. Nothing much new except that." 

He took a drink, "What's new with you?"

Figaro drew back as if to re-examine Shade. It wasn't uncommon for the recently freed Hogwarts students to take a gap year but most of Figaro's friends had all plummeted directly into further toil. Taking time to troubadour to and fro on a motorcycle? That was the dream, wasn't it?

"Good on you, mate...," Figaro nodded in admiring approval. Somewhere, gears were turning.

He leaned on the bar and began to move on with the conversation, a familiar one that he didn't mind having. "Working at the Daily Prophet, it's incredible, I have no life, my mum isn't possessed - wait."

Figaro leaned in (perhaps a touch too close) and whispered, "is it a flying motorcycle?"

Shade took a drink and looked at his friend, leaning back on instinct as Figaro leaned in close and asked him if his bike was a flying motorcycle.  He kept silent for a moment, not sure if he wanted to tell him that it was.  After all, in school he was known for his pranking and general trouble-making.  Now that he worked for the Prophet, maybe he didn't want his bike to be general knowledge.

"What would you say if I said that it was?" Shade said smirking at his friend.

The pause was heavy and loaded, Shade stretching out the reveal much to Figaro's happy entertainment. Who didn't love suspense? Shade's actual response was in that same tune: cryptic.

Figaro stared him down, trying to look inscrutable, and paused equally as long. Then he sat back and shrugged.

"I'd say what the hell are we doing sitting here like a couple of arseholes?" He took up his glass and finished the mediocre whiskey in one go, and slid back off the stool, clearly making ready to go.

"I'd say it's well time for a bit of misbehavior." Figaro didn't need an excuse to blow off steam, and he had a never-ending supply.

Shade chuckled at Fig's comment. "You haven't changed much since school have ya?" he said and finished his drink off.  Looking back at his drawing, he realized that he was as far as he was going to get today and began to put his sketchpad and pencils away into his bag.  Once he was done he turned to Fig.

"So, what do you have in mind then?"

Figaro looked incredulous and whispered.

"To ride your bloody flying motorcycle...!"

He made a sweeping gesture and led them out of the pub into Diagon Alley. There wasn't just anywhere one could park a motorcycle, let alone a flying one. They weren't strictly legal, were they. With the way Shade was being coy about it, Figaro anticipated he'd have to continue his interrogation. It had been a maddening few months and all he wanted to do was feel something again. Now that everything was getting sorted out, he finally had space to be young again. His mum was on the mend, the shop would be re-opening soon, thing were smoothed over at work - time to be irresponsible.

And then he had an idea. "We should go to Stonehenge. Only a couple hours away. We'll see London on our way, take in the night air, and go like, commune with our ancient magical ancestors. You're welcome, I am genius."

Halloween was getting closer. What better destination?

"Alright," Shade began as he was led out of the pub by Figaro, "But we'll have to go to my place, I couldn't just leave it lying around." Luckily, his place wasn't too far and they were there in less than 20 minutes.

"Okay, here goes." he said as he moved a hedge out of the way with his wand, and then removed the charm he had hiding his bike.  "Here she is." He walked around it and waited for Fig's reaction.  He'd had the bike for a while, but he still got a thrill every time he saw it.[1]

1.	I know it's short, sorry

Figaro let out a breath colored with delighted obscenity. He was so moved (and buzzed) that he actually stepped closer to Shade and wrapped his arms around his shoulder in a grateful embrace. "Thank you."

Upon releasing his old school chum, Figaro approached it and tried to get a look at it from all angles.

"It's brilliant. Where did you get it? Like, did you just get hold of a motorcycle and enchant it?"

Magic and muggle technology didn't always get along. Figaro didn't know the details of how or why, but he did know that older muggle technology was kinder. And, hell, the magic to actually pull it off had to be extremely difficult and layered. And, since the magic wasn't legal, it could be hard to learn.

He stood back and whistled. "Damn, Shade."

Shade was kind of glad he'd showed it to someone else. I mean, showing it to a girl was one thing, but showing it to a guy friend... well that was just something he could be proud of.  He grinned and let out a laugh when Fig embraced him in a manly hug.  It was to be expected, after all. Guys and their toys... it just had to be appreciated.

He watched as Figaro walked around his bike and then asked him where he got it.  Shade tensed for a minute, trying to remember if he told Monty he'd keep the circumstances of his purchase a secret. He couldn't remember so he just replied, "There's an American company that makes them... cost a pretty penny though." he told his friend.

Upon hearing Fig's whistle of appreciation, Shade grinned even wider.  It was nice to be friends with someone who enjoyed the same things for a change.  "So, I believe you wanted a lift?"   He asked his friend as he moved past him and began to push the bike out of the hiding spot he had it it. 

Sitting on the bike, he started it up.  He knew it wasn't going to make a loud noise, as most muggle motorcycles did, there was a noise dampening spell on the engine.  "Hop on and we'll go for a spin." He wasn't sure where he would go with Fig, but he figured they would figure it out eventually.

Figaro smirked at Shade when he hesitated to say where he got it.

"Oh, calm down, I'm not going to rat you out."

It was some American company, which made sense. He thought he heard the regulations were more lax there. But still, must have cost loads.

Fig responded with an enthusiastic 'yes' at the offer to actually get aloft in this thing. Figaro quickly climbed up behind Shade. The bike started up and it was quieter than he thought it would be, and was immediately thrumming with a mechanical and magical energy. It felt far different from the absolute quiet of a broom, or the low rattle of a car, or the bass rumble of a train.

Shade revved the engine and the bike slipped forward. Not quite ready for the sudden movement, Figaro wavered then righted himself, arms around Shade's waist. The rose in a gentle spiral into the darkening London sky, the buildings growing ever smaller. It was kind of amazing.

"Stonehenge!" Figaro spoke up to be heard over the engine. "It's west or something. Like, two hours."

Now that he suggested it, he realized he didn't know exactly how to get there, but what's the point of youthful folly if there was a guidebook.