The Shoebox Project

Part Twenty-One B: Aftermaths, Coves, Tragedies.

***

"Pads," James hisses next morning, grabbing Sirius' elbow as they meander out to the beach after breakfast. "I
need to talk to you."

"Talk away, my friend," Sirius says, slinging an arm generously around James's shoulders. He is too full of
muffins to be in a bad mood, and James' drawn pallor and general air of frightened rabbit make him feel even
more cheerful by comparison. "Where's your auburn-tressed love pastry?"
"I don't know," James mutters. "I think she slept in the bathtub. Look, I need you to promise me you won't be
an idiot."

"Can't help it," Sirius says cheerfully. "It's part of my charm." On second glance, James really does look unhealthy: all drippy and sunken and not at all like his usual blithesome self. If it were in Sirius's nature to be concerned, he would be; fortunately for him, it isn't.

"Do you want a banana or something? You look like a wilted cabbage. It's hols, for God's sake, please try to perk up. I want you in top form today, it's been ages since we had a good game of Sand In Your Bits."

"About my bits," James says. "But Sirius, you have to promise me." He grabs Sirius by the arm and pulls him in the direction of abandonment and drowning, a rocky unpleasant cove no vacationers are attempting at this
hour of the day. "You have to promise you won't tell anyone. It's the biggest secret of my life and if you tell anyone--" Sirius holds up a hand, suddenly grave. "James," he says. "I try not to be an idiot when it counts."

"You're going to have to do better than try," James tells him. "You're going to have to do better than succeed.

You can't tell anyone. Not Peter, not Remus--"
"Not even the love pastry?"
James makes a dark face. "Especially not the love pastry. The love pastry cannot know you know. Do you understand?"
Sirius nods. "I do solemnly swear," he says, but he isn't joking. James sighs in relief, slipping into a shadowy corner and looking all around before he begins.

"We sort of," he whispers. "We sort of. You know."

Comprehension dawns very slowly on Sirius' face, blooming like a shadow. He turns, looks away, scuffs his foot against sand and dried up bits of seaweed. For a long time he says nothing, tickling the seaweed with his toes. It takes him an eternal kind of moment, but finally, he grins. "Well, you know, it was only a matter of time, wasn't it? The course of true love leads to the bedroom after all. Well done, mate. Well done." He claps James' shoulder with one hand. James is impressed. He's doing an admirable job. All of a sudden James is delighted and happy and grateful that Sirius Black is his best friend in the world, and always will be, and isn't an idiot when it really counts. All of a sudden he is hanging from Sirius' arm, relieved beyond imagining but shaking like a jellyfish.

"It was terrible," he says. "It was awful. I was awful. She was awful. We were awful. It was the most awful thing I've ever kept doing of my own free will. And do you remember that time, with the toaster? It was like that only a hundred times worse and a hundred times longer and less burning and more squeezing.

Sirius, it was spectacularly bad."

"Oh," Sirius says, rather stunned. "Er. Well." It is somewhat difficult to picture how bad bad sex could possibly be. You sort of do or you don't, as far as Sirius can imagine, and if you do, then that's quite nice, and if you don't, it doesn't really count, does it? "I mean, was it just -- you know, I mean, she hasn't got scales or something, right?"

"No!" James yelps. "No. Jesus." He winds his hand deep into his hair, as if attempting to yank off his own scalp.

"God, I don't -- I had no idea what was going on! It was like -- I was trying so hard, but it was just -- and I was, like, watching myself, and it was just, I mean, oh God. I make noises, Pads. Like little -- oh, God, little gerbil noises. And I just sort of thought something would happen with her, but it was -- I don't know! I didn't know what to do!" "It's all right," Sirius says, trying not to look as stumped as he is. "I mean, er. Right? I imagine it takes practice."