All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Summer 1977 ( Part 4 )

In the years that followed, Sirius would look back on that week in Cornwall often. He would think about it when he was lonely, or scared, or so tired that he could hardly lift his wand. When he wondered whether it was all worth it, what they were even fighting for—those were the moments he would close his eyes, remembering days in green grass and warm sand, wandering through the whitewashed village, ice cream melting on their tongues and fingers. He would think about nights in a tent with Remus, young and joyful and mad for each other, and remind himself that at the end of everything, they would have those days again.

At the time, of course, he had no idea how rare it would be, that sort of raw, unfiltered happiness. At the time, he thought it would last forever, could not imagine ever looking at Remus—knee deep in the ocean, jeans rolled up, smelling of saltwater—and feeling anything but a love so sweet it made his jaw ache. In those moments, he would transform into Padfoot, who was much better equipped to handle the blinding joy; who could bark and run and chase the sticks that Remus threw, thinking nothing but mine mine mine mine mine.

Of course, he couldn’t transform around the others. But that was alright, as the two boys found themselves spending quite a bit more time alone than they had expected to, due largely to the fact that they were not the only couple on the trip.

Peter and Dorcas were at least discreet about it (which was mostly thanks to Dorcas, who seemed to find public snogging distasteful unless she was drunk). But James and Lily were a different story altogether; it seemed that now the floodgates had opened, there was no holding either of them back.

“You’re supposed to be prefects!” Mary shouted on the third night of the trip, when she nearly tripped over the two of them as they lay horizontal in front of the campfire.

“Oh, as if I haven’t caught you a hundred times on my rounds!” Lily laughed, extricating herself from James’s arms and straightening her shirt. “And you, Black, so you can stop leering.”

“What?” Sirius asked, innocently.

He had just returned from the shower block with the large bowl they used for washing dishes, a chore that he had so far taken charge of every night. The others seemed a bit surprised by this, but he had always found the work relaxing, ever since he was young and his mother had forced him to do it in place of Kreacher as punishment (of course, he had never let her catch on that he actually liked the chore).

“Don’t draw me into your sordid escapades,” he said primly, as he set the tub down, “I’ve been a perfect gentleman all holiday.”

“I’m not convinced you haven’t been sneaking off with some muggle girl in the village,” Marlene teased. She was stretched out on the ground, sunbathing atop one of the beach towels in her underwear. Sirius took the opportunity to flick her with a damp tea towel, making her yelp and curl up.

“How dare you!” He sniffed, “I’ve been tucked up in bed early every night, haven’t I, Moony?”

Remus, who had been chewing a handful of crackers, began immediately to choke, spewing crumbs as he coughed. James had to lean over and slap him on the back, and Sirius pressed a fist to his mouth to keep from laughing.

No one seemed to find the comment strange, though Remus glared at Sirius after he had finished coughing—in fact, none of their friends seemed to suspect anything at all. James was suspicious about the fact that they were sharing a tent, though for vastly different reasons.