A Summer Wasting

This summer, Remus decides, will not be like last summer. Yes, he is going to Sirius's cottage all summer, but so is James and so is Peter. That ought to provide Sirius with plenty of other people to entertain himself with. There will be time, says Remus to Sirius, loads of time for me to skip rocks and jump into the pond naked and blow dandelions at dawn. Lots of adventures, Sirius, just not every day, alright?

Right, says Sirius, right. Books in the summertime. Right. No adventures. Every day. Only sometimes. Books and parchment and learning, that is what summertime is all about. Right.

Remus feels as though his message got through loud and clear.

_

He plans himself a reading list, just before the term ends. It is chock full of ancient texts that he has borrowed, with explicit permission, from Madam Pince who finds him to be slightly appealing in some weird way and leers at him every time he goes into the library. Remus is usually disconcerted by her behaviour, but he figures he will put up with it for some books that he would give his right hand for. Or Sirius's right hand; it's not as though he writes anything down with it anyways, and only uses it for one purpose and one purpose alone, and one purpose that Remus chooses never to think about because it hurts his delicate sensitivities.

Madam Pince hands over the books, her fingers lingering on Remus's wrist.

Have a good summer, says Remus lamely, thinking that perhaps he better think of something else to say, something that doesn't sound so much like a seasonal greeting card. Madam Pince doesn't say anything back. She just leers.

Remus picks up his books and flees.

_

What are we doing, Sirius, what's the plan? asks James. They are riding home on the Express; Peter, James, and Sirius are on the brink of discussing summer plans; Remus is not, because he is a studious student and will stick to his schedule even if it kills him.

Plan? asks Sirius. Plan for what? I don't understand. There is plan?

The game plan, mate, what's the deal, the prerogative, the goal of this summer? spits out James in his hurried excitement, helped along by wild hand gestures. What is the deal, man, what is the deal?

Peter leans in to, as he says, hear better, but Remus knows it's just because Peter has this Idea that the further one leans in, the more involved one is in the conversation. This isn't strictly false - Peter is more involved in the conversation, he just has no ability to participate in it.

A goal, muses Sirius, a goal. We need a goal. A good goal, a good and proper goal, one that no one will have thought of, ever, in the history of summertimes and good mates.

We could jump in the swimming pool without our clothes on, suggests Peter, knowing that Sirius usually takes full advantage of the ability to strip himself down to his birthday suit. This time, Sirius waves him off.

No, no, argues Sirius, summertimes and good mates have done that kind of thing before. It is, Pete, called 'skinny-dipping' - we did it last summer, remember? And you went all wimpy and jumped in with your trousers.

Peter blushes down to the roots of his hair. He certainly does remember, thinks Remus. It's hard to forget three naked boys and one boy with wet trousers jumping in from the rocks around the quarry, especially when you were the boy that was too much of a bloody girl to leap into the ice cold water without anything on at all.

We could scope out some girls, pick up some birds, suggests James. Remus raises his eyebrows at him. Not for anyone in particular, god, Remus, you bastard, I'm one hundred percent over Evans and that is the last of it.

It isn't the last of it, and everyone knows it. James simply wants to survey the area because he is convinced that he is hot stuff and that Lily Evans is mad for refusing him and that she is the only girl in the history of the world to do such a terrible thing.

I have an idea, says Sirius suddenly, his eyes lighting up. Everyone always talks about, you know, doing this or doing that or doing something during the summer - what if - and this is a big What If, mates, this is The Big What If - we spent the summer wasting? Say, when we got back to school, oh, what did you do this summer, and you could reply, I spent the summer wasting! No one would know what to say and would think we've had the grandest summer holiday one could not plan!

It's brilliant! yells Peter in consent. Peter always yells when he gets excited.

Fantastic mate, First Class, Grade-A Idea, agrees James whole-heartedly, punching his fist in brotherly pride into Sirius's shoulder. Sirius grins and does the same back to James, and Peter grins because wasting the summer doesn't involve anything at all, so they are all grinning stupidly at each other in anticipation.

The only one not grinning is Remus, but that is because he is laughing. He thinks this is the stupidest idea Sirius has come up with yet, because how does one spend the summer wasting anyways? While they are spending seven weeks of summer feeling guilty for not learning, seven weeks of meandering along river walkways, and seven weeks of staying up all night, Remus has alternative plans.

Remus is planning on seven weeks of reading papers and not wasting his summer at all.

_

The first week of the Summer of Wasting has been a completely successful failure. Sirius convinces James and Peter that this paradox works out fine because this is, after all, the Summer of Wasting, and if one successfully fails at even living up to the standards of the Summer of Wasting, there is no higher achievement. Everything thus far is even below the standards of wasting time, and has thus been a huge success for everyone, drinks all around.

Remus rolls his eyes and pulls out the same book that he has been reading for a week. For some inexplicable reason, Remus has become distracted by all this wasting, and hasn't finished one ancient text yet. Sirius smirks as he notices the same, faded blue cover that Remus has been poking through for the last six days, and knows that it won't be long until Remus caves into the waste.

Remus knows this is what Sirius is thinking, because Sirius is leaning down to his shoulder and whispering Say cheerio to books now. His fingertips are lingering distractedly on Remus's neck, and his breath is pleasantly warm around the longer strands of Remus's sandy brown hair that is already flecked with grey at sixteen. A blush that could rival Peter's back on the Express creeps down Remus's collarbone, but neither Peter nor James notices, because both are fighting over the last piece of bacon rather viciously. A few punches have already been thrown, and James's glasses are broken. Only Sirius notices the blush and he grins -wolfishly.

Remus squares his shoulders and begins to read.

_

They are sleeping outside. Even though Remus protested quite fervently earlier, he does admit that it is awful nice to sleep out here now, under the stars and the under a canopy of leafy branches that trick him into thinking he is in a rainforest. A bird in the distance sounds like a toucan and Remus pretends that this place is a tropical paradise, complete with a wild river (the still pond) and wild animals (James, Sirius, and Peter).

It is near three in the morning. James and Peter have only just fallen asleep, maybe a half an hour ago. Remus thinks that Sirius has probably dropped off now, too, because he was just as loud in yelling wild 'African' chants around the fireside as they roasted sausages on sticks and made war paint out of the ashes.

But he isn't, Sirius isn't asleep, because two minutes after Remus has decided that there is a nice breeze and now is a good time to sleep, Sirius crawls into Remus's sleeping bag. Remus is so surprised that he can't think of any words to protest Sirius's action, and is actually more concerned about the welfare of his dirty, torn, ancient sleeping bag that had already seen many days and adventures, though admittedly, none of those days and adventures had been full of as destructive of a creature as Sirius Black.

Did you say cheerio to books now? asks Sirius pleasantly, acting as though nothing had happened at all, as though he had not just crawled into Remus's blue sleeping bag that is not ever and will not ever be meant for two because the zipper is broken.

Oh, no, assures Remus, though he is lying through his teeth. He has completely given up on books, because he now knows that he won't be able to think about anything except for this moment, this moment where Sirius is snuggled up rather inappropriately next to him in his dad's old sleeping bag. I haven't said cheerio at all, says Remus, resisting the urge to shout Look here, Sirius Black, you are touching me rather inappropriately on the thigh with your useless right hand of yours in my father's sleeping bag.

Sirius looks up at him from beneath his black fringe that glows dully in the dimming firelight. You know, he says, propping himself on one elbow, books aren't the only things that can be read, Remus.

Ha, scoffs Remus, ha, ha, ha, and what would you know about reading, you have never even cracked a book, except for that one time in first year when you found that dirty magazine under the bed and that hardly counts.

The only things I'll read are faces, says Sirius, looking amused. Remus shuts up. He has never thought of reading faces. They are so much more difficult to read than any old ancient text, says Sirius pointedly.

For the second time in two days, Remus blushes furiously.

Case in point, says Sirius, I am reading you right now, Remus Lupin. You are a difficult book to crack, for certain, because you are a rather difficult fellow. Hairy, moral, and with pressed trousers, no less.

Remus momentarily tenses. He likes his pressed trousers.

See, there you go, says Sirius. You tense up your face when I've said something that you think is rude and blatant. Your jaw, yeah, your jaw, go on and try to hide it, I already know what it does, yeah, it clenches up and makes a popping sound, like you're trying not to say 'Sirius Black you are a bloody prat and you ought to shut up right this very minute.'

Remus doesn't know what takes hold of him. Maybe it is all this wasting time business, or the stress of thinking how on earth he could spend seven weeks reading papers and not wasting it alongside his very best mates and Sirius Bloody Black, who just happens to be trilling his fingers on the top of Remus's thigh. Whatever it is, Remus leans forward and kisses Sirius square on the lips, a perfect kiss, without any nose colliding or bit lips or anything.

Sirius looks back at Remus, mouth open.

'____' says Sirius, because he can't think of anything to say at al.

You have just said absolutely nothing, says Remus nervously, his lower lip quivering. He has never possessed what he considers to be good social skills - social graces, certainly, but graces and skills are two entirely different things, just like Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are two entirely different species.

What is. What was. What for? What is that for, what was that for? asks Sirius. Was that, well, right, did that mean, did it mean. Right, did that mean anything, right, or was that just because, well, because?

I have spent six years wasting, says Remus shyly. I don't want to spend summer and seventh year too.

Sirius grins broadly, because this is spontaneous and new, though as Remus would later argue, had really been there all along. There is no one I would rather spend summer wasting than with you, says Sirius proudly.

Remus says, Me too. And he means it.

_

The everyday routine stays mostly the same, because it's not as though Sirius and Remus have suddenly started snogging in the middle of the quarry. Remus says it is uncouth to do so, and that is rude to snog in front of company. James already knew, somehow, and doesn't really mind. Sirius says it is because he was awake that first night of the rest of the summer. Remus says it is because James is more perceptive than he lets on and is really the best mate a werewolf can ask for. He doesn't say that last bit aloud to Sirius, though, because he feels that it will really make him into a giant poofter, even if he already is. James crows the first time Sirius wracks up enough courage to squish Remus's cheeks together and kiss him under the old oak tree before streaking into the quarry. Peter looks unsure of how to respond until he notices that Remus has Sirius spit all over his face and decides that anything that keeps Sirius from drooling on the carpet is a keeper, be it boy, girl, or sponge.

When Remus decides to kiss Sirius back, Sirius assures him that no one, least of all their two best mates, will think that such behavior is uncouth and rude in the quarry. Remus decides that some of his social graces need revising, especially if it encourages Sirius to integrate such large words like 'behavior' and 'uncouth' into his vocabulary.

You heard the bird say, squawks James, everything will be fine!

Remus lets out a howl of laughter as Sirius tackles James into the water.

_

The time is passed so easily: they swim in the quarry (just like Peter suggested back in the first place), they weave through the trees in pursuit of wild game for the 'sacrificial feast' (which always ends up being sausages that they buy from the local village), they watch the stars, they meander along the river walkways in search of real birds for James and Peter, and they stay up all night, every night, and are awake all day, because spending the summer wasting takes an awful lot of time.

This was a good, wasted summer, says Sirius, feeling awfully comfortable and pleased with himself as he lies beside Remus in the blue sleeping bag.

But if the summer's wasted, says Remus, how come I feel so free? Like I haven't slept under a canopy of seven weeks of feeling guilty for seven weeks of not reading papers, for seven weeks of river walkways, for seven weeks of staying up all night. I spent the summer wasting.

Well, says Sirius, I suppose you could look at it that way.

What will I remember the Summer of Wasting by? asks Remus, suddenly afraid that he spent his last Hogwarts summer frivolously when he should have been studying for some exam for some class that he didn't yet have. A photograph of myself is all I have to show for, that one that James took with his camera during the safari back in third week. You know, that day where the sky was blue beyond compare, bluer even than the quarry water.

And that is all you need, says Sirius. You are the only one who needs to remember and you don't have to show anything for it except for memories and that is all you need. You are asking me a ridiculous question and expecting a logical answer. You spent the summer wasting. It is absurd that Remus Lupin spent a summer wasting, instead of having his nose buried in an ancient text. It is as absurd as summer in winter, or saying winter is springtime. But it happens and has happened.

James rustles in his sleeping bag and whispers over, You heard the bird say everything will be fine, before muffling his giggles under his pillow. A second set of giggles erupts from Peter's sleeping bag. Remus realizes this is the first time Sirius has ever made sense.

Right, says Sirius, I will spend the last night of the Summer of Wasting wasting James Potter. James yelps and scuttles out of his sleeping bag, shrieking into the darkness. Sirius breaks the zipper open on the blue sleeping bag and darts after him.

Remus thinks Summer in winter, winter is springtime - a summer of wasting. Everything will be fine.