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24th December, El Quisco beach, Chile
“I’m dying. I’m going to die, and you’ll have to scoop my melted flesh to take it to the cemetery,” whines Regulus, covering his eyes by throwing an arm over his face. He yelps as Dorcas shovels handfuls of sand over his bare chest. “Fuck, Dorcas, that burns!”
“If you’re so adamant on dying, might as well bury you right here,” she shrugs, reaching for another scoop of blistering hot sand.
“Let the baby whine, Dorcas,” says Pandora, “he’s burning his skin enough as it is, there’s no need to make it worse.”
Sirius laughs loudly, making Remus–who’s lathering suncream on his back–frown at his sudden movement.
“If you stayed in the shade like the rest of us, you wouldn’t suffer so much,” Pandora says, reaching for the basket that holds the afternoon’s food. She pulls out a plastic container with green grapes, and slaps Dorcas’ hand when she tries to take one, “Let me have some first, I brought them and I know they’ll disappear in a few minutes.”
“What’s the point of coming to the beach if you’re going to stay in the shade?” Regulus lifts his head a little, trying to make eye contact with Pandora, “Also, they,” he points to Evan, Barty and James, huddled together closer to the ocean, “are not in the shade, yet seem to be having a blast.”
“They’re like children, they always have a blast,” says Remus, spreading the rest of the suncream onto his own arms, “and they’re also by the water, they probably won’t notice how warm it is until their skin is peeling off their shoulders.”
“You could go for a swim if you find it too hot here,” suggests Sirius, throwing the suncream bottle in Regulus’ direction.
“God, no,” he shudders, flinching when the bottle hits his leg, “no thanks. I know it’s fucking freezing, and I’d rather be red from the sun than red from cold water.”
“It’s not so bad, you just need to get used to it.”
The group throws Pandora a questioning glance. She’s the only one that enjoys swimming in the ocean, fully submerging herself even on colder days.
A thump behind them makes the group turn their heads around, looking for the source of the sound. Lily stands triumphantly, her face partially hidden by an enormous sun hat, holding a huge watermelon like one would hold a baby. At her side, Mary cleans her hands from the sand that accumulated from the walk through the beach, and Marlene is already taking her shoes off, throwing excited glances to the group huddled by the water.
“The vibe is off, guys. Cheer up, we brought watermelon!” exclaims Mary, slapping the fruit on Lily’s arms. She’s quick to grab Marlene’s arm with a disappointed look when her friend tries to scurry away. “You promised me you would put on suncream before running off to build that castle.”
Marlene rolls her eyes, but sits down by Remus’ side, who spreads the cream offered by Lily on her shoulders.
“See, Reg? It’s not so hard to take care of your skin.”
Regulus opens his mouth to sass his brother back, but he’s cut short by Lily’s yelp.
“Regulus Black! Don’t tell me you’re lying in the sun without proper protection!”
“I am lying in the sun without proper protection,” he mumbles, closing his eyes again. A beat of silence passes, and then he’s being grabbed by the leg and pulled under the shade. Regulus scoffs at Lily and sits up, grimacing at the sting in his back from being dragged through coarse sand. Lily immediately plops down by his side, rubs the sand off his back, and starts lathering suncream on it.
“God, you’re already turning red!” she recriminates him, though her harsh tone doesn’t match her gentle hands massaging the juncture of his neck. Regulus simply closes his eyes and leans back a little.
“Maybe I did it to match with your hair,” he mumbles, earning himself a slap on the head.
“There are easier ways to match with my hair that don’t require you burning yourself to a crisp.”
“Tell that to Barty,” laughs Dorcas, pointing with her head towards the group building the sand castle. Barty is, indeed, turning red under the blaring sun.
“I’m not even going to try with him,” sighs Lily. Regulus snorts.
“Yeah, that’s Evan’s job.”
The group stays in silence for a few seconds before Sirius–never one to enjoy the quiet–chimes in.
“What do you want to listen to?”
“The sound of the waves? The seagulls?” Regulus rolls his eyes, “We can listen to music anywhere else.”
“I’m praying for the day your emo phase goes away,” mumbles Dorcas, nudging him with her knee, “I’m fancying some Tommy Rey right now.”
Remus raises his eyebrows, “La Sonora de Tommy Rey? That’s more New Year coded, isn’t it?”
Dorcas shrugs, “It’s almost New Year isn’t it? Also, they have an entire Christmas album.”
“Mmm… I’m with Remus, it doesn’t feel very Christmassy,” says Mary, trying to sneak a hand into the pot of grapes Pandora is still holding.
“Well, we can always listen to ‘el burrito sabanero’, or ‘campana sobre campana’, if it’s such a problem,” says Pandora, allowing access to Mary, “I’m sure Regulus would love it.”
“Oh, we should definitely do that!” laughs Sirius, slapping the sand at his feet, “For old time’s sake.”
“We are not doing that,” frowns Regulus, “Just because I used to enjoy el burrito sabanero as a kid, doesn’t mean I enjoy it now.”
“Your brother told me he found you dancing to it the other day-” quips Remus with a half smirk. He’s interrupted by Dorcas’ roar of laughter, followed by the rest of the girls. Regulus throws Sirius a murderous look that doesn’t phase him in the slightest.
“It was the tuki tuki part!” adds his brother, trying to hold his giggles, “You looked just like in that old video Uncle Alphard has of-” Sirius yelps when tackled by Regulus, who’s trying to stop his brother from talking by covering his mouth.
“There’s a video of baby Reg?” asks Pandora, way too excited for Regulus’ liking.
Sirius nods under Regulus’ hand, who curses and presses harder, forcing Sirius’ head back into the sand.
“Why are we talking about baby Reg?” asks Barty, plopping by Pandora and trying to snatch some grapes for himself, unsuccessfully. Evan, James and Marlene follow behind, faces red and covered in sand.
“We are not talking about baby Reg” mumbles Regulus, straining to keep Sirius down. He begrudgingly lets his brother go when Evan pulls him back by the shoulder.
“There’s a video of seven year old Regulus dancing to el burrito sabanero,” says Sirius as soon as his mouth is free, the traitor, “and dancing isn’t really accurate, he was twerking to it.”
Barty cackles loudly, “So you were always a whore? Good to know.”
The entire group laughs at Regulus’ sputtering, and quickly settles into relaxed conversation when Dorcas, taking advantage of the distraction, finally plays the album she wanted.
“Alright, I brought a little treasure for us to share,” says James loudly, catching everyone’s attention. He pulls a glass bottle out of his backpack, filled with a light brown liquid that has Sirius whooping.
“Please tell me it’s Effie’s recipe!” He exclaims, cheering even louder when James confirms his question with a nod.
“You brought cola de mono?” asks Marlene, still trying to scrape her nails free of sand, “I could kiss you right now.”
“Wait until you try it,” laughs James, “And I’d recommend kissing my mother, seeing as she made it.”
“I always want to kiss your mother, James, but it’s good to know I have your blessing now.”
James pretends to gag before reaching into his bag again, this time to pull some shot glasses out. With Remus and Pandoras’ help, he pours the liquid on each glass, and Regulus soon finds himself nursing a small amount of sweet smelling liquor. After everyone has a glass, James raises his own and waits for the rest of the group to copy him.
“To a beautiful Christmas with my dearest friends,” he says solemnly, tilting his head downwards. From his angle, Regulus can see the cheeky grin on James’ lips.
“Christmas is tomorrow, though,” says Barty, “Today is Christmas Eve, and tomorrow, the 25th, is Christmas,” he adds after James’ frown.
“That’s some gringo bullshit. We celebrate today and lay rotting in bed tomorrow, just the way God intended,” says James, shaking his head.
“Fermenting,” says Lily, grinning. All heads turn questioningly to her, so she adds, “We’ll lay in bed fermenting tomorrow, from all the eating and drinking.”
“Exactly my thoughts, Lily my love, and if we want that to happen, we should drink this cola de mono my mum made with all of her love,” says James, raising his glass shortly again and taking a long sip. The group follows his lead, and the beach is soon filled with moans, groans and curses.
“James, I will kiss your mother,” says Marlene, closely inspecting the remaining liquor on her glass, “Consider yourself warned.”
“I’ll join you on the action, Marls, this might be the best cola de mono I’ve ever tried,” says Evan with his eyes closed.
“Oh, don’t let our aunt hear that, she won’t let you drink hers ever again,” giggles Pandora, “I might ask you mother for the recipe, James, this is really good.”
James takes in the compliments with a wide smile and a bowed head. After the last praises, he turns to Sirius and Remus to ask them something.
“Do you have a present for your amigo secreto?” asks Barty, leaning closer to Regulus.
“I do, I brought it with me,” answers Regulus, his mind immediately worrying about the scented candle he bought for Dorcas. He eyes his bag to make sure it’s not lying where the sun can melt the wax.
“Oh, I know what I’m getting my amigo secreto, but I haven’t bought it yet,” says Barty casually. Regulus frowns.
“And when exactly do you plan on buying it?” he asks, tilting his head.
“As soon as we go back, the malls will still be open,” his friend shrugs, still too casual for Regulus’ liking, who bought his present the same week the group raffled their names, “Oi, when are we eating that watermelon? We abandoned our architecture project because we were promised some juicy watermelon,” Barty points to the sand castle, frowning when he sees it already a bit destroyed, a product of the raising tides.
Remus huffs with a smile, and asks Lily for a knife. The group watches in entranced silence as the fruit opens with a crack, juice immediately dripping into the spread towels. Remus handles the usually messy task with efficiency, and Regulus finds himself agreeing with his brother’s taste in men. Competence really is hot.
“This reminds me of the play we did in school,” says Lily, still watching the fruit being sliced, “Mary brought a watermelon for the general rehearsal, and we wasted a lot of time cutting it and eating it. The teacher couldn’t even be mad at us, she loved watermelon way too much.”
“Oh, that was such a great experience!” nods Sirius, “I got to be the embodiment of God for that play… I guess the teacher finally saw my ethereal beauty,” he lifts a hand to do a flowery gesture under his chin.
“Nah mate, you just have a baby face, therefore, you got to play as the baby,” laughs James.
“Reg also played Jesus, and he does not have a baby face!” says Sirius, offended. Regulus rolls his eyes.
“Regulus definitely does have a baby face. It’s the Black Family curse,” Lily nudges Regulus’ foot from across the spread towels. Regulus rolls his eyes again, “You were also a shit baby, Sirius, and I can say that because I had to play as your mother.”
The group laughs at Sirius’ gasp of indignation.
“Babies are shit! I was very much in character!”
Dorcas waves her index finger in front of Sirius’ face. “Your brother was a delightful baby Jesus, and I can say that because I got the pleasure to play as his mother.”
Sirius starts opening his mouth to retort, but is interrupted by Barty’s loud voice.
“You take so much offense for such an insignificant character! I got the most important role of the Christmas play…” he places both hands under his chin, batting his eyes, “the donkey!!”
The entire group erupts in hysterical giggles. James raises both arms over his head and whoops.
“Me too!” he exclaims over the noise, “And I was such a great donkey, too!”
“Not greater than me, of course,” says Barty, receiving the slice of watermelon Remus offers him, “I even studied the way donkeys walk, so I could make it believable.”
James scoffs. “Well, I wanted to be a stag, but the teacher would only accept me as the donkey. I can assure you, if I had been able to play as a stag, I would’ve beaten your arse as the best animal of the play.”
“Sure, honey, whatever you say,” says Barty dismissively before taking a huge bite off the watermelon.
Regulus shakes his head with a small smile, and uses his nails to get rid of the seeds of the watermelon slice he received from Remus while Barty and James bickered. He has to hold back a moan when he bites into the fruit’s flesh and the sweet juice fills his mouth, flooding his taste buds with the taste of summer.
The moment is ruined, of course, by a strong gust of wind that forces Regulus to close his eyes to prevent sand from entering. He sighs and takes another bite of his slice of fruit, only to flinch when his teeth close on crunchy sand. Regulus doesn’t bother trying to clean his watermelon, he simply glares at the ocean and gets used to the loud crunch that resonates in his skull.
The rest of the afternoon stays more or less the same. Bickering, laughing, yelping at the sting of wind-carried sand, some going for a swim on the freezing cold ocean, and some staying under the scalding hot sun.
Regulus can feel the effects of the beach on his body when they start gathering their belongings to leave. His eyes feel heavy from the bright light and the heat, and he knows he will have to fight against sleep on their way back. His limbs feel heavy in that sun-powered way he’s only ever felt when going to the beach, slowing his steps.
The entire group seems to feel the effects of the ocean, though, so it’s not a problem.
Regulus pays attention to the conversation Sirius is having with Mary, Lily, Barty and Pandora a few steps ahead of him.
“Every year I’m thankful that we have summer in December. That way, I can dress properly for all the formal dinners,” says his brother. Even from the slight distance, Regulus can see the way his eyes blink slowly.
“Properly? You mean like a slut,” he can’t help but retort. Pandora looks back at him with a cheeky smile.
“Same thing,” says Sirius with a wink.
James appears suddenly by Regulus’ side, carrying a bag on each hand. He shares a cheerful look with Regulus. “I’m also thankful for the warmth of December,” he says, “Can you imagine? Christmas with cold and snow… it’d be so bizarre.”
Regulus tilts his head back to laugh. The sun hits his cheeks with its blistering rays, strong even hours after noon. He can feel the heat settling under his skin, painting it blotchy red.
Cold and snow sounds truly bizarre.