Chapter Text
The sounds of people splashing about on a warm summer day floated dulcetly through the air, and the smell of heat and coconut sunscreen permeated the breeze. The afternoon was pure poetry; the perfect summer day for a group of teenagers at the pool.
Unfortunately, Sirius Black was currently without a group of friends to enjoy the day with, and he didn't like the pool very much on its own.
Sure, he'd started the sunny day with people, but his wonderfully idiotic best friend, James Potter, was too busy ogling the local, long-legged wildlife to spare even a glance for the poor youth guarding his glasses by the poolside.
Woe.
"Sirius, if you're not going to use the sunscreen, can I?" Oh right, Peter Pettigrew was there too. But, no offense to him, he was kind of poor company. All he wanted to do was people watch in silence.
Sirius heaved a sigh and pushed up his sunglasses before tossing the stick of sunblock to him. "Make sure to get your nose this time, Pete. Don't want to look like Christmas in July, do you?"
Peter looked vaguely annoyed, but dabbed some sunscreen over his nose anyway. "How would a sunburn make me look like Christmas in July?"
"You'd look like Rudolph! You know, because your nose is red?"
With a shake of his head, Peter heaved himself out of his chair to go join James by the pool, who currently seemed to be chatting up a blonde. She was pretty, Sirius supposed, but all together kind of boring looking. Absolutely not attractive enough to require all of his friend's attention. Peter seemed to have eyes for her shorter gal pal, who seemed to be the reason he'd bothered to leave his chair. That girl seemed thoroughly uninterested in Peter, but the blonde had a flirtatious smile fixed on James.
This was one of the many, many reasons Sirius hated going to the pool with him. The boy was simply girl-crazed, fawning over anything with nice legs that strolled his way. Any and all members of the female species were in danger of being tossed the worst pick-up line they'd ever hear if they dared to cross James's eyeline. It was frankly hard to watch sometimes. If he could, he would skip out on it every time. However Effie and Monty, James's overwhelmingly perfect parents, insisted that he was welcome at the country club as their guest any time he tried to brush off a visit. He always gave in because he couldn't very well tell them all the real reasons he never wanted to go swimming.
They were too embarassing.
He stretched his arms up over his head, feeling his joints pop, soaking in the sun. Maybe next time, he could bring a book. And at the very least, he could try and work on his tan while he was stuck lounging on a pool chair.
His stubbornly pale skin had never tanned before, but one could hope and pray. Maybe the bright sun would be enough to kill off the rest of the sun-reflecting residue left behind by the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. He was sure his mother would hate to see even a hint of a sunkissed complexion; she preferred her sons looking sick and deathly all the time. Their pallid faces really helped bring out the coffin-like nature of the rest of their home decor.
Suddenly relishing in the idea that he could bring some color back home that his parents couldn't throw away, he used his towel to scrub some sunscreen off of his face. In the split second he had his eyes covered, a torrent of ice cold water hit him in the stomach, his muscles contracting involuntarily. He jumped up, tripping over his shoes which had been haphazardly tossed by his feet.
"What the hell, James?!" He sputtered.
His "friend" was clutching his sides, cackling like a witch. He held a bucket in one hand, and Sirius watched it swing wildly as ice cold water dripped from his hair.
Peter poked James's arm, a hand covering his mouth as he laughed silently. "I think he's mad at you."
"Sure he is!" James crowed. "I just ruined his hair!"
"My hair?!" Sirius shrieked, before jumping and throwing an arm around James's neck. James laughed even harder, trying to get him off. "That's what you're worried about? My coiffure will bounce back, but I'm pretty sure our friendship won't! I was trying to tan!"
James shoved Sirius with a huge grin on his face. "Don't use French words just to be fancy!" The second half of his sentence was muffled by Sirius's hand which was now traversing over his face. "And since when do you tan?"
With one strong yank, James finally got Sirius unhooked from his neck and went running. Sirius, naturally, chased after him after a split second of deliberation. Dully, in the background, he registered the whistle of a lifeguard.
"Wait!" Peter cried after them, struggling to keep up with the fun. "There's no running by the pool!"
"Sorry, Pete, but the chase is on now." Sirius called behind him, eyes locked firmly on the figure clad in gold swimming trunks in front of him.
He sped up, reaching out for the bucket he was holding. How James was running so well without his glasses was a mystery; he was pretty much blind, save for general shapes and colors.
Right as the thought occurred to Sirius, right as his fingertips grazed the half-full bucket, James ran straight into a person wearing bright red shorts, a rash guard, and a visor. Sirius followed suit, skidding and slipping on the wet concrete.
"No running." Said the lifeguard flatly. He'd barely budged, which Sirius thought was a miracle with both him and James bludgering right into him like that.
Some credit for that probably went to his height; he was incredibly tall, like a statue or maybe even a New York skyscraper. But that wasn't all Sirius noticed about him. He had this… immovable sense to him. His jaw was set, and his arms were crossed over his chest. His entire countenance screamed "I am in control, and there's nothing you can do about it". Even his eyebrows seemed strict and severe.
Sirius instantly hated his entire vibe. It reminded him of his father. Or maybe his brother, even. The only thing sort of organic about his image was the way his blondish-brownish-copperyish curls flopped over his forehead, but even that annoyed him because he had no right to have such nice hair with an attitude like his.
Mr. Fun Police watched disdainfully as Sirius and James extricated themselves from the tangle they'd tripped into. Peter strolled up behind them sheepishly, looking glad to have wormed his way out of trouble.
"Sorry, man. Couldn't see you." James said as he stood and stuck out a hand in apology.
Why did James always have to be so nice? It wasn't like they'd meant to do it, so why bother apologizing?
"You might've been able to see me in time if you'd slowed down." The lifeguard said.
Sirius scowled sourly. "He isn't wearing his glasses. It wouldn't have made a difference."
"It could've made all the difference. The rules are there to keep you safe. If you push it, I'll have to ask you to leave."
Obviously this guy was new. James's parents were major contributors to the country club; it was like asking a prince to leave his own kingdom. You couldn't just make him go without causing problems way up the food chain. Sirius's fists clenched, and he prayed that just once, James would snap at somebody.
Ever gracious, somehow, James just blinked. "Won't happen again, man— er… sir. I'll do my best to… walk carefully?"
Mr. Fun Police hesitated before relaxing his shoulders. "No need to call me sir, Remus is fine. And I believe you."
Remus (What a stupid name, he thought to himself) turned his gaze to Sirius, obviously expecting him to have something apology-adjacent to say. He'll just have to be disappointed, he thought as he flicked his eyes mockingly down to the plastic whistle Remus wore.
"We're just having a bit of fun. No need to get rude about it." He grumbled.
"Same goes for you. Push the rules, and you're out."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
Sirius sniffed. The stinging scent of chlorine hit his nose and he fought back a cringe. Did he hate the pool? Yes. Did he particularly want to keep coming back every single day? Absolutely not.
Suddenly, however, he had never felt more resolved to annoy a person to death ever in his life.
Later, when he, James, and Peter had packed their things and gotten on the bus back to the Potters', he turned to James and plastered a smile on his face.
"Can we go swimming again tomorrow? I have some ideas for games we can play."