Never Cursed

𝔏𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔢

Sirius Black

Jericho River

"You had no right to wake me up this early! To go canoeing in a freezing river, no less!" Sirius cried out as he tried to get rid of the numbing sensation taking over his feet.

Sirius had never felt the urge to curse anyone as much as he wanted to curse James when the icy water of the river skimmed over his feet.

Yesterday, James had insisted during dinner that the Marauders should all exercise early in the morning. Sirius knew his friend had always been competitive, sporty, and driven, but his newfound obsession with winning the Poe Cup race was unnerving.

The annual canoe race was held on the Jericho River, with teams of four students competing against each other, each representing their dormitory. However, that initial rule wasn't strictly followed anymore, and students could now form their teams almost as they wanted. All they needed was the approval of Rendell, the school's director, who insisted that each team select the title of a poem of Edgar Allan Poe as their team name. If Sirius had been asked, he would have said the man was completely crazy about the gothic writer. But then again, everyone had their little obsessions, starting with James and this race.

"Sirius!" James yelled, "You've been complaining since you opened your damn eyes!" On the contrary, James seemed utterly immune to the cold and exhaustion.

Sirius couldn't believe his friend was doing this several times a week.

"Yes!" he retorted, turning to him furiously, his feet frozen in the river as they made their way towards the canoe James had prepared beforehand. "Because they were supposed to stay closed!"

"We have to exercise if we want to win this boat race!" James replied back, grabbing the oar. "I can't believe Remus and Peter are still sleeping like babies right now," he added, visibly disappointed that the other boys had refused his urging.

Sirius threw him a dreadful glare, and James only chuckled, apologising, "I'm glad you've decided to come."

"Thank you," Sirius said ironically.

"Don't make me say it twice," James snapped back, smirking.

"And I," Sirius said, pointing toward himself, "don't get why we have to exercise in fucking December. It's freezing out here."

"Get your sorry arse in the water!" James cried out from where he was already mounting on the canoe. Sirius could hear the chuckle in James's voice as he stood by the river shore.

"I hate this," he murmured to himself, struggling to enter the freezing water. To make matters worse, the rocks were hurting his feet. He should have bought sports shoes in Jericho. James said he could wear his own shoes. But what am I going to wear, fucking Dr. Martens?

The thought of Remus and Peter still comfortably sleeping in their bed made him want to slap James in the face.

"What do the winners get anyway?" he cried out, hoping his voice would reach James.

"That, my friend, is what we must find out!" the sportive boy screamed back, both hands raised to his mouth to carry his voice across the river.

"Stupid race!" Sirius swore, his frustration evident.

"It's a tradition, Sirius!" James exclaimed, clearly exasperated by Sirius's nonchalance. "The first race took place in 1897! We must win this year, think about the Marauders' legacy for Merlin's sake!"

"How can you speak to me about tradition?" Sirius retorted, throwing his arms in the air and stopping dead once his navel came in contact with the cold water. "We're fucking exchange students, James! Exchange students!" he repeated, emphasising each word.