Ranger Sirius and His Record-Keeping

Dedicated to my lovely friend, Gracie Grace, for her sixteenth birthday!

Author's Note: Bundles and bundles of profanity as I believe fits Sirius' character. Really, it's rated T for a reason. Hope you enjoy the story as much as (I think) Gracie Grace did!

DAY 1: Campgrounds

Finally arrived at Camp Sucks-A-Lot. Still can't believe Remus willingly spent his childhood in forests with his parents. Even with his furry little problem, how can someone love the woods so much?

Everyone voted me as record-keeper, the bastards. They think it's funny, me leaning over the fucking journal, writing, but oh no, it's not funny. Hate them. Wish Remus didn't have the tradition of keeping a journal per camping trip. What can there be to write about the forest anyway?

Glad we're staying only a week. Or something.

DAY 1: Campgrounds

Setting up camp.

Task List

Evans' Personal Slave: Starting fire. Failing at it miserably. He doesn't know what he's doing. I'm tossing him pine cones to burn but he keeps getting angry. Really amusing.

Ugly Furry Arse-Face: Organizing the supplies (personal belongings & food supply). Keeps asking if we think we have "enough food to sustain us through the winter." He's making a bad joke. Told him but was ignored.

Blond Dumpling: Setting up tent, but I don't know why the hell we made him do it. We all know Peter has no knack with canvas ever since he almost suffocated himself and Gracie Denbow with a monstrous tent thing in sixth year. I think he was trying to be romantic. I'm not sure.

The Most Beautiful and Handsome Wizard On Earth In the Galaxy: Record-keeping. Rather brilliantly too. Can't touch this. Yow.

DAY 1, Campgrounds

Ugly Furry Arse-Face yelled at me for some reason. I yelled back at his head, but everyone blew up at me. What the hell.

Set on the task list of helping Evans' Personal Slave with building fire. Even though I told them I have to be recording stuff like U.F.A.F. (Ugly Furry Arse-Face) told me to. I mean, I was elected to this position. It's very important.

"Stop sitting on your arse, get up and help, for Merlin's sake!" Whoa, U.F.A.F. Your face is getting a little red. Then E.P.S. (Evans' Personal Slave) was all, "Who do you think you are?"

Sirius Black. Or: The Most Beautiful and Handsome Wizard In the Galaxy. Duh.

For fuck's sake, why don't we just use our wands to light the damn sticks? Screw tradition, it's tradition for wizards all around the world. Gimme that, James Potter–

DAY 1, Campgrounds

I AM GOING TO DIE.

No, you prats, I didn't "run out of shampoo" or "leave my comb at home." Shut up. I care about how I look, but I'm not a bloody woman. I'm a hard-arse man. Hard-arse man who eats raw meat and kills mountain lions with my bare hands. That's right.

But this hard-arse man is going to die. We are all going to die.

Why?

WE LEFT OUR BLOODY WANDS AT HOME, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE.

Don't even know how this happened. Head is throbbing. So sure I put it in my pocket, but is not there. How is this even possible? How is this scenario even possible? We're on the verge–no, we are in war–and we're going to be participating in the resistance movement, for fuck's sake, and we forget our wands at home. What kind of lame, unprepared people are we?

Everyone seemed pretty bummed about it too (although I think Peter was bummed about no fire, not bummed about the shame of failing as resistance members). Remus looked lost for a second. For the first time in my life, Remus Lupin looks lost.

Applause. An unforgettable moment that will never be repeated again.

At least, I hope not.

DAY 1, Campgrounds

Remus gave us a pep talk. "We're going to be okay. We're full-grown wizards. We'll just hunt, gather, fish a bit as we go down the mountain to find some settlement. We'll find a Floo Network there, for sure." (Because our Portkey was a stick so now we can't find it in the bloody stick-covered forest. Whose bright idea was it to make a stick the Portkey?)

My question of, "What if it's a Muggle town?" was ignored.

No one believes his shit, but we let him go on because it makes him feel better about the situation. Being a "leader" and all. Maybe he knows we don't believe him. He'll sure know when he reads this later.

DAY 1, Campgrounds

Everyone is hungry and we can't start a fire. Merlin.

DAY 1, Campgrounds

Dinner was horrible.

The wood was wet. Even Remus, the Boy Scout and Professional Camper, gave up.

We had only cold cans of beans as the only food that did not require cooking.

A lot of suggestions of going out and picking berries or mushrooms. Anything other than beans. I suggested we stop whining and eat it cold.

Boy, do I regret that.

The beans were terrible. Soggy. Cold. Nasty. And the fucking can wouldn't open. It made me swear a lot and my swearing made everyone else uncomfortable. Remus told me I need to have my mouth washed out with soap. Whatever.

Remus ate his entire can enthusiastically. I think he was just showing off so he appears "strong" and a "leader". I stared at my beans for a while. They looked like rubber penises. I pointed this out and Peter refused to eat his can. Remus glared at me. So did James.

I was thirsty the entire time. The rubber penises–beans–were washed in salty liquid. I told Peter that was semen. He definitely refused to eat it after that. So did James.

Now everyone's mad at me. Remus threatened to kick my arse.

Camping is horrible.

DAY 1, Campgrounds

Setting up the tent. Remus was having trouble with instructions. Couldn't find the English side. I laughed at him so he threw something at me. I dodged it though.

It got better though. James set up poles and Peter pulled the canvas over it. I stood inside and held everything up. Remus read the instructions aloud. We were all pretty quiet. I think we were thinking about our wands at home and trying to figure out how this happened. We're usually not this stupid. (Evans would probably say, "I disagree," but she's not here so it doesn't matter.)

DAY 1, Tent

Another problem with not having our wands: Our tent's inside is not enlarged yet. We were going to do that on the campsite. Another issue with not being properly prepared.

We really have to cram for all four of us giant teenage boys to fit in the tent. We have to lay sideways and poke each other with our bulgy bits. It's extremely uncomfortable and embarrassing and perverted at the same time.

I offered to sleep outside. So did James. Then two people could sleep comfortably in the tent while the two others would sleep staring at the stars. It was a really good idea.

Until it started raining.

Seriously. Rain. Rain sucks. I hate camping so much.

Now we're crammed in here. With our privates pressing up against each others' buttocks. It is the most embarrassing, uncomfortable, disgusting, perverted circumstance that has occurred in my entire seventeen years. I want to bang my head against a wall. But there are no walls in stupid camping.

We drew straws to see how would get the outside and thus, less contact from everyone else. Remus and Peter won. Stupid buggers.

The outside's dark with its shower of rain. We're glad the tent's at least water-proof and the sleeping bags and pillows are warm. It's kind of cozy in here.

GAH! I just moved my hand to a different position and it ended up against Remus' arse! He glared back at me and I was like, "Whoa. Sorry. So didn't mean that." He was just like, "Get away from me." Which is a dumb thing to say. We can't get away from each other in this tent.

Honestly, I should've just taken the rain.

Merlin, James better not have some perverted dream about Evans. I don't want something prodding up my arsehole all night. That would be even more embarrassing and uncomfortable.

Everyone's clambering for sleep. Night.