His body was floating. No, it was rocking. Or was that rest of the world?
Thrum bum bum drum. The whole world caught up in one pulse, one beat, one constant pounding that sent waves rippling through the sea of people.
Oh wait. He wasn't moving. He was hearing something. Something steady. Repetitive.
Laughing. It sounded like his own laughing. Lily's laughing eyes looking out from his own face. There was something a little bit perfect about that.
It wasn't rocking, it was crashing. Maybe he should try opening his eyes. Why were they closed?
It's fucking five in the morning, Prongs.... I love you too, now fuck off.... No, I will not tell Remus.
Feeling around a bit, it surfaced in his awareness that he was lying down. On the ground. The sandy ground. Slowly, he pushed himself up so he was sitting up a bit. When he finally managed to force his eyes open, they found the ocean. Waves beating down on the beach some meters off, the sky all peachy pinks and purples with rising sun creeping out to reclaim world.
The back of one hand rubbed a bit of sleep from his eyes while the other began patting along his own chest. It continued its search and the other joined in. Glancing down he was a bit surprised by what he saw. An indigo shirt with no sleeves, and Merlin, where the hell did he get all these bracelets? Blinking, he had vague memories of a blond pushing them onto his wrist. Or a brunette. Or a blond and a brunette. No matter. His hands moved to continue their inventory. Wand in the back pocket of his trousers (now burgundy and remarkably soft. Oh that's right, they'd transfigured their clothes a bit after they'd finished with the owls), the shrunken mirror and pouch in one front pocket, pack and lighter in the other.
Lighting up, he took a moment to just soak up the moment. His head was pounding a bit, but nothing major. It was cold, but they could see to that. It was brilliant, just for a minute, to watch the ocean... the ocean that lay just beyond the view obstructed by... wait, he didn't wear trainers. How the bloody hell did he get these? These weren't his! Somehow this made even less sense than loosing his own shoes. Thankfully, he knew that unlike the true owner of these shoes, by the time he got home his now well worn Converse pair would be happily waiting for him. Rolling his eyes at himself, and the fact that part of him was grateful that at least they weren't women's shoes - although maybe that would have been better - he glanced over at Harry. Their striking resemblance was even more pronounced when Harry's eyes were closed. James was quite confident, however, that he never looked quite so ungracefully sprawled when he passed out on a beach. Well maybe sometimes when he'd-
"Are those my shoes?" he suddenly marveled, his eyes glued to his son's feet.