Werewolf Fever

~*************~

Werewolf Fever

CHAPTER FOUR:

Sirius

The sun rose as soon as it had fallen, and James Potter found himself squinting into the bright light streaming through the dorm's window. He gave a little grumble, and then slowly rolled his aching body out of bed. Remus was already wide awake, balancing a large cuppa on a stack of musty old texts. He was chewing on the end of a toast triangle, eyes locked on the book opened in front of him.

"It's Sunday, Moony." James stretched wide and winced as several of his vertebrae popped back into line. "I hope you're not doing homework this early -- Sirius will kick your sorry arse if you're not procrastinating like we taught you to."

"It's not homework," Remus answered flatly, flipping through several pages as his toast balanced on his knee. "I'm looking up those Self-Destruction Curses that Lily mentioned lest night. They --"

"You got up to research?" James interrupted.

"I just want to figure this whole mess out," Remus continued, not looking up from the text he was reading. "The flu from hell? Your four-year-old rantings? Not to mention Peter's little show. Something stinks in the state of Denmark, mate. And it's not the bloody cow tongue."

James rubbed the side of his face roughly. His glance slid towards the four-poster across from him. Peter lay snoozing where he had been thrown the night before. "Right then, even I'll have to admit that yesterday was a one-night wonk fest. Something is definitely wrong with Peter."

"It's not just Peter." Remus suddenly stood up from his bed and began to pace down the floor. "It's everything. I know that, somehow, all of this nonsense is connected. It's not just some strange coincidence that we're all going completely off of our onions one day at a time." He ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly. "We've got to find out what's happening before something happens blows up in ours faces. Honestly, Peter's already a handful; what if --"

"Moony." James caught his companion by the shoulder, discontinuing the pacing trend. "If you want to find out what's happening, you've got to settle down first. It doesn't help you if you start hyperventilating. Now, listen to me." Remus sat at the end of his bed, watching James speak. "We can handle Peter; that's fine. Hell, we could bind him to the bed if we absolutely need to. Don't worry about that now. Let's go downstairs for breakfast, do some damage control from last night, then head over to the library."

"Did someone say breakfast?"

Peter had risen out of his bed, rubbing the bruised side of his face. As a precaution, James lifted his wand from his bedside table just to be ready in case his friend decided to repeat yesterday's mindset.

"Sit down, Pettigrew." James growled as both he and Remus rose to face the askew Marauder.

Looking a little pale and quite confused, Peter quickly took a seat on the hardwood floor, his beady eyes locked on the wand pointed at his forehead.

"James, what--"

"You're staying here," James continued, cutting Peter off. "You're staying here and behaving yourself. If you ever try anything like last night, I will personally --"

"Last night?" Peter's voice quivered, the effect of James's forceful order weighing heavily on him. "What . . . What happened last night?"

"You know damn well what happened," Remus murmured bitterly. "I'd stay out of the seventh years' way from now on. After what you did to Phinny, they're tasting blood in the water. And we're certainly not about to protect you."

Peter gulped hard, losing his ability to speak without stuttering. "Ph-Phiona? I d-don't know what you're t-t-talking about. Honestly, I d-don't."

James raised an eyebrow and lowered his wand. "You don't remember anything?"

Peter shook is head. "I've got such a b-bad headache . . . It's like I don't want to remember." He bit his lip and continued. "I did something I'm going to regret, didn't I?"

"I'll say," Remus answered. "Tried to curse Sirius, took on half of the Slytherin house by yourself, and then, to top it all off, you decked Phinny in front everyone in the Common Room."

"I h-h-hit Phiona?" Peter groaned, looking nauseous at the very thought. "Oh God, I'm going to die . . . I would never, never -- She's going to come after me, Remus! Phiona's going to come after me and try to drown me in one of the toilets --"

"Settle down, Peter. I'm sure Phinny will completely understand," Remus blatantly lied.

"But, you're fine now?" James questioned. "You don't feel any great urge to strangle Moony or I?"

"No!" Peter said breathlessly, as if the very idea horrified him.

James exchanged a long glance with Remus, who looked as though he was about to burst.

"One day, Jim!" He exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. "One day! I was sick for twenty-four hours! You were out of your bloody mind for twenty-four hours! Peter lost all control of his temper for twenty-four hours! It all fits!"

"Are you saying that some sort of spell was cast on us, but it just . . . disappears after one day?" James asked slowly.

"Not at all," Remus answered bluntly. "Follow me for a moment. When I was sick, I sneezed on you. Remember?"

"How could I ever forget?"

"As soon as I sneezed on you, I felt better. Almost as if the cold had completely disappeared." Remus started to pace around the room again. "Then, just as soon as I fully recovered, you began to act like a child. And, if I remember correctly, Peter told me that you bit him."

"He did." Peter nodded. "So, you're saying that we're . . . transferring a . . . spell between us?"

"Spot on." Remus grinned. "When I sneezed on James, he got the bug which made him think he was a child. Then, when James bit you, you got the sudden urge to strangle everyone."

"But what are we all catching?" James asked. "We don't have any of the same symptoms. It doesn't make any sense."

Remus, fully stumped with that one, sat on the end of his trunk, his chin resting in the palm of his hands. James took his glasses off and began to rub his temples as Peter coughed uncomfortably.

"Oy, James?"

"Hmmm?"

"I just remembered something."

"What is it, Pete?"

"Something from last night."

"You remember?"

"I think so."

"Spit it out, Peter," Remus interrupted.

"Yeah, that's the problem." Peter bit his lower lip. "I think I spat on Sirius."

James and Remus both swallowed hard, glancing over to the bed were the fourth Marauder was positioned. Unfortunately, there was no Sirius to be found.

"You don't think . . ." Peter started.

"Wouldn't doubt it," replied James. "If I could transfer this curse by biting you, spitting may be a good bet too."

"We need to find him. Fast." Remus began to frantically plough through a pile of laundry at the side of his trunk and finally pulled out his jumper. "Until we know what this is, I don't want it lose on the rest of the school. If Sirius starts running rabid with it, we wont have a bloody chance to con--" Remus stopped suddenly, his jumper half-way over his head. "Did you blokes . . . hear that?"

James and Peter stopped dressing into order to place all extra energy in their powers of hearing.

"What are we listening to?" James whispered.

Narrowing his eyes, Remus began to walk forward towards one of the dorm's large windows. "I can't . . . put my finger on it . . . But--"

With one swift motion, Remus clicked open the latch and swung one of the glass panels open. The sound which had pierced the young lycanthrope's ears finally reached James and Peter. A soft melody floated into the dorm, sounding as though someone was humming a little tune right outside the boy's window. This, of course, was impossible because even the wandering crows couldn't grab hold of the projecting cornerstones which covered Gryffindor Tower. Only someone completely off their bloody onion would dare balance on one of these thin ledges.

"Sirius! Are you completely off your bloody onion!?" Remus dove towards the window, leaning as far out as he could without risking a bone-crushing fall. With one hard pull, he threw Sirius safely back into the room without great injury, then proceeded to lock the window behind him.

Sirius rolled into a sitting position. "Hello and good morning, my friends," he said cheerfully. Mind you, the only time Sirius experienced cheerfulness was when a large pile of illegal betting quid sat on his lap. Make that a large pile of quid or two blond birds; either or, really. Sirius wasn't bias when it came to this sort of cheerfulness, but both at the same time, he admitted, would probably be best. "It is such a beautiful day out, I decided to enjoy it the way nature attended me to."

"By almost breaking your bloody neck?" James exclaimed. "What were you thinking, Sirius?"

"I was thinking," Sirius's eyes focused on something far beyond Peter's right ear, "about the children, James . . . The children . . ."

Silence.

Remus decided to test the waters first in order to know how deep in shit they were. "What . . . about the children, Pads?"

"They're so . . . small."

Swearing angrily, James pulled off his glasses and began to rub his temples. "Not again," he muttered. "Peter, you gave the whatsit to Sirius now. Lovely shit, thanks Pete."

Sirius gasped, his eyes rushing back into focus. "James Phineas Potter!" he squealed. "I will not have you utter such vulgarity in my presences. I am sure Remus and Peter would agree with me."

"Yeah," Remus snorted with laughter, "James-Phineas. I reckon we'll have to clean your mouth out with soap."

"Oh piss off, you." James gave his chortling friend a shove. "Sirius, you curse more then all three of us put together. Hell, the day isn't complete for you unless you uses the words "Fuck" and "Mother" in the same sentence. Don't you remember?"

"You must have me mistaken," Sirius said solemnly, "with someone else. Mothers are sacred, you know. As is the right of intercourse. Never should the two of them be mixed, my randy fellow."

"Oy," Peter winced, his hands moving to cover his face. "He's gone."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"None of the symptoms are in here. I've been all over this bloody book hundreds of times."

"This is hopeless."

"No, Padfoot is hopeless. This is just a really really high obstacle. Keep checking these books -- We have to find something."

Hordes of various spell books were strung around one corner of the library. In the middle of it all sat James, Remus, and Peter, mechanically sifting through all the texts until they found a wisp of hope for their troubled cause. Sirius was kept on a short leash beside them -- literally. One of his wrists had been bound by rope to the chair he was sitting in. Though, as he informed his fellow Marauders, this was a illicit attack on his person that was as good as taking his civil liberties as a human being and flushing them down the parliamentary loo, Sirius soon forgave and forgot, settling himself with a thick leather-bound text titled 'Love, Life, and The Physiological Ability Take Part In Both At The Same Time'.

"I'm hungry," Peter mumbled. "Can't we break for a bit of nosh? The books won't go anywhere if we leave for a bit of --"

James let a book cover slam back into place. "We've got to pin this thing down now, Peter. Before something happens and we can't handle it."

"Chin up, my dear fellow," Sirius mumbled airily, still engrossed in his reading. He had picked up the habit of spurting out random bits of encouragement whether the rest of the Marauders asked for it or not.

"But it's like Moony said," Peter continued. He and his other two companions have grown deaf to anything that came out of Sirius's mouth. "None of our symptoms are in any of these curse books."

Remus suddenly shut the text he was searching through. "Maybe . . . Maybe it's not a curse."

"Think out of the box, lad," Sirius cheered his friend on.

"What else could it be?" James asked as he threw a large text at his bound friend. It landed with a crunch on Sirius's right foot. "A genetic phase? A disease? Hell, why couldn't it be a common Hogwartian flu?"

"Flu?" Remus perked up a little, his eyes clearing away the monotony. "Flu? Of course! That's -- that's it!" He jumped out of his seat, stumbled backwards, and trotted on Sirius's already injured foot. "The flu! Wait right here! I've got to get my book from the dorm."

"You've got it, mate." Sirius said through gritted teeth as Remus bolted out of the library. "Um, James, if it's not to much trouble, could you help me to the hospital wing? I believe my right foot has been severely injured. Yes, oh yes, there's Mr. Phalange sticking out of Mr. Right Foot. Could you, James, be so kind and push the bone back into place. If it's not too much--"

"Oh, for the love of God, Sirius," James snapped finally. "Would you shut the hell up?"

"James." Peter gave a little wince. "Sirius is sick. We should be supportive."

"We had Phiona deck you," James muttered as he leaned back in his seat. "Can't I hit Sirius?"

"Excuse me? Um, the bleeding is started to quicken. The hospital wing would --"

"No, you can't hit Sirius." Peter rolled his eyes.

"--would be a lovely place to be and . . . Oh, feeling a bit light headed. Blood loss, you know."

"Just a bit?"

"No hitting, James."

"When you're done with you conversation," Sirius continued to babble, "I think that it would be for the best if I visited the hospital wing. I'll wait here until you can spare the time to . . . . to take me to . . . erm . . ."

For the first time all morning, Sirius Black had seemed to lose his train of thought. He stopped in mid-sentence, a distant look glazing over his expression as he stared right past James and Peter. The other two Marauders blinked several times, suffering from the shock of the sudden silence, then turned to take in what was so interesting. There was only several shelves of books behind them. Books, a large lamp standing in one corner, and a small group of Gryffindor seventh years.

"Oh, my eyes must have gone dead," Sirius murmured to himself, still staring past his friends, "for I see heaven. Tell me, young James, what is that angel's name?"

James raised an eyebrow and glanced around his shoulder again. There was definitely no angels behind him, only a group of seventh years. All five of the senior Hogwartians were sprawled atop a pile of books and parchment; each and every one of them were snoring loudly, the thrills of Athermancy essays all too much for them to handle. Devon Turner was among them. As was Brinker and Gene. And there, easily the loudest snorer of the group, was Phiona Love. She seemed to be hard at work drooling on a large text book.

James snorted thickly, turning back around to face Sirius. "You're not talking about . . . Phinny, are you?"

An entranced look spread over Sirius, giving him the impression that he had just been hypnotized. "Yes. Of course . . . Phiona. Phiona Themos Love. How could I forget? Such beauty . . . Such grace . . ."

This threw both James and Peter back several metres. Neither boy had ever thought of Phiona as a thing of beauty, let alone an angel. She was pretty, or at least as pretty as someone could be when spending half her time fending off Quaffles and Bludgers; but she could never be mistaken for drop-dead gorgeous. And, as far as grace, Phiona was notorious for tripping over her own feet or performing face-plants on the pitch. Sirius must not have been talking about the Phiona who was, at the time, mumbling something about cheese in her sleep as she gave her behind a quick scratch.

"Did my heart love till now? Oh, forswear it sight," Sirius murmured, his eyes misting over thickly as if he had just been put on a heavy aesthetic. "For I never saw true beauty till this night."

"First of all, Pads, it's in the middle of the day," James muttered, smacking his forehead irritably. "And second of all, if you ever quote Shakespeare again, both Wormtail and I will be forced to kill you."

"I'd never thought I'd live to see the day," Peter said, "when I would willingly agree to murder."

"It's that damn curse -- or whatever the hell it is," James replied. "And, truth be told, I'd much rather handle Psychopathic-Pete then Puppy-Love-Sirius right now."

"Psychopathic? Like serial killer psychopa--"

Just as James was about to reply, Remus burst into the library with a thick leather-bound text in his arms.

"I've got it. It's all right here." Remus dropped the book down in front of James and Peter. The text looked like it had gone through hell and back without stopping for souvenirs; it's thick spine was torn in several places and its pages were all heavily stained. The words 'Lycanthropic Ailments' were scrawled across the cover in tight silver letters.

"Lycanthropic?" Peter whispered cautiously. "As in werewolf lycanthropic?"

Remus nodded as he started to flip though the pages. "I got it from an uncle who thought my . . . condition was all pretty humorous. I'd never though I'd -- ah! Here it is."

He pointed to a passage in the book titled 'Interieus Petitloupe'. "It's call Inner-Pup Syndrome. It's a sort of chicken pox for werewolves," Remus explained softly. "It's highly contagious, especially from werewolf to human."

"That flu you had was werewolf chicken pox?" Peter said slowly. "And you gave it to us?"

"In layman's terms, yes," Remus continued. "But Interieus Petitloupe effects humans much differently then lycans. I get a common cold, you get an inner child syndrome. Your subconscious comes out and has a field day with you brain."

"Inner child? Subconscious?" James raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that Peter's inner child is a psychopathic killer?"

"Inner child is more of a figure of speech. Subconscious would be a better term to use." Remus's grey eyes scanned over the page. "Interieus Petitloupe toys with a human's personality by taping into a dormant subconscious. Which means your personality does a three-hundred and sixty degree turn and you become a complete opposite of yourself."

Peter's mouth hung agape, blankly looking as if he had gotten lost several kilometres back. James, however, began to catch on.

"That does all fit." He bit his lower lip in deep thought. "Peter went from our acting pacifist to a crazed lunatic who decked Phiona in the face--"

"Can we please forget about that?" Peter asked meekly, burying his face into the palms of his hands. "Because I'm doing everything in my power to wipe it from every portion of my memory."

"Then James," Remus continued, "Mr. Haughty-Taughty Quidditch Captain, became a nose picking four-year old."

"And now Padfoot goes from a sarcastic arse to emotional commandant," James finished. "And, honestly, I liked him better when he was an arse. Just don't tell him I said that."

"Just as long as Sirius keeps the werewolf fever to himself, I'm sure we'll be fine." Remus shut his book and placed a hand on top of the title. "I've got to translate some of the Latin to figure out how to fully destroy this thing. Until then, we've all got to keep a close watch over . . . Padfoot?"

The three Marauders turned to find Sirius's chair without his bottom placed in it. The rope, which looked as though he had gnawed straight through it, lay folded neatly on the book he had been reading.

About three metres away from the Marauders' book fort, Sirius was walking straight towards the back corner, his eyes firmly locked on the snoring Phiona Love. It took several seconds before James, Remus, and Peter realised where their fourth companion was heading. Swearing under his breath, James made a wild grab for Sirius, catching his shoulder and pulling him backwards.

"Take your hands off of me, you dense ignoramus!" Sirius squealed as James grabbed hold of his friend's arms. "Unhand me! You have no --"

Remus quickly clamped a hand over Sirius's mouth, assuring that no one else in the library would hear the extent of the outburst. Many Hogwartians, however, turned their heads towards the Marauders, wondering what on earth the four boys were up to this time. Even the Gryffindor seventh years had been stirred from their nap, drowsily glancing up to see who had disturbed their Athermancy-induced sleep.

Seeing the immediate danger which followed pissing around with a group of already grumpy seventh years, James started to drag Sirius out by the arms while Remus picked up the legs and Peter covered the mouth.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"But you can't help but feel a bit sorry for him," Peter continued on, taking a large bite out of his chicken noodle soup pie (apparently, the Hogwartian house elves would not be content until they could put every meal in some sort of pie form). "Stuck in the dorm all because of that stupid flu."

"Sirius will be fine, Pete," James said, prodding at his own lunch with an index finger. "We had to tie him to the chair -- didn't want to give him a chance to give the flu to someone else."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about Sirius. I was talking about Remus," Peter looked down the Gryffindor table then shifted his glance across the Great Hall. "Closed in a room with I'm-So-Bloody-Poetic,-Sonnets-Fly-Out-My-Arse Padfoot . . . How can he stand it?"

"Moony does what he can," James commented. "He probably thinks this is all his fault, so he wants to make it all right again before something else happens."

"Oh, don't say that, James." Peter winced. "I don't thick I could handle anything else bad happening."

"It's fine, Pete. We have Remus." James smiled kindly, trying his best to give his timid friend a bit of confidence. "It's all smooth sailing from here on now that we've found -- oh shit . . . Peter, hide! Under the table -- Move!"

Before Peter had any remote idea of what was going on, James put a hand on his companion's forehead and stuffed him under the table. Just as Peter's head disappeared behind the scarlet tablecloth, an irate frizzy-haired seventh year walked up right behind James, her eyes narrowed into dark slits.

"Er . . . Hallo Phinny." James put on an extremely fake grin. "Long time, no --"

"Cut the flying shit, Potter," Phiona Love said. For once in her life she did not look amused. "Where is he?"

James tried his playing dumb card. "Where's who?"

"Prince Bloody Albert in his Freakin' Can," Phiona sneered. "Oh, you know perfectly well who I mean."

"Er . . . Sirius?"

"Try again."

"Remus?"

"That's strike two, Potter. On strike three, I take out my bat and start swinging."

James swallowed, then gave a sheepish smile. He hoped to God that Phiona didn't have any sort of blunt object on her. "Devon?"

"Pettigrew!" Phiona burst, finally tiring of running around in circles. "Where is that little rat? We had some unresolved business to attend to." As if dropping a hint of what this so-called 'business' entailed of, she slowly began to crack her knuckles.

James grimaced slightly, knowing Phiona would mould a Picasso painting out of Peter's face if she ever found him. "I haven't seen him, Phin. Maybe you should check with Sirius or Remus."

Phiona rolled her eyes, fully frustrated. "What the hell is going on around here?!" she called to the heavens. "Is it me? Am I going bloody stark raving mad?!"

"Phiona," started James. "Maybe you should settle--"

"Don't you dare 'Phiona' me!" the enraged witch interrupted. "James, I want to know what's going on around here before I kill someone in a fit of blind rage. It's not common to have Peter Pettigrew exercise his usage of a right hook on my face."

"Er . . ." James wracked his brain quickly. "You wouldn't believe Sirius slipped some Unabridged-Anger Pills into Peter's breakfast yesterday, would you?"

"Not at all." Phiona narrowed her eyes once again. "And it's not just Peter, it's the whole lot of you. First Remus catches a cold which makes him feel like week-old road apples. Then you . . . You of all people, start sucking your thumb, calling out for your mummy--"

James glanced around nervously. "Would you mind keeping it down a bit, Phin?"

"Then, to put a sugar-filled icing on the bloody cake, Pettigrew punches me." Phiona ignored James's request and continued to ramble on. "And, this morning, I could have sworn that Sirius Black was stalking me over at the library."

"You must have dreamt that last one up," James contradicted. "Sirius was never at the library. You know him -- he sleeps in till two and then, even if he gets out of bed during the weekend, he would never go to the library."

"Sorry Jim. I don't usually have dreams about Sirius. And, if I ever did, they would be henceforth referred to as nightmares." Phiona crossed her arms. "I want to know what you're hiding, Potter."

Peter chose this very inopportune moment to let out a little squeak of fear from beneath the table. James gave him a little warning shove with the side of his foot. Thankfully, Phiona was so angry that the sound of a scared refugee underneath the table never reached her ears.

"I'm waiting, Jimmy-Boy."

"Jeez, Phin." James bit his lip. Phiona Love had always been someone whom the Marauders could always place their trust with. She had helped them out of some very tight spots -- including a Hallowe'en Ball which may have turned into Remus's last. But this, whatever it was, was something different. James had no idea what they were dealing with and, even though Phiona was useful in her own strange way, involving her may just make things a bit more complicated. So James stalled. "Even I don't know what's going on, Phinny. Nothing makes sense."

"Try me." Phiona raised an exasperated eyebrow. "Or I'll have to find another way to get answers. For instance, I could hunt Pettigrew down like a dog."

Another suspicious squeak came from underneath the table. James gave another kick to his friend, quite a considerable amount harder then the last time.

"Fine." James took a deep breath. If he told Phiona the extent of what was happening, she may be able to help. She certainly couldn't worsen matters. After what Sirius had turned into, things seemed as though they couldn't possibly get any worse. "That flu that Remus caught was . . . Jesus, Phin, maybe Moony should explain--"

"Is that . . . Yes! Oh, my love, I've waited so long for you to be in my arms!"

Phiona and James slowly turned around, both not believing where the voice had come from. There, swaying in-between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, stood Sirius Black. Remnants of rope which were used to tie him to a chair in the dorm were still hanging on his ripped robes. His blue eyes were misted over completely this time. James now clearly saw how things could get much worse. Damn Murphy.

"Phiona Themos Love . . . Oh, what and angel's name!" Sirius cooed, taking a step towards the frizzy-haired witch. "Come! Let me take you away from here! We can count the stars and watch the sunrise . . . Together!"

Phiona looked as though she was going to vomit. She exchanged a look of utter revulsion with James's look of complete horror. "This better be some half-arse joke," Phiona growled. "And, even if it is, Jim . . . I'm not laughing."

Sirius spread his arms out wide as if expecting Phiona to run to him and receive an embrace. All Phiona gave him was a dry heave of disgust.

"Jim," she mumbled. "I can't take much more of this."

James did not remark, knowing he had to get Sirius out of the Great Hall as soon as possible. He got out of his seat, leaving Peter under the table, and began to walk towards the poignant Marauder. Before he could make a grab for him, though, Sirius bowled over James into order to get to Phiona's side. He flung his arms around her and, before James could do anything in his power to stop his friend, delivered a hard and passionate kiss. Phiona, not expecting any of this, stumbled blindly and tripped over her own feet; she fell backwards, taking the amorous Sirius Black with her.

"Sweet Jesus! Get him out of here, James!"

Remus came bursting through the doors of the Great Hall, looking quite frazzled and rather annoyed. With his help, James was able to pry Sirius away from Phiona, who still lay on the floor; a horrible look of surprise plastered on her face, her mouth parted wordlessly.

Seeing that the frizzy-haired witch was out of commission for the time being, Peter scrambled up from underneath the table to join his friends.

"Remus!" wailed James. "I thought you said you were going to watch him!"

"I did," Remus answered, pulling back on Sirius so he couldn't swoop down on Phiona again. "I was reading and . . . drifted off. And when I woke up, he was - God, this is my fault."

"Let's just . . . just get him out of here," Peter stammered. "The whole school is watching."

Peter had just made the understatement of the century; Sirius's little love fest had captured the attention of every Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin in the Great Hall. All eyes were on the four Marauders.

"Take Pads back to the room - we'll deal with him there," James said in an undertone. Remus and Peter followed his order by dragging the squirming Sirius down the silent hall and through the large, oak doors. When their sickly companion was safely out of harm's way, James gave a little nod and a chuckle to build some sort of illusion with the onlookers then bent down to Phiona's side.

"Phinny?" he said, his eyes glanced around at the tables above them. There was certainly no lack of an audience. "Phin? Could you sit up a bit for me, mate? We got to clean this all up. Phinny?"

Phiona Love sat up slowly, extremely dazed and bemused. All she could manage to utter were three simple words:

"Holy. Fucking. Shit."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Sirius snogging Phinny in front of the entire school . . . How the hell are we suppose to explain this one?"

"We can say Pads tapped into Hagrid's secret cider stash."

"So, you reckon we should say he was drunk out of his mind, then attacked Phinny? Great idea, Peter. While we're at it, why don't we add an illegal gambling ring and first degree manslaughter to that list?"

"I was just trying to -"

"Oh, I'm sure we could add something else to that mess - what about a full membership in the Russian Mafia? Sirius looks like a man who could cement a man's feet and throw them into the Siberian Sea."

"Remus," James placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Peter was just trying to help. Settle down mate."

The young werewolf sat down on his bed, grumbling to himself. James distinctly heard the phrase 'my fault'.

It was several hours after Sirius's little display of affection for Phiona, and the four Marauders were still locked in their dormitory. They had not risked an appearance outside, for fear of another incident like the one before. This had been James's decision, now knowing perfectly well that Murphy's Law never worked for his benefit. Plus, Remus was as high strung about the problem as ever; with several roles of parchment, the text of werewolf aliments, and 'The Latin Book For People Who Can't Read Latin', he was desperate to stomp out Interieus Petitloupe before it hit someone else. Then there was Sirius, who had been hit with a deep sleep as soon as they came back to their room. He was peacefully curled up in one corner of his bed, his arms wrapped around his pillow like a small child holding its teddy bear.

"Anyway, Remus," James gave his friend a little smile. "It's Sirius. He's been known to do worse."

"Yes," Peter chipped in. "Remember the incident with the peanut butter and the girls' loo?"

Remus winced slightly, still flipping through pages of his notes. "How could I ever forget?"

"Everyone will just think this is one of our gags," James said. "No one will think twice about it. They'll just forget about it when one of us pulls something even more stupid."

"I don't think it'll slip Phinny's mind that easily," Remus remarked.

James bit his lower lip, weighing in the total velocity of the Phiona Love factor. "She already knows something's not right on our side of the fence," he murmured. "She was nosing around today at lunch - didn't want to tell her because the less people we have involved with the flu, the better. Though, I think Sirius just gave her another reason to throw herself off a cliff and take us down with her."

"Poor Phiona," Peter said softly. "First me and now Sirius. That kiss will really drop her off the deep end. She's going to kill me first, then use my dead body to beat Sirius with. That kiss -"

James's eyes suddenly when wide as something unexpectedly fell into place. "Oh God," he murmured. "Sneezing, biting, spitting . . . you don't think the fever could be transferred by . . . snogging?"

All eyes fell upon the peaceful Sirius Black, who was still snoozing quietly on the corner of his bed. James exchanged glances with Remus and Peter, then slowly walked over to the foot of Sirius's mattress. Placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, James roughly rolled Sirius off the bed and onto the hard wooden floor in one swift motion. Sirius awoke and immediately took to cursing at the top of his lungs.

"What the hell was that for, Potter?" Sirius wailed. "You get your chuffs by breaking your mate's spine?"

"Yes," replied James flatly, testing how much of the fever had left his companion. "And I also enjoy it immensely when they squeal like little girls as they fall."

Sirius growled, quickly getting to his feet. "Speaking of little girls, you, Potter, are--" Mentally snapping before he finished his insult, Sirius flung himself at James, tackling him to the ground.

There was little flying of fists, for James soon wiggled his way out of the fight and got to his feet next to Remus. There was nothing more refreshing then beating your best mate, but this was neither the time nor the place.

"Was s'matter, Jim?" Sirius stood up, clearly a bit disappointed at his lack of black eyes. "And why're you lot giving me that wonky look all of a sudden?"

"I think," James commented to Remus and Peter as the forth Marauder began to give his behind a little scratch, "that Padfoot is back to normal."

"Normal, eh?" Sirius raised a bemused eyebrow. "Normal compared to what?"

"Normal compared to this morning," Remus replied flatly. "When you were reciting Shakespeare and hugging trees."

"Reciting Who-speare?" Sirius frowned. "What the bloody hell are you going on about?"

"You caught the werewolf fever, Pads. That's what we've all been catching." James sighed. "Got it when Peter spat on you last night. It turned you into an emotional mess, it did."

"Lovely," Sirius plopped down on the foot of James's bed, rubbing his face irritably. "Couldn't have made a complete fool out of myself, though. I mean, nothing can compare to what Peter did the other night. Right? Mates?" he grimaced off the worried expressions on his friends' faces. "Oh sweet Jesus, I hate that look. That look only means I did something I'm going to regret for the rest of my cursed life . . . so then, have at me. Who did I slobber all over?"

"Slobber, strangely enough, would be the right choice of words to use in this situation," Remus mumbled as his eyes bounced back down to the Latin text in front of him.

"Well then, Pads." James rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Remember . . . remember Moony and I had a bit of a go at your strange dreaming habits the other day? Erm . . . let's just say that, if we weren't mixed up with this fever business, we'd have a bit more material to hang over your head."

Sirius's eyes became the size of dinner plates. The Marauder wasn't known to blush, but, at that point in the conversation, James reckoned he was damn well as close as he'd ever gotten. "I . . . I couldn't have. . . I didn't . . . not to Phinny?"

"Apparently," Remus sniffed, "your inner child wanted to have Phinny right there on the bloody table."

"Sussed her down like an animal in heat, mate." James shrugged, not doing the best of jobs breaking this lightly to his friend. "You kissed her in front of everyone down in the Great Hall. We tried to stop you, Pads, but . . ."

Sirius couldn't hear the rest of James's speech. Something had fried in the back of his brain and now all he could picture was the face of Phiona Love. Admittedly, he had wanted to take the very action he had so forcefully gone through with - but it wasn't suppose to be like today, when he was under the influence of a nasty werewolf induced sickness. Now. . . now there was no chance of getting closer to Phiona. Of course, there was a great chance that he would get closer with Madam Pomfrey, because the frizzy-haired witch would most certainly give Sirius a reason to spend the rest of his sixth year in the hospital wing.

". . . and now you gave this 'Interieus Petitloupe' to Phin," James finished. "Unless you snogged someone before you got to her."

"Thanks, Jim. Make me feel even better about myself," Sirius snapped back irritably. "Phin has this wonky fever because of me. Oh, wank it . . . she's never going to talk to me again! Moony . . . Remus, mate - tell me you found a cure."

"Almost." Remus bent back over his book. "Give me a few more minutes and I'll have it."

"Minutes? Try bloody seconds." Sirius ran a nervous hair through his overgrown hair. "Phinny might be on a rampage right now. She'll be off her onion and giving the fever to someone else - and we'll never catch it from there."

"I doubt Phin's going to do much rampaging," James remarked, taking a seat next to Sirius. "Werewolf fever will give her a personality like . . . erm . . . Peter. No offence, Pete."

"Erm . . ." Peter blinked slowly. "None taken?"

"She'll be a calm, quiet, and courteous little lamby-poo," James said with a bit of a grin. "The exact opposite of her normal personality. Don't have a hissy, Pads - this will be cake compared to what we went through with you and Peter."

"This isn't some half-arse sissy virus, though," Sirius grumbled. "It goes for the bloody bollocks, this one does. Screws with your brain and turns the right screws just to cause trouble. I mean, do you think I would ever ever do that to Phinny otherwise?"

"With the right amount of liquor in your blood, yes. I'd think you'd absolutely leap on the situation." James dodged Sirius's right hook by jumping off the bed.

"I think Sirius may be right about this fever," Remus put in. "The erm, lamby-poo route's not going to get the required results to transfer Interieus Petitloupe to someone else. It needs its host to be a bit more aggressive to get the job done." He paused for a moment, thinking quickly. "What's the first thing you think of when you hear the name 'Phiona Love'?"

"'Manslaughter', oddly enough," Peter replied bitterly. "My own, if you want to get a bit more particular."

"Erm . . . Don't know. Quidditch?" James shrugged, then shot a mischievous glance at Sirius. "Well, at least we all know what Padfoot thinks about when it comes to all things Phinny."

"I'll kill you right here, Potter--"

"Oh Sirius. You poor diluted fool." James grinned wickedly. "You realize I'm going to hold that kiss over your head for all of eternity, don't you?"

"Potter--"

"One question, though. I mean honestly . . . Phinny? She's a nice enough bird, but definitely not the catch of the week. There's hundreds of good-looking girls out there -- Don't put it past me, though. Love Phinny like a sister, but there are apes more lady-like then -"

"Not the time nor the place, gentlemen." Remus had to force Sirius back down into a sitting position before the irritable Marauder strangled James to death. "Werewolf fever, remember? As it gets stronger, the way it affects people will get stronger as well. Phiona's the forth person down its line." He bit his lower lip and shuffled through some Latin. "She's going to turn into something that's hated and feared."

"The only thing I hate at the moment is James," Sirius scoffed, "and, of course, the Slytherins."

"Sort of a requirement, isn't it?" Peter grimaced. "I think every Gryffindor hates the Slytherins."

"Especially Phi--" James's eyes went wide. "Oh God, Remus . . . you don't think Phinny's become . . ."

"A Slytherin," Sirius finished flatly. "One bad-arse Slytherin of the Dark Arts."

~*************~