The Three Days Of The Hiccups

'Has it happened yet?'

A slight shake of the head, followed by incoherent mumbling. Intelligibility wasn't really an option here, not if he wanted to live a tiny bit longer. Still, Sirius fumed, one would think if someone had just spent two whole days in the infirmary and had returned only now, that the first words out of said person's mouth would be something along the lines of 'hey there, mates, what have I missed?'. But not Remus Lupin, oh no, *he* only cared about his own arse. Egoistic, self-centred prick.

The prick in question moved away from the door and over to his bed. Peter jumped aside.

Caution - werewolf at large.

'You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you've timed it like this on purpose.'

Caution - suicidal maniac on the loose.

Remus turned around painstakingly slow. He did not scowl. In fact, he was smiling.

Today's special - rat stew a la Mooný.

Peter fled.

He should have known better, James thought. No really, he should have. There was no need for him to risk his own head by attempting to appease Remus - which wouldn't work, anyway. He wasn't cold-hearted or anything, it was just that he valued his life. If Peter was that reckless, he'd have to face the music alone.

He really should have known better, James mused again. There was no way he could claim ignorance. Remus had always been cranky so closely after after a transformation. Peter had lit the fire and James did well to keep his fingers away from the flames lest they burn him. Once burnt, twice shy, after all. In fact, beating a strategic retreat at this point actually seemed quite attractive a plan. It required some subtle manoeuvring on his part, however.

Gazing around inconspicuously, James shifted on his bed and edged three or four nanometres towards the exit.

Sirius pinned him with a glare. 'I know what you're planning,' his eyes said, 'if you desert me here, we're-'

'Hic.'

James bolted for the door. He was gone before anyone could do so much as blink.

Suddenly it was Sirius who was pinned down by a glare. He raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

'If I could stop-hic-you know I would. Hic.'

Remus sighed inwardly. So much was true. Even if he wasn't in the mood for rational thought or behaviour he really shouldn't perforate Sirius for something he had no control over and which nothing could alleviate.

'Hic.'

They had tried everything...

*'Ready? Okay, here he comes.'

'Buuuuuuuuuh!'

'Huuuuuaaaaa!'

'Ouuuuhuuuuu!'

Three pairs of eyes stared expectantly.

'Hic.'*

...that had been in their first year. On Sirius' First Day Of The Hiccups. They hadn't given up, then. Instead, they had attempted to frighten him at every possible moment, even going so far as hiding beneath old McGonagall's desk to spring the surprise on him when he was passing by.

McGonagall had almost hexed them in her fright.

Sirius' reaction? - 'Hic.'

The hiccough went away on its own volition two days later.

The following year they had commenced anew and Sirius had confessed that he suffered from this every year in the week before Thanksgiving.

They had tried again. McGonagall finally had given them detention.

In their third year, they had come prepared...

*'Here, drink a glass of water.'

'Hic.'

'Na, best remedy is holding your breath!'

A few seconds passed before-

'Hic.'

'Try thinking of three bald men-what? It works for me.'

'Hic.'*

...fourth year had come and James had had a brilliant revelation. Might have been that they themselves simply weren't frightening enough!

When eventually they had forced the Bogart into Sirius' trunk, James was as white as a sheet, Remus' forehead was covered with cold perspiration, and Peter was shaking. Still, they had achieved their goal; and this time, they had been certain, this time it would work!

*'Aaaaaaah-hic-aaaaaaah!'

James stared. 'I hate him.'

Peter simply nodded.*

Remus had always assumed, and rightly so, that-excluding his own condition-Madam Pomfrey had a cure for everything. In fifth year, he was mightily disappointed.

*'Hic.'*

No potion, spell, charm, curse, salve, balm or kind word had helped.

'Well, look on the bright side of it,' James had remarked afterwards, 'you're a medical phenomenon.'

Remus, ever willing to learn, had put down the following observation in his journal: 'note to self, a hiccough-even one that last for three days-does not impede the victim in the slightest when said victim wants to do severe bodily harm to their best friend.'

When his sixth Thanksgiving at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had drawn nearer and nearer, Sirius, unbeknownst to his friends, had devised his own plan. Before the first 'hic' could escape him he had changed into Padfoot.

It was the first time that any of them had heard a dog hiccough. Remus hadn't been sure if this was biological even possible. He hadn't thought so but had refrained from pointing it out-which, if truth be told, had largely been due to the fact that a big black growling (and hiccuping) beast had been lying by his feet.

They had given up then. Sirius had long been banned from going to a public place if it wasn't strictly necessary; Madam Pince had been very firm about his not entering her library during these three days. Thus he spent most of his time in their dorm and James, Peter and Remus spent most of their time somewhere else. In the night they put up silencing charms around his bed.

'Well, hic, why haven't you left, hic, already?' Sirius muttered dejectedly.

Remus was too tired to do so. He shook his head but Sirius didn't seem to notice.

'Go on, hic, desert me.'

Excellent idea, Remus thought, but instead he got up, walked over to Sirius' bed and plopped down beside him.

'Hic,' Sirius said.

Just why did I do this, the werewolf berated himself, now he'll expect me to stay with him for at least a while. He stopped, then decided to castigate himself. It really wasn't nice of him to think like this. The very least he could do for his friend was staying and trying to distract him.

So could James and Peter.

Egoistic, self-centred pricks.

He gazed apologetically at Sirius.

'Why don't we try again? Maybe, we've missed something.'

Sirius snorted. 'I'm neither thirsty nor in the mood for asphyxiation. And you lot have never once managed to frighten me!'

'The Bog-'

'Did it work?' Sirius bit out. 'No, it did not! Leave me alone, Remus.'

Remus wondered when the roles had reversed themselves and Sirius had become the snappy one.

Well, he mused, it *is* that time of the year.

'Hic.'

He dared a quick peep at his *friend*. His *friend* glared back. The wheels in Remus' head began to turn. Perhaps...

And even if it didn't get rid of the hiccough, it was a pleasant distraction nonetheless.

Sirius almost fell off his bed when soft lips pressed against his own. Remus never-well, not so close after-he was much too grumpy then.

Oh, to hell with it! He kissed back with ferocity.

It might have lasted for seconds or hours, days or years, Sirius couldn't tell, didn't care, either way. All he cared about were these soft lips, the teasing tongue, the taste of tea and Remus, who tasted like tea more often than not, the hairs from Remus' fringe, which tickled his nose, and these lips, these lips.

...

James and Peter returned shortly before curfew. The curtains around Sirius' bed were drawn. Remus was nowhere in sight.

'Hic.'

James sighed. 'Poor Padfoot.'

'What about me?' Sirius asked upon leaving the bathroom.

James looked dumbfounded.

'You're-'

'-cured?' Sirius grinned.

A growl came from Sirius' bed. 'Yes, and I'll kill him-hic-for it!'