Author's Note: I was bored and thinking about the Marauders and I thought of this. It's my first try at funnies so any advice would be welcomed! Also, this is the first of my fics to have a title from an Ani Difranco song :D The title kinda relates to the fic because that's how James is feeling at the end of the fic.
A not-so-vague Disclaimer: I own nothing, JK Rowling created the Potterverse, I'm just borrowing her characters. Should she want to, I give her full permission to use this stuff (though if she's doing that, I worry for the tradition of the writted word). Oh, I reference the Balrog in Lord of the Rings and quote Buffy the Vampire Slayer (sorry, that's just how I normally speak); I don't own them either.
"Prongsie, I think I'm dying," Sirius said thickly as he blew his nose noisily for what seemed like the fifth time in as many seconds and tossed the tissue on the floor next to his bed.
"That really is disgusting, Sirius." Remus supplied from the bed on the other side of the room. "Just because you have a cold doesn't mean that you can't put your snotty tissues in the bin." At that, Sirius broke into hacking coughs.
"Moony, you were always a good friend to me; go and get me a girl." Sirius said when they subsided.
"Pads, mate, in your current state I doubt even the easiest Hufflepuff would be willing to play nursemaid with you."James said, his glasses crooked and one hand tangled in his hair as he tried to write an essay for Muggle Studies.
"'s not for that. I need to have one last hurrah. One last time."
"You're creepy when you're ill." James looked at him as if still bemused at what his friend could come out with. "If you want sympathetic females then go to the Hospital Wing."
"D'you think Lily would come up?" Sirius asked.
"Do I really want to know what you think would happen if she did?" James answered, his voice becoming rather strangled.
"P'raps whatever I have is contagious and she'll catch it. And then we'll die in each other's arms." What was scary was that Sirius was probably serious.
"And where would I be while you're both dying."
"Dunno. But we'd be in a garret in Paris and we'd both be coughing up blood and gasping for breath as we kissed."
"Are you adding a blood fetish to the already valid list of reasons for mothers to keep their daughters away from you?" Remus asked.
"It's not a fetish." Sirius argued. "I just think that, if I have to die of whatever this disease is- and it's probably the consumption! I would like to have a girl with me. And if that girl happened to be coughing up blood, I would accept it."
"So in your little world Lily will walk in, sees that you have consumption- and on a side note, who says consumption anymore? Have you been talking to your parents or something?- she sees that you have TB and she immediately falls in love with you, forgetting about me- the love of her life, you both go to Paris as your lungs rot further and you die together." James wasn't sure whether he should laugh at Sirius or worry at his fantasies about his girlfriend.
"Pretty much. But there'd more confrontation." Sirius looked thoughtful… Or as thoughtful as a person could look with a tissue stuffed up their nose.
"So I'd fight for Lily?" James had given up on his essay.
"Of course! You'd be very masculine in your impotent rage. Well, as masculine as you can get. Which, given that you write poetry, isn't very."
"I'd forgotten about the poetry!" Remus laughed. Peter, who had been sitting on his bed eating and nervously following the conversations drew himself up as if to recite.
"My Lily petal,
My springtime flower.
A voice that echoes on metal
And haunts me for hours.
With hair of flame
And eyes of leaf
Try to look for what's underneath." He recited the poem word-for-word and Sirius and Remus laughed.
"We were in the fourth year!" James tried to defend himself.
"And you recited it on her birthday." Remus said.
"At breakfast," Peter supplied.
"And the whole hall went silent while you thought that you were being really romantic. And she thought that you were creating a diversion for me to do something… Come to think of it, we really should have planned something." Sirius said thoughtfully, taking a sip of orange juice before coughing again.
"So, back to Padfoot's fantasies." Remus changed the subject, knowing that when Sirius was looking thoughtful, plans were about to be formed, and Sirius' plans almost always involved hexes, handcuffs, superglue or alcohol, or any combination of the four.
"So you'd try to fight me, but the killing curse you'd send my way would backfire and hit you, and you'd plummet to your death." Sirius started.
"Plummet to my death? Where exactly would we be, next to the pit of the balrog?" James interrupted.
"No, we'd be at the top of the Astronomy Tower." Sirius said patiently, as if explaining to a child.
"Of course, because when you and Lily fell in love, despite your lung-eating infection you'd run to the Astronomy Tower, y'know, on your way to Paris."
"Well you decided the location." Sirius argued. James stared at him.
"This is your fantasy! When exactly did I tell you that, in this hypothetical situation, I would want you to go to the Astronomy Tower?" James was almost shouting.
"You challenged me to a duel, gauntlets were thrown, I swore to Lily that I would try and reason with you but you were unreasonable."
"I-you-duel?" James was actually dizzy.
"So, D'you reckon Lily will bring me hot Lemon when she comes up?" Sirius asked, seriously.