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Sirius Black had never had lice before Azkaban. By definition lice are either of two small wingless parasitic insects that live on the skin of mammals and birds, and Sirius, as a prisoner in a dirty, cramped cell, who also happened to be a dog animagus, turned out to be extremely susceptible to them.
They were one of the worst things about Azkaban, only trumped by the dementors that wanted to suck his soul out of his body. Sirius knew that the moment he got out of Azkaban, one of the first things he would do would be to de-lice.
However, when he finally made his miracle escape, he had more pressing matters to attend to, like murdering Peter Pettigrew, who he had seen in the Daily Prophet with the youngest Weasley son. As well as this, he desperately wanted to see his godson, as the wizards who visited Azkaban were surprisingly not willing to give him information about the boy whose parents he had supposedly gotten murdered.
For this, he needed Remus.
He supposed they weren’t in a relationship anymore; 12 years in Azkaban for the muder of three of their best friends and a few muggles would do that to you. Despite this, Remus, kind, patient, trustworthy Remus, heard him out. Mind you, he did have his wand pressed to Sirius’ throat the entire story, but he still listened.
And he believed him.
Suddenly, the lice didn’t matter anymore as he and Remus plotted and planned how to get to Pettigrew without arousing any suspicion that Remus was harbouring the fugitive. In fact, Sirius had forgotten he had lice at all, having grown accustomed to the near constant scratching on his scalp anyways.
It wasn’t until he was safely inside Grimmauld Place with Remus and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix after escaping Hogwarts on Buckbeak that Sirius remembered his lice.
“Remus, I need some help.” Sirius said, flopping over the other man's lap as he sat comfortably on one of the velvet green sofas, reading a book on rare defence spells.
He and Remus weren’t officially together, but they had quickly fallen back into their pre-Azkaban ways; the frequent touches, the pining stares, the hugs that lasted a second too long. Whenever Sirius found himself in trouble, he always went straight to Remus.
“What have you done?” Remus asked, immediately suspicious.
“I have lice.”
“You fucking what?”
They sat in silence for a few seconds before Sirius offered a meek grin. Remus pushed him off of the sofa.
“I need you to help me get rid of them.” Sirius whined.
Remus rolled his eyes before grabbing Sirius' hand and leading him to one of the many bathrooms Grimmauld Place had, muttering about how a certain lice-riddled mutt had probably given him lice too.
There, of course, a spell for delousing, however it required one's hair to be wet. Remus filled up a jug he found in one of the bathroom cabinets and dunked it over Sirius’ head.
“That’s for most likely giving me lice.” He said, refilling the jug up and pouring it gently over his own hair.
“You bitch!” Sirius exclaimed, wringing out his soaked hair in the efforts to stop it from dripping all over his clothes.
“De alio pediculum,” Remus cast, waving his wand over both his and Sirius’ hair.
A few dead lice dropped off of Remus’ head and onto the floor, but Sirius practically had a lice army falling from his scalp. The two men blinked at each other.
“I’m not cleaning up your dead lice.” Remus said, quickly casting a drying charm on his own hair before leaving the bathroom.
Sirius huffed, casting a banishing charm on the lice before scurrying after the werewolf.
Remus had moved into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. The kitchen was mostly abandoned apart from Tonks who was sat at the long wooden table, drawing a mustache on the photo of Fudge that adorned the front page of the Daily Prophet.
“Wotcher, Sirius! Why’s your hair wet?” Tonks greeted him, looking up from her artwork.
Remus shot Sirius a warning look. Sirius grinned.
“Dear Remus and I had lice! Most people find it gross, but I think it’s romantic that we had it at the same time.”
Silence fell over the room.
“You’re fucking disguting.” Tonks said, looking positively green, before proceeding to run out of the kitchen.
“I hate you.” Remus glared.
“You love me.”
“Maybe.”