A Literal Scrapbook

by Claire Whitmore

A scrapbook is messy, it's full of everything, an essence of what was. It has the smiles, the sadness and the moments when you laugh for no good reason and just want to be with someone loved. This is the Marauder's scrapbook, literally. It's a big bundle of warm fuzzy blankets, cheap wine and the comic section of the paper on a rainy day, just in the form of drabbles. R/S and J/L

81. Not Sick

"I'm not sick!" Sirius protested, snuffling with a red nose.

"You were up all night coughing!" Remus cried.

"You kept us all up!" Peter added.

"And you started babbling about garbage." James sighed. "You said that I had the ego of a buffalo, that Peter needed to eat more because he was underweight and-"

"And then you said I was straight!" Remus laughed.

"If I'm sick that means I don't get to go on the full moon. I'm well." Sirius insisted.

"You've got a fever, otherwise you wouldn't be in your bloody underwear in the corridors in January, you just sneezed and you can barely open your eyes." Remus stated.

"I refuse to believe you."

"I'm taking you up to bed this instant," Sirius's face lit up. "no, not like that. Peter will go get you some soup, James will heat up a hot water bottle. You're having a nap. Then we'll talk about you being able to come to the full moon tomorrow."

Sirius, led by Remus' hand stumped back up to the dormitory mumbling about how Remus shouldn't parent him.