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

95. Turtleneck Hickey

Summer-despite being in Scotland- was rather warm. Well, in Remus' opinion it was.

Remus was known to don a ghastly sun-faded tee-shirt every year. He was also known to wear this shirt every available day that was humanely possible.

So, it came to great surprise that Remus came down to the Great Hall –with no awful shirt- on one of the hottest days of summer that year.

"What's with the turtleneck, Lupin?" James asked, barely looking up from the Daily Prophet he was reading. Two more unexplained deaths, seven missing –assumed dead- and a couple of wizards wanted to report to the Auror office for questioning.

"I've got a cold, Potter." Remus replied stiffly, and then coughed for authenticity.

"Bullshit, Moony." James retorted. "You sung an entire Queen album yesterday with Sirius. Sick people don't do that."

"It's true." Remus sounded like he was pleading.

"Take the 'neck off." James said, his mouth full of cereal, pulling at the canary yellow turtleneck.

"No." Remus said, getting rather defensive.

"It's boiling in here. I was this close" he pinched his fingers together. "to coming down here in no shirt at all, though I didn't want Evans to start swooning right now."

"She wouldn't swoon over you, James!" Sirius teased.

"Fine, leave the disgusting turtleneck on then." James sighed, looking rather disheartened and trying to hide an enormous smirk on his face. "Accio turtleneck."

Then, as if an excessive amount of butter had been placed between Remus' skin and the knitted garment, the horrible turtle neck slipped right off and landed in James' lap.

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That thing." James said bluntly.

"What thing?" Remus said.

"On your neck."

"It's a bruise…" Remus said darkly. "From my furry little problem."

"Bull!" Cried James. "That, my darling Remus, is a hickey."

"It's a bruise."

"It's a hickey." James said indignantly. "Who gave it to you?"

"No one," Muttered Remus, his face growing redder by the second.

"No one gave you a hickey the size of Texas?" James raised his brow.

"Yep, well I-er- gave it to myself." Remus shrugged.

"Not possible." James said in disbelief. "You wouldn't be able to get your mouth to the nape of your neck like that."

"There are spells for that." Remus said confidently, although he had no idea if such spells existed.

James recoiled back into his seat and dropped the turtleneck within half a second and shuddered.