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

96. Pressure

"Moony, plea-"

"No."

"What if I said I loved yo-"

"No."

"What if I said there was chocolate involve-"

"No."

"What if I said I knew what you were doing last Thursday nigh-"

"No."

"Please?"

"No, Sirius."

"What if I told you that I'll break up with you if you didn't?"

"Good luck with that."

"If you don't, I'll get Evans to-"

"She'd never agree."

"Why in the name of Merlin won't yo-"

"SIRIUS BLACK, I WILL NOT '69' WITH YOU. I do not want to and I will not engage in that."

"Good luck with that."

Because its the 96th chapter, and the 69th was about 96 and yada yada yada. I could have done this better, I should have done this better, but alas, I was about to update something else, then I realised I needed more sex things in the 96th chapter.

I couldn't write this if they were actually 69ing, too scary for my virgin eyes to see and my frigid fingers to type.

If you do wish to write them 69ing to replace this drabble, feel free to do so.