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

108. Getting Laid

"If getting laid is another word for doing the full monty or having sex, do chickens still lay eggs?" Sirius pondered, feeling like the leader of a major deity.

"No." Remus and Lily replied. They both sounded ashamed, it wasn't clear who was more embarrassed; Remus for loving this idiot or Lily, who chose to hang around him.

"Think about it." Sirius chortled. "Eggs get laid once then they're cooked and eaten for breakfast. It's a metaphor for life."

"Get shagged once then you get eaten?" Lily asked.

"No, the idea is that you only get one shot at being happy, once that's gone there's nothing left to live for. That's why you need to stay near the nest where you first got laid, you may never get laid again, but nests are warm and cosy and are home. It's a hell of a lot better than giving up on everything and being in a carton with eleven other idiots like you in some fridge. Or even being stupider and aspiring for a better nest. You're stuck with one nest, morons. Didn't you get that from what I said?"

"No." Remus reassured. "I'm confiscating the books I gave you about philosophy."

I'm meant to be revising for exams. I am beyond giving a damn about anything. I'm sick of everything. I just realised why I've been so particularly depressed today, it's Halloween. James and Lily have been dead for 32 years. Sorry for the awful punctuation in this one.