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

110. Guessing

Sirius leaned close to Lily, he could see her thick eyelashes that were trapped in the sunlight. If Sirius were heterosexual this would be considered a felony and filed under sexual harassment, however, he was as straight as a banana. It was only a little bit more reassuring to know that if there was any intention to this it would only be for joke and entertainment purposes. On a second thought, this still bordered on sexual harassment.

"Guess where this finger has been." Said Sirius, his voice was low as he presented his right index finger in front of Lily.

"I'd rather not." Lily made a face. "I don't want to be tainted for life."

Sirius began to cackle and he popped his whole fist into his mouth. "Idantknewhartchouwerefinkino f. Getchaedottaguttah."

"Excuse me?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you were thinking of; get your mind out of the gutter." He began to laugh hysterically again. "And they say I'm a pervert."

Lily's mouth hung open in pure shock.

"I'll be warning James about you."

Aaannnd we're back to short drabbles again instead of the paving slabs I've left you all to decipher for the past a billion updates. Yet another fanfic where I've planned to do awesome stuff but lack the amount of amazing required so they're transferred to fanfics. Anyone know how to play "Girl With One Eye" on a ukulele?