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

111. In Which Lily Tells A Lie Or A Truth

She said at their wedding that she had always loved him.

She said that even when she hated him, even when he was being a heartless and selfish prat, she loved him. Any person with an average intelligence would quickly be able to see through her lie. She went out of her way to describe her hatred for James Potter. She went through every thesaurus and dictionary she could find. She tried to find synonyms for "obnoxious" (invidious, abhorrent, pestiferous, ornery and repugnant) and "arrogant" (autocratic, uppity, vain, egotistic, and contemptuous). She also scanned dictionaries and encyclopaedias for a definition or an explanation for someone that you couldn't stand to be within a ten meter radius for three minutes and; for the same someone that made you sick to your stomach in a pleasant sort of way. He'd give her these fluttery sort of things that made her light headed and like she'd just slipped off a cliff and still waiting for the fear of plunging to her two hundred foot death to kick into life. She was convinced he had somehow jinxed or hexed her. She even went through a medical textbook, convinced she had a neurological disease that was making her act like this.

He hated her and she hated him.

Maybe it wasn't always a lie; maybe she just loved him violently. That's the same definition for hate, or at least Lily liked to think so.

Chapter 111, it's really fun to type. Not the chapter content, just "chapter 111" though this chapter was fun to write. Took me four minutes, I think. Or how long it takes to listen to "Madness" by Muse. I think this was meant to be in my other fic that I'm writing about James and Lily. It's going right in there... now. Now I'm sleepy. I'll go write more about James and Lily punching each other up. It's violent love. OR: It's violent, love. The latter option seems a lot nicer and less scary.