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

119. Elementary, My Dear James

"I can't believe that you convinced me to have sex in that broom cupboard again." Grumbled Remus, furious at his own trait and fraction of his personality that was downright gullible. "Someone could have easily heard us or worse."

"What could be worse?" Grinned Sirius, completely unsure as how having intercourse in public could have negative consequences.

"They could have walked in on us!" Whispered a horrified Remus.

"Nah," He shrugged.

The two walk on to find themselves in the common room.

Perched on the edge of the loveseat Lily was reading in, James fleetingly looked up at the two stumbling into the room.

"They had sex again." James whispered.

"HOW DID HE KNOW?" Gasped Sirius whilst Remus stood behind him, mortified.

"Remus's jumper is on back to front."

You are Sherlock, James. I have instagram now. You should follow me so we can become best friends. I'm cardea_fletcher on it, by the way.