When Sirius stepped back, chuckling to himself, a fold of the turban slipped down over Remus's eyebrow rakishly. The new scarf smelled much more strongly of Sirius. If the other one was incentive to insanity this new smell, the fresh and muddy and musky smell of it drifting down the few inches to wreath his nose and his face, to stay in his hair, he was sure, for full days, if he wasn't lucky (or was) he would still smell it at the full moon--
--this was purest unadulterated madness.
Remus laughed.
"Damn," said Sirius suddenly, laughing with him, "the only Maharajah werewolf in Hogwarts and me without a camera."
--this was purest unadulterated madness.
Remus laughed.
"Damn," said Sirius suddenly, laughing with him, "the only Maharajah werewolf in Hogwarts and me without a camera."