maraudersmessrs:

ginniewheezie:

maraudersmessrs:

warmhappycat:

maraudersmessrs:

warmhappycat:

maraudersmessrs:

Imagine Sirius finds his first silver hair (because he’s too glamorous to go simply gray) and throws a fit; bemoans the oncoming withering of his youthful charm. And Remus just sort of watches the theatrics with a slight smile until Sirius catches his eye and stops and looks, really looks at him. At his already silvered temples, his hair heavily threaded with gray. The faint, embedded pain lines at the edges of his mouth, the spray of crinkles from the corners of his young eyes, the permanent dark circles underneath them.

And he flushes a bit with shame and takes Remus’ face in his hands and says, quietly, “Sorry.” Remus just looks up at him, still smiling a bit and shakes his head.

Sirius runs his thumb up his cheek, over his scars, over his premature lines, the soft skin under his eye. He says, with great dignity, “I think it’s…distinguished.”

And Remus breaks into a wide grin and says, “You’re so full of shit.”

How dare you make me feel these feelings in public!

Then you definitely don’t want to imagine how, after Sirius returns from Azkaban, Remus reaches out a slow, uncertain hand and traces it down the side of Sirius’ face the first time they’re alone, taking in the anguish lines, the hollows of his eyes, the silver shots through his unkempt hair, the physical and spiritual scars from 12 years, alone. And he says, hoarsely, “Very distinguished,” around the lump in his throat. And Sirius somehow manages a ghost of a smile and puts his thin hand over Remus and says, “Full of shit.”

Yeah you’re right I definitely didn’t want to think about that.

Well, crap…then, think about a timeline where they get to grow old together and Remus goes silvery white all over and Sirius has silver in very fashionable, wide streaks through his long hair and neatly trimmed beard. And they both have deep laugh lines and crows feet and every horror in their past is hazed by decades of warmth and good living. They still have scars, but now Sirius can run his fingers over them without Remus flinching away and Remus can tug sharply at Sirius’ mustache when he gets too distant and it’s one afternoon after they’ve sat with their several handfuls of dogs for a Christmas card photo in front of their cozy sitting room fire that they both look at the result with absolutely enormous satisfaction and Sirius says, “Finally, we are officially–”

And they meet each others eyes and both grin and say in the most posh and mocking of accents, “Distinguished.”

Definitely don’t think about Remus’ fur falling out, leaving knotted patches here and there all over his body.

Don’t think how Sirius’ muzzle getting those little white hairs around his nose and mouth, and not being able to run at top speed anymore without his hips stiffening up.

Don’t think about the day when Sirius no longer has the energy to transform anymore, leaving Remus to painfully transform alone for the rest of his life.

Making me feel things on my own post?? How very dare you!

oh honey by the time sirius cant transform anymore remus will definitely be too old to even survive his own transformation