Remus loved Sirius' hands.
Hands that would sneak around Remus in the dead of night while the others were asleep, hands that quaked with excitement as they explored the contours of Remus' body for the first time, hands that received the stifled moans they enticed out of the young werewolf. Hands that threaded their way through Remus' hair when they first kissed, that traced the outline of Remus' body in the sliver of moonlight that got through the thick curtains that surrounded their bed. Hands that made love to Remus when no one else would.
The hands that held Remus close after the monthly pain of transformation, hands that held on as Remus shook with the exhaustion and humiliation, held on when the wrenching sobs of a broken boy lay in his arms. Hands that held his for comfort, when a war was raging outside their door, forcing its way in. He loved the hands that protected him for the dark.
Hands that moved excitedly and erratically in the air when he and James were on the brink of a discovery, hands that clutched the wound on his head as he escaped from his hell, with the shrieks of a deranged mother screaming 'blood traitor' behind him, hands that begged at the knees of his lover for forgiveness, after the first act of betrayal.
Remus love Sirius' hands.
Hands that held all the dignity and grace that the heir of the most noble and ancient house of Black should possess. Hands that were as beautiful and as dangerous as their owner, hands that could commit terrible deeds and hands that could show tremendous love. Hands that held Remus' reason for existence, hands that could easily crush and protect him at the same time.
Hands that meant too much to Remus, hands that he placed too much trust in, hands that he loved too deeply, that he cared too strongly for. Hands that became part of him, hands that he placed at the centre of his life and all that he wanted his life to be. Hands that he should have known better
Hands that in the end could only hurt him, that would have to eventually destroy him. Hands that could only betray him, hands that only knew how to devastate. Remus should have known what the hands would do to him; they did it all people that they loved.
Remus hated the hands that broke him. Hated that he couldn't see what they really were, hated that he would always love them, hated that if he found them at his door again, begging for forgiveness, that Remus would have to forgive him. Hated that he still loved them.
