Standing where Sirius previously stood was The Grim, an enormous, black canine that forebode death, one of the worst omens in the Wizarding World. Remus breathed in shakily, both in despair and in awe. He lowered himself onto his knees and held out his hands, reaching for his friend and stopping inches away from the young Black. Remus waited for Sirius to approach him. Sirius complied and rested his head on Remus's palms.
Remus was transfixed by those striking gray eyes - a misty silver against black, like the celestial stars that illuminated the heavens at twilight. Sirius yelped, jumping into Remus's arms and licking his face. Remus chuckled and enveloped his friend in a warm hug, affectionately caressing the dog and feeling the ebony curls between his fingers.
When Sirius transformed back into a man, Remus leaned back, intending to stand and retreat a few steps back, but Sirius placed his large palms over Remus's, keeping Remus in place, and nuzzled into the other's hands with his cheek.
"You're beautiful," Remus whispered, grazing his thumb against Sirius's cheek. "Your animagus is beautiful."
Remus wondered if he was cursed now, doomed to a fate of ill fortune now that he had caught a glimpse of The Grim and gazed into its eyes, embedding it in his memory forever. Had he entered imprisonment willingly and remained willingly though no walls bound him in place?
And Sirius? Had he been cursed too?
Was he like Remus, who was driven mad by infection every month? Had fate cursed them both to become wild and sinister beasts of the night for as long as they were among the living?