The afternoon drags on, slow and hazy, as if the day has accomplished every point on its to-do list hectically that morning and is taking a well deserved nap. Wispy grey clouds toss and turn in their dreams, spreading out and curling in accordance to the mood of their fantasies. The Sun dutifully stays awake and decides to smile winningly down at a small insignificant lake of Scotland, its surrounding companions dazed by its brightness. It is by this lake, so charmingly grinned upon, under a proud but humble tree that half the pack known as the Marauders currently reside.
The beam of the Sun is effectively beautifying all who are presently crowded around this lake, i.e. the entire student body of Hogwarts. The grass is studded and laced with glorifying light; the lake is garnished with mirror-y waves; the boys splash each other, creating carefree handsomeness; and the girls, kitted out in their shortest skirts, thinnest robes and barest legs, are healthily flushed, the Sun's smirk gilding their eyelashes, creating the most perfect of frames for their eyes. Yet, in spite of all this, Sirius Black, for the life of him, cannot tear his eyes away from the boy in front of him.
Remus, despite all the Sun's cheerful effort, is not beautified like all the others. This is because it was inconveniently a full moon last night, meaning the young lycan is a little worse for wear. He is as pale as the satellite that reigns over his condition, and has shadows around his eyes. He is sore and uncomfortable, but makes the most of the outdoors, and so remains peaceful. His soul is beautified all the same.
Sirius, by contrast, looks as magnificent as ever. His ethereally pale skin is the by-product of generations and generations of (ahem, in-) breeding, and gives him a cold beauty. His eyes glisten as strong as ever, and his limbs are perfectly fine, if a bit restless. His soul, however, aches.
"You alright, Padfoot?" Remus asks, after minutes of gazing out to the lake, slowly blinking to regain crystal vision, "You're awfully quiet, and haven't once asks to 'frolic'" Remus winces at the word, "in the lake." Remus looks up expectantly.
"'M fine," Sirius reassures with a dazzling smile, "I'd rather be here with you, anyway."
Remus smiles back and Sirius thinks the Sun's got nothing on Remus. Leaning forward, Sirius presses his lips against the protruding nose scar – Remus acquired it recently, and is conscious of it as it is still a little pink. Delighted, Remus picks up Sirius's hand and their grip is strong despite Remus' fatigue. He kisses Sirius' knuckles, and looks back out at the lake, sighing contently.
Sirius continues to stare, but holds back from kissing Remus anymore.
At least until he's fully recovered.