Sirius' favorite colour was gold.
It was certainly not his favorite because his mother draped herself in as much of it as she could every morning.
He was not fond of it because his father worshiped the metal and adored what it stood for, probably above his very name.
And he certainly didn't love it because there was a sealed Gringott's vault lined with it, just waiting for the Most Noble heir of the Ancient Family.
He never liked gold jewelry. On himself, anyway. He thought the colour clashed with his pale skin and light eyes. However, he did enjoy the way the glossy surface shone its brilliant yellow and wished it complimented his features.
And he loved the way the Sunday afternoon sun was able to hit it in just the right way to reveal hidden ambers in the metal.
But it was his favorite colour because of how it woke him up in the morning.
Every morning golden rays of sunlight would wash over bed sheets and pillows and stain them a radiant beige. It gently made soft hair glisten and still-flushed cheeks glow. And, then, the light would begin to fill in the shadowed lines of light pink lips and tread over thick eyelashes and, encircled in a perfect aura of golden light, Remus would open his eyes. The light would catch each and every colour of the irises, presenting to Sirius the sleep-glazed eyes that had seen pain far beyond his years and had been a strong dam for oceans of tears that many would be unable to hold back. His eyes were the perfect blend, Sirius thought, of amber and honey and gold and immeasurable depth and love and Remus.
