Pink.
Violet.
White.
Blonde.
It didn't matter what colour his wife's hair was, Remus loved her all the same.
He loved to watch her experiment with her appearance, play around and make faces at him as he sat on the couch in awe of the woman he had married and all her wonderful abilities.
It was a relief when their son inherited traits from his mother, and not him.
Remus stared when his son began to shapeshift within hours of his birth, thrilled that a piece of Nymphadora had been passed on to the baby boy sitting in his arms.
And as Remus lay there, dying on the ground, he was at peace knowing that the woman he loved would live on, tied tightly to a piece of him.
Little did he know, their baby boy would outlive them both.
At least they left a mark on this world.
At least he left a mark tied to her.