Author's note: Well gang, the Google Doc for these drabbles has officially gotten unmanageably long. Like, it takes ages to load. I finally broke down and made a new one, which I guess is a good way to celebrate the drabbles that come after chapter 100. Yikes. Anywho, enjoy!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the canon, world, and characters portrayed below and you can tell I'm not J.K. Rowling because #transrights

Hogwarts: Assignment #3, Duelling Task #2: Write about someone unhappy about aging/getting older.

Warnings: NA

A Matching Set

"Almost ready, love?" Remus asked as he pushed into the bathroom to go check on Dora's progress–since they were supposed to have left for Jamie's 17th birthday party… Well, it didn't really matter did it? No matter how punctual he could be on his own, he'd stopped expecting to be able to get anywhere on time with Dora.

He found her leaning over the sink and frowning at the mirror, though she seemed dressed and ready to go. The plum lipstick she'd been favouring as of late was already spread over her lips, she'd curled her hair as she'd announced she wanted to this morning, and was wearing her favourite jeans.

"Dora?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"I found a grey hair," she muttered.

"Oh," he said. "Alright. Did you… did you want to make it pink like the rest of your hair?"

"That's not the point, is it?" she said, squinting into the mirror some more. "I'm too pretty to have grey hair."

"Well," Remus said. "Thanks for that."

"Oh–you know damn well it's different," she said. "You're handsome. I'm pretty."

"I would say gorgeous," he said.

"Don't get all charming to get me out of the door sort of on time ish," she said. She combed three fingers through her bands. "Look, it's right here…"

"I can see it if I squint," Remus admitted–not sure if that was the right thing to say or not. Still, this was clearly a situation of some sort, so Remus dug his hands in his pocket and leaned against the bathroom door frame, making himself comfortable. "I didn't know Metamorphmagi greyed without wanting to."

They had never looked like an obvious match, of course–the age difference between the two of them had always looked magnified by the monthly battering and miscellaneous trauma his body got, not to mention her tendency to always look ageless and colourful and bright.

"Neither did I," she grumbled. "Fuck, can you believe this?"

"Well, as Sirius said, I began greying before the invention of sliced bread. But yes, I do recall some annoyance."

She turned to him and wrinkled her nose, which made him laugh. He peeled himself from the wall.

"Don't worry, it'll get better soon," he said, crossing the bathroom to gather her in his arms. He kissed her forehead. "You'll get used to it, accept the inevitable and so on. Besides, we're still a fair bit away from being a matching set."

Dora groaned and he burst out laughing again.

"I'll admit that I'm having a hard time pitying you," he said.

"Indulge me?"

"That I can do," he said, kissing her forehead again.

WC: 439