I wrote this three years ago...
I watched him as he chopped up the rest of the carrots for the stew he was making. His platinum ring glinted sliver; the jewels sparkled, newly polished. He was humming and smiling. His gray hair was pulled back into a shabby ponytail but his best dress robes were pressed and he had even cleaned them of fur. I was also wearing my best robes, it was a very special occasion; I had finally agreed to consent to him adopting a little magical brat from one of the war orphanages. It had been fifteen years since we discovered our attractions to each other and it had taken him that long to convince me to get a kid. He wanted a little girl and even volunteered to adopt a werewolf child. The social worker was stopping by for lunch to talk about two prospective candidates, Lily and Emily. Remus was anxious, fidgeting until the door rang so I went to get it. The social worker seemed nice and friendly enough as we talked about the children; she was a little concerned about our ability to deal with a lycanthropic child until Remus confessed that he had a monthly problem too. I'm still not quite sure if he drugged me or just tricked me but before I knew it we were adopting both of the little things and signing away papers that held us responsible. What was I thinking?