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Remus studies the pictures with what would appear a disinterested eye, but the brush of his fingertips across the surface give lie to that. He traces the curves and angles of Sirius's face, watching him laugh in a never-ending cycle of pure, unimpeded joy as he and James run across the commons, the remaining high of some masterful prank etched across their faces. He smiles slightly, the most he allows himself anymore. Sirius was never innocent - he was a Black and he was alive with mischief - but there is something innocent in this moment of unguarded joy and, for that reason, Remus hides it away and swears to himself he will never look at it again. |
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