Unknown Author

“That scar is going to drive me insane,” Sirius said through his teeth, gritting them angrily. Remus swallowed nervously, throat bobbing.
“Make a new one, then.”
Grey eyes drew back up to his. “What?”
“Make it yours.” Make me yours.

Got all these offers from people in Ukraine and Slovakia.”

"I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." (Philippians 4:13)

How we think we feel has a definite effect on how we actually feel physically. If your mind tells you that you are tired, the body mechanism, the nerves, and the muscles accept the fact. If your mind is intensely interested, you can keep on at an activity indefinitely. Religion functions through our thoughts, in fact, it is a system of thought discipline.

Remus sometimes worried that the time he spent hunting and killing monsters was turning him into one, too

and if Sirius hadn’t been occupying his every thought before, he was burned into every cell in his body now.

A version of Sirius that Remus might have gone over to, might have talked to, and, if he had had enough drinks, might have hit on; this was a version of Sirius Black that Remus could see himself - in the split second that the music melted away and the people faded into nothing and there was just him and those steel grey, beautiful eyes, filled with so much energy Remus felt weak - loving, possibly; maybe; unfathomably.

This was a version of Sirius that could ruin his life in the most normal way possible; by breaking his heart metaphorically, not physically.

“You’re a vampire!”
Sirius quirked a brow. “Are you high? What did you take?”

“If you hadn’t just ruined my night, I would’ve made a joke about how cheeseburgers are as gorgeous as you,” he pointed out, childishly, after a few moments. “But I’m pissed, so I won’t.”