As Remus looked over at the man he had grown to love, the man he had lost, and the man he had been able to love again, he let his face split into a smile. Sirius stared back at him. His jacket was fitting him much better now, his shoulders having filled out more since he’d gained a bit of weight back. His style had shifted slightly, however. Remus noticed more and more of his own clothes being worn by Sirius, corduroy blazers in shades of green and brown. There was something nice about it, about finding the people they were, who they were growing to be. But it also posed a personal issue to Remus. They weren’t young anymore, they hadn’t been young for a long time. Even before they lost everyone they were never young and carefree in the way they should have been. But now they were old, Sirius was growing into the style Remus himself had worn for years, the style he used to be made fun of for, the style that was branded as dressing beyond their years. 