"ouch ouch ouchhhh—" you wince scrunching your face hard, almost moving it altogether if it wasn't for remus' strong grip on your chin as he cleans your bloody nose. "remmyyyy, it hurts." you pout and he only shakes his head, chuckling through his nose.
"d'whine like this when you punched her first?" you frown dramatically, he knew too well of your antics, too good of a boyfriend, you would get into some fight, like some super hero, no pain, no tears, and then would transform into a cry baby when he was patching you up simply because you loved being taken care of by him. and by him only, obviously, not a side of you that was shown to anyone else.
"nop, but that cocksucker sure did." you try to smirk while you reply, but his grip on your face makes it almost impossible too, still your shoulders move a bit as you laugh.
"language, lady." he doesn't really care for that, but remus finds it endlessly amusing how far back you can roll your eyes when he teases you about it, specially because your mouth was always particularly dirty after a fight, still riled up from the adrenaline. he let your chin go and lightly pushed your cheek, turning your face around so he could clean a bruise near your scalp. "she smacked your head into a wall or something?"
"floor actually." remus tries, he really does try not to be amused, he doesn't want to enable this behavior, it's not safe, it's not right. and he worries so much about you, he does. but how can he not laugh when you're in front of him, all bruised, bloodied up, and still look so beautiful and so charming and talk about so nonchalantly? not a single worry behind those eyes, only recklessness. he's almost jealous. he plants a kiss beside the injury, glad it wasn't deep and it wouldn't need any stitches this time.
in a very sick sick sick way, this always calms him down, it makes him feel more normal. once a month it's the other way around, it's you going through his body for cuts and cleaning the blood and checking if he would absolutely need pomfrey this time (after a while it gets tiring being in a hospital bed). some couples learn to paint, or to knit, for you two it was first aid. first aid was remus' and yours thing.
remus takes both your hands with his carefully, looking to see which one was worse, your dominant one of course, he let the other go and kissed your knuckles, you tried not to but you still flinch, those were bad, you ended up hitting the floor a couple of times while you aimed for the hufflepuff's chin. at least it bloody broke, along with her nose and a least three teeth. "love, y'know so many jinxes, why, why always your pretty fists?" he always asks, he hopes anytime soon you will give him a different answer, but you don't.
"i'm not a bloody coward, rem." james and sirius are never happy when they hear you talk like that, they were avid users of jinxes as prank devices, and... problem solving devices. you told remus you believed violence to be more effective, he knew, or hoped, you felt it was easier to truly hurt someone with no way back with magic. he bandaged the first hand thinly, so you could still move it with a bit of freedom and went to clean the other one.
"why this time?" you stayed quiet. very quiet. too quiet. remus hated when you were quiet. you were not a quiet person, if you were quiet it meant you were in trouble. you were already being patched up so how worse could it be? "darling, why?"
"dunno, quidditch stuff." you don't play quidditch. you close your eyes immediately as the terrible terrible lie leaves your lips. quidditch? where did that even come from? you so didn't want to tell him the real reason.
remus didn't like you getting hurt, he specially didn't like you getting hurt because of him, that was even the only reason sirius kept you from punching severus months before, if he knows i was here and i let you start this i'm fuckin' dead, but you couldn't help it, he's your beautiful, caring boyfriend, who reads you to sleep, who shares cigs with you even when he says he's trying to stop, he patches you up after fights, and he gets you coffee even when he's drinking tea. he opens his coat so you can hug him and snuggle inside of it when it's snowy, and he asks you to stay up late with him studying even if you're gonna fall asleep on his lap because the sound of your breathing helps him focus. how, just how are you going to let anyone say anything about him?
he doesn't tell you off on your blatant lie instantly, finishing up the bandage on your hand. he sighs deeply and you know you did not get away with it, his right index finger goes to your chin and he uses it to push it softly so you're looking directly into his beautiful, worried, sincere eyes. "why?"
"she had it bloody coming a'ight—fourth year prick, too old to be blabbing about shit she knows fuckall about." remus doesn't respond, because you haven't either, you're stalling, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and gives you the courtesy of ignoring the fact the girl was three years younger than you. you try to fidget with your fingers but the bandages stop you, so you shrug and give him what he wants, "she was saying shit about your scars, thought she needed sum' of her own." for him, for his sake. his hands drop to his waist and he looks at you shaking his head, but his heart is warm and he hopes his cheeks aren't.
sure, he could be sad, offended, about some kids being idiots about his appearance, and truthfully, if he was younger, he would. remus didn't care about it much anymore, and how could he, when he pulled one of the most gorgeous girls he could ever dream of and you were smart, talented and could even easily destroy him with your fists if you wanted to. and there you were, all fucked up because you couldn't accept people talking about him. it was too endearing, and he shouldn't enable it, he knows it, his mind is yelling him not to, but his hands are pulling you to him for the tightest hug he's ever given you. "you gonna get scarred too, you—" he doesn't even have the mind to remember any cuss words to start any banter, really, "beautiful, little, crazy, thing." he kisses your neck countless times, his hand tangles in your hair, keeping you close.
"don' care, wear mine with honour." your voice is muffled, your mouth too close to his chest, you pull away just enough to look up to him, your hands flat to his body, "as should you." he leans in, closing the distance between you both once more, now with with a chaste kiss, that even so tastes like iron, and stings like a bitch.
"i love you, deeply, terribly. please, please, don't do this again... goddamn loony—oh no." you widen your eyes instantly, but you both laugh, glad that neither james nor sirius are nearby. if any one of them heard him slip up like that and use that word, of all the ones he could have... the two of you would never hear the end of it.
but that was truly it. moony was completely, head over heels, too far gone, heels over head, intensely in love... with a total loony.
he was enjoying every minute of it, though, even right now, the tight hug, the blood tasting kisses, and the way you looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.
and he was. as you were his.