Scars
Don’t cry,
Don’t raise your eye,
It’s only a teenage wasteland
Friday 15th October, 1971
Remus spent the next couple of days meticulously steering clear of Sirius – or at the very least being alone with him. It was far from easy, they all spent their free time together, more so on the weekends. They all made it through Friday’s Charms test without failing; even Pete. Flitwick was so delighted that the whole class had perfected levitation so early in the year that he dismissed them early for lunch.
The next week, Sirius made himself inescapable during their flying lesson. If Remus didn’t have such a large distaste for History of Magic, then Flying would take the top spot on that list. Barely twenty minutes into the class with Madam Hooch, he had discovered his fear of heights, making the rest of the classes a miserable experience for him.
James was, unsurprisingly, the standout of the class, and even the other Marauders found him unbearable as he zipped around the Quidditch pitch, effortlessly executing loops and feints as if he had been born on a broomstick. Sirius was almost as good as James and Peter clung to his broom with a determination that was quite admirable. He skimmed through the air as though fleeing an unseen pursuer—an art he had undoubtedly mastered through Jamie’s training; the majority of the class had been raised riding around on brooms.
It had stormed the night before, which caused the damp earth to sag underfoot, its surface broken by pools of murky water and slick trails of churned-up mud. They’d changed from their usual school shoes and black robes into thick, heavy boots and burgundy flying robes. They grabbed their brooms and waited for instructions. The brooms were the school’s as first year’s aren’t allowed to bring their own. However, that would not stop James from telling anyone who would listen that he had a top model at home.
“Okay, mount your brooms please, ladies and gents,” she shouted over the group in a thick Irish accent, “There’s a nice strong wind today, so i want you all to that care in the air. Potter, no showing off!”
Remus hoisted himself onto his broom, his throat tightening. If he could get through this without throwing up, it would be a triumph.
“I want five laps around the pitch, then a good, steady landing back here from each of you. Watch the puddle, and please remember to lean into the wind wherever you can. It can be your best friend or your downfall. Ten points to whoever makes it back first.” and with hardly a warning, the silver-haired, hawk-eyed witch blew hard on her whistle.
Remus and Lily, being the only two muggle-raised kids in the group, were the last to lift off. But once the fiery redhead was airborne, she shot forward effortlessly.
“Lift your broom higher, Lupin! Come on!” Hooch squawked from bellow him, voiced magnified. He really wanted to ignore her, but their was no escape – at least at home, he didn’t have to do much exercise, besides the day after the fulls.
He lifted himself slightly higher, trying not to look bellow; to think about anything besides the vast emptiness between him and the ground. He spotted Lily's vibrant red braid flicking ahead like a fox's tail, while Peter's gleaming blonde hair appeared somewhere in the middle of the group. Although he couldn't see far ahead, he could tell that James and Sirius were nearly side by side. Remus kept pushing forward, determinedly, not eager to pick up the pace. Who was even bothered if he came last, as long as he didn’t break any bones then he’s be fine. As he sailed steadily around the corner at the edge of the pitch, the wind hit him full force. He fought to maintain his speed, leaning forward to keep from slowing down too much. It was freezing, and the chill morning air pummelled into his eyes.
The second lap was just as dreadful as the first, and by the third, he had realised that James had taken to running laps around each of the fifty-foot goal posts, much to Madam Hooch’s reprimands. When he was on his fourth, company had joined him.
“Having fun?” Sirius was ginning from ear to ear, gliding along beside him. He look comfortable,as though he could probably lean back and cross his legs over the broom and still control it with ease.
“Whad are ya doin’?” Remus' expression darkened as he attempted to block him out, “Tryin’ to lose?”
“Jamies’ going to win anyway,” He shrugged, “May as well give him his moment, plus Gryffindor would get the points regardless. Thought i would fly around with you.”
“Why?” He asked, through gritted teeth.
“Thought you might want to have some company,” Remus didn’t have to turn his gaze to know that he had that irritating Sirius Black grin spread across face. “And we're about to land, which I know you can’t stand.”
“Ffyc off.”
“Oh, so you want to play the language game? We can play the language game.” he said as he cocked his eyebrow.
“Rwy’n eich rhybuddio Du.”
They were both smirking at each other because they knew neither of them could make sense of the others langauge.
“Tu ne peux pas m’attaquer ici, Lupin. À moins que tu veuilles lâcher ce balai.”
“Dduw, rwyt ti mor annifyr.”
“Oui.” Sirius soared up in front of him, then looped around in a flawless circle, like a moon caught in orbit.
“Ffyc off.” Remus tried to dodge him, swaying precariously.
“Come on, time to land... remember, stick your legs out in front and lean back on your broom... then you have to bend your knees as you get to the – hey!”
Remus had yanked the tail of Sirius’ broom hard. Laughing, Sirius steadied himself, then proceeded to fly back to the side of Remus and give him a forceful shove back. Remus trembled but kept a firm grip as he descended. It was a lot smoother than before, he leaned, then twisted fast so he could push Sirius again.
“Out my way! You can be the last for once!” He yelled, speeding up.
“Oh, no. Absolutely not!” Sirius had now grabbed the tail of Remus’ broom, laughing, and tugged him backwards. This might have been a step too far, as they were already dangerously close to the ground. The two grappling boys tumbled downward, their brooms slipping out from under them. With a spectacular crash, they plunged into a massive muddy puddle, skidding and rolling forward, their robes utterly drenched in the process.
“Mr Black! Mr Lupin!” Madam Hooch marched over to where the two boys where sprawled on the floor.
The other Gryffindors were gathered around, pointing and laughing. Sirius jumped to his feet with all the grace and nobility the came with the Black family, and hauled Lupin up with a firm grip. The both peered at their coach through muddy water drops in their eyelashes, trying to blink them away.
“What did i say about the puddle?” Madam hooch had an eyebrow raise, but it did not have the same effect as if it were McGonagall, instead it had an amused, playful look to it. She could usually see the fun in things, like a child. “A point each from Gryffindor. Yous better go shower and change. Off you pop.”
They both looked down and trudged toward the Quidditch changing rooms, lifting their heavy, waterlogged robes away from their bodies.
“Kit chwerthinllyd gwaedlyd.” He grumbled under his breath as they made their way into the changing rooms – a squat little building under the spectator stands. “How will we dry it?”
“Oh, the elves will sort that out.”Sirius responded, peeling his off him and throwing them in a corner.
Remus could not be arsed to ask what on earth a house elf was. He shook his own robes off and booted his shoes off, then walked into a stall to finish undressing. There were towels ready for when they were done, and the water was the perfect temperature that Remus could not help but melt into as the steamy water licked his skin, deliciously as it trickled down his scarred skin. He leaned into the stream, letting its warmth seep into his bones, eyes following the muddy water and scattered grass as they vanished down the drain. At least he he sidled his way out of the next forty minutes of flying.
He scrubbed his hair roughly. Without his mam doing monthly shaves, his hair was growing longer and softer, almost as messy as Jamie’s. He could actually see what colour it was and was rather disappointed that it was a dirty blond colour, the same as his father’s.
Remus finished showering before Sirius did and stepped out, looking frantically for his uniform. He was half-way dressed when Sirius stepped out of his stall. His long hair was slicked back, small, yet fairly defined wringletts were starting to form as it dried. He was already fully dressed, effortlessly cool, while Remus, noticing a missed button, sighed and started over.
“What is that?” Sirius said, abruptly. Remus looked up, then back down. Sirius was pointing at a large, ragged silver line that stretched from just bellow his jawline in the left diagonally down across his chest to his right middle rib. His hands fumbled in urgency, trying to button up his shirt as quickly as possible.
“A scar.” He said, plainly. There was no point in saying anything else. He hardy notice them by now. They were just on him, as much a part of him as his freckles.
“It’s.... How did it happen?”
There was something strange in Sirius’ voice. Something small and quiet. Remus found that he also couldn’t speak, so he just stared. Sirius stared back. It was a few painfully awkward moments of silence. Sirius was the first to break it. “I’ve got scars too...” The words were barely above a whisper, so faintly that Remus hesitated, unsure if he'd heard right.
Sirius lent down, pulled the cuff of his trousers up just above his ankle, and turned it to show Remus the marks. Sirius’ were hardy like the ones that littered Lupin’s body – large and jagged, slashing in every-which-way, rage and hunger etched eternally into his warm, tanned skin. The silver stripes on the backs of Sirius' legs were slender and unyielding, their precision a testament to their cruelty. Remus didn’t tear his eyes away. It was a few seconds before Sirius dropped the cuff and straightened himself.
They looked each other in the eyes, Remus feeling hot, Sirius’ cool blue eyes calm. They broke away.
“Should we go and watch Jamie make a fool of himself?” Sirius asked.
Remus nodded, and they both walked out into the crisp autumn air. They took a seat in the stands and watched the rest of the group dash back and fourth along the pitch, streaks of red waving behind them. Lily, though lacking James’ technique, was giving him a really good run for his money when speed was involved. She was beating him in two out of three races.
“Remus?” Sirius spoke so suddenly that i caught Remus off guard.
“Ie?”
“Two things?”
“Shoot.”
“One, what is that language?”
“It’s Welsh. I’m from Wales – the South”
“Okay. The second, you can’t read can you?”
Remus let out a long exhausted sigh. He had enough secrets as is, what was it if Sirius knew one of them.
“Nah.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“Diolch.”
“I’m gonna assume that means ‘thanks’.”
Remus just smiled at him. Sirius grinned back.
That Sirius Black grin.