Scar Tissue

Sirius studies each of Remus’ scars with his eyes and his fingers. Standing close to Remus, he traces each one, feels how deep they go, how smooth they feel. Remus’ scars, Sirius thinks, are like a cross stitch; they weave together to form a picture of the curse that he is burdened with.

The full moon is only hours away. The dying rays of the sun filter through the window and cut through the dinginess of the room. In each beam of light Sirius sees, when he glances over Remus’ shoulder, particles of dust float in the cool air. Each of them catch the stream of light as they drift lazily and glisten like tiny stars. Seeing them shimmer like that reminds Sirius that soon, Remus will be a creature of the night.

He shifts his eyes back to Remus’ face and meets his friend’s worried hazel eyes. Don’t be worried, Remus, I’m here, he wants to say. He wants to say it. Oh, how he wants to say it. But he doesn’t. How could Remus possibly not worry?

Sirius yearns to lift this tribulation from Remus; he wishes he could remove this blight from Remus’ life, this condition that makes his friend feel like he is nothing but a mere disease. I wish I could take the burden from you, he thinks as his fingertips follow a long scar that gouges over his shoulder. I hate seeing you suffer, Moony.

Sirius’ dark eyes stray from Remus’ and slowly he gazes over each scar that lines his pale face. He knows each and every one of those scars like he knows the back of his own hand; he has studied them endlessly. Remus thinks his scars are a pure disfigurement, like a stain that refuses to be lifted. Sirius doesn’t think so; no, he thinks Remus’ scars are marks of battle and bravery, conquest and courage. He has seen, with his own eyes, what Remus endures each and every month and he can’t help but look upon those scars with anything more than admiration.

“I’m scared,” Remus says. His voice is timid, nervous and shaky. Sirius feels Remus’ hands on his bare chest. They are clammy and cold. “I’m scared, Padfoot.”

Sirius simply nods as his finger skims back down that same scar on Remus’ shoulder. He has no words; he knows how scared Remus is. He hears this same confession each month and, oh, how it breaks his heart. I know, Moony. I know.

He feels the cold, sweaty hands on his chest press against him as Remus digs his nails in. Sirius looks back up and meets his friend’s eyes again. They are bright with tears. He feel his stomach tighten and his heart wrench. Don’t cry, Moony. I’m here. “Why me, Sirius?” Remus whispers. He feels the nails dig deeper; it’s as if Sirius is a cliff top and Remus is dangling over the edge, gripping on for his life.

Sirius swallows and feels a lump forming in the back of his throat. “I…I don’t know, Moony,” he replies in a hushed voice. God, how he wishes he had an answer every time Remus asks him that. I wish I knew. He feels so helpless whenever he hears that question; he feels that way because he knows that there is no way that he can lift the heaviness that shrouds Remus’ heart and fogs his mind. I wish I could free you from this terror, he wants to say. But what good would that be?

Remus looks down. “I don’t want to go through this again,” he confesses. There is shame in his voice; Sirius knows how ashamed Remus feels. He has heard him speak of it many times. There is nothing to be ashamed of, Moony, he tells him every time. You have no control over this, you know that.

“I know you don’t,” Sirius replies. His heart wrenches again; it feels like it is contorting, twisting, being squeezed and torn at with bare hands. “I know you don’t,” he says again.

Slowly, he slides his hands down Remus’ chest and then around his waist to his back. The scars on his friend’s back are deeper and longer than anywhere else on his body. They feel like canyons rather than grooves. They dig deep into Remus’ flesh and interweave like vines. He traces one scar with his finger that gouges across the small of his friend’s back. Sirius remembers this particular scar very well; the very first time that he had stayed with Remus during a transformation, he’d watched in horror as the beast that his friend had become slashed this very spot on his body with a sharp lycan claw. There had been so much blood and chunks of fresh, raw flesh hung from the gaping wound. God, he had been so scared, but no where near as scared as Remus.

As if reading his thoughts, Remus says again; “I’m so scared, Padfoot.” Sirius glances back up to his friend’s face and sees a single tear roll down from his eye. Don’t cry, Moony. Please - don’t cry. It glides down his cheek and dips into each of the scars in its path, glistening like a faded star as it catches the last of the sun’s light. The clammy hands on his chest slide around his waist to his back and Remus steps in and presses his face into the crook of Sirius’ neck. He hears a soft sob and feels his friend’s body shake as his breaths become hitched.

Sirius closes his eyes and presses his cheek to Remus’. Over the scars, which are like a map of Remus’ body, his fingers travel, like a nomad that is trekking across vast plains of land. How I wish I could take your cup of suffering. “I’m here, Moony,” he soothes. “I’ll protect you.” His arms close around his friend and he holds Remus tight. I’m here, Moony. I’m here. I love you. I wish I could stop this from happening, but I can’t. I simply can’t. And, oh, how I hate to see you suffer. It breaks my heart, Moony. “I’m here,” he whispers again.

Remus clutches him close and cries. Oh, god, how he cries. Sirius feels so helpless, so fucking useless. Nothing he can say can make this better; nothing he can say will lift the curse from Remus. Nothing, nothing. All he can do is hold him, listen to him weeping and listen to him whisper how frightened he is. Sirius knows that, no matter how many times Remus endures this, he will always be afraid, because, oh god, there is so much pain, there is so much torture. He hears it in Remus’ screams when he succumbs to the moon. He sees it in his face as he writhes and spasms in agony. Oh god, seeing someone he loves so very much suffer like that simply tears him apart inside.

“I’m such a freak,” Remus sobs into Sirius’ neck.

Sirius winces. “No,” he whispers. He lifts a hand to Remus’ head and threads his sandy blond hair through his fingers. “No, Remus.”

“A freak!”

Tears prick Sirius’ eyes. He hears the pain in his friend’s voice. He hears it and he feels it. It spears into his heart and, oh, god, Moony, I feel so helpless! “No, Remus.” His voice is shaky, but damn it, he wants to be strong for Remus. He needs to be strong for him. “You are not a freak, Moony. You are the strongest person I have ever known. The bravest person I have ever known.”

“I’m not brave. I’m terrified.”

What can he say to that? There is nothing he can offer that would be of any reassurance. God, I feel so fucking useless! Sirius fights back the tears. He blinks furiously and glances up at the stream of sunlight, which is now weak and very faint. Night time will be here at any moment. “Of course you are,” he finally says. He pulls Remus tighter into his arms and mutters against his ear, “But you are brave because you will survive.” He feels his friend’s arms clench around him tighter. Remus is shaking uncontrollably, utterly filled with fear.

He holds Remus close to him in silence. He listens to Remus’ sobs slowly taper off to quiet sniffles as he watches the room grow darker and darker. The sunlight fades to nothing and the corners of the room loom with eerie shadows. It is not long until night falls completely. Sirius hears the faint hooting of an owl and the wind outside pick up to a sweeping gust. The time is approaching and, oh god, how he wishes it wasn’t.

It’s as if the moon could read his mind. The clouds part in the sky and the first streams of the moon’s pale light flood through the window. Sirius holds his breath at the first twitch of Remus’ muscles. He hears a whimper and feels Remus heave a sharp, balmy breath against his neck. “I’m here, Remus,” Sirius assures one final time in a whisper before he abruptly lets Remus go and takes a few steps back from him. Sirius feels his limbs lengthen and his muscles pull and stretch as he hunches over. Fur sprouts from his skin and his face lengthens to take the shape of a canine.

Slowly, Sirius, now a black dog, stealthily walks backwards into the shadows. He whimpers at each scream that Remus lets out and shuts his eyes each time he hears the sickening sound of a bone crack. The moon’s curse is so frightfully brutal and savage. Sirius is so incredibly helpless, so fucking useless. He hates the fact that he can do no more other than lurk in the shadows and watch.

He looks away as he hears the first ear-splitting howl. It is going to be a long night.