Hello! This is, actually, a translation I made by myself of a fanfic that I've had already written in my native language, which is portuguese, so I will already apologize about all the mistakes this story may have. I hope you enjoy!
Caramel kisses X
"The best people all have some kind of scar." – Kiera Cass
A mirror. Such a simple object that apparently could do no harm – unless you spend too much time staring at it.
The first part Remus saw of his own image was his eyes. At first, nothing wrong could be said about them. They seemed very tired, yes, but they looked human, at least. And for someone who had lots of nightmares during the childhood about never waking up human again, that was perfectly acceptable.
He looked down at his robes. Spent and full of patches. In a deplorable, ragged aspect; he knew. But he could do nothing about it. No one would give him a job; Dumbledore had been one of the only ones to do such a favor – because people were disgusted by the fact that he was a werewolf. More than this: they were afraid. Some told him he was a monster … and sometimes Remus wondered if they were right.
He climbed back to his face. Pale, ill.
And then there were the scars. Oh, the scars. They were the worst part. It was never pleasant to look at them, not for aesthetics, since Remus had never cared too much about it, but for all the painful thoughts they usually brought.
Lucky all the scars were lying on his face, and not on other's. If he had done it to himself, imagine what he could have done to other people! Those marks were the living and constant remind of what he was and would be forever: a monster.
He sighed. So that was what everybody saw when looked at him?
All of a sudden, a new image appeared in the mirror, calling the attention of the melancholy man.
A smiling girl with colorful hair and vivid, dark eyes that sparkled as stars.
"You know what? I like all these scars you have there on your face."
He chuckled. Tonks, always so…her.
"Seriously!" the girl insisted, imagining that the laughter had signed disbelief. "I guess it's because, somehow, they remind me of Harry's or Mad-Eye's… Well, all the scars have something in common in a way after all, do not they? If you have a scar, it means you had been strong enough to overcome whatever caused it, and that's why they all have a sort of hidden beauty. At least in my opinion…"
She touched him gently on the shoulder during the speech and came closer. He did not dare to move any muscle while he felt each of her words finding their way to his heart and while every cell of his body felt that touch, that of the hands and that of the words, over the clothes and over the pains of the soul.
The stillness bothered her.
"Have I sounded a little… weird? I'm sorry, sometimes I have these odd thoughts. But that's what I think, anyway", she said and left the hallway before Lupin could come up with any answer.
He saw the reflection of her move away from the splintered frame, and then instinctively turned his eyes back to his solitary reflection.
Suddenly, staring at all those scars was no longer painful anymore.