Author's Notes: Written pre-DH, so AU from the end of HBP.
Remus Lupin knew a lot about scars. Too much, really.
There were physical scars, of course. They littered his body as a testament to what he was – or, at least, what he became when the moon was full. One in particular was so vicious that anyone who had seen it wondered at the fact that he was even still alive. That had been the first of the many, and belied his nature more so than all the others put together.
He didn't often let people close enough to him to see it. He particularly steered clear of letting those people who were most likely recognise its source, other than those he'd trusted throughout his life, catch a glimpse of it.
And then there was emotional scarring, which he could certainly account for as well. His family had passed on without him, leaving him to mourn them alone. He'd lived with the knowledge that his friends, who were close enough to almost be family as well, would never be able to grow up. He'd been unable to live the life that all those who were lost to him would have wanted for him. His condition precluded him from having a normal life, with a job and a new family of his own.
He'd loved and lost. Twice, in fact, and with the same person each time. That wound had barely even scabbed over yet, but Remus foresaw it becoming the worst of all his scars.
He'd also been betrayed time and time again. Sometimes it hurt more than others, even when the betrayal was in itself a lie, as was the case with Sirius. But they all added up nonetheless and left him finding it difficult to trust.
He didn't want to be an aging, bitter and lonely man, but there it was. He'd resigned himself to it.
That was, at least, until one day when the war had ended and those few members of the Order who remained alive and well enough to attend met for hopefully the last time.
From the corner of the room, Mad-Eye Moody watched him. Remus felt almost obliged to watch him back, as if something disastrous might happen if their eye-contact broke for more than a moment. It was disconcerting, though, especially as neither of them said a word throughout the whole meeting.
While the others around them shared a few drinks and laughed and chatted together, he and Moody faced off.
When the others began to leave, Remus noticed that a few of them shot him worried looks. Nymphadora came up to him and asked if anything was wrong.
"Nothing," he muttered.
She ran a hand nervously through her sky blue hair. "Remus, I'm worried about you. I know that you don't want to be with me; you've made that quite clear, and I'm all right with that now. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't still spend time with people."
"I'm here, aren't I?"
The words sounded weak, he knew.
Nymphadora sighed. "Yes. Just... take care, Remus."
And then she left, and Remus was left alone. Or perhaps not quite alone, because Moody still lurked in the corner, half covered by the shadow that had fallen since the fire had been extinguished.
"She's not wrong, you know, Lupin," he said gruffly.
Remus snorted. "She never is."
"You're not like some people. Like me. You can't survive if you lock yourself away entirely."
"I know. Of course I know that. Don't you think I'd like to find someone to spend time with? But they're all so damn happy, and I just feel empty."
"Do you see me smiling?"
Remus frowned. "You? You want to spend time with me?"
"I'm not averse to the idea. We could go for a drink."
Remus shot him a sceptical look.
"Or perhaps you're more interested in a casual shag, eh, Lupin?"
He was quite certain his eyes bugged right out of his head with that sentence. He tried not to look at Moody like he was out of his mind. It felt wrong to tell someone that they just weren't attractive enough to say things like that. But surely Moody knew what he looked like. Right?
Except that Remus did find Moody strangely enticing. It wasn't in the same way that he'd been attracted to Sirius, of course. Moody was hardly as easy on the eyes as his friend had been when they'd been young and carefree and had first fallen into bed together. But Moody had that same intensity that Sirius had had during their second attempt at a relationship after Sirius had escaped from Azkaban.
He imagined how that kind of purposive approach would translate sexually and shuddered.
Moody might not make him hot and bothered and all too willing to be buggered senseless regardless of the consequences like Sirius had, but he expected that having sex that wasn't of the solo variety once more could only be helpful in allowing himself to move on. And he wasn't completely against the idea of that sex being performed with Moody, either.
Moody, at least, was a man that understood what it was like to be scarred and to not be capable of trusting the people around him. Remus needed that.
And perhaps it was a good thing that his appearance wasn't precisely ideal, anyway. Remus didn't find the thought of being reminded of Sirius during sex with another man particularly appealing.
"Maybe we'll start with that drink," Remus finally said. "And then we'll see."
~FIN~