~*~Scars~*~
by Hatter of Madness
Something was wrong with Sirius.
Remus was the first to notice, always being so in tune to his best friend. He pointed it out to James, who brushed it off as nothing, and then to Peter, who thought it was odd but nothing to worry about.
But Remus knew better. He knew that there was something Sirius was hiding, and what that something was, he didn't quite know himself yet. He couldn't ask questions, and this was something he learned the hard way.
That day, he had sauntered to the Gryffindor common room after going to the library, the day before his monthly ritual of becoming a werewolf, fearing the next transformation as always, though he knew his friends would be there for him. He said the password to the painting of the Fat Lady (the password was Venomous Tentacula), which then swung open allowing him in the common room. The first person his eyes fell on was Sirius, who sat in an armchair, his eyes bloodshot. This was not normal behavior for Sirius.
"Padfoot?"
Sirius had practically jumped a foot in the air; he had not seen Remus approaching, and when the second boy had said his nickname, it came as quite a surprise to him. He had assumed, other than the giggly first year girls in the corner who laughed as though they had been hit with a jinx, that he was alone in the common room. Obviously, he was badly mistaken.
"Oi, Moony, you were about to give me a heart attack," he said, as though nothing was wrong.
"It's almost time for supper," Remus said, trying to ignore the red streaks in Sirius's eyes—his bloodshot, tear stricken eyes. Secretly, Remus liked the pale blue of his eyes; they reminded him of the sky, though he did not share this with any of his friends, not even James, who they all trusted the most.
Sirius tried to force a smile. It did not work. "Thanks, Moony," he said, with an aura of sadness about his words, "but I don't think I'll be going down to the Great Hall."
"And why not?" Remus asked, frowning.
"I just…I'm not hungry," he finished quickly, hoping to dismiss the matter. The three first years had already left for the Great Hall, leaving Remus and Sirius alone in the common room. "You know, after Defense Against the Dark Arts today I just haven't been very hungry, you know."
Remus found this hard to believe. Sirius had had no problem with any of the horror stories that their professor, Flavius Clogg, told them in the past, and there had been some bizarre stories in the class, such as the time Professor Clapp told his students the story of a werewolf in Egypt attacking a wizard and brutally murdering him (the Marauders later laughed at this due to Remus's status as a werewolf himself). He had even showed the class pictures detailing this attack, which were very bloody and gory. Remus doubted any lesson after that would make Sirius uncomfortable, especially to the point of skipping meals.
"You said 'you know' twice in that sentence," Remus said. Sirius was not usually repetitive. "But alright. I'll see you later." And he left the common room again, leaving his friend alone. He instantly regretted this. Something was obviously wrong, and he had been too stupid to do anything about it. He was an idiot.
Then he got back from supper with James and Peter and found Sirius in their dormitory, holding a blood stained cloth in his hand, which was clenched tight in a fist.
"Padfoot, what happened?" Remus said, his heart starting to beat faster and faster in fear.
Sirius jerked his head in the direction of The Monster Book of Monsters at the foot of his bed. "Tried to do homework," he said, looking at the book and not his friends, "and the thing bit me."
"You've got to stroke the spine, Sirius," Remus said, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "If you do that, it'll open without trying to bludgeon you."
Sirius shrugged. "Must have forgotten," he said, then picked up the book again and stroked the spine, then opened it without a problem. Remus frowned.
"James, can I talk to you?" he asked. James looked up from his own bed, where he had been fixing the blankets with several flicks of his wand.
"Couldn't you have talked to me when we were coming back here?" James asked.
"Prongs," Remus warned and in a huff, James set his wand down and followed Remus out of the dormitory, leaving Peter behind, completely bewildered.
"What?" James asked once they had gotten halfway down the stairs leading back to the common room; obviously, he was not going any farther down the stairs. He even crossed his arms defiantly over his chest, obviously not amused.
"Something's wrong with Sirius, and you know it," Remus said, without preamble. James arched an eyebrow. "I mean, look, he's…"
"Yeah, I guess you're right," James said before Remus could finish. "Did you hear him? He was trying to do homework. Homework! That's not like Sirius at all. Usually he asks if he can copy you."
"Thanks for reminding me, Prongs," Remus said sarcastically. "Well, what should we do?"
"You mean, what should you do," James said, inspecting his thumbnail as if looking for a birthmark on its surface.
"I meant what I said. He's your friend, too, James," Remus said hotly. "And I'm worried about him."
"Well, it's Sirius's life, Remus. I don't want to get involved. He obviously doesn't want anyone to know what's eating him, so we should just, you know, leave him alone. If he wants to tell us, he will."
"It's not that simple," Remus said, shaking his head. "We're his friends. We're supposed to, well, you know…watch out for him."
"I don't think we should meddle in other people's business," James said, "and I'm going back to the dormitory." With that, he turned sharply on his heel and went the rest of the way up the stairs, back to the dormitory.
When that conversation had occurred, Remus was still very worried. He went up to the common room, too, feeling his stomach clenching in knots. Whether or not James liked it, he was going to find out what was wrong with Sirius. He knew that he was the last of the group to fall asleep, and always the last to wake up, too. After proofreading Sirius's Defense Against the Dark Arts essay ("Did you happen to even read the chapters assigned?" he asked as he found mistake after mistake in the essay) he changed into his pajamas quickly and pretended to go to sleep. Soon the others were asleep—but not Sirius.
It appeared he was checking to see if the others were asleep, then slowly took off his robes. Remus watched, unbeknownst to Sirius. Next his jacket came off. Then his tie. It took most of his self-control to keep from yelling at Sirius to hurry up. Finally, he started to slowly unbutton his shirt. Remus wasn't quite sure why he was watching Sirius undress, but he did, unsure of what he was expecting to see himself. Finally, the shirt came off—and the sight scared Remus terribly.
On Sirius's wrists—both of them, but more pronounced on the left—were scars. There were deep scars, old scars, new scars, even healing scars. They weren't like the scars Remus gave himself during his transformations to a werewolf. These were cuts caused by something sharp…something metal.
"Ah, Padfoot?" Remus said through the darkness.
Sirius practically had a heart attack for the second time that day. He looked at James, then Peter (both of whom were asleep), then his eyes fell at last on Remus, the color draining from his face. "M-Moony?" he whispered, noise barely coming out of him.
Remus sat up. "What's that on your arm?"
Sirius looked blank. "What, skin?" he asked, as though daring Remus to laugh.
"No," Remus said, starting to take blankets off himself. "Those. On your wrist." He paused. "Those are cuts, aren't they, Padfoot?"
"No."
"Sirius, don't lie. What are those doing there?"
"You know. The book." Sirius quickly grabbed for his pajamas and Remus leapt from his bed.
"Monster Book of Monsters? Yeah, no. The book didn't do this, Sirius. What happened?"
"Nothing," Sirius said, shrugging into his shirt. "Nothing but the book."
"The book may or may not have attacked you, but it sure as hell didn't do this, Padfoot. What the bloody hell happened?"
"NOTHING!" Sirius shouted, waking the others. "I TOLD YOU, IT'S NOTHING!" He quickly startd buttoning up his shirt as though the conversation hadn't happened. He didn't bother changing out of his school pants into this pajamas before getting into bed. The other Marauders stared at Remus.
"Well, you heard him," Remus huffed. "It's nothing." And he, too, climbed into bed.
Bleh, I know this is a bad place to end it, but I don't feel like working on this anymore. I have really big plans for this story, though, if anyone's interested in reading it, so please review. Also, I know Hagrid assigned TMBM for his Magical Creatures class, but I needed something for Sirius to say, so I threw in the book. If you can't figure out what Sirius's scars are from, you're soo behind. Please review. Here's to 2011!
-Hatter of Madness