October 14, 1973
"Wait, Sirius, don't-"
Peter was, as usual, ignored. Sirius took a running start then launched himself through the only set of drawn hangings and onto Remus' bed. Someone, most likely Remus, gave a cry. Silence reigned for a moment before a low growl rumbed through the room, originating from the bed.
"Uh, Remus?" That was Sirius, "Wha - what are you doing?" He sounded nervous. For once. Peter sighed, resigned to their fate, and sat back to watch the fireworks.
In the next instance, Sirius gave a yelp and scrambled off the bed, pursued by Remus, who wore only a pair of loose trousers. He didn't even seem to notice. At Peter's left, James took in a sharp breath. Peter didn't even have to look to know his eyes would be locked on the multitude of scars littered across the smaller boy's skin.
"By Merlin and Morgana," James murmured, shocked.
It was mostly slashes that shot through Remus's back, chest, and arms, though Peter saw two old burn scars beneath the mess. The marks created a lace on their friend's pale, lean torso. No one should have marks like that, especially not any child. Somehow Peter doubted that this was something abnormal for someone like Remus. He snuck an idle glance at James and wondered if they'd figured it out yet.
Remus had finally managed to catch Sirius. What was amazing about the scene was the fact that Remus was mostly using his body weight to pin Sirius, for all that he was the lightest of the four. And getting to be the shortest too.
The scarred back was turned to them, so Peter couldn't be sure what exactly Remus did. Whatever it was, it most certainly did make Sirus shriek like a little girl, no matter how many times he insisted it was a manly yell when they ribbed him about it later.
Apparently satisfied by his revenge, Remus got off Sirius and stalked back to his bed, disappearing through the hangings. Sirius sat up as he went, rubbing the side of his neck, which was a little red, and watching the tiny slip of a boy who'd bested him warily.
Into the ensuing quiet, Peter, picking at the loose thread in his sleeve, said, "I told you he wasn't a morning person."