Strangeways, Here We Come
Conditioning part II…
He hates his scars, and Tonks can fully understand why.
I don't care, she repeatedly tells him. They don't bother her; she still finds him ridiculously attractive.
"I'm not exactly gracing the cover of Witch Weekly, am I?" he laughs wryly, and does his best to keep them covered up. She's seen them all, but sometimes he is still self-conscious around her. It gets her to thinking.
Not only are they a twisted memento of the hurt he has already endured, but they also act as evidence of what he can't outrun, of what is fated to come again the next month. Yet she knows it's not the pain that bothers him the most, but rather the monster that he believes he becomes.
She wishes she could show him that although the scars may mar his skin, they haven't touched the man he is inside. She tells him and tells him, but she can see it doesn't sink in. It is the cacophany of scars crisscrossing his body that catch his eyes in the mirror; they are louder than any words she can utter.
It is unfair, she thinks, that he must bear such harsh reminders of his curse. If only scars came with pleasant memories attached…
…And that thought intrigues her.
One night she grows her fingernails slightly longer than she usually wears them. Later, when Remus cries out her name in the throes of passion (the one time she thinks she might not mind hearing it), she can't help but dig her nails into his strong, sinewy back. He is warm and solid, an anchor she clutches to lest she be lost in the storm of passion that surrounds them.
The next morning he wakes with little half-moon indentations all over his back. She traces them lightly and feels somewhat sheepish, but that disappears when he looks into the mirror and grins at the sight of them.
Night after night he calls her name; night after night she clings to his body, as close and as tight as she can, trying to show him that she finds nothing off-putting about it whatsoever.
In the mornings there is usually some sort of indication of where she has been, whether more nail marks, some small scratches, or a fading bite mark. Remus doesn't avoid the mirror anymore; now he tends to stop and examine himself, never without poking fun at her.
"Apparently you like my scars so much that you've decided to give me some new ones," he teases.
She blushes and apologizes; he always waves it off. She is glad, because she can't bring herself to feel truly sorry.
He still has the occasional moments of self-consciousness, but rarely ever with her; and she has to fight back a grin and a slight flush every time she thinks as to why.
Reviewers can tell Remus just how much they don't mind his scars – in as hands-on a fashion as they feel is necessary! ;)
Toodles,
- ish -