Scars

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By spoopyghostbones  in AO3 I think

Remus's eyes were brown. In the hazy morning light, with the rays filtering through the half-covered window they hadn't bothered to close properly, Remus's eyes were a light, honey brown.

Sirius wondered how he could ever have forgotten.

The love of his life was watching Sirius as intently as Sirius was watching him. They were lying, side by side, Sirius's head tucked into the crook of Remus's shoulder, in Remus's small bedroom in his new flat in London. It had been twelve years – twelve long, grueling years in the belly of the second coldest place Sirius had ever known – but finally he was home.

His fingers traced lazy circles on Remus's bare chest, flitting over the freckles and beauty spots and scars – Merlin, had there always been so many scars? – that he couldn't remember. He was ashamed, and he vowed to memorize every single detail about this man beside him all over again. The gaps in his memory were molten.

"Pads?" Remus's brow crinkled. The shadows cast by his face made him an achingly beautiful sight to behold. Sirius's heart tugged. Remus stroked his side, his hand rippling over the ribs that were all too prominent. "Sirius, what's wrong?"

Sirius realized he was crying. He sniffed and looked away, towards where his hand had found a cluster of beauty spots in the center of Remus's chest. He tapped each of them in turn; there were twelve of them. Their shape was familiar.

"It's Canis Major," Remus said softly, and Sirius met his eyes again. Remus's cheeks were flushed, and tears seemed to be brimming in his eyes as well.

"I know," Sirius said, because he did. It was the one thing he could never forget while in Azkaban – the one thing the Dementors never took from him. His mother's lessons. His fingers found the Dog Star – the one he was named for. It was right above Remus's heart.

Remus's hand came to rest on top of Sirius's.

"I missed you every day," Remus whispered. Sirius met his eyes but kissed him gently in lieu of a reply. Most days he hadn't remembered to miss Remus at all.

They stayed like that for a long time, just lying side by side and making up for years lost. Eventually Remus stirred, rousing Sirius from the light sleep he had fallen into. It was always light – paranoia never allowed for anything more. The dark bags under his eyes attested to the fact. In a split second of panic, Sirius grabbed at Remus.

"I'm not going anywhere, Pads," Remus said softly, forlorn eyes meeting Sirius's desparate ones. "I just want to draw you a bath."

Sirius's heart was still beating a mile a minute, but he managed to croak out a small, "Take me with you."

Remus's face crumpled, and he leaned down to kiss Sirius's forehead gently. "Always."

Sirius was weak, and malnourished, and gaunt and distraught and everything in between. Remus's heart cracked at the sight of the once proud man – the man who had fought for himself and everything he believed in, who had valiantly clawed out from under his parents' thumb, who had in spite of all he'd known and been taught managed to befriend Remus and Peter and ¬– and James. The man who had gone to a ruthless and unforgiving prison for a crime he did not commit.

Remus led them down the hallway, Sirius leaning hesitantly on his arm as if he were afraid Remus would disappear if he pushed too hard. That only made Remus grip Sirius's hand tighter. They made it to the bathroom and Sirius lowered himself to sit on the edge of the tub. Remus reached around him to plug the drain and turn the taps on, and Sirius flinched at the sudden sound of rushing water.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry Pads," Remus said, reaching to comfort Sirius. He froze when Sirius flinched away, eyes wide and scared. He whispered, "I would never hurt you Pads, you know that."

Sirius didn't seem convinced, but he nodded slowly anyway. He kept a weary eye on the taps the whole while the tub filled. Eventually Remus shut the water off and came to sit beside Sirius on the edge. Sirius dragged his eyes away from the taps to regard Remus steadily.

"You need a bath, Sirius," Remus said, taking in the grime on Sirius's clothes and hair and skin. Sirius glanced down at himself and seemed surprised to find the state he was in.

"I do," he said simply.

"Do you want me to leave-"

"No!" Sirius cut him off, panicked. "No, no please don't."

"I won't," Remus said, heart cracking further. "Merlin, Sirius. I promise you I won't. I never will again."

Sirius accepted that and fell silent again. Remus filled the empty air by swirling the water in the tub to check the temperature.

"Do you want me to help you?" Remus asked, watching Sirius's face carefully.

Sirius considered for a moment before nodding, not meeting Remus's eyes. Remus reached for him and Sirius flinched for a moment. Remus froze immediately.

"I – sorry," Sirius said, hoarse. "It's... force of habit." He met Remus's eyes finally and nodded almost imperceptibly for him to continue.

Slowly – painstakingly slowly – Remus helped Sirius strip and lowered him into the bath. Without the baggy uniform on, Sirius looked even worse for wear. If Remus wanted to, he could have counted every bone in Sirius's body. His skin was stretched and pale, highlighting the scars.

Merlin, the scars. Long, short, small, big, continuous and tapered, they ran all over Sirius's body. Most were ribbon-like in appearance, familiar in their shape and positioning. Then Remus found the scar he didn't realize he'd been looking for. There, on Sirius's left shoulder, just beneath his collarbone, was a circular scar puckered by tooth marks. Remus was on him in a second, hand poised right above the bite that meant Sirius had endured something far worse than Remus had thought.

"When did you get this?" Remus asked, surprised to find his voice deathly quiet. Sirius was staring at Remus's hand where it was hovering.

"Three years in," Sirius whispered, meeting Remus's eyes. They weren't honey anymore, now there were flames flickering in them.

"Who was it," Remus asked, pulling back. He ran his hands through his hair and huffed, turning away. The anger was palpable. "I swear I'll fucking kill them."

"I did," Sirius was quiet. Remus turned to face him again.

"What?"

"I mean I... I asked someone to bite me."

Remus's heart dropped to his shoes. "What?" He asked again.

"Remus you don't understand," Sirius looked away, drawing his knees to his chest. "You don't understand what it was like there, every single day, living among those... those things. Every day they took more and more from me, more and more of you from me." He lifted his arms out of the water to show Remus the skin from his wrists to his elbows. There were dozens, if not hundreds of small crescent-moon shaped scars running the length of his arms.

"I used these, first," Sirius continued. "Every time I was starting to slip, or I felt like I was forgetting something, I cut another one." He fingered the scars as he spoke. "But then there came a day where I didn't know why I had done this, what any of these meant. And that day I knew I had to do something more drastic." He met Remus's eyes again.

"So you fucking turned yourself?" Remus hissed, and Sirius didn't flinch.

"Yes," he said simply. "And after that, I was reminded every month why I was where I was – who I had lost, and who I was surviving for."

Remus looked down and noticed the lack of vertical scars down Sirius's wrists. If he had something to cut the crescent scars with, that meant he'd had something that would have ended everything. But he hadn't. Remus's heart tore in two.

"Sirius," he sobbed, reaching out to cup Sirius's face. He leaned into the touch. Remus stared down into the stormy grey eyes of the man he loved, eyes that had seen far too much and yet far too little for his age. The scars mapped on his skin told a story of anguish, of pain and of regret. Remus knew the story well. And now, Sirius knew it too.

"Sirius," he said again, voice filled with emotion and words unspoken. "You could never lose me."

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