Painted Scars // WOLFSTAR

Year Two: That Tuesday

For a twelve-year-old boy with very little patience, waiting until Tuesday was a challenge. It was nearing the end of September when the full moon would light up the sky, and Sirius could finally figure out what was hurting Remus. Somehow, the week he had to wait felt longer than the entire summer.

Sirius had little doubt that his friend was a werewolf. In his mind, everything made sense. But he couldn't accuse Remus of something so incriminating without proof, so he waited, counting the days as time ticked closer to Tuesday night. When it finally rolled around, Sirius wanted to ensure he did everything right.

In retrospect, he probably should've left Remus alone on the day of the full moon–he knew how bad werewolves' mood swings could become around that time–but Sirius didn't want Remus to feel alone. So on that Tuesday, he stuck to Remus like glue.

"Let me get that for you," Sirius suggested that morning, piling the boy's plate high with all the breakfast food at arm's length. He made sure that he had enough sustenance to withstand the transformation that night, (which he still wasn't entirely sure was going to happen,) and poured Remus a glass of pumpkin juice.

During History of Magic that day, he offered Remus his notes. "Yes, I was actually paying attention!" Sirius defended at his friends' question. "Just take them, they have all the right information." Though he insisted, Remus ended up refusing them.

"Oh, you're going to the library? Let me join you!" he said, later that night. For the entire day, Sirius made sure that he wouldn't have to spend his moon day alone. At first, Remus seemed grateful, but by the fifth or sixth favour, he stopped saying thank you. Instead, he hummed a quiet noise each time, sounding increasingly annoyed as the night went on. "Shoot, I forgot my library book in the dorm, can we turn around?"

In Remus' defense, he was taking the shadow with great stride. For a while.

"I'm gonna go shower," he'd said to Peter and Sirius, before making his way out of the portrait in the common room.

"Wait!" Sirius said, jumping up and jogging after him. Remus took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'll come with you!"

"No, that's alright. I can make the walk by myself."

"I think I ought to!"

"Sirius–"

"Just let me come with you–"

"Jesus, Sirius! Give me some space, please! You've been following me around like a lost puppy all day, what is your problem?" Remus snapped, making Sirius take a cautious step back and throw up his hands. He hadn't meant to bother him, really. He'd just wanted to help.

"I'm sorry," Sirius breathed. Perhaps he had been a bit overbearing, though not his intent. Remus' back relaxed when he saw the regret in his eyes, and he rubbed an anxious hand across his face.

"No, don't be sorry. I shouldn't have yelled, I'm just having an off day," he replied ruefully, taking in Sirius' demeanor. When Remus saw that he still hadn't lowered his hands, he walked over to him with a sigh and wrapped his hands around his wrists, lowering them carefully. Sirius' skin buzzed at the pressure against his pulse points. Then, Remus did something utterly bizarre; he stared into Sirius' eyes as though deciding something, before knocking the front of his forehead against his shoulder and staying there. He stood there awkwardly, his arms by his sides and his neck bent in an arc, and Sirius tried his best not to explode.

"You alright?" he asked nervously, patting his back in an attempt to, what? Cheer him up? Was he even upset? Remus was not the type for affection; at least, not that Sirius had seen, so he couldn't help but feel relieved when he lifted his head back up and give him a smile that looked a bit off.