Painted Scars // WOLFSTAR

Year Two: Golden

For the second year in a row, the boys had written ' Happy Birthday Sirius ' across their foreheads, and he found himself becoming fond of the tradition. Of course, the newly thirteen-year-old boy had to pretend like he thought it was dumb–in order to spare his reputation as 'cool guy'–but in reality, he had to cover his smile with a dramatic eye roll because he couldn't keep it at bay.

To Sirius, thirteen was an incredibly monumental age to turn; he was officially the oldest member of the group, as well as the only one entering his teenage years. It also had a nice ring to it, the '- teen' at the end of the word.

"You've got a bit of grime on your head, four eyes," a stout boy in Slytherin robes said coarsely when they entered the Transfiguration room, a laugh evident in his voice. The sight of Peter and Remus' foreheads behind him made it clear to him why the ink was there, and he smiled impishly. "Oh, I see. It's the ponce boy's birthday."

"What? Are you three his boyfriends?" a Ravenclaw girl next to him said cruelly with a snicker. James was not deterred in the slightest and fixed the two with a cheeky grin.

"He's much too good for us," James said like it was obvious. "Well? Are you going to wish him a happy birthday?" The pair rolled their eyes and looked away, unhappy at James' lack of reaction. Sirius nudged his arm indebtedly.

The boys offered him their puddings at dinner that day since they knew he liked it, and he accepted it on the condition of Birthday Tax. They piled his plate for him, poured his juice, and buttered his bread, making a large show of it, and when James offered to sing 'Happy Birthday' to him in front of the Great Hall as he had with Remus, he didn't turn him down.

"Would you wipe that shit off your foreheads already?" Sirius asked with a laugh when Peter scratched at his head and smeared the ink.

"No!" Peter replied adamantly, his mouth stuffed with a bite of something dark. "We can't wipe it off until Midnight!"

"Suit yourselves, but everyone's seen it already."

"It's not for everyone, idiot," Remus replied boredly. "It's for you." Sirius decided then and there that he liked the tradition a whole lot more.

By the time that night had rolled around, the three could barely contain their excitement as they grabbed their gifts for him. Sirius felt on top of the world; he partially wished that every day could be his birthday. He'd get free pudding and lots of attention–two of his favorite things–and he'd get to spend every day with the boys parading around the fact that they were friends with him. When they finally pulled out the gifts, Sirius' heart soared. They were all bags from the stores in Hogsmeade, which meant they were thinking of him as they went shopping.

"Remus, chocolates? I'm surprised you didn't eat them all before my birthday," Sirius teased, shaking the box of candies that he'd unwrapped.

"Don't get used to it. You're getting a pair of my old socks next year."

"Unfortunately for you, that's exactly what I was hoping for," he replied with a cocky smile.

"You're such a weirdo."

Peter got him a trick quill that squirted ink out of the other side–something he'd been eyeing in Zonko's–and Sirius began to plan using it against him. He made sure to store it away from his normal quills, favouring the spot next to his bedside lamp.

He received a poster from James; a big one with a Quidditch player that he wasn't familiar with. He'd said it was to "expand his realm of knowledge in the Quidditch world." Sirius reasoned that he just wanted the poster up for himself.

"Do you want it?" he asked, offering it back to James.

"What? You're trying to pawn off my gift?" he replied, seemingly dumbfounded.