Painted Scars // WOLFSTAR

Winter Break, 1973

TW- brief panic

—

In Sirius' experience, he found that many people would often tend to regret the decisions they would make. He, however, never entirely agreed with that philosophy. In his mind, regret was one of those things that should be saved for middle-aged white women, not for young boys who didn't know a thing about the world. In his mind, every decision, however poor it may be, could be spun into a positive light.

Like that time he brought a football into the Black Manor and kicked it into his grandmother's urn. Sure, he'd ended up with one hell of a scar down the line of his left arm, but he was at peace with the knowledge that his awful bitch of a nan's rest was interrupted, at least for a short while.

There were also those times when he was caught rooting through his parent's various friend's medicines cabinets while they talked about Lord Voldemort in the kitchens below him. (It was a nasty habit he ought to break, but he couldn't resist taking a peek whenever he visited a new home. It would be the same cycle each time; greet the homeowners, ask to use the restroom, snoop.

He didn't like the habit of his, as it reminded him of the slimy type of things his mum would do to gain an edge, but it was like there was an invisible string connected to his fingers that would make him do so. The only home he'd entered and did not feel this awful urge to snoop was at James', though he wasn't sure why that was.) After each of those times, he'd end up with some physical pain, but at least he knew that Mulciber's father struggled with high blood pressure, and that was, in the end, beneficial.

Probably.

It was this moral of his that made it so he couldn't find it in himself to regret bringing Remus and Marlene together, despite how annoying they'd become as a couple.

Take now as an example, as they sat next to each other for breakfast with their hands intertwined on the table like it was a publicity stunt.

"I don't see why you can't come along too," James was saying to a butt-hurt Peter. "I thought my invitation to you was unspoken!"

Every now and again, Remus would move his thumb–really, twitch would be a better word–against the fleshy part of Marlene's index finger, and each and every time she'd look up at him with a secret smile that he would return.

"You invited Remus and Sirius both to stay for break without even a question toward me!" Peter replied, voice pitched high and strained.

The smile was really what aggravated Sirius the most. It was one of those thin-lipped ones that didn't even really look genuine. If she was happy that Remus stroked her finger, then she should give a real smile, not one of those plastic ones that didn't mean anything.

"Pete, mate, you live a street down from me. It's a given that you're invited over for break! My mum would be gutted if she didn't get to see you!"

Merlin's sake, would they just move their hands down off the table? Sirius was trying to eat, he didn't need to see the two of them hand-fucking in front of his breakfast. He could hardly even focus on the conversation because of it.

"You mean it?" Peter asked, always looking for reassurance.

"'Course I mean it!"

"Sirius, are you alright?" Remus cut into the frustrating conversation, acquiring all of Sirius' attention at once and allowing the quick-building anger to drain out of him like a freshly-unclogged drain. "You look sort of... Well, I don't know what you look like."

It wasn't often that Remus couldn't detect Sirius' feelings by looking at him. For Sirius, it was impossible. Remus had so many complex thoughts that he didn't even try to breach, but it was rare for it to be the other way around.