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When he didn’t plan to leave the dorm for the day, Remus dressed as he wanted to, regardless of what the others might have thought.
When he was going to class, he wore the uniform perfectly. His shirt was crisp, tucked into his slacks, tie was tied into a neat Windsor, Hogwarts cardigan, robe on top, white socks with dress shoes. On the weekends, he wore his sweaters and slacks or jeans, whichever the occasion called for. He changed before heading down to breakfast and didn’t switch outfits until after dinner.
But when the days hit where he ached to his bones, his head pounded, he itched everywhere, and even his hips were sore, he put on his softest flannel bottoms and t-shirt, snuggled under his quilts, and gave up on the world.
On days like these, not even James tried to convince him to come down for meals or games or pranks.
On days like these, he didn’t have the capacity to fret about his scars showing to the world.
Back in fourth year, long after the others knew about his furry little problem but before they joined him on the full moons, they had yet to see his scars. He was careful to wear sweaters, button down shirts, jumpers, robes, or cardigans at every moment. But one of the days hit.
Sirius checked on him every five minutes of course.
“Moony. Moons. Mooooonyyyyy. Remus. Remus. Remus.”
“Not now Pads.”
“But Remus-“
“Padfoot cut it out.”
“Remus! It is a lovely day outside! Granted, a bit cloudy, tad bit overcast, actually, not too beautiful, but! I’ll have you know the the giant squid loves a bit of rain, and—“
“Sirius!” Remus finally pushed his covers off, sat up and looked at Sirius in the eye. “Knock it off. I’m not going anywhere.”
The humor faded from the boy’s face as he saw Remus’s look, and turned blanker as his eyes found remus’s arms. “Moony?”
Looking down to find his scars exposed, Remus quickly shoved his arms beneath the covers. Sirius reached and grabbed his upper arm before letting go as if he had been shocked. His hand hovered questioningly over the edge of the cover, and he didn’t even make eye contact before turning the quilt down and delicately pulling Remus’s arm out.
For a few moments, Sirius traced over the scars on Remus’s arms. Too many long years had passed, countless moons, and the silver scars scattered across his body ranged from so small you couldn’t even see them, only feel, to rough, raised scars wider than two fingers.
Sirius finally looked up at Remus, the boy with a story to each scar. The blank slate remained, with the addition of an odd shimmer in his eyes. On anyone else, Remus would say it looked like unshed tears, but Sirius Black does not cry.
“Shove over then,” Sirius climbed into Remus’s bed, separating himself from the young werewolf’s arm only long enough to get settled. Once comfortable, he started to trace the scars on his friend’s arm again.
They sat there in silence for a handful of minutes, facing each other with one curtain still open, Remus under the quilts and Sirius on top. James was serving yet another detention, Peter on a walk with his current girlfriend.
“You—“ Sirius cut himself off, clearing his throat. They sat in silence, Remus only growing more anxious as seconds ticked by. “You don’t know how strong you are.”
Remus sat in confusion and shock. “I—“
“Shuddup Moon. You don’t. You go through life with so many factors against you, and yet. You’re the brightest bloke in the school, you’re the funniest here. Yeah yeah, Prongs and I are hilarious, but your dryness is just killer. And despite your furry little problem, you pull through every day of school minus one a month to excel and all the while, you’ve got these scars to remind us all of your strength, your bravery, and you hide them because you think they make you weak.”
Here, Sirius looked up for the second time, a couple tears escaping despite his best wishes. He didn’t say a word, just sat with Remus the rest of the hour, eventually closing his eyes and taking a nap.
Remus tried. He really did. He tried to muster up a response to Padfoot’s words. He tried to be angry, to want to protest this pity. He tried to express how lost he felt, how he had nothing if not for his friends, for Sirius, and what is bravery or strength worth if it isn’t shown through James’s deflections around the full moon, through Peter’s willingness to make a fool of himself to distract Remus from the pain, through Sirius’s life story thus far. He tried to insist that if he has ever been brave or strong it is only because he saw Sirius do it first. A couple times he opened his mouth and immediately lost the nerve. Eventually, not long after Sirius, he fell asleep.
(Later that night, James barged into the room, Peter in tow, to discuss his latest plot to win Evans. Upon finding Sirius and Remus asleep on Remus’s bed, fingers laced together, Sirius’s feet in Remus’s lap, he of course took a picture, but shushed Wormtail and resolved to leave them be.)