moon scars

He'd seen the scar, of course, the darkish rosebud of discolored skin, there at the juncture of neck and left shoulder. That was nothing new. In the disarray of robes, stripping and toweling down after a particularly rainy autumn Quidditch practice, they'd all seen quite a bit of each other. Sirius had been wildly curious then, openly staring. But Remus had averted his eyes, with that Remus half-smile, and pulled on his pajamas, covering the sharp half-moon scar with a carefully upturned collar. And though the four of them had stayed up half the night talking, Sirius had gone to bed without asking. It had taken him nearly half a year to get the other boy to laugh out loud; he wasn't going to risk another semester of Remus' silence over some silly scar.