the cadence of part time poets

Chapter 49: Well Fitted in Arts, Glorious in Arms

A teenager's romance is fickled or true,
A teenager's romance is red hot or blue;
You're either in misery or high on a crest,
A teenager's romance is like all the rest...
- "A Teenager's Romance" Ricky Nelson, 1957

Saturday 12th February 1977

Getting a girlfriend was supposed to solve everything. It was supposed to help things make sense, and most of all, it was supposed to take his mind off of Sirius Black's bloody stomach. Stomach, stomach, stomach—ugh! WHY stomachs?! He had no clue. And yet, all it had taken was for Sirius to roll out of bed all bleary-eyed and shaggy-haired with his pyjama shirt unbuttoned to his navel to cause another incident. Remus had stayed up late with a regular bout of restlessness and forgotten to close his curtains again, so when James' alarm clock went off early that Saturday morning he turned over to throw a pillow at him, only to catch Sirius upside the head with it as he crossed the room.

"Woah, bit early to be declaring war innit, Moony?" Sirius moaned, tossing the pillow back with a grunt. Remus caught it and didn't miss the way Sirius casually reached beneath the hem of his shirt to scratch his stomach, yawning as he continued on to the bathroom.

James turned over in his bed and smacked his hand over the alarm before fumbling for his glasses. "What's this about war, lads?"

"How dare you set an alarm on a Saturday," Remus hissed, as James popped up from bed with all of his usual vigour.

"Sorry, Lupin, got practice early today. Snow's finally melting some so I'm taking the team on a run."

"Bet they'll love that." Remus flopped back into his pillows.

"I'd say you should join us," James said, tugging off his nightshirt and tossing a towel over his neck, "but it looks like you've already got your hands full this morning."

Remus raised his head in question and James shyly pointed to the tent in the front of his night pants. Instantly mortified, he reached for his bed curtains and yanked them back while James quietly sniggered.

It wasn't that he was terrified of his own nob or anything—living with three other blokes meant you got used to waking up every now and then to find your friend had popped a woody—it was just the ridiculousness of it all. If you'd have told a girl you got off on seeing her bare stomach you'd certainly be branded a freak, and it wasn't even the only instance he'd found himself indisposed in front of others either—Marlene had once put her hand on his inner thigh while snogging and that had been enough to leave them both blushing. But why stomachs? They were just skin! Really he was lucky Sirius wasn't the exhibitionist James was, though now he supposed he knew why.

Sirius had not bridged the topic of his scars since that night in the bathroom and Remus figured that if he wanted to talk about them he would. It wasn't his place to push him into anything, and a part of him was almost afraid to do it. No normal injury left scars that deep. The only thing that brought comfort was that the burns seemed old, and he could only hope that whatever had happened, had truly been an accident.

"Oh, Remus," James called through the bed curtains, "I don't mean to interrupt—"

"Piss off!"

"—But did you happen to ask Xeno about that sherry last time you saw him?"

"Potter—Piss. Off."

"C'mon Moony, it's for Valentine's! I need it to impress Lily."

"..."

"Moony...?"

"... Yeah, s'fine, he can get it."

"You're amazing, you are! Say hi to lil' Lupin for me."