Chapter Text
Remus John Lupin. It was a fine name, mostly because he picked it himself. It made him inexplicably happy when he got to hold his new passport and rub his thumb over the stately black letters: Remus John Lupin. The name was truly his now, and no one could deny him that anymore.
It had made him just as happy to fill in his beautifully chosen new name in various forms for countless appointments with doctors, surgeons and psychologists. Together they built the body to truly reflect who he was within the flesh. He had already gotten on testosterone in his late teenage years, but the biggest change happened recently. A specialised surgeon removed his god-awful breasts, leaving only two long scars on his chest.
For most of the time it was fine, really. During the day he obviously wore a shirt, so no one could notice the scars, but still he felt a little ashamed going to the beach or any other space where he could walk shirtless. And still those scars kind of pissed him off before he went to bed or when he undressed to take a shower. He knew he shouldn’t mind it, and James had told him to be more confident, but if anyone could ever see it, they could immediately guess his history, and then they’d know he hasn’t always been Remus John Lupin, and then the prejudice and discrimination happens.
He only ever opened up about this fear to his best friend James. He knew he was supportive, because he had stayed with Remus from the very beginning. James had given him his first short haircut on a drunken evening in a dimly lit bathroom at a house party one of his friends had hosted; he had been on speed dial when Remus came out to his parents -luckily he didn’t need to call-; he had joined him to doctors appointments and waited in waiting rooms; and most importantly: he had talked. Whenever Remus feared or doubted something, he could count on James to show up and talk him through it. Remus wasn’t sure if there even were more understanding people than James Potter to grace this Earth.
“If you don’t like them, change them”, he had suggested as if it were the obvious solution.
“It’s not like I can customize my body and choose for them to just magically disappear, Potter.”
James stood up from the armchair in Remus’ tiny apartment to stand right in front of him as if he wanted to prove a point. He rolled up his sleeve an revealed a beautifully inked stag, antlers crashing across his arm like branches from a tree. It was fine work. If the artist had painted it on a canvas or printed on a shirt, Remus would have probably bought it. And James definitely knew how good it looked. Ever since he got his arm inked, he walked around in short sleeved shirts way more often, as if he wanted to get all the worth out of his money by parading his stag arm around.
“What does that have to do with my problem, Prongs?”, Remus asked.
James laughed. Merlin knew why. James very often found an excuse to laugh but not when it concerned serious problems of his friends. “You really never noticed?”, he almost yelled, high-pitched, in between laughs.
“Noticed what?”, Remus begged to know. “Your tattoo? Yes of course I saw that.”
“No…”, James said calmly before he stretched out his arm towards Remus. “Feel.”
Remus was unsure where James was going with this, but carefully he placed his hand along his arm and gently rubbed his thumb across the jagged black antlers. They had more texture than he had expected. Small, fine lines made their way across his arm. They were scars, and the ink just followed along with them, hiding them, making them something else, something beautiful.
Remus felt his mouth fall open in shock. Suddenly he felt bad. James had always been there to listen to his problems, but somehow, Remus had no clue what his best friend had been going through. “James, I never knew…”, he uttered.
“Don’t be sorry”, James said, but all the previous happiness had left his eyes, “that was a long time ago. I chose not to tell you.”
“But still, I should have noticed something was wrong. When was this?”
James raised his shoulders as if it really weren’t important. “Doesn't really matter. As I said: years ago.” Then James did a neat but scary trick only James Potter could really pull off: in a fraction of a second he completely changed his face from the sadness invoked by his memories to the most happy expression Remus had ever seen. That alone just told him how fake half of his smiles and laughter were. “A great buddy of mine covered it up”, he declared cheerily. He works a couple of blocks from here. I could take you there someday.”
“I don’t know, Prongs. I don’t think a giant stag on my chest will be the solution I’m seeking…”
“Not a stag!”, James exclaimed slightly offended. “That’s my thing. You pick something you like; if you’re fond of the idea that is…”
“Show me that arm again?”, Remus asked politely. He didn’t touch it again. He just followed each and every jagged line with his eyes. They fooled him. If he hadn’t felt the scars himself he never could’ve guessed they were there. Whoever this artist was, Remus had to admit he did a wonderful job. For a moment he believed it to be magic. Remus imagined himself with such an artwork on his chest -black ink hiding his two long and ugly scars-, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around anything else than some blurred figures, nonsensical lines or really just blotches of ink. “I don’t know what I should get”, he then said.
A smirk appeared on James’ face as he looked Remus straight in the eyes. “Shall I let you in on a little secret?”, he asked unnecessarily solemn. He didn’t wait for Remus to respond. “I had no clue either”, he declared, “that’s why this artist is so good at what he does. He really knows his clients and helps them pick something that truly fits them.”
Remus frowned. “Just how much did that thing cost you, Prongs?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that…”, James dismissed.
“I’m not rich like you! I can’t afford to spend thousands of galleons on some ink.”
“Then I’ll pay for you”, James suggested, but Remus wouldn’t accept it. If he let James pay to fix every single thing he wanted fixed in his life, the whole Potter family would be broke by Friday, and Remus also genuinely didn’t want someone else to pay for any changes to his body. As much as he trusted James, it still felt like giving autonomy away.
“It’s my body, James”, he said, “whatever I do with it is my responsibility. You don’t have to pay for that. I’ll just plunder my savings. I have a steady income now; one big investment can’t hurt that much.”
“Are you sure?”, James asked.
“Yes. Damn, Potter I’m sure”, Remus snapped, “If I let you pay, then whose tattoo is it really? And whose body? I don’t care how you think about it, but I need to do this myself.”
James went quiet like a scolded kid. His sleeve fell back over his arm and Remus started to feel bad. “James, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted”, he quickly tried to fix, but James waved it away and pulled that fake smile over his face just as swiftly.
“His workshop is at 24 Park Street. Call me if you want me to join you.”