Padfoot and Worm Tail
Peter Pettigrew paced nervously in the dingy motel room he had rented just over three days ago. He had decided to hide in plain sight amongst the muggles - hoping against hope no one would think to look for him there. He knew it was foolish, Sirius will come eventually, he kept thinking. A part of him believed, or rather wanted to believe, that the Dark Lord would get to Sirius before Sirius got to him - but of course, the Dark Lord was dead, or so they said...and his old schoolmate had a dogged, no pun intended, he thought, obsession with James Potter...
Just the thought of the name left him nauseated and, for the 3rd time that day - and the umpteenth time since he had gone to the Dark Lord - he had to run to the small, filthy bathroom and wretch in front of the toilet. The Potters were dead. He did not like thinking of the role he played in it - What choice did I have? He would constantly ask himself, the Dark Lord would have found me eventually, tortured me...what choice did I have? To think about the fact that he had been the one to search out Volde - the Dark Lord, he corrected himself, was simply too much for the small, beleaguered man hugging the rust-colored basin to fathom. It was a painful, and therefore nonexistent, memory.
Eventually, Peter hauled himself up from the bathroom floor and was debating whether to take a shower - there was no hot water in the room and a part of him felt like he deserved some sort of punishment, like wearing his sick would make up for his actions. I didn't have a choice, but maybe this helps make it a bit fairer, he would say to himself. Just as he was deciding a quick rinse could not hurt, a voice sounded behind him in the room.
It was cold, high, not the voice of Sirius as he had been expecting. Hello, Peter, said Voldemort. Peter realized the voice was not coming from the room and was actually inside his head - it was, to his surprise, painful, as if his skull had been split open and a giant speakerphone had been rammed inside. He screamed.
Voldemort chuckled, I am trying something new, he said, I thought you'd make a lovely little lab...rat. He said this last word with emphasis, as if savoring the effect each letter would have on the man he was speaking to.
"M-m-my Lord?" Said Peter, his voice almost squeaky and quivering with fear. There was no answer, and just as suddenly as the pain had come, it subsided.
Peter had not even realized he had fallen to the floor and as he looked around in confusion, still dazed from what he was beginning to think was a hallucination, the door to his room flew open and a handsome, pale man with black flowing hair and a terrifying expression yelled "EXPELLIARMUS!"
Peter's wand, which had been in his pocket, flew into Sirius Black's outstretched hand as Peter cowered in the bathroom doorway before his former friend.
"Finally," said Sirius almost with relief, "you foul, evil thing," he spat, "You thought you could run, did you? You thought I'd let you murder them, James and Lilly?! Harry for God's sake?!" He was crying. It was raining strongly outside and his hair and clothes were soaked through, but it was obvious the drops of water on his face were of his own making. Peter was stunned, he did not know what to say and so he simply whimpered, a pathetic almost non-sound escaping his lips.
Sirius came closer to him and pointed his wand at his chest. Immediately, Peter felt his limbs stiffen and his body begin to rise on its own until eventually he was floating in the doorway to the bathroom, upright and unable to move. "Give me one good reason," said Sirius, his voice shaking with anger, "I shouldn't kill you right now."
At this, Peter felt the blood leave his face - he had always managed to get out of tight situations with his tongue, now he would have to speak for his life. "J-James wouldn't want you to," he managed to blurt out. He realized his mistake in saying James Potter's name aloud almost as soon as he opened his mouth, as all of a sudden he felt something tighten around his throat as if he were being strangled.
"Don't. You. Dare." Said Sirius quietly, which only made him all the more frightening. Peter could only take small, gasping breaths, like a fish caught on a hook, trying desperately to stay alive. Eventually, however, Sirius released his hold and Peter fell to the ground, gasping for air.
"I-I-I-I'm sorry!" He tried to scream, though his raw throat only allowed him a hoarse whisper.
Sirius looked down at him and, before Peter could do anything more, yelled "IMPERIO!"
Immediately Peter felt himself relax, all his fear and worries melting away - except they hadn't melted away, he thought, he just couldn't feel them as his anymore.
"Stand," barked Sirius, and Peter felt his legs move involuntarily, saw his body and felt his muscles working until he was standing in front of Sirius Black. He should be terrified, he knew, and yet he could not bring himself to be.
"Tell me the truth. Why did you give them up?" Asked Sirius, only the slight tremble in his hands giving away the rage he felt.
"I was afraid," Peter heard himself say, SHUT UP, he screamed at himself uselessly, "I was afraid the Dark Lord would find me and so I sought him out and told him where to find James and Lilly."
Sirius sank down onto the small, springy bed that made noise under the slightest weight.
Peter remained standing.
Quietly, without looking at Peter, Sirius asked, "Do you regret it?"
With the bland and matter-of-fact tone common to those under the Imperius curse Peter said, "I feel guilty, yes, but I had to save myself and James lived a good life, a full life with everything he wanted. I deserve that."
Silence. Then, burying his face in his hands, Sirius wept. He let out loud sobs and let the tears flow freely from his eyes. He kept picturing his best friend running through the halls, murdered, getting ready for his first date with Lilly Evans, murdered, laughing with his three - TWO, he thought with anguish - best friends in the entire world before his wedding, murdered, leaving St. Mungo's with Harry in his arms just months ago, murdered. He cried for himself, for James, for Lilly, for Harry would have to grow up without them. But above all, he cried for what he would now have to do to the awkward, pudgy little boy who had somehow managed to charm him, James, and Remus all those years ago.
Peter remained standing.
As suddenly as it had started, the sobbing stopped. Peter could only move his eyes and, if he had been able to, would have widened them in shock at the look of pure pain that was on Sirius' face. Sirius stared back and, without any warning, began throwing curses in all directions, screaming out spells "REDUCTO! RELASHIO! CONFRINGO! INCENDIO!" With every wave of his wand a new part of the room was either burned, slashed, or reduced to dust. The television exploded, the bed and pillows fillings filled the air, the water pipes in the revolting bathroom burst, creating a small flood. Not even the ceiling was spared, a giant hole now visible near the door to the room.
Peter remained standing.
Eventually, after a few minutes of this, Sirius slumped back down onto the ruined bed and surveyed the rodent-like man before him.
Clenching his jaw, as if deciding something, he released the Imperius curse. Not expecting this, Peter crumpled to the floor. His limbs ached and his foot had fallen asleep from standing in one place for so long, but he could move and he was alive - for now.
"S-S-Sirius, p-p-please," he managed weakly.
Sirius looked at him then, into his eyes, and Peter Pettigrew saw only the face of pure hate, hurt, and above all, sadness. I'm going to die here, he thought.
"CRUCIO!" Yelled Sirius as he stood all of a sudden. Peter's whole body convulsed in pain. "This is why you gave up James and Lilly, right?" He spat at Peter whose screams were barely audible due to his bruised throat. Sirius released the curse and Peter was left panting.
"CRUCIO!" He yelled again, and again Peter's body began shaking as he writhed in unimaginable pain. "This is what Voldemort would have done to you?" He said, his voice dripping with disgust. "What? Did you think he'd save you if you helped him? Did you think he'd overlook years of loyalty to Dumbledore and the rest of us?" He actually laughed as he released the curse this time, "As if you know anything about loyalty."
"P-p-lease," Peter whimpered again, "Y-you don't understand!"
"CRUCIO!" Said Sirius again, and for a third time Peter felt his body give way to spasms of hurt. He thought he would black out and in fact felt hot liquid begin to wet his trousers. Sirius continued laughing at him cruelly, his anger and loss having taken over completely. Releasing the curse for a third time, Peter decided he had to try something, anything, but his body was simply in too much pain and he could barely move to lean on the doorframe.
"YOU AND JAMES HAD EVERYTHING!" He said as loudly as he could. Sirius only stared at him pitilessly. "Y-y-you were handsome, t-t-talented, good families, l-l-loved by everyone! And what d-d-did I have, ey Padfoot? W-w-hat the hell was p-poor Peter Pettigrew compared to James Potter and Sirius Black? You never took me seriously, h-hell you only made me s-s-secret keeper because you never thought the Dark Lord would come after me! S-some f-f-friend you were! I did what I had to do to survive and I am sorry about James...I will always be sorry! But y-you don't know what it's lik-AHHHHHHHHH!"
Sirius had once again used the cruciatus curse on him and the last thing Peter remembered before passing out was looking into Sirius Black's eyes and realizing the boy and the man he had known were nowhere to be found.
Peter woke with a start. "W-w-what-"
"Oh good, you're awake," said Sirius sarcastically. They were still in the motel room, Peter still lying in the bathroom doorway. The room was in a shambles, the ceiling groaning worryingly.
"Sirius, I -"
"SILENCIO!" Sirius bellowed, and the words died on Peter's lips, "Now then, Peter, here is what's going to happen. I haven't told anyone that it was you who gave up James and Lilly."
Peter was surprised by this, but of course he could say nothing.
"You see, they'd send you to Azkaban."
Peter's eyes widened in terror - he'd heard enough stories about the wizarding prison to know what awaited him there.
"Hell, they might even give you to the dementors." At this, Peter actually began to cry silently, it was an odd sight that almost made Sirius laugh, the other man's mouth opening and closing soundlessly as if trying to blubber yet unable to do so.
"But you see, Peter, that's too good for you...No, I think you need to suffer a bit more than that. They say the kiss is...unpleasant," Sirius shrugged, "but frankly I can think of some rather unpleasant," he said the word with a small, malicious smile, "things myself."
At this, there was a loud creak from the ceiling that made Sirius look around nervously, as if somehow just realizing where they were. Setting his face, he said "Get up."
Peter did not need to be under the Imperius curse to realize Sirius was not asking. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as his tender body would allow him.
"Now get in front of me," said Sirius, and Peter did so. "We're going to take a little walk into the woods behind this place and disaparate together. You try to run, I kill you, you try to attack me, I kill you, frankly you do anything that remotely pisses me off and-" he stopped, the other man's expression making it clear he understood. "Walk," he barked.
Peter turned slowly, his back to his captor. He felt a prodding with Sirius' wand and jumped as he felt the sting of a small spark. Realizing he had no choice, he advanced towards the doorway.
Just then, as they reached the entrance to the room, the ceiling above them gave in. The next few moments would change the course of these young wizards' lives forever.
Sirius barely had time to raise his wand and mutter a small protection spell before being engulfed in a smattering of wood, concrete, and plaster. Peter, however, saw his chance and threw himself through the door at the last second. As he looked back at the wreckage he thought about his options. He could run...but, no, Sirius would never give up. He would find him. No...Sirius had to be handled.
At that moment, possibly for the first time in his life, Peter Pettigrew had an original thought.
He ran towards the wreckage of the room and grabbed Sirius' hand as soon as he saw it emerging from the pile of rubble. He began pulling Sirius up through the debris, the confusion on the handsome man's face obvious. Peter paid him no mind, however, and as the top half of Sirius' body emerged more completely from the mess, Peter saw what he had been looking for: Sirius' wand grasped loosely in his other hand. He grabbed at it quickly and before Sirius knew what was going on, Peter had taken it and, still clinging to Sirius' other hand, disaparated them both to - is this Shaftesbury Avenue? Thought Sirius, as he looked around incredulously, stumbling as they landed with the neon lights of the advertisements and the sudden glow of the street lights blinding him - a moment ago he had been under a load of crap and now he and Peter were...PETER, he remembered suddenly.
Rubbing his eyes, he tried to get his bearings. Muggles were passing by in huge numbers, some of them clearly beginning to notice the filthy and oddly dressed men who had just appeared out of thin air. To his surprise, Sirius did not have to look far, as Peter stood right in front of him...is that my wand?
"YOU BETRAYED LILLY AND JAMES POTTER TO THE DARK LORD!" Yelled Peter, loudly enough for more passersby to stop and stare at them, "IT'S YOUR FAULT THEY'RE DEAD!"
Sirius did not understand what he was yammering on about, it was his fault? Then, he realized something was wrong with the other man. Though his vision was still blurry, he could just make out Peter's right hand bleeding profusely, almost as if he'd hurt himself, gotten cut-
Then there was an explosion. Sirius was thrown back with the force of it, the world fading to black all around him.
He awoke with a throbbing headache and a ringing in his ears. Pettigrew, he thought almost instantly. He tried to move, barely managing to sit up, but soon realized his crusade was pointless. He was badly injured and wandless - where's my wand? He thought. All of a sudden he realized the sounds of shouting and crying that surrounded him. There was smoke everywhere, with people milling about and - are they called firefighters? Trying to douse several fires with hoses. Confusion set in as Sirius tried to remember what had happened.
There had been an explosion, he knew that...but was it Peter? He knew the answer almost as soon as he thought the name. That foul little git...of course he did it, but where is he? Then, to his horror, he noticed where he was laying.
In front of him, perhaps less than a meter away, was a gargantuan crater in the middle of the road. It oozed smoke and was almost impossible to make out properly, but it was unmistakably a giant hole in the middle of London. Peter Pettigrew had...what exactly had he done?
Before he knew it, Sirius was laughing. It was not a happy sound, not a laugh that inspired people to join in on the fun. No, this was the laugh of someone who had been so deeply traumatized, so fully left beaten and trampled by the world around him that he felt no other emotion than pure, unadulterated hatred and rage and anguish. It was so all-consuming in that moment, when he'd lost the opportunity to avenge his friend, his brother, that all he could do was laugh like the murderous maniac they would make him out to be.
Albus Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk in his office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when Severus Snape strode in, an odd expression on his face.
"May I help you?" Said the older man, not unkindly.
"No," said Snape, "I just thought you might want the paper," he paused, "Headmaster."
Nearly slamming it on the perplexed Dumbledore's desk, he turned and swept away from the room before the older man knew what had happened. Peering at the folded pages, his face soon became wrinkled with concern. Waving his wand, the newspaper floated up and unfolded in front of him.
Sirius Black Arrested, Accused of Murdering Peter Pettigrew and 12 Muggles in London, read the headline above a huge picture of Sirius' handsome face twisted into an ugly, maniacal snarl as he - laughed? Thought Dumbledore. The article explained that Black had reportedly caused an explosion in the middle of the street after Pettigrew accused him of betraying James and Lilly Potter to He Who Must Not Be Named, as relayed to Ministry officials by several muggle witnesses. Apparently, all that was left of Peter Pettigrew was his right index finger. The Ministry had sentenced Black to life in Azkaban without a trial for the crime and were hailing the arrest as a victory for justice.
Albus reread the article several times, each time growing more and more uneasy. Eventually, he crumpled up the paper and sank back into his chair, sighing. With another flick of his wand, the ball of paper flew into the ashes of Fawkes', his phoenix, stand. The bird, as if sensing its partners' feelings toward the object, set it ablaze in an instant. Gone were the images and the words about the boy Dumbledore had only ever known as fiercely loyal - if a bit of a rule breaker. Removing his glasses, Albus Dumbledore buried his face in his hands and softly rubbed his forehead, acutely feeling his age; a single tear falling down his cheek.
Outside of the headmaster's office, Severus Snape leaned against the door as he awaited the gargoyle staircase to let him descend; a small, yet unmistakable, smile crept along his face.