Author's Note: The uncensored version of chapter four of this story is available out of general circulation, in that other section of the library. Be sure to bring a note from your professor.

In a dank alley between two deserted buildings, a large black dog lay curled in the shadows. He was a large dog, but he knew how to travel unseen, how to hide in the ellipses of the human gaze. He had been waiting in this alley all day, but he would wait all night if he had to. He was a patient dog.

Suddenly the dog's ears swiveled. He could hear the steps a block and a half away, and he slunk further into the shadows behind the rubbish cans. In another minute the short figure of a man came around the corner and, with a quick look around, darted into a darkened entryway opposite the dog's alley. The man fumbled with keys for a long time. At last he slipped inside, with a last wary glance at the street behind him. The dog watched, and waited.

After about fifteen mintes the dog ambled across the street to the deserted lot beside the building the man had entered. He trotted to the industrial metal rubbish container up against the side of the building and gingerly picked up a broken piece of wood in his mouth. It was crusted with rusted nails. He dragged the piece of wood along the side of the bin so that the nail made an eerie, screeching sound. Then he began to bang rhythmically against the bin, alternating this with more of the screeching. In a few minutes he heard the sound he wanted: the heavy front door was scraping slowly open. In a flash the dog ran around the back of the building and emerged on the other side while the man was still hesitating in the doorway. The dog froze; waiting, hoping.

At last the man performed the longed-for action. He pulled the broken piece of brick lying beside the stoop into the crack of the door to prop it open and made his way carefully to the other side of the building to inspect the deserted lot. Quicker than thought the large lean dog was inside the building and trotting up the stairwell, letting his nose guide him. Up three flights and at the end of the hall. Sad, strident voices floating up from the floors above and below. Crying children, angry women. The dog could hear them all, but blocked them out.

The door was slightly ajar. The man must have been very afraid, or very foolish. He nosed his way inside, more carefully now. Bare and bleak, lit only by a single swinging light bulb on a chain. But the smells- the dog dropped to his haunches, momentarily overcome. The odours were confusing, and told him things he did not want to know and many things he did not understand. Only a few seconds to decipher them now. He could hear the man puffing and swearing on the stairs. The little bathroom opened directly into this room. The dog ducked behind its open door and waited. He heard the thud of the building's front door and the careful click of its many locks. He listened for the footsteps and counted. One, two, three, four, five. Now.

In a graceful arc the dog leaped at the man, pinning him against the wall with his powerful forearms, which had become the strong wiry arms of Sirius Black. With a wrench the wand was out of Pettigrew's hand and aimed at his own throat.

"Good evening, Peter. And how have you been keeping?"

"S-S-Sirius. Wh-What are you doing? Please, please don't hurt me. Don't hurt me, I beg you. Oh Sirius, Sirius," the man collapsed into broken sobbing.

Sirius jabbed the wand viciously into his throat. "Shut up, you miserable excuse for breath. Here's the way this is going to happen. I'm going to ask you some questions, and if you please me, your death will be painless. If you displease me, I will stop asking questions and start torturing you. It would be a simple matter to set a silencing charm on this room, Peter. No one need be disturbed by your screams. We could take all night. Believe me, I have the time. Why, Peter," he sneered, glancing downward, "didn't your mother teach you to use the toilet? I do believe you've pissed yourself, you pathetic coward."

Pettigrew's only answer was more sobbing. Sirius grabbed him by the nape of the neck and pushed him into a chair in the center of the room, never removing the wand from his neck. "Sit."

"Oh please, Sirius, you don't understand-"

"That's why we're going to have this little time together, Peter. So that we can come to an understanding, you and I. Now, let's begin. Tell me exactly what you had to do with the death of Severus Snape."

"S-Snape?"

"Don't stall for time, or I'll get bored. No, wait, I know what we can do. Quietus," he said in a louder voice. "Now we can really get to business. Crucio."

Pettigrew's body arched off the chair and would have thrashed on to the floor had not Sirius held it firmly in place. After ten seconds had elapsed, Sirius pulled the wand away. Pettigrew collapsed backward, heaving and whimpering.

"How was that, Peter? I have a confession to make. I've never actually done that to anyone before, so I don't know how it's supposed to go, really. But I have to tell you, it felt pretty damned good." He tapped the wand on his chin, considering. "Shall we try it again? I might be able to do better. I'm a quick study, I promise."

"No! Oh God, please, please. . ."

"Stop your blubbering. Now tell me if you had anything to do with Snape's death."

"No, I swear to you, Sirius, I would never, never- I promise-" He broke off, sweating, as the wand jabbed him in the chin again. "That is- unless- you were happy to find out-"

"Shut up, worm. Crucio." He released the Cruciatus after only five seconds this time, but evidently he was getting better at it. Pettigrew was reduced to quivering jelly.

"All right, let's try a different tack. I'm going to ask you a series of questions, and you are going to make an attempt to give me honest answers, no matter how displeased you think I might be. Only complete honesty, no matter how difficult the question. That's going to be your only chance here. Do you understand me? Nod yes or no."

Pettigrew managed a nod.

"Right then. Let's begin. We're going to take a little trip back in time, Peter. All the way back to when we were in school together. The beginning of seventh year. Are you with me so far? Good. Now answer this question for me: how did you find out I was sleeping with Severus Snape?"

Pettigrew was no longer capable of registering surprise. He licked his lips, never taking his eyes off Sirius. "After the first Gryffindor-Slytherin match of the year," he whispered. "I was coming to the Quidditch shed to tell you James was treating the whole team to butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks. I looked for you but couldn't find you. When I went to the shed, I saw- I saw-"

"Don't be shy, Peter. Tell me what you saw."

"You- you and him- still in your Quidditch robes. He- you were kissing him, like he was a girl. I- I was disgusted, how could you. . .rub up against him like that, like some kind of pervert?" His eyes flicked nervously away, as though he were afraid he might have gone too far, but Sirius betrayed no emotion.

"That's very good, Peter. You did very well, really you did. But you didn't run away, did you? James said you never showed up that afternoon either. Tell me, Peter. Did you stay to watch? You did, didn't you?"

"Y-yes," Pettigrew croaked. "I couldn't look away, it was awful. I saw everything, the way you touched him, the way you let him take off your robes. . .and then you. . .you. . ."

"What? What did I do?"

"You put your mouth on- on his privates," he said in a rushed whisper. "You sucked on him and made him- made him have an orgasm right- right in your mouth. It took so much longer than I thought it would. And then you- you-" Words seemed to fail him.

"Go on Peter. I'm very pleased with you. What then?"

The encouragement seemed to be all that he needed. "You pulled off the rest of his clothes and turned him around and- and you had sex with him like he was a girl. You put your- yourself up his bum and had an orgasm, I saw your face, I know you did. And he- he did too, another one, I could see that one- I could see it, and you touched him, I saw that too-" he broke off, panting for breath.

"Did you like that, Peter? Did you come watching us?"

He closed his eyes and nodded, tears leaking out of his scarlet face.

"I'll bet you hated yourself for that, didn't you? Hated it and loved it. I'll bet you thought about it when you touched yourself." Pettigrew whimpered. "Tell me the truth, Peter. Those things you saw me do with Snape. Did you want me to do them with you? To you?"

Another barely perceptible nod.

"Yes, I'll bet you did. And I'll bet you thought you might have a chance of it if Snape were out of the way, didn't you? Or was it not even that, Peter? Did you just destroy it because you could, because it was just one more thing you didn't have, a continual reminder that I didn't want you and never would?"

The tears were streaming freely from Pettigrew's rheumy eyes now, and his lips were working.

"So you went to him and filled him with the cruelest lies you could think of, things you knew would make him hate me, things you knew would cause him to push me away and hurt me as bad as he had been hurt. And the night he sent me away with my heart ripped to shreds, you were there waiting, weren't you, with a plan to get back at him. Oh, you were such a friend. You never asked me why I was suddenly so eager to get Snape. You knew he would probably be killed or worse. And would have been if James hadn't stepped in."

Sirius paused, idly twiddling the wand between his fingers. "So let's see, where does this leave us? You destroyed the only real love I have ever known, you betrayed my best friend to a gruesome death, and you sent me away for twelve years to the worst hell hole on earth. Well, the botched job of that last wasn't your fault, really- you would have made it the rest of my life if you could have."

Pettigrew had recovered himself a little during Sirius's speech and appeared to be doing some quick thinking. "Sirius, please- I've answered all your questions. Please, listen to me now. I've been a fool, I know that. But I have something to tell you. . ."

"Shut up. We're not done. What about Severus's life, hm? Your little stunt drove him straight into the arms of Lucius Malfoy and the Death Eaters. You made him easy prey for them. You would have destroyed his life, too, if he hadn't been too clever in the end to fall for the same cant that you did. You're weak, Peter, and he never was. You're a weak, pathetic worm of a man, and I'm looking forward to cruciating you to death. Now let's go back to my first question. What did you have to do with his death?"

"Nothing, I swear it!"

"Did you see it happen?"

"No, but-"

"Why not? Does Voldemort not trust you any more? Is that why you're holed up in this tenement, hiding with all the other rats?"

Pettigrew looked uncomfortable. "You don't know what he did to me, Sirius. Please let me tell you. Please listen to me."

"No! There'll be no more listening to you, Wormtail, unless it's to hear your screams. I'm really going to enjoy those. I bet you'll even beg for mercy, won't you? Not like him. I'll bet he never did. You're going to die now." He rammed the wand under his chin hard enough to leave a bruise and hissed in his ear. "Why are you looking like that, Peter? Do you really not believe I'll do it?"

"They'll put you back in Azkaban," he whispered.

"Oh no, I don't think so. You attacked me. Everyone knows about you now. No one will believe it was anything but self-defence. Besides," he laughed bitterly, "do you think I care about Azkaban any more?"

"You won't do it."

"Really. And why is that?"

Pettigrew's eyes went yellow with cunning. "Because you want to see Severus Snape alive again, and I'm the only one who can help you."

Sirius froze. "That's not going to work, Peter. No lie, no matter how much I want to believe it, is going to help you here. I should come clean with you. Make a clean breast of it, as someone I know said recently. I was always going to kill you, Wormtail. And it was always going to be as painful as I could manage." He aimed the wand directly at the other man's groin. "Now, what should we start with?"

"Wait! Wait! I tell you, he's alive! I have him!" Pettigrew's words spilled out in a frantic rush. "I found out he was a double agent for Dumbledore, but I didn't go to my master, oh no I didn't, I don't share the secrets I learn, I keep them for later, I do. And this one was the best ever. I took him at the last Death Eater meeting- he would never suspect poor little Peter to be capable of it, would he? And I put a concealment charm on him, the strongest ever, I've been practising them you know, so that I'm the best at them. I know that hiding is the best, always the best, never fighting and war. So I hid him, and I'm going to Dumbledore with my prize, and he's going to take me in and protect me, he's a man of his word, he won't let the Dark Lord have me any more, and I'll be safe, safe forever."

His speech had drained the last from him, and he was now sobbing and hiccoughing freely, like a little child. There was no more artifice or cunning in his fat tear-streaked face. Sirius watched him in silence. Could a concealment charm, even a strong one, have deceived a vivisphere? He honestly had no idea. But it was plain that whatever Peter was spouting, he at least believed it to be the truth. Padfoot inside him began nosing at the room's smells again, trying to puzzle out what they meant. He had thought Pettigrew had brought Snape here to torture and kill him. Could it be- He allowed himself a quick glance around the bare room. No one was living here. This was a safe house. How could he not have seen it before?

"Where is he, then? Speak up, Wormtail. I'm waiting, and my patience is wearing thin."

But Pettigrew had sensed his advantage, and would not yield it. He shook his head. "No. This charm is special. Only I can undo the spell, even if you could find him before he starved to death. I'm the only one who knows how. It's a very good spell." He looked proud of himself, like a schoolboy who knows his final project is a success.

"All right," Sirius began slowly. "You want to go to Dumbledore, then to Dumbledore we shall go. Get up, let's go."

Pettigrew hesitated, and started to stand. "A-All right, Sirius. But first please, let me go to the toilet. I'll go with you wherever you want, I promise."

Siirus nodded. "Make it quick. Though how your bladder has anything left in it, I don't know."

Pettigrew shuffled off to the bathroom, the wand following his back. Sirius could see him through the open door fumbling at his trousers. He edged closer to keep Wormtail from getting any ideas. Peter was still fiddling with himself as he came back out of the bathroom, and Sirius allowed himself a small smile of amusement at the memory. Peter always took such care arranging his three-inch penis. In the next instant the smile was gone as a blade sliced across his forearm with vicious strength. He was ready for the next one and turned so it caught his shoulder, protecting his abdomen. He reached a hand up to catch Pettigrew's wrist but found the blade had dipped down to slice his thigh open.

The fucker's maiming me. Slicing, not stabbing. Damn it. There's too much blood. He slammed his body against Pettigrew's, trying to use his greater weight and strength to throw his opponent off balance. For a moment it seemed to work, but then the blade caught him in the upper chest like fire. His fingers were getting slippery with his own blood, and too late he heard the wand clatter to the floor. Like a flash Pettigrew was on it, triumph on his sallow face. Sirius slumped to the floor, clutching his wounds, trying to hold his hand over the arterial nick in his thigh, trying to calculate how much time he had.

Pettigrew was shaking his head. "You should know better than to come afer me, Sirius," he crowed. "This is twice now you've botched it. Now I get to be the golden boy, for once. I get to take my prize to Dumbledore, after I've wiped his memory clean, of course, and tell the tale of my daring rescue of his beleaguered agent. Too bad I couldn't save you too, Sirius, but I'm only one man after all. And I'll still be a hero, like I always should have been."

He turned to the bathroom and pointed his wand at the bathtub, muttering a long stream of incantations at it. Slowly, a figure began to take shape in the bathtub. Through the growing haze of his eyes, Sirius recognised Severus Snape lying chained to the tub, his robes a tattered and grimy mess. He appeared otherwise unharmed, though, and he yanked on his chain furiously, his eyes fixed on Sirius.

My God, thought Sirius, it really was true. It's good to see you again, Severus, really it is. You're looking well. Sorry I couldn't have done a better job of this. He tried to say something but found he couldn't. The room had started to blur at the edges. Apparently bleeding out did not take long at all.

"Imperio," Pettigrew commanded as he released Snape's chains from the wall with a wave of his wand. Snape rose with hatred in his eyes and stepped forward, chest heaving. "Come with me now. No, don't look at him. We don't have any more time for him. Come on, quickly now." He jabbed the larger man in the back with his wand sharply, and that momentary jolt in the stream of the spell was all that Snape required. Like lightning he lifted his still chained hands and wrapped the chain around Pettigrew's neck, tightening and twisting until the shorter man began to kick convulsively with his feet. Watch out, Sirius tried to call. He's about to-

And then Pettigrew was gone, and there was only a lame rat scurrying for the hole in the baseboard. Snape tried to fling himself on him but missed. No, no, it will never work. You need- With his last strength Padfoot hurled himself across the room and landed on the rat. He took him in his mouth and broke his back with a sickening crack, shaking him wildly, then ripped off the creature's head. He was about to start ripping the rodent open when the blackness took him, and he knew no more.