Truths

By Neurotica

Two

The werewolf called Moony paced around the cold, hard basement waiting for them to come. For five years now, he'd waited. It was obvious that Moony had yet to accept two of his friends were dead and the other rotting away in Azkaban, as good as dead.

So, every full moon, Moony waited.

The human half of him knew they would never again come, and he tried to make Moony understand this. Every time, though, Moony would lash out at himself, leaving his human counterpart bloody and bruised at moonset.

Tonight, Moony knew it was different. He'd picked up a familiar scent. However much he'd been told otherwise—that it was impossible—tonight was different. He howled for his friends to join him. Why were they making him wait? Moony looked out the small, rectangular window and saw the sight he'd been waiting for all those years.

For a moment, wolf and rat simply stared at one another, neither quite believing what was standing before them. Moony's eyes were wide with recognition; Wormtail's eyes were wide with fear.

He'd been noticed.

As fast as his short legs could carry him, Wormtail fled into the forest, cursing himself for his stupid, careless mistake.

Moony began to howl once more. He became furious at Wormtail for fleeing so quickly. He'd waited for so long, and his friend had left him once more. Why?

In his misery, he began to scratch and bite himself, enjoying the taste of his own blood.

After a few more hours of self-mutilation, the werewolf collapsed to the floor.

The moon had finally waned and the sun began to rise. As the rays of the sun hit him, Remus John Lupin awoke. The night before had been worse than he could remember it being in years.

Bloody and bruised, Remus carefully rose from the ground, wincing from the pain of his many self-inflicted injuries. Slowly, Remus staggered to the top of the basement stairs to the kitchen, and finally to the bathroom. It took much longer than it should have. He began to gather the potions, bandages, and healing creams he would need to dress his wounds, and collapsed to the cool bathroom floor.

Wormtail used to do this for me in the mornings, he thought suddenly.

Wormtail?

Remus struggled to remember the night before. He remembered Moony howling for Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. That happened every full moon. But there was something else. Something much stranger...

The window.

Wormtail was at the window!

No! Wormtail is dead, he thought furiously.

But the scent, Remus, there's no confusing the scent, said another voice.

I was imagining it. There is no way Peter could have been here last night. Black killed him! he replied to himself.

Maybe Sirius didn't kill Wormtail, the voice continued. Maybe it was all a set-up...

"NO!" Remus yelled, his voice echoing off the bathroom walls.

When the voice said no more, Remus continued to dress his wounds. Once he'd finished applying various pain and healing creams, and swallowing a variety of potions, Remus pushed himself from the tile floor, stumbled across the hall to his bedroom, and collapsed on his bed.

Sleep followed in minutes.

While Remus slept, Wormtail sat in the forest wondering what had possessed him to look into that bloody window.

He knows! He knows! the rat thought over and over again.

He'd have to do something. Surely Remus was smart enough to realize what he'd seen and in no time he'd have Dumbledore and Merlin knew who else after Wormtail.

He was in trouble, he knew it. He'd have to go... fast!

But something was pulling at him. Wormtail had heard his friend's—no, my former friend's, he corrected himself—howls of pain just hours before.

And before he had time to realize what he was doing, Wormtail was scurrying back to Remus' small cottage. The kitchen window was left open (for owl post, the rat thought), and he ascended up the side of the cottage and into the window. He searched the kitchen for any sign of Remus. The coast seemed to be clear, so Wormtail hopped from the ledge to the floor.

He slowly crept through the cottage, searching for Remus, though he wasn't sure why; he'd stopped caring for the well-being of his so-called friends years ago. Once he had the Dark Mark, they hadn't mattered anymore.

Or so he'd tried to convince himself.

Wormtail knew deep down, that if it hadn't been for Remus or Sirius or James... well, he would have been nothing. Not that he felt like anything within the group. Sirius would always tease him; he was constantly the butt of jokes. And on many occurrences, he was the victim of prank experiments. In short, Wormtail had always felt underappreciated within the Marauders.

This was one of the reasons he'd joined the Dark Lord's cause. As a Death Eater, Wormtail was something other than James Potter's lackey. He was important; he gathered information concerning the Order the Phoenix and passed it to his master. The Potters had become an obsession to his master, and Wormtail, being so close to them, had an advantage the other Death Eaters didn't have.

The night he had become Lily and James' Secret-Keeper was one of the greatest in his short life. Wormtail finally had something to please his master—something that would undoubtedly gain his admittance to the Inner Circle. That night, Peter Pettigrew had done something not even Lucius or Bellatrix could have achieved: He'd delivered the Potters to the Dark Lord on a silver platter with a pretty bow on top.

But we all know how that turned out...

Wormtail wandered through the hallway of Remus' small home. He looked into the bathroom briefly, noticing bandage wrappers, potion bottles, and open jars of healing creams. Next he looked through the crack of Remus' bedroom door. Remus lay there with his legs dangling off the side of the old tattered bed.

Wormtail sighed. Must have been a rough one if he couldn't even get into bed properly, he mused.

Wormtail climbed the blankets onto the bed and carefully walked to Remus' unconscious form. His breathing was steady; he was asleep.

And Merlin, could Remus sleep. He'll probably be out until tomorrow morning.

Wormtail walked back to the edge of the bed and jumped off. He thought for a moment and transformed back into his human self for the first time in five years. He shook his head at his own obvious stupidity.

Carefully and quietly, he moved Remus fully onto the bed, placed a warm blanket over his former friend, and whispered, "Sorry, Moony, I had no other choice."

With a sigh, Wormtail turned to leave the bedroom. Maybe Remus would have some decent food in the kitchen...

"Wormtail...?" a quiet, hoarse voice said.

Slowly, and with eyes as wide as saucers, Wormtail turned back towards Remus' bed. Remus' eyes were still closed and he hadn't moved an inch.

Maybe he'll just think he was dreaming, Wormtail thought hopefully.

Without hesitation, he transformed, once again, into the rat and fled from Remus' cottage. He'd wasted too much time, and if he stuck around any longer, he'd risk being caught. He could only hope Remus really would believe he was dreaming...

That afternoon, Remus had been dreaming. He dreamt he was at Godric's Hollow, at James and Lily's home. The scene wasn't one that he'd recognized as a memory, though, and when he'd walked into the familiar living room, none of the people there acknowledged his presence.

James and Lily sat together on the sofa, while Sirius sat across from him in the armchair he normally frequented in the Potters' home. They seemed to be discussing something of great importance.

"James, you know I would die for the three of you. You're the only family I have. Hell, you're the only family I have ever had," Sirius said quietly, unable to look the other two in the eyes.

James nodded, but said nothing as he stared at the floor. Sirius continued, "Look. Voldemort is going to know you've chosen me as your Secret-Keeper. There is no way around that; it's too obvious. And you know that I would never—for all the galleons in the world—give him information willingly." He paused. "But Prongs, he has ways of getting it out of me. He could use Imperius... or he could just kill me," he said matter-of-factly. "I don't want you to think I am saying this because I am afraid for myself. I am not afraid of dying. It's you I'm afraid for. You and Lily and Harry. You three are most important." Sirius sighed and waited for a response.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, James spoke, "What are you trying to say, Sirius? You don't want to be our Secret-Keeper?"

Sirius winced at the painful expression James had in his eyes. "James, I think if you and Lily made someone less obvious your Secret-Keeper, then you would have a better chance at coming out of all this rubbish. Of course, we'd still make it seem that it was me. That way the real Secret-Keeper has a better chance. It's the perfect bluff."

Lily cleared her throat, glanced at James, who was looking at his feet, and back to Sirius. "Okay, Sirius, let's say we agreed to this. Who would you recommend as 'the perfect bluff'? Remus?"

Sirius shook his head. "No way. I've already told you my theory on Remus." Lily rolled her eyes; they'd discussed this millions of times, but she didn't say anything. "No. Peter. Peter should be Secret-Keeper." Sirius waited for their reactions with a triumphant look upon his face.

James and Lily stared back at him with raised eyebrows. "Peter? Peter Pettigrew?" James asked, clearly confused.

Lily shook her head and muttered something that strangely sounded like "Sirius has lost his mind."

"Yes!" Sirius said enthusiastically. "Think about it! Who the hell would suspect you to trust Peter of all people with something this bloody big? Nobody, that's who! Not one, single, solitary person would think you would put Wormtail in a position like this." He smiled in satisfaction and sat back in the armchair with his hands folded behind his head. "The perfect bluff."

Suddenly, the scene changed. Remus was still in the Potters' living room, but it appeared to be a different day. Little Harry was asleep in Lily's lap, and instead of Sirius in the armchair, it was Peter.

Peter was holding his wand, beads of sweat dripping down his face, and it seemed as if the three adults had just made a life altering move for all present.

"Well, Pete," said James. "You are our Secret-Keeper."

Peter's face held the biggest grin Remus had ever seen him wear.

"Y-Yeah... I guess I am. I can't believe you guys trust me enough—"

Lily cut Peter's reply off. "Peter, if we didn't trust you, you wouldn't be here," she said simply.

Peter nodded, deep in thought.

James stood from the couch, clapped his hands together, and said, "Well, guess you better be going, eh?" Peter stood next to his friend. "Now, listen. Padfoot's going to check up on you around the first. He said he might come by on Halloween, but he's not sure yet. Just keep yourself off the radar, okay, Pete?"

Peter nodded again. "I will, Prongs. Don't worry about anything. You guys are safe with me. I'll take care of you." He stuck his hand out for James to shake, but instead found himself being embraced by one of the best friends he'd ever had.

"Take care, Peter," James whispered.

Peter returned the hug, which ended shortly after. He then turned to Lily, who handed a sleeping Harry over to James. She had tears in her eyes, and also pulled Peter into a hug. Before releasing him, she whispered, "Thank you, Peter," and kissed him on the cheek.

Peter couldn't seem to find any words to say. So instead, he nodded, and left the Potters' home.

Remus awoke in a cold sweat late that night—1:42 in the morning by the bedside clock. And all he could think of was how real the dream had seemed.