A/N: A fair few 'F-words' dropped in this one chapter. Appropriate given the situation (Voldemort and Sirius) but just give you the heads up.

Chapter 7

It had been a hellish six weeks, but at least it was over. He understood why Dumbledore had requested it and it wasn't as if there were a lot of other candidates. He still couldn't help but feel dirty, ashamed even, to be associating with 'his kind'. Most had become bitter and hateful of the wizarding community, forced to live in the underworld due to the anti-werewolf policies. But then most of them hadn't grown in a loving family, with parents willing to do anything for him. Nor had they been fortunate to be allowed to receive an education. Nor had they been fortunate to have such good friends such as James, Sirius and Peter. He thought sadly of the last two. Their deaths had both hit James and himself hard. He like James had never believed the rumours about Sirius. He knew his friend. He knew his friend would die before betrayed his friends.

"A pint of Doombar, please," Remus said, leaning against the bar. The Windsor Castle, one of the many muggle establishments the Maunders had discovered in their post school years. The war against Voldemort had begun to seep its way into the muggle world, but the muggles didn't know what it was. There had been a few unexplained murders, but nothing really to trouble them. It had probably been the reason the Maunders had sought out the muggle establishments, they could enjoy a drink where the all-consuming that enveloped wizarding world had not infiltrated the muggle world.

He found himself looking around the pub, at its various kooks and crannies; at the oak panels, leading to small rooms, hiding away other patrons. The wolf ears picking up on the various conversations, some of joy, some of sorrow, some of confusion. They sharpened when he heard a familiar voice. A smile found its way to his scarred face. 'James' he thought, at least he could share a pint with his greatest friend before turning in his report to Dumbledore. Another voice joined the conversation. It was softer than he'd ever heard it, but there was no mistaking it.

"It cannot be. It's impossible," he whispered.

"That'll be £2.50."

"What?" Remus stammered.

"Everything alright mate? You look like you've just seen a ghost," the barman asked. "Its £2.50."

"I'm okay, thanks," Remus replied, nodding as he handed the crumpled note over. "Keep the change."

Taking a long salving sip of his pint, he closed his eyes for a moment before looking towards the oak panel. It was impossible. That friend had died thirteen years and nearly seven weeks ago. Taking a breath, he ducked low to step through the low doorway.

"Remus!" James exclaimed standing and greeting his old friend. "Good to see you again mate!"

"Good to be back," Remus managed.

"Hi Moony," Sirius said softy, stepping out from the shadows.

"I-Its, it can't be," Remus stammered, barely aware of James taking the pint from his hand. "How?"

Sirius looked down for a moment as he struggled with the question, but before he could answer he was pulled into a fierce brotherly hug.

"Oh Padfoot," Remus whispered, tears beginning to stream down his face. "You're alive. You're back."

"Remus let the man breathe."

"Oh yes, sorry," Remus said stumbling over his words. He took a moment to look his friend up and down. At the too pale skin. At the too thin frame. But what hit Remus more than anything else was the deeply haunted look in friend's eyes. "Fuck, you look like death warmed up."

"Cheers Moony, you don't exactly look a picture of health yourself," Sirius counted with a grin.

"Piss off Padfoot," Remus replied grinning. "Oh Sirius thank god. Just, wow, you're alive."

"So, what have you been up to?" Sirius asked cautiously as he sat down.

"Hanging out with my 'own kind'," Remus said darkly.

"I'm sorry Remus, I didn't-"

"No Sirius, don't worry about it," Remus replied waving his hand. "I don't like it but it's necessary. We can't let what happened before ever happen again."

"But there's got to be another way!"

"Mate, how many werewolves do you know?"

"Good point"

"Sirius, do you know what happened to Peter?" Remus asked.

"U-mm, I-I got to go to the toilet," Sirius said as he staggered up and stumbled towards the doorway.

"Sirius?" Remus called out.

"Let him go," James said placing a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Let him go, he needs his space."

"What? What did I say?" Remus replied looking utterly bewildered.

"It's not your fault, you weren't to know."

"What is it? It's something to do with Peter, isn't it?" Remus demanded. "Did Sirius see Peter die?"

"No," James said darkly. "Peter betrayed us."

"What?" Remus exclaimed, confusion etched across his features. He took a moment to observe his friend. "Peter did that to Sirius?"

"He certainly played apart"

"Why?" Remus hissed, feeling anger bubbling very close to the surface.

"He was our secret keeper remember? You know the Fidelius Charm was never broken, Sirius never broke. He never gave our location to Voldemort."

"Fuck! He looks like death warmed up."

"Trust me; he looks a hundred times better than he did."

"I'm going to kill that rat," Remus growled.

"You're going to have a hard job doing that, he's serving a lifetime sentence at Azkaban," James explained.

"Sorry about that," Sirius said softly as he slowly walked through the doorway.

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for," Remus said rising to meet his friend. "Shall we get some food? I'm bloody hungry and you look like you need a decent meal."

"I don't think they serve raw steaks at this establishment," Sirius said with a grin. "We could ask if they do a steak tartare. We can hang out at the next full moon as well."

James and Remus exchanged glances for a moment. "No," Remus started. "Not next full moon, but the one after that sure. You need to get your strength up before we do that again."

"I just want things to go back to way things were before any of this shite happened," Sirius mumbled into his hands.

"I know mate, so do I. But the full moon after this one, I promise we'll do it together. Me, you and James," Remus reassured.

"Thanks Moony," Sirius replied with a small smile. "So, shall we order this food or not. I'm bloody starving."


"Are you sure about this?" Dumbledore asked again, holding a small vial of silvery gas substance.

"Yes," Sirius replied determinedly.

Dumbledore nodded. Stepping forward he poured the substance into the Pensieve. "Sirius are you ready?" Watching Sirius nod, he dived into the silvery liquid.

Sirius closed his eyes tightly as the familiar, decaying stench invaded his senses. The sound of dripping water running down the walls felt like daggers to his mind.

"Sirius, are you okay?"

Sirius blinked his eyes as the hellishly familiar slime covered brick walls assaulted his vision. He felt pile rise in his throat, he knew it was just a memory, but it felt so real.

Sirius sat in the corner of the darken room, his knees drawn tightly to his chest, waiting for the enviable. He would never give the information Voldemort seek. He would never betray his friends. Hearing familiar footsteps, footsteps that shouldn't be associated with this place, he slowly raised his head. He winced as the door at the end of the cell was swung open.

"Up! Get up," the short blading man wheezed.

"Why? Why Wormy?" Sirius asked unmoving.

"He's going to kill you. Just give the Dark Lord their location. He'll spare your life."

"Then he'll just have to kill me. I'll never betray my friends, I'd die before I did," Sirius said fiercely.

"Why? He'll kill you, and then he'll find and kill them. Tell him and he'll spare your life, you can ask him to spare their lives," Peter wheezed.

"No! I'll never join him. I'll never sell my friend out to Voldemort. I'd rather be tortured every day for the rest of my life, than betray them," Sirius hissed. "Peter, what happened to you? You used to be a good person. You can still do the right thing. Get me out of there, and I swear we will protect you. I'll protect you. You were just scared. You're a good person, Wormy."

"No, I was just weak," Peter replied looking at his friend in sick, twisted way. "I gave you your chance, but you didn't listen. Cruico!"

Sirius collapsed to the damp, grim covered ground as an invisible force took hold of his body. As if several people were taking his body and twisting it in multiple directions, whilst stabbing him repeatedly with white hot knives. He clenched his jaw tightly, fighting the urge to scream. He refused to give them the satisfaction. He knew he was going to die. He knew he would never see his friends again, but he was never going to let them break him.

"So, you finally decided to join in the fun."

Violently shaking his drew his knees up to his chest as he tried to take ragged breaths. The curse may have lifted but the effects still lingered. Now to add to his hellish situation, his deranged cousin had turned up.

"Little cousin, I hear you are denying the Dark Lord," Bellatrix Lestrange breathed in a high pitched giggle.

"That makes two of us. Does the Dark Lord deny you his body?" Sirius counted with a grin.

"Fuck off!"

"Oh, I hit a nerve? He thinks his half-blood body is too good for you? I guess that hits a nerve. Our family taught us pure bloody is equal to nothing and then there is him, a half-blood, denying you Bellatrix Lestrange, a pure-blood, sex. You want to bare his children, but he won't even look at you. He has his eyes on that muggle, rather than you."

"Frangeretur," Bellatrix hissed.

"Oh, I think I really did hit a nerve," Sirius winced as he felt a couple of ribs break. A small bead of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "You want to bare his child, but he won't even look at you, let alone touch you. He considers some muggle woman, more womanly than you. He considers her blood purer than yours."

Sirius curled his hands into fists and drew his knees to his chest as the first wave of pain hit. It was true; you really had to mean it when you cast an unforgiveable. Wormy's curse had hurt but nothing like Bellatrix's and Voldemort's, well that took it to another level.

"Bella, leave him," a cold, high voice asked entering the room.

"Yes, sorry master," Bellatrix whispered, sweeping out of the way. "I tried master, I promised I tried. I tried to make him talk."

"I understand," Voldemort replied sweeping into the room. "Mr. Black have you considered my proposal?"

"Yes," Sirius breathed. "And you can fuck off. I'll never give you James' location, never you fucking half-blood."

"Cruico!" Voldemort said, the words slipping off his tongue as though he was ordering a mug of tea. "Now Mr. Black, where are the Potters?"

"What kind of name is 'Lord Voldemort'?" Sirius tautened through clenched teeth, as the curse felt as though it burned through every fibre of his body.

"Cruico!" Voldemort yelled, his face flashing with fiery rage. "Where are the Potters?"

"Fuck off!" Sirius gasped, trying to suck down vial oxygen after the latest attach. He refused to let anyone, especially Lord Voldemort get to him. He was never going to let in break him. He was going win. Well, maybe he wouldn't survive, but at least his job a secret keeper would be fullfilled. His whole life he had wished for a family and when he was sixteen, after one the most hellish situation of his life, he had finally found his family. The Potters had taken him in without question and he wasn't going about to forget that sacrifice. "Fuck off scum. Fuck off you bloody half-blood. You might as well kill me. I'll never betray them. I pity you, as you you'll never understand true friendship."

"Cruico!"

The pain was more intense than he had ever experienced. He couldn't breathe; it felt as though his limbs were going to be ripped from his body. He closed his eyes as he tried to think past the pain, at the happier, the happiest times of his life. His friends had their whole childhood to rely on, but he didn't. Hogwarts and the brief three years afterwards were his. He though back to the full moon nights. Nights when they were careless, when they were free. "Never!" he hissed.

"Why?! I could offer you a seat on my right hand," Voldemort said in the same cold voice. "I just need to know where the Potters are!"

"Fuck off! You might as well kill me; I'll never give their location. Just fucking kill me!"

"Fine, have it your way," Voldemort replied. He looked at the bloodied man for a moment, knowing his efforts would continue you to be fruitless. "Avada Kedavra"

Sirius took what he thought would be his final breath. He didn't want to die, but if it was going to be anyway, he would choice this, die defencing his friends. He felt an explosion and the force slamming him against the wall. A blinding green light invaded his sight, then nothing. He heard a terrible, painful scream before he watched a ghostly smoke rise from the pile of ropes where Voldemort had been standing. He heard shouts from the death eaters and a gut-wrenching scream from his cousin before the image became black.

"Sirius, Sirius, we can go now."

With more strength than he thought he could muster, he pulled himself out of his memories. Standing on solid ground for a moment, he looked at Dumbledore before his stomach rebelled and he emptied his stomach into the nearest flower pot. "Fuck, sorry, I'm sorry Dumbledore. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Evanescet," Dumbledore said looking at the pot dismissively. "I don't think you have done any worse than my care for the poor thing."

"What the hell does that mean? What the hell happened?"

"You survived-"

"Fuck it. I know I fucking survived it. I watched my own fucking memories. The bloody bastard performed Avada Kedavra on me. There's no known counter curse. There's no known block. No one has known to survive it. How the fuck did I survive it when I could barely breathe?! How the fuck did I kill Voldemort?!"

"Sirius," Dumbledore said sitting down next to the younger man. "I'm sorry I don't know. I will find out though. What are you going to do now? Talk to James and Remus?"

James, he thought, his greatest friend. He would suggest Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey but he knew no answers would come from those people. Remus, a kind, so misunderstood. Remus would start quoting books and numerous other references. No, as much as he loved and needed his friends, he knew he needed someone else. He needed someone objective. "Moody," he whispered.

"What?" Dumbledore asked.

"I need to talk to Mad-eye."

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. Cheers Betty.S for the note on the correct spelling of Moody's first name. I've read the books enough you would've thought I would have picked up on it. I guess I will have to read them again