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Summary: James, Sirius and Peter learn the truth about Remus. Or, the fall of Peter Pettigrew. Oneshot. Big spoilers through OP, and I suppose a few small ones for HBP.

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, of course. If only….


Sirius was the one who figured it out. For all his careless arrogance about class work, the truth was he couldn't stand not knowing, not being involved. He nosed into the affairs of his friends possessively, determined to ferret out every last detail. Peter wasn't sure why Sirius had to know the exact layout of his house, how his mother sat in the rocking chair reading the Prophet while his father did the dishes, but he appreciated the interest. His relatively boring life came bubbling out and he told Sirius all about his first accidental magic, unraveling the itchy sweater even as his mum tried to force it over his head.

Sirius listened to the story with his eyes closed, but Peter knew he was listening. It was Sirius's sharp questioning which revealed the Pettigrew family's secret; Peter's father was a Squib. Peter knew the secret was safe with his new friends. Apart from some sympathetic looks they never mentioned it, and never, even in the midst of one of their spectacular fights, did any of them suggest that was why Peter was magically weak.

Peter wondered about it though. A lot.

Remus was quieter. They'd thought him all to be a terrible stick-in-the-mud until the day when James was cheerfully knocking over suits of armor in the West secret passage and one of them cleared its throat and politely asked him to stop and James nearly fainted of fright. After the suit extracted James's promise to stop it also advised him that he snored and that his joke about the veela, vampire and giant in the pub was entirely unfunny.

Once James got over his shock he couldn't stop laughing and badgered Sirius about how he'd charmed the armor. Peter was a little annoyed James didn't even suspect him but didn't say anything. Sirius denied everything and then he was the one who noticed Remus hadn't turned a page in a while and there was a little smile playing about his mouth.

When Sirius asked increasingly pointed questions, Remus gave a partial answer, or changed the subject. It irritated Sirius. A lot. James was the leader and he liked Remus, and though he wasn't the leader, Peter backed him up. Truth be told he often thought Remus was quite a bit nicer than James or Sirius, but he wasn't nearly as exciting. Anyway Sirius was closer to James than Peter had ever been to anyone and he always gave in and let Remus join them. And Peter could tell he (Sirius) liked Remus too, when he forgot to be suspicious.

As for Remus, he never paid any attention to the little verbal barbs Sirius sent him. Peter was sure he was aware of them, and wasn't sure why he pretended not to notice. Peter supposed he had some terrible secret, like maybe his father beat him and underfed him and that was why he was always so pale and worn. Peter desperately wanted to know the secret too but he supposed if Sirius couldn't pry it out of Remus, then Peter had no hope of doing so.

Remus was away again. "Family business," he said.

Sirius asked artlessly, "Your mum O.K.?" The flimsy lie had collapsed well before the end of first year and after a few abortive attempts to find another Remus settled on his current non-explanation. Now he gave Sirius a steady look until the other boy looked away, picked up his bag and left.

Sirius was always irritable when he was reminded of The Secret and he stalked off not long after, saying he was going to the kitchens, and James said, "Sure you are," and gave Peter a little smile. They both knew he was going to mope about the library looking at The Encyclopedia of Magical Ailments and try to get into the restricted section again. Peter loved that little smile because it was a joke that only he and James were in on and even now three months into Second Year he could hardly believe he had an inside joke with the most popular boy in his year.

Then James went back to looking at plays in his Quidditch book—he'd made the team as a reserve Chaser but as he told the others, he was pretty sure that Arnold Speck would drop out soon to focus on his NEWTs. And Peter went back to his Transfiguration essay. Transfiguration was best class, though he was pretty good at Herbology too. And Remus would probably fail Potions without him. Though, to be fair, Remus was responsible for him passing every class outside those three. It was annoying, he thought as he flipped a page, that his friends were all so smart they made him look just average at Transfiguration. James only brought his text to class to doodle Quidditch players in it, and Sirius had yet to open his. Remus did study, but usually only had to skim the material (if he'd been in class) or read it three times at most (if he'd been absent). Eventually he finished his essay and pulled out his Herbology book and a Sugar Quill. He only had a few left but he'd just owled his mum asking for more, so… he chucked one at James and James grabbed it out of the air one-handed without ever looking up. "Thanks." Peter grinned and started his reading.

He was only a quarter through the reading but nearly half done with the Sugar Quill when Sirius stormed in, eyes pale and glittering, waving a book around and talking so fast even James didn't seem to follow. Peter thought he heard Remus's name here and there in the rant.

"Sirius!"

Sirius stopped shouting. "What?"

"Slow down."

James looked amused but Sirius didn't and Peter felt just a little bit uneasy.

Sirius started pacing. His words were short and clipped. Somehow the movements looked wrong—jerky or something, Peter thought. He could almost see energy crackling off Sirius and realized the other boy was very upset.

"Connie Wordruffe was talking about how some star or other should be aligned tonight and they should go out on the ground to take a look. She said maybe they could get extra credit in Astronomy."

"Sinistra never gives extra credit," Peter said morosely. After seeing his Astronomy midterm last year Remus thought it worth a try, but the professor hadn't gone for the idea.

Sirius gave him a look. "They're Ravenclaws, they never give up on that kind of thing. And they do projects like that even if there is no extra credit. For fun." His lip curled a little at the thought. "And anyway, that's not the point at all."

"Right, then," James said. "Because the point is…?"

"The point is, her friend Chelsea said they couldn't because tonight is a full moon." Sirius brandished the book again, and Peter saw that it was the Third Year DADA book.

"And?" he said, feeling lost.

But James was looking at Sirius with dawning horror. "You're not thinking… that's impossible, Sirius."

Sirius looked grim and opened the book. He must have had his finger marking the spot because he opened it to exactly the page he wanted. "You tell me, James. What are the classic signs of a werewolf?"

James pushed up his glasses and recited without really looking at the book, "The beast within will ultimately reveal itself, usually in fits of aggression and violence. It will be hostile and dominant with others, and may kill small animals at any time of the month. Does that sound like Remus to you, Sirius?" But his face was extremely unhappy.

"Try looking at the calendar," Sirius shot back. "At the days Remus has been gone, let's say." And James and Peter didn't even need to look to know they had all been full moon days.

"There may be another disease that falls on the full moon," James said. "Or it's someone in his family. Not Remus—Sirius, you can't honestly think he'd have been allowed to come to Hogwarts if he was one."

Sirius snorted. "If it was someone in his family he'd hardly be visiting home then, would he? And you know the Professors treat him differently. I don't know how he managed a Hogwarts invitation but I sure plan on asking, when he gets back."

"Merlin," James said, looking shaken. "You're right."

Sirius said it flat-out, as though he was trying out the sound of the sentence on his tongue: "Remus Lupin is a werewolf."

Peter's mum worked as an assistant in a Quidditch supply store, which Peter's friends loved, and Peter's father worked with a Muggle construction company. Peter went to a Muggle primary school and mostly knew the magical world through glimpses of the Prophet and his mum's household charms. He supposed his childhood was more Muggle than magical. Some things were painful for his father. And of course until that accidental magic when he was eight, they'd thought he might be a Squib, too. That was probably why Peter, finally understanding what they were on about, licked his Sugar Quill and said, "Really? Neat."

Sirius and James spun around and looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. James said slowly, as though speaking to a very young and slow-witted child, "Peter? Our classmate, roommate, and friend is a monster, and you find that neat?"

"Well, it's only once a month, isn't it?" Peter said. "He's never killed any small animals or any of those things James said. Just yesterday Maisie Brown's kitten fell asleep on his lap."

James looked conflicted now, but Sirius was angry. "You really don't understand, do you Peter? Werewolves are contagious. Their only goal is to kill or turn other humans. Do you even have any idea what werewolf can do? Haven't you ever heard stories about the Northumberland Pack, from oh, seven or so years ago? How all those families were attacked? I made a joke about it and my father forced me and Regulus to look at some photos of the scene. It made me sick. I had nightmares about werewolves for months after that."

Peter hated it when Sirius was mad at him—Sirius was so scary when he was angry—but he still didn't quite get why Sirius was so upset. He pointed out, "If he wanted to kill us or something, he's had plenty of chances. You know, every night."

"That's another thing!" Sirius exploded. "We live with him! We deserved to know what he is, so we could take some precautions!"

"Maybe he was afraid we'd react like we're reacting," James said thoughtfully. He was still pale but seemed to be thinking very hard. Peter resisted the urge to say that he didn't have a bad reaction.

Sirius turned on his best friend. "James! Haven't you ever seen a werewolf wound? Don't you remember those scratches he tried to hide from us last month?"

"You think another werewolf did that to him?" Peter asked with wide eyes.

James said, "Maybe." He looked down at the book and said softly, "It says here that the top causes of death for werewolves are from werewolf hunters, injuries from other werewolves, self-inflicted injuries on the full moon—"

"Self-inflicted?" Peter squeaked.

James continued like he hadn't been interrupted, "—and suicide, when in human form."

Sirius had been scowling at the floor, but now his head snapped around to look at James. "Suicide?" And there was a trace of uncertainty in his voice.


By the next afternoon when Remus got back they'd read just about everything there was to read about werewolves, and James and Sirius were too righteously indignant on their friend's behalf to remember their fear. They confronted Remus with kindness and even gently hugged him, which was not something twelve-year-old boys generally did a lot of.

When the other two elected to go sneak some chocolate from the kitchens for Remus, Peter stayed behind, and Remus looked up with tired eyes and asked, "Are you—are you sure you're O.K. with this, Pete? I'll—I'll understand if you don't want to be friends anymore." He looked so unhappy when he said it that Peter couldn't help feeling a little flattered; he hadn't realized his friendship meant that much to Remus and he'd always felt a little out of the group. But then immediately he felt guilty for feeling flattered, when Remus was so upset.

He smiled at his friend and said, "I'm perfectly fine with it, Remus. It's you I'm worried about." That was certainly true; Remus looked weaker than ever. Maybe some small treacherous part of his mind considered telling Remus about the initial reactions of their other friends, but he quashed the impulse. It would hurt Remus more than anyone else, and right now his friend was hurting enough.

And then a few months later Sirius hit upon the idea of Animagi, and the rest was history.

Ancient history, Peter told himself, watching Greyback bare his teeth in a horrible mockery of a smile. Greyback was a monster in the way his childhood friend never could be. Greyback was the one who'd hurt Remus, who'd given him the curse.

Shaking away the thought, Peter ladled more poison neatly into flasks. Flasks that Death Eaters were always to have ready, to use on the enemy or for self-use should they be captured. There was a trembling young man reporting to Greyback. "They're always home by six at the latest, sir."

Greyback laughed, a rasping sound. "Sir, he calls me. Very well, cub. That wasn't so hard, was it? Now go on home. We'll be in touch." The man paled and fled.

Yes. It started with little things. Tell us how many Aurors will be guarding the station on Saturday. You know we could just watch them arrive and count for ourselves. But we want you to tell us, Peter, and if you don't we'll kill you. And you'll be dead and rotting, little Peter, and it will all be for something so small, something so easy and not really dangerous in the big scheme of things. He remembered the way Bellatrix's voice wrapped around him, her fingers flexing a little on the side of his neck in a perversion of a caress as he stood motionless. You won't be a martyr, little Peter, you'll be a fool. A fool who threw his life away.

So yes, he told them. And then one day he realized how deep he was in, that months and months had flown by and it wasn't such little information anymore, it was notes on Remus's wards and the orders going through the Aurors' office and the identity of members of the Order. Shaken, he'd come for a full-moon romp with Remus and the others and only realized when he saw their odd looks just how much he'd pulled away from them all.

He refused to give Bellatrix the information she wanted at their next meet—he'd known better than to run—and then took a quick breath, expecting the killing curse. But she didn't kill him. Her words slithered into him, Oh no little Peter, you're one of us now. I don't need to kill you. I'll just let your friends find out about our little… trysts. They'll take care of you for us, won't they? Her laugh echoed around him after she left, saying she'd be back in an hour.

He couldn't possibly face them all, couldn't see the betrayal written across their faces. He could have died at the wand of an enemy but not at that of a friend. And he sunk in deeper and deeper until he realized his life had become entirely lies, and some bit of him kept hoping they would figure it out and react with kindness and understand, even as he stood before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named having the Mark burnt into his arm.

But they didn't figure it out and then James got himself killed, and his Lily, and things were Bad for a long, long time please forgive me please understand Sirius but Sirius didn't understand and even Remus didn't understand. He didn't judge Remus about being a werewolf, not even when everyone else did.

And then Sirius got himself killed and it was just him and Remus now, although really it was only Remus. And Peter had a silver hand and he was in so deep now he didn't react to anything anymore. And Remus was still good and pure and light despite being a werewolf, he'd never been anything else, and he would kill Peter as soon as look at him. He would gladly rip Peter apart.

If anyone should understand, it would be Remus, but he didn't, and Peter flexed his silver hand, and hated Remus for that. He lifted another ladle of poison, and the Dark night rolled away, and the Dark day rose.

-End-

Well, that's it. My first Harry Potter story. I've read quite a few Marauders stories now that involve instant acceptance of Remus by James and Sirius, along with fear from Peter… and suddenly felt the urge to play with that a little. I've always felt the boys wouldn't have been friends with Peter in the first place if he didn't have some good qualities, after all. And I'm sure there are plenty of better stories of Peter's descent, but it sort of crept in there.

I apologize for both mistakes and inadvertent Americanisms; this plot bunny struck about 3 hours ago and it all sort of flowed out of me. I don't even have a beta reader for this fandom.

Thanks for reading. : )