Chapter Thirty Two

Under his bridge, Sirius had the beginnings of a plan. As unfortunate as it was that the wizards knew about his being an animagus, at least he knew that they knew. And at least they didn't know that he knew that they knew … or … well, that was getting overly complicated. The point was, he was no longer safe as Padfoot - and at least he knew it. That meant he needed to find himself another disguise.

Everyone would be looking for either Sirius - in the devilishly handsome flesh … though he thought it himself - or a big, black dog. But he was a wizard - and there were a million and one ways for him to hide, using magic. In fact - there were 8 million different ways to hide in London alone… as long as he had access to the right stuff.

Which - courtesy of Mr. Mulpepper and his special offer at the apothecaries - he did. Or he would have very soon.

...

The most dangerous part would be getting back into Diagon Alley. He would have to do that as Padfoot - there was no other way. But he would have to be mindful of the dog catchers and - since Rita Skeeter had so kindly outed him in the paper this morning - any busybody witch or wizard who was hoping for a bit of personal glory.

But even so, it would be safer by far to travel as Padfoot rather than as himself. As a dog, he could be any old dog … but as long as he had this face, there was no getting around the fact that he was quite clearly the heir to the ancient and noble House of Black.

Besides - those Ministry wizards earlier had been buffoons. The regular stray dogs had been giving them enough of a run around. Surely - as a creature in possession of animal speed and a human mind - he could out fox them until he was safely hidden once again.

...

Well, with his mind made up there was no purpose in shillyshallying. He needed to get this over and done with - and then the stages after that would be safer by far.

...

He walked back towards Central London and Diagon Alley, remaining as Sirius until he got closer. Lost among the throng of tourists and businessmen and souvenir vendors, even a wanted criminal would not stand out overmuch.

But once he hit the West End, he ducked down an alley and transformed back into Padfoot, and jogged quickly down the road past the theatres and restaurants.

...

A sudden cry alerted him to the fact that he had been seen - and, sure enough, a wizard in bright turquoise swimming shorts and a frock coat came running towards him.

With a yelp of alarm, he turned around and fled as fast as his paws could take him, cutting back through Leicester Square and losing himself in the middle of a gaggle of French teenagers on a school trip. He walked along in their midst back up to Tottenham Court Road (they seemed perfectly happy with his presence: 'regarde le beau chien noir!' 'Nommons-le "Bonbon"!')

And then peeled away from them once he was on the homestretch. (' Reviens! Bonbon! Ici! Bon Chien - Ici!' )

Keeping an eye out for any more dog snatchers - and ever ready to jump in and hide among groups of friendly and amenable muggles - he made his way back to Knockturn Alley.

...

He didn't worry too much about getting spotted there. Dark wizards hung around Knockturn Alley doing dark deeds, things other magical folk would shudder to think about. No one down there would want to alert the authorities and bring the Ministry into their presence - no matter how many black dogs they saw. They did not want officials poking around in their shady business. As long as Sirius could duck any werewolf that might take exception to his presence, Knockturn Alley would be safe.

It was going out into law abiding Diagon Alley - where well to do witches and warlocks would be keeping a weather eye out for anything suspicious - that posed the threat. He reached the turning … and then lurked in the shadows. He could see Mulpepper's Apothecary from here and - very obligingly - he could see the bottles of potion sitting outside the shop on their tray - their sale price displayed in big numbers to try and lure in passersby.

...

He waited. It was busy - the whole street was a swirl of robes and marching feet. He needed to time it just right; wait until Mulpepper was safely at the back of his store, until the street vendors were all busy with customers - and then he would dodge between the throng of legs and grab his prize.

Nearly - nearly… Mulpepper stood in the doorway to the shop. If he would just - yes - he was turning - he was going inside - just a moment longer - one moment more…

...

Sirius was suddenly hit by a large stone, he felt it bounce off his skin and turned his head, growling, as another one struck him - right on the nose.

A filthy, raggedy looking man, with scars all over his face, picked up another stone and threw it at him. 'Out of here!' he snarled - and his voice was a low rasp. 'Get out of here, mutt - this place is ours.' He threw another stone. This one was sharp and dug into Padfoot's skin. He whined in pain - and then the smell of blood leaked into the air. He was cut - the last one had cut him … and he saw the raggedy man sniff, and his face lit up with a look of … hunger ?

Well, Padfoot wasn't sticking around to find out. He would have to take his chances out in Diagon Alley.

...

Yelping, he dashed out of the shadows, into the busier street. Another stone was hurled after him, but he dodged and it missed him. It struck an elderly witch though - and she turned to look.

The werewolf who had thrown it ducked back into the shadows … and the elderly witch's eyes alighted on Padfoot. 'Dog!' She yelled, pointing, 'Black dog!'

And suddenly the whole street was in uproar - as people threw themselves at him, arms wide, trying to catch him.

...

He ran under one man's arm - like they were playing a game of scarecrow tig - and barrelled his way between the legs of another. He switched directions - just as a third tried to dive on him… but Padfoot was too fleet of foot, and the wizard only crashed down onto the muddy cobblestones as the wisps of Padfoot's tail slipped through his grasp.

Mulpepper was standing in his doorway, shouting and pointing. His eyes widened in alarm as the dog suddenly made straight for him. But before they collided, Sirius turned, and instead of biting the man - as he had clearly expected - he scooped up a bottle of potion in his mouth and ran away.

Several more wizards tried to dive on him, there was an almighty crash as they all jumped right at each other and smashed into the table outside the apothecaries, bringing all the bottles of potion tumbling to the floor … while they were entangled in a wild scrum of flailing limbs.

The bottles of potion cracked - and a thick, black treacly substance began to trickle down the cobbles - causing everyone to slip.

...

Not Padfoot though. Four feet were better than two … and, as his would be captors slipped and slid and shrieked and screamed and banged into each other … he put his head down and raced his way back through Knockturn Alley - ignoring the flurry of stones the werewolf pelted after him… and then made his way back to his bridge.

Success!


Silently, apart from the rattling wheeze of its breath, the dementor glided into Remus' cell and beckoned him to follow it with its rotting hand. Fighting down the wave of cold and nausea, Remus gathered up the soap and towel Kingsley had given him and followed his guard.

...

He was taken to the same room where he and … well, he wouldn't think that name - had been brought to when they first arrived. The dementor stood still, watching him from beneath its great, black hood - though Remus always got the impression they couldn't really see.

Which, today, was a blessing as, as the dementor stared at him - waiting, he realised what it was waiting for - and, a little red faced, he began to strip off his soiled and filthy prison robes; bundling them up and throwing them away from himself … And then he stood there, completely bare, waiting.

...

The water was turned on him, the same great, gushing spray from before - which nearly knocked him off his feet. Only this time the water wasn't freezing. It wasn't exactly warm either but it was … tepid.

That was Kingsley's doing … though he kept his thoughts carefully neutral, knowing better - by now - than to feel even the faintest flicker of gratitude.

...

He picked up the soap and began to lather it, scrubbing away at his skin, sluicing through three weeks of grime and the sweat from his fever and the … well … his moments with Snape had hardly been his finest hour, but he lathered up and cleaned that away too.

He stuck his head under the spray and rubbed the soap into his hair, digging into his scalp with his finger nails to work up a really good foam. Then he rinsed his hair clean and began scrubbing his body again.

...

For just the briefest moment - he lost control of his carefully neutral thoughts, as he scoured away the dirt of his time in prison - and his mind wandered to the last proper bath he had taken. It had been right after the full moon - Sirius had run it for him …. He had lain in the warm water, thinking about waking up in Sirius' arms and hadn't been able to stop from touching himself...

The memory flashed into his mind … he felt a sudden blush and the same heavy tug between his legs, as the images stirred more than just his emotions … And then just as suddenly the image flickered and died - there was a great rasping, rattling wheeze and the water turned ice cold.

...

He couldn't stop himself from crying out - but after that, he finished up getting clean very quickly, and kept his mind hyper focused on neutral nothings that would not interest the dementor.

...

Once the last of the suds had dripped from his skin and puddled onto the floor, the water was switched off and he grabbed hold of the towel and - unlike last time where he had been left to drip dry in the cold - he hurriedly rubbed himself down, rubbing his hair dry as well as his skin.

The dementor then handed him fresh robes and - still careful not to feel grateful to be clean - he pulled them on over his head and then followed his guard back to his cell.

...

So now he was fresh and clean. He wasn't hungry. His wrist didn't hurt and he was well. Since they had found out that Sirius' had escaped in such a way that he could not possibly follow, they had even relaxed the guards at his door - and the feeling of freedom, after the day in their constant company, was immense.

As long as he guarded against happy thoughts, this was the best it had been for him since he had arrived here.

Although that meant … he looked out at the darkening sky, at the huge gibbous moon … now that life was marginally better for him, it was harder for him to die.


Peter sat at home. He pretended to read the evening edition of the paper, but really he was watching the aurors guarding him, very carefully. There were two of them - Scrimgeour and Savage. And they hadn't left him alone for a moment.

Not a single moment. They were following Snape's instructions to the letter - determined not to let him run off and spoil the trap they were so carefully laying. They even came into the bathroom with him. Oh - they might turn their backs - but there was no way out, and no way they wouldn't notice the disappearance of Peter and the sudden, coinciding appearance of a rat.

Now Padfoot's secret was out, he supposed people would not be surprised to discover he was an animagus too. That they all had been. Well … apart from Moony.

...

That was his big escape plan. All it would take was a moment, when both their backs were turned and then - quick as a flash - he would transform and scuttle away, as far and as fast as his little paws could take him. Go underground. Start a new life somewhere else … maybe stay as a rat, if it seemed safer. But they were not giving him the chance.

And the meet and greet was getting ever closer. There was only tonight - and then tomorrow - and then it would be the following morning … and Peter was beginning to wonder exactly what he had done. How had he managed to get himself cornered like a … well, like a rat. Everything had been going so well.

...

It was that dratted Sirius' fault for breaking out of Azkaban. Why couldn't he have just stayed in prison where he belonged and left Peter to get on with his life? What had Peter ever done to him to deserve this? It was too unfair.

...

The doorbell rang - and Savage hauled himself to his feet and went to answer it. Peter watched Scrimgeour closely - now there was only one of them - but the old auror showed no signs of letting his guard slip.

He heard voices out in the hall, and then the front door closing and then footsteps coming back. Two sets of them.

Savage returned to his seat, taciturn and dour as ever. But Peter was now watching the doorway, where Rita Skeeter had appeared, a brilliant grin fixed to her face and the rhinestones in her glasses flashing in the light. 'Peter!' She greeted him enthusiastically.

'R- Rita!' he squeaked back.

'Well, I just had to come get the full scoop. My my my - 36 hours to go. And here you are - under the protection of the aurors. Are you afraid?'

Peter shuddered: 'n - no.'

Beside her, Rita's quickquotes quill started to write.

...

Despite knowing he is the the target of the deranged Black's vengeance fuelled mission of murder, Peter Pettigrew, 21, remains ever the Gryffindor. 'It is what it is - and I'm not afraid,' he says, shrugging his shoulders philosophically. 'I have every confidence in the Ministry aurors sent to protect me. They will capture Black.'

...

'But you do expect Black to show at the meet and greet the day after tomorrow?' She asked.

'That's - that's what I'm told.'

'But the Ministry will be ready and waiting for him?'

'Y- yes. They're - s-setting a trap for him.'

'Wonderful… wonderful…' The quill kept on scribbling.

...

'A team of highly qualified aurors will be patrolling The Leaky Cauldron,' Pettigrew exclusively reveals. 'Whatever disguise he tries to use - dog or man - the Magical Law Enforcement team are ready for him. And I know his recapture will enthrall and entertain the nation in equal measure. We can sleep easy in our beds knowing that the best of the best is on the case - and I am proud to, in my own small way, play a part in Black's rearrest.'

...

'This is just golden,' Rita said, reading back what her quill had written. 'All of this - my readers will lap it up.'

Peter only nodded - he was far too used to things he had never said appearing in the paper by now to question her. And if she was right - if the aurors succeeded and the nation were… he squinted at the scrawl of the quill "enthralled and entertained" - then he could expect a lot more fame and a lot more sweet treats in the post.

He just had to hold his nerve.

...

… Though, he had never had much in the way of nerve.

...

Rita smiled at him, collected up her quill and notebook and then put them back in her handbag, snapping it shut. 'Well - that will be all. Thank you for your time, Peter. I'll see you the day after tomorrow.'

She got to her feet. Savage also got up to see her out.

'I don't suppose I can get a quote from you too?' Peter heard her ask.

And then the door was closed, and Peter was left once more to his worrying.


Although it was late, the lamps still burned in the aurors office. Severus Snape was busy detailing his plans to the gathered aurors - he had a floor plan of The Leaky Cauldron spread out across a table and was pointing at various parts of it and conjuring little figures to represent the crowd, Peter Pettigrew, Harry Potter, the press and themselves. Every so often he would jab his wand at the little figures and make them move around.

...

But Kingsley was not really listening to him. He was too busy feeling guilty. He shouldn't have called Re - Lupin - "werewolf". It was beneath him, it was needlessly cruel … He had just finished making a speech on human rights only to undercut himself completely by dehumanising the man he was talking to.

And it would be the last thing he ever said to Remus. The last he ever saw of him - and that had been his parting word.

...

In a matter of … it was pretty much a matter of hours now - less than a week - four night's time - Remus would be taken from his cell and executed. And there would never be any taking back that word for Kingsley. He would have to live with it.

...

He tried to tell himself he was being ridiculous. Lupin was a Death Eater - a spy - he had helped murder James and Lily … he deserved his fate. He certainly hadn't worried about the Potters' human rights when he had conspired with Voldemort to kill them all. Lupin was not Kingsley's friend. If he had ever been the man Kingsley thought he was, then he was that man no more. And what had taken his place was not worth the time Kingsley was giving him; not worth the emotion; not worth the guilt. He was not Kingsley's friend.

...

...He looked so much like Kingsley's friend though. Even lying on that mattress, feverish, half starved and completely filthy … he had still looked like Remus. And he had joked like him too - once he was feeling stronger. And that - that had hurt. Kingsley did not know what he had expected - that maybe the man locked in his cell would be different somehow. Maybe the evil would be visible, maybe he would say wicked things - gloat at the deaths of his former friends, laugh at his betrayal of them…

But he had just been Remus. Joking about his own execution … and Kingsley knew that, as he said it, Remus had no idea about the harness and muzzle they had set up for him next door; how he would be killed - the humiliation that was awaiting him right at the end of his life. And that had hurt too.

Looking at Remus being Remus - and knowing he had no real idea of what was to come, it had hurt more than Kingsley was ready for. More than he had expected. And he had needed to push away that hurt; get rid of those feelings; convince himself that this was just - that what they were going to do to Remus was justice.

And so he had called him "werewolf". To try and protect his own heart. Only now … now his heart was heavy and he could never ever take it back...

...

Snape's voice cut through his consciousness, when he heard his own name being mentioned, dragging him from his reverie: 'Shacklebolt will be stationed near the back entrance, we're not letting Black out into Diagon Alley. But I want at least four aurors by the muggle entrance. If he gets out into muggle London we'll lose him - maybe forever.'

...

The door to the office opened, and Dawlish came in - carrying a note and wearing a troubled expression. 'Memo from the regular law enforcement brigade - the ones been doing the dog snatching.'

'What is it?' Snape reached out and took the piece of parchment from his hand. Whatever he read made his nostrils flare and his lips go very thin and white.

'Snape?' Proudfoot said.

Snape dropped the parchment and then raised his hand to massage his brow. 'There was a black dog sighting in Diagon Alley earlier … caused a commotion. Got away.'

'Might not have been Black.'

'It stole something.'

'What?'

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. 'A vial of polyjuice potion. He knows we know about his animagus form. It means he will turn up at The Leaky Cauldron wearing a new face entirely. He could be anybody.' He inhaled sharply, hissing air through his teeth. 'We will need more aurors on the ground. I had better write to Dumbledore.' He sounded bitter as he said this, 'let him know about this new … development .'


Sirius sat under his bridge. He had his knees tucked up against his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees. The stones of the bridge were hard and damp and uncomfortable against his back - but he didn't mind. He was too busy thinking. He was staring up at the large, roundness of the moon - and thinking about Remus.

...

He didn't have much time - another day was gone. If things went to plan - if things went to plan then in as little as 48 hours they could be together again. And then there would be 2 days left until the full and - just like he had in November - Padfoot would spend the night with Moony, keeping him safe, and then Sirius would spend the next day with Remus, making him well.

And then they could go and find Harry. They would be a family again by Christmas.

But if things didn't go to plan…

...

He sighed - and kept staring up. He knew that, far away, locked alone in his cell, Remus was looking up at this same sky, that same moon … and that came as something of a comfort. Even this far apart, they could never really be separated.

...

And Remus would never really leave him - he had promised that, before they were taken to Azkaban. That - whatever happened - Remus would still be with him, the way James was.

But that was never going to be enough. Sirius didn't just want Remus in his heart - he wanted him in his arms as well. Things had to go according to plan. The other option was unthinkable.

...

He stared up at the moon, his arms hugging his knees, and thought of Remus - far away - doing the exact same thing.


Remus sat on his mattress. He had his knees tucked up against his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees. The stones of the cell wall were hard and damp and uncomfortable against his back - as always - but he didn't mind. He was too busy thinking. He was staring up at the large, roundness of the moon - and thinking about Sirius.

...

He shouldn't. He knew he shouldn't - he knew he would be punished severely for these few fleeting moments of happy thoughts he was allowing himself. But he had so few moments left, he might as well try and steal the occasional happy one where he could.

...

Four more nights.

He would never be with Sirius again. They would never meet again in this life - and that hurt more than he could bear.

...

He hoped that, wherever he was right now, Sirius was safe and happy and enjoying his freedom … while it lasted. He hoped against hope that Sirius would manage to remain free for a long time to come - that he would find a way to stay hidden.

The thought of Sirius coming back here - all alone - once Remus was … gone hurt too much to bear as well.

...

The moon stared in at him - malevolent, hateful and fat. The only good thing that could be said for it was that it stared down all over the world. It stared down on Sirius. Wherever he was right now - they were both looking at this same sky and that same moon … and that made it feel like they were not really apart. Like - no matter what the distance - they could never really be separated.

...

And he would never leave Sirius. Not really.

Though it wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted their life together - their whole future - wrapped in each other's arms. But that was never going to happen. Not for them.

...

At least Sirius would always have the memory of their one beautiful, perfect night together. And Remus would always be in his heart. And then, maybe one day - when Sirius was very old - he too would pass beyond the veil that was beckoning to Remus right this minute, and they could finally be together - where James and Lily were.

...

Maybe.

...

He stared up at the moon, his arms hugging his knees, and thought of Sirius - far away - doing the exact same thing…

...And then the rasping, rattling wheeze of decayed breath, outside his door, told him the dementors had arrived, to punish him for daring to think of such bittersweet things...