Disclaimer: This world and all its characters belong to JK Rowling. I wrote this purely for entertainment purposes, and have no wish to sell, copyright or otherwise claim any of this content.

Remus sat in the small waiting room, trying to pull himself together. As soon as James had given his testimony, they were going to see Peter, and Remus didn't know if he was ready to do that just yet. He wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with all the hatred and grief that would come with seeing the man who had nearly cost him his world.

It had been just over a week since Voldemort had fallen, and the wizarding world was beginning to shift from joyous disbelief to nervous confusion. Remus had spent most of his time with James and Dumbledore and the Aurors, trying to sort out the whole Secret-Keeper mess, but he'd still heard the conversations – both whispered and shouted – which were sweeping through all levels of the Ministry. "What about the Death Eaters?" was a common question, as well as "Does this mean we've won? Is he really gone for good?" The most common source of confusion, however, seemed to be found in the simplest of questions: "What happens now?"

For Remus, the answer to that question was mostly straightforward: try to reassemble the broken pieces of his life to the best of his abilities. He would find himself a new house and a new job, he would help Sirius recover from his injuries, and he would stand beside James in raising Harry. The one piece that he couldn't seem to fit in, however, was Peter.

In school, Remus had always liked Peter. Not in the way that he had like Sirius and James: they had helped bring out his adventurous side, helped him see himself not a small boy with a big secret, but as a normal boy with a life full of potential. But Peter had helped him see that he was needed in a way that no one else had seemed able to. Peter had always been willing to sit with Remus and do his homework, provided Remus help him out and, at least in the earlier years of their friendship, had never expected anything more than simple honesty out of Remus.

The door swung open and Remus immediately straightened himself, glancing at James' face as he re-entered the room. Inside, Remus caught a glimpse of Dumbledore, Crouch, Barnaby Greengrass and Minister Bagnold before the door swung shut and James plopped himself into the seat beside Remus.

"How was it?" Remus asked.

"Horrible," James said hoarsely. He cleared his throat, then gave a hollow laugh. "What did you expect?"

"Do you think we've convinced them, though?"

James shrugged. "I don't see how they can still think Sirius is a Death Eater, after everything. Dumbledore's certainly on our side. Give them a few more hours, and we'll get the verdict." Although he hadn't said one way or the other, James didn't seem too concerned about the outcome of the trial.

Remus nodded and sat back, trying to still the nervous energy that was bouncing through him. Calm down. You can do this. "Are you ready?" he asked James. It was a hard-won struggle to keep his voice steady.

"No."

"Me neither," Remus sighed. He glanced at James, who was making no move to stand but instead staring grimly at the opposite wall.

There was a short silence, which James broke. "He'll be going to Azkaban for this."

"Yes, I expect so." Remus frowned, and the past and present seemed to blur as he saw Peter, just a boy in Hogwarts robes, shivering in a bare cell in Azkaban. He shook his head, trying to clear the vision. This wasn't his friend Peter being sent to jail; it was the man Pettigrew, who had betrayed the Potters and thus had Lily killed. "It's what he deserves, for what he's done."

Now it was James who was frowning, although still he did not look at Remus. "Do you really think so?" he asked quietly.

"Yes." Any other answer, and Remus felt the tight hold he had on his sanity might shatter, along with any hope he had of pulling it back together.

"Alright, then." James stood, and Remus stood as well, trying to push away the feeling of dread that rose along with him. Calm down, Moony. Together they walked down the hall in the lower levels of the Ministry, James leading the way to the holding cell where Peter was being housed. As they neared their destination, however, Remus' conviction began to waver. Again he saw the small boy sitting alone in the dark cell, and Remus was suddenly overcome with a bewildering mix of anger, fear, and guilt.

What if, when he entered the cell, it was not Pettigrew Remus saw, but rather, Peter? The small boy, smaller even than Remus at that age, who had steadfastly argued with James and Sirius to just let Remus be! It was probably due to Peter that James and Sirius had discovered Remus' secret in second year, and not first. Or would it be the furious thirteen-year-old who had once shouted to a much bigger Slytherin that Remus could wear second hand robes and still be ten times smarter than you'll ever be! Perhaps he would find the stressed fifth year begging Remus to help him review one last time before the OWLs the next day –

No. That Peter is gone.

It would be like seeing a stranger, then, an enemy who had taken polyjuice potion to appear like Wormtail – no, it would be like seeing the victim of a Dementor's Kiss: an empty shell where once Remus had known a friend.

"Remus? Moony, are you okay?"

Remus shook his head, aware that he had stopped in the middle of the hallway and was now clutching the wall for support. "I can't do this," he whispered. "I – I'm sorry, James, I just –"

"Come on," James took Remus' arm and led him down the corridor and into an empty room, where Remus sank into an empty chair. "I'm sorry –" he began again, but James just shook his head.

"It's all right," he said, smiling slightly. "I understand. Just wait here, and I'll be back when I've said my piece." He smiled reassuringly at Remus, then left, leaving the door half open behind him. Remus slumped forward with his face in his hands, feeling utterly miserable.

There were two dementors guarding the cell. They had been called in by the Ministry, and would be returning to Azkaban with Peter once he had been sentenced. Clenching his jaw, James strode up to them.

"I'm here to see the prisoner." He held up the token Scrimgeour had given him.

The dementors did nothing for a moment, just stared at him silently from beneath their hoods, and then they drifted apart to reveal a door. The door was nothing special. It was wood, with iron hinges, an iron latch and a narrow mail slot like muggles used. Nothing that could hold a fully fledged Death Eater practiced in the Dark Arts.

James stepped forward and slipped the token into the mail slot. At first nothing happened, and then the latch and the hinges began to glow. The wood shimmered, the mail slot disappeared and suddenly the old wooden door was replaced by one much more suited to containing a dangerous wizard. This door was stone, black obsidian which had a sheen that made you feel as though if you just looked hard enough, you might be able to see through it. The hinges, which appeared at the apex of the domed top and the middle of the floor-leveled bottom, were made of a strong steel alloy. There were no door knobs. James placed his hand on the shiny surface and whispered the password; not loud enough for anyone to hear, just so that the magic would flow smoother. It was easier with a wand, which was how he preferred to do it, but some people could transmit the password simply by thinking it. Anyway, his wand hadn't yet been returned to him, and he wouldn't have brought it anyway. There was no way he would risk Peter using it to escape, and he wasn't entirely sure he trusted himself not to hex the man who had betrayed his family. The door spun, the curved posterior filling the gap on one side so that, while James could enter from the front, no one would be able to exit from behind at the same time.

The inside of the cell was small, the wall bare. There was a narrow cot in one corner, a simple chair beside it, and in the other a curtained off area where the prisoner could use the restroom. The only other thing in the room was Peter, who was sitting huddled on the cot, staring at the far wall with a miserable expression on his face. When James entered, his head snapped up and then drained of color.

"J-James –" he gasped, but James held up his hand.

"Don't," he said. Grabbing the chair, James sat down in front of Peter. "I haven't come to hear you justify yourself. I don't care why you did it. I just need to know –" James stopped, studied his hands folded tightly on his legs, then looked up at the shivering man on the bed. He couldn't do it this way. Yes, he wanted honesty from his old friend, but first he needed him to understand.

"Do you remember, Peter, when we first met? I lent you one of my nightshirts, because your trunk got lost that first night. And remember how I always used to let you copy my Transfiguration homework when you fell asleep early, so you wouldn't get in trouble the next day? And just last year, when your place burned to the ground. Lily and I let you stay with us, because you were our friend." Peter was shaking his head, but James wasn't done yet. "We trusted you. We put our lives in your hands, and all the friendship, the good faith, the trust – you betrayed it all.

"I loved her, Peter, you know that. I would do anything to protect Harry and Lily – even died, if that was what it took. Lily's gone – to protect Harry – you knowingly killed her, and if things had gone according to your plan you would have killed me and Harry as well. Would you have killed Padfoot, Peter? Moony? Where would you have stopped?"

"I-it wasn't like that," Peter whispered. "I didn't have a choice –"

"There's always a choice," James said firmly. "You made yours when you sold us to Voldemort."

"You d-don't understand –"

"I told you, I don't care," James said fiercely. "Save your explanations for the Wizengamot. All I need to know is this – you lied, fed information to Voldemort, betrayed my family into his hands and murdered the love of my life – do you regret it?"

"I didn't have a choice –" Peter insisted, but James interrupted him.

"Do you regret it!"

Peter stared at James, his mouth working soundlessly, fat tears leaking down his face. The seconds ticked by, and still he said nothing until finally, almost inaudibly, he whispered: "No."

James stood, and Peter jumped to his feet as well. "You don't understand, James!" he said desperately, his voice almost pleading. "He would have killed me, he would have killed us all!"

"And yet what you did of your own volition was far worse," James said coolly. Then he sighed. "You're going to Azkaban. And as a Death Eater who spied on the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix, and who as such committed multiple crimes against wizardkind, that's where you'll stay. It's a life sentence, Peter. It's what you deserve. And you're lucky, really lucky, that Sirius didn't have a wand when you found him. He would have killed you."

James left. He left his old friend alone in the small cell to be taken to Azkaban at the conclusion of his trial. Standing out in the hallway, well away from the dementors, James took a moment to lean against the old polished stone and breath deeply. There. He'd said his piece. Maybe later, once he'd come to terms with everything, Remus would want to visit Peter in Azkaban. Perhaps Sirius would as well, once he was healed. And maybe even Harry would go, when he was old enough to understand everything that had happened. But James was done. He'd found what he was looking for, heard what he wanted to hear, and was ready to put Pettigrew behind him for good.

Sirius sat in his special padded chair, holding Harry on his lap. It was a nice day, as far as November went: even though they'd had their first snow the previous night, the sun had risen free of clouds and it was now pleasantly warm, although the wind was brisk. Of course, they could have had the funeral inside, but Sirius had agreed (not that he'd had much say in the matter) with James and Remus. Lily had always loved being outside, so it was only fitting that that be where her funeral was held.

Technically, Sirius wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be in his bed resting, but as he'd told the healers, he would be damned if he missed Lily Potter's funeral. Even if he still felt weaker than a newborn unicorn. Even if it still hurt to breathe.

When he'd finally recovered enough to remain conscious for more than a couple of minutes, Sirius had learned that he was lucky to be alive. Not from the healers, at least not at first: those questions he had been able to slip in had been quickly deflected in lieu of the healers' and Aurors' own. It had been Remus, recovering from the full moon the next morning, who really told him the full extent of his injuries. A fractured hip, dislocated shoulder and three broken ribs from his impact on the ground. Two collapsed lungs, a compressed spine and a severe concussion from the force of the explosion.

"So what was it exactly that Prongs' shield did?" Sirius had asked grumpily, scowling at the extensive list of injuries that Remus had handed him.

"Only saved your life," Remus had replied. "The amount of friction would have blasted the skin right off your bones if it weren't for James."

And so Sirius had been issued a six-month long recovery schedule. Which most certainly did not include sitting outside with a fourteen-month-old toddler in his lap on Day 5.

Harry squirmed, turning to stare at Sirius. He was still sporting a band-aid on his forehead – apparently no one had been able to close his cut completely, so James had decided that the muggle method worked well enough. Harry's squirming, however, had caused Sirius to gasp, and now Harry was looking worried and making questioning noises in the back of his throat. Alice Longbottom, who was sitting beside Sirius, glanced over as well, then reached over and carefully extricated Harry from Sirius' arms. Harry let out a small whine and Sirius grimaced.

"I'm perfectly capable of holding my godson, Longbottom," Sirius muttered, but Alice just rolled her eyes and Sirius relented. It was probably for the best, anyway.

The service had begun at noon and lasted for just over half an hour. James and Remus had both spoken, as had Dumbledore and Lily's mentor from St. Mungo's. Lily's casket had then been ceremoniously lowered into the ground, and now everyone was having refreshments beside the old church. James and Remus were both standing by the gate, thanking people as they drifted out and receiving condolences. Sirius wished he could be there with them, but that just wasn't possible. Even just sitting, he was incredibly uncomfortable, and it had only been getting worse as the afternoon wore on.

Trying to distract himself, he turned to Alice. "How's Neville doing?" he asked.

"Well enough, I suppose," Alice sighed. Harry mimicked her. "We've been staying with Frank's mother, although he's still in the hospital. Neville wakes up crying sometimes and misses his dad, but other than that he's happy enough."

"Any word on the Lestranges?"

Alice shook her head, then poked Harry's nose when he did the same. "What are you saying no to?" she asked absently, and Harry giggled. "No, there hasn't been anything. I'm joining the search next week, though. I'll catch them, and see that they go to Azkaban for good."

The small yard was almost empty now, and James and Remus left their posts at the gate to join Sirius and Alice. Although he wasn't crying anymore, James' eyes were still red as he plopped into the chair beside Alice. Remus took the seat beside Sirius with a faraway look in his eyes, not seeming to be focused on much of anything.

"Dadda-daddy-dadda!" Harry babbled, wriggling out of Alice's grasp and onto James' lap. James bounced him on his knees and Harry squealed, giggling and clutching onto the front of James' dress robes. James smiled and bounced him again.

Sirius nudged Remus and Remus blinked, his gaze coming to focus on Sirius'. "How're you holding up, Moony?" Sirius asked.

Remus shrugged, sniffed, and sighed. "Not great," he said quietly. "But I think I'll manage. How about you?" His gaze sharpened, and he frowned. "Padfoot, you really shouldn't be sitting out here this long. I read the healer's report, you know –"

"Moony! I'm fine," Sirius said hastily. "Just a bit sore, really, and it's not like I won't be getting plenty more rest after this."

"Just be thankful I'm not more like you and James," Remus sighed. "The number of times you two made me stay in the hospital wing after transforming…."

"… think I'll leave now, I want to check in on Frank before going home." Alice was standing, kissing Harry on the head and squeezing James' shoulder. "I'll just say goodbye one last time." She stood and made her way back into the graveyard, towards the back where there was a freshly filled grave and a small phoenix marked the place where Lily's gravestone would eventually be installed. James stood too, his gaze sweeping over the empty chairs and the tables pushed up against the wall. He turned back to face Sirius and Remus, and Harry wriggled in his arms, wanting to be let down.

"We came here once," James said softly, seating himself on the cold ground and taking out a small toy lion for Harry to play with. "Before Harry was born, when we were still looking for a place to live. We went to the store, the library, the muggle primary school …" James cleared his throat, and although his voice was steady Sirius could see that he was crying again. "Then I wanted to come here, to this graveyard. There was a rumor that one of my ancestors was buried here, and I wanted to check it out. It was March, just after our parents died –" his gaze flicked to Sirius', and Sirius knew he was talking about the Potters. They had been just as much his parents as they had been James', and James knew that. "And I just started crying. I didn't know why, but I couldn't stop. Lily –" James stopped, staring studiously at the ground before taking a deep breath. "There," he said, gesturing to the edge of the graveyard where an old apple tree stood. "It was over there. Lily just took my hand and told me that everything would be okay."

There was a short silence, which Sirius broke. "James," he said.

James nodded, his eyes following Harry as he stood, wobbled slightly, then toddled over to cling onto the bottom of Remus' dress robes. He paused there for a moment, then stretched his small arms up to Remus, who smiled and reached down to pull him onto his lap.

"We'll make it through this," Sirius said. "Trust me. We're going to be fine."