A/N: Thank you to everyone for your patience on this. I am still putting most of my focus on Reclamation of Black Magic right now, but from time to time, when I need a break from it, I come back to this story to try to work things out. I can't promise any type of regularly scheduled updates, but I will be working on A Bit of Sky in between chapters of RoBM.

Chapter Seventeen

July 24th, 1981

Draco spent well into the night working his way through Pettigrew's memories. Everyone else took turns keeping watch over the both of them, though Lily spent her time taking care of little Harry downstairs. The room that Harry and Draco had been staying had been vacated—sleeping arrangements were to be determined later—and Pettigrew was set up in the bed there.

Determined to make sure the Marauders got a decent night's rest amid the crisis, Hermione offered to keep watch after midnight, outright ordering Remus, Sirius, and James to get to bed. Harry stayed in the bedroom with Hermione, silently holding Draco's hand.

"I should have—"

"Don't," Hermione said, cutting him off. "Harry, whatever Pettigrew is at this point in time, he was vastly different by the time we'd met him. He was insane. You saw that in the Shrieking Shack. No matter how it was done, at that point, he was Voldemort's loyal servant, even if he didn't remember why."

She felt sick just remembering that night in the Shack. The three Marauders had looked so vastly different from how they looked now: Remus had been skin and bones after years in solitude dealing with his lycanthropy. Sirius was gaunt, his eyes hollow except for the light of rage and madness hidden behind the darkness. Pettigrew, too, had looked wretched, almost diseased.

"He murdered Cedric," Hermione said, trying to drive the point home. "He murdered him without pause. No hesitation. You said so yourself. There was nothing you could have done at that point. He was gone."

Harry looked up at her miserably. "So many innocent people died that I could have saved."

"Not him. Not then, Harry."

She watched as Harry sighed, squeezing Draco's hand gently before he stood up, groaning. "I'm not useful here. Nothing I can do to help him, and I think I'm just making it worse on myself by watching this."

Nodding, Hermione smiled sadly at him, grateful that he was self-aware enough to take himself out of the situation. "It will be okay," she said, reaching out and grabbing his hand as he opened the door.

"I hope so," he said, not meeting her eyes. "I'm going to just go downstairs since there's nowhere to sleep. Not sure how we'll—"

"We'll figure it out when we need to." She looked back at Draco, sitting still as a statue in a chair beside Pettigrew. "I'll let you know when he comes out of this."

Two more hours passed slowly before a knock on the door interrupted the silence in the room. When Remus poked his head in, Hermione looked up, offering him a tired, but reassuring smile. He looked terrible, clearly having not slept much. "How're James and Sirius?"

Remus sighed, looking closer to the age that she remembered him than he had since she'd come back to 1981. "Sirius is finally asleep, and James agreed to take a Calming Draught. Don't understand why. He's the calmest of all of us, all things considered. I think he just didn't want to take a Sleeping Draught, and this was the next best thing. He's not really asleep. Just dozing in and out."

She reached for his hand, smiling when he took it. She tried to push her magic out toward him, hoping to nudge that connection they had now due to their wolf mate thing. She was depleted herself, but she was tempered by war, and Remus always gave too much of himself in every situation. He didn't keep reserves for himself the way she did. "I need you to sleep."

He shook his head. "Not sure if I can. Not with this happening."

"If it doesn't turn in our favour, I will need you when Pettigrew wakes up," she said, trying to reason with him. "I can't trust Sirius to stay in control, and everyone else is . . ." She wanted to say "emotionally compromised" but the same could, of course, be said of him. "I can handle Harry and the others, but I only trust you to be able to contain Sirius."

It was mostly true. She didn't really know how to handle James and Lily Potter. She didn't know them. As experienced as she was with taking care of Harry in times of duress, he was not his parents. While Draco could be trusted in a crisis—something she still found slightly funny—Sirius was unpredictable, and Hermione hated unpredictabilities.

"Please, Remus," she said. "I need you to do this for me. I need your strength."

He squirmed a little, shifting on his feet before stepping closer to her, pressing his nose to the top of her head. "I don't like sleeping without you. Strange."

She pressed her cheek against his shoulder and exhaled. "I know the feeling."

"I'll go."

She held onto his hand just a touch longer than she'd planned on, and he halted in the doorway, turning back to smile at her once more before his gaze turned to his friend on the bed, still unconscious. His smile faded into a veiled expression that looked like he was trying to hide pain, or anger—likely both. "I'll be in our, er, the other room."

More time passed. Hermione couldn't tell how much, as she had stopped looking at the clock on the wall behind her hours ago. It seemed like an eternity, but finally Draco moved. He let out a grunt of discomfort before slumping down in his chair.

Hermione was out of her seat in an instant. "Draco?"

"Don't . . . coddle me," he groaned irritably, bringing a loose hand up to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Fuck, that hurts."

"Is it done? Is he fixed?" She looked down at Pettigrew, who seemed less unconscious than before: previously he seemed to be in a coma, now he appeared to be slumbering. His eyelids fluttered as if he was prisoner in a nightmare from which he tried to escape.

Draco winced as he stood from the chair, bracing himself on Hermione's shoulder. "Box is broken," he said. "There was a lot of damage, but I'm almost positive that I found every last ounce of the curse. There's no way of telling how much he remembers or if this has irreparably damaged his personality. We'll only know for certain once he takes the Veritaserum."

Gesturing to the phial on the table alongside several Pain Relief Potions, Hermione said, "Lily kept herself occupied."

Without another word, Draco snatched one of the Pain Relief Potions and quickly downed it. This was a shock to her, as Hermione knew how much he hated the way they made him feel; that meant that his trip into Pettigrew's head had been more difficult than originally planned. "Will the Veritaserum work on him since he's—"

"I broke his Occlumency shield," Draco said, gagging at the aftertaste of the potion. "They've clearly not figured out how to add mint yet. Bloody savages."

"You broke his Occlumency shield?"

"What little he had was being used to protect those memories of Harry and Lovegood." He stretched his arms above his head. "That's still weird, by the way; Lovegood being related to me. Although, the Black family instability certainly explains why she was off her rocker."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione gently shoved him instead of punching him in the shoulder, which was what she really wanted to do, had he not been recovering from the ordeal of destroying the Pandora's Box. "Should I remind you that you are a member of that insane family?"

"I'm clearly a magical anomaly," Draco said. "A miracle, even, if you'd like."

"I would not say that."

"The Veritaserum will work." He looked back down at Pettigrew and sighed. "I actually feel bad for him, you know. I spent more time with him in our future than either of you did. There were times I actually wished that he would annoy Voldemort enough to get himself killed. At least then, he'd be put out of his misery. Still, I wouldn't trust him. Not yet. Not until enough magic proves that he's no longer a traitor."

"Harry's downstairs," she said. "Go let him know that you're fine. I'll stay here until he wakes."

Draco eyed her, and she glared back at him until he raised his hands in surrender. "If any of them find out that I left you in here alone, I'm going to say that you Imperiused me out."

"Go. Eat something. You look like hell."

The moment the door closed behind Draco, Hermione took the Veritaserum and pried Pettigrew's mouth open. He didn't need to swallow it, just a few drops on the tongue would do the trick. He groaned in pain when she opened his jaw, clearly near consciousness, which meant that she needed to work quickly. Only three drops needed to be administered, but Hermione put in ten, just to be on the safe side.

Corking the phial, she concentrated on Harry's wand in her hand. Since he had the Elder Wand in case of emergencies, he said it was only fair that she use his when she offered to take up the shift of keeping an eye on Pettigrew and Draco. It took extra effort, especially in her exhausted state, but Hermione focused a Petrifying Charm on his lower half. She wanted him unable to escape, but still functional enough to have a conversation. She was tempted to petrify his arms too, but she couldn't work the spell high enough without paralysing his entire body.

Taking a breath, she aimed the wand and whispered, "Rennervate."

Pettigrew's eyes snapped open, and he gasped for breath. His chest rose up and down rapidly as he looked around the room.

Hermione watched him every single second from the shadows in the corner of the room, trying to tap into her new wolf instincts to get a better feel of his every movement. So far, he looked panicked, but not the type of panicked that one would expect after waking up and finding yourself unmoving from the waist down with the aftertaste of potion in your mouth. No, instead, he had the look of panic that Hermione was very familiar with: the look of someone who'd just woken from a terrorising nightmare.

He looked like he wanted to call out for help on instinct, so Hermione spun the wand in her fingers, casting a Silencing Charm around the room.

"You're safe," she found herself whispering softly, if only to calm Pettigrew down so that she could begin questioning him. "You're at the Potters'."

Pettigrew grabbed his head and hissed in pain. "I had . . . Did something happen? I can't feel my . . ."

He almost didn't seem concerned about his legs other than to wonder why. Once she mentioned the Potters, Pettigrew's panic all but seemed to vanish, the concern quickly turning to focus on the pain in his head.

"Tell me about James Potter."

Pettigrew looked up at her then, squinting in the dark of the bedroom. She knew that he had Animagus senses that amplified his sight, especially at night, so the squinting was likely due to the pain still lingering in his head. She decided that if he played nicely, she'd give him the remaining Pain Relief Potion but not before he gave her what she needed.

Without further prompting, Pettigrew blurted out, "James Potter is my best friend. He's the most brave and loyal and good person I've ever known." His eyes widened as the words began to tumble from his mouth. "He's married to Lily, and they have a—" His hands flew over his mouth with such speed that it looked violent. He wrenched his eyes shut tight, and his face turned almost red. Pettigrew made an inhuman sound of anguish, screaming behind his palms.

Hermione's lips parted when she realised that he was trying to not mention Harry.

"What is your name?" she asked in order to break the assault he was doing to himself.

Pettigrew let out a heavy sigh of relief, his hands falling to his sides. "Peter Pettigrew. I thought you said I was at the Potters'? If that's so, why do you ask about James? Where am I? Who are you?"

She slowly stepped into the light. "My name is Hermione. I'm here to find out information. Information that you know, Peter Pettigrew. What do you remember of your first boat ride over the Black Lake?" The memory had been described to her by Draco in vivid detail, especially the way that it altered when touched.

Thanks to the Veritaserum, Pettigrew began to speak. His mouth moved and words came out, but his eyes looked shocked that it was happening. "I was scared. I'd not been excited like the other kids my age. No one sat with me on the train, so I just jumped into a boat that only had three. No one even spoke to me." His eyes scanned the room, looking for a way out. "It was the first time I saw James and Sirius. They were fearless," he said, a small smile coming to his face at the memory only to fade. "But then I . . ."

Pettigrew's eyes widened.

"You what? Did you feel something toward them?"

He sucked in a shallow breath, slowly bringing his hand back to his head. "I don't remember," he whispered. "It's gone."

"The memory?"

Pettigrew shook his head, swallowing down an obvious lump in his throat. "The thing in my head. It's gone." He looked relieved, near tears even, but then his breathing quickened once more. Hermione watched carefully, wand gripped in hand just in case, as Peter Pettigrew looked down at his own arm. "No." His right hand, shaking terribly, reached for the sleeve of his left arm and slowly began pulling it up. All the while, he whispered "No" repeatedly under his breath.

Hermione saw it the moment that the end of the serpent's black tail peeked out from under the fabric. Pettigrew tugged the sleeve back down in an instant, and nearly threw his torso over the side of the bed—his legs still unmoving—vomiting into the bin between the bed and the nightstand.

She waited patiently, trying not to let herself get too emotionally invested. It did not seem like an act, but all of their lives were at risk because of this man, so she could not get sloppy.

The man continued to dry heave in between gut wrenching sobs.

It still amazed her that he reminded her so little of the man she knew from the future. Despite the years and torture that they went through, both Sirius and Remus still looked like themselves, even if their future selves were practically ghosts of the men they were now. Pettigrew, on the other hand, had an obvious resemblance to the Wormtail she remembered meeting in the Shrieking Shack, but it almost felt familial instead, similar to the way that Ron had looked like his father.

The Pandora's Box had ripped Peter Pettigrew apart during the first timeline.

"I didn't . . . I don't want this," Pettigrew said, punching a tightened fist into the mattress.

"Are you loyal to Voldemort?" Hermione asked.

She was not sure what shocked her more: the look of familiar Gryffindor righteous anger in his eyes or the fact that Peter Pettigrew did not shrink in fear at the name. "Fuck no."

"Do you remember what happened?"

Peter nodded, pulling himself back upright into bed, his voice hoarse from being sick and crying so hard. "They took Sirius and got me when I . . . It's all blurry in my head. I can't remember why we were there or even who did it. Death Eaters were hurting Sirius, and then . . ." He reached out, rubbing his knee as though it still hurt.

Hermione knew that his legs couldn't move thanks to her spell, but he could still feel them. She wondered if the pain in his knees still remained after what Bellatrix had done. From the way he responded to touching the joint, she imagined it still hurt quite a lot.

"Then they started on me."

"Are you loyal to the Order of the Phoenix?"

"No," Peter said, gasping in shock as the word was pulled from his mouth by the truth serum.

Eyes wide, Hermione stepped closer to the bed and raised the wand. "And why is that?"

"I only joined because my friends did. I'm not . . . I'm not loyal to a cause. I'm loyal to them." He sighed in relief, almost as though he were happy to hear the truth of his own answers. He looked down at his left arm again, the relief quickly gone from his gaze. "At least . . . I thought I was."

Satisfied, for the moment, Hermione pulled her chair closer to the bed and took a seat across from Pettigrew. "I've petrified your legs so you can't escape. Don't try to shift into Animagus form either, or you'll only hurt yourself. You really are at the Potters' house. We discovered the curse that Voldemort put in your head the night you were captured."

"It's gone now?" Peter asked.

Hermione nodded. "We have a powerful Legilimens who spent the last day ripping it out of you." At that point, she grabbed the potion from the nightstand and held it out to him. "Pain Relief," she said. When Pettigrew seemed hesitant, Hermione added, "Lily brewed it."

He took the potion without further question, nearly sinking into the mattress as the draught kicked in. "Why can't I remember some things? It feels like certain memories . . . I don't know how to describe it. Like if my memories were paintings, it's almost like someone splattered them with something. Something that melted the paint. I can't pick out details anymore."

"Is it only emotions you're struggling to recall?" Hermione asked. When Peter nodded, she exhaled in relief. "The curse Voldemort had you under was slowly turning your experiences with those you loved into bad memories. Whenever you remembered your friends fondly, the curse took those feelings and twisted them, pulling all the good and securing it away, leaving behind whatever negative emotions might've been there. Envy, anger, fear, sorrow."

She waited in silence, watching the man as he let the words sink in.

Eventually, he asked, "Is it all gone? Am I safe?"

"To our knowledge, Voldemort doesn't know where you are."

Peter met her gaze, his eyes red and watery. "I meant . . . am I safe to be around?"

The earnestness in his eyes actually shocked her for a moment. "You'll be put through several tests to make sure. Someone suggested an Unbreakable Vow." Before she could say another word, Pettigrew threw out his right arm, wrist exposed, but she shook her head. "We'll address that when it's time."

"Did I hurt anyone?" Peter asked, his voice quiet. "Did I kill . . .? Did I . . .?"

Hermione thought of Cedric, but remembered James's determined anger over their initial reaction of Pettigrew, demanding to know how far back they'd have gone in time go to punish the man for crimes he'd yet to commit. "Not to our knowledge, no."

Peter sighed, leaning back against the headboard. "Are my friends safe?"

Hermione nodded. "They are. They're very worried about you."

A small smile crossed his face. "They do that. Are you from the Order?"

Thinking about that question at length, Hermione eventually shook her head. "I suppose I'm like you in that way. I'm not loyal to the cause. I'm loyal to my friends. The Potters included."

Rubbing his eyes, Peter looked like he was choking down another series of sobs. "I didn't want to."

"I can see that now," she said, thinking of Draco being forced to take the Dark Mark. While her Slytherin friend had never been so emotionally demonstrative about his guilt over the mark on his arm, she knew that expression on his face anytime he got lost in his thoughts while staring at the tattoo. It was the same expression that Peter Pettigrew wore now.

"Before anyone else comes in," Hermione said, clearing her throat. "I need to make something very clear. There is more at risk than you are aware, so I can't take many chances with the lives of my friends. You don't know who I am, so I'm going to tell you."

The man turned his full attention to her, looking only a little apprehensive as she leant slightly forward. His eyes widened slightly, and Hermione wondered if he could sense it in her. If he could see the flecks of glowing gold in her gaze. If he could smell the new wolf inside of her, its magic lingering in her blood.

"I set a professor's robes on fire when I was twelve, just because I suspected that he was jinxing my best friend. I tricked a woman into insulting Centaurs right to their faces because she was a threat, and I watched them bind her and carry her into the forbidden forest without a single ounce of regret. Before I could even legally Apparate, I captured an Animagus in a jar, and kept her there for weeks because she'd spread rumours about people I loved. Just rumours."

It was a little concerning, the way she could feel her wolf already, pacing somewhere in the back of her mind. The animal was nuzzling against the edges of her subconscious, soaking up the look of growing concern on Pettigrew's face.

"I've killed Death Eaters," she said plainly. "I've been fighting them since I was sixteen years old. I've survived being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, and I was able to outsmart Antonin Dolohov when he tried to kill me. I was considered the brightest witch of my age, and I have fought trolls, giants, acromantulas, Death Eaters, Boggarts, and I have survived the stare of a basilisk."

She waited a beat, listening as Pettigrew's breaths became rapid once more. "So when I tell you, Peter Pettigrew, that being a werewolf is the least dangerous thing about me, I want you to understand my full meaning."

He swallowed hard.

"If you betray us in word or deed, I'll make what Voldemort did to you feel like child's play."

The room was dead silent for several minutes other than the sounds of quiet breathing. Eventually, Peter gave a sharp nod of his head. "You're not lying about any of that, are you?"

She smirked. "I solemnly swear."

Sirius was not in an emotionally good place.

The last few days had been a whirlwind for him; he had no idea how James and Lily were coping with everything considering it was their grown kid who'd come back in time to stop a war that they were currently fighting . . . apparently for nothing.

Sirius had adamantly followed James into the Order of the Phoenix, blindly trusting that Dumbledore would be able to rid the world of Voldemort. In school, the rising Dark Lord had only been a rumour, but then some of their classmates went missing, others came back from holidays with stories of murdered neighbours, and some turned into shadows of their former selves.

He tried very hard not to think of Regulus, especially after learning what really happened.

It bothered him to no end, not having the slightest clue what happened to his family in the future. Harry and Hermione clearly knew his daughter but had not said much about her beyond the obvious recognition of her name. The fact that they hadn't known who Pandora was made Sirius believe that even if they did know Luna in their future, they might not have been close enough to ever meet her mother.

It took every ounce of strength in him not to go running to her to check and see that they were both safe. But Death Eaters had to go and cause a stir that week. Hestia had squirreled away with Marlene and her family, so Voldemort knew that members of the Order were running to ground rather than fighting. Sirius hated it, but he also knew that setting just one foot outside the cottage and into public life again would draw all eyes on him, and he would not risk Pandora and Luna's lives.

With little else to focus on, Sirius helped Lily with little Harry when he could, trying to distract the lad with games and toys. When the boy slept, Sirius stayed with James, for the most part, still trying to reteach his brain that Remus could be trusted. Merlin, did he feel like a tit over that. Especially since the real traitor was upstairs having his brain gutted out by Narcissa's kid.

The world, and time travel, was a bloody complicated mess.

He had tried to sleep; honestly, he had. James and Remus were scarcely able to do it themselves, so eventually he just stopped bothering when he woke up the seventeenth time that night. Utterly exhausted, James had finally collapsed. Remus looked like he was minutes away from finally closing his eyes, so Sirius waited and watched. The moment both of his friends were visited by the sandman, Sirius quietly made his way down the hall to the room where they were keeping Peter.

He could hear whispers from downstairs and used his Animagus hearing to eavesdrop. Harry and Draco. That meant that whatever his little cousin had been doing to supposedly fix Peter was done.

Approaching the door slowly with his wand in hand, Sirius tried to listen to see if he could hear anything. He was met with pure silence. Remembering that Hermione had taken up watch, he rolled his eyes. "She thinks a Silencing Charm will keep me out? That's adorable."

He'd been a master of Silencing Charms since third year.

Attempting to flick the bit of magic away as though it were a speck of lint, Sirius was annoyed to find that her spells were actually quite deeply integrated. It was convenient to the war efforts, of course, that the girl was damned powerful, but Sirius was only slightly irritated that Remus hadn't brought home a less troublesome witch. After the war, if they survived it this go around, he was certain that Hermione would put many a stop to mischief making.

Taking time to pull down her charm, Sirius grinned when he could finally hear talking beyond the door.

Peter's voice, at first, sent a cold chill of pure rage through his veins. He had to stop and remember that his future self had ended up in Azkaban, and that doused the fire quickly.

When his supposed friend began to cry, deep horrible sobs, Sirius thought back to Hogwarts. Out of the four of them, none had both parents left alive.

James's were gone, and that had broken Sirius as well. His own father died the same summer as Regulus, and even though Walburga was still alive, she didn't count. Remus lost his mum as well and wasn't very close with his dad any longer.

But out of every parental death, it was Peter who had been dealt the first blow.

While the rest of them had almost been men when they lost their parents, Peter had only been twelve at the time that his father, Evan Pettigrew, died. Shortly after coming back from Christmas hols during second year, Minerva woke them all in the dead of night, instructing Peter to go with her. In solidarity, Sirius, James, and Remus had refused to be parted from their friend, and after the news was given to Peter about his father's potion accident and the fire that followed it, the three friends spent the better part of the night holding Peter as he sobbed his grief out.

Peter's crying haunted Sirius's dreams.

He tried not to feel sad for him now, but he did.

If what Draco said was true, and Peter had been cursed into becoming a Death Eater, then it was Sirius's fault—at least partially. They had both been captured, and even though Sirius had been tortured during his brief visit with Death Eaters, they had used him against Peter. Used Sirius's screams to break him down until they began hurting him too. Sirius had nearly died, something he knew now was just a side plot to allow what had happened to Peter to go unnoticed.

After ten years of friendship, Sirius could not believe that he hadn't even bothered to wonder what had happened to Peter during their capture. He stupidly assumed that they'd just locked him up somewhere for fun and left him to rot, putting all their attention on Sirius instead.

Still, as much as he loved his friend, Harry, James, and Lily's lives were at risk because of him. He couldn't just trust him now based on years of friendship. Not after what they knew.

He continued to eavesdrop on the conversation, stepping back once as the door began to open.

Hermione jumped in shock at the sight of him.

He smirked down at her. "You kept some poor woman in a jar?"

Her gold flecked eyes narrowed at him. "You can't be in here alone with him," she said with a stubborn tone all too reminiscent of Lily when she first put that bloody Head Girl badge on her robes. No fun. All business.

Looking over her shoulder, Sirius made eye contact with Peter. His friend blanched in obvious fear, but then turned his head away. Sirius could still see his face in the reflection of the window. Peter's eyes were shut tight, his face pinched into a painful looking expression. Guilt. Grief.

"I'll get a Dreamless Sleep from Lily's stash," Sirius whispered to Hermione. "He needs to recover from whatever Draco did, and he won't be able to when what's happened will likely haunt him in his sleep."

With a look of shock, Hermione's narrowed eyes softened briefly. "I think that's a good idea, Sirius."