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Chapter Nine: Old Friends

"BASTARD!" Sirus Black took aim and swung the candlestick at his target's head. The smaller man squeaked and cowered in fright.

Sirius Black generally did not hit people smaller than him.

Sirius Black had exceptions to this rule.

One exception was Mundungus Fletcher, who was as resilient as dried tar and usually smelled just as bad. Not to mention that most of the time, he deserved it. Another exception was his ass of a brother Regulus, who also usually deserved it—there was only the slight problem of him having disappeared off the face of the earth.

Sirius Black had added a new exception tonight. After all, one did not usually walk into an inn bathroom to see one's close friend examining a Dark Mark on his arm.

"ALL THESE YEARS WE'VE BEEN SAVING YOUR SKIN FROM EVERY SODDING PERSON WHO'D HAVE RAMMED YOUR WORTHLESS BUM INTO THE GROUND! AND THIS—THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY US!"

This was followed by a crash—the candlestick had missed its target and smashed into the door Peter had been pressed against. As Sirius tugged it out from amidst the splinters of wood, Peter squeaked. "Please, Sirius, please, I wasn't going to do anything—I could have helped with the Order—like Snape—"

This was not the right thing to say to Sirius, now or anytime. "Oh, Snape!" he roared. "Snape the Saint, He-Who-Never-Meant-Any-Harm. Oh, yes, Peter," Sirius barked out harshly, with a smile that made his teeth look sharp, "yes, I think you're quite on your way to his rank."

It was the vampiric smile that did it. Peter squeaked one last time, and by the end of it he was on the floor and rather furrier than before. The little rat took off, and a great black dog bounded after it. They were both out of the room before the candlestick had stopped spinning on the floor.

Out the inn's door and into the black night the little rat scurried, the spectral dog hounding it across the grounds of Hogsmeade. The wind pounded coldly against the dog's face in a rush of exhilaration. Sirius saw the rat try to run over the long bare hill for the forest, where there was an ice cube's chance in hell that he'd find the wretched Animagus. Quickly, Sirius regained his human form and took aim with his wand. A bright flash brought his quarry back to manhood, though he was no less of a rat, Sirius concluded. Another wave of the wand trussed the plump man with thin cords.

He walked over to the struggling Peter and looked him straight in the eye. Softly, he said, "You wanted to become their Secret-Keeper, Peter. You were simply delighted at my idea, remember? You told me it would save them. Peter, I have a slight doubt in my mind that you becoming their only hope wouldn't really have helped Lily and James much at all, would it?"

Peter shook his head in fear.

"You were going to have them killed, Peter!" Sirius cried suddenly, his voice broken. "Their friend! And me…you wanted to frame me! How could you—" Sirius let out a sob. After a family like his, friendship was all that he'd believed in. His ideal. The strongest bond on earth. But now…he looked almost pleadingly at Peter, wanting it to not be true, wanting Peter to yell "only joking!" and it would all be right again. "How could you?"

"P-p-please, Sirius, h-have mercy. I was scared…he is so strong, S-s-sirius."

"You had no mercy for James. Don't expect any better from me, Wormtail." Sirius drew his wand. "Better to die for James than to betray him," Sirius said in a shaky voice. Peter was unnerved by the glint of the moonlight on the tall man's face—it was wet. He was crying—sobbing. He knelt on the ground suddenly and Peter's eyes darted around to an escape route, any escape route.

"Better to kill for him than let scum like you walk free!" Sirius's voice was strong again, and he raised his head, his face stark white and furious. "Better to kill!" The wand pointed to the quivering Peter Pettigrew. "Avada—"

"James wouldn't want me dead!" Peter shouted. "James—James wouldn't want you to go to Azkaban instead of me," the plump man wheedled desperately. Sirius stopped. And suddenly it felt as if James were there, and James wouldn't…James wouldn't…

"James wouldn't let me kill," Sirius murmured. "He wouldn't let me." He sat down in the long grass and waited serenely, in an unnerving way, with the traitor until Remus showed up, having heard the ruckus at the inn and now perplexed at why one of his best friends had chased another through the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

An hour later, Sirius watched the Ministry lead Peter away into the night—to Azkaban. "Grab your cloak," he said to Remus.

"What?"

"Grab your cloak." Sirius looked out the window into the dark sky. "James will want to know about this," he finished grimly. He had a good hour left before his fragile self-control dwindled down into a fit of rage.

Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew were old friends.

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