MCD, execution, violence, blood, mental instability
Uh. This is dark. And inspired by a conversation in my discord server. (Hi, dorcas. I took your idea and ran with it.)
I don’t know why I’m like this. I swear I will write some fluff for bingo again.
Sirius sat in the middle of the street, ash and smoke filling the air, the sounds of people screaming echoing in his ears. He was in utter disbelief that Peter Pettigrew was the reason that his best friend, Lily and his godson were dead. And now Peter is gone. He transformed into his animagus form and fled, cutting off his finger and leaving it behind. Sirius had often forgotten just how clever Peter was. He watched people, always knew things, and knew how to manipulate situations in his favor. Sirius never really considered it much besides the fact that it got him out of a lot of trouble in school. Looking back over the last few years, the war getting so dark and deadly made him feel sick. All of the details of missions, near misses, information that no one else should know being in the hands of death eaters.
And Peter was sneaky enough to make enough evidence point to Remus. Sowing discord and distrust, and Sirius had played right along, believing that Peter would never do anything to hurt his best friends. Peter was an integral part of them at one time and Sirius couldn’t quite put a finger on when that changed, it was so gradual that Sirius didn’t notice the gaps of Peter being missing, and when he did, it was chalked up to missions, his job and his sick mother. But Sirius had never, in all of his consideration of how things had gone so wrong, he never landed on the fact that Peter could be using his animagus form in order to spy. Honestly, it should have, because they used it so much in school.
And damn him, but hadn’t Remus made it so easy for Peter to accuse him and have all eyes on him as a suspect. He was always gone, especially around the full moons, always secretive, beaten up, and even when he was around, he was like a shell of himself. Haunted. Sirius had wondered if it was because of the betrayals; the guilt eating him alive.
And it had hurt. Remus is the man that he loved. Still did. Always would. Even though he’d suspected him, he hadn’t said anything to anyone besides James, Lily and Peter. It never really crossed his mind to bring it up to Dumbledore, Moody or anyone who had any sort of power in the Order. The only action he had taken had led them to this whole mess to begin with.
Changing the secret keeper.
And not telling Remus.
Remus.
He tried to get his mind off of that, but whenever he got out of the immediate danger, all he could think of was the Potters.
James unmoving on the front stairs, glasses crunched, wand nowhere to be seen. He’d never seen James so still. Even in sleep he moved about, and anytime he was awake, he was fiddling with something, pacing around, always on the go. Sirius had known when he came through the gate that he wasn’t alive, but that hadn’t stopped Sirius from dropping by his side. He put his hand to his chest and a sob had ripped from it to feel it unmoving. He then picked up his arm, desperately hoping for a heartbeat, but it was limp and too cold.
Cold.
James had been so, so cold.
James was supposed to be warm.
James had been the sun.
The sun wasn’t supposed to be cold.
Sirius was a moment away from laying on the ground beside him, waiting to die, because surely he was so connected to James that Sirius couldn’t possibly just… Keep going.
But he heard a cry, and it jolted him back into reality.
Harry.
How could he forget Harry? Sirius jumped to his feet and ran through the house that had started to crumble in places. He ran to the nursery and stopped in his tracks again, seeing Lily there on the ground. Arms thrown out in protection, her last act was trying to keep her son alive. Likely knowing that her husband was dead downstairs, and that she would be in moments. He took a deep breath and knew that he could break apart later. There was nothing he could do for Lily. For James.
But Harry was crying, very much alive, blood running from an odd cut on his forehead. Sirius picked him up and the crying slowed a bit, but didn’t stop. Sirius’ mind whirled, trying to figure out what to do next. Harry had to be taken care of. They had to find out what happened here tonight.
There was an empty cloak on the floor, and an extra wand rolling slightly in the breeze.
Voldemort’s probably. But did that mean he was dead?
How?
And why was Harry still alive?
Sirius felt frozen and just wanted Effie and Monty there to tell him it would somehow be okay. That this was some terrible nightmare and they would hold him until morning.
But they were dead. James and Lily were dead. Sirius felt half dead inside.
Remus. Was Remus dead? Sirius didn’t know. He hadn’t seen or heard from him in nearing five months now. It hurt but there had been so much going on that he hadn’t given himself any time to process or figure out what it meant. He’d had brief thoughts of going to find him, but he had no way to, and there was no way that Dumbledore would give him any information. He’d tried that whenever Remus first started disappearing on solo missions.
Was this Remus’ fault? How could he know though? Quiet, nerdy, kind, patient Remus.
Remus; who also had a temper that he tried to keep bottled up because he didn’t want anyone to be afraid of him.
Remus–who was a coward at times and ran from confrontation. Could he have been a coward enough to have betrayed them? Voldemort might have offered a better life for him as a werewolf.
Then he thought of how brave Remus could be. How he stood up for younger students who were being bullied. Who talked them through being homesick. Remus, who stood up to them when they were being mean to Peter, one of their own.
Peter.
It was then it had clicked. Peter had been missing from the safe house.
Peter had known and been able to share where the Potters were.
Peter had led him to this moment.
Peter had killed them.
Sirius found Hagrid outside the house, and handed Harry over, thinking that he would be safe with him until Sirius could come back for him. He left his motorbike as well, and went to find Peter. He needed revenge.
Peter killed them. Betrayed them. Handed them over to Voldemort to be slaughtered. And for what?
Peter killed them.
But wasn’t it really his own fault?
Trusting the wrong person, doubting the right one. Not trusting himself.
***
Sirius sat in the street laughing.
The aurors came and he looked one of them in the eyes, he thought he knew him from school, but Sirius’ mind was so far from clear that he didn’t care to try to figure it out.
“It’s my fault. I killed them,” Sirius said. He couldn’t stop the hysterical laughter as they dragged him all the way to the ministry.
It was all a blur really.
Screaming people on the street, pieces of the road blown to pieces. Blood, fire.
As they got closer to the ministry, Sirius noted that there were people still celebrating Voldemort’s downfall. But Sirius just wanted to punch them. Because how dare they? People died. Including two of the people that were closest to his heart. They were acting like the greatest of sacrifices hadn’t been given in order for Voldemort to fall.
Peter.
It was Peter's fault.
But Sirius trusted him.
Sirius killed them.
Sirius blinked and realized that he was in a holding cell. It was damp, cold, and quiet. Too quiet. He could’ve sworn that someone was laughing. Then crying. Then laughing again.
Time slipped away from him.
Something slammed on the table and he looked up to see Moody staring down at him.
“Are you listening to me?”
Sirius hadn’t been. Sirius hadn’t even known that Moody had come into the room. He met his eyes but didn’t say anything, just shrugged.
“What happened in that house?” Moody asked.
Sirius just looked at him. Images flashed in front of his eyes but he fought them back. He couldn’t handle it right now. His brother by blood was dead, taken by this war, and he had no idea what happened. Only that he had tried to run. His parents by choice were dead. His brother in everything else was dead. The war had taken him too.
Harry and Remus. Those were the only two people left alive that he would even fight to live for. But as he looked around this cell, he thought that he might not live long. Or at least not a life he wanted to live. He’d already confessed, hadn’t he?
“I don’t think you did this,” Moody said, startling him back to the present.
“It was my fault,” Sirius managed to say.
“Would you be willing to take veritaserum?”
Remus and Harry.
Remus.
He couldn’t take veritaserum. It would be on record that Remus was a werewolf.
Remus.
How had he blamed Remus?
After everything?
He had to protect him the only way he knew how at this point.
Sirius shook his head. “No.”
“Will you tell me what happened?”
“No.”
Moody left and Sirius waited. Waited for death, waited for prison. Waited for everyone he loved to come back to him. Waited and hoped that he wouldn’t wake up.
Sirius pushed everything deep inside, and floated, disconnected from reality. It was something he’d learned in Grimmauld place, to keep his sanity. Now he did it because nothing made sense, and he couldn’t bear to be fully present.
The next thing he knew, he was in a courtroom, and felt some sort of fiery magic rushing over him.
“Drink that, I said.” There was a stern man talking to him, all adorned in dress robes.
He glanced around and there were so many people. In the seats to judge him, in the audience to see justice.
Sirius didn’t drink. He could barely think.
Suddenly his mouth was being forced open by magic and a potion shoved down his throat.
“What’s your name?” the man in charge asked.
Sirius didn’t want to answer, so he tried to remain quiet, but something inside of him pulled at him, making words bubble up against his will. He didn’t try to fight it anymore, he knew what this was, and everyone knew the answer to this question, and he should save his energy for ones he didn’t want to answer.
“Sirius Black.”
He answered inane question after inane question. About his family, about his schooling, and he didn’t care about those answers.
He let himself mindlessly answer until: “What happened on October 31st?”
Sirius didn’t want this one spoken aloud. He’d dissociated earlier for a reason. He’d been under Veritaserum before and remembered the loophole. He searched for a memory of another Halloween night.
“James, Remus, Peter and I pranked McGonagall. It was funny really,” he started, voice dull before he was interrupted.
“Of 1981, Mr. Black,” the man snapped.
He went into his account of what he’d seen.
“And did you give this information to Voldemort?”
“No. But it’s my fault.”
“Who did you tell that in turn told Voldemort?”
“I didn’t tell anyone. I wasn’t the secret keeper.”
“Then how did you know where they were?”
“James and Lily told me. But I knew something was wrong. I suddenly knew everything clearly. I think that is when the secret was told to Voldemort.”
“Who was working with Voldemort?”
“Peter Pettigrew. He was the secret keeper,” he spat in disgust.
“You killed Peter Pettigrew, that seems convenient,” the man said.
“He killed my brother,” Sirius answered.
“Your brother has been long dead. What does Regulus have to do with this?”
Nothing. Everything. Wasn’t that the dichotomy of Regulus in his brain.
“Not Regulus. Peter killed James,” Sirius answered.
“James wasn’t… Nevermind.” The man paused, studying Sirius. “So how is it your fault? You told the auror that you killed them.”
“It is my fault. I told them to switch to Peter. I was afraid if it was me it would be too obvious. And also that I might tell…” Sirius fought against the pull of the potion. He couldn’t say his name. He couldn’t. Why had he said that? They would notice.
“Tell who? Tell who what?”
Sirius fought, and it felt like the potion was burning his insides.
Not him.
I can't lose him too.
I can’t betray him. Again.
Say something else.
Anything else.
But what could he say that wasn’t a lie?
It felt like his brain was melting, but still he fought.
“Remus,” he finally said, the words bursting out regardless of his efforts. He’d rather have burned alive.
“Remus… Remus Lupin?”
Sirius fought again, but they already knew. “Yes.”
“Why would you tell him?”
“I’m in love with him,” Sirius said.
There were murmurs in the courtroom. Wizards were generally open to same sex relations, however it still wasn’t common. And Sirius was disinherited but he was still a pureblood and from a very traditional and blood purist family. Even though they had just defeated the wizard who was very much on his parents’ side, many ideas take a long time to shift. And it also went to prove that to some, no matter what he did, even fighting on the opposite side of his family. His brother. Merlin, he couldn’t think about Regulus. But even through all of that, to some–Sirius would never escape his name, the legacy that the Moste Noble House of Black has cultivated for so many years.
“So, why wouldn’t you want to tell him? If you loved him?”
The question was like a bucket of cold water over his head. Like a slap to the face. A punch to the gut. Any of the sayings he’d heard over his lifetime. It was like he was experiencing them all at once.
Why wouldn’t I want to tell him, indeed. If I loved him. Of course I loved him. Still do. Always will. So, why had he let himself believe otherwise? Remus had always been faithful. Loyal. To a fault really. To Dumbledore. Because he felt indebted to him for something that should have been a basic right of going to school. Remus wouldn’t tell him no even when the missions were dangerous. Sirius didn’t know details, but he saw clear as day that Remus was hurt by them. That every time he came home, he looked more poorly, like another piece of what made him was drained.
Remus was loyal to the marauders as well, because he didn’t stand up to them when they knew that he didn’t like what they were doing. He acted like the Willow Incident wasn’t a big deal because he was afraid of losing his friends. So, why would he do something to get his friends killed?
“I…” Sirius struggled to hold back the words. How could he twist them to be truthful but not implicating? “Was afraid that he would get hurt if he knew,” Sirius said.
“Couldn’t he have gotten hurt just as easily? Since he thought that you were the secret keeper?” the man asked.
“Yes, I guess.”
“So, why didn’t you want to tell him?”
Sirius felt the searing pain again, and wanted to slice his tongue out of his own mouth so he didn’t have to answer.
“Because I didn’t know what he would do with the information,” Sirius said in a low voice, a single tear rolling down his face.
The murmuring got louder and there were a few gasps. Sirius was tired of their dramatics and wished that he was anywhere but here. He would even go and hang out with Walburga.
“What did you think he might do with the information?”
Sirius was really beginning to despise this man. He wished he had his wand.
“Maybe nothing. I hoped that he wouldn’t do anything with it,” Sirius said. He knew that still left plenty of room for questions and he didn’t think that he would be able to get out of this without casting Remus in doubt.
He thought about the new legislation regarding werewolves. Sirius had hoped that if Voldemort was defeated that things might actually get better. But they weren’t. They were worded ambiguously. Werewolves committing crimes could be sent to Azkaban or executed with little evidence. And the laws regarding the registry hadn’t been lifted but instead were tightened. Sirius thought of the conversation that Dumbledore had with Remus, encouraging Remus to not register. He used flowery language, and only barely disguised his manipulation, at least in Sirius’ eyes. Remus would have an easier time getting a job, Remus would be able to do more things for the Order if everyone didn’t know about Remus’ status. He made it sound like he had plans to use Remus’ lycanthropy for the war, and Sirius was almost certain what Remus had been doing when he was missing. Sirius wasn’t stupid. He just didn’t know what exactly Remus might be doing. And why Remus didn’t want to talk about it.
“What were you afraid that he might do with it?”
If looks could kill, this man would be a pile of ash on the floor.
Sirius again tried to fight it, but Sirius was so tired. Images of Remus’ face in pain or emotionally devastated whenever they fought; of Peter’s face during the confrontation, of him seeming to disappear, scurrying off in his rat form, to do who knows what.
He thought of Harry crying for his parents. Lily’s posture on the floor. And of James.
He tried to focus on the pain of all of the images to distract himself. To fight.
“Tell the… other side,” Sirius bit out.
“Why do you think that?”
“He was secretive and on solo missions,” Sirius said.
“It’s war. Isn’t everyone secretive?”
“Yes,” Sirius answered.
“So what made this different? Quit trying to talk around it. Why specifically couldn’t you trust Remus Lupin? Who on the other side were you afraid he was talking to?”
Sirius couldn’t fight it anymore. He felt hollowed out, a feeling that he was afraid would never go away.
“I think he was going to the werewolves. Possibly working with them,” Sirius said.
“Why would he do something like that?”
“He is a werewolf,” Sirius gritted out through tears.
“How long?”
“Since he was four.”
The gallery once again gasped and whispering broke out.
“So, a werewolf went to Hogwarts?”
“Yes.”
“A werewolf you were in love with?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know for sure if he knew another werewolf?”
“No.”
“Ever seen one?”
Sirius hesitated. “N… Yes. When he was bitten.”
“Who bit him?”
“Greyback.”
At this, the presiding judge had to silence the crowd, on threat of being thrown out.
“We’re almost done, Mr. Black. So. Besides switching the secret keepers, did you have any part in the murder of James and Lily Potter?”
“No.”
“That’s all, take his memories of that night, and those surrounding. We’re done here.”
A man came up and pointed a wand at his head, pulling out strand by strand of a wispy white viscous fluid. It wasn’t pleasant, but it didn’t hurt. What did was when he heard whispers from behind him.
“We need to find Lupin.”
**
Sirius didn’t know what happened after that. He must have passed out, because he woke up in a bed in Saint Mungos. Moody was sitting there, but his eyes were constantly scanning the surroundings. Constant Vigilance. Sirius wondered if that would ever leave any of them. The terror of war, of death around every single corner.
“Oh, good. You’re awake. Dumbledore sent me here. We thought you should hear it from us. They found Lupin. He’s been sentenced to execution tomorrow morning.”
“What? Why? Oh, Merlin. No. Not him too.” Sirius buried his head in his hands and sobbed.
“Get it together. We can use your name and status to get a last word with him. But I’m afraid nothing else can be done. Albus tried.”
Sirius glared at him and grabbed his clothes, hurrying to get dressed and use the little bit of time that he had left to do something. Anything.
He appealed to Dumbledore, he stormed the ministry, threw around his name and the House of Black, something he thought would never happen. But it was all to no avail.
Moody was right and the most he could get was visitation.
Remus was deemed guilty of collaborating with Greyback and known death eaters, and there was a loophole in the law that werewolves weren’t guaranteed a trial. Especially those that were unregistered.
Sirius was led through the ministry, the cold and damp getting worse with each step. The ministry official who led them there performed a complicated wordless spell and the door creaked open. The sounds of crying filled his ears and he flinched away from the absolute terror and desperation. The man cast a patronus and led him to a small office to the side. It was warmer in here, brighter and Sirius waited until they brought Remus in and chained his arms to hooks on the wall. Remus was in a raggedy black and white outfit, but it did nothing to hide how thin he was, parts of it were stained with blood and Remus’ hair was matted. Sirius knew that the weight loss was ongoing, he’d seen it with his own eyes since Hogwarts, and selfishly tried to ignore it because it made his heart hurt. But he didn’t know how much of his beaten, bruised and bloody appearance now was from before or since he’d been brought to the ministry.
“Oh, Moony. I’m so sorry,” Sirius whimpered.
Remus met his eyes briefly and then hung his head. “It was always going to go this way. It’s not your fault.” Remus’ voice sounded hollow, like he was dead already.
“If I had just trusted you,” Sirius said, reaching out to touch him.
“Don’t,” a guard snapped, and Sirius withdrew his hand.
“Do it again, or if he tries to touch you, and you’re out of here,” the guard said with a glare.
“Sirius, don’t. It’s okay. I just don’t want to spend my last minutes with you like this.”
“Okay, whatever you need Remus. I’m going to keep trying. I love you, and you don’t deserve this. You deserve the world, for me to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, and showing you so much love.”
“I love you too. I don’t blame you, Kingsley told me what’s been happening. He’s been fighting too, but this is happening. They hate people like me, and I’d been seen with Greyback’s pack. I was spying for Dumbledore, but they don’t care.”
“Can’t Dumbledore…”
“No. They won’t call a hearing. Sirius, please don’t.”
“Right. Okay. I— Remus. How is this happening? I can’t lose you too,” Sirius said. He jumped to his feet, and without thinking ran the distance between him and Remus and pressed as close as he could. “I love you. I love you so much. I’m going to fix this. I have to fix this.”
Sirius was jerked back by the guard and Sirius barely registered that he was shouting. He shivered as a Dementor floated into the room with Remus, and his last glance was tears streaming down his lover’s face. He was all but dragged upstairs and told not to come back that night. He could be present for the execution, but even that would be taken from him if he came back before then.
He cast a tempus and saw that there were ten hours. He had ten hours to fix this.
Seven a.m. saw Sirius sitting behind a barred window sobbing. Remus was on the other side, with a Dementor in one corner, and a host of guards, like they thought that he might transform at will.
He watched in numb horror and disbelief as Remus was shot with a silver bullet and stared at the blood and his limp body straining against the chains.
Nine days. That was how long it took for his world to implode. He lost James and Lily on one night, discovered Peter’s betrayal soon after, spent days in a holding cell, and then fighting for Remus’ life.
And failing.
He screamed and sobbed until he was forced to take a potion.
He had horrific dreams. A reel of the people he loved most in his mind. Them smiling one second, and then dead the next.
He woke up in a cold sweat and thought about how much he’d lost. His lover, his brother, his platonic soulmate, so many of the friends he went to Hogwarts with, and others he’d come to know and care for while fighting by their side in the order. Voldemort was dead, but the cost and the weight of the victory was too heavy for him to bear. James, Remus, Lily and Harry would be left without parents…
Harry.
Sirius jumped from the bed, and knew that he had two things left to live for, no matter the places that he’d carved out in his heart that were now empty.
Peter.
Harry.
He had to live and see Peter behind bars or dead for his betrayal. And he needed to make sure that Harry was raised being loved and taken care of. He was even more convinced when he found out he’d been placed with Petunia and Vernon of all people.
He got Harry, his things, and set up the flat to raise his orphaned godson.
And to plot.
He didn’t know how, but the truth needed to come out.
The truth was that they trusted the wrong person. Sirius would carry that weight for the rest of his life. The truth was that Peter betrayed them and it directly led to the death of James, Lily and Remus. It would lead to the death of Peter himself.
Sirius would never be able to get the sight of James and Lily dead on the floor. Of watching Remus die.
This truth led to him and Harry having lost the most important people in their lives.
In his case, the truth sets nothing and no one free.
