Who: Peter, Terry & then Sirius When: Thursday morning Where: From Terry’s old house to Terry’s new house Rating PG (some minor language but Sirius mostly behaves himself) Status: Completed in GDocs
Peter had spent the last two days trying to figure out what to say to Terry. Well, that wasn’t true, first he’d been trying to convince himself the whole night had been some kind of amazing dream, then, once unconvinced, had gone to write in his journal only to have his wand lash out at him when he tried to create a ward. This had been followed by trying to figure out what the hell was going on with his magic, and then, after Terry’s messages which seemed to indicate that whatever had happened might not just be a one-time thing, trying to figure out what he was going to say.
It was all very complicated.
He had to come clean, obviously. A secret like that would never stay hidden in this village for long. Too many people knew who he was - what he was. And he knew if he wanted Terry not to utterly reject him, he had to do it himself. The idea was horrible, but, well, he had already told a fifteen-year-old James that he was going to end up betraying him in a way that would lead to his death, the death of his wife, and the orphaning of their child. That he was a killer and would never be able to wipe all that blood off his hands. If he could tell James, he could tell Terry.
Except that he had already lost James. He had never really had James. With Terry it already felt like there was so much more to lose.
He wasn’t sure what it meant, the two of them. But in one night Terry had succeeded in turning his entire world upside down and inside out. Everything felt different. Ridiculous as it might sound, the fluctuations in Peter’s magic alone proved that something had fundamentally changed. Terry might joke about it, but Peter was afraid of losing that, more than he was afraid of ever having to meet the Dark Lord again.
He offered to help Terry move, to the new place where he would be setting up with his little girl - whom Peter had yet to meet, perhaps for the best - in the hope that he could summon the courage to raise the subject. Of course he hadn’t considered that there would be plenty of heavy throwing objects to hand. “Not sure why you needed my help,” he said, still considering his opening as they began the last journey from the old house to the new. He was carrying one of the lighter of the boxes - Terry had very subtly handed it to him - with his good arm while balancing it with the other. “It’s only taken two trips. Anyway you could have magicked everything. I mean - not that I mind,” he added, quickly. “Obviously.”
----
“I’m a muggleborn, I like using a little elbow grease. Besides, you were here for my stuff, I’ve been moving Rosie’s things since dawn,” Terry said, a goofy grin on his lips as he dropped his box of clothes onto the porch of his new house. “I did use magic to put her furniture together, I can’t deny that. But I’ve never been very good with a hammer and nail,” he admitted. It had been easy to avoid what they needed to talk about, which was the whole snogging like teenagers thing. And then Peter leaving.
“Crap- I think I left a box of shoes at the house, in the closet,” Terry said, looking at the few boxes that were already on the porch- they were mostly kitchen things he’d picked up, books, clothes, and then Rosie’s things. But, well… Terry liked shoes, okay? It was one of those few little gay traits that he didn’t even bother to try and skip over or ignore.
“Mind going back with me?” he asked, smiling at Peter before he started walking backwards towards the older house, still watching him. He’d dressed down that day- jeans, a white shirt he’d been sweating in all day, and stubble on his cheek.
---
Peter, forgetting for a moment his predicament in the face of this much less drastic but much more amusing one, rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he clambered - and almost tripped - back over the boxes. “How did she amass so much stuff in so little time?” he wondered out loud. “Even I don’t have this much stuff.”
He flushed red a little as he finally managed to get his feet under him. “Come on then,” he said, with an exaggerated gesture. Perhaps he could put off the conversation until later. Maybe after they’d both had a drink or two. This probably wasn't’ the healthiest way to approach his new stance on honesty, but it had worked all right the other night. He had a good feeling about the whole magic situation now, despite the small fire that had almost set light to his bedspread. He was sure that all he needed was a new wand - the old one was probably completely confounded, he decided, and no wonder - and he’d be able to do it properly again. Maybe even better than before.
---
Terry needed a glass of water, a shower, and then to sit down before he went back to trying to set up the new house. It was really very nice to have a place of his own for Rosie to enjoy her own space in. He’d set up the room as nicely as he could, to the point of not even paying attention to his own room yet. Maybe he’d get Peter to help with that, maybe… well. He’d think about what else they could do in there later.
“Thanks for helping me, Peter,” Terry said, turning so that he was walking face-forward, allowing Peter to catch up with him. “It’s nice of you to do this, I know you work at lot at the store,” he said, opting to talk about Peter’s work rather than ‘you made out with me and then scrammed and now you’re back so I’m hoping that means you’re feeling better’. He put his hands into his pockets, slouching a little with his tired muscles. “After this, we could have something to eat. I mean, if you want to. Maybe we could talk a bit.”
---
Peter shifted his shoulders uncomfortably as they walked. Now that he was in the know, he was able to at least partially appreciate the way Terry’s t-shirt clung to his skin in the heat. If only he could think only about that and not about what he was going to have to do.
“Yeah,” he said, finally, when he realised his silence might be taken for a negative response. “It’s really okay, I wanted to help, and anyway there’s… there is some stuff I think… I do need to talk to you about.” He didn’t meant for it to come out sounding quite so ominous, but it did.
---
“Yeah,” Terry said, trying not to steal words out of Peter’s mouth. Peter was struggling with coming out, with being himself, and god only knew that Terry could understand that. He’d been in the closet for so long that he hardly knew what to do when he’d been twenty five and frustrated with hiding who he was. He’d gotten lucky, he’d been in the modern age and with good friends. He felt like maybe Peter hadn’t been around the best people in his own time… he seemed almost scared to be who he was.
And that was just sad to Terry. And he wanted to help, and yes now he had the very selfish aspect that he liked this man, more than he really ought to. He had a kid, he had a future husband, he had a life that Peter had nothing to do with. And yet, in that world, did anything but the kid part matter? And Rosie was a good kid, she bounced quickly and dealt with change in stride and he couldn’t help but imagine that Peter would either just never be introduced to her or he’d be her new favorite playmate.
The house was in view now, and Terry sped up just enough to unlock the door and open the door up. “I’ll be right back. And we should talk, about anything you want, okay?” Terry offered. He leaned in and gave Peter a quick kiss on the lips, one hand resting on Peter’s chest.
---
Peter felt the greater part of his resolve weaken miserably at Terry’s kiss. As they broke apart, he looked the older man in the eye, feeling his heart sink. “Terry I - I’m not -”
He swallowed and shook his head. He couldn’t do it here, in the street, but every kiss, every smile even, every wistful look Terry gave him was another stab of guilt to his heart. “Okay,” he said. “Later.”
He watched Terry go back into the house. He took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. “You can do this, Wormtail,” he murmured to himself. “You can do this.”
---
Sirius thought he’d been very good. He’d been keeping his nose out of trouble. He’d practically been a saint considering all the things that he’d wanted to do since he’d arrived. It had been hard to resist commenting every time he saw Peter’s writing. It was hard not to make wisecracks and goad him on, not the way that he used to...but more in the way that he used to taunt Snape. Sirius wasn’t really proud of the way he’d treated Snape in the past because at least he hadn’t really done much of anything to him. Pettigrew, however, had taken everything from him, so it took a great deal of restraint to hold back his hatred.
So, when he saw a very familiar figure a short distance away for the first time in years, his heart began pounding in his chest. It was the kind of rush that came accompanied by a pump of venom in his veins, the kind that burned and made him want to lash out. There was some kind of exchange between Peter and the man he was with, then the other bloke went into the house and Sirius thought to himself, Now’s as good a time as any.
His fingers itched for his wand, but he left it where it was as he crossed the distance, each of his long strides bringing him closer to the man that he’d fantasized about killing a million different ways. His keen hearing picked up some indistinct muttering, and even though he wasn’t sure what the other man was saying he gave it a guess, “Giving yourself a little pep talk there, Petey?”
--
Peter could not believe he had been so stupid. He had been so caught up in what had happened the other night, and his magic going screwy, and now freaking out about today, and he’d completely forgotten to be wary when he was out, by himself, on the street. Idiot.
He turned, very slowly, not wanting to give any indication of a sudden movement that might be read as an attack, and looked up into the face he had been expecting. Only it was even older, this time. And even more terrifying.
“S-Sirius,” he managed. He shifted back a little, out of arm’s reach, and came up against the fence.
Why? Why now?
“I… I heard you were back.”
---
There was something satisfying about the way that Peter subtly shifted away from him. He took more distance, and that was good. It meant he was afraid. Sirius wanted him to be afraid. It made the more feral part of him want to lunge, but he took a deep, controlling breath.
He’d always had to look down on Peter, but he never really thought of it that way. Now he did, and as he looked down at the man he’d once shared a bond of brotherhood with he felt no kinship. He felt no love. The eyes that used to be warm were just cold, unyielding steel.
“I”m sure you were just overjoyed when you heard the news,” he tried to make it light-hearted, but failed. It came out more like a snarl instead, and he clenched his jaw so hard a muscle twitched, “Remus told me you were here. He told me a lot of things.” He was also the reason that Sirius wasn’t trying to kill Peter right that second, but he didn’t want to give that bit away. Not yet.
“I had a lot to catch up on. You know, after spending six years rotting in a cell for your crimes.”
--
Peter flinched. "S-Sirius," he said again. He held up both his good left hand and the arm of the missing right one, to show he wasn't armed. He didn't even have his wand on him, since it had the tendency lately to blow up whatever he was trying to do. Stupid.
He deserved this, he knew. He'd taken James and Remus' promise of asylum for granted, he'd tried to become someone he wasn't, he'd tried to make a new life for himself, a dull, ordinary life full of fruit and day rosters and opening and closing tills. He should have known it would all come back to bite him in the form of a big black dog.
"S-Sirius," he said once more, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice. A week ago, he thought, he might have just stood there and taken it. Let Sirius take his best shot. Why not? It might make them both feel better. But now, with Terry about to come out of the house any second... "Sirius... look... I know, you're angry, and you've got every right to be, and we can do this, anytime you want, anywhere you want, I swear, just... just not now, okay? Not here. Please."
---
If his gaze had been cold before, it was positively frigid now. Despite the tremble in his voice that reassured Sirius he was scaring Peter, he had the nerve to ask him to wait. To turn around and have this confrontation at a more convenient time when he’d been chomping at the bit just waiting to come across him. That was kinder, he thought, than tracking him down wherever he was hunkering down like the rat that he was. As far as Sirius was concerned, he’d already done him a service by not finding him while he was locked up in a cabin with nowhere to run and relieving him of his own innards.
He laughed. It seemed to be his default reaction to ridiculous events that turned his world up on end. So Sirius tipped back his head and gave a humorless laugh that was as hollow as he felt in that moment, “Really?”
He shook his head softly, taking a step forward, “You…” His throat constricted, a pit churning in the bottom of his stomach as he looked down at the once-familiar face of the man who had betrayed him so severely.
“You want me to wait? Now’s not a convenient time for you to face me? Well, you know it wasn’t really convenient for me waiting around in Azkaban all this time either, Pete. You destroyed my family and my life, and you want me to just walk away because now is a bad time for you? You’ve got some nerve.” His fingernails bit into the palms of his hands they were curled so tightly, his voice rising, rumbling, and nearly a growl.
---
Peter flinched again, the words stabbing at him like knives. Perhaps because it had been so long since anyone had said them, or because he’d almost managed to forget them altogether, or maybe he had just changed so much since then that it was hard to believe he had ever been that man. Who would throw away his life - James’ life! - for a man who he might have believed would offer him something worth having.
He lowered his arms, slowly. He couldn’t look away from Sirius’ eyes. In them he saw the street where he had made that terrible split-second decision. Twelve bodies blown apart. It had all seemed so right at the time, so necessary. It was kill or be killed, hunt or be hunted. He’d been so high on the power, Dark Magic running constantly like lava through his veins, it had been exhilarating, freeing. No more was he merely the only-occasionally-useful one, the one who was handy for opening secret passages and getting into places without being seen. The one who was utterly useless to the Order where his one real advantage - his Animagus form - was a secret by necessity of law. He’d been strong. Powerful. Capable of killing twelve people with one spell.
The very thought of it now made him sick.
“You’re right,” he said, a little hoarsely as the words caught in his throat. He couldn’t deny Sirius this. As much as Sirius was unpredictable, and as much as Peter’s good memories of him were tainted, he owed Sirius, more than he owed Remus, maybe even more than he owed James, because Sirius had had to live with it all. And Sirius had almost been an accident. Not that that would change anything, he was sure. “You’re right,” he said again, fighting every urge he had to look around at the house. “We should… we should talk. Let’s… let’s go somewhere, okay? Somewhere private?” He reached out to touch Sirius lightly on the arm with his good hand.
---
There was something vindicating about hearing Peter say that he was right. Hearing those words from his lips somehow cooled the fire just a little bit. It still wasn’t enough to take the edge off completely, but it made the anger subside slightly. At least, it did until Peter started suggesting that they went somewhere private to talk. Private wasn’t good for either of them. Private meant there weren’t witnesses. There seemed to be more to all of this than just a desire for not airing their squabble, though. Sirius’ gaze shifted over to the house the same moment that Peter touched his arm.
He stepped back, wrenching his arm away from Peter’s touch. He couldn’t stand even the thought of it. His eyes were wild with a mad fury in that moment, “DON’T!” he roared, the word escaping him in an instinctive rush, “Do not touch me.”
A few moments passed where he just breathed deeply, looking down at Peter while his mind was taking in everything that had happened, all the things that were said. He was analyzing every move. Peter was trying to get him away from this house. That much he knew, and it probably had to do with the guy that had gone inside. Was he another Death Eater? Were they planning something? Or was it just some innocent bastard who was unknowingly playing into one of Peter’s schemes? He decided to find out. “Who’s in there that you don’t want hearing this, Peter?” It was a rhetorical question, really. Sirius didn’t want him to answer as much as he wanted to just find out for himself, so he didn’t wait to listen for an answer.
He took a few backwards steps and then all it took was purposeful steps up to the door. He knocked before Peter could say anything. Not a polite, neighborly knock like he probably should have done. Closed-fist urgent knocks that would reverberate to anywhere in the house.
---
Terry had been double checking his bedroom, the living room, bathroom, and kitchen for anything else he might have forgotten. There was no need for another trip after this one if he could just find the last of the legos and his mug; he might have packed the mug already, but he’d been busy double checking the kitchen cabinets when someone was knocking at his door. Assuming it was Peter who was tired of waiting, or maybe even trying to get Terry to come back out for another kiss, there was an actual smile on his face. He was happy. He felt good those days. Which was clearly why it was only right for Sirius to come in and ruin it all with reality.
“Peter- oh. Hi,” the stranger at the door took Terry a bit back, and something in his memory tugged at the man’s face. He felt as if he’d seen it before, and he wasn’t wrong, he had seen it years ago on wanted posters during his third year of school. But that had been forever ago, and he wasn’t recalling that this was Sirius Black in that moment.
“It’s really just one box, promise, I just took my time trying to find the last of Rosie’s toys. I’m Terry, I don’t think I know you,” he offered, putting a hand out and totally misreading the situation before him.
---
Sirius was quick to take note of the face of the bloke in front of him. No one that he knew. That was probably a good thing. Best case scenario. It wasn’t part of his family, so chances were rather slim that he was involved in any Death Eater business. There was still a small probability of that, but Sirius had a wand and he wasn’t afraid if it came to that.
When the bloke offered his hand, Sirius reached out to clasp it. He shook his hand and grinned, “Sirius. A pleasure, I’m sure,” he looked between Peter and Terry, letting go of the latter’s hand.
“Sorry to bother you. It’s just that Petey and I, we go way back, and he doesn’t seem to want me to meet you for reasons that I can only assume. So I thought I’d properly introduce myself and see if we can...clear the air.” He smiled wickedly, eager to see how this would go, but unbalanced enough not to care whether the results were in his favor or Peter’s.
--
"Sirius wait -" Peter barely had time to blurt out the words before Sirius was striding up the path to the house. He scrambled to follow, not sure what he was going to do, but he was too late anyway. He watched the door open and the following exchange with a growing horror at the look on Sirius' face, and the utter naive incomprehension on Terry's. Not here. Not today. Please...
"Sirius," he said quickly before Terry could reply, fighting the urge to try to tug his former friend away from the door. "Please, just - this is about you and me, right? It's not - he's just a friend." He did his best not to meet Terry's eyes while he spoke. "He doesn't have anything to do with this. Please let it go."
---
“A friend?” Sirius repeated sharply, though the comment was directed toward Peter, not Terry. He turned away from the man who was barely an acquaintance to face Peter better.
“Does your friend know about who you really are? Or are you just deceiving him like you did to everyone else? Does he know the truth like he deserves to?” Sirius was asking questions, but he was talking too quickly to wait for the answers.
Shaking his head, he scoffed, “We’re too far past letting it go. Letting it go ceased to be an option in 1981 when you became a murderous traitor.” He glowered at Peter, momentarily forgetting the fact that he’d brought another person into this mess.
--
Peter froze. He couldn’t bear to look at Terry, instead he stared back at Sirius, wishing the ground would rise up and swallow him whole. Maybe he should have let Sirius take a swing at him and walk off. It would have been better than this. But then it probably wouldn’t have stopped at just one punch. And Terry would have come out and probably tried to defend him, he realised. The very thought made him feel even sicker than he already did.
He didn't know what to say. Apologies would be empty. Assurances that it would never happen again, laughable and pointless. As easy as it was to forget, in this place, in the real world James and Lily were dead. And it was his fault. Mostly his fault. He wanted to protest, but at the same time as he stood there frozen in both time and space, wishing to disappear and hearing the words ring around his head, he thought, Oh Sirius. It was so much earlier than that. You lost me over a year before James died, before Harry was even born. Why didn’t you notice? Why didn’t any of you notice?
The thought hardened him a little. He set his shoulders, not that it made any difference with Sirius’ added height advantage. “What do you want from me?” he asked, low. “That’s not who I am anymore. I know it doesn’t change anything, but you don’t know, Sirius, you weren’t there. None of you were there. I lost myself, and I did… I did some horrible, unforgivable things…” he swallowed and clenched his one remaining fist. “I’m so sorry. I know you don’t believe me, but I am. If you’d let me tell you everything…” It still wouldn’t change anything. “I’ve never… I think I understand now, why I… why I let myself… I didn’t before, not even to explain to Remus, or James….”
He hung his head. “I don’t deserve anything,” he said, his voice becoming choked. “Forgiveness, or… or friendship… I know. Remus has been… kind. James too. They don’t have to be. You don’t have to be. I’ll even…” he swallowed hard. “I’ll… I’ll give you a wizard’s duel if you want, all official with witnesses and seconds and everything. I don’t want to fight you, but if that’s what you want….”
---
What do you want from me? It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked that question since he arrived in the village. It was becoming a theme. The difference was that Sirius didn’t want anything from Peter. He truly didn’t. Apologies meant nothing to him. He couldn’t look at him without feeling his blood boil. He kept quiet while Peter tried to explain, but he didn’t feel sorry for him. He hated hearing the names of his friends coming from the lips of the man who had betrayed them.
He had to admit that the idea of a wizard’s duel was tempting. He could get what he wanted that way, at least partially. He thought back to what Remus had been so desperate to convince him of before, however, and it deflated his interest in that plan immediately, “No. No wizard’s duel. Not because I don’t want to, but I promised Remus that I would try. For Harry and James, I promised I’d leave you breathing.” It left a bad taste in his mouth, but he tried to focus on the list of people that needed him here and why it would be a bad idea to kill Peter one of the many ways he’d dreamed of.
--
“I’m sorry, can someone please explain what’s happening?” Terry asked, stepping out of his house and wiping his sweaty brow off with an undershirt he’d found in his closet. He held the dirty shirt in one hand at his side, his fist tight around it as duels were brought up. He had assumed that maybe Sirius was a man who had hoped that when Peter came out, he’d go to him and not someone else. Terry had seen that before; gay friends who waited for the other friend to come out and then the other friend found someone new before a move could be made.
“No dueling, Jesus,” he didn’t know what was happening, he had no earthly idea. But this man was accusing Peter of things that didn’t seem to fit with Peter, with the sweet man who made his heart beat a little quicker and who made him want to get a little domestic. Because, for once, Terry Boot was happy. He didn’t feel like he couldn’t get out of bed in the morning, because he had to in order to take care of Rosie. She was his motivation to stay away from the dark thoughts that had almost made him attempt to take his own life, and Peter was starting to creep into that as well. Because Peter made Terry happy. And if he could make Rosie happy as well, and if they could both make Peter happy… well.
“What’s going on here?”
--
Peter looked helplessly between Terry and Sirius. It felt rather like staring at the best parts of both his past and his future, simultaneously slipping through his fingers. He forced himself to look Terry in the eyes. “Terry - I - “ for a moment he couldn’t think of anything at all to say. “I was… I was going to tell you,” he said finally, so quietly it was almost inaudible, concious all the time of Sirius looming over him with a look that said leaving Peter breathing was one of the last things he wanted to do. “I swear I was. I tried to tell you.”
Before Sirius came in and called me a murderer in front of you. That’s not how I wanted you to find out.
---
“Tell me what?” Terry asked, running a hand through his messy blonde hair and trying to understand what is happening. “Look, is this… is he a friend or something? Because I can’t really… I have Rosie I need to think about first, she’s just a little kid,” he said, trying to work himself as sensitively as he could. Peter was from the 80’s, and this guy might have been as well, screaming out terms like ‘boyfriend’ might be outing Peter before he was ready to be outed by even himself.
“Do we maybe need to go inside and cool down?” he suggested, trying to be the sensible Ravenclaw of the situation.
---
“We were friends. Just friends. Well, that’s a lie, actually. We were brothers, more like, at least I thought that we were. That was up until he joined up with the Death Eaters. Except he didn’t just abandon us because he was on the inside and I’m sure his new Master just loved that. ‘Cause I was idiot enough to trust him, and it got two of my best friends murdered. It got my godson orphaned. Then - and this is the real kicker - I went to confront him about it and he blew up a dozen people and the whole damn street and framed me for all of it. So I’ve been the one sitting in Azkaban,” he roughly pushed up his own sleeves revealing nothing but smooth, unmarked skin, “Completely innocent. Without trial and no bloody proof.”
He was on a roll and he couldn’t help it. He knew that Remus had mentioned something about Peter trying to change, but nothing except the past seemed to matter in that moment, “Meanwhile, this bastard’s been free,” on an impulse, despite his aversion to Peter, he reached out and grabbed his arm, wrenching up the sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark there, “wearing this on his arm.” His grip on Peter’s arm was tight, probably too rough, for a few long moments until he let him go with equal force.
--
When he’d been seven years old, his mother had taken him into the countryside on one of her few attempts at motherhood. She’d allowed him to run around the heather and the cricks, and he’d come upon a little bird that had been dead for at least a week. The way the smell and worms had moved around it had made him feel physically sick in a way that hadn’t felt again for a very long time. But as that dark mark was revealed on the man that he’d spent time actually considering and thinking about as a future partner and someone in his daughter’s life, he felt that same sickness creep up into his belly and throat.
A Death Eater wanted muggleborns dead, he knew that. He was a muggleborn, he was everything that Peter… Peter Pettigew was against. He knew his war history. He’d read the books later written about Sirius Black the martyr and war hero.
“You’re Black. Sirius Black,” he said, swallowing down the thickness in his throat, his eyes still focused on that dark mark. “Which means you’re Peter Pettigrew. You’re not- you’re not-” he didn’t know what to call him. ‘My Peter’? They weren’t dating. ‘Peter’? He didn’t know if a death eater would understand.
--
Peter let out a strangled yelp as Sirius grabbed him and dragged up his sleeve. He stumbled back when the bigger man let him go, and stood there, shaking, sleeve still askew around his elbow. The Mark had not burned for months and was little more than a faint red line against the skin, but perfectly visible in the sunlight.
He saw comprehension come onto Terry’s face, and heard his own name like a slap in the face. So he did know. He wondered with a kind of sick horror whether Terry had ever met him in the future. He hoped not, with every fibre of his being.
“Yes,” he said, his voice heavy with misery. “Please,” he begged, “believe me, I was going to tell you. But I’m not like that anymore, I swear.”
---
Terry watched him, hearing his words, but they did nothing but make him feel sicker. And in that sickness, he found an anger. He didn’t care about being politically correct or keeping his pronouns or terms neutral anymore as he felt words bubble up from the bile in his stomach to through his throat and out of his mouth. “I’m supposed to believe you?” he asked, wide eyed. “I’m a bloody muggleborn, my daughter is anything but pureblood I’m willing to bet, and I’m supposed to believe that you’re not like that anymore?”
He wanted to go into the house, slam the door, and never look at Peter again. But he knew that he needed to go home, to unpack, and put his energy into caring for his kid. Maybe this was the sign he needed to stop fooling around and just shut down his social life and play dad for then on. “I thought about how I wanted to introduce you to my kid, Peter. I thought about things like first dates and being together, and you’re…” he couldn’t even word it, instead he turned his back, closing his eyes as if he might open them up and find himself in bed after a bad dream.
---
“It… it wasn’t like that,” Peter tried to explain, desperately. Ignoring Sirius as much as that was possible, he took a step closer to the door. “Not for me, not really. If you just... let me explain…”
---
The longer that Sirius watched, the better he felt about the decision. This guy, this muggleborn bloke, who had a kid there was getting into something that he didn’t know the truth of. He was getting in over his head without knowing the facts, and Sirius felt justified for telling him what he really should know. It had been a relief to hear Terry recognize their identities based on the details of the story. At least it seemed that some point in history things really did work themselves out.
It also dawned on him that this was more than just a friendship. It was a potential relationship. That Peter was gay or bisexual at the very least. The revelation didn’t particularly surprise him. Peter had never really dated. It didn’t perturb him either, but then he’d always been one to accept differences.
“No matter why you joined it doesn’t change the fact that you killed innocent people, Peter. What possible explanation could absolve you from that? And don’t even try saying you were under the Imperius Curse.”
---
“I’m not saying -” Peter turned to glare at Sirius. He felt utterly trapped between the two of them. He turned back to Terry. Terry mattered more, right now. If only because he thought he stood more of a chance. “Terry, look - everything he said is true. I’m not denying it…. I did things… I hurt people…” he swallowed. “I betrayed my friends.. I was messed up, I barely knew what I -” he choked back what could only be called an excuse. “There are reasons… but they’ll never be good enough. I know that.” He glanced back at Sirius with tears brimming in his eyes. “I know that.”
Shakily he reached for Terry’s arm. “But that’s not me anymore. The things that have happened here… I’m different. You can ask Remus - Lupin - he knows - even James…” he hesitated - James had seen enough to know he probably wasn’t dangerous, but whether he would defend him to Terry was another question.
“I… I would never hurt you,” he promised, his voice shaking with suppressed tears. “Or Rosie. I wouldn’t, ever.”
---
Terry didn’t pull away from Peter when the other man touched him, but he did cross his arms, hunching a bit as he tried to make himself as small as he could, to give people less room to touch him, less ability. He wanted to yell at Peter, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually going that far. He wanted to throw up, or run, but he couldn't rage the way another man could. “Remus Lupin was my professor during third year. He was the only Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who ever taught us anything,” he said, his voice staying calm despite how he felt.
“I was at Hogwarts when the battle happened, when he died. He was- he is. He’s a damn good man. I’m not surprised he has forgiven you,” Terry continued. He took a deep, shuddering breath before pulling away from Peter’s grasp. “But I’m not that good of a man.”
“Don’t ever talk to my daughter. Not in person, not in her journal. Don’t even look at her. And leave me the hell alone.”
---
Peter had been partly expecting this. He had hoped, if he broke it gently, if he explained properly, he might be able to prevent it, to get Terry to see that he was trying to change and Terry was helping that, more than anyone ever had, already. But this had always been the more likely scenario. Still, it hurt more than he had thought it would. Right then, he truly hated himself. He stood there for a moment in silence, fighting the urge to get down on his knees and beg. It wouldn’t do any good, after all.
He tucked his left arm under the other and struggled for a moment until he could tug his sleeve down again, since he couldn’t pull it down himself. It was humiliating, but that was just the icing on the cake at this point. “Okay,” he said, in barely more than a whisper, looking away. He couldn’t bear to see the anger and disappointment in Terry’s eyes anymore. “I’ll go. I’m just… I’m so sorry.” He turned to leave and came face to face with Sirius, who had been standing there watching, no doubt enjoying every second of the destruction he had witnessed. Are you happy now? the dark part of his mind demanded, and he had to bite back a demand for him to get out of the way.
“ May I go?” he asked instead, a biting tone entering his voice despite the tears still threatening to fall.
---
Sirius waited for some kind of twinge. He waited to see if he’d feel anything like remorse or pity or shame for what he’d just done, but none of those things came. Terry needed to know. It was as simple as that. Now he could make an informed decision about things, and it seemed that he’d made his choice. He didn’t expect Terry to be grateful or anything. He wouldn’t blame him if he was mad that Sirius had popped his happy little bubble of ignorance. He just felt honour bound to do what was right.
The request from Peter surprised him slightly, but he didn’t let it show. He just stepped back, gesturing outwardly, “Be my guest.”
Looking back at Terry, he paused, knowing he should probably go too. He sighed softly, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that he wasn’t who you thought he was. I just...you needed to know.”
---
Peter took one last look over his shoulder, and hurried past Sirius and down the path. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to get away. For such a short time he’d felt hope, a feeling he hadn’t known for so, so long. To have it shattered all at once was one thing. To know that it was his own fault, that he deserved it all, was another thing altogether. He had to find somewhere peaceful, somewhere quiet where he could be alone and figure out what he was going to do.
One thing was for sure, it was definitely time he looked into getting a new wand.