a handshake of carbon monoxide
3rd September, 1979
“Do you want two sugars, Pete?”
“I don't know, I'm trying to cut back, mate…”
“Two then, yeah?”
A chuckle, “Yeah, go on.”
Sirius lets out snort, tossing the sugar cubes into Peter's favourite mug: a well-loved gift from James that simply reads ‘I am a thousand rats in a trench coat’ along the side. He gives both drinks a stir before picking one up in each hand, and carefully carrying them into his living room.
“Your drink, my darling.” he drawls, placing the mug in front of his friend.
Peter lets out a small gasp, “Oh thank you, good sir!”
The pair of them sip their drinks in silence for a moment, relishing in the calm of the evening. It's just nice, and Sirius has missed his friend.
“How are you doing, Pete? I feel like we haven't spoken in weeks…” Sirius’ words are barely a whisper, afraid of wrecking the fragile calm that he's finally managed to acquire.
Peter gives a small, bitter smile, “I mean… how is anyone doing? We're at war.”
All Sirius can do is hum in agreement. He's right. They are at war, and have been for years now. It's just harder to accept now that he's lonelier than he's ever been. Now that everyone has retreated into the safety of their own homes.
“What about you, Pads? I can't imagine it's easy with Remus constantly being away,” Peter whispers, brows pulling down in sympathy, “Do you even know where he is right now?”
No. Sirius can't even force the word past his teeth. No, he has no idea where Remus is at the moment, or if he's safe.
He settles for just shaking his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Peter understands, though - always does, “You miss him.”
“Mm.”
“Me too. I miss everyone.”
“Me too.”
“And all this business with the spy… it's scary.”
Sirius is suddenly a lot more alert, “Scary?”
“Mm. The idea that it could be any one of them,” Peter shakes his head in sorrow, “The fact there's a person that we actually didn't really know at all.”
The air gets completely stolen from Sirius’ lungs. He’s been thinking these things, of course he has, but… it's different hearing someone else say it out loud. There is a spy. And it is one of the people that Sirius trusts more than anything.
“Do you think it could be…” Sirius chokes on the words, unable to look anywhere but the chip in the rim of Peter's mug, “Could it be…him? Do you think it's him?”
He doesn't have to say the name, Peter's eyes immediately shoot to the photo in the centre of the mantelpiece. A shrunk-down, sun-tanned Remus smiles right back, hand up to shield himself from the glare of the sun.
“Pads, I… I don't know what to say…”
Sirius slumps down in his seat, body folding in on itself. He hates even thinking it but… he can't help it. Remus has been so secretive lately, so absent. The paranoia that has lived within Sirius since he was a small child has been rearing its ugly head with a ferocity like never before. It could be Remus, it really could be. How can Sirius rule him out if he doesn't even know him anymore?
Exhausted tears well in his eyes as he raises a shaking hand to his temple, “I- Fuck.”
“I’m sorry.”
“‘S okay”
“It’s not.”
“It’s fine.”
“I’m still sorry.”
All Sirius can do is shake his head, throwing a pitiful attempt of a smile towards his friend, “‘S alright, mate. Still got each other, haven't we? Pads and Wormy.”
Peter huffs out a laugh, nodding his head, “Yep. Pads and Wormy.”
Sirius allows his head to dip onto Peter's shoulder, who gives him a squeeze on the arm. The fading sunlight washes the room in a warm, orange glow.
“I love you, Worms.”
“Mm. You too, Pads.”
-
26th October, 1979
“Okay, I'm going to throw a lot of information at you and I need you to just shut up and listen.”
“Sure, but I-”
“Sirius. I said shut up.” Regulus snaps, eyes on the floor.
The pair of them had migrated to the living room a few minutes ago and have been sitting in heavy silence ever since. Regulus is settled awkwardly in the shabby armchair, looking so horribly out of place in his dark shirt and stiff trousers. His face isn't doing that pitiful, verge-of-tears thing anymore but he certainly looks… frazzled.
The younger man takes a deep breath and steels himself, moving to finally look Sirius in the eye, “Right. Okay, so I've defected from the Death Eaters, if you haven't gathered that yet. He's a sham and I was… stupid for ever listening to our parents. And I'm sorry.”
“Reg, it's-”
“Shut up. It’s not important. I've left his ranks and he doesn't know yet, I'd like to keep it that way. I've… discovered something about him,” He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, “Tom Riddle has created a Horcrux. It's a kind of Dark Magic that attaches a fragment of a wizard's soul to an object. It's…really awful magic, Sirius, it requires the murder as means to tear the soul. And I have reason to believe that he's done it multiple times.
“The only way to defeat him is to track down each Horcrux and destroy it. I'm not quite sure how to do that yet, but I know that it will require incredibly powerful magic. I'm aware of the hiding place of one Horcrux, I have my theories of what the others could be, and-”
Sirius’ head is spinning, “Reg, what are-”
“Sirius, please. Just let me finish,” Regulus speaks sternly but his eyes are wide and pleading, “I was going to do it alone but… two weeks ago, I found out who the spy is.”
“What? You know who it is?” Sirius gapes, heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach.
“Yes, I just said that-”
“Well, who? Who is-”
“Well, I was getting there, Sirius-”
“Why did you wait so long to tell-”
“It's Peter Pettigrew.”
The question dies in Sirius’ throat, “It's… what?”
Regulus can't look him in the eye, “The spy is your friend Peter Pettigrew. I- I have proof if you… if you don't believe me.”
“What- what are you-”
“He came into the last Death Eater meeting, and was…honoured for his undying loyalty to the war effort. It’s- I’m sorry. I’m just… sorry.”
The hair on Sirius’ arms is standing on end, blood roaring in his ears. His stomach rolls uncomfortably in his hollow shell of a body. Peter? The thought isn’t computing in his mind. There is no way small, meek, caring Peter is the-
There is no way Pete is the-
He can’t be the-
There is no way that he’s-