Deny Thy Father

Part IV- To Have Loved and Lost

The sun was bright and hot on their backs as two boys jumped off a raft into the cool water of the stream. They broke free up to the surface, gasping and laughing with the sheer freedom of the summer day.

"This is great," Sirius said, folding his arms on the raft and floating with the current. "Where'd you get this from, anyway?"

"Remus and I built it last month," Peter answered, his fingers trailing over one of the sticks. "He was here for a couple of weeks."

"That's right," Sirius said, a pang of jealousy flooding him as he thought of the sun-filled days that he'd spent indoors. "You guys must have had a blast."

Peter shrugged, but his pleasure was obvious.

Sirius hauled himself up onto the raft, stretching out under the sun. The past eight days with the Pettigrews had given him something he'd never had the chance to acquire; a suntan. "You guys are so lucky," he said wistfully.

"I'm surprised you and James haven't gotten together."

Sirius shrugged. "Didn't really have time last month, I guess, and this month he's in Spain."

"Holiday?"

"Yeah. And my parents didn't suggest it, and there was no way I was going to ask him to come back to my place."

"Once was enough, huh?" Peter smirked.

"More than enough," Sirius agreed fervently. "Besides, this is great. I'm glad I was able to come here."

Peter blushed under the praise. "I didn't think you'd like it."

Sirius hadn't been sure he would, either. His first choice had been to stay with James, and failing that, Remus. But James's family was gone for the two weeks his parents wanted him and Regulus away, and Sirius knew better than to even mention Remus's name these days, much less suggest he spend time at a Muggle-wizard house. His father had suggested Peter, and Sirius had agreed with trepidation. Not because he didn't like Peter, but because during their first summer he'd had a weekend to see the Pettigrew's lifestyle.

Paul Pettigrew did not have the fortune and authority Arden Black possessed as the Head of the Department of Mysteries. He didn't have the prestige and influence that Timothy Potter had as the star columnist for the Daily Prophet. He didn't even have the consolation of the mystery and intensity that characterized the former Auror Damien Lupin. It led to a modest, humble lifestyle with nothing remarkable about it. Sirius was afraid it would be worse than home. But nothing had prepared him for the reality.

"Your father works where?" he'd demanded incredulously when Peter had told him.

"He makes candy," Peter replied as calmly as possible, but with a mischievous grin. Chocolate Frogs, Every Flavor Beans, Fizzing Whizbees... he makes them all, but his specialty is the frogs."

No, there was no wealth, power, prestige, mystery, authority, or anything else, but Sirius didn't remotely care.

But the Pettigrew house fascinated Sirius even more than Paul Pettigrew's profession. It was a small thatched cottage in the country, looking like it belonged on the pages of a story book. It wasn't fancy, but it was clean and neat and comfortable. Peter had his own room, his younger sisters Penny and Patricia shared one. The windows were always open and sunlight streamed in freely. The back yard was a paradise, with lush green grass, trees that were perfect for climbing, a playhouse, and most notably, the stream that they swam in.

Peter got along with his sisters. Sirius couldn't believe it. Regulus had never been anything more than a presence to be avoided, tolerated, or pestered, depending on the circumstance. But Penny and Patricia were, well, human. They were funny, and they were actually a lot of fun. Sirius gained a lot of respect for Penny the day she suggested they booby-trap the welcome mat, and eight-year-old Patricia trailed after him with dolls and broken toys, imploring first Peter and then Sirius to fix them.

"Patricia will be heartbroken when you leave," Peter teased Sirius as they sat on the raft. "She has such a crush on you."

"She does not."

"Oh yes she does. Not a hand on my sister, Black."

They both laughed.

"Seriously, I think half the girls at Hogwarts have a crush on you," Peter sighed.

"Me? No. Not really?"

"Oh, stop playing dumb, Sirius. You know they do."

He did and he didn't, to be honest. It was there, and it was a fact he was vaguely proud of, but he didn't have much interest in it. Romance and relationships were uncharted territory, and right now uncharted territory was the last thing he needed.

He couldn't say it, even to himself, but the thought scared him.

Peter apparently didn't have much interest in the subject himself. "Penny starts Hogwarts this year," he was saying. "Which House do you think she'll be in?"

"Hufflepuff," Sirius answered immediately. "Your whole family seems the type. And that's not an insult."

"No. I don't take it as one." Peter kicked his legs, idly splashing some water. "You like my family, don't you, Sirius?"

"Very much." I wish they were mine. The thought was intensely disloyal, both to his own family and to Peter. "Thanks for letting me stay here, Peter. It's been the best."

***

The nights took a different pattern from the sun-drenched days of freedom. Once Mr. Pettigrew was home, and the whole family would gather around the table. Dinner was always simpler than it was in the Black house, with everyone shouting across each other and passing dishes of food around instead of being served formally by a house elf. There was laughter and warmth, and afterwards there was always some sort of family activity. Some nights it was a game; Exploding Snap or a chess tournament, or gobstones. One night it was a story telling contest. Sirius was shocked to discover just how well Peter could tell tales; it wasn't only his little sisters that were sitting on the edges of their seats, listening with wide eyes, but the parents and Sirius himself. And several nights Mr. Pettigrew pulled out records, putting them on a charmed Muggle turntable. The songs definitely tended towards the corny- Sirius hadn't heard most of them before. But there were a few he learned the words to, and he even allowed Patricia to pull him out as the others were dancing.

It was a different world from the one Sirius had grown up in. Poorer, perhaps, certainly not as luxurious, but he wondered if Peter had ever realized just how good he had it.

***

His parents had been very distant when he'd returned home, from both him and Regulus. For once, he and his brother had something of a truce, both united in their bafflement. His father was out late hours, and his mother rarely came out of the study. Sirius had dark suspicions about their activities, but didn't ask. Over the summer, especially from James's letters and his time at the Pettigrews, he'd heard more and more about this Lord Voldemort. He hadn't liked what he'd heard. He hadn't liked his father's vehement approval of Lord Voldemort's pureblood policies, either.

He was grateful to be standing here at Platform 9 and ¾, waiting to go back to school. He was less than grateful that Regulus was standing beside him, breathing heavily with excitement and being fussed over by their mother.

"Do you have everything, Regulus?" she asked him. "Your wand? Your books? Your owl?"

Sirius whirled. "His owl?"

Regulus smirked. "My owl," he said, holding up the cage proudly. Inside was a small, tawny owl. Sirius stared in shock. He'd never been given an owl. He opened his mouth to say something and shut it abruptly. He wasn't pointing out anything anyone didn't know.

"Take care of your brother, Sirius," his mother was saying. "And Regulus, see to it that Sirius spends at least one week out of detention for a change." She hugged Regulus to her, then patted Sirius on the cheek. His father shook Sirius's hand, and then hugged Regulus. Sirius turned away... right into the face of Damien Lupin.

"Not you," he muttered before he could stop himself.

Mr. Lupin scowled back. Behind him, he heard his father mutter something about ex-Aurors and sluts. He didn't have to even guess what that was all about.

"Where's Remus?" Sirius asked, grumpy.

"Outside the platform, with his mother. Have you seen James or Peter?"

"Not yet, no." Sirius arched his eyebrows at Mr. Lupin, forcing himself to relax. "Is he hurt again?"

"No. Are you?" Mr. Lupin's amber eyes shifted towards the Blacks and narrowed.

"No." Sirius barked the word. "I'm fine."

Mr. Lupin looked doubtful, but before Sirius could say anything his father grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Get away from my son. Now."

Mr. Lupin simply raised his eyebrows. "I was having a conversation with your son. There's no law against that."

"It's against my rules. My son will not speak to filth such as yourself."

"Dad!"

Fingers tightened on Sirius's shoulder. "Before you know it, Lupin, people like yourself will not be tolerated."

"And before you know it, Black, people like yourself will be in deep trouble. Sirius, Remus isn't hurt, but he's... sick. You understand what I mean?"

Exhausted. The full moon had been last night. Sirius nodded.

"Will you see to it he gets to the school?"

"Sirius already has a charge. His brother is attending school for the first time this year."

Their eyes clashed, and Sirius wanted to get between them and push them apart. He wanted to shout at them and tell them both to stop being ridiculous. He wanted to punch his father for looking down on Mr. Lupin, he wanted to shove Mr. Lupin for looking down on his father.

"I can take care of them both," he declared.

The icy stalemate broke as they looked at him.

"Honestly. Regulus will be fine and Remus is just overtired. And here comes James anyway."

His father nodded slightly and drew back to converse in low tones with his mother. Mr. Lupin's eyes narrowed to slits but he turned away, leaving to get Remus. James stopped and waved from a safe distance.

"Well, Twerp, ready to go to Hogwarts?" Sirius asked his brother.

"I don't need you to take care of me, you know," Regulus said quite haughtily.

"Who cares? Give me your owl and let's go."

He turned once more to look at his parents. His mother's eyes were fixed on Regulus, and his father was watching Damien Lupin step through the barrier. "Well," Sirius said awkwardly, "see you at Christmas."

"Behave yourselves," Arden shouted as Regulus and Sirius made their way towards the train. Elizabeth waved.

Frustrated and angry, Sirius stormed towards the train, and stopped abruptly at the door. "What are you waiting for?" Regulus demanded. "Get on."

"I'm waiting for Remus," Sirius said sharply. "But if you don't need me, go ahead and get on yourself."

Regulus muttered something about half-bloods and Sirius's loyalty, but he ignored it.

James finally caught up with them. "Hey Sirius," he said, clapping his friend on the back. "What's with the babysitting service?"

"James, you remember the dimwitted twerp. Dimwitted Twerp, you remember my friend James."

"Hey, D.T.," James said companionably. "What've you been up to these days?"

Regulus scowled. "Shove it, Spikes."

Sirius smirked condescendingly. "Want to grab us a compartment, James? I haven't seen Pete yet, but Mr. Lupin said Remus is... sick." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

"Mudbloods never come to any good," Regulus opined.

"Yeah. I'll get us one. Hey, DT, come with me." James grabbed Regulus's arm and Sirius mouthed a thanks.

"Is that your brother?"

Sirius jumped. "Hey Pete. Yeah, that's Regulus. Looks like he's going to be in our compartment this year."

"Oh good. We can find out for ourselves if he's really as terrible as you say."

"He is. Go see for yourself," he smirked.

"Are you coming?"

"Waiting for Remus. Mr. Lupin said he wasn't looking too good."

Peter pulled a face. "I'll be so glad when we get this transformation done."

"You and me both. Go get on the train. I'll be on as soon as Remus is here."

He was beginning to worry; Mr. Lupin had been gone a long time. Finally, just as the train was about to leave, Mr. Lupin appeared with Remus, both of them looking flushed and agitated.

"Have a good term, Remus," Mr. Lupin was saying as they rushed to the train. "Owl us when you get there-"

"Dad, I'll be fine." Remus was panting and did look terrible, but Sirius had seen his friend look much worse. "Let me go."

Mr. Lupin pulled Remus in for a quick, tight hug and a kiss on the forehead, and something murmured that Sirius couldn't hear. The warning whistle blew, and Remus pulled away. "We've got to get on the train."

"All right." Mr. Lupin finally released him. "Have a good term. I love you."

"Love you too, Dad. Bye." Remus yanked his trunk up, Sirius giving him a hand. His eyes met Mr. Lupin's, but the older man didn't say a word.

"Sheesh, I'm fourteen," Remus was muttering as they dragged their trunks down the car, searching for James and Peter. "If I haven't fallen apart by now, I'm not going to."

"I thought you were about to, the way he was talking," Sirius admitted.

"I'm about ready to fall over, but not apart. Did they have to pick the compartment furthest from the door?"

"Let's take a breather."

"Sirius, I'm fine!"

He wasn't. He was white and shaking from the effort. But Sirius knew better than to say that, and besides... "It's not you. It's me. What did my father say to you guys?"

"How do you know your dad said anything?"

"I took Divination last year. I knew how to interpret my tea leaves this morning." He ducked the swat Remus aimed at him. "Seriously. Your dad was nice enough to me before, and when he came back with you he looked like he was ready to spit nails at me."

"Oh. Yeah, they had words."

"What words?"

"The usual from your dad," Remus said lightly, knocking his head back against the wall. "Mudblood, disgrace, bad influence..." Sirius snorted. "Yeah, that's what Dad said. He said if anything, you're a bad influence on me. Then there were the general testosterone-laden taunts about ex-Aurors and Dark wizards who made too much money, and then a threat to keep your son away from mine-"

"Who made that threat?" Sirius interrupted.

Remus cleared his throat. "Kind of funny, that, they said it at almost the same time. If it hadn't been so serious I probably would have said jinx or something. Then my father told your father to keep his fists to himself, your father tried to punch mine, and my father froze him with an Impedimeta hex and got me to the train."

"Oh. Goodie."

"Yeah."

"Your Dad's a bit on the overprotective side, isn't he?"

"Your father's a bit on the psychotic side, isn't he?"

"My dad can beat up your dad," Sirius sing-songed.

"Only if my dad doesn't jinx your dad," Remus taunted back. "Come on. Screw them and let's go find the others."

They were sitting in a compartment that did feel like it was as far from the door as possible. Regulus was sitting by the window, arms crossed as he glared out. James was sitting across from him and cheerfully ignoring him, reading a transfiguration book Sirius had sent him, his lips moving as he learned an incantation. Peter, sitting next to James, had the strained look of someone trying to make polite conversation with a brick wall.

"Sorry, guys," Sirius said as he and Remus stumbled in. "We got held up."

"No problem." James took his feet off the seat. "You okay?" he asked Remus.

"Fine," Remus snapped. Sirius shook his head in warning.

"What about you, DT?" he asked, sitting next to his brother. "I quite like that nickname. DT."

"Shut up." Regulus leaned around Sirius, staring at Remus with an avid curiosity. "Is that him?"

Remus had settled down onto the seat next to Sirius, his feet on the bench across from him next to Peter, head tipped back as he pulled a cloak over him. "I don't think we've met," he said, not bothering to look over at Regulus. "I'm Remus Lupin. You're Sirius's brother Regulus, right?"

"It is him," Regulus said to Sirius. "The Mudblood."

"Say that again and I'll pound you," Sirius threatened.

"Well, that's what he is," Regulus complained. "I've heard Mother say so. She doesn't like him."

"She's never met him." Sirius glanced across at his two friends. James was glowering and Peter was looking like Regulus was an apparition from the cemetery of bad taste.

"Are you really a Mudblood?" Regulus ignored his brother and addressed Remus.

Remus didn't even open his eyes. "I've been called much worse," he said in an offhanded manner. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to sleep."

"Rude," Regulus said under his breath.

"Very," Peter and James agreed, both glaring at Regulus.

Sitting between his brother and his friend, Sirius had a sick feeling it was going to be a long train ride.

***

It wasn't. Remus had fallen asleep quickly. While Damien Lupin might have exaggerated the severity of the situation, his exaggeration had been based in truth, and Remus was deeply exhausted. His head sagged against Sirius's shoulder, and he didn't even wake when the lunch cart came around.

Regulus, on the other hand, had decided that conversation with his older brother's friends was beneath him, and pulled out a book. For the first time that he could remember, Sirius felt something like affection for the twerp. Regulus was going to find that Hogwarts was a very different world from Grimmauld Place, and Sirius's place in this new world wasn't like the one at home.

It was a surprise when Regulus fell asleep as well, leaning against his brother.

The heavy, warm weight of his friend on one side, and the heavy, warm weight of his brother on the other. They were just sleeping. Not arguing, not fighting. So why did Sirius feel like he was caught in the middle figuratively as well as literally?

***

Overactive imagination, he'd chided himself. It was certainly an appropriate characterization- how else would he and James land in so many detentions? What he'd felt on the train was merely the product of an overactive imagination.

Well, some of it. Maybe here at Hogwarts things -could- be different with him and Regulus. Sirius had never considered that before. Honestly, he hadn't wanted to consider it. Regulus was never anything to him, and he'd never seen a reason to think about it. But after seeing Peter and his sisters....

The thought was broken as Professor McGonagall called out Regulus's name, and he sat down on the stool, putting on the Sorting Hat. Like he had done for years ago for the boy that had become his brother, Sirius held his breath.

"SLYTHERIN!"

He let his breath out slowly, unable to voice the disappointment. Disappointment in the Hat, and disappointment in the triumphant, smug glance Regulus had tossed his way.

Overactive imagination indeed.

***

The waxing moon was very near full. Funny, Sirius thought, two and a half years ago he never would have given the phase of the moon any thought. Now he could tell not only from the sky but from the moods of his roommate, at least at night.

Sirius was lying on his bed on his stomach, head at the foot of his bed, leaning his chin against a scrunched up pillow as he studied, or at least made a pretense of studying. James lay on his back on the floor, his legs straight up against his bed, a Charms book balanced above him. Peter was perched on his pillows, scribbling away. And Remus was chewing on his quill, sitting on the window sill and pretending to work on a Defense Against the Dark Arts essay and not be staring at the moon.

The tension radiating of Remus was almost palatable tonight. Sirius was, for once, at a loss for words. He and James kept exchanging glances, but no magical mind meld occurred, and no brilliant inspiration hit them. They'd learned from the past moods like this that prodding and inquisition yielded nothing but snapped platitudes.

"Enough of this!"

All three of them jumped. Sirius tuned, eyes wide as he looked at Peter. James and Remus were gaping at him as well.

"Enough of what?" Remus asked.

"This!" Peter declared, throwing his arms open. "Every month it's the same thing! The week before the full moon we're all on edge like Hogwarts is going to explode!"

Remus looked frantically from James to Sirius. James looked away, but Sirius met his eyes squarely.

"I... I don't... you don't know..."

"I've worked it out," Peter continued, as if the others hadn't reacted. "You were bitten when you were four, right? You turned fourteen two weeks ago. That's about one hundred and twenty transformations you've been through."

"So?"

"I know it's hard on you. We all know that. But you survive them. So for just one month can you not act like it's the end of the world?"

Remus's eyes were cold, and James was struggling to sit out, his mouth hanging open at Peter's outburst.

"It's not that easy, Peter," Remus said. "Anticipation can be a pretty terrible thing."

"Yes, but the full moon isn't for three more nights. For one night, can you forget you're going to go through excruciating pain and turn into a bloodthirsty beast and just stop mooning?"

"Mooning?" Sirius and Remus both spoke in unison.

"Yes! Mooning! That's all you do around the full moon! Moon, mooning, moony..."

Suddenly Peter was knocked over as James launched himself across the room, pillow in hand. "Mooning!" Peter cried, although his voice was muffled. "Mooning and moony!"

Sirius's eyes met Remus's, and to his pleased surprise Remus was beginning to smile. "Moony," Sirius declared, with a smile. "Peter's really on to something."

Remus started to laugh.

It wasn't the happiest of moments, not right then. Peter had hit far too close to home. But it didn't matter that he was right, not in some big way that would turn backs and schism friendships. Just in little ways that said friends screwed up, friends got lost, and other friends would find them and whack them upside the head and bring them back to reality. And the laughter turned happy.

"Moony!" Peter was still shouting, and James was joining in.

Remus pulled himself up. "You want Moony?" he growled. "Real mooning?" He hitched his robes up and dropped his pants, turning around in a classic gesture that would make any American frat boy proud. "I'll give you Moony!"

A quiet throat-clearing stopped them all. Only one person could clear their throat like that.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir..." James gasped.

Remus pulled his pants up hastily. "We're sorry, sir, Professor McGonagall. We were just-"

"I expect young men to have fun," Dumbledore said. "I also expect their fun to lack taste. You do not disappoint me on either count."

Dumbledore was smiling, but the smile didn't go to his eyes. Professor McGonagall was standing beside him, looking worried, of all things. This could only mean trouble."

"Gentlemen, might we have a word with Mr. Pettigrew for a moment? Privately?"

They looked at each other, surprised. Surprised and worried, because if Dumbledore had guessed... But McGonagall was not glowering. As they filed out past her, she caught James by the shoulder. "Don't go far," she whispered.

They'd meant to trudge down to the common room, but they got as far as the third year's dormitory before they all sat down against the wall in silent, mutual agreement.

The minutes ticked by. Sirius kept glancing at his watch as the time morphed to a half hour, and then forty five minutes.

"Whatever it is," James said, "it can't be good."

Sirius leaned closer to James. "You don't think they've found out about..." they both looked back at Remus, who had a puzzled expression but wasn't pushing.

James shook his head. "No. It's bad, but McGonagall didn't look mad. She looked..."

"Devastated," Remus supplied. "I don't suppose it's worth asking you what the other bit was about?"

"No."

Remus sighed and slumped down.

James stretched out, guaranteeing that any unsuspecting soul would trip over his feet and wind up with a broken neck.

Sirius checked his watch for the eighth time in five minutes.

Finally there were footsteps. Professor McGonagall came out, wiping her eyes on a handkerchief. The three boys in the hall jumped to their feet, watching her anxiously. She sniffed, and then drew them over.

"Boys, I'm afraid I have some bad news," she said. They nodded. "Mr. Pettigrew- I mean, Peter's- father passed away unexpectedly this afternoon."

Sirius's mouth dropped open and the bottom fell out of his stomach. "Mr. Pettigrew's dead?" he managed.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "A heart attack," she said.

"But he was too young!" James protested. "People don't die of heart attacks that young!"

"They can, Mr. Potter. And they do." She wiped her eyes again. "Peter asked me to tell you. Dumbledore is going to take him home shortly, but I thought you might want to see each other before he leaves."

"Well, of course," Sirius said, and the other two nodded. "But... what do we SAY?"

"Say anything you can think of," Professor McGonagall said. "At a time like this, the wrong words are essential, because there are no right ones."

***

They entered their room quietly, with none of the exuberance the arrival of the Headmaster and Head of their House had interrupted. Dumbledore nodded to them as he swept out past them, and then it was just the four of them.

Peter was sitting on his bed, arms wrapped tightly around a pillow and his face buried in it. The three of them looked at him helplessly. What were they supposed to say? What could you possibly say to make this any better at all?

James approached first. "Peter?" he said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Peter didn't look up, but he didn't flinch away.

"Peter, McGonagall told us," James said softly, his eyes begging the other two to say something and come help. "We're sorry."

We're sorry. As James said it, both Sirius and Remus realized just how stupid and shallow and insufficient those two words were. The terrible spell of caution holding them broke, and they were beside Peter. James knelt behind him, hands on his shoulders. Sirius was next to him, his arms around his friend. And Remus sat in front, disentangling one of Peter's arms from the pillow and gripping his hand. And Peter broke down completely, sobbing into Sirius's shoulder as the grief shook his body.

"I never got to say goodbye," Sirius heard Peter say, in the only words that he could decipher. "I never got to say goodbye."

***

The room was quiet now. Dumbledore had come to fetch Peter, leaving James, Sirius, and Remus in the darkened room alone. None of them turned on the lights.

By mutual, silent agreement they'd retreated to their own beds, but tonight their own beds seemed a little closer. They all lay on their stomachs, feet where their heads should be, facing each other. Sirius didn't think any of them would sleep that night. They stared at each other, dry eyed and sad, none of them knowing quite what to say.

James broke the silence first. "Do you remember that time," he said haltingly, "that we went to Peter's between first and second year? And Mr. Pettigrew was experimenting, and made us eat those chocolate frogs with peppermint cream?"

"Yuck," Remus muttered.

"You and your peppermint aversion," James said dryly. "You were lucky to miss it. Do you remember, Sirius?"

"Yeah. And the one got away after Peter had bitten into it, and left that green trail all around the house. Mrs. Pettigrew was furious."

"She was," James agreed. "She hexed the thing, but she got it just a bit wrong and it exploded and peppermint was everywhere. And Mr. Pettigrew was only disappointed because we didn't like them."

"Chocolate frogs should just be chocolate," Remus agreed.

"I went there last summer," Sirius said, after a long silence. "And we were sitting around one night telling stories. Well, really it was Peter and Mr. Pettigrew- they did it the best. And Mr. Pettigrew told us this really long one about a talking rabbit that met up with a skunk... I wish I could remember it."

"Did he have the turntable out when you were there?" Remus asked.

"Yeah. He kept playing that cheesy Muggle record, too."

"The Kenny Rogers one?"

"Yeah. He made us all dance to it. I laughed, but you know what? It was actually fun. Patricia made me dance with her, and Peter was dancing with Penny-"

"Penny danced with me. Patricia wouldn't come near me."

James snorted.

"Mr. Pettigrew was dancing with Mrs. Pettigrew though. He kept singing to her."

"Off key."

"Badly. But it was..." Sirius didn't know the word.

"Nice," Remus said, lamely.

"Sweet," James finished. "I wish I'd been there for one of those nights."

"Didn't you ever go to Peter's?"

"A weekend between second and third year, yeah. But I couldn't this summer, even though he wanted me to come."

And now he'd never have the chance. It was the thought that hung over them all as they stared into the center of the room.

"You know," James said, his voice strangled. "Peter was the luckiest of us all."

"What do you mean?" Remus said sharply.

"He was the only one with a totally normal family."

Remus growled softly, but Sirius noticed the tear slowly twisting a path down James's cheek. "What do you mean?"

"My father loves me, but shove a story in his face and he'll forget my existence. Remus, your father isn't convinced you're older than five and would wrap you up in cotton and still hold your hand through Hogwarts if he could. And your father is a pureblooded maniac that isn't above using his fists to prove a point to you."

Sirius swallowed heavily, and Remus buried his face in the pillow he was clutching. James didn't say anything.

Finally Remus looked up. "Yeah, he was lucky, wasn't he?"

"He was." Sirius traced a pattern on his bedspread. "But right now... you're right James. My father is a nutter and sometimes I wonder... but to lose him like this. I don't know how Peter can stand it."

None of them knew.

***

Dumbledore allowed them to miss school to attend the funeral. They rode thestrals, an event Sirius might have enjoyed much more if he could get his mind off where they were going. He couldn't see them, of course, and the experience of that kept him distracted. But all the distraction in the world didn't help when they got where they were going.

The funeral was being held in a church, but conducted by a wizard. Sirius, James, and Remus slipped into the pew behind the Pettigrews. Peter turned around to look at them, joy and gratitude flaring briefly in his eyes as he saw them there. He smiled, a strange, watery smile, and then turned back around.

His sister Patricia sat on one side of him; Sirius could see her gripping his hand. His mother sat on the other side, her arm around Peter. Sirius had the impression that the arm was there as much for her sake as it was for Peter's. Penny sat on the other side of Mrs. Pettigrew, their arms threaded together.

Sirius was aware that the church was full, a shifting mass of black-robed wizards. There were two small girls he recognized vaguely as Hufflepuffs- probably friends of Penny's. A strong hand reached out and gripped Remus's shoulder from behind them, and Sirius was aware that the Lupins had come. He saw the messy black hair of Timothy Potter, and the mass of adult faces he didn't know. Friends from work, he supposed, and neighbors and former teachers. Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore, standing side by side, with a few other teachers from Hogwarts. And sitting in the back, the Blacks. Noble and strong and proud, sitting in rich robes to do honor to Paul Pettigrew, candy maker and father of their son's friend. He felt a rush of gratefulness to them, and he smiled.

The crowd fell silent, and the presiding wizard began to speak. Sirius kept his eyes fixed on the back of Peter's head. The droning voice went on, driving into Sirius's ears and making him cringe away as it brought the reality of death to him.

I will not cry, he told himself. Not here, not in front of everybody. I will not cry.

He watched Peter. Peter, who didn't break down today, who only freed his hand from his sister's grasp and put an arm around her, drawing her close to him. Patricia buried her face against his chest, sobbing openly. He hugged her, rocked her, tried to comfort her with soft shushing noises and gentle kisses on her forehead.

The wizard up front went on, speaking about the love Paul had for his family, the pride he had in them, and the affection he'd felt for friends and neighbors. The helping hands, the generous spirit, the sense of humor, the laughter and life. Sirius wanted to clamp his hands over his ears and scream for the man to shut up, shut up, shut up! But he sat stiffly, between Remus and James, hands twisted in his robes and mind desperately wondering how Peter could stand this, when he, Sirius, who'd really only known Mr. Pettigrew for sixteen days, could not.

Then around him people were standing, standing to join in one final song. A charmed Muggle turntable, and a familiar melody. Behind his open eyes, Sirius could see the scene unfolding, as Patricia's hands reached for him to dance and Mr. Pettigrew called to him that this was fun, not a ballroom. In front of him Peter sang with the record player, his voice off-key and cracking with puberty, but strong despite it. His sisters tried, but Penny was soft and Patricia couldn't get the words out. And Mrs. Pettigrew could only cry.

Behind him, he heard a clear, strong alto joining in, sweeping up the melody, and Mrs. Lupin tempered her voice to match Peter's.

"I'll just say love lifted me. Love lifted me.
When I was down and out, you know love lifted me."

In that scene in his mind, Mr. Pettigrew reached out a hand, pulling Mrs. Pettigrew against him. The song and the memory was powerful, and beside him someone fumbled for his hand, cold fingers closing around his and squeezing, seeking and granting support. Their voices joined the other two,

"Love lifted me. Love lifted me.
When nothing else would do, you know love lifted me."

It was a simple song, consisting mostly of the soaring refrain. One by one, other voices joined in, picking up the melody. James's voice joined in as well, a sacrifice, Sirius knew, as his friend couldn't carry a tune in a bucket and hated to reveal any inadequacy. His fingers snaked through James's, and James's voice grew stronger. Peter turned around, wild surprise and relief in his eyes.

Behind him, he heard Mr. Lupin joining his wife, and then he knew the entire gathering was singing the refrain, over and over, until there wasn't a dry eye in the place.

But when he turned around, just for a brief second, his parents were awkward and silent.

***

The ceremony was finally over. They'd gone to the cemetery and waited as the casket had been lowered into the ground. In the church when everyone was singing, Sirius had felt the love and goodwill of the gathering. Outside in the fall sunshine, he felt only the cold and desolation.

Peter stood beside the graveside, alone. Mrs. Pettigrew and the girls had already retreated, leaving Peter there with a flower in his hand and his head bowed. Sirius moved to go to him, but James caught his arm.

"Leave it," he whispered. "Just for now."

Sirius nodded. James draped one arm around his shoulders, and one around Remus's. Together, the three of them left the cemetery.

***

They went to the Pettigrew's house afterwards, with everyone else. As they walked in the few memories he had of Mr. Pettigrew hit Sirius with the force of a rampaging hippogriff, and he wondered how Peter could stand it, given the relative number of memories they had.

The mood of the throng had lightened. People were getting food and drinks, and here and there Sirius heard laughter. He even laughed himself as he saw the memorial Paul's coworkers had designed- an elaborate arrangement of flowers made out of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. The boys threaded their way through, spotting familiar faces.

Timothy Potter caught them first, and Sirius wondered about what James had said; that his father only had time for him if something more interesting hadn't come up. Right now Mr. Potter was the picture of the devoted father. But James had never lied before.

The Lupins were across the room. Sirius noticed with relief they never came in contact with his own parents, and he avoided them as well. He liked Mr. Lupin, but today the pity he often saw in the man's eyes would irritate him beyond belief. After all, as James had said, Peter was the one with the greatest loss.

He found his own parents and resisted the urge to hug them. But he smiled as he approached them, and they smiled back.

"I'm glad you came," he said simply.

His mother put an arm around his shoulders, comforting and warm. His father did too, and Sirius leaned against him, closing his eyes as he felt the solid, reassuring warmth of his chest beneath his cheek.

***

Their parents had all gone. There was no scene, no argument this time, simply time for everyone to go home. Dumbledore had taken Mrs. Pettigrew up to her room, to lie down and recover some of herself. The boys had retreated outside, to sit by the stream in the back.

"When will you come back to school, Pete?" James asked, moodily chucking a rock into the water.

"Next week, Dumbledore says. There's a lot that I need to do around here." There was a strong set to Peter's jaw as he looked up. "I'm the man of the house now."

It should have sounded ludicrous, but it didn't, perhaps because it was true.

"Will your Mum be okay?" Remus asked. "I mean, for money and everything?"

"Oh sure. She tutors, you know. Gives kids their education. She'll be fine." Peter was speaking in a high, fast tone. They all wanted to reach out, but there was nothing to say. The four of them sat in silence until Dumbledore came to collect them.

As they rode back, they could see the thestrals.

***

The week passed by oddly... quietly. Normal behavior seemed inappropriate, and none of them quite knew how to proceed. So Hogwarts found itself with a week of peace as the three of them concentrated on their studies.

Sirius wished that his studies were all he was concentrating on. He'd had the first nightmare that first night back. A dark, dank church with high flaring candles, much like the one Narcissa was married in. Droning chanting, in a mockery of the singing. And his father, laying cold in a coffin, two galleons over his eyes.

He woke up every night, eyes wide as he lay in his bed, heart pounding so loudly he could hear it in his ears. Sometimes it was his mother, and those dreams left him with tears streaking his face and his throat closed in fear.

But the owls kept coming, his mother's smooth hand detailing life back at Grimmauld Place in vague neutralities. They were alive. They were fine. And slowly the nightmares began to fade.

***

Peter had returned a changed man. He was a little quieter, a little more mature. He refused to discuss his father's death, and the other three didn't try to bring it up. After all, Sirius and Remus- and perhaps James as well- were experts at pretending everything was normal. And as the days ticked by Peter returned to himself.

The only thing that truly shocked Sirius was the day after Peter had returned. They'd sat down to lunch, and Peter had said, "Hey, pass the pumpkin juice, will you Moony?"

Remus's eyes had widened, and Sirius knew why. None of them expected Peter to make a reference to that night again. The moment hung in balance, and James opened his mouth to say something as Peter sat there with a defiant expression, and then Remus handed Peter the pitcher.

The nickname was stuck.

***

Christmas was a quiet affair at the Black House this year. James had suggested that they stay at Hogwarts or that Sirius come to the Potters, but after Peter's loss Sirius wanted to go home.

It wasn't perfect. Not at all. But when his father started ranting, or his mother was more distant than he might have liked, Sirius reminded himself that no matter what, at least they were still here. He was luckier than Peter, at least this Christmas, and he knew it. He kept carefully to his parents' rules, didn't argue with Regulus, and behaved in such a manner his father expressed pleasure as he dropped him off at Kings' Cross for the return to school.

So why didn't he feel like he'd been home?

***

"I'm not looking forward to going home for Easter," Peter said as they walked across the grounds to Care of Magical Creatures. The spring dew hadn't yet evaporated, soaking their shoes and the hems of their robes. "Christmas was just so..." he trailed off.

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Remus asked. "Mum said to tell you that if your family wants, they're welcome at Easter dinner. The Potters, too." Remus avoided Sirius's eye, and Sirius cringed.

Peter didn't notice. "Really? That would be great! I'll talk to my mother. Thanks, Moony!"

"We're going to be away for Easter," James said regretfully. "But it will be great."

Yeah. It would be great. Sirius sighed.

***

"I told your parents we're going to the Averys'," Alphard said as he and Sirius took a Muggle train.

"We're not?"

"No. I thought there was someplace else you'd rather be."

"There is. But I'm not invited."

"Your family wasn't invited. I was."

Sirius was silent the rest of the train ride.

***

The Lupin house was set in the country, a tiny, ramshackle affair that lacked the story book charm of the Pettigrews. In fact, from the outside it looked much like a Muggle home. There was a car in the driveway, and an electric light in front. Sirius could see a garden in the back, with a goal net and a football. They rang the bell.

Mr. Lupin answered the door. His greeting was courteous and proper, but Sirius had the impression that inviting Alphard and allowing Sirius to attend had not been his idea. But Remus was lurking in the shadows behind his father, and his enthusiastic greeting to both of them certainly indicated why Mr. Lupin remained silent.

Sirius had only met Remus's mother once. She was a small, plain woman with straight brown hair, glasses, and a lovely warm smile. Right now she was settled with the Pettigrews, but when Sirius and Alphard entered she stood up immediately. She hugged both of them- Sirius had been shocked. Even Mrs. Potter had never hugged him.

Easter dinner was somewhere between the Pettigrews and the Blacks. Formal, as befitted the occasion, but there was still an ease in the room. In a way, Sirius wished James could be here. It felt like a family, but with one quarter of it missing.

After dinner Mrs. Pettigrew and the girls sat with Mrs. Lupin in the front room, and the men went out back. Remus was showing Alphard through the garden. They paused in front of a small, sturdy shed, talking in low voices for a long time. Sirius sat on the steps, watching them.

"That's where Remus stays on full moons when he's home, isn't it?" he asked as Mr. Lupin sat down next to him.

Mr. Lupin didn't answer for a while, he just watched Alphard and Remus open the shed together. "It is," he finally said. "I try not to think about it."

"Why did you invite my uncle today?" Sirius asked bluntly. "I know you hate us."

"Remus," Mr. Lupin said simply. "Remus loves your uncle, and he loves you."

"You can't stand either one of us."

"I don't trust you, no."

It was like a knife through him. "I won't hurt Remus. Neither would Uncle Alphard."

"You're awfully young, Sirius. And I know your family."

"They aren't me."

"They might as well be."

Sirius sighed, leaning over and tracing patterns in the dirt. "You're about as unbending as they are."

"When it comes to Remus, yes. I am."

"I love him, you know," Sirius said truthfully. "Him and Peter and James. They're my family too. Maybe they're me more than my parents ever will be."

"Maybe. I hope so."

"Me too." It was a wrench to say it, but deep down, Sirius knew it was true. "Me too."