all hallow's eve

[thebloodtraitor]

Years ago, Sirius would've considered Hallowe'en one of his favourite holidays. In truth, Sirius enjoys every holiday, more than happy for any excuse available for drinking, feasting and good fun with his friends. But there has always been something special about Hallowe'en, something exciting about the inherent mischief and playful deceit.

Though Sirius has had quite enough deceit lately. Perhaps they're all better off without more, however harmless it may well be.

Scowling at his reflection in the mirror, he banishes thoughts of Remus's secretive behavior from his mind for the time being, and runs a hand through his hair. He'd thought about donning some sort of minimal costume, perhaps using a charm to disguise himself as a Death Eater purely to scare the wits out of dear Peter. But in the end he's gone with a simple, Muggle rockstar sort of look, complete with eyeliner, artfully cropped T. Rex tee, and his favorite leather jacket.

The boots, Sirius thinks, black leather with massive silver buckles, are really what pull the whole thing off.

He mounts his motorbike, whispers a quick disillusionment charm and starts off, flying high above the smoking chimneys of London and out, out, out into the countryside. Peter's hidey hole is actually quite a charming little cottage nestled into the side of a hill in Berkshire outfitted in half a dozen concealment charms to keep it safe from Muggle and Death Eaters alike. It's not exactly Sirius's style, but his friend is hardly living in squalor while he's nestled away.

Sirius lands with a crash, delighting in the bumps and dips under his wheels and the gash he leaves in Peter's front garden. It'll be easy enough to magic away of course, but something about leaving it there for now is so satisfying. He dismounts and gives the seat a light pat before heading to Peter's front door.

After standing upon the stoop for a few moments with no response, Sirius murmurs the password and lets himself in.

"Wormtail?" Sirius calls out as he steps in the front room, frowning when he notes the rather untouched state of the place. "You're not still in bed, are you? It's a holiday, you know. I've brought whiskey!"

Peter has never been the tidy sort, happy to leave his filthy clothes and dishes strewn about, but there isn't so much as a cushion out of place, and the kitchen sink is spotless.

It's after Sirius has checked Peter's bedroom and the small back garden that the unease in his belly boils over. Peter hasn't been in hiding for long, only since Sirius and James agreed to make him the Secret-Keeper. Not even Dumbledore is aware yet and there's absolutely no indication of forced entry or struggle, no sign that Voldemort or his wretched henchmen have taken Peter against his will.

If anything, it appears as though Peter simply… left.

He could've just slipped down to the grocers or is out on a walk, but though Sirius has frequently questioned Peter's intelligence over the years, even he isn't stupid enough to wander about virtually unarmed and unprotected in the middle of a bloody war.

And then he knows. He knows in that instant, as all the blood drains from his face and his body goes cold, he knows the grave mistake he has made.

Gripped with fear, Sirius jumps on his bike and kicks into gear, heart thundering as he soars above the trees, headed west. His hands are shaking, wind whipping at his face, and he nearly falls off the seat the second his tyres hit the ground.

Except--

This isn't Godric's Hollow.

Sirius has only been to Godric's Hollow a time or two before, but even so the buildings are unmistakably wrong. They're harsh and bright, cutting into the sky with jagged edges and dark, imposing windows. And there's snow. In October.

Sirius spins in place, his entire body shaking as he shouts, voice cracking with panic, "James!"

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[thebloodtraitor]

As awfully, horribly, terribly certain as he'd been, Sirius can see now that there had been some glimmer of hope beneath the fear, that some part of him had been clinging to the very chance, however small, that they could still be alive.

Breath has left his lungs as Sirius takes a shaky step back, wand held loosely in his hand as his arms drop.

"It's my fault," he says, nearly a whisper. He tries to swallow, but it catches, and the ache beneath his ribcage is severe enough he wonders if he might be dying himself. "It was my idea, my... Harry. Harry, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

Sirius doesn't plead for forgiveness. There's no forgiving this. His fingers twitch and he drops his wand to the ground lest he be tempted to break it in two and drops to his knees, cold snow seeping in through his jeans.

[who_lived]

Harry sees the defeat in Sirius' eyes and the way his arms fall to his side, wand held loosely between his fingers. He recognizes the fading echoes of desperate hope. His heart twists in his chest and his nerves tighten like taut balls of string.

But it is the way Sirius steps back, breathing as though he were in physical pain, that triggers a similar pain in Harry. His own throat burns as Sirius drops his wand and falls to his knees.

Without thinking, Harry rushes over, falling to his knees beside Sirius and pulling him into a hug.

"No, it's not," he tells him, voice muffled by Sirius' hair. "It's not your fault. It's his. He's the one who sold them out. He's the one who betrayed them. Not you."

[thebloodtraitor]

In seconds, Harry is hugging him. Harry, the child he'd held himself only weeks ago, the child he'd fed and bathed and put to bed, who is now this boy barely younger than himself with the same unruly hair as his father's, the same poor eyesight.

He's helpless to fight against it, helpless even as he knows he isn't the one deserving of comfort. His hands come up to clutch at Harry's jacket, his face pressed to Harry's shoulder.

"I'm the one who gave him the in," Sirius says, voice thick. "I should've known. I should've bloody well known it was the fucking rat!"

[who_lived]

"You couldn't have known," Harry promises him, holding Sirius close. He's both grateful and heartbroken that he gets to offer comfort to Sirius like this; he's so grateful to have his godfather alive, and it hurts, having to be the one to inform of his parents' deaths. The deaths of two of his best friends. Harry's own eyes burn with tears, and his chest and throat feel tight. Still, he doesn't lessen his hold on his godfather.

"You couldn't have known," he repeats. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's no one's fault but Voldemort's and Pettigrew's."

Sirius is barely older than Harry himself now. He hasn't even known Azkaban yet. And that breaks his heart even further.

[thebloodtraitor]

"He's a rat, James," Sirius says, shaking his head, something like a vicious, mottled excuse for a laugh bubbling past his throat. He can feel himself pushing into hysteria even as familiar arms wrap around him, attempting to hold him together. "I overlooked the fucking obvious, didn't think him nearly clever enough. But he's a bloody fucking RAT. Merlin's beard, how could I have been so stupid."

He pulls back, vibrating out of his skin.

Harry.

Harry, not James. Never James. Never James ever again.

Sirius lunges for his wand, shaking as he pushes to his feet. Every article in his being is screaming to leave, to hunt Peter down and tear him limb from limb with his bare teeth.

"Tell me I killed him, Harry," he says, seething. "Tell me I ripped his heart from his chest and fed it to snakes."

[who_lived]

"You didn't kill him," Harry tells him quietly, watching Sirius as he paces, trembling. "You didn't, and I'm glad for it. I know my father would be too. He wouldn't want you to turn into a killer."

But he also doesn't know how to tell Sirius this next part. The bleakness of his future that looms like stormclouds, ever about to burst open into violence. He doesn't know how to tell his godfather he spends the next twelve years of his life in Azkaban, an innocent man.

He exhales deeply, then explains.

"You didn't kill Peter," he says. "But Peter made the world think you did."

[thebloodtraitor]

It hits like a curse, punching the breath from him in an instant. He hadn't even gotten any sort of revenge. There'd be no bringing James and Lily back, he knows that, but for Peter to get away with it all, for him to go on living with Harry orphaned.

"How?" he says because it doesn't make any sense. Sod what James would've wanted of him, Sirius knows he'd hunt Peter to the very edges of the earth. "Was he deceiving us the entire time? Since the time we were children. Harry, Peter isn't that clever!"

[who_lived]

"He cast a spell that caused an explosion in the middle of a public street after you confronted him," Harry says, wishing he didn't have to speak the words. To tell his young and innocent godfather what the future holds for him. "He killed twelve Muggles in the process. And then he turned into his Animagus form and disappeared, making it look like you killed him. He cut off his own fingers in the process, to leave behind as evidence."

Harry has to stop and swallow, eyes shutting as he recounts to Sirius the truth that Sirius revealed to him only four years ago.

"They arrested you and took you to Azkaban," he says at last, the words little more than a whisper.

[thebloodtraitor]

The story only becomes more unbelievable. Peter chopping off his own finger? The boy who used to howl in agony for merely stubbing his foot on his own trunk? And as daft as Peter has always been, as sure as he is now of his utter, devastating betrayal, it's still difficult to imagine him killing twelve innocent people.

But he knows it's true. What reason would Harry have for telling a lie?

Did Sirius ever know any of his friends at all? Any apart from James?

"Azkaban?" It shouldn't be shocking, perhaps, not after everything else. What's one more piece? "Did they think I killed James and Lily, too? Did-- Even Dumbledore? Did even he believe it?"

There is no word for how Sirius feels, he realizes. Gutted doesn't come close. Nor devastated. After everything, after years of fighting and fear and distrust all around, it's Sirius to blame. And he finds... he finds he can't even fault them. After all, though he hadn't held the wand or uttered the curse, he is still the reason James and Lily are dead.

He deserves all that he got and more.