Cherry Wine: Professor RJ Lupin

Chapter Fourteen: Peter

Through the small slit in the door, she could only make out the stiff statue of Remus barricading whatever stood beyond. The man must have been smaller than Remus, as the only thing she could see was two tattered black boots, slowing inching forward in front of him. Emma notices the hesitation in his movement, the slowness in which he walked backward. Her heartbeat quickening as Remus pulled back from the door frame to let whoever it was in.

Black hair mangled in front of his eyes, clothing torn to shreds with dirt and silt coating each shred. It has looked as though he had not taken a shower in years, thousands of stories sit behind his face ready to be told, the face of a man who has seen years of isolation; Sirius Black. Emma stumbles back as the realization hits her, the man in front of her was none other the Sirius Black, the man who she had heard dozens of stories about, the man who Harry has been obsessing over is right in front of her.

The shift in her body to pure terror comes in an instant. Her options run through her head, run out and stun Sirius while he is off-guard or hope that Remus makes the right decision, neither ideal. Behind the door, she pushes her ear against the crack to make out whatever conversation was to be had.

"Sirius you must leave at once," Remus barely speaking above a whisper, him ushering him back out the now closed door.

"Moony please, I just need to talk to you, about Harry..." Sirius looks up at him, worry and desperation behind his eyes.

"No, I... I will not hear this, out now," Remus turns back to his desk back turned to him, his fists curling around the desk, glancing up towards the crack in his bedroom door. His heartbeat slowing slightly, knowing Emma was right behind the door, waiting for him; protecting him.

"I will not leave. If you truly wanted me gone, you would sure as hell made sure of it already," Sirius takes a few steps towards him, still turned, "He has the map Moony, I saw what was on it. The map never lies. You know what this means!"

Remus turns on his heels abruptly, scuffing along the floor which made Emma open the crack now able to see more of both Remus and Sirius.

"No, it has to be.... it is not possible," his head shaking furiously, his eyes darker than before. 

"Its him. We know his presence like we know each other. I feel him here, you do too. Its wormta-"

Remus cuts him off the instant his name hits the air, his pulse quickening, anger and resentment sit at the forefront,

"The first moon here, I knew," Remus looks down, ashamed that it took the presence of Sirius to admit this fact to himself, silence quickly fills the space the sound of the crackling fire now distant.

Emma takes in silent breaths, the conversation making less and less sense as it continues. Shifting her weight, the floor creaks under her feet, eyes screwed shut waiting for any sort of acknowledgment from beyond the door. The only sound being her unsteady breath. Emma hears the sound of footsteps slowly reaching the door, only to pull it shut, now barely being able to make out the words.

"What is there possibly to do? Regardless of what I think, or-or even what Dumbledore thinks, you are still a murderer," Remus looks at Sirius, now sitting behind his desk, "This means nothing, there's no threat in this castle except you,"

The words stung and Remus knew they would, all the anger and fear he had against Sirius these past long 12 years were a lie, every emotion, every tear, a lie, fabricated by none other than Peter.

Sirius, his best friend, confidant, sometimes love, was as innocent as ever. The days he spent physically ill over the idea of betrayal, Lily and James dead because of him. The pure hatred he had felt for him over the past 12 years has been nothing but a lie, fabricated by Peter. Bile rises in his throat, memories of his childhood, the parts he allows himself to remember of the four of them running through the halls, his best friends, one dead by the hands of the other, one wrongly accused, and Remus, alone the burden of survivals guilt.