I hope our story has a happier ending

all my life I've been fighting

Sirius's expression isn't one any of them have seen often; and yet it's familiar to Hermione.

(It's the same one she wears whenever Harry's aunt and uncle are mentioned, the same one she wears when Draco flinches at sudden movement.)

(When Ginny swallows heavily at the mention of possession, when Pansy's eyes go cold, when Sirius assumes the worst and Remus believes he's unworthy of love.)

It's the face of righteous rage—of someone who's tried so hard to do all the right things in all the right ways faced with one who would harm their loved ones. It's the face of vengeance that knows neutrality is not kindness when an innocent is wronged, when to stand by would allow more harm to be done; vengeance that knows to allow it is to allow it to happen again.

(Protective, lethal rage and love in its purest form.)

His husband is likewise angry, eyes bright, but cautions him at the sight of the depths of his wrath. "Pads—"

"I want him to suffer," Sirius says simply. "The way he deserves to."

"James wouldn't want us to—"

"Bullshit. Not for his own murder, maybe. But if James knew what it had done to Evans—if he knew what Harry would go through because of it, everything the Dursleys would do...he'd be the first one in line."

"Fine. You're right. But be that as it may, however worth your ire he is, you have made it this far without stooping to that kind of low. If you're the one who tortures him, you live with that forever—and he is not worth that. He doesn't deserve to leave that kind of mark on you; he deserves nothing more than to be forgotten. Just kill him and be done with it—that way we can move forward and try to somehow start healing from what we should've healed from two decades ago."

"At least see if he knows anything useful first," Bill suggests. "People let plenty of things slip around those they don't think pose a threat."

"I have some veritaserum in my bag," Hermione adds tiredly. "Use that."

Remus tilts his head back, looking up to the ceiling as he sighs. "Do I want to know how you got ahold of that?"

"Brewed it myself," she promises sweetly.

"Yes, that's what I was worried about," he mumbles. "And how, exactly, did you get ahold of the ingredients?"

Hermione purses her lips. "You're not even going to spend a second being impressed that I managed to brew it before you yell at me?"

"Not when I know the depraved places you either stole from or polyjuiced yourself to enter."

Meanwhile, Sirius is quiet for a moment, pensive as he considers the situation at hand. "I know what I want to do," he says. "Let's wake him up."

They take him out, using an incarcerous to tie him to the chair before Remus casts a rennervate.

Peter's eyes go wide, then growing even more panicked as he begins to thrash when he realizes that he's stuck—and precisely who surrounds him.

"Hello, Peter," Remus says, arms crossed as he and his husband stand side by side, staring down the man they once considered a brother. "Wondering what we're going to do to you? Me too. I let Sirius decide, you see."

Peter gives a muffled cry against the gag in place, terror filling his face as he looks to the man in question.

"Don't worry, Pete, I gave it plenty of careful thought." Sirius winks. "Wouldn't want a marauder to have anything less than he deserves, of course. But before we get to that, we have a few questions for you—Fleur, would you mind?"