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Sirius, at first, thinks it must be a joke.
If he knows anything about the Black’s, it is that they’ve always had a flair for the dramatics, and so, as he looks at the wand resting on the table, he thinks, desperately, that this must be a joke.
A sick, twisted joke.
But, no. Bellatrix looks gleeful, and Walburga preens where she is seated at the head of the table, looking at her niece who, only a few minutes ago, had brought in the wand and the announcement that she’d discovered the spy.
“A werewolf,” Walburga purrs.
Hidden by the table, Sirius’ digs his nails so hard into his legs that he’s sure it’ll leave bruises.
“A domesticated werewolf,” Bellatrix trills, like the concept is one that is entirely new and endlessly fascinating to her. Sirius supposes that it is.
“It looks to be about your age, Sirius,” Bellatrix notes musingly, and Sirius, feigning boredom, looks at her as she continues, “Perhaps one of your friends from Hogwarts?”
Sirius wants to laugh.
“Really, Bella,” He says instead, “I think I would have noticed a werewolf in the two years I spent there.”
Bellatrix pretends not to hear him, turning her attention back to Walburga, “I told you we shouldn’t have let him go to that dreadful place, with Dumbledore letting all sorts of filth run around. Durmstrang suited Sirius just fine-”
“The Dark Lord required Sirius to be at Hogwarts,” Walburga says easily, a hand raised to silence Bellatrix’s rant before it can fully begin, “Are you telling me we should have refused?”
Bellatrix visibly shrinks into her seat.
“Sirius?”
“Mother.”
“I trust you know what to do?”
With a perfected smile, Sirius reaches forward. He ignores the way his throat tightens at the familiar weight of the wand in his hand.
He stands. Meets his mother’s piercing gaze.
“Of course.”
The cells are cold, and dark, and Sirius feels the chill creep into his bones as he walks to the one at the furthest end of the hallway, and whispers the spell to unlock the door.
Remus Lupin sits on the ground, his back propped against the wall, an easy smirk on his lips that doesn’t match the fury in his eyes.
Sirius can remember the exact taste and feel of those lips against his own.
“I need to join the Order,” Remus says, his tone a high, mocking imitation of Sirius’ words, “I want to be different from my family.”
Sirius closes the door.
He doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “You’re the spy.”
The Dark Lord had known, of course, that there was a spy amongst his ranks. It had been Sirius’ job to figure out who. And he’d suspected -of course he’d suspected- but he’d never thought…
“And so are you,” Remus says.
Sirius laughs. Of course it’s Remus, and of course Remus had figured him out, and let himself be caught by Bellatrix, because Bellatrix would bring him here, right to Sirius.
Remus has always been brilliant.