the_debt_of_time

The wand flew out of Draco's grip, and he turned, scowling at Harry, who stood
beside Ron. They both had wands in their hands aimed at the young blond, who held his
hands up as a sign of surrender.
"You're making a mistake, Potter. Ask your godfather."
"Sirius?" Harry eyed him, keeping his wand trained on Draco. Sirius saw the
moment Harry noticed Hermione on the floor, and he winced at the look of fear crossing
the boy's face. Harry dropped his attention from his wandless rival and rushed to his
friend's side. "Hermione!"
"It's okay, Harry. Listen to Sirius," she insisted.
"What's going on?"
Sirius clapped him on the back. "First, where's Wormtail?"
"Dead," Ron answered from behind them, his wand still aimed at Draco's face.
"Tried to kill Harry until we reminded him of the life debt he owed. When Harry let him
go, Pettigrew's silver hand turned, and he strangled himself to death."
Sirius did not know how to process the information. A man whom he had once
considered a friend, a brother, was dead. But that same man was the reason for so much
pain and evil: James and Lily's deaths, his twelve years lost to Azkaban, and Voldemort's
return in the first place. No, Sirius would not mourn Wormtail.
"That's good, actually," Draco observed. "It'll help the story I need to create."
"What's he talking about?" Harry asked.
"If you'd tell your pet weasel to point his wand elsewhere, I'd be thrilled to inform
you, Potter," Draco sniped. "This is Veritaserum. Pass it to Granger if you don't believe
me; she can spot it, I'm sure."
Ron snatched the phial from Draco's grip and tossed it to Sirius, who handed it
over to Hermione. The witch looked at it carefully, uncorking the top and sniffing it.
"There's no smell."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course not, Granger. It has no smell."
"It's a trick." Ron scowled. "It's poison."
"Someone tell the weasel why that's moronic," Draco jeered.
"Because the Veritaserum isn't for us," Sirius explained. "It's for him."