the_debt_of_time

"Yeah kitten?"
"Promise me something?"
"Anything, love."
"Promise me that... that you'll always trust Remus. Always remember that he'd never hurt
anyone. And... and when he needs you the most, please take care of him for me."
"I promise."
"What have I done?" Sirius cried, knees buckling, he fell to the ground. "What have
I done?!"
"Sirius don't t-trust W-W-W—Shit!"
"Wormtail," he spat, his fists clenched tight, fingernails digging hard enough into
his palms to draw blood.
"Not the future... not the future. Maybe the past... Sirius, the Shrieking Shack. The first
time we were there. Instincts. Trust your instincts."
"My instincts are telling me I need some fresh air."
"No! Then trust my instincts!"
Her instincts were always right. She had known everything all along, and they had
always deferred to her for advice, help, or just a guiding light. Her instincts
were always right. And that first night in the Shrieking Shack her instincts had told her
to kill Wormtail.
His grief gave way to blinding rage.
Sirius growled viciously under his breath, reaching into his pocket for his last-ditch
effort. The eleventh-hour weapon he had planned on using in the vain hope that the worst
case scenario would likely be a rescue mission. If Peter had been abducted and needed
Sirius to come and save his arse, he would be able to use the Tele-Portkey to track down
the location of his friend and hopefully Apparate them both to safety.
That was not the worst case scenario anymore—this was; and it was not
a rescue mission.
It was one of pure vengeance.
He pulled out the small Sickle from his pocket, the one he had charmed into a Tele-
Portkey—its twin having been slipped inside Wormtail's robes days ago when Sirius had
last seen him.
He gripped the coin tightly in his fist and snarled out the incantation, "Portus!"