This brief story was inspired when I read "The League Against Voldemort" by Blaise. In it, a scene is alluded to but not described, so I've described it here. I recommend reading Blaise's story, but if you don't, just pretend this is a post-GoF story.
The set-up: After returning to his role as a spy, Snape has a meeting (in a muggle pub) with Lucius Malfoy and then Peter Pettigrew. Blaise examines this meeting from the standpoint of how Snape feels about learning that Sirius is innocent. I wanted to explore how Snape feels about Pettigrew.
As all of Blaise's stories are connected, this story contains references to two of them, "Expecto Patronum" and "A Second Chance." You don't have to read either one before reading this story, but I HIGHLY recommend both. They are wonderful!
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Anything here that isn't hers belongs to Blaise. The part in italics in the beginning is taken from Blaise's story, "The League Against Voldemort.
Look at the rat
"Well done," said Malfoy when he had finished. "You'll find Pettigrew in the inner room. He can tell you more about our plans for you."
Snape thanked Malfoy, though the words stuck in his throat, and went to find the traitor.
Snape grasped the doorknob but paused a moment before turning it. Pettigrew. He remembered him well, always on the periphery, but always there. Potter winning a Quidditch match, and Pettigrew fawning all over him. Black disrupting class with some asinine joke, and Pettigrew laughing. Lupin conjuring that monstrous Patronus the day they visited Azkaban, and Pettigrew being dragged out of the dementors' presence by Potter. Dumbledore and Black discussing plans at a League meeting, and Pettigrew sitting quietly beside them.
The pause was brief. If Lucius Malfoy was watching, and he probably was, he would not have noticed.
Snape entered the room, a sneer of scorn on his face. The small man at the table jumped slightly, almost upsetting the half-empty beer in front of him. Any hopes Snape may have had that Malfoy was wrong, or lying, died. It was Pettigrew. He had aged, and not well, but it was Pettigrew.
"Hello, Severus," Pettigrew said with a nervous quaver in his voice. "Long time, no see." Pettigrew attempted a smile and dropped his eyes to his glass. Snape felt contempt well up inside him as he watched Pettigrew toy with the glass, afraid to hold Severus's gaze.
"You always were afraid to be near me—unless your friends were around," Snape sneered, "and now you don't have your friends anymore, do you, Pettigrew?"
Pettigrew looked up. His beady eyes were filled with fear, and they darted toward the door back to the main room and Malfoy.
Snape laughed mirthlessly. "You think Malfoy would help you if I wanted to hurt you? Think again, Pettigrew. We all serve the same master, but you have no friends amongst us."
Pettigrew's eyes continued to dart between Snape and the door as he bit his bottom lip nervously. Snape saw that Pettigrew's hands were shaking slightly just before Pettigrew pulled them back and under the table—to hide them, and undoubtedly, to grasp his wand. It was time to stop tormenting him before he pushed too far.
Snape pulled out the chair opposite the little man and sat, leaning back slightly. He preferred the height advantage of standing—it gave him the familiar feeling of intimidating a dungeon full of students. Of course, he was so much taller than Pettigrew that he retained that advantage even now. Snape rested one arm casually on the table; the other hand held his wand out of sight. Just in case.
"Relax, Pettigrew. I'm not going to hurt you. Perhaps I should thank you. The three men I hated most in the world—you killed one and made the other two suffer for so long."
Pettigrew visibly relaxed and smiled with relief. Snape hated him at that moment.
Many times Snape had betrayed Death Eaters who considered him their friend, and whom he had once counted as his friends. He had done this because it served the greater good. Voldemort and those who served him had had to be stopped, but it had still caused Snape pain every time a friend was killed or sent to Azkaban.
And here Pettigrew sat smiling at the thought of what he had done to his friends. As much as Snape had once sneered at the inseparable nature of Potter's gang, he had recognized that they had a bond that he and his friends hadn't come close to matching. If there was such a thing as love in this world, they had loved each other. This piece of filth before him had betrayed that, and for what?
Snape's hand tightened on his wand. His face showed no more emotion than the same slight sneer he had worn since entering the room.
"How did you pull it off?" Snape asked as if only mildly interested. He wondered if Pettigrew would show any remorse.
"Actually, it was Sirius's idea that I should be the Secret-keeper instead of him." There was no remorse in his voice. "He thought that he was too much the obvious choice. James probably would have chosen Remus then," Pettigrew frowned slightly at this—he was probably thinking of his status as third among James's three friends, "but, when Dumbledore began to suspect that one of us was a spy, I had started framing Remus. Nothing obvious, of course, just enough so he wasn't fully trusted anymore."
"Making people mistrust a werewolf—must not have been too difficult, " Snape commented dryly.
"Harder than you think," said Pettigrew defensively. "Sirius and James were very loyal to Remus."
Pettigrew was oblivious to the irony of his own words, but Snape was not. He rubbed his fingers along his wand; the red sparks which came out were hidden by the table.
"And framing Black for your murder?" Snape prompted.
"Well, when things went so badly for the Dark Lord at the Potters', I knew I had to go into hiding. Then Sirius found me, and the pieces just fell into place. Only he and I knew that he wasn't the Secret-keeper, so I blamed him for the whole street to hear…" Pettigrew continued the tale in his squeaky voice, his beady eyes shining with pride at his own cleverness. Not even a flicker of remorse crossed his face as he spoke of the deaths of the twelve innocent muggles.
Snape was only half listening. He had already heard enough to make him loathe this man as much as he had ever loathed anyone. He loathed him as much as he had loathed the arrogant James Potter. He loathed him as much as he loathed the werewolf. He loathed him as much as he loathed the man who had tried to kill him, Sirius Black.
He saw the beady eyes shining, and Black's words in the Shrieking Shack were ringing in his ears, "The rat—look at the rat—" Snape was looking at him now, and saw him all too clearly. Even in human form, this man was vermin.
When Pettigrew finished his tale—he had probably wanted someone to listen to it for years—they both sat in silence for a few moments. Pettigrew drained his glass of beer. Snape remembered why he had been sent into the room.
"Malfoy told me that you had a job for me to do."
"Oh, yes—the Dark Lord wishes to be kept informed of when Dumbledore or Harry Potter is away from Hogwarts."
"Potter?" Snape asked. Lord Voldemort had always been interested in Dumbledore's movements, but the boy's? It did make sense, Snape reflected. Voldemort had wanted Harry Potter dead before, and would still want him dead now.
"Yes," Pettigrew said, "you see, Harry is well protected at his home, and obviously he's well protected at school. But I informed our master that Harry spent a portion of his first summer holiday at the Weasleys' house. Should he return there, or visit Hermione, he's more vulnerable."
"Potter isn't likely to chat with me about his summer plans," said Snape contemptuously, "but I will, of course, be listening for information."
"But the Easter holiday is coming up. Just find out if Harry will be staying at Hogwarts. I guarantee that he isn't going home; his aunt and uncle hate him," said Pettigrew fervently.
"They have good taste," replied Snape.
Pettigrew laughed at this. Snape did not. The image of Pettigrew laughing at some joke told by Black ran through his mind. It made him uncomfortable on several levels.
"Anything else?" Snape asked as he stood up. He wanted to tower over the rat again.
"Just keep us informed of when the students can visit Hogsmeade."
Snape tensed at this. He remembered all too well when Hippolyte Blackwood had targeted one child in Hogsmeade, and while killing her had also killed six other children. He would not allow a similar massacre to happen again if it was in his power to prevent it.
"Surely the Dark Lord won't strike at Potter so close to Hogwarts and Dumbledore?" Snape asked.
"If he does chose to, do you want to tell him it's a bad idea?" Pettigrew laughed.
Snape swept out of the room, his black robes billowing. His mood was just as black.
Reviews and constructive criticism are most welcome. Thank you again to J.K. Rowling and to Blaise for the inspiration.