Pettigrew

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the Potterverse, and the characters, of course, unless I end up coming up with any original ones. And I'm not making any money on this.


When Severus started his second year at Hogwarts, Narcissa Black replaced Lucius as the ranking Slytherin. She used Snape to embarrass anyone who for whatever reason earned her dislike or annoyance.

While Lucius had actively cultivated a following with various talents, Narcissa was interested only in being waited on. Lucius provided rewards; Narcissa considered the chance to serve her reward enough. Lucius had been careful to recognize Snape's status, and give him the occasional personal notice; it was little enough to do for a boy who looked to grow into a very useful man. Narcissa completely ignored him; he was scrawny, his hair was greasy, his nose was too big. His appearance offended her aesthetic sense.

Lucius kept in touch with his followers from Hogwarts through regular trips to Hogsmeade. As a second year, however, Severus was not yet allowed on Hogsmeade weekends, so he missed out on these meetings, and had to make do with the occasional owl from Malfoy.


Severus was in the library, researching various potions used for lung ailments. He felt someone's eyes on him, and looked up. It was Evan Rosier, with an apologetic look on his face. Severus sighed. Evan's sister, Bronwyn, was a friend of Narcissa's. Whenever Narcissa wanted the Slytherin enforcer, she told Bronwyn, Bronwyn told Evan, and Evan told him.

Narcissa was much easier to offend than Lucius had been, and at the beginning of the year, she had called on him to "correct" at least one person a week. Fortunately, people had learned to tiptoe around her so she didn't use him that much anymore. Unfortunately, while Lucius' jobs had been few, and well calculated, so that (most) people realized that Severus was acting as a force of (Slytherin) justice, Narcissa was so petty that it was rubbing off on his own reputation. People were starting to try to get back at him. During his first year at Hogwarts, he had been able to get so deeply into a book in the library that Lestrange had had to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention. Those days were gone - now he was always aware of who was around him.

"Sorry, Sev, do you have a minute?" asked Evan.

"Of course," answered Severus, and rose, his face carefully composed to helpful indifference.

Evan preferred to walk the corridors of the school when passing along his information. He had long ago realized that Narcissa never had jobs that required subtlety or secrecy, and he rather resented the role of messenger's messenger to an underling. Walking helped him mask his irritation. He didn't want to take it out on Snape, who after all was just doing what he was supposed to.

They got to the corridor where Rosier usually started. "It's Peter Pettigrew this time. Have you heard about his impertinence to Narcissa?" he asked hopefully. He hated having to relate gossip, which was always necessary with Narcissa's jobs.

Severus let himself sigh with disgust. It was true the Gryffindor had no idea of proper behavior around the Wizarding upper class, but since when did Slytherins bother with Gryffindor boors? "Yes, I know. Please tell me Narcissa doesn't have anything specific in mind?" Severus had an idea for a new hex, and he thought he might try it out on this job.

Rosier sighed too, with relief and in commiseration. "No, just embarrass Pettigrew, and make sure he knows what it's for." He patted Snape on the shoulder as he left, saying, "You're a good sport, old boy."

Severus forced his face into a polite smile. He hated it when Rosier did that, not liking to be touched by anyone outside of family, but he took it in the spirit in which it was given. He wouldn't mind when Rosier was the ranking Slytherin. No, he wouldn't mind that at all.


Sirius Black took to calling him Snivellus, a remarkably unoriginal nickname the Gryffindor genius came up with when a bronchitis potion Snape was trying to modify for his dad backfired and gave Severus a nasty cold instead.

Tobias Snape's Monday shortness of breath had come back. When he had been promoted to foreman at the cotton mill, it had gone away. But he was still working at the mill, and though his exposure to the dust was less as a foreman, it still continued. Tobias, Eileen, and Severus all knew what would come next - after awhile, if Tobias continued to work at the mill, it would extend over the rest of the work week. Eventually, coughing and shortness of breath would never go away. The mill workers called it brown lung. The Muggle doctors called it byssinosis. The Snapes and the Princes called it "the way things are."


It was a beautiful autumn day, but Sirius was bored. Almost everyone third year and above was gone to Hogsmeade, James had gotten permission to visit home for somebody's birthday or something, and Remus was in the Infirmary yet again. That left only Peter for company. Peter made a good audience, but he wasn't much good at coming up with ideas for fun stuff to do.

Peter was scanning the grounds and the lake, always on the lookout, as usual, for anything dangerous or of interest. It was a lovely day, and James and Remus were both gone, so he had Sirius all to himself. Why wasn't Sirius coming up with something to do?

If James were here, thought Sirius, this would be just the weather for flying. "Hey Peter, why don't you get your broom? We can race."

"Sorry, Sirius, my Comet's still in the shop," Peter lied easily. There was no way he could keep up with either James or Sirius on a broom, and he found it humiliating to be constantly losing, or trailing along way behind. His Comet was therefore always "out of commission" for one reason or another. Too bad it never occurred to either of his filthy-rich friends to donate a Nimbus, even a used one.

During one of his habitual scans, he noticed Snape walking along alone, heading in the direction of Hagrid's hut.

"Snivellus alert," Peter told Sirius, poking him in the side with his elbow.

Ever since the dour Slytherin spoil sport had hexed him for failing to show the "proper respect" for that spoiled rich seventh year over in Slytherin, he'd been looking for ways to get back at him. He'd wasted a weekend afternoon in the Infirmary while Madam Pomfrey figured out a way to keep his toenails from growing an inch a minute. And the potion that had finally worked had been vile.

Sirius narrowed his eyes and looked at Snivellus. The Gryffindor Black had come to associate Snape with all the hassle and pain he got from his family for being a "Gryffindor" Black and a suspected blood traitor. That duel had ruined his first year Christmas holidays, the summer holidays, and the way his mum kept on about it, looked to ruin every appearance he ever made at home again for the rest of his life. And up until then, while he hadn't exactly been on the best of terms with his younger brother Regulus, at least they used to be able to get along together.

Severus was on his way to the Forbidden Forest by way of Hagrid's hut. He wanted to gather some ingredients for a potion he was trying, and they weren't supposed to go into the Forest alone. The half-giant was usually quite willing to accompany any student who would show interest in the magical creatures he tended. Usually Hagrid's monologues were boring, but every once in a while he would come up with something interesting. For example, the creatures that pulled the carriages for second years and up were called thestrals, and there was a whole herd in this very Forest. That had set him off researching all the possible uses of thestral hair and such.

While he was thinking of this, Severus was also scanning his environment. Off ahead and to the right were the Gryffindor Black and Pettigrew. He'd keep an eye on them, but Potter was the idea man. He'd be past them and almost to Hagrid's hut before those dunderheads would come up with anything. Lupin wasn't with them, which usually meant he was in the library or the Infirmary. Severus had just come from the library, so it was the Infirmary then. He wondered idly why the fourth member of the Gryffindor quartet ended up there so often.

"Hey Snivellus, ... I mean Snape," yelled Sirius. He only added the "Snape" because the Slytherin had taught him that he would not respond to the nickname. He still hoped one of these times the other boy would slip up and answer to it.

Severus came even with the two Gryffindors.

"Yes, Black?" he answered coolly, drilling the other boy with his eyes.

If Sirius were the kind of person to notice such things, he would have realized that everything about the Slytherin from the curt response, to the head held high showed that he was addressing an inferior. As it was, he just knew that something about the other boy made him feel uncomfortable, as if he had been caught out doing something he shouldn't.

At that thought, he grinned. Well, let's see if he did get caught out, because he was certainly going to try to do something he shouldn't.

"I just wanted to know if I could borrow your Tinderblast for Peter here. His Comet's in the shop, and I know what a fine broom you have." Sirius could barely keep from laughing at his own joke, and his amusement was written all over his face.

Peter was appalled.

Although Peter was usually pretty good at showing only the face he wanted others to see, this took him completely by surprise. A Tinderblast? From Snape? Sirius couldn't be bothered to loan him the old Nimbus that he still had laying about since he got the racing model, but he had no problem cadging an old used Tinderblast from one of the poorest boys in the school? Peter only let his shock and anger show for a few seconds, and Sirius missed it.

Severus didn't. So the Gryffindor Black had come up with this brainstorm all on his own then. And Pettigrew was about as interested in an old Tinderblast as he was in getting his Comet "fixed". He could play this game.

Severus put on his usual "speaking to Wizarding aristocracy" manner, bowed his head slightly, and answered, "But of course, I'd be delighted to."

This took Sirius by surprise, but Snape's manner somehow seemed "right" again. Peter was outraged, and again Black was oblivious and Snape caught it right away.

"There's just a slight problem," Severus continued, in the same mien. "Just an inconvenience, really, but my Tinderblast is at home, and I'll have to take the Knight Bus to get it."

"How long will that take?" asked Sirius, who had never taken the Knight Bus in his life.

"Not long, not long," Severus reassured him. "But the real problem is, I'm afraid I haven't got the fare."

"Oh, that's no problem," said Sirius, falling for the act hook, line and sinker. "How much is it?"

"Really, I couldn't. You know I can't pay you back," murmured Severus, trying to look uncomfortable revealing how little money he had.

"Don't worry about it, old man," encouraged Sirius, forgetting he was talking to a boy he had just tried to humiliate a few minutes ago. This was the kind of interaction he was used to with boys like Snape. "You're doing a favor for a friend of mine."

Peter was aghast. He knew, along with everyone else in his year that paid attention to anything, that Snape had sold the Tinderblast right after the duel at the beginning of the last school year. He had an awful feeling he knew where this was headed.

"Well then, if you insist," and Snape named a price that he calculated to be somewhat less than the amount Black was likely to have on him at the moment. It just so happened to be about three times the actual fare he would have needed, but he had no intention of taking the Knight Bus anywhere.

"I'll be off then," said Severus, still deferential. "I need to get something from my dorm first. Meet you over at the Quidditch pitch in half an hour?"

"That'll be fine," agreed Sirius smiling, while Peter seethed.

Half an hour later, Severus met Sirius and Peter over on the Quidditch pitch with a Tinderblast that looked very much the worse for wear. Evan had Floo'ed with him over to the Rosiers, where they had grabbed the old broom of a servant girl who had just gotten a secondhand Comet to replace her Tinderblast.

When James came back Sunday afternoon and found out about it, he realized Sirius had been taken by the Slytherin. He joked around with Sirius, so his friend would know what had happened but not feel too badly, just as he had done about that ridiculous duel. So Sirius had one more reason to dislike Snape.

With Peter, James was upset. Sirius didn't know any better, but Peter did, and he should have stopped Sirius from making a fool of himself. James thought it would serve him right to be forced to ride that old sissy broom for a while.

And Peter was stuck riding the Tinderblast for several weeks. Every time he told James or Sirius there was something wrong with it, one of them would ride it and proclaim it "just fine," so he had to actually break it before he was rid of the thing.

From that day forward, Peter hated Snape.


Author's notes:

There really is a disease called byssinosis or brown lung, and it really was an issue in the cotton mills in and around Manchester, up to at least the middle of the twentieth century. It was mostly gone by the 1990's.

For more information on byssinosis in the Manchester area, you can go to this url: www dot ingentaconnect dot com/content/oup/sochis/2003/00000016/00000001/art00079

The course of the disease is as I have described it, based on internet resources:

www dot merck dot com / mmhe/sec04/ch049/ch049h dot html