The reception was held in the Potter's dining room—courtesy of James's expensive (and perhaps overcompensating) tastes—and decorated with wildflowers, courtesy of Lily's simpler ones. The Queen Anne's lace and thistle contrasted oddly with the shimmering chandeliers, but the effect was charming.

Right before dinner was served, Mr. Evans stood to give his toast. Since Petunia had declined to be Maid of Honor, and Mary McDonald had removed herself, Lily's father usurped the duty.

"Family," he began, grasping the microphone. His thin, weather-beaten face was pink with wine and emotion. ""Friends—old and new. I'm Walter Evans, and I am honored to address you all tonight, on the day of my youngest daughter's wedding." He gestured behind himself to Lily, who blushed and waved. "When Lily was born, we all knew she was a special girl. Neither her mother nor I would be able to comprehend just how special she turned out to be." He winked at Lily, who blew him a kiss. "Since Lily Jo was a bairn, the most important thing to us was that she got what she needed, especially when we had a tough time providing it." His voice broke. He cleared his throat and sipped from a glass of water another guest passed to him.

Peter looked past him to Lily, whose eyes were wet. She mouthed, Oh, daddy, and put a hand on her heart.

"And so," he started again, a little firmer. "I couldn't help but be a little flummoxed when Lily Jo came home with James Potter on her arm: the boy she skriked about constantly for years!" The guests chuckled—James nudged Lily and kissed her cheek. "Would James Potter be able to give our Lily Jo what she needed, after years of apparently giving her nowt but a pain in the neck?" More laughter.

Behind Walter, Sirius exaggerated a thoughtful pose, as if to ponder this eternal mystery.

"But as I got to know him, I realized he had the most important quality I wanted to see in a husband for Lily—he loves her like mad. He treats her like the prize she is. He knows he hit the jackpot with our Lily and he would never do anything to endanger that. Would he?"

He whirled suddenly and gave James a stern glare: peals of laughter followed. James raised his hands in surrender and grinned wildly, then reached out to shake Mr. Evans's hand.

"I'm joking, of course," Walter continued. "I have every confidence that James will uphold every vow he made to my flower tonight. I wish them both a long, healthy life of love, happiness, and hopefully grandchildren! Cheers!"

The guests toasted happily, and Sirius rose to accept the microphone. "Thanks for warming them up for me, Mr. E!" His posh accent was a sharp departure from Walter's working-class Yorkshire one. "What on earth can I say about James? James has been my best mate from the first time we met on the Ho—the train to school. I admit we both shared a taste for mischief," He winked broadly at one of Lily's aunts, who reddened. "I'm thankful to James for his knack for sensing when I got overeager—he's the only one who could ever pull me back."

Barely, Peter thought, but it was a warm feeling. He couldn't regret all the ways they'd pushed the envelope at Hogwarts. If they hadn't, they'd never have become Animagi, or been able to comfort Remus. He'd never have found his friends, or help create the greatest legacy Hogwarts would ever see.

"I remember this one time—" Sirius began, earning a warning Look from James. "Well, let me start by saying James here always fancied Lily. The poor devil tried everything he could to get her to look his way, even if his efforts were occasionally…unsavory?" Sirius grinned, the laughter from his audience charging him. James blushed, his smile slightly strained—he didn't like being called out in front of a crowd. Lily was laughing good-naturedly, though, and wove her arm through his to pull him close.

"One day he decided that the best possible way to get this girl's attention was to—get this—snog one of her best friends!" Sirius shrugged his shoulders and set his hands on his hips, reveling in the light of the attention. "Now, we never said James was a genius! Anyway, he starts snogging Mary MacDonald, hoping to get Lily nice and jealous, but—and I'll never forget this—Lily comes walking up the corridor," Sirius mimed someone strolling casually. "—and James grabs Mary and lays one on her." Sirius grabbed an invisible woman and pulled her close. "Lily takes one look and says—" Sirius pitched his voice upwards and laid the back of his hand to his forehead. "'Oh, thank GOD. Now maybe he'll leave me alone!'"

The ballroom exploded with glee and James's face went brick-red.

Peter glanced around the room—was Mary there? No…no, she hadn't come after all.

Sirius grinned. "And he got a slap from Mary for his trouble!" After a few seconds, he raised a hand and shushed the group. "Now, now. The moral of the story is not that a person has to humiliate himself for the sake of love—although that's not a bad lesson! The most important thing that this story tells us is," He paused for effect—a few of the girls seated near the front leaned in slightly. He met each girl's eyes with a meaningful gaze. "No matter what, there was nothing in this world that could've kept these two apart."

A chorus of awwwws met this pronouncement. Peter and Remus smiled and rolled their eyes at each other. Sirius raised his glass and the crowd followed. "To you, James Potter," he began, nodding to James. "My best friend. My brother." Sirius swallowed hard. "Best of luck on this journey. You couldn't have picked a better girl to share it with." He drained his champagne and raised the empty glass. "Cheers!"

He embraced James deeply and kissed him hard on the cheek, whispering something into his ear. He kissed Lily as well, placed the microphone on the sweetheart table, and turned to the crowd. He caught Peter's eye and smiled a little devilishly. "Now, ladies and gentleman, a few words from Peter Pettigrew!" Everyone turned to look at Peter, who was frozen in his seat.

Oh, Merlin. Sirius had already won over the crowd—did he really need Peter to follow him up to make him look even better?

Sirius sat back down next to Dorcas, who leaned her head onto his shoulder. Sirius looked expectantly at Peter, and waved a hand to the front of the ballroom. Peter rose slowly and walked to the front of the room, where James and Lily were beaming. He took up the microphone.

"Er—hello," Peter said softly, holding the black knob away from his face. He had never held a microphone in his life—it was some sort of permanent Sonorus charm, as far as he could tell.

"Speak up, Pete!" Sirius called, his arm wrapped around a grinning, teary Dorcas.

"Hello!" he tried again, louder this time. There was a yowling noise from the microphone, then silence. "I'm Peter. I've been friends with James for a long time." No kidding, you idiot. Say something inspiring! "I-I can honestly say his friendship has made some of my favorite memories." There were a few indulgent smiles in the crowd. "James has taught me a lot about being brave, and-and about not caring what other people think of you."

Peter thought he heard Lily's soft snort behind him, but he carried on. "And I only hope I can be half the man James is, to get a quarter of the woman he found in Lily, who is compassionate and caring—and she definitely knows how to handle her husband!"

There were some chuckles. He was doing it! He could do this.

"Thanks to James and Lily, for bringing us all together tonight. Let's raise our glasses—oh, I didn't seem to bring mine. Oh, thank you—" He lifted the hastily-passed glass. "Let's raise our glasses to James and Lily Potter, two wonderful people who are bound to make the world a better place with their love. To your health!"

Peter downed his own glass and set the microphone down. Lily reached out to squeeze his hand, and James gathered him into a tight hug. "I love you, mate."

Peter nearly lost it right then and there, but managed to hold it in long enough to detach himself from the groom and shuffle off in the direction of the bathrooms.

Married, Peter sighed, staring into the mirror over the marble sink. When did we start growing up? He felt as if a part of himself was breaking off to make room for a new part to take shape. He splashed water on his face and dabbed himself with a towel. He scrutinized the round face in the mirror. What am I so worried about? We'll still be close. We'll always be Us.

Hours later, after plates had been cleared away and the raucous celebration of midnight and the New Year had come and gone, Peter lingered in the doorway of the ballroom. Sirius and James were waltzing wildly for a laughing crowd. Dorcas had commandeered a camera and was photographing the scene. Lily was pink with laughter and wine. Even Remus was dancing with one of the young, white-gloved waitresses that had passed out the canapés before the toasts.

Peter smiled so widely his cheeks hurt and his eyes filled with tears. Joy swelled in his chest. It didn't have to change. They all loved each other as deeply as anyone. This was family.

Peter turned slowly away from the ballroom and slipped out into the night. The excitement of the day had exhausted him; he was not ready for the second wind the party was surely gaining. They wouldn't even notice he was gone until the morning.

The cold air was rejuvenating, but the still night—punctuated by laughter and the sounds of noisemakers—was oddly peaceful. He inhaled deeply and smiled, thinking of the New Year's kiss a sweet, small blonde—Lily's cousin, perhaps?—had laid on him unexpectedly. Why hadn't he taken her number?

"You did it again, Peter," he murmured, shaking his head.

In the street ahead, a lone figure was stumbling inelegantly along the gutter, a bottle swaying in his right hand. A fellow wedding guest? Not everyone can keep up with James and Sirius, Peter thought.

As he passed the figure, a low, morose voice slurred, "Pettigrew? Is that you?"

It was Severus Snape, but it sounded almost nothing like him. Despite the drink, his voice was smooth and posh and slightly nasal. He sounded like so many of the Slytherins he had befriended during school.

Snape, like Lily, had been raised in Cokeworth—his accent had been a great source of laughter for James and Sirius, who had both been raised in the upper-class areas of Greater London. Snape's and Lily's Yorkshire accents had smoothed out over their years at Hogwarts, but there was only the barest hint of it in Snape's voice now.

"Of course it is," Snape answered himself. "Lily's little wedding was tonight, wasn't it?" His hand went to his pocket and draw out a pack of cigarettes; he lit one.

"…Yes," Peter allowed, feeling uncomfortably like he was betraying sensitive information to The Wrong Side, although he suspected that Snape had known all about the wedding from the papers. His feelings for Lily had been a poorly-kept secret, especially once James had decided that Snape was his competition. To Peter's surprise, Snape held the pack of cigarettes out to him. He waved it away. "Is that why you're here?"

Snape's mouth twisted as he blew smoke. Peter studied the sallow face, wondering if this conversation was worth the effort. Now that they were face-to-face, it dawned on Peter that he really didn't know anything much about Snape's personal life. James would have thumped Peter if he seemed to give a Fizzing Whizbee about "the Enemy", and Lily steadfastly refused to talk about Snape or their former friendship. As far as Peter knew, nobody had seen or heard from Snape after graduation. In fact, it had been years since Peter had last spoken to him personally.

"They kick you out of the party, Peter?" Snape smirked unpleasantly, recovering his haughty facade. "Finally decide that they were better off as a trio?"" He wobbled slightly and stepped out of the gutter and onto the pavement. His hair looked surprisingly clean in the light of the streetlamp. Had he expected to see Lily? "Didn't they always look at you as a sort of hanger-on? An odd little groupie?" The word sounded odd on Snape's newly-posh tongue.

Peter ignored the jab. Certainly he had hero-worshipped James and Sirius in his younger days: they had been popular and brave and confident—all the things Peter wasn't—and yet they'd included him, even if he'd been mildly annoying then. The same definitely could not be said for Snape.

"Oh, but I forgot!" Snape gave an uncharacteristic and frightening giddy laugh, his cigarette hand cupping his mouth. Peter stepped back automatically, his hand hovering over the pocket of his dress robes. "I forgot how they're all paragons of loyalty and friendship—not to mention the deep, everlasting love of James and his blushing bride. My mistake." He spat the words, a rigid smile fixed on his sallow face. "Tell me—does Lily take kindly to her husband's jaunts with Black? I know they bullied some muggle bobbies a little while ago. On that motorbike, ostentatious and ridiculous as they are."

How did he know about that? Peter wondered. James had been adamant that Lily be kept in the dark about that little joyride.

As if reading his mind, Snape said, "How do you think Lily would take to that sort of petty trick against her kind? Performed at the hands of her beloved husband, too. Tsk, tsk." He took a large swig from his bottle and flicked his cigarette end into the gutter. "You see Peter," he waved a hand airily and stumbled again. "Your little friends don't have any more respect for those of lesser blood than I do—not even for the muggle police. They just hide it better, with a healthy veneer of self-righteousness and arrogance."

Peter's curiosity got the better of him. "Where did you hear about that? About the police?"

Snape chuckled throatily. "I have many contacts—even in the muggle world." He glanced at Peter, sizing him up like a cobra sizing up a meal. "Shouldn't you be at the party? Celebrating?" He spat the last word.

"I'm knackered," Peter admitted, shrugging one shoulder. "I can't keep up the way I used to, I guess." He forced a weak laugh, feeling a little foolish for trying to keep things light. With Snape, of all people.

Snape seemed to consider for a moment, his black eyes boring deep into Peter's.

"Pettigrew," he said eventually. "There are some societies that would be much more attentive to a person with your needs." His voice had lost its haughty edge—he sounded almost…friendly. "And your unique skills, of course." He scratched his left arm reflexively, the bottle in his right hand clutched precariously between his first two fingers.

Peter's throat tightened. He knows I'm an Animagus. And he's a—he's one of them. "I-I don't—"

"No," Snape interrupted, suddenly sharp. "I expect you don't." Snape turned to leave. "People don't change, Peter," he tossed over his shoulder. His voice was harsh, but there was a note of regret that Peter had not expected. "When you realize this, come find me."


The story about the muggle police that Snape is referring to is the prequel short story JK Rowling wrote for an auction back in 2008; it can be read in its entirety online with a quick google!

Thanks for reading!