Previously in the Darklyverse: Peter and Emmeline left things on bad terms right before she died. Lily reacted badly when she found out about Sirius's prank on Severus during school. Sirius saved Peter from a suicide attempt at Grimmauld Place. The Order, especially Sirius, agonized over their relationships with Peter. Peter and Severus secured visitation rights in indefinite detention in Canada.

xx

January 18th, 1983: Peter Pettigrew

They tell him on Tuesday that he's allowed visitors now, but, at least at first, no one comes. He thinks they tell him on Tuesday, anyway: it's hard to keep track of the days in here. It's not like he's got any kind of work or social schedule to help him note the passing days, and nobody has been willing to give him any newspapers, no matter how many times Peter has asked for them.

The Burrow, homelessness, the cottage in Ottery St. Catchpole, Azkaban, Grimmauld Place, now wherever the hell Peter's being held in Canada—ever since Peter didn't betray Lily, James, and Harry, his life has been one long string of incredible boredom and imprisonment. He misses having things to live for. He misses having people to live for.

This is his punishment, he reminds himself, for what he did to the Order—to Marlene. Hell, even though he wasn't responsible for Emmeline's death, he's probably also paying for the way he treated her the last time they ever spoke. It's just that, sometimes, Peter wonders whether it's fair that he should never taste freedom again. It's been over a year since he outed himself as a spy and gave up his livelihood: that's probably not long enough, but how long is long enough? Will he reach it in his lifetime, or will vigilantes and governments keep locking him away for the rest of his life?

Then again, if he ever does get out of here, he'll never be fully free—not when he'll still have to live with his self-loathing and the consequences of his actions.

"Snape," he calls out casually, "how long do you think they'll keep us in here, anyway?"

The reply doesn't come right away, but Peter can hear him through the wall adjoining their cells: he's awake, pacing moodily around what little floor space he has. "Sna-ape," Peter repeats in a singsong voice. "What's on your mind?"

"I'm busy," Snape finally barks, but he keeps right on walking.

"Man, you can't be that busy. We're in indefinite detention. There's nothing to do."

"I'm brainstorming ways I could kill you and make it look like an accident."

"That might be tough," Peter claps back. "We've already established that they're spying on our every move—and everything we say. See, you've just given yourself away by telling me your plan."

"Great. I reckon that means I'll need to keep even busier thinking of a new one," Snape drawls.

"You don't want me dead. If I'm dead, then you have no one left to talk to."

He repeats, "Great. Maybe then I'll get a little peace and quiet around here."

"Oh, come on, Snape. You're telling me you didn't talk to anybody the whole time we were in Azkaban? You didn't get the littlest bit lonely holed up in Grimmauld Place with no one to talk to but Dung?"

But Snape doesn't answer, even though Peter can still hear his footsteps going around and around. He wishes there were bars instead of a solid wall between their cell so that he could see another person's face in here, even if that person has to be Snape—but the Canadian Ministry, like Azkaban, doesn't seem to want to take any chances and risk Peter Animagusing his way through the spaces between any bars. It's stupid, really: no matter how hard he tries (and he tries every day, for lack of much else to do), he still seems to be unable to transform into Wormtail without a wand.

God, what Peter wouldn't do to have access to a wand. He hasn't done a spell in months, unless you count his failed attempt to bind Snape in ropes when Snape came up to the attic to kill him a few weeks ago.

It's probably more than a little weird that he keeps trying to get Snape to talk to him, but can you blame Peter? He knows they hate each other, but he's honestly surprised that Snape hasn't been more willing to engage with him. It's not like either of them has anybody else for company, and anyone would go crazy with no one to talk to. He'd thought Grimmauld Place was bad, but at least at Grimmauld Place Peter had Reg to keep him company during his meals. Here in Canada, nobody bothers.

There's not much to do here in indefinite detention, but Peter's at least got one way to keep himself entertained that doesn't require anything but his body and his voice. "I'm going to start singing again if you won't talk to me," he informs Snape, and then he tries to picture the chord progression he'd play if he had his guitar with him.

That gets the desired reaction out of Snape. "Please, god, not again. You were already at it for at least two hours this morning. You're not talented, Pettigrew."

"Maybe not, but I'm getting better with all the practice. Besides, how else am I supposed to occupy myself? How do you keep yourself from getting bored?"

Snape pauses. Peter's heart leaps when he hears the footsteps from Snape's cell stop. "I write," Snape says finally. "I'm writing a novel."

"With what? They haven't given you a quill, have they?"

"I'm writing it in my head. I memorize it as I go. I'd suggest you try it, too, but that fat head of yours probably couldn't retain more than a sentence or two."

"Can I hear it?"

"No."

"Please?"

"For the love of god—"

"Okay, okay, fine. Touchy, touchy."

After a pause, Peter starts singing. "God, not again. Come on, I'll talk to you if you swear you'll give it a rest for the rest of the day," Snape grumbles, but it's too late: Peter's invested now in practicing his riffs, and not even the thought of a real, human conversation can tear him away.

xx

By Thursday, Peter's convinced himself that nobody's ever coming to visit him. When the Canadians told him that he was allowed visitors, he'd been sure that somebody had lobbied on his behalf, probably Reg (or, in his wildest dreams, Sirius)—but wouldn't Reg have come to see him by now if he had?

He can't say that he likes Snape, but he has to admit that he's coming to look forward to those moments when Peter manages to get a few words out of him. At least it's companionship. At least Snape is here, which is more than Peter can say for anybody else he thought was once on his side. And sometimes, when it's late at night and their walls come down—

"I miss Lily," Peter sighs, propping his head up a little on top of his hands. "Do you miss Lily?"

Snape doesn't answer at first, and when he does, his voice is strangled. "How can you even ask me that?"

"You remember how it sounds when Lily laughs? She's damn funny, too. I remember this one time—"

"Don't. Don't throw her in my face like that."

"Why not? You did call her a Mudblood, remember? If you really loved her, you wouldn't—"

"You blamed Vance for your going dark side and stole her wand to go back on the run, but you don't see me claiming that you didn't really love her."

Peter's first instinct is to make some cutting remark to divert attention away from Emmeline altogether, but that wouldn't be fair, not when he's lying here trying to get Snape to open up about Lily. Instead, he says softly, "I did do that. I regret that. If I'd known it would be the last time I ever saw her…"

For a second, Snape is awfully quiet through the cement wall separating them. Finally, he says, "Yeah. If I'd have known it was going to rip Lily away from me, I never would have said what I said, either."

"Emmeline is dead, but Lily is still alive. You could get her back, I bet. I mean, you're not taking her away from Sirius and Remus and Alice altogether, but if you wanted her to be a meaningful part of your life again—"

"Don't you dare," Snape hisses. "Don't act like you know her. You don't know her, not anymore, not ever since you—"

"She asked me about you," says Peter. That shuts Snape up. "Not directly, but—she showed up in the attic with all of these questions about what Sirius did to you in fifth year and why we forgave him. She wouldn't have cared if she didn't still have some sort of love for you."

Snape pauses. "Every time we've ever talked since graduation, she's made it very clear that I disgust her."

"Yeah, but she still left the confines of the Fidelius Charm to meet you, didn't she? She did it more than once. She wouldn't have bothered if she didn't still feel something."

Peter doesn't really know why he's trying to help Snape out here. Maybe it's just that he hasn't had any proper company in a very long time—that, if Snape is the best he can do, he'll take it. He definitely doesn't know why Snape reciprocates in moments like these, only to turn around and shun him in the next breath, but that's none of Peter's concern, not if it means Peter can get what he needs out of him.

"I love her," say Snape so softly that Peter can hardly hear him through the wall.

"I know. She loves you, too, even if she's never going to… even if it's over."

Snape hesitates. "You, er… I know that you and Black—"

But Snape doesn't get to finish his thought because, just then, a guard bangs on the door to Peter's cell. "Are you decent in there?" she calls.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Visitors for you."

Anticipation floods Peter's veins, and he forgets Snape in an instant. "Who's there? Are they coming in?"

"No, we'll take you to them. Don't get any ideas—the corridor is sealed tight, and Anti-Apparition spells are in place."

But, suddenly, Peter couldn't care less about the prospect of getting free. He has guests. Somebody came to see him.

When the guard walks him to the visitation room, Peter feels floored when the door opens to reveal Alice and Remus. Peter can't touch them—they're standing on the other side of what he assumes is magically reinforced glass—but he still rushes up to the glass and breaks out into a broad grin. "My friends," he whispers. "My friends."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," says Remus, but he's smiling a little bit, too. "Reg says hullo. He says he's going to try to come this weekend."

"I can't believe you're here. I didn't think… how are you? How is it out there?"

Remus and Alice trade a look that makes Peter ache to be included. "We're being watched inside here," Alice hedges. "We shouldn't, um…"

Peter is just burning with curiosity about what they could possibly be trying to conceal from the Canadians. Aren't the Canadian Ministry and the Order on the same side? But he doesn't push it—he's just grateful to have company at last. "How is everybody out there? How are Lily and Sirius?"

"They're fine," says Alice evasively.

"Oh, come on. You have to give me more than that. I've been starved for information for months."

She sighs. "Lily's good. When you were… away… she was working in a Canadian hospital, and she was able to get her old job back when we left Grimmauld Place and came here. Sirius is…"

"I don't think he's coming, Peter," Remus mumbles. "I'm sorry."

"But—he saved me."

"He doesn't want you dead," Remus agrees. "He just… look, you did a lot of shit that was really messed up. We can't just…"

"But you came," Peter argues. "You're both here."

Alice and Remus look at each other again, and Peter gets a sudden, strong flash of rage. "You know me," he begs them. "You have to know I never meant for anyone to get hurt. She tried to murder you to get to me, Remus, and I panicked—I didn't know what else to do—I can only apologize so many bloody times before I—"

"Before you stop feeling sorry?" A humorless smile is playing at Remus's lips.

"No. Before I have to accept that the people I love most in the world are always going to think I'm a monster."

The corners of Remus's mouth droop again. Alice has got her eyebrows furrowed and has pressed one of her palms right up against the glass, drinking in the sight of Peter, it seems. For a fleeting moment, he raises his own hand to where it would be touching hers if not for the glass in the way—but then she retracts her hand and ducks her head.

"Nobody thinks you're a monster, not really," Remus tells him, "but we think about Marlene every day. I think about Marlene every day."

"And you think I don't? You think it doesn't torture me to wonder how much of a hand I had in her death? But, Remus, you can't pin all the blame all on me for every single Order death that happened during my time in it."

"We're not—"

"This isn't what we came here for," Alice interjects with a sharp look at Remus.

Peter takes a deep, steadying breath. "What did you come here for, anyway?"

"To check on you," she says immediately, "and make sure they're treating you humanely. Are they?"

Peter's lips curl. "It's indefinite detention. By definition, it's not very humane."

"But they're not abusing you or—?"

"Only if you count only having Snape for company as 'abuse,' which, you know—debatable. They feed me enough and stuff, and nobody tries to touch me."

Remus cracks a ghost of a smile at this. "How's that going, anyway, living next door to Snape?"

Peter thinks about this for a second. His heart is still racing, but he knows no good will come of pressing the point—demanding sympathy—so he allows the change of topic. "Weird," he finally declares. "Most of the time, he's his usual, hateful, sarcastic self, but sometimes… I dunno. Sometimes, we have meaningful conversations. I think we're both just starved enough for human contact that we can't help but be real with each other—at least, until we remember who we are and why we can't stand each other."

"Severus Snape friends with a Marauder," says Remus. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"I wouldn't call us friends. We're more just… lonely. And bored."

"Is there anything you can do to pass the time?" Alice asks.

"Snape's writing a novel in his head and memorizing it. I like to practice singing, but I don't do it all day; he'd find a way to come into my cell and kill me if I did."

Remus frowns. "I'll ask the Canadian Ministry to provide you with something to do with yourself in there. We should have done when you were in Grimmauld Place. We could have brought up books or something."

Peter shrugs. "Grimmauld Place wasn't so bad. By the end of it, I got to talk to Reg a few times a day; that was nice. It gave me something to look forward to."

Remus opens his mouth, then closes it. From the look on his face, Peter is half wondering whether Remus will finally, finally—but then he folds his arms and bows his head and lets Alice carry the rest of the conversation.

It's way, way too soon that guards come back to collect him. "Hey," he calls to Remus and Alice's backs, and they swivel around to face him again. "Can you tell Dung to come and visit Snape sometime? He shouldn't be alone in here with only, well, me for company."

Alice's lips quirk up. "Maybe you have changed," she says—or he thinks she says, anyway. It's so quiet that, at this distance, he can barely make out the words.