quill_lumos (quill_lumos) wrote in snape_after_dh, @ 2007-10-31 04:17:00 |
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Current location: | a second chance at life |
A Second Chance at Life
Title: A Second Chance At Life
Author: quill lumos
Type: Fiction
Length: i.e. Short story, (which has the potential to become the first part of a series - 4,403 words).
Pairings: Gen
Warnings: None
Series: Not decided yet but probably
Rating: U.S.PG-13.
Summary: (prompt) “Remorse at the time of death (as Albus said) might change the results.” As Severus lies dying he wishes that he had been able to do things differently. A certain ex-headmaster cannot help interfering, even from beyond the grave.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter, related nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. It all belongs to JK Rowling. Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Brothers and any other entity involved.
Notes: This story was going to be a one shot about Severus’ ghost. But I couldn’t finish that story. I don’t want Sev to be dead, so when I got bitten by a rapid plot bunny I wrote this instead. This story is canon compliant and could even fit with the epilogue, if Harry had left some things unsaid. It does have the potential to become a chaptered fic or a series, so watch this space.
Written for the snape_after_dh challenge.
Thanks to Claudia for betaing and being your wonderful, supportive self.
This story is dedicated to mystkyten because she is wonderful!
This story is also posted at my journal.
A Second Chance At Life
As he lay dying in the shrieking shack, his life slowly fading, the last thing Severus had expected to see was a pair of familiar green eyes gazing down at him. Much to his amazement there was no satisfaction in those eyes at his fate. Instead they showed sympathy, care, concern and worry about him, Severus Snape.
Such a beautiful vibrant green, easy to see even behind those ridiculous glasses, Lily’s eyes had been reborn in her son. Severus had never really thought of Harry as Lily’s child before, he had only ever considered the boy to be James’, all James,’ a monstrosity forced upon his Lily, his sweet, wonderful Lily. That was what Severus had always thought, until now anyway. He had kept him alive for her. But now as he lay bleeding on this filthy wooden floor, he found that his intense dislike had gone. Long before Harry Potter had even come to Hogwarts he had hated the boy, simply for having had the temerity to live when his mother had died, but he had been wrong hadn’t he? Harry Potter was Lily’s son too. He saw it at last, when it was already far too late.
“Take them…..take them!” He’d rasped as he gave the boy his memories, as he had clutched in desperation at Harry’s robes. Lily’s son had to know. Severus was dying; he had to tell the boy everything. Everything that Dumbledore had not, so he had shared his memories, all of them, all the relevant ones anyway and now Lily’s son would hate him, if he did not hate him enough already. Not that he deserved anything less than the boy’s total hatred.
But as Harry accepted the memories and placed them in what appeared to be a flask, presumably to be viewed later, those eyes did not show hatred, they showed sympathy, sadness.
His throat was closing up, filling with blood. He tried to speak. He wanted to say something else, he wanted to make things right, to apologise, because this was the end and there would be no more chances, not for him at least.
“Look….at….me.”
I’m sorry Harry. The words were almost tangible, in the air. But he could not say them. It was too late, he could speak no-longer and his limbs felt too heavy to move.
Severus must have drifted for a while, when he came to himself again, Harry had vanished and the stench of evil was back. For whatever reason the Dark Lord had returned to the shack, Severus hoped that Harry was gone, long gone, he could not be caught now, not yet. But, much to his relief, there were no shouts of discovery, no agonised screams, Harry was no longer there.
“Get that thing out of here.” Voldemort said. Severus didn’t know who the other wizard was talking to, he couldn’t see properly or move his head to get a better view. But he knew who the monstrous man was talking about. Is that what he had become? A thing to be disposed of?
He hardly felt the hands that clasped him around his arms or the swirling feeling, the squeezing sensation at his solar plexus as he was Apparated away from the place where he had been killed. Was he dead? He couldn’t speak, his limbs were frozen. It must have been the result of Nagini’s venom. Was he dying by degrees?
First his voice, then his limbs, what would be next?
He could still see a little, though he couldn’t move his eyes, or blink. He could smell too. The scents of the forest overwhelmed him. He was in the Forbidden Forest. It was dark and the smell of pine needles was strong and tangy. He could hear though, he could still hear sounds
“Fuck you Snape,” said Amycus Carrow, his curse followed swiftly by a kick to Severus’ ribs and then another. He could not move or defend himself, it was far too late for self defence. A short laugh, from Yaxley, or at least Severus thought it was Yaxley, encouraged Carrow as he took his revenge for petty slights and misdemeanours. He used his feet to extract retribution, seemingly not wanting to soil his hands on Severus’ body. Severus hardly noticed the pain, he was used to pain anyway, after all he had known it for most of his life.
Then he was alone, in the darkness, with a few more bruises and only the damp ground for company.
Severus wondered where Harry was and hoped that that he was winning the battle, the teenager was so physically weak, compared to the Dark Lord and he was so young and all on his own. Severus had wanted to be there for the final battle, to help him, but it wasn’t to be. Voldemort was so evil, Harry surely didn’t stand a chance, but Severus had to believe that there was just the tiniest possibility of success. Now that he was alone at last, Severus thought it was actually quite peaceful here in the forest. He realised as he drifted in and out of consciousness waiting for death to come, that it would be welcome, he had nothing left to live for. He had had nothing left for a very long time. But death was not about to oblige him too quickly it seemed.
I was cruel to you Harry. But Harry couldn’t hear him anymore, no one would ever hear him again
Severus had many regrets from his sad and sorry life, but it was his treatment of Harry that now haunted him most. He wished that he had had just a little longer, a moment or two, that was all. Just so that he could have apologised to the boy for the way he had treated him over the years. Harry had looked at him so kindly at that last moment, almost as if he had sympathy for his most hated teacher, something he had never expected. No-one had done that for Severus, not since Lily herself so very long ago.
I’m sorry Harry, I wish I could try again.
Severus heard a chuckle, a familiar sort of laugh, he knew it better than he knew his own, for how often did Severus laugh anyway?
“Oh my boy,” said the voice, echoing softly in the hollow in which Severus lay, “my dear boy, no one deserves a second chance more than you do, such regret at the moment of death, such remorse Severus, not all of it warranted. You have more than earned another chance my dear boy, have a good life this time around.”
“Albus?”
Severus felt his throat grow warm and start to tingle and a feather light touch stroked his cheek, a ghost of a whisper and then it was gone and he was left alone again. He was chilled now. The blood that had been so warm when it had pumped out of him was crusted now and cold. He felt small and weak and fragile.
Severus slept.
Harry had never been as tired as this in his entire life. He was weary, exhausted, bone-achingly shattered. So what the heck was he doing wandering the edges of the forbidden forest when he should have been sleeping?
He didn’t want to go back to the castle though and face everyone.
Harry felt numb. He knew that the pain and grief would kick in soon, the sorrow of losing Fred and Remus and Tonks. Oh Remus! The last time he had seen Remus they had fought. Had Remus truly forgiven him since then? He would never know now. And what on earth would happen to Teddy?
He couldn’t face everyone right now, he just didn’t feel up to coping with their pity or their grief over their losses. Voldemort was dead at last, but at what cost?
He thought he saw Hagrid ahead, was the giant searching for injured animals? It would be just like him. There had been such a lot of hexes flying around, the school had been so damaged and animals on the fringes of the forest, magical creatures could well have been caught in the crossfire.
The damage was so extensive, it would take months, maybe years to repair, but Harry didn’t want to think about that either. The grounds of Hogwarts were swarming with Aurors who were clearing up the last of the Death Eater stragglers, but nobody had bothered him, or tried to stop him and he doubted that anyone would. He had seen Alecto Carrow Petrified and several men that he did not know, but who were clearly Death Eaters, easily identified by their robes, had been magically restrained. One of them bore a striking resemblance to Vincent Crabbe, presumably that was Crabbe senior and Harry wondered whether he knew yet that his son was dead. He had seen Lucius Malfoy being held at wand point, looking pale and wan, Draco and Narcissa holding each other close, the blond boy sobbing quietly on his mother’s shoulder his clenched white fist standing out starkly against her robes.
There was devastation everywhere. He heard shouts over to his right and saw flashes of wandlight. But whatever was happening seemed to be under control now, and was a long way from where Harry was, so he turned left and walked deeper into the forest.
It was darker here. The trees were closer together and he was moving downhill. The activity was behind him now, but up ahead an owl hooted. Harry wondered if it was delivering post to someone and his heart ached as he thought of Hedwig.
Just to the left of him he saw a flash of light, a bluish glow and he froze. Could it be a unicorn? Harry had not seen one since his first year at Hogwarts and that had been a horrible experience. Seeing such a beautiful, magical creature killed so mercilessly had haunted his dreams since he was eleven years old. But at least the creature that had perpetrated that dreadful crime was finally, irrevocably dead. Harry wondered with a glimmer of hope, if unicorns had returned to the Forbidden Forest.
Harry held his breath, slowly and carefully he began to move forward, desperately hoping that he would catch a better glimpse of the animal up ahead. It felt like a sign somehow, of better things to come. The bushes that he brushed past rustled gently, the unicorn moved away but did not seem scared by the noise. He trod on a twig which snapped underfoot with a sound like a thunderclap in the quiet peace of the dark forest. Still the creature did not run away, instead it seemed to be waiting for Harry to reach it. It waited quietly, mostly obscured behind a clump of Rhododendrons whilst Harry made his way slowly through the thick clumps of bracken that seemed to mar his advancement.
Finally he pushed through the thick undergrowth to where it began to thin out into a clearing and Harry at last saw the unicorn clearly, except it was not a unicorn, it was a doe, a silver doe.
Harry’s heart nearly stopped, he gasped. “Mum?” he whispered, “Mum, is that you?”
The doe was standing amidst some moss covered rocks, she lifted her head and looked steadily at Harry. She was breathtakingly beautiful.
His breath hitched.
Then the doe turned her head and slowly began to move away.
“No!” Harry said, “Please don’t go!” But the doe was fading away, rapidly. Harry began to run. The bracken did not grow so thickly in this part of the forest so there were no obstructions but the ground was soft and cushioned by moss, scattered with pine needles, it was spongy underfoot which made it hard to run, but run Harry did.
The doe, however, continued to fade.
“No, he said again, more desperately this time, “Please Mum, stay.” But Lily, if indeed it had been Lily, had gone, faded away like morning dew. Harry fell to his knees. The air was heavy with the scent of vanilla, an unusual aroma for the woods.
“Oh Mum!” Harry whispered. Yet even though he was sad that she had gone, he also felt somehow warmed as well, comforted, reassured. Strangely perhaps, considering he had caught only a glimpse of the marvellous creature, things did not seem as dark as they had just a short while ago.
Instinctively Harry reached out and buried his fingers in the thick spongy moss that covered the rocks in front of him and began touching the ground where the doe had been.
Then something caught his eye. Behind the rocks there was what seemed to be a pile of dark clothing. Harry thought that it had moved. He watched it closely for several long seconds and all at once it moved again.
Conversely Harry stilled.
He reached down and drew out his mended wand. There had been so many Death Eaters around, just a short while ago, was this one of Voldemort’s men? Harry didn’t know if he was up to fighting a Death Eater right now, he had only beaten the Dark Lord by accident, and he was fairly certain that he would not be able to fight a full grown wizard at the moment. Perhaps he should stun his opponent before he could be attacked?
Slowly creeping closer, Harry realised that the lump under the clothes looked too small to be a fully grown wizard and suddenly Harry felt sick. This was something else that was reminiscent of first year, the shadowy figure that looked like a child. He remembered forth year as well, that hideous creature that had been lowered into the cauldron by Wormtail. He raised his wand once more. Had Voldemort somehow been resurrected again? Harry had been positive the evil wizard was completely dead but what if he had been wrong? He didn’t think that he had enough energy fight the man this time, not again, not so soon. But he was all alone out here in the Forbidden Forest and he could not let the monstrous creature get away again.
Harry crawled closer.
Then whoever it was, underneath the dark shroud, let out a pathetically weak sob.
Harry stopped in surprise. Death Eaters didn’t sob as far as he knew. Well maybe they did, but not when Harry was around. And surely Voldemort didn’t sob? Harry couldn’t imagine that at all. Deciding on a different course of action he cleared his throat and now it was the turn of the other person to still.
Then the figure turned and looked at him, black robes falling back slightly.
It was a child.
And not just any child. It was a little boy, his hair was dark and straggly, stringy hanks of the greasy strands partly obscured his face. His eyes were large and dark, glittering fearfully, despite the fact that the child had raised his chin in a challenge. The somewhat thin lips were set in a firm line in a small pinched face which was somewhat dominated by a rather large nose, and seemed somewhat incongruous among the other features.
Harry knew this child, he had seen him not very long ago in Snape’s memories. The boy in the pensieve had been one or two years older than this child, but there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that the little boy in front of him was Severus Snape.
Harry was stunned.
He couldn’t quite work out what had happened, how could this child could be here? Harry had seen the ex-Death Eater die, and he certainly hadn’t been a child at the time. So how did a five or six-year-old Severus Snape happen to be in the Forbidden Forest just hours after Harry had killed Voldemort, hours after the last battle had been fought. Hours after Harry had seen the man bleed to death on the dirty floor of the Shrieking Shack.
He didn’t know what to do or say, then the boy in front of him lifted a small, rather dirty little hand and wiped it across his face in a pathetic attempt to wipe away some of the copious tears that were streaming down his cheeks and Harry’s heart clenched with pity.
He couldn’t leave him here alone, he would find out what had happened later, but right now he had to get the child to warmth, to safety.
“Hello, Prof…Sna…erm….Severus, do you know who I am?” Harry asked gently. The child looked at him, with large dark eyes, his hand came up towards his mouth and hovered there almost as if he wanted to suck his thumb, but he didn’t, instead he looked at his hand and lowered it again quickly, almost as if such self comforting behaviour was something that he had been denied permission to do.
Slowly the boy shook his head. “How do you know my name?” the child asked, his small hand formed a fist in front of him, his chin came up in challenge. “Do you know where I am, cos I think I’m lost?”
Harry smiled at him, hoping to reassure the small boy. The child was obviously terrified, Harry could see his terror in every line of his body, in the way that small white teeth bit his lower lip in a vain but transparent attempt to make it stop trembling.
“Er, I have seen you before, er Severus,” Harry said, The child looked sceptical and when he raised a small, dark eyebrow, just like his adult self might have don and Harry almost laughed. “I haven’t seen you,” Severus said in his little boy voice, “were you watching me or somefing?”
Harry smiled more widely, “It’s a long story,” he replied, “but I have seen you, I promise.”
“People don’t always keep promises.” Severus said earnestly, “mostly don’t actually.”
Harry had to restrain another laugh. The situation was totally bizarre, somehow he was in the middle of nowhere with a tiny Severus Snape, who seemed to be as prickly and suspicious as his grown-up self.
The child in front of him was shivering quite violently now, he was dwarfed by the large black robes that were almost falling off his small shoulders, but his little fists were still clenched, his chin still firm and his gaze challenging.
“I always keep mine,” Harry told him solemnly, and when then the child tilted his head to one side and studied Harry speculatively, he continued, “cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” He extended a hand to the little boy, “You look cold to me, why don’t you let me take you somewhere warm, get you some clothes that fit you?”
It was easy to see that the child still didn’t completely trust him, his hand made the journey back to his mouth and this time his grubby little thumb was plugged right in, but he didn’t speak, he nodded instead, then he extended his other hand and clutched Harry’s fingers with his own small ones.
Part of Harry wanted to cry for the little boy who obviously had no idea about what was happening to him, who had no clue about who Harry might be, but he had obviously had enough of being alone and so he had decided to trust Harry, something that Harry was pretty sure did not come easy to the child.
Harry stood up and then helped the child to his feet, the dark robes that he wore were huge and pooled around him on the ground. The top three buttons of the robe were undone, exposing a neck that seemed completely unblemished, but the evidence of past injury was very apparent as the robes seemed scratchy and hardened with blood. Harry had seen the blood for himself, the last time that he had been with Severus Snape. Harry had thought the man dead, who could lose so much blood and live?
Harry wondered if Snape’s current situation was something to do with Dumbledore, it seemed like something that he would be involved in. Having recently met the old man in that vision or dream or whatever it was, when he had appeared to be at Kings Cross, when he had made his decision to come back and fight, Harry had no doubt that Dumbledore could somehow stopper death, did have the power to offer choices.
Maybe Snape had sought redemption? Although that seemed somewhat strange to Harry, because as far as he knew, Snape had redeemed himself already, time and time again. Perhaps this was some sort of weird reward for an awful life? The emptiness, the bleakness of the way Severus Snape had lived and died had chilled Harry. Yet the fact that he had never deviated from his self imposed task to protect Harry even when he hated him, to contribute to the destruction of Voldemort and to never waver from that intention made Harry admire him very much indeed.
Severus Snape had never been a nice man, but he had been an honourable one, and contrary to what Harry had once believed he was also very, very brave. If anyone deserved a second chance it was Severus Snape. But how like Albus Dumbledore, if indeed he was involved, to simply return the man to childhood and abandon him in the Forbidden Forest. The child was scared and alone and probably had no idea about what had happened that day. Dumbledore could not have known that Harry was going to be here, that he would need time on his own and would wander into the Forbidden Forest seeking sanctuary and escape. Anything could have happened to the child, he could have been killed and no-one would ever have known.
But then Harry thought about the silver doe that was the symbol for his mother, but was also Snape’s Patronus. Harry had been given a message, he had been led to this place. Maybe Dumbledore had known that Snape would not be alone very long.
The little boy was still looking at him, eyes narrowed, thumb in mouth, long robes draped around his feet. There was no way that the child could walk any distance like that and Harry thought that he should get him back as soon as he could. It was far from safe in the forest and it was getting colder.
Last Christmas Hermione had broken her usual practice of giving Harry a book and had instead given him a Leatherman knife, Harry loved it and carried it with him all the time. He took it out now. Severus was watching closely with his dark liquid eyes.
“I’d shrink these to fit you,” Harry told the child, “but I don’t know the charm, so I’m going to cut them down, okay? I won’t hurt you I promise.”
Severus took his thumb out of his mouth. “Are you not a proper wizard then?” he asked curiously and Harry smiled again.
“Not yet, I’m still at school, I still have a lot to learn. Come on, let’s cut those robes down and get you back to my school, get you some clean clothes.”
Harry knelt down and started to trim the long robes so that they were a more manageable size for the little boy to wear. Severus stood quietly and let him, watching carefully all the time. It was only when Harry had removed quite a lot of spare fabric that he realised that the child had bare feet. It made sense if only he’d thought about it, as the shoes that Severus had been wearing would now be far too big for him.
Harry wondered if the little boy had been wandering for sometime, clutching handfuls of robe so that he didn’t trip over and whether he had lost his shoes along the way.
Before he had even realised that he had made a decision, Harry had reached down and scooped the little boy into his arms. “I am going to carry you to the school, Severus,” he said, “you don’t have any shoes and you might hurt your feet if you walk any more.” The little boy’s eyes grew wide with astonishment.
“You think I might hurt my feet?” he said. “But I can walk, I’m a big boy.”
“I know you can, but you don’t have to, I can carry you.”
The astonishment didn’t lessen, the eyes were still wide. From Severus’ new position in Harry’s arms he could see Harry’s face clearly. Solemnly he inspected it for several seconds, as if trying to judge Harry’s sincerity. And then he nodded. “’K,” he said.
He wrapped his long thin legs around Harry’s waist and after another second or two placed his arms tightly about Harry’s neck.
He was so thin and light, a wee scrap of a thing, like nothing so much as a deer calf himself, all long bony limbs and sharp elbows and knees. As Harry began to walk the child buried his head in Harry’s neck. His face was still wet with tears, Harry felt them soaking into his neck, long damp eyelashes brushed Harry’s skin.
“You’re safe with me Severus,” Harry whispered, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, not ever again.” The little boy let out a small sob, and nuzzled closer to his new found protector and Harry wondered about who had hurt him before and why the child had not asked about of any of the adults in his life, that was if he remembered them.
“What’s your name boy?” Severus asked him, his voice muffled against Harry’s shoulder, his fists curled into Harry’s hair.
“My name is Harry.”
Severus giggled, “sounds like hairy,” he said and he giggled again.
Harry grinned at the sound. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined hearing Severus Snape giggle.
There were lots of questions that Harry wanted the answers to, how did Severus get in the forest for example? Did he have memories of what had happened? Did he know who he was? Why had he become de-aged? Was he going to stay that way? And what the heck was Harry going to do with him now? But they could wait the questions, they weren’t that important, right now he wanted to get the child somewhere safe and warm.
“Come on Severus,” he said gently, instinctively hoisting the child onto his hip to make carrying him easier, “let’s get you home.”