A/N: I know this has been written about many times, but I wrote this in a time when I was thinking a lot and I kinda like it. Actually it was supposed to be the first chapter of a story, but I just could not bring myself to finish it.

None of it belongs to me, otherwise our dear Potions Master would not be dead.

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King's Cross All Over Again

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It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.
(Albus Dumbledore - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone)

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The most extraordinary sensation was running through Snape. His mind rather than his body, for he was not exactly sure that he still possessed a body. He had neither eyes nor a mouth, nor arm or legs.
Nothing tied him to earthly live anymore. All the strings of his life had been dissected and nothing but the faint string of his consciousness - barely thicker than silk - remained. Severus had never felt this way before.
He was finally free. No more duties, obligations or fears anymore.

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And for quite a while - though it could have been minutes as well as whole eternities - he enjoyed the feeling of being nothing more than a consciousness. But soon he felt the need to open his eyes and just as the thought jumped into his mind, he found that he could see.
And Severus opened his eyes and eagerly searched the world around him: A deserted playground stretched before his black eyes. Two swings standing lonely in the middle of the vast grounds. He had the strange feeling that this place should be familiar to him and suddenly the man found that he had memories. He knew who he was; remembered everything that made him what he was - what he had been.

And Severus remembered this playground. Here was the place where Lily and her older sister Petunia had used to play when they were younger and this was also where he had seen her for the first time.
Abruptly he wanted nothing more than roam this place once more, if only for the sake of his memories. And whilst wishing this, Severus looked down and saw his legs and his arm; his feet standing on warm ground. The same clump of bushes was still standing there at the far end of the playground. And in the distant a single, huge chimney could be seen.

Severus took a few paces forward, not exactly knowing where he intended to go.

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Suddenly a very familiar voice sounded somewhere to his right.

"Severus, you wonderful boy. You brave, brave man."

Looking around rather surprised, Severus found Albus Dumbledore, the man who had died from his hands, standing just a few feet away from him, wearing midnight blue robes; his eyes twinkled in their usual fashion. The old man had both his hands - the former burned-looking one back to normal - extended to the astonished Snape and a warm smile appeared on his face.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Severus beat him to it.

"You are dead," he stated, his mind racing. "I killed you."

His fists cracked, as he clenched them.

"So this is not … real," he said slowly, making his statement sound more like a question.

"Ah, reality. A curious little thing, is it not?" Dumbledore uttered, peering at the confused professor over the rims of his half-moon spectacles.

"What is real?" he finally went on, positioning himself next to Snape and motioned for the astonished man to walk with him. "How do you define real? Have you ever had that feeling, where you're not sure you're awake or still asleep? I once dreamed about being a pink rabbit and when I woke up, I was perfectly sure my favourite food was carrots. I first realized that I was indeed still an old man, when I suddenly found myself on the floor next to my beloved four-poster, almost being strangled by my own beard.
You see, Severus, just because this is in your head, does not mean it is not real. By the way," Dumbledore added, looking around curiously, obviously enjoying himself very much. "Where exactly are we?"

"Don't you know that?" Severus asked, a ghost of his usual sneer appearing on his lips.

"My dear boy, I do not know any more than you do, for right now, I am you."

"So I am talking to myself?" The Potion Master's eyes grew wider.

But the white-bearded man merely smiled.

"As a matter of speaking, yes."

Somehow this answer seemed to rather calm Snape than confuse him further and he nodded in understanding.

"We are near Spinner's End. I used to come here when I was a child."

"I see."

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Meanwhile the men had reached a small bench whose once red varnish was slowly disintegrating.
Snape remembered this bench and was surprised at first that it was still here. But then he realized that this place was born from his memory and would therefore look just the way he recalled it.

He had sat here on many occasions when his parents had their daily fight. Whenever he had had the possibility, Severus had sneaked out to flee from the uncomfortable tension that was building up between his parents. But he had not always been fast enough. And many times he had ended up on this bench, trying to cover his bruises with the too-long sleeves of his old shirts. Severus had known violence and pain since childhood. Maybe this was one of the reasons why he had become such a strange man.

How could one blame him? If you never knew love, how could you possibly feel it?

Briefly he wondered if he could transform this place into one a little more pleasant, but his thoughts were interrupted.

"Tell me, Severus," said Dumbledore, as he said down on the bench, carefully making sure that he was not sitting on his long beard, "What do you intend to do now?"

Severus snapped a strand of black hair out of his face.

"Do I have a choice?" he asked.

Then he turned to look at the man who had been another master of his for so many years. Severus Snape could not quite pinpoint why he had fought for Dumbledore's noble cause after the one thing he had held dear had vanished from the face of the earth, when it had brought him nothing but pain.
Maybe it was after all everything Severus Snape was able to feel.

"Oh, indeed, my dear boy."

Severus couldn't help but smile. He was calling himself a dear boy.

Albus smiled with him and his blue eyes seemed to look right through the black-haired man next to him, as he went on.

"I can only guess, however, not be certain, but as you well know my guesses have been rather precise. Most of the time," he added, inclining his head slightly.

Severus nodded in acknowledgment.

"Please, have a guess then. What would my options be? And why do I even find myself in the, I have to say most unwelcome, situation of having choices?"

The old wizard lowered his glance and adjusted his robes before answering.

"I am, as a part of your being, more than sorry to hear that you do not take to the idea of being given another chance. Very few people get the opportunity to start over, as one says," Dumbledore said, concentrating his attention back to the Potion Master.

As he opened his mouth to contradict his former senior, the older man simply lifted his hand. Huffing impatiently, Severus closed his mouth again.

"But you have never been one to want what others seek. To answer your questions: Your options are as simple as they are complex. You can move on, whatever that means for you, or you can go back and either resume your old life, or start a new one. As whoever you want to be."

This time Dumbledore did not object, as Severus interrupted him.

"You sound as if you tend to the latter," he stated, looking sour.

The smile that never seemed to leave Dumbledore's wrinkled face, got even broader.

"Severus, what you must understand is that I do have no desire to make a decision for you or affect your choice in any way. I am merely saying what you are too afraid to even think. I am you," he continued swiftly, seeing Snape furrowing his brows.

"But let's get back to topic, shall we?" The silver-bearded man did not wait for an answer. "Now, to explain why you find yourself in the position of even having to choose is a rather tricky matter. And I believe it requests a rather lengthy answer."

"Go ahead, then," Snape said, "I have nowhere else to be."

And he smirked at Dumbledore. The wizard pushed his glasses a little further up his crooked nose, before he started.

"All this has started, I believe, the moment I asked you to kill me."

"You do not need to remind me of that less brilliant thought of yours!" Severus spat through gritted teeth, averting his eyes.

"Please, friend, do not despise me for it. No one is impeccable and I do feel very sorry for having caused you even more pain. Believe me, I racked my brain for a better solution. But, alas, there was none." He waved his hand in an apologetic gesture. "When you killed me on the Astronomy Tower to save Draco from such a fate, I reckon that something similar happened to what Lord Voldemort had earlier on used to his advantage: I think you unconsciously created a Horcrux."

Expectantly Dumbledore looked at his counterpart.

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"Really?" Severus asked drawn-out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His black eyes found the blue ones. "Pray tell how that was possible without me finding myself as less than a ghost? If I understood you correctly, the destruction of the body of the Horcrux's creator will inevitably leave the wizard in a state of half-life, without a corporeal form. I have to admit, right now I am not quite alive, but I do not think that I am dead either, or you would not be here!"

The rage was clearly edged into his sharp face and his eyes bore into Dumbledore's mercilessly. He seemed to radiate anger and if it had been anybody else than Albus Dumbledore sitting next to him on an old, battered bench, Severus would surely have been alone in a heartbeat. But the old man simply tugged at his beard which had got entangled in a chip of wood.

When he finally answered, his voice was calm as ever and his blue eyes twinkled just as madly.

"No, Severus, you are not dead. But you are not far from death either. Death is, you could say, just a decision away. And you will ultimately have to make that decision, but first, let me go on with my guess."

The Potions Master was trying very hard to get a grip on his emotions. He had never been a very emotional person and he surely wouldn't start this habit just now, while talking to his oh-so-much-better-and-wiser half.

After breathing in and out a few times, he felt ready for the rest of this ridiculous speech and nodded to insinuate for Dumbledore to resume his rather specious explanation.

"As I said, you created a Horcrux when you killed me. It was something I admittedly hadn't taken into account. Still, it came in rather handy, did it not?"

Severus remained silent and so Dumbledore piped up again.

"Though I do have to confess that I have not the slightest of ideas where the part of your soul that was ripped from you by the violent act of a murder took shelter. There were quite a lot of people present, if I recall that night correctly, but I very much doubt that your soul would have attached itself to any of them. With one exception, maybe," the bearded man added, creating a certain suspense by stopping.

The black-haired man impatiently beckoned him to go on. His forehead had somewhat smoothed in the meantime and though he tried to hide it, he looked very curious now.

"I am talking about Harry Potter. I- " But Dumbledore couldn't finish his sentence, for Severus cut him short.

"Not that blasted boy again, Albus," he snarled, his temper rising again. "Will I never be free of him? I have done everything I could to protect him, for her sake, but I get tired of it. I think I have done my duty. To him and to you and I have no more obligations, whatsoever!"

"Please, Severus." Dumbledore tried to placate Snape and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder for a brief moment. Then he averted his eyes and Severus saw with satisfaction that the old man's smile crumpled. "Again, you make me see all my mistakes cruelly clear. It was never a fair move of mine to use Lily Potter and the guilt you have felt ever since her death to win you over for my cause. And I do candidly avow that I have been an old and doting fool. And I despise myself, more than you can possibly despise me," said Dumbledore faintly.

Then he forced himself to meet Severus glaring gaze. The Potions Master remained silent, however, his face giving away no sign of his true feelings. After a lengthy silence Dumbledore talked again, obviously struggling for words.

"I can only beg you to forgive me. Although I know you will not do so immediately, if indeed ever. But maybe you will one day be a greater man than I could have ever hoped to be."

Silence stretched between the two men.

While Dumbledore was suddenly very interested in his surroundings, Severus was trying to arrange his thoughts.

It was actually very hard for him to be angry with the sad, old man who sat next to him. After all he had been a friend of some sort to Severus and though he would never tell him, he had always seen through him quite easily. Years as a spy just did the trick.
He had been aware of the cunning character and the ability to manipulate others his former senior possessed right from the start. The old man had never truly been mean or cold; he just had the inexpressible habit of using other human beings as pawns in his oversized game of chess.

Mentally Severus slapped himself for defending the one he had been shouting at just two minutes ago.

Finally he addressed Dumbledore. "You said something about Potter?"

The former Headmaster threw him a thankful glance, cleared his throat and answered.

"Yes. I think your soul might have chosen him as a temporary harbourage. And when you died- "

He was interrupted by Snape.

"I thought you explicitly said I was not dead?" he demanded to know.

"And I still opine that, but the means of our language are limited," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Anyways, when you died, let's just stick with this term for the meantime, Harry was at your side and you gave him your memories. Whether it was that the part of your soul came back to you as some kind of reward, or it simply recognized his true tenant, I can not be sure."

"You are telling me," Snape said slowly, "That my soul has been split without me noticing and that it mended the moment I was about to meet my end and that that saved me?"

For a short moment Severus couldn't help but look flabbergasted. Then the old mask slipped back into place.

"Indeed, my friend", Dumbledore agreed, his smile returning. "Your soul his whole and completely your own. And this is where your other question kicks in again. I am afraid you can not stay here forever. You can now either go on, or back."

The old man raised his hand and pointed at a narrow track, Severus had been ignorant of until now.

"This path is the decision that will lead you to death, whatever that means." The blue eyes twinkled.

Too much twinkling. Severus thought.

"If you should however choose to go back to the land of the living, you will simply have to close your eyes. The choice is up to you."

Absent-mindedly Snape rubbed his neck.

"If I go back, how will I know that I won't have to fight again? What if I go back and find that everything is still the same damned mess?" he murmured barely audible.

"I am afraid," Dumbledore replied, looking tired and worn out for the first time and drew a heavy breath, "I am afraid you can not know that for sure. But you do not know what will await you at the end of that path, either."

"What shall I do?" Severus looked at his interlocutor, his black eyes showing signs of uncertainty and doubt.

"Is there even a place for a man like me in either of these worlds?" he asked desperately.

Dumbledore stood up and straightened his robes, before finally answering.

"If you want my advise one last time, I think that death can wait for you a little longer. He is a patient companion. But this is your one and only shot at live. Try it. Try to live without borders and obligations. Without old men asking favours of you without giving you anything in return. It won't be easy, I guess, but what ever is? And one day we will meet here again. Then I gladly will accompany you down this track."

With these words, Dumbledore turned around and walked away on the single track.

Snape watched the blue robes disappear in the distance. Then he huffed. He had done his thinking already, though he did not know when exactly he had made up his mind. But he was a true masochist!

And a genuine smile on his lips - but not completely sure that this would turn out well for him - Severus Snape closed his eyes one more time.

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