Author's note:
Thank you Amar and guests for your kind reviews. This is not supposed to be a one shot. I expect about three chapters (at least – depending on how fast things move along). I think Severus needs to face his feelings about Lily, why he couldn't let go and move on. He needs to forgive himself. He won't like that. And then he needs to deal with his Potter/Black memories and he'll need to forgive them, too. He'll like that even less.
Personally I would like to see him happily married with enough children to found his own Quidditch team – but I don't think he's quite the type for that.
I'm not sure how far this character can be pushed and still be recognizable.
I fell in love with Snape early in book two ("or maybe he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train") and I don't want to force him into something he is not.
I do want him to find love. Although I fear that that will have to happen while he's looking the other way. And I would like to conclude with Mr. and Mrs. Snape taking at least one child to platform 9 ¾.
That's the plan.
I'll just have to make Severus come along. Ugh.
Technically I would have been satisfied with Professor Snape teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts permanently. The Order of Merlin (1st grade) wouldn't have hurt anyone. Or having a street in Hogsmeade getting named after him – as a last resort a statue on Hogwarts Grounds would have sufficed. But we didn't get any of that, did we? It's been seven years and thinking of Snapes death scene still makes me angry. Obviously I'm not past the four stages of mourning and I refuse to accept it. Severus Snape is not dead. He can't be.
Hence this fanfiction. Wish me luck.
Memories consume - Like opening the wound Clutching my cure I tightly lock the door
I'm picking me apart again
You all assume, I'm safe here in my room
Unless I try to start again
I try to catch my breath again
I hurt much more Than anytime before
I had no options left again
I don't want to be the one The battles always choose
'Cause inside I realize That I'm the one confused
I don't know what's worth fighting for Or why I have to scream. I'll paint it on the walls
I don't know why I instigate And say what I don't mean.
I don't know how I got this way I'll never be alright
So I'm breaking the habit, I'm breaking the habit
Tonight
'Cause I'm the one at faults
I'll never fight again
And this is how it ends
Linkin Park –Breaking A Habit
Severus Snape filled the last drop of potion into the flask and put it into the box, where eleven similar flasks were already held in place.
He closed the box carefully and put it into the larger box, which carried more potions as well as little bags with dried herbs and fungi.
He pulled his cloak around his shoulders and cast a lifting charm on the box. Then he directed it carefully out of his tiny room and down the stairs.
He was currently staying at a small inn in New Zealand. After exploring the tropical rainforest in South America and collecting interesting plants and magical animals, he had never heard of before, he had travelled on to Australia.
Here he had studied the most complex spell work of the Aborigines. They had a unique way of putting their spells into effect and it had taken him nearly two years to understand the magical theory behind the simpler ones. At that point the heat had unnerved him so much, he had decided to leave it at that and move on.
New Zealand had seemed as good as any other place. He had found a small wizard dwelling and rented aforementioned tiny room in an inn.
For the next few months he had sifted through all the notes he had taken and all the probes of herbs and other flora and fauna and had tried to classify it. Once he had started he had realized how big a task he had set himself.
While he had been travelling he had never considered what he would be doing with all the data. Now he found it was enough to write several books on.
He had quickly come up with a reasonable schedule for the task and started writing. He knew it would take him years. He had decided to start with his most recent discoveries on Aboriginal Magical Theory. He was nearly done. He would not spend much time on finding a publisher, but go on working on a compendium of magical animals and plants of the tropical forest. He expected to finish that rather quickly, as it was much less complicated a topic to put into writing. His third idea he had saved for last, because he knew it would take up a lot of time, as he was not finished with experimenting on new potions and the diverse uses of the plants and herbs he had discovered. Yet he knew it was going to be the part of his work he would be enjoying most.
The room he had rented was stacked with parchments full of notes, crates filled with samples and everything he needed for his work. It didn't cost much – but to be able to pay the rent he had started to gather herbs and concoct potions for the local apothecary.
He approached the shop. A warm breeze ruffled his robes and even upset his hair a bit. He had almost gotten used to that. The shop sign was dangling slightly "Praxedis Hollerbug – apothecary" it said and Snape smiled slightly without realizing it, as the magical door chime went, and he entered.
Later that afternoon he sat at his crammed desk and looked down on the parchment he had been writing on.
For some reason he hadn't made much progress ever since he had returned from the apothecary. Instead of focusing on the final conclusions on aboriginal spell work he found his thoughts returning to an equally warm and rainy day in May two years ago. He sighed and looked outside the window. Some of the trees had started to turn their leaves yellow and red. Even after two years he had not gotten used to considering May a month of the autumn season.
With an almost grim expression he opened the lowest drawer of his desk and took out the black writing book he had come to dread and appreciate alike.
He opened it on the bookmarked page and started writing.
May, 28 – 2003
It was about this time of year when I came to the village two years ago and I remember clearly it was the end of May, when I went into the apothecary for the first time.
I needed both money and potion supplies – an ill combination.
I had concocted a few potions and collected an assortment of useful herbs I intended to offer the shop owner.
A small bell jingled when I opened the door – I was the only customer. There was no one behind the counter, but a voice from behind a purple curtain called out to wait just a moment.
So I did. Then Madame Hollerbug stepped through the curtain and up to the counter. She was a short, slightly stout woman with greying hair. I guessed her to be about my own age. She was wearing dark green robes with a purple belt and matching necklace. The most extraordinary thing about her – more accurately the only extraordinary thing about her - was the blindfold, she was wearing over her eyes. Or her empty eye sockets, more likely. Even though she was obviously blind she held her face in my general direction, smiled and asked me, what she could do for me.
"Good afternoon", I said and put down the small crate on the counter. I was about to explain, when she said: "Ah – it is you, Mr. Evans. Our new celebrity! I was wondering, when you'd come in. Sooner or later, everyone does… As it is the only apothecary around."
I'm afraid I kept staring into her unseeing face for quite a while, before I asked her, how she knew.
"That is quite simple, actually – I recognize a British accent, when I hear one. West Midlands or North East, I'd say."
"North East it is, indeed."
"I was almost sure it was, I used to have a friend from Lancashire. So – are you buying or selling?"
She gestured roughly into the direction where I had put down my crate.
"What did you mean by me being your new celebrity?" I asked instead of answering her question.
"Oh – the whole village is buzzing with the tales of your travels. Some say, you can do Aboriginal spell work? Is that true?"
"A few simple ones, nothing more, I'm afraid."
"Well, that's more than most people can say of themselves, isn't it? So, a foreigner in our tiny settlement, a talented wizard - obviously – and a scholar. I'm surprised your ears haven't been burning… If you hear some people talk, it sounds almost like you're the next Dumbledore!"
I stared at her, this time really lost for words. A rare occasion.
"Mr. Evans?"
"I see." I managed. "And I thought I was just somebody who enjoyed travelling and taking notes."
"Don't pay attention to it. They'll calm down in time."
I took her word for it and started to explain how my rather lengthy shopping list was well outside my financial capacities and told her, what I had to offer.
"May I have a look at those potions?"
I wondered briefly how she was going to check for the correct colouring and density, but was not surprised, she managed by wafting the odor toward her nose carefully.
She checked on the herbs in equal fashion and equal silence which almost made me feel like a student in front of a teacher. After seventeen years on the other side of the desk that was a really peculiar sensation.
"Well," she concluded, "those are perfectly correct concocted solutions and very carefully collected and dried herbs. I don't really need anyone to brew my potions, nor to collect my herbs," – (I wondered briefly how she managed that) - "but as I see you are in a tight spot, I'll do you a favour. What house were you in, by the way?"
I was a bit taken aback by her sudden change of subject, but answered still.
"Slytherin. I was in Slytherin."
"Ah – I was in Hufflepuff. When did you leave? Maybe we have met."
"I left 1978."
"Ah well – that was my third year. I suppose you never paid much attention to Hufflepuff third years, did you?" She grinned a little sheepishly, when I said "not really."
I read her my list and we came to a quick agreement, we have both been happy to keep up over the past two years.
She told me later on that she lost both eyes, when her husband's cauldron exploded. Apparently they were experimenting and she survived only because she had just been about to leave the cellar and turned back at the door when her husband started yelling at her to get out.
The explosion had wrecked the house and made her a very young widow.
Snape put down the quill and tapped the pages with his wand, hiding the entry behind blank parchment.
He had started to call himself Perseus Evans – an anagram to his true name – when he had left the tropical forest and lived among people again.
He had not thought about it in advance, but decided for it spontaneously, when he had been asked.
Something had held him back from using his name. And the more he thought about it, the more contented he was with this new one. He was – after all – leading this new life because Lily had asked him to. So he carried her surname in her honor.
Hardly a day passed without a thought of Lily. He felt as if she was watching him from across the room, when he bent over his parchment, trying to find the right words. It was her voice that pointed out mistakes and misspellings. He concluded his work usually with the feeling of having made Lily proud.
It really felt as if she was still there.
But not like the image of his guilt and ignorance. Nor the source of bitter regret and pain, no – not anymore.
She was his strength, now.
Still, there was no one like her. He knew for sure he would never meet another woman like Lily. How could anyone compare? Lily had not only been beautiful. That alone wouldn't have caught his interest at all – or at least: not for long. She had also been an extraordinarily talented witch, had had a sharp mind and most of all: a kind and friendly nature, which had always soothed his yearning soul.
Severus thought back to the happy years of friendship he had shared with Lily.
They had shared their knowledge of magic and practiced together. She had been his equal. A soul mate. Almost. Had it not been for his passion for the Dark Arts.
He closed the writing book and bent down to put it away, then hesitated.
Despite the fact that it was the end of May, the colouring trees and cooler temperatures had sparked a feeling Severus associated with autumn. It had been easier than ever to ignore Halloween the previous year, with plants bursting into bloom and newborn lambs on the meadows.
Now it came back to him.
He reopened the book and looked onto the first page. It was as blank as it should be. Yet Severus knew, what was written there.
He took up his wand reluctantly and considered. He had never reread anything he had poured into that book. Maybe this was time for it now? He had nothing new to write. He tapped the page with his wand and murmured the incantation.
It sprang to life. Like growing plants his handwriting reappeared until it was all back in front of him.
October, 31 – 1998
It has been seventeen years now.
Seventeen years since Lily's death. Six Months since my feelings about it have changed – even so little.
I am certain that she has forgiven me – or would have done so anyway. But I find that it is of little consequence.
I still miss her as painfully as ever.
She was the only one, who ever really understood. The only one, I could confide in – the only one, I could trust.
I know that I am the one who betrayed our friendship in the first place.
Like I am the one who is responsible for her death.
She may have forgiven me, she always had a forgiving heart. But I myself cannot. My own stupidity and ignorance took away the only thing I ever held dear. Lily paid the price – how dare I be happy?
As she has forgiven me and expects me to do my best at being happy - or at least content – and to make something of my life from now on, I realize, I have to forgive myself, too. But how can I?
Is what I did enough? It may be enough for her, but is it for me? Do I really deserve happiness? Already? Ever?
How can I put such grave mistakes behind and move on?
I have to do it. Lily would want me to. But how?
I cannot see a way to redemption. Cannot find an explanation or excuse for my deeds. I was selfish and stubborn. There is no way around that.
I am guilty. What I did cannot be undone. I know that this is where forgiveness is the only way out. But how am I to walk it, when I cannot see it? Cannot find a direction to start? I remain caught up in my own accusations, acting as my own prosecutor. How can I stop myself?
And what's much more: do I really want to stop myself?
For seventeen years I have made my home in my own punishments. It is, what I deserve.
I do not deserve to live on when she is dead. Especially not happily.
I know she would disagree.
It still does nothing to change my point of view.
Severus put down the book on the desk and looked out of the window. It was getting dark. Was there really nothing to add to this entry? Had nothing changed over the past five years?
He felt it had.
He still felt guilty and he still felt the responsibility for her death weigh heavy on his shoulders.
But he knew he had made a few steps into an uncertain direction. Not so much toward anything like forgiveness – but still away from his own merciless judgment.
Maybe he should try and speak up in his own defence? Or maybe he could cast Lily as his advocate?
He raised his wand and tipped the page blank. He turned the pages to where he had put his bookmark and bent over the desk, dipping his quill into the inkpot and starting to write the final speech of defence in the case of Snape versus Snape.
He waited a moment, until he heard Lilys voice in his head clearly.
May, 28 – 2003
There is hardly any doubt, that the accused is guilty of all charges. But before final judgment is passed, it is necessary to take a look at the evidence that speaks in his favour.
We will therefore consider every decision the accused has made and take into account the circumstances which let him to choose the path he did.
We must also take into account that the accused tried to make amends even before the pending act of violence happened.
He turned his back on his former allegiance and entrusted vital information to the man he had formerly considered to be his enemy, because he knew, he was the only one who could prevent the murder, that was already planned.
It can be taken as a fact, that the accused would never have relayed any information which was likely to endanger his childhood friend deliberately.
Therefore the accused must be cleared from this particular charge. He did not relay information deliberately and he never would have done so, had he foreseen following events and decisions.
He did relay the crucial information because he was a Death Eater and was serving the dark lord. Obviously it was a bad decision to join Voldemorts services and we must consider what let the accused to do so – instead of taking his friends advice to disassociate himself from the group of people who were pursing the same ends as he did.
Why did the accused – at age sixteen - chose a group of friends from his own house above the trusted friend from his childhood days?
The answer is rather simple. The accused could not decide otherwise, because he was not in the condition to deal with his former-friends bullying – as it most certainly had ensued had he told them he was not their associate anymore because of his friendship with a person they despised for her heritage – in addition to the one he was already suffering on the hands of his Gryffindor classmates.
To break away from his group of friends would have isolated him in his own house, leaving him completely friendless – except for one. Who was – at that point – not as close anymore as a few years before.
Was there a reason to choose that lonely path at that point?
Yes, there was. It was possible to understand the flaws in his associate's views. The reason to listen to his friend's warnings would have been to choose the right way above the easy one.
The accused did not do that.
It is my belief that he could not make that decision, due to his personal background.
It takes a mature and stable personality to make such a morally correct, yet difficult decision.
At age sixteen the accused was neither mature, nor stable enough to understand what sort of decision he was about to make.
It would have been the duty of his caretakers to provide him with guidance and orientation – not his peer.
Did his parents do or say anything to direct him back onto the right track?
Did his teachers assist him in this troubled time?
The answer is: no.
The accused must therefore be cleared of this charge, too. He could not decide against his group of friends at this point. Not without assistance from a loving – or at least dutiful – adult caretaker. The accused cannot be held responsible for his caretakers misconduct.
Severus sat back and almost threw the quill onto the desk. Had he really just cleared himself of all charges? Lily's voice was ringing inside his head. It was clear to him that she would have taken this stance. And not without reason, as he had to admit.
He got up and started to pace the room. Writing had not calmed him down, this time – but made him angry.
Angry with his parents, who had been so caught up in their fighting, that they had hardly ever found the time to consider him much.
Angry most of all with his father, who had never been able to accept his son the way he was. Who had despised his magical abilities, had felt betrayed by a small child who could not see why being magical had put him firmly on his mother's side. Why had there to be sides at all? Why did he have to grow up in a warzone?
He was angry with his mother who had chosen to endure his father's raging, instead of making a living with her son alone. Having been a witch, that clearly would have been possible. What did she had to lose?
He was angry with Dumbledore, who had allowed him to be separated from his only friend, the only positive influence in his life at that point – and then failed to provide him with a new one. Who had never done anything to stop Potter and Black.
He stopped dead in his tracks as he realized, that he had actually stopped blaming himself.
Yes. He had made bad decisions. Many of them. But those had been lonely decisions. Made without advice or guidance. Lily alone had truly cared about him at that point – and her advice alone had had no chance against all the unfortunate circumstances he had grown up with.
He didn't feel cleared of all charges. But he was not the lone culprit anymore. It was relieving to direct his anger toward someone else than himself for a change.
His gaze fell on to the black writing book, which was still lying open on his desk, the page crammed with his minute handwriting.
A slight smile twitched in the corner of his mouth, as he bent over it and wrote, while standing, a last line under today's entry.
Let off with probation
He tapped the page blank and bent even lower, locking the book firmly back in its bottom drawer.
It was dark outside by now, but Severus felt full of energy. He decided to go for a walk – his steps considerably lighter than ever before.
Let off with probation. He had a second chance and he was going to do it right this time.