SECOND CHANCE – the sequel
by Lady Memory
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling, who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.
All my gratitude to my betas Pellegrina e Xoxphoenix. Many thanks to all my kind readers and reviewers.
This chapter is dedicated to Godwit, who asked about the wizarding world in Italy ;)
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Part XXI
Wrapped in Lily's arms, his head resting under her chin, Snape closed his eyes and lost himself in the blissful, unfamiliar sensation of being coddled, while she talked in soft whispers that tickled his ear delightfully.
"You have never been good at apologising, Severus. That's why I appreciate so much what you did with James… It must have cost you a lot."
"Lily…" he murmured, feeling his heart dilate with emotion. His hand slowly reached for her hand, and gently wrapped around it. She bent and kissed him quickly on his cheek. Again her hair brushed his skin, and he had to force himself to stand still. The desire to return her kiss was overwhelming, but he couldn't risk disgusting her with unwanted tenderness. He hoped so much that she would allow him a gesture sooner or later, but for the moment he could only wait and control himself.
"Lily…" he repeated and, in his blissful haze, he thought that her unexpected visit must be a reward. The idea affirmed itself powerfully, while he basked in that soothing feeling. Yes, he had sincerely tried to make amends with young James Potter, and fate had rewarded him. It was clear proof that Minerva was right, that his existence was still worth living, and that there was still a drop of happiness waiting for him, – even in that suffocating world of frames. Emotions ran forcefully in his fibres, and colours danced before his eyes, while his head nestled cosily against the warm skin of her throat.
"What a wonderful gift you have given me, Severus," she whispered tenderly, holding him in the circle of her arms.
Gift? The word shone in his hazy brain like a flash in the night and, suddenly, Snape remembered. A new stream of joy invaded his heart.
"I have something special for you, dear," he announced with a hoarse voice.
"Something special?" Lily asked with a smile and, for a moment, he expected and hoped for her to kiss him again. But she stood waiting in an amused, interrogative silence, so he got up and turned to face her. How beautiful she was, how perfect, how desirable! A shiver ran through his spine in delightful anticipation of the surprise he was going to offer: such an unworthy gift to her exquisiteness, but still, "his" gift.
"Come with me," Snape declared. Hand in hand, he guided her into the new picture that Bernardi had prepared, and Albus Severus had chosen.
"Oh, Severus!" Lily breathed, when she saw the balcony and the blooming flowers surrounding it. "How beautiful! Is this really for me?"
Her face was both admiring and astonished, and Snape felt an immense happiness.
"This is your new home at Hogwarts," he declared proudly. "And this is for you," he continued, taking Bernardi's glittering rose in his hands and offering it to her with an awkward bow.
Lily watched him and the flower, and her lips trembled: with an emotion that made Snape's heart twist in elation, she took the rose and inclined her head to inhale its scent, closing her eyelids with a sigh. Then she raised her face again to look at him, her eyes luminous with tears.
Snape couldn't control himself anymore and bent to kiss her, searching for her mouth. But Lily stiffened instantly and turned her head, drawing back as if she had been insulted. Frozen, he stopped his gesture and watched her with an apologetic look, cursing himself for his clumsiness.
Then Lily's expression changed again, and she came closer and kissed him lightly, very lightly, on his lips. Baffled, Snape watched her, and she said, with a forcedly happy voice, "I shouldn't have… but this will be a nice memory for both of us."
"Memory?" he repeated, frowning in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"
Lily hesitated.
"I'm going home, Severus," she finally replied. "I have visited the castle and spoken with the ones I used to know when I was alive. Now I'm finished. I want to go back to my family and stay with them for the rest of my days."
His eyes widened in pain, and Lily hastened to complete her sentence. "I'm sorry." She averted her gaze in embarrassment. "You know you will be always dear to me."
Snape was speechless.
"But… but why?" he finally articulated.
"Severus!" she sighed in what sounded like slight exasperation. "Don't you see? We are memories ourselves! Painted memories on a canvas. What does all this coming and going mean? What else can we do, except watch and remember? We have had our chance, years ago… Now it's all ended."
"No!" he rebelled violently, his mind clinging ferociously to Minerva's words. "Nothing is ever ended when we still have the chance to change it."
Her eyes veiled. "What could we change by now, Severus?" she asked. "I lost my life before you, and I am resigned to my fate."
His pain was mounting unbearable.
"I don't want to watch and remember uselessly!" Snape protested.
"I'm sorry," she replied, watching him with alarmed eyes, "but this is exactly what scares me about you. Albus Severus has told me of your lessons. I'm glad he shows so much affection for you, but frankly, Severus, what's the meaning of all this? What are you trying to prove? We are only paintings!"
He felt the bars of the cage described by Minerva close around him.
"It's useless… it's all useless…" he murmured, fighting against desperation. "Was she deceiving me?"
Misunderstanding his words, Lily asked with a worried voice, "Did I make a mistake coming here?"
"No. But you are making a terrible one now. I beg of you, Lily, think again about your choice." He was definitely imploring. She considered him, and her face saddened.
"No. I can't. That would mean I would have to lie. And I have always been true to my word."
He watched her. Her decision was irrevocable, he knew it far too well.
"So, is this your last word, Mrs. Potter?" Snape asked calmly; Lily stiffened at his use of her married name. But her eyes remained undecipherable, though her voice softened in regret.
"Yes, it is… Professor Snape."
He instinctively clenched his fists, but he immediately released them with an effort, adding in hardly controlled emotion, "Then please go away, and never come back. It would hurt me too much."
"You will be alone," Lily tried incongruously.
"I have been alone for my whole life, and I'll continue to be so."
"I'm sorry," she murmured. His eyes narrowed.
"At least you are sorry. Last time we quarreled in real life, you were only contemptuous."
His words were harsh and meant to hurt her, but his heart was breaking in pain: he had lost her for the second time, and no more occasions would be offered to him. It was the final crumbling of his hopes, the ending of his dreams, and his mind was silently screaming.
Lily lowered her head in defeat.
"You know you'll always have my gratitude."
Anguish was diffusing upon her features, but Snape stubbornly refused himself the consolation of admitting it.
"It's not what I wanted, but thank you anyway," he answered sharply.
"Let's part as friends, can we?" Lily offered with a desolate voice.
"No. No more friends," Snape whispered. Then he took a strand of her long, beautiful hair in his hand. Slowly, conveying all his desperation and his love in that gesture, he brought it to his lips and kissed it.
"Farewell, my love," he murmured brokenly, and let the strand fall free.
Lily watched him with something similar to fear in her eyes. Then, with a sob, she covered her face with her hands and moved a few steps backwards, until her back met the limit of the frame. There she finally turned and ran out of his picture.
Snape closed his eyes, feeling a devastating pain lacerate his heart. Moving unsteadily, he sank in his chair, crossed his arms on the table and rested his head on them, his body shaken by harsh, tearless sobs.
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In the secrecy of his room, Blaise Zabini placed a little metallic box on a table, then he sat and contemplated it with trepidation and hope in his eyes. A splendid barn owl had delivered it in the afternoon, but, till that moment, the wizard hadn't found the courage to open it. The room was silent, and everything around was still; only his heart was thudding in anxiety. That box could change the course of his life, and Blaise longed and feared at the same time the revelations it could contain.
Finally, he raised a hand and gently touched a button. With a soft, noiseless movement, the lid opened, and a column of light sprang out from it. The shadowy figure of an old man dressed in rich robes appeared, moving as gracefully and weightlessly as if he were floating in the light. Zabini contemplated him with awed eyes. The man's face was severe, his gaze sharp, his lips thin. Everything suggested the idea of an immense inner power quietly concealed under the frailty of that old body.
The figure raised his head and looked at Zabini with ageless eyes. For a moment, the younger wizard was scared, but then he remembered that the vision was only a holographic image, something that had been imported from Muggle culture. Silence was even thicker now, and the old man began to talk.
"Dilectissime fili, salve atque vale."
Zabini felt a pang in his heart. The figure was speaking Latin, and for a moment, Blaise was lost in panic. But the language changed immediately into English, fluid and with a slight Italian accent.
"Greetings, my beloved great grandson. I am Biagio Zabini, your father's grandfather, and head of our family."
The voice of the figure mirrored his aspect; it sounded somewhat old and frail, yet power and magnificence flowed richly and easily with every word. The younger wizard relaxed and watched his ancestor with great curiosity. Finally, his past was going to be revealed and his origins brought to light.
"I'm glad you have my same name," Biagio Zabini continued with a thoughtful smile. "This is proof that, in spite of his faults, your father held the family traditions in due respect."
A deep breath, and the old man once more seemed to stare at his grandson. Zabini returned the gaze, emotion growing in his chest.
"We have been very happy to receive your message. Maestro Bernardi, of the Bernardi family from Siena, sent it to me, saying that his third son, Marcello, had met you in England and that you had expressed the wish of getting in touch with your family. The Bernardis have been our friends for generations, and they have created many masterpieces on our behalf; so I was happy it was one of them who met you. Another one probably wouldn't have given you a chance. And I will explain why."
Suddenly, the great wizard appeared immensely saddened and weary, as if his task had become too arduous to accomplish. He cleared his throat.
"Mine will be a long message, grandson, long and perhaps difficult for you. Please excuse my accent. Though I have been taught to speak in more than thirty languages, English wasn't a priority at my time. I will nonetheless take great care in my explanations and, of course, all of your questions will be answered at the right time."
He paused, as if searching for words.
"I'll begin by telling you something about the family you come from. We are, I can tell you this with great pride, one of the most renowned families in the North of Italy. Our origins lose themselves in the mist of time."
Blaise was definitely hooked by the magic of that voice. Marcello Bernardi hadn't told him much about the Zabini family, so he was listening avidly. Every word added new strength to his hopes: the discovery of being a descendant of such a noble family was completely unexpected, and the opportunities that such family ties could offer him were surpassing his highest ambitions. In the meantime, the old voice continued calmly.
"I am what is called an "IntraMundi Magus", that is, an exponent of one of the most elitist and secret diplomacies of the world, the wizarding one. Italians have always been present in diplomatic affairs, and our family has always had a main role. The whole history of our beloved country has been a continual fight to survive during ages of invasions, wars and intrigues. Diplomacy has therefore been the only way to stay alive for the numerous Italian lords ruling the various little states into which Italy was divided for so many centuries."
"The magic world has never been so secret here. Many of those ancient princes or rulers had brothers or sisters who happily discovered themselves to be magically gifted, thus greatly enhancing the power and the chances of their families. The sovereigns who weren't so lucky with their relatives, did their best to have at least a magical counsellor at their court. Obviously, the thing wasn't publicized, but the populace silently knew."
"The Italian magical world and Muggle world have consequently been strongly linked, exchanging and borrowing talents with great profit on both sides. Muggles so immensely gifted as to be considered wizards, like painters and sculptors and poets, have always benefited from the tacit protection of the wizarding communities. At the same time, the magical population has been regarded as a source of strength and influence, and carefully safeguarded by the political authorities since the Roman Empire."
Blaise was still intent in absorbing all this information when his great grandfather's voice changed again, becoming a bit harsher.
"Now, coming to a more private story. Your father, Cosimo, was the youngest of my grandchildren. He always was a rebellious spirit, and soon decided to leave the family, rejecting his heritage when he was only 25, the age of consent in our world. By doing so, he implicitly accepted to be exiled. Our traditions are very severe with those who refuse their obligations."
The eyes of the old man became suddenly cold, and Blaise felt himself shiver. He held his breath, and waited even more anxiously for the revelations that were still to come.
"One of your uncles continued to keep track of your father all the same. So we got to know that he had reached England and married your mother. A woman of dubious reputation, I'm sorry to say."
The old wizard paused, lowering his head in meditation. Then he seemed to watch Zabini again.
"But that is past, and the past can't be changed, unfortunately. The marriage didn't last too long. A couple of years after you were born, your father died in a violent dispute with an unknown wizard. We suppose that the fight had been deliberately provoked… however, the Ministry never found proof of it and, as your father was a foreigner, nobody cared too much for his disgraceful ending."
For a moment, the old man's voice trembled in indignation, showing the depth of his sorrow for his ill-fated grandson. Then his tone lowered again to an alarming calm.
"From that time onwards, your uncle kept an eye on you."
Suddenly, Blaise felt extremely uneasy. Though he knew that the figure couldn't effectively see him, he raised a hand to cover his face, as if concealing his thoughts.
"We know that you have been educated at Hogwarts, and that you have been sorted into Slytherin, under the guide of the late Severus Snape. Your curriculum of studies is excellent. However, we have been extremely disappointed to see that you have been associated with the infamous Tom Riddle, who named himself Lord Voldemort, and with his band of so called Death Eaters."
Blaise blushed. The contempt in those words was very hard to stand, and for the thousandth time in his life, he silently cursed the choices that had led him to those paths of disgrace. And, with even more anger, Blaise cursed the man that had tricked him and his Housemates so well: Severus Snape.
"But let's forget those unfortunate events," the older wizard sighed. "You were young, too very young, and nobody was there to guide you. Your father decided to leave us, and according to our rules, this has put you automatically out of the line of succession, and excluded you from the Italian wizarding fellowship. That's why you were so lucky to meet a Bernardi."
Blaise's cheeks reddened in embarrassment, and the old Zabini sighed again, as if he could see the pain on his great grandson's face.
"However, times change, and your uncles think that it's unjust to condemn you because of your father's faults. Family is family, and our blood runs in your veins. We know that your education has been completely different from ours, so your role in the family probably won't be what I would have hoped. But a valid potionist is always appreciated. Therefore, we are ready to welcome you back."
Widening his eyes in surprise and immense relief, Blaise unconsciously clasped his hands as if in prayer.
"Ma… c'è sempre un ma che rovina ogni cosa," his great grandfather added slowly and, though not understanding his words, Zabini felt a chilling sensation in his heart, the premonition of something terrible still to come.
"There is always a "but" that ruins the story, our proverb says," the old wizard translated quietly, and sighed for the third time, crossing his arms.
"I'm sorry, grandson, my news must have pained you, and yet the most important thing is still to come. Now listen carefully, Blaise, because from your answer to this question, your future will depend."
Zabini raised his eyes, hope and fear tightening his heart. But, as he continued to listen, and the sense of what he was asked became clear to him, his expression changed, becoming more and more desperate.
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The portrait of a young woman was running blindly from picture to picture, staring at the ground to avoid the gazes and the questions of the other figures that she encountered in her frantic flight, and that sometimes tried to stopped her.
Soon she reached an ancient painting in one of the corridors, and there her mad run found an end, when she knocked against something soft. A hand grabbed her arm, and she raised her eyes in panic, only to meet Albus Dumbledore's sweet smile.
"Lily," he asked, holding her gently but firmly. "Where are you going so quickly? Is there something troubling you?"
"Oh, Albus!" she cried, and suddenly her knees went weak. With a soft gasp, she threw herself into his comforting arms and hugged him tightly. "It's so good to see you!"
Her voice was heavy with suppressed emotion. He hugged her tightly as well, frowning worriedly over the top of her red head.
"Please tell me, dear," he asked kindly.
"Oh, Albus," she repeated between broken sobs. "I just said goodbye to Severus… I told him that I am leaving to go home… forever."
The old wizard sighed, and the girl shivered in his arms.
"I have hurt him. Again." Lily sobbed. "But… but it was my only choice."
"Why?" Dumbledore simply asked, trying to disentangle himself from her hold and look at her. But she hugged him even more tightly, hiding her face in his chest and sniffling softly against his robes. He caressed her hair, and waited patiently.
"He scares me," she confessed after a while. The hand on her hair stilled, and she finally raised her eyes to stare at him.
"Scares you?" Dumbledore inquired softly.
"He… he behaves as if he were still alive," she tried to explain. "There is something, a weird sort of energy that seems to flow from him. It's… it's scary!"
She breathed and continued in an almost petulant way, "I mean, we are all paintings, Albus, just paintings! What else could we be? What else could we hope for? And yet, he thinks that we can still do something… that we could change our future…"
"Lily," Dumbledore sighed, but she went on feverishly. "Isn't he horribly mistaken? After all, there are laws we all should obey…"
"Lily!" The old wizard exclaimed severely, and she blushed and hid her face against his chest again.
"Tell me the truth," he ordered. "I'm sure there is more."
"How do you know, Albus?" she murmured faintly. "But you are right. Yes, there is something else. Something even worse."
He waited. The girl hesitated, then began to speak with an almost imperceptible voice.
"I love James, you know it, Albus… and yet… and yet…"
She swallowed hard. Words seemed to come out with great pain and difficulty.
"And yet, when I talk with Severus, when I see what he has done, what he has become… sometimes… sometimes I think that perhaps… perhaps I was in too much of a hurry… perhaps I have made a mistake…"
She definitely broke, and sobs shook her violently, while she clung desperately to the old wizard.
"I MUST leave, Albus, don't you see?" she cried. "I cannot betray my husband. And I cannot offer Severus anything, not even my friendship. I came here to help him, and give him forgiveness and peace. But I have only ruined everything again, and made him suffer even more."
She abruptly stopped, her features altered in pain.
"Who will forgive ME, this time? I have always misunderstood him!"
"You are not the only one," Dumbledore replied, and his eyes filled with tears. "We are all guilty, Lily. All guilty. But the biggest responsibilities fall on me."
His head leaned wearily on her shoulder as if it was his turn to searching for comfort, while he bitterly admitted, "And nobody will ever forgive me for what I have done."
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Author's note:
Dilectissime fili, salve atque vale: most beloved son, greetings and be well. These are the ancient Latin words to open or close a letter.
IntraMundi Magus: my personal invention, meaning something like "wizard between worlds".
Biagio is the Italian form for Blaise. I chose the name Cosimo for Blaise Zabini's father as a tribute for the wonderful Italian author Italo Calvino and for his marvellous book "Il Barone rampante (The Baron in the Trees)", in which he features two brothers, Cosimo e Biagio Piovasco di Rondò. However, Cosimo is an ancient Florentine name, used in the Medici family.
Last but not least: as you have probably noticed, my updates are now every 15 days. I'm sorry, but I cannot keep a quicker pace. I have no more chapters ready at this point, so that means that I have to write them and somebody must beta them, to avoid mental problems to my kind readers. Now, my two betas are a bit busy at the moment, so they cannot grant me a regular cooperation. Question: Is there anybody out there that would be interested in betaing an Italian? Please let me know. Thanks in advance.