Chapter 2: Dying, living and curse Merlin.
DEDICATION: The many great fanfictions that have inspired this, and Alan Rickman.
If he could have another chance, I want him to live for himself.
Severus Snape woke up feeling horrible, like a half dozen Bellatrix Lestranges were screeching in his ears and he couldn't make it stop. He stood on wobbly legs and stifled a gasp in his throat.
It was Spinner's End, dirty and covered in dust, just as it was thirty odd years ago when he was still just a child.
He was in his cot, his cracked mirror in front of him, paper and glass and wood splinters littered the ground. He could hear his mother walking downstairs, probably preparing lunch or dinner with the meager findings in the half broken fridge.
He waved his hand and the dates appeared in neon green numbers in front of him, just as he hoped they would.
1966.10.9
He still has time.
He heaved a soft sigh and flopped back onto his mattress, greasy hair framing the dirty pillow as he absently rubbed his fingers, gazing into the mirror on the other side of the room.
The person staring back was just as he remembered himself to be.
Impossibly greasy hair, long and in quite unequal lengths. Sticks for limbs with abnormally long fingers. Bruises and lashes covered his wax colored skin. Face and nose smeared with grime and dirt. Black eyes the color of coal dust, hollow and emotionless.
In short, he looked absolutely horrible.
But everything and anything he looked and found was telling him one thing, he came back.
He came back to 1966 when he was just six years old.
Merlin really is a righteous old goat that enjoys nothing more than making people's lives more difficult than it actually is and really should be thrown into a fire.
He lifted his left hand in front of his eyes, cool black eyes marveling at the sight of each individual fingers. Beneath all of that grime and dirt was a hand untainted by twenty years of potions making.
He pulled down his ragged sleeve and there it was, unblemished skin. Red from the lashes and swollen from the bruises. But it was still clean.
All of that hasn't happened yet. The desperation the hopelessness the despair. The memories were still fresh on his mind, but none of that existed on his body.
His six years old body.
He did not want to experience everything again. He had already been hurt too many times. The hope that Lily brought him before Potter and Black snatched it all away for themselves. The care and consideration the Malfoys gave him when he was no more than a scrappy little kid with just a tiny bit of talent before he repaid them by abandoning them to their fates. The dreams the Dark Lord told him, that he will bring all of them to glory, before destroying everything they held for.
The excitement quickly wore off and he was faced with all the things he did and did not do in the past.
He curled up into a ball and desperately wished all of this was a dream.
It was so easy to believe that it was all a dream.
His life flashed before his eyes, his memories contorted into silver strings and mists as he felt the warm blood dripping from his wounds, his crafty fingers unable to stop the liquid from turning warm to cold, blood red to a rusty brown. He couldn't even bring himself to reach into his own robes and find that crystal bottle of antidote that will save him.
He was one of the greatest potions masters of the world, he saved so many people, yet he didn't want to save himself. He wanted to die, even though life was only a short distance away.
Memories flashes before his eyes, and he couldn't bring himself to stop them.
Long forgotten memories were presented before him, dug up from the deepest part of his organized mind and laid bare for him to see. To remember. To feel.
The blood felt so real, and he was cold.
He buried his head into his pillow, gasping. His vision starting to slip and he welcomed it. He died, so why should he live while everyone he knew died.
He wanted to die. He wanted to die! HE WANTED TO DIE!
His vision was blurring and he was struggling to breathe.
He couldn't see anything and knew it was an illusion. She smiled and said to him, "Severus, baby, I love you";
His mother smiled and said to him, "Severus, baby, I love you";
He saw Lucius' platinum blond hair shining in the sun, he held out his hand and said to him, "I am Lucius Malfoy, I would like to be your friend."
He saw Lily pull her red hair into a ponytail, she beamed and said to him, "Sev, you have to be happy."
He saw Dumbledore gave him his wrinkled but powerful hand and said to him, "My boy."
He saw a beautiful little Draco raising his pale little face and chubby little arms while calling to him, "Godfather!"
He saw the Savior's big green eyes looking at him quietly as if leading him to his salvation.
His warm, even though he knew that all of this was a simple illusion, designed by his mind to calm him from his panic attack.
He could not save his mother from the hands of his father, from her own cowardice.
He could not protect Lily from the Dark Lord's killing curse.
He can not take Lucius away from Azkaban.
He can no longer protect Draco from the war raging outside.
He personally took away the elderly person that gave him his salvation.
The guilt itself was suffocating.
... ...
"Sev, mummy's little baby ... "
"Severus, you will always be my friend."
"Severus, don't be so sad."
"Godfather."
"Professor Snape."
"Severus, my boy."
He felt warm.
There was a strange feeling in his chest. He felt warm. He felt he could do anything. He felt his tears slowly drying up and his fingers untwist from his hair. He felt himself sit up. He found his reflection in the dirty mirror and frowned.
There was a fiery determination in his eyes and the feeling in his chest was hope.
He was given a second chance, and his Slytherin pride refuses to allow him to just stand around and wallow in self-loathing. The blame game is for mindless Gryffindors, Slytherins admits their mistakes and learns from them. He could let his guilt consume him, or he could let it drive him.
This time, his mother will not be struck down protecting him, nor will she lose the Prince's pride. This time, Lily will be alive and with her son. This time, Lucius will be that proud and proper Head of Malfoy that walks around with his nose in the air, and Draco will never even think about war again. This time, Dumbledore will be inside his office drinking disgustingly sweet things and dying of tooth-ache.
This time, he'll make it happen.
A/N:
I started this story because I loved the idea of a second chance for a character that I hold in high esteem and I can't help but gasp at how OOC Severus is being at other second chances stories. Severus Snape is sarcastic and gloomy, cunning and dark, hates children and believes Dumbledore's sweets should be tossed into a fire. But he is soft-hearted and awkward at showing his kindness. He cares, but will not be overly excited about it. He holds his love as a sacred and protects the ones he loves with a vehement rage.
I wanted to write a Severus Snape that is true to his original character while also bringing change to him.
Slytherins are a bunch of stubborn idiots, and Severus is willing to walk down that road until he dies for something he believes in. He will live in guilt, but he will also live for himself.
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