InsaneJournal

A Second Chance At Life
Title: A Second Chance At Life
Author: quill lumos
Pairings: Gen fpr now but rising later
Warnings: None
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.

Edit: This story is now a chaptered story. It has been on hiatus for a year and is now being updated again so I am posting it here. Sorry for spamming you guys!

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 was on hiatus for a year but I am writing it again now and hope to update at least once a month.


Notes: This story was written "snape_after_dh" challenge on live journal. It was written as a one shot but has now become a longer story. This is post DH but will be complient with it, and with the epilogue. There will be some Harry/Draco and eventually some Harry/Sev. But that won't happen for a very long time.
Thanks to Claudia for betaing and being your wonderful, supportive self and to Cyndie who is simply divine.

For Mystkyten because she is wonderful!



A Second Chance At Life


Chapter 1 – Little Boy Lost



As he lay dying in the shrieking shack, his life slowly fading, the last thing Severus 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 truly 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 Potter’s spawn alive for her. 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, had he not? Harry Potter was Lily’s son too. He saw it at last, when it was already far too late.

“Take them…take them!” he rasped as he gave the boy his memories, as he clutched in desperation at Harry’s robes. Lily’s son had to know. Severus knew he was dying; he desperately needed to tell the boy everything – everything Dumbledore had not – so he did the only thing he could think of under the circumstances, he shared his memories, all of them…well, all the relevant ones anyway. A slow smirk appeared on the pale face at thoughts he would not share, but it faded almost instantly. Now Lily’s son would hate him totally, as if the boy did not hate him enough already…not that he deserved anything less.

But as Harry accepted the memories and placed them in what appeared to be a flask, presumably for later viewing, 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, 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…” the words barely made it past his pallid lips.

I am sorry, Harry. The words were almost tangible…almost, but not quite. It was too late, he could speak no longer and his limbs felt too heavy to move.

Severus must have drifted for a while because, when he came to himself again, Harry had vanished and the stench of evil was back. The Dark Lord had returned to the shack but Severus, his mind spinning, could not focus on a reason why. He could only hope Harry was long gone for his capture now would be disastrous. It was not time, not yet. 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 spat. Severus did not know to whom the Dark Lord was talking; he could not see properly or move his head to get a better view. However, he did know to whom the monster was referring. 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 site of his murder. Was he dead? He could not speak and his limbs were frozen…it must be 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 could not 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. His hearing seemed intact as well and the distinct noises of the forest were plain to hear as well as the comments of the men who held him.

“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 misdemeanors. 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, having, after all, 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. But not for long, if Nagini’s poison did not get him, the creatures of the forest would.

Severus wondered where Harry was and hoped he was winning. He wanted so desperately to be there for the final battle, to help the Gryffindor and to protect him, but it was not to be. The teenaged saviour-of-the-wizarding-world was so physically weak compared to the Dark Lord and he was so young and all on his own. Groaning inwardly, Severus wondered in despair how Potter could possibly stand up to and triumph over the consummate evil that was Voldemort. Harry surely couldn’t, could he? Severus tried his best to believe in even 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, it seemed, was not about to oblige him too quickly.

I was cruel to you, Harry! he shouted, but no sound could be heard. The words were only in his mind. Harry could not hear him anymore; no one would ever hear him again.

Severus had experienced many regrets during his sad and sorry life, but it was his treatment of Harry that haunted him most. He wished with all his heart his ability to speak had lasted a little longer, a moment or two, that was all. Just so he could have apologised to the boy for the way he had treated him over the years. Harry had looked at him so kindly during those last few moments, almost as if he had sympathy for his most hated teacher; something so unexpected he wondered if he’d imagined it. No one had ever sympathised with Severus in his trials and tribulations, except for Dumbledore (and he always had his ulterior motives) and, of course, Lily herself…so very long ago.

I’m sorry, Harry. I wish I could try again. The thought was softer this time but none the less heartfelt.

Suddenly, in the relative quiet of the forest, Severus heard a chuckle, a familiar sort of laugh penetrate his fuzzy consciousness. He knew it far better than he knew his own (but then how often had he laughed, anyway?). A frown formed in his mind but he was not sure it actually made it to the surface of his face. Was he going crazy? He surely could not be hearing that particularvoice.

“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, and certainly 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, a feather light touch stroked his cheek, a ghost of a whisper tickled his ear and then it was gone and he was alone again. He felt chilled. The blood that had been so warm when it 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 just could not bring himself to go back to the castle and face everyone…not yet. Harry felt numb. He knew pain and grief would kick in soon at 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?

No, he couldn’t face anyone at the moment, let alone just about everyone he knew. Seeing grief in the eyes of his friends at their losses was an anguish he could not contemplate just now. He couldn’t cope with his own losses, let alone theirs. Voldemort was dead at last, yes, but at what cost?

A slight movement in the direction of the forest caught his attention and he thought he saw Hagrid. Was the giant searching for injured animals? It would be just like him. There had been so many hexes flying around and the school had suffered a great deal of damage. Any number of animals, not to mention magical creatures, on the fringes of the forest could well have been caught in the crossfire. The damage was so extensive it would take months, maybe years to repair, but Harry did not 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 who were magically restrained. Harry didn’t know any of them, but they were clearly Death Eaters as evidenced by their robes,. One of them bore a striking resemblance to Vincent Crabbe, presumably Crabbe senior and Harry wondered whether he knew yet that his son was dead. He had seen Lucius Malfoy held at wand point, looking pale and wan, while Draco and Narcissa stood nearby 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 stood watching. Without conscious thought, 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. Up ahead an owl hooted. Harry wondered if it was delivering post to someone and his heart ached as he thought of Hedwig.

Off to the left he saw a flash of light, a bluish glow, and he froze. Could it be a unicorn? Harry had not seen an adult 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 foul creature who had perpetrated that dreadful crime was finally, irrevocably dead. With a glimmer of hope, Harry wondered if unicorns had returned to the Forbidden Forest.

Holding his breath, Harry slowly and carefully began to move forward, desperately hoping he would catch a better glimpse of the animal up ahead. It felt like a sign, somehow, of better things to come. The bushes 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 what seemed to be a thicket of Rhododendrons whilst Harry made his way slowly through the clumps of bracken that seemed to impede his progress at each step.

Finally, he pushed through the dense undergrowth to where it began thinning 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 as he gasped for air in stunned shock.

“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 cried out. “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 registered sadness at her disappearance, he also felt somehow warmed, comforted, reassured. Strangely, perhaps, considering he had caught only a glimpse of the marvelous 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 stood.

A sudden movement caught his eye and he stared at a pile of rocks off to the side, behind which there seemed to be a pile of dark clothing. Had it moved or was the filtered sunlight playing tricks? Harry 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? He had only beaten the Dark Lord by accident but it had taken all he had to give. He was fairly certain he would not be able to fight a full grown wizard at the moment, let alone a Death Eater. Perhaps he should stun his opponent before he could be attacked?

Slowly creeping closer, Harry realised the lump under the clothes looked too small to be a fully grown wizard and suddenly he felt sick. Here was another something reminiscent of first year, the shadowy figure that looked like a child. He remembered forth year as well, the 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 he had enough energy to fight the man this time, not so soon. But he was all alone out here in the Forbidden Forest and he could not let the monstrous creature get away yet again.

Harry crawled closer.

Then whoever or whatever 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. Surely Voldemort didn’t sob! Harry couldn’t imagine such a circumstance at all. Deciding on a different course of action, he cleared his throat rather noisily and now it was the stranger’s turn to still.

The figure turned and looked at him, black robes falling back slightly.

It was a child.

And not just any child. It was a small, thin boy with dark, straggly hair, stringy hanks of the greasy strands partly obscuring 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 that was somewhat dominated by a rather large nose which 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 completely and utterly stunned.

How in the name of all that was magic could this child be here? He could not for the life of him figure out what had happened. Harry had seen the ex-Death Eater die and he certainly had not been a child at the time. So how did a five or six-year-old Severus Snape come to be in the Forbidden Forest just hours after Harry had killed Voldemort, just hours after the last battle ended? Mere hours after Harry had seen the man bleed to death on the dirty floor of the Shrieking Shack!

Still dumbstruck by his discovery, Harry didn’t know what to do or say. In a sudden, jerky movement 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 streaming down his cheeks and Harry’s heart clenched with pity. He knew one thing for sure, he could not leave little Severus 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 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 forming a fist in front of him, his chin raised 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 the 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 skeptical and when he raised a small, dark eyebrow, just like his adult self might have done, Harry almost laughed and managed to catch himself just in time.

“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.”

“Big people don’t always keep promises,” Severus said earnestly, “mostly don’t, seems like.”

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 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?”

Harry watched with interest as a small hand made the journey back to his mouth and this time his grubby little thumb was plugged right in, effectively preventing any attempt to speak. It was easy to see the child still didn’t completely trust him. After careful consideration, however, he nodded instead and cautiously extended his other hand clutching Harry’s fingers with his own small ones.

Part of Harry wanted to cry for the little boy who obviously had no idea what was happening to him and no clue who Harry might be; but, he had obviously had enough of being alone and so had decided to trust Harry, something Harry was pretty sure did not come easily to this child.

Harry stood up and helped the child to his feet as the huge, dark robe fell to the ground and pooled around the boy’s feet. The shirt underneath, with the top three buttons undone, exposed a neck that seemed completely unblemished, but the evidence of past injury was very apparent as the robes were stiff and hardened with blood. Harry had seen the blood for himself, the last time 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 in any way connected with Dumbledore; it seemed exactly the sort of thing 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 King’s Cross and made his decision to come back and fight, Harry had no doubt that Dumbledore could somehow stopper death and perhaps did have the power to offer an alternate future.

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 memory of the emptiness and the bleakness of the way Severus Snape had lived and died chilled Harry. Yet the fact that he had never deviated from his self imposed tasks: to protect Harry, even when he hated him, to contribute to the destruction of Voldemort, and to never waver from these intentions, 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 of the events that had transpired this day to bring about his situation. Dumbledore could not have known 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.

Suddenly Harry remembered the silver doe. It was the symbol for his mother, true, but was also the form of Snape’s Patronus. Harry had been given a message, had been led to this place. Maybe Dumbledore had known that Snape would not be alone so very long after all.

The little boy was still looking at him, eyes narrowed, thumb in mouth, long robes puddled around his feet. There was no way the child could walk any distance like that and Harry thought 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 skirt of the long robes so he could fashion a type of poncho for the 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 the child had bare feet. It made sense, if only he’d thought about it, as the shoes Severus had been wearing would now be far too big for this little creature. Harry wondered how long the little boy had been wandering through the forest, clutching handfuls of robe so that he didn’t trip over them, and whether he had lost his shoes along the way.

Before he even realised he’d made a decision, Harry reached down and scooped the little boy into his arms wrapping the cut-up robe around him like a blanket. “I’m 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 whispered. “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, giving gracious permission.

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, 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 and Harry felt them soaking into his neck as 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. Harry wondered about who had hurt him before and why the child had not asked about any of the adults in his life – that was…if he remembered them.

“W’us 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 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 the questions could wait, they weren’t that important. Of primary concern right now was getting 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.”


***************

Part two.,