Repeat the Past - Part I

Prologue

Severus Snape was undeniably dying.

And he was also undeniably…furious.

It was not necessarily the circumstances that had made him furious about dying; though the snake's venom was potent and Potter had been there and it was in the Shrieking Shack. It was more the sheer….injustice. He had been destined to die in a dusty dilapidated derelict building, alone, brought down by a cruel master under a pretence, and comforted only by the son of his greatest enemy.

He lay, paralysed by the serpent's poison, unable to move nor blink nor breathe - pointless now, he presumed - and hissed only into the void that awaited him, "I never stood a chance."

He was certainly not expecting a response; not that it was a voice he could recognise nor place. We gave you multiple chances.

Fine. He would entertain this little charade, just as his whole adult life had been a charade, a masquerade, a brutal denial of any truth, "No - not when it mattered. My destiny was determined before I sought any redemption."

You would do things differently, now?

"Of course!" He was dying an excruciatingly painful death. The chance to avoid that would be welcomed.

Even though you blame others for your fate?

Oh how he blamed others. The Dark Lord, Potter senior, Potter junior, Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, and -

And -

You blame him, most of all, much as you try not to.

The night on the Astronomy Tower. The unfamiliar guilt in those familiar blue eyes, visible only at the final moment, when it could make no true difference.

"He did what he had to do."

You could not change him?

"Of course not. But, I could have been better."

We agree.

He hesitated, even as the cold threatened. "You…you agree?"

We think you could have been better. For him. With him.

"I don't…"

You desire a second chance, Severus Snape, to improve your fortunes. It is not as simple as that; you cannot simply repeat the past. But you can change a different future.

Time had never agreed with his logical mind. "What do you mean?"

You will learn, in time. If you are truly driven to make that difference, if you have truly learned from all that has befallen you, then you will succeed in granting your wish.

"Learned from what?"

Nothing answered him.

"Learned from…" The cold was almost unbearable now, and he wished it would end, would he ever feel warm again? "Learned from what?"

Good luck, Severus Snape.

"Good luck with…good luck with what?"

Was this some poison induced madness? How was he even still able to think? He exhaled irritatedly.

Actually…

The breathing was suddenly new. Something he had not noticed before, maybe in fact forgotten, and now -

What would happen if he opened eyes he did not realise were closed - but they must be closed, for he was staring at the inside of his eyelids. Could he open his eyes? Could dead people open their eyes?

Speaking of, could dead people hear noises? Perhaps - ghosts - but did ghosts feel? Did they feel…damp and cold and hard beneath their thighs and lower back? Did they feel…moisture on the tips of his fingers, and on his cheeks and beading in his hair? Did they feel…hungry and tired, both gnawing sensations? Did they smell rain and soot and -

Severus sat up. He surveyed the scene before him. It was a brick wall. Far enough away, but still, a brick wall. Which was not the scenery of the Shrieking Shack as far as he recalled. There was another brick wall, much further away, to his left. He appeared to be leaning, as he had before when the snake had struck, against another brick wall.

This was…an alleyway.

An alleyway…and it was raining.

What in Merlin's name am I doing in an alleyway in the rain?

He pushed himself back against the wall and walked back until he was standing, glancing down at himself. The blood was gone. His robes were damp, but it appeared to be from the rain. He pushed his dark hair back behind his ears and tilted forward slightly so he could examine the opening of the alley. One hand on the wall to keep himself steady, he willed himself to remember how to walk and moved closer to where there was definitely more light and sound and movement. His senses seemed blurred into some cacophony of everything which was confusing and overwhelming and he wondered how he had ever existed effectively before in such a myriad. Clearly the idea of dying and an endless empty nothingness void had altered his perceptions. He had been so close…

There were letters he could look at now, large letters, on the sides of buildings - and he could hear voices, not many, as it appeared late. The voices were strange. They were clear, but nonsensical. So were the letters. Severus pondered them curiously. They were familiar to him but…

French.

They were French words. The people were speaking French.

He appeared to be in France.

It did not appear to be the same France as he would expect, having never been. The buildings seemed old; in fact, everything seemed old. He thought he could hear hooves, like a carriage, and there was very little lighting beyond black iron reaching for the heavens.

And everything was in French.

What in Merlin's name am I doing in France?

Severus had never believed in coincidences or luck or fate - but even he had to challenge his own logic when the answer to his internal questioning monologue actually stumbled straight into him, from the obscured area of Severus' vision around the corner of the alleyway entrance. He caught the figure before the figure fell, and could feel elevated warmth through damp shirt and trembling even while he tried to hold the figure up, "Easy. You could have fallen."

"So many times." A response he could understand. Softly sharp, slightly slurred.

The returning grip on Severus was firm. He was clearly no ghost. The hands were smooth.

The man looked up at Severus. He appeared young, perhaps not even an adult, a not quite accomplished attempt at a clean shave, long auburn hair pulled back into what Severus presumed was tied at the back of his head. None of those details mattered as much as his eyes.

He would know those eyes, any when, any how, any where.

Oh, how Severus knew those eyes.

His heart contracted painfully, as if gripped, twisted, pulled.

Tugged.

Severus Snape was undeniably living.

And this was also undeniably… Albus.

Author's Note: This is inspired by a line (and I suppose overall theme) of my favourite piece of literature. This has developed over a good few months of pondering, and has been encouraged by requests from readers who have asked for my take on particular periods of the Albus and Severus timeline that I have not explored before. I did not want it to read like every other amazing fiction out there; I wanted it to have that unique SS19 twist which is why it has had to wait until now - and admittedly, until Part II in full.

I hope it offers intrigue. The plot is basically completed. There will be two parts, with multiple chapters, with Part I being shorter than Part II. All being well, Part II will be my 2020 NaNoWriMo project while Part I will be completed over the summer.

I am working on my other fictions too, whether they are older or more recent. I have always needed multiple projects on the go. My time is sporadically spent on writing due to my commitments to being a professor, but I am doing my best to have more time to write.

This project, therefore, is dedicated to Albus and Severus because I realise, even after all this time (11 years this October), they will remain part of my always.

I hope it brings distraction, comfort, peace, or joy in strange times. Stay safe. Much love ~ SS19