Wonderful life

Disclaimer: I am but a poor child with imagination. If you recognise it, it isn’t mine. Severus, for example, isn’t mine, much though I would like it. Ah well, I can dream. Based on it’s a wonderful life.

Sev: I would never be that pathetic! Weeping over spilt milk! I would just get on with the task at hand

Ash: Whatever

Sev: You infantile moron.

Ash: Sshh. The story’s just beginning. You’re ruining the atmosphere.

Sev: What atmosphere? A more dismal set up for a story I have never see-

Ashara beats Severus over head with keyboard

Snape sighed. Sometimes, he wished he had never been born. Especially now. Lilly had just been killed, and all because of him. Voldemort had just left, though he had tried to stop him. Though any resistance was futile when Voldemort was concerned.

His life had been nothing but troubles and misery. It would have been better if he had never existed. James and Lily would still be alive. Voldemort would never have grown to such power. He had contributed nothing to this world, simply taken all the good things out of it. He should end it all. He only wished he had never blighted the earth in the first place with his presence.

“Oh, you do, do you?” a voice, from an invisible presence whom Snape couldn’t sense, whispered. He sat, head cradled in his pale hands, oblivious to the apparition. “Let me show you.”

To an observer, it would appear that Snape had just fainted. Or, to the more morbid observer, like he had dropped dead. But he was not dead. Merely in a deep sleep, visiting strange new places.

Oh, he thought. I must have fallen asleep. He stood in a cold wooden room. Strange dream, he mused. Then the hooded person appeared.

“Who are you?”

“You wished you did not exist. Let me show you the world you would have, according to your wishes.”

“Why?”

“Curiosity.”

“I am not curious! I am assured – I know – that this world would be better than any one with me in it.”

“Still.”

“Who are you? Take off your hood!”

“This is a dream. I am no one whom you know at this moment in time. Now, let me show you. Any idea where you are, or when?”

“A . . . I don’t know why I am indulging my dream . . . a hotel. A cheap hotel. A pub! The Leaky Cauldron. As for when . . . you tell me. If you are aiming to show me how much custom Tom will lose if I don’t exist, this is a feeble argument.”

“It is September. You would be eleven. Lily is staying here. At this time, in the other time, so were you. Do you remember it?”

He stiffened and nodded abruptly.

“Let me show you what her day is like in the absence of you.”

“No. No. I don’t want to. You can’t make me. Besides, it is a small incident. I’m sure that she would get over it soon. No! What are you doing?”

The figure had grabbed Severus tightly, in a vice-like grip, and they had apparated to the street outside. Diagon Alley. Though a lot more unsafe than at present. In his present.

Lily’s parents had dropped her off at The Leaky Cauldron, as instructed. She was then told by the teacher who was herding the muggle-borns (Snape was not one of them; his parents simply could not be bothered taking him in during the days preceding school to buy his things) not to stray from the pub, but she was so curious that she had to go and look around. This was her first time in the wizarding world.

The couple, unseen to everyone, watched as Lily stepped out of the pub and into the grimy street. There were no outdoor cafes, no smiles. Yet she still gazed around her in wonder. Snape remembered envying her as he watched her from his room. So easily enchanted.

Then he remembered the shock as the thugs approached her. He had remembered the words exactly.

“ ‘Ere, Miss, you’re one of the latest Mudbloods. D’you have any cash for us, dear?”

She had shaken her head, afraid but trying not to show it, and turned back for the door, which was blocked by one of the well built men.

He reacted almost exactly the same as he had done before. Wand out, he blasted the thugs. Last time, it had worked, and thanks to the lack of restrictions upon under-age magic, he had not been punished. This time, his curses passed through them like mist. He ran towards them, tried to push them away; but his hands passed through them.

“Do something!” he implored his companion, who merely shook the cowl that was covering their head.

“ This is what you wanted.”

“No! No. Not this!”

As he spoke, the men acted. They closed in around her and one made a lunge for her.

The scene changed abruptly.

They were back in the room. The windowless room in the Leaky Cauldron.

“Why are you doing this?”

“To show you what will be lost if you never exist.”

“You talk about it as if it’s a possibility.”

“It is not. But I aim to show you what the world would have lost had you not been in it, and then to go on to show what it will lose if you choose to remain absent from it.”

“Well then go onto what happens if I die now. Don’t put me through this!”

“Very well.”

The scene shifted once more . . .

“We move from definite realities – one way or the other, to possibilities based upon your decisions.”

“Okay.”

“But after I show you the home of the Potters”

“No. No! Don’t make me! You can’t make me!”

“I’m afraid this I must do.”

Snape was shaking and pale, hot tears running down his cold face. “No.”

“Yes. You must learn to see the consequences of your actions, and also– ”

“I know the consequences of my actions! Thanks to me, Lily Potter is dead. The only woman I ever loved. Dead. And Voldemort is unstoppable, thanks to me. And he will kill everyone and chaos will reign. Thanks to me!”

“ – and also that hope can be found everywhere.”

“What?”

Momentarily stunned, he was grabbed once again and transported to Godric’s Hollow.

The house was a smoking wreck. The house he had never seen, but often imagined her, living within. Voldemort always liked to show off, he thought bitterly. How could hope ever be found here?

“Why are you doing this? Why?”

“Sssh. Listen.”

He was quiet, eyes burning, throat tight as he sobbed silently for his one love. Then he heard it. An echoing cry, emnating from the small corner of the first floor that remained high.

“The child?” he breathed.

“Yes. Voldemort was unable to kill him. Voldemort is gone, for now at least, and the wizarding world will live in peace for twelve years. You could even argue that it is thanks to– ”

“Don’t even say that! You cannot link Lily’s death and the fact he is gone – though only temporarily, and say that they at all compare to each other.”

“Selfish.”

“No! I watched her love him, always friendly with me. Always friends. Until she stood up for me against him, and I foolishly decided that her pity was unwanted.”

“Not selfish then, obsessed. Consumed.”

“Consumed, yes. Obsessed, but not possessively so. I wanted only for her to be happy.”

“And this is why, the moment that you felt she could be threatened, you went to Dumbledore.”

“Yes.”

“And if you are lost now, through your self pity, what will her death have been for? The Order will have no inkling of the Death Eater’s plans. Even if they manage to get another spy in they will not be as effective as you. Never could they be in such a unique position as you. Expert Legilimens and Occlumens, better than Voldemort himself, teacher at the school, able to keep an eye on the child, and willing to do anything to make sure her death is avenged. If you leave it all now you are a coward, like James branded you.”

“I am not a coward!”

“Prove it.”

“I will.”

He apparated up to the ledge upon which the baby sat, crying. He could see James’ broken body at the entrance. He had obviously tried to hold him off so that Lily could make an escape. Snape had hated James with a passion – but he knew that he had loved Lily as much as he, Severus, did.

He looked around frantically. Where was Lily? Perhaps – but no. He saw her on the floor below him. She had been threatened again, and this time he could not save her. She was gone. He didn’t think as he jumped down to her. He did not notice the hooded figure soften his flight with her wand so that he landed lightly on his feet, like a cat. Lily’s eyes were closed, and her face was tranquil. She looked the same as he had seen her last. He stood over her, and his tears spattered onto her clothes, making small craters in the blackened dirt that had settled upon her in the aftermath of the explosion – not from Voldemort’s wish to make a mark, but from the boy’s resistance. Harry, he knew. He bent down towards her, and gave her the one thing he had never given to anyone before. He would have given his life for her, but now all he could offer was this farewell kiss, as insubstantial as the wind as his smoky lips brushed her ones, still warm.

This dimension he was in was strange. He could feel but not influence. Yet the marks from his tears still remained on her.

“What happens if I live? Is her death avenged?” he called.

“Yes. If you are strong, I’ve heard, though only if you do not waver.”

“Then I shall live, for her. And Voldemort will die, for her.”

He stroked her paling cheek, and stood, unfolding slowly, as if he had aged suddenly.

“Thankyou. Whoever you are.”

“You will meet me later. But be sure to mention this to Dumbledore, and tell him to look out for me, and tell me what to do. Otherwise he will never do it in time. And all will be lost. Tell him it will be obvious when my lessons in time begin.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Are you a future pupil?”

“Yes, well observed”

“How far in the future?”

“I can’t tell you that. Thankyou. I understand so much more now.”

“Are you from after the fall of Voldemort?”

She did not say anything. Her cowl shook slightly.

“Is that a no?”

She did not move.

“You have to remember to tell Dumbledore. Promise me.”

“If I don’t tell him, then– ”

“Then he will not know to send me.”

“A paradox?”

“Yes, but he has other theories. That you were subconsciously reaching out for some reason to live, and called upon me, only making it possible after the event.”

“Ah. Do you understand him?”

“If I don’t think about it too much.”

He gave a soft snort. Yes. He thought he must be rather good friends with this pupil, in the future.

“What is your name?”

“Sorry. I have to go, now. I just have time to transport you back to your room.”

“What dimension did you put us in?”

“I used the Headmaster’s abilities, just for tonight. I used memories of things past, things that are, and things that will be, could be, or could have been. You cannot have any impact upon these worlds, and nor can you feel anything as solid within them.”

“But Lily. . .”

“I don’t know if anything happened, but strong emotional feelings can often break through the barriers, in a small way.”

“Take me back, please,” he said wearily.

“Yes,” she replied, grasping his arm again.

Hermione returned back to Dumbledore, removed the heavy cloak, and the charm altering her voice, and the spell that increased her height, and then sat in the office, shaking as the tears ran down her face. To think that without Snape so much could have been different. And to know, from Dumbledore, conclusively, for he had heard all the prophecies to hear, and seen for himself through his magic, just what her encounter with Snape would do. She did not know much, but she did know that Voldemort would die, as a result of Snape living.

And he would never know it had been her. She stood and left the room, going to her bedroom. Dumbledore had said he would give her privacy, not seeing her until he met with her again.

“Miss Granger, kindly explain why you are out so late. It is well past curfew.”

Damn the wretched, unreliable time turner. She was only half an hour late.

“I was seeing Professor Dumbledore. You can talk to him about it, Professor.”

She could not look at him. It was hard, knowing what she did. She hoped that she would have had time to prepare herself.

“You look unwell. What were you discussing?”

“That is between me and him. I’m sorry, Professor.”

“Very well. But I will discuss this encounter with him, so if you are lying it is best to admit to it now.”

“I am not lying, professor.”

“Well then, you should be getting to bed, Miss Granger.”

“Good night, Professor.”

She walked on by him to the common room.

Snape looked after the sixth year girl, frowning. There was something wrong. Something, something. And he knew it was something that he should know. His mouth fell open. He had seen the cloak that she was carrying before. In a dream. He needed to talk to her. Thank her, again, though to her it would have been minutes since he last did so.

“Miss Granger!”

A/N: This is a one-shot. But I may be persuaded to write more. If you need me to. The only way you can tell me if you liked it or never want to see me near a computer again? REVIEW!!!

Erisedvision139

xx