Second Chances

Chapter 1

Severus had long accepted his own death. For years, he had come to terms with the inevitability of dying at an early age. He had accepted it a long time ago, when he decided to become a spy for Albus. He wasn’t overly fond of the thought of dying, as he at least wanted to find love, or finish his research, but he couldn’t help but feel as if it was meant to be. The only thing he regret to most was his inability to protect those he held dear.

He couldn't shield his mother from his father's cruelty, he hadn’t  done anything to help his friends, and most importantly, he failed to protect Lily's son. Although that was courtesy of Albus manipulation but he still regretted being mean to the kid. He definitely wasn’t like his father.

If only he had seized the opportunities to eliminate Voldemort and Albus, perhaps they all could have enjoyed longer and happier lives.

As he lay there, drenched in his own blood, courtesy of Nagini's venomous bite, an eerie sense of tranquility washed over him. He hoped he would be reunited with his mother in the afterlife. With heavy eyelids, he blinked once, then twice, until darkness enveloped him.

"It's strange," he mused. He shouldn't be hearing birds chirping; after all, he was dead.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and found himself in a strangely familiar bedroom. The mattress, though a bit tattered, offered unexpected comfort. As he roused from his slumber, he sat up and surveyed the room.

A gasp escaped his lips when he recognized this bedroom—it was impossible to forget; it was his childhood room in Spinner's End.

How was this possible? Had he somehow cheated death? Severus pondered, moving his hands to brush a stray hair from his face. However, as he got a glimpse of his hand, he couldn't help but freeze. His hands were oddly small, almost childlike. What was happening? he panicked. He stared at his hands in disbelief for a moment, trying to take deep breaths as to not succumb to a panic attack. But suddenly a knock at the door snapped him back to reality.

"Severus, honey, it's time to get up," came the familiar voice.

Severus gasps and let out a shaky breath as he recognized that voice, a voice he could never forget—the sweet, gentle tone of his mother. He took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself.

"Yes, Mother, I'll be down in a few minutes," he replied, his voice quivering slightly under the weight of his emotions.

Drawing another deep breath, he glanced around the room. It remained the same from how remembered it. With determination, he swung his little legs over the edge of the bed and hurried into the bathroom. There, he stood in front of a dirty and grimy mirror that barely showed his reflection. Yet, it was undeniably him, albeit in his younger form. He couldn't quite pinpoint his exact age, but he estimated himself to be around 8 or 9 years old.

He let out a shuddering breath, his mind swirling with questions. What was this? What kind of punishment had befallen him? How could the gods forsake him like this? Was he here to be tormented by the relentless replay of his past mistakes? All of these questions buzzed in his mind like an angry bee.

An angry huff escaped him; he had no desire to revisit his past. He yearned piece, for his eternal slumber not this! He wanted to rest and to forget all of his mistakes. He longed to elude the ever-watchful eyes of both Voldemort and Albus.

As he glanced around, he realized that he was kneeling on the cold, unforgiving bathroom floor with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Taking a deep breath he rose to his feet and gazed at himself in the mirror once again. He found his own reflection quite repulsive, he grimace. Severus recalled his impoverished childhood all too vividly. Back then, they couldn't spare money for hygiene products and it would probably be the same now. His hair, which had been a target of ridicule during his Hogwarts days, was a little less greasy, but somewhat stiff, likely from the pollution. Spinner's End was situated close to the industrial factories after all. His skin sported a sickly, grayish hue. The only thing somewhat redeemable was his teeth, the healthiest and whitest feature he possessed. He let out a sigh, fully aware of how utterly unattractive he looked. He had a pretty good inkling as to why he was a target by bullies. Firstly, he looked like this, and secondly, he was friends with Lily. By being her friend, he had unwittingly landed himself on James Potter's radar.

Contrary to the rumors, he wasn't in love with Lily. She was his best friend, plain and simple. However, thanks to James and his gang spreading rumors, the whole school thought he had feelings for Lily. Even Lily started to believe it, which he noticed as she distanced herself more and more, until that fateful day when he called her that word.

After they graduated, he often pondered about their friendship. Looking back, he realized it had been somewhat one-sided with only him making an effort for their friendship. It had been great for the first few years they have known each other, but that was likely because she needed him. But as time passes on and she made new and better friends, he found himself slowly being casted aside.

Did he think Lily was a bad person? No, he didn't. Did he think Lily was a bad friend? No, but she wasn't a great friend. Did he still want to be friends with her? No, not really. It wasn't worth all the trouble.

Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers through his hair, wincing at how stiff and tangled it was. If, by some miracle, he had been granted a chance to relive his life, all he wanted was a peaceful one. Away from Lily, away from the Marauders, and especially far away from Voldemort and Albus.

Severus drew a deep breath to steady himself; he had to get ready because his mother was waiting downstairs and he has to plan.

The mere thought of seeing his mother filled him with an overwhelming sense of joy. The last time he had seen her was during his fifth year, and she had been in a coffin. He took another deep breath, trying to rein in his emotions. He didn't want to cry when he sees her.

After washing his face with what little soap he had and brushing his teeth. At least there was enough toothpaste to last him a few days. Exiting the bathroom, he donned a shirt and trousers that boasted more patches than the actual fabric.

Summoning his courage with one last deep breath, he ventured downstairs, being extra cautious not to step on any creaky floorboards, just in case his father was here.

Upon entering the kitchen, he spotted his mother, looking as beautiful as he remembered her. She was humming a soft tune as she chopped vegetables for lunch.

His heart ached with longing; he had missed his mother, she was the only one who had ever loved him. He took another deep breath, determined not to cry.

"Good morning, Mother," he greeted, his voice wavering slightly.

Eileen turned toward him and smiled tenderly, a sight that made his burst into tears.

As he cried, he felt arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a warm, slender embrace.

"Shh, my little prince, don’t cry what’s wrong," she asked softly.

He had missed his mother's warm embrace. The lingering cold feeling he often felt the one that seeps into you bones making it ache, seemed to vanish, and he couldn't help but think that this was real. He had somehow returned to his younger self's body, and this time, he was determined to make better choices and maybe save the people he loves.

After a few more minutes of crying and his mother offering soothing words, he began to feel somewhat improved yet also a tad embarrassed. He hadn't cried like that since he was a child, but oddly, it had been somewhat cathartic.

"What's troubling you, my dear?" she inquired, her fingers gently lifting his chin, urging him to meet her loving gaze.

"I..." he sniffled, realizing he couldn't really tell her the truth. That he somehow time travelled. Knowing she wouldn't believe him. Then, his gaze drifted to the bruised handprint around her neck.

"How can you let him hurt you like that?" he whimpered, concern etching his voice.

His mother attempted to hide the handprint bruise but failed miserably. "I..." she began, struggling to find words and instead looking away in shame.

"One day, he's going to kill you, and then I'll be left alone with him. Why do you still love him?" he asked with a heavy heart.

"I... I don't, but I can't..." She stammered, her voice trembling.

It was painful to witness his mother attempting to justify her choices. He couldn't help but wonder if she had ever truly loved him.

"Do you love me?" Severus asked, his voice tinged with sadness.

"Of course, I love you," she desperately asserted.

"Then why!," he screamed making her flinch. He felt guilty screaming at her but seeing the bruise around her neck made him think of that day he came back from his 5th year at Hogwarts. She had that same hand print bruise around her neck.

Overwhelmed by emotions  he didn't even wait for her response as he ran out of the door leaving her kneeling on the floor. This whole idea of reliving his life seemed like a terrible mistake. Whoever thought it was a good idea had been utterly mistaken.

He stepped outside of their old, dilapidated home and surveyed the familiar street. It was the same as he remembered still impoverished, aged, and lined with homes on the verge of collapse.

With a sigh, he began walking towards his favorite spot, a wooded area near their house. He used to seek refuge here when his father was in one of his moods. Today, he would he was determine to spend the day there and plan for the future. Maybe forage some edible plants and berries.