Frolic
patreon
Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2025-06-17 15:00:00 +0000 UTCThe coppery tang of blood filled the air of the Shrieking Shack, a metallic smell that hung heavy as the life drained from Severus Snape. His body lay broken on the weathered floorboards, throat ravaged by Nagini's fangs. Each shallow breath gurgled wetly through the wound, a countdown to the inevitable.
Harry Potter stood frozen, watching the man he'd hated for years clutch desperately at his ruined neck. Blood seeped between Snape's fingers, dark and relentless. The Potions Master's normally rigid control had abandoned him; his limbs twitched and his face contorted in agony.
Something silvery blue, neither gas nor liquid, began to leak from Snape's ears, his mouth, his eyes. Memories. With trembling hands, he grasped Harry's robes, pulling the boy closer.
"Take... it..." Snape rasped. His voice, once capable of silencing an entire classroom with a whisper, now struggled to form words.
Harry conjured a flask from thin air, collecting the ethereal substance as it flowed from the dying man. The silver threads of memory swirled inside the glass, precious and fleeting as the life that produced them.
Snape's breathing grew more labored. His dark eyes, usually impenetrable, now held a wild desperation. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading across the dusty floor in a crimson halo.
"Look... at... me..."
The command came with surprising strength. Harry leaned closer, his green eyes meeting Snape's black ones.
For Severus, the world contracted to those eyes. Lily's eyes. The same shape, the same brilliant emerald that had captivated him since childhood. In them, he found everything, his greatest joy, his deepest regret, the love that had defined and destroyed him.
The pain in his throat receded as he focused on that green. Blood no longer mattered. The boy's face blurred around those eyes. Severus felt his heartbeat falter, skipping beats, growing fainter. Each pulse pushed less blood through his failing body.
His mind, always so disciplined, began to fragment. Memories flashed behind his eyes, Lily laughing by the river, her hair aflame in sunlight. Her hand in his as they boarded the Hogwarts Express. The devastation on her face when he'd called her "Mudblood." The years of emptiness after her death.
"Lily, " he thought, unable to speak her name aloud. His fingers lost their grip on Harry's robes and fell limp to the floor.
The green eyes above him seemed to grow brighter as everything else dimmed. His vision narrowed to pinpoints of emerald light, twin stars in an expanding darkness.
His final exhale rattled through the torn flesh of his throat. The pain that had been his constant companion, physical, emotional, spiritual, began to lift. Severus felt weightless, untethered.
The last thing he perceived was green. Not just the color, but everything it had ever meant to him, spring leaves, hope, forgiveness, and most of all, her eyes. Then even that faded.
Silence.
Darkness.
And then... white.
Pure, blinding white surrounded him. Not the harsh glare of hospital lights or the cold brilliance of winter snow, but a gentle, enveloping luminescence that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
Severus blinked, or thought he did. He no longer felt certain about the mechanics of his body. The white began to take shape, resolving into something recognizable. A platform. Clean, empty benches. Arched ceilings that vanished into mist.
King's Cross Station, yet not. The usual chaos of travelers was absent. No trains rumbled, no whistles blew. The station stood in perfect, pristine silence.
Severus looked down. His body appeared whole, unmarked. The tattered, blood-soaked robes were gone, replaced by simple, clean clothing. He raised a hand to his throat and found smooth, unbroken skin where moments before Nagini's fangs had torn him open.
"Severus."
The voice came from behind him, soft and achingly familiar. A voice he'd heard only in dreams and memories for seventeen years.
He turned slowly, afraid that the sound might dissolve if acknowledged too quickly. There, standing a few paces away, was Eileen Prince. Not the beaten-down woman of his childhood, but straight-backed and clear-eyed, younger than he remembered.
"Mother?" The word felt strange on his lips.
She smiled, a genuine expression he'd rarely seen in life. "My boy. My brave, foolish boy."
"I'm dead, " Severus stated. Not a question.
"Yes." Eileen approached him, her footsteps making no sound on the gleaming floor. "And no. You're at the crossroads."
"Crossroads?"
"Between what was and what could be." She gestured to the empty station around them. "Most souls pass straight through. Some linger to make peace. Others..." Her dark eyes, so like his own, held his gaze. "Others get a choice."
Severus felt something unfamiliar bloom in his chest. Not hope, he'd abandoned that emotion long ago, but something adjacent to it. A possibility.
"What choice?"
Eileen reached out, her hand hovering near his face but not quite touching. "The choice to try again. To remember, to know, to change."
The white light around them pulsed, as if responding to her words.
"I don't understand, " Severus whispered, though part of him, some deep, intuitive part, did understand, and trembled at the implication.
"You will, " Eileen promised. The whiteness grew more intense, surrounding them both. "The question isn't whether you understand, Severus. The question is: what will you do with a second chance?"
The light became absolute, erasing everything, the station, Eileen, even Severus himself, until nothing existed but pure, limitless white.
Snape closed his eyes against the brightness, and thought of green.
"I choose, " The words caught in his throat. Peace beckoned, promising an end to pain, to regret, to the constant weight of his failures. But green eyes haunted him still. "I choose to go back."
A sound like rushing wind filled the whiteness. His mother's face blurred, her smile the last thing he saw before the light consumed everything.
"Be brave, my son, " her voice whispered, fading into the roar. "Be free."
The whiteness collapsed around him, compressing into a single point of light, then exploding outward. Snape felt himself falling, spinning, being unmade and remade. His consciousness stretched like taffy, then snapped back with brutal force.
Impact.
Cold marble pressed against his cheek. Snape's eyes fluttered open to find himself sprawled on a white stone floor. The brightness remained, but different now, diffuse, foggy, with substance and shadow. He blinked, vision adjusting to the strange half-light.
His body felt wrong. Lighter. Smaller. His hands, splayed before him on the marble, were unmarked by decades of potion-making. No calluses, no acid burns, no Dark Mark etched into his forearm. A child's hands.
Snape pushed himself upright, limbs moving with unfamiliar coordination. His robes hung loosely on his diminished frame. When he touched his face, he found smooth skin where lines of bitterness and exhaustion had once been carved.
"What is this?" His voice cracked, high and thin, a boy's voice.
He stood, wobbling slightly. The sound of his footsteps echoed across the vast, empty space. Gradually, shapes emerged from the mist: soaring arches, gleaming pillars, the suggestion of benches. A train station, pristine and abandoned.
King's Cross, but not. A dream of a station. The architecture was familiar, but stripped of grime and crowds, transformed into something ethereal. No trains waited at the platforms. No tracks ran beneath the arches. Just endless white marble stretching into fog.
Snape turned slowly, taking in the impossible space. "Is this death after all?" he called out, his child's voice bouncing back at him. "Some final trick?"
A distant whistle sounded, mournful and strange, coming from everywhere and nowhere.
Memory flooded back, his choice, his mother's face, the promise of return. Had it been a lie? Was this limbo to be his eternity?
Panic clawed at his throat. He'd given up peace for this? An empty station with no destination?
"Hello?" he called, voice breaking. "Is anyone, "
His words died as he spotted movement in the mist. A figure approached from the far end of the platform, its outline blurred and indistinct. Tall and slender, moving with deliberate grace.
Snape froze, heart hammering in his child's chest. Not his mother this time. The silhouette was wrong.
The figure drew closer, features resolving through the fog. A woman with dark red hair flowing past her shoulders. Green eyes that seemed to glow in the strange light.
"Lily?" he whispered, the name torn from him like a wound reopening.
But as the figure emerged fully from the mist, he saw it wasn't Lily Evans at all. This woman was older, with lines at the corners of her eyes and silver threading through the auburn. Her face held a dignity Lily had never lived long enough to acquire. She wore flowing robes of deepest emerald that whispered against the marble floor.
"Not quite, " the woman said, her voice achingly familiar yet different, deeper, steadier. "Though I was, once."
Snape stared, uncomprehending. "I don't understand."
The woman's smile held a lifetime of secrets. "Time is fluid here, Severus. I am what Lily Evans might have become. What she will become, if you succeed."
"Succeed at what?" His child's voice sounded small in the vast space.
"At living, " she said simply. "At choosing differently."
She gestured around them at the ghostly station. "This place exists between moments. Between lives. Between choices."
Snape looked down at his diminished body, understanding slowly dawning. "I'm going back. Truly back."
"To your eleventh summer, " the woman confirmed. "The precipice of everything. Old enough to understand, young enough to change."
"Why?" The question burst from him, raw with decades of pain. "Why offer this to me? I failed her, you, everyone."
The woman who might be Lily stepped closer, green eyes searching his face. "Because everyone deserves a second chance, Severus. Even you. Especially you."
"I don't know how to be different, " he admitted, voice cracking. "I've only ever known how to be... me."
"That's the beauty of it, " she said softly. "You'll remember everything. Every mistake. Every consequence. Every regret. Knowledge is your gift, and your burden."
Snape closed his eyes, overwhelmed. To return with all his memories intact. To relive his life knowing what awaited down each path. The possibilities unfolded before him like endless branching tracks.
"The train will arrive soon, " the woman said, glancing toward the misty void where tracks should be. "It will take you back to the moment before everything changed."
"And if I fail again?" he asked, the old bitterness seeping into his child's voice.
Her expression softened. "Then you fail as someone who tried. Not as someone who surrendered to fate."
The whistle sounded again, closer now. Somewhere in the distance, metal wheels ground against invisible rails.
"Will I remember this?" Snape asked, gesturing between them. "This conversation?"
"For a time, " she said. "Like a dream that lingers after waking. It will fade, but the purpose will remain."
The rumble of an approaching train grew louder. Wind stirred the mist, sending it swirling around their feet.
"I'm afraid, " Snape admitted, the confession easier from a child's lips than it ever would have been from the man he'd become.
The woman who might be Lily smiled. "Good. Fear means you understand the stakes." She reached out, hesitated, then gently touched his cheek. "Use it. Learn from it. But don't let it rule you again."
The invisible train drew closer, its presence felt rather than seen. The platform beneath them trembled.
"It's time, " she said, withdrawing her hand. "Remember, Severus: the path you walked before is not the only one available."
She began to step back, her form growing indistinct at the edges, merging with the mist.
"Wait!" Snape called out, reaching toward her retreating figure. "Will I see you again? The real you?"
Her smile was the last thing to fade. "That depends entirely on you."
The rumble became a roar. The white marble beneath Snape's feet vibrated with imminent arrival. The mist swirled violently, obscuring everything.
A shadow moved within the fog, massive and approaching fast. Not the woman returning, but something else. Something coming for him.
"Severus, " a new voice called, different from the woman's, yet somehow familiar. "Severus, it's time to wake up."
The train's whistle pierced the fog once more, calling him to decision.
Snape's heart hammered in his chest, a child's heart beating with an old man's fear. The rumble beneath his feet intensified. Choose, it seemed to say. Choose now.
"I need, " His voice cracked. "I need to understand what I'm choosing."
Eileen's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Then come, " she said, turning him away from the approaching train. "Let me show you."
She guided him forward, away from the platform, into the swirling mist. The marble floor beneath their feet gave way to something less substantial, neither solid nor vapor, but something in between. Each step took them deeper into the whiteness until the station disappeared entirely behind them.
"Where are we going?" Snape asked, his child's voice thin with uncertainty.
"Nowhere, " Eileen answered. "Everywhere. The corridors of your mind."
The fog around them shifted, thickening in places, thinning in others. Shapes began to form in the mist, vague at first, then solidifying into recognizable scenes. The whiteness became a corridor of memory, stretching endlessly before them.
"Look, " Eileen said, pointing to their right.
The mist parted like a curtain, revealing a sunlit riverbank. Two children sat side by side on the grassy shore, a thin, sallow boy with lank black hair and a vibrant girl with flowing red locks. The girl held her palm open, a small flower blooming and closing, blooming and closing.
"You know magic too?" the memory-Lily asked, green eyes wide with wonder.
The memory-Snape nodded, leaning closer to her. "I'm a wizard. And you're a witch."
Beside him, Eileen watched the scene with a gentle smile. "You were happy then."
"I was, " Snape admitted, his throat tight. "For a little while."
The memory dissolved, swirling back into mist. They continued walking, their footsteps making no sound on the insubstantial floor.
Another scene formed to their left, older now, the same children in black Hogwarts robes. Lily smiled up at him, her green eyes bright with excitement.
"We'll still be friends, right?" memory-Lily asked. "Even in different houses?"
"Always, " memory-Snape promised, his young face earnest.
The real Snape turned away, unable to watch. "Enough. I remember."
"Memory is painful, " Eileen acknowledged. "But necessary."
They walked on. The fog shifted again, darkening slightly. A new scene crystallized before them, a corridor at Hogwarts, crowded with students. Memory-Snape hung upside down, robes falling over his head, revealing skinny legs and shabby underwear. James Potter and Sirius Black stood below, wands raised, laughing. A crowd gathered, pointing and jeering.
Memory-Lily pushed through the crowd. "Leave him ALONE!"
Memory-Snape's face contorted with humiliation and rage as Potter lowered him. The words that followed seemed to echo through the misty corridor:
"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"
The real Snape flinched as if struck. The shock and hurt on memory-Lily's face pierced him anew, as fresh as the day it happened.
"Stop, " he whispered. "Please."
But the memories continued unfolding. A teenage Snape kneeling before a pale figure with crimson eyes. The Dark Mark burning black against his forearm. Hooded figures in a circle, masks gleaming in torchlight.
"I wanted power, " Snape said, watching his younger self bow before Voldemort. "Respect. Revenge."
"And did you find it?" Eileen asked quietly.
The scene shifted before he could answer. A hilltop at night, wind whipping his robes. Dumbledore standing before him, face grave as a desperate Snape begged:
"Hide them all, then. Keep her, them, safe. Please."
"What will you give me in return, Severus?"
"Anything."
Snape's legs trembled beneath him. "I was too late, " he whispered. "Always too late."
The fog darkened further, nearly black now. A new scene formed, a ruined cottage in Godric's Hollow. Memory-Snape stumbled up the stairs, following a trail of destruction. He entered the nursery, where a baby wailed in his crib.
And there on the floor,
Snape tried to turn away, but Eileen held him steady. "Watch, " she commanded gently. "Remember."
Memory-Snape fell to his knees beside Lily's body. Her green eyes, once so bright with life, stared sightlessly at the ceiling. He gathered her into his arms, rocking back and forth, his face contorted in silent agony.
The real Snape's knees gave way. He sank to the insubstantial floor, a sob tearing from his throat, a child's sob, raw and unrestrained. "I failed her, " he choked out. "I killed her."
"Yes, " Eileen said, kneeling beside him. "Your choices led there. But not yours alone."
The scene dissolved, replaced by flashes of the life that followed: Snape in the dungeons, face closed and bitter. Snape sneering at a small boy with a lightning scar. Snape with his sleeve pushed back, the Dark Mark returning to life. Snape killing Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower. Snape watching silently as students were tortured under the Carrows' regime.
And finally, the Shrieking Shack. Nagini's fangs tearing into his throat. Potter leaning over him, collecting the memories spilling from his eyes.
"Look... at me..." memory-Snape gasped.
The green eyes, Lily's eyes in her son's face, were the last thing he saw before darkness claimed him.
The real Snape covered his face with small hands, shoulders shaking. "I was too late, " he repeated, voice breaking. "Always too late. Too late to save her. Too late to save myself. Too late to make amends."
Eileen placed a gentle hand on his back. "And that is precisely why you're being offered a second chance."
He looked up at her through tear-blurred eyes. "What difference would it make? The prophecy, the Dark Lord, Potter, it's all fixed. Fated."
"Is it?" Eileen's dark eyes held his. "Or is that what you tell yourself to avoid responsibility for your choices?"
The question struck him like a physical blow. "I don't, "
"You cannot erase pain, " she continued, her voice firm but kind. "But you can meet it sooner. Choose better. The path you walked before is not the only one available."
Snape wiped roughly at his eyes. "You sound like her. The woman who looked like Lily."
"Perhaps we both speak truth, then." Eileen stood, offering her hand. "Come. There's more to see."
Reluctantly, he took her hand and rose. The fog around them had lightened, shifting from black to gray. They continued down the misty corridor, leaving the painful memories behind.
"What else is there to see?" Snape asked, voice hoarse from crying. "I've relived my failures. What more do you want from me?"
"Not what was, " Eileen said. "What could be."
The mist before them shimmered, different from the previous memories. These images were less substantial, more like reflections on water: A young Snape refusing to join his Slytherin housemates in tormenting Muggle-borns. Snape and Lily studying together, their friendship intact. Snape standing beside Lily at her wedding, not to James Potter, but to him.
"These aren't memories, " Snape said, staring at the impossible scenes. "These never happened."
"They could have, " Eileen replied. "They still might, if you choose differently."
The shimmering possibilities continued: Snape brewing potions in a sunlit laboratory. Snape teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts to attentive students. Snape walking with a red-haired woman beside a river, their hands intertwined.
"You're showing me fantasies, " he accused. "Impossible dreams."
"I'm showing you possibilities, " Eileen corrected. "Branches on a tree you never climbed."
The mist swirled, the images fading. "The future is unwritten, Severus. Even when you return with knowledge of what was, you cannot simply replay your life with different lines. Others will respond to your changes. New challenges will arise."
Snape frowned. "Then what's the point? If I can't guarantee a better outcome, "
"The point is choice, " Eileen interrupted. "The chance to choose with open eyes, rather than blinded by ignorance and fear."
The train whistle sounded again, closer now, echoing through the misty corridor.
"Time grows short, " Eileen said. "The train approaches. You must decide."
Snape closed his eyes, the weight of decision pressing down on him. To go forward into death's unknown peace. Or backward into life's known pain, armed with memory and the slim chance of redemption.
"If I go back, " he said slowly, "will I be strong enough to change? To choose differently when it matters?"
Eileen's expression softened. "I don't know. That's the risk of living. But I believe you have the capacity for courage you never fully used."
The mist around them began to thin, the corridor fading. King's Cross station reappeared, the platform now vibrating with the approach of an unseen train.
"I was too late, " Snape said one last time, staring into the swirling fog where the train would emerge. "Always too late."
Eileen squeezed his hand. "Then be earlier this time."
The train's whistle pierced the air, final and demanding. The decision could no longer be delayed.
Severus Snape stood at the threshold between what was and what could be, the accumulated weight of his first life balanced against the uncertain promise of a second chance. The misty platform of King's Cross trembled beneath his feet as the unseen train approached, demanding his decision. Forward into death's embrace or backward into life's crucible, both paths stretched before him, equally terrifying in their own ways.
The fog around them began to shift, the cold white mist warming to a golden hue that reminded him of sunlight filtering through autumn leaves. It swirled around his small form, almost caressing, as if the very fabric of this between-place responded to the moment of choice.
"What will you choose?" Eileen asked, her voice soft yet clear above the approaching rumble.
Snape looked down at his hands, a child's hands, unmarked by potions or Dark Magic, untouched by the years of bitterness that had twisted his soul. These hands had once reached for Lily Evans in friendship. These hands had once created rather than destroyed.
"I don't deserve this, " he whispered, curling his fingers into fists. "A second chance."
"Perhaps not, " Eileen acknowledged. "But you have it nonetheless. The question is: what will you do with it?"
The golden fog thickened, glowing with an inner light that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. In its swirling depths, he caught glimpses of possibilities, paths untaken, choices unmade. Lily's face appeared and dissolved a dozen times, sometimes smiling, sometimes weeping, always watching.
Lily. Always Lily.
But something had changed in the way he thought of her now. Standing in this place between worlds, the obsessive need that had driven him for decades felt... different. Clearer. As if death had burned away some toxin from his system, leaving behind something purer.
"I loved her, " he said, the words falling from his lips like stones into still water. "But I never truly saw her, did I? I wanted to possess her. To keep her. To make her mine."
Eileen said nothing, but her dark eyes, so like his own, held understanding beyond words.
"If I go back, " Snape continued, his child's voice strengthening, "it can't be for that. It can't be to claim her or control her path. It would just be another form of selfishness."
The golden light around them intensified, casting Eileen's face in warm radiance. She looked more substantial now, more real than she had in the sterile whiteness before.
"Then why would you go back, Severus?" she asked, her question gentle but probing. "If not for her?"
Snape closed his eyes, searching for truth within himself, perhaps for the first time without self-deception or justification. The answer came slowly, rising from depths he hadn't known existed.
"For the chance to be the person she saw in me, " he said finally. "The person I might have been, before fear and pride poisoned everything."
The approaching train's whistle sounded again, closer now, urgent.
"I want to go back, " Snape said, opening his eyes to meet his mother's gaze. "Not to change the past, but to make it mean something. To find out if there's more to Severus Snape than bitterness and regret."
A smile broke across Eileen's face, radiant and fierce, unlike any expression he'd seen on her in life. She reached out, placing both hands on his shoulders.
"My brave boy, " she whispered, bending to press her lips against his forehead. The kiss burned like a brand, not painful but cleansing. "Then your journey begins again."
The golden light around them pulsed once, twice, then exploded outward in a silent wave. The platform beneath them dissolved. Eileen's form began to fade, her outline blurring into the brilliance.
"Will I remember you?" Snape called out, reaching for her vanishing form. "Will I remember any of this?"
Her voice came from everywhere and nowhere, already distant: "The mind may forget, but the soul remembers. Choose better this time, my son."
The light became blinding, consuming everything. Snape felt himself falling, spinning, being unmade and remade. Somewhere in the golden void, he heard the distinctive chug of the Hogwarts Express growing louder, calling him back to a beginning he'd long forgotten.
His consciousness stretched like taffy, then snapped back with brutal force. The golden light collapsed into darkness, absolute and complete.
Then,
A gasp tore from his throat as his eyes flew open. Disoriented, Snape blinked rapidly, his vision adjusting to the sudden shift. He was sitting upright, his small body wedged into the corner of a train compartment. Outside the window, green countryside blurred past. The rhythmic clacking of wheels on tracks filled his ears.
The Hogwarts Express. But how, ?
Memory flooded back in fragments: King's Cross station, his mother's face, the choice he'd made. Had it been real, or merely a dream at the moment of death? Before he could make sense of it, the compartment door slid open.
