The Path Not Taken

By: Katerinaki

Published: May 8th, 2016

Inspired by fan-art created by Lily-fox on Deviant Art

When one is dying, there are many things that pass through one's mind. Fear is nearly overwhelming. Even if dying is wanted, is asked for, fear is unavoidable as a small, overriding part of the mind questions everything you believe. What if it's all wrong? What if this truly is everything? If the fear somehow does not consume all brain function, then regrets surface. The mind will always choose to wander the path not taken, especially in the moment there is no hope to ever try.

Severus Snape had many regrets. He'd lived his life in regret and it seemed fitting that he went to his death with those regrets first in his mind. As he lay bleeding out on the floor of the Shrieking Shack with Nagini's venom burning through his veins, his greatest regret gurgled through the blood on his lips to linger over the sad, pathetic scene.

"…Lily…"

It was always Lily. It had always been Lily, from the moment he met her to the moment he lost her, to the moment he sealed her fate. Lily was always and would forever remain his biggest regret. All of him was consumed in his atonement and now, at last, he could sacrifice himself and his pitiful existence for her.

As Severus Snape closed his eyes for the last time, the fear could not reach him. Only his regret. Lily.

Death was quite comfortable. It was quiet, soft, and peaceful. Severus wasn't expecting that. He was sure only the deepest circle of Hell was for traitors the likes of him. But this, this was almost pleasant.

Until something poked him in the arm. He ignored it at first. It was much better to simply lay in peace than to try to open his eyes and determine what annoyed him. But it happened again. It wasn't particularly hard or annoying, just insistent, demanding his attention. He couldn't ignore it for all eternity, so he opened his eyes.

There, resting her elbows on the edge of a bed, was a little girl. She was perhaps five or six-years-old, but neither her presence nor her age was what shocked him. She had his eyes. Dark, brown eyes in a soft, round face with a fringe of fiery, red hair threatening to cover them over. She propped her chin on her hands and smiled gently at him.

"Are you awake?"

What a strange question to ask a dead man. Was he awake? Was this the afterlife or merely a hallucination brought on in the last moments of his life? Severus found himself reaching out for her, running his fingers through her soft hair. Not a ghost; he could feel the warmth of her skin and his fingers got tangled in a few knots.

"Yes," he murmured, his voice raspy, no doubt from the bite at his neck. He felt surprisingly strong, for a dying man. Maybe he was indeed already dead.

"Mummy says pancakes are ready."

She stared at him expectantly for a long time but Severus didn't know what to say.

"Alright," he said at last.

"Love you, Daddy." She crawled up and placed a kiss on his cheek before hopping off the bed and scurrying out the bedroom door. Severus didn't even have a chance to ask what she meant.

Daddy. That's what she called him. He knew then that all this was a hallucination. He was nobody's father, let alone a "Daddy". In all his years of bitter loneliness, he had made sure of that. Looking around the bedroom he was intrigued by how thorough this hallucination seemed. There, by his feet, slept a fluffy, white cat, the type Lily had always wanted though Severus thought it silly. He slept on the right side, but it seemed the other side was rumpled too, an indentation lingering on the pillow. On the far nightstand there was an alarm clock, a copy of Witch Weekly, and some sort of disfigured clay dish that was painted in garish red and green and held a few pieces of women's jewelry. "Mummy's", perhaps? His own nightstand held a plain lamp, a leather-bound book, and a single photo frame. As his eyes fell to the moving figures in the image, his heart squeezed in his chest and he choked on his own breath.

It was Lily. She stood, giggling in a resplendent white gown with a long veil trailing down her back and gathering around her feet. She looked like an angel from heaven. He'd seen it before as he'd crouched in the bushes and watched James Potter steal the only woman he'd ever loved, irrevocably from his grasp. He'd promptly gone to drown out the memory with fire whiskey, but of the things he'd done that night, that memory had always remained. Even now it was here, in his hallucination, taunting him.

Except, as his eyes fell to the groom the memory grew hazy, overlapped with something else. Instead of peering through the leaves, an uninvited guest to her happiness, she stood before him and smiled. Her emerald green eyes danced in joy and laughter. She reached out her hands and Severus from the memory took them, running his thumbs over her knuckles.

"I do," she told him.

There he stood with his arms wrapped around Lily's waist, dressed in black dress robes and smiling down at his wife. He remembered that day. He remembered the reception that went on far too long and their honeymoon in Greece that was far too short. He remembered all these things that never happened, even in his deepest, most self-indulgent dreams.

Uncertainly, Severus sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed. He felt, perhaps not good, but better than he typically felt these days. His joints were a bit stiff and there was still the ever-lingering pain in his lower back from leaning over a cauldron for hours on end, but many of the usual aches he'd grown so used to over the years were gone. His hand shot up to his neck, but the skin there was smooth with not even a thin scar from Nagini's bite.

It was all very confusing and surreal. Light-headed, Severus stood and padded on bare feet from the bedroom and down the stairs. Along the stairs were rows of family pictures. Severus recognized Lily's parents from a still, Muggle photo. Amazingly enough there was a wizarding photo of his own mother, standing with her hand on his shoulder on Platform 9 ¾, both of them frowning at the camera. Next was another photo of he and Lily, this one taken under the tree by the Black Lake at Hogwarts. It had been a favorite spot of theirs, although this picture was impossible. They were both clearly in their seventh year as they leaned over a Charms book, but Lily hadn't been speaking to him then. She had been dating Potter by that time, hadn't she?

The next photo was a Muggle one of a boy, perhaps nine or ten. He was dressed in a Muggle school uniform and seated in front of some vague blue background, grinning at the camera. At first glance, Severus was sure it was Potter with the black hair and same bottle-green eyes as Lily. But the features weren't right. The face was longer, the nose streamline. The boy's hair fell around his ears with a little curl at the end and he wasn't wearing glasses. Most of all, at Severus' eyes wandered up to the boy's forehead, it was the missing curse scar that told him this was not Harry Potter.

The next photo was of the little girl who'd woken him. She was grinning at the camera while cuddling the white fluffy cat from the bed. A name came to mind and the longer he watched the girl as she set the cat down and spun a little twirl, giggling, the more the name seemed right. Rose. Rosie with her family. She looked so much like her mother, but for her eyes. They were his mother's eyes. His eyes.

The white fluff ball scampered down the stairs, weaving through his legs, and nearly made him fall.

"Bloody cat!" he muttered, descending the last few steps and practically stumbling into the kitchen.

"Shay-shay! Be nice to Daddy!" Rosie scolded as Severus stepped into the bright, open kitchen. There was Rosie, crouching down to pet the damned cat. But his eyes immediately fell to a tumble of red curls and the woman who swayed to the music coming from the Wizarding Wireless on the counter as she flipped pancakes into a neat stack.

It was as if he'd been hit in the stomach with a bludger. All the air left his lungs in a rush and Severus didn't dare to breathe for fear the apparition standing before him would suddenly disappear. He stood frozen in the doorway, drinking in the sight of her, a sight he was certain he would never see again.

Lily.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was a bit shorter, he noticed. Even dressed in simple Muggle jeans and a blouse, she was gorgeous. She turned to the young boy who sat at the table already eating his own breakfast.

"Harry, love, can you see what's taking your father so—oh!" She spotted him lurking in the doorway and the morning Severus thought couldn't get any better, did.

"Good morning, sleepy-head!" She set the plate of pancakes on the table before walking over to stand on her toes and plant a kiss on his lips. Severus wasn't ready for it at all and Lily frowned as she looked up at him.

"What's wrong, Sev?"

'Absolutely nothing,' he wanted to say. But his mind was still catching up from the shock of it all. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"You look so beautiful," he murmured.

Lily slapped him on the arm but grinned nonetheless.

"None of that this morning, Mr. Snape," she scolded playfully. "You promised you would take Harry to Diagon Alley for his supplies before the party today."

Severus frowned. "What party?"

The boy from the picture, Harry, piped up from his seat at the table readily enough.

"My birthday party!"

The same part of him that told Severus Rosie's name reminded him that Harry turned eleven today.

"I would go with you, but Rosie and I have to stay and get the house ready, right?"

"Right!" Rosie replied excitedly. "I want to decorate the cake with blue unicorns!"

Harry groaned. "Mum, please don't let her!"

"Don't worry, Harry, everything will be fine," Lily assured her son. "And Rosie, remember it's Harry's birthday. Maybe we can do unicorns for your birthday in March."

Rosie frowned. "How long until March?"

"It's next year, sweetheart."

"But I don't want to wait a whole year! Daddy?"

Severus was not prepared as Rosie looked up at him with big, searching brown eyes, her lip quivering slightly. He wanted to say yes to whatever she needed, just so he didn't have to see such a heart-wrenching sight again.

But to Severus' relief, Lily jumped in before he could offer her every unicorn in the Forbidden Forest.

"Rose Eileen Snape, none of that," Lily scolded. "Come on, eat your breakfast before it's cold. Sev could you cut that for her?"

Again he was put on the spot and he froze. He had been a spy for years, he shouldn't be fumbling through whatever this was.

"Um, sure." He sat down in the chair next to Rosie's and began to cut the small stack of pancakes, automatically making even cuts like he was preparing potions ingredients. Rosie watched in fascination until he finished.

"Can I have syrup too?"

The idea of giving the little girl sugar was a terrifying one. But as she bats her eyelashes at him, there was simply no way for Severus to deny her. He took the bottle and poured syrup all over the plate.

"Sev, can you stop by the store when you're out and make sure the new shipment of hellebore is correct this time? Also we need more dittany for the house and Nightshade ate all the feathers off my quills so I'll need a few more."

"Sure," he replied, though he had no idea what "the store" was, or who Nightshade was and why he was eating feathers.

Harry crammed the last few pieces of pancake into his mouth all at once.

"I'm done," he declared through a full mouth. "Can we go?"

"Do not speak with your mouth full," Severus scolded automatically.

Harry swallowed hard. "Sorry, Dad," he replied, though he still downed his remaining pumpkin juice incredibly fast. "I'm ready to go."

"Then why don't you clean your plate and go make a list of which supplies you'll need for Hogwarts," Lily suggested as she took her seat beside him, across from Rosie.

"Yes, Mum," Harry replied, taking his empty plate to the sink. He'd scrubbed it and was gone up the stairs in an instant.

"He's very excited," Lily commented with amusement as she nursed a cup of coffee. Severus had to admit that even with the threat of his father's ire, he too had been thrilled on his first trip to Diagon Alley for his school supplies.

"You know Ron and Neville will want to spend the night after the party. I suspect Draco will too, though we'll have to see what Narcissa says. I don't mind if you're alright with it."

Frankly Severus wasn't sure he was alright with any of it. This perfect life that he seemed to be living was far too good to be true. He was sure at any moment the walls would crumble and it would all be lost. That would be true Hell, having a taste of happiness only for it to be ripped from his grasp for all eternity. Just the thought cut him like a knife.

He merely shrugged, not trusting his voice to be strong and sure.

Lily frowned as she peered at him over her cup of coffee.

"You're very quiet this morning, love," she murmured. She reached over and squeezed his forearm. Severus automatically flinched back. She'd touched his left arm, the one with the Dark Mark. Even in this strange dream world he couldn't bear the thought of beautiful, kind, and good Lily touching something so dark, evil, and ugly. His reaction hurt her. He could see it in her eyes, the eyes he was sure he'd never see again, and the words came tumbling out of his mouth.

"Lily, I'm sorry."

How he'd longed to say those words to her. I'm sorry for calling you a Mudblood. I'm sorry for betraying your trust. I'm sorry for ruining our friendship. I'm sorry for joining the Death Eaters and reporting the prophecy to the Dark Lord. I'm Sorry I couldn't save you and I'm sorry for not being able to save your son either. I'm sorry that even now in this perfect dream, I still disappoint you.

He wanted to tell her everything, of the Dark Lord and Harry Potter and dying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, only to wake in this strange place which could be Heaven, or could be Hell. But he couldn't tell her any of it. She would think him mad! He let go, running his hand nervously through his hair.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I just had a—"

Horrible death?

Disastrous life?

"A bad dream."

To his surprise, Lily got up, walked around the table, and draped her arms over his shoulders. She planted a kiss on his cheek, her fingers wandering over the thin material of his shirt. It was…extraordinarily distracting.

"Was it the war again?"

The war? Again? As they had upon seeing the wedding photo and those of Harry and Rosie, new memories washed over his own. It was as if his mind was a pensieve and someone kept dumping new memories, ones that belonged to someone else. This time between memories of Death Eater meetings and Muggle killings he sat in Order meetings with Lily across from a young James Potter and Sirius Black who were not trying to kill him. He remembered going to revels but he also remembered speaking to Lucius Malfoy in the shadows, convincing him that he would want to be on the winning side, in the end. He remembered revealing Peter Pettigrew for the rat he was and he remembered being there the day Voldemort was defeated, watching Dumbledore best the Dark Lord once and for all. It was so different from anything he'd experienced before, and yet he'd still been a spy. He remembered that, and he also remembered keeping his marriage with Lily a secret for fear of repercussions. Lily had hated the whole thing, but she'd understood. His Lily always seemed to understand.

"Yes, a little bit," he admitted. Part of it was the war, in a way.

"You did what had to be done. You know that, right?"

"I know." The words fell off his tongue as if they were the only reply to that question.

"You know, maybe Molly can take Harry and Rosie for a weekend and we could close up the shop early, have some time with just the two of us?"

A part of him became very interested in Lily's suggestion, and it certainly seemed to take his mind off…well anything else really. He was about to turn around when they heard footsteps on the stairs and Lily stepped away, taking their half-finished plates to the sink.

"Alright," Harry declared, bursting into the kitchen with his Hogwarts letter and a piece of muggle notebook paper in hand.

"I made a list. Can we go now? Why aren't you dressed yet?"

Lily laughed from where she was rinsing the dishes and Severus felt a strange, irresistible pull at the corner of his mouth. He wanted to smile. Not smirk, but genuinely smile at something that made him truly happy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this feeling. He'd never felt it for Potter.

'Not Potter,' he reminded himself as he looked at the boy before him. 'Snape.' Pride welled up in his chest. That was a new feeling too. He found that he wanted to go to Diagon Alley. He wanted to take his son, his son, to buy his robes and books and his first wand. As a Hogwarts Professor Severus had done his fair share of Muggle-born visits, though Dumbledore had preferred to send McGonagall or Sprout on those. But this wasn't simply walking yet another strange child through their first introduction to the Wizarding World. This was his child. Or at least, that's what the strange memories of this world told him.

"Let me get dressed and we'll go," he told the boy.

"Alright," Harry replied, though he fidgeted with the paper and parchment in hand, his patience hanging on a thread.

After the best shower of his life, or death, Severus checked his wardrobe and was actually surprised to see that he had just as much Muggle clothing as black Wizarding robes. At least those were mostly the same. He had no desire to wander through Muggle London and with no Muggle family in tow, he could Apparate right into the Leaky Cauldron. When he looked himself over in the mirror, at least he felt more like his old self. He looked younger, of course, but then if Harry and the Longbottom boy were only now turning eleven, then he was younger. As a final preparation, he took up his wand from the nightstand and tucked it up his sleeve. This too was the same and his wand felt like an old friend in his hand, even though he had used it in the final battle against McGonagall less than two hours ago.

'No,' he told himself. 'It didn't happen.' He never fought McGonagall because she had never thought him a traitor. He never killed Dumbledore. He never killed Lily. Not here. As he walked down the stairs to take his son to Diagon Alley, the Dark Mark a faded memory from another life, he was determined. He would live this gift, for as long as he was able.