Resolutions Never Make It To The End Of The Year
When Severus imagined dying, he had never expected it to go like this. He had everything planned out down to the very last detail; and it had been so since the day he was informed the dark lord had risen again, Lily’s corpse coming back fresh in his mind at even the slightest mention of his master. Her death played out vividly in his mind even over a decade later, and he could still feel her rapidly cooling skin under his hands every time he closed his eyes.
The sound of a sobbing baby echoed in the back of his mind as he stared up at Lily’s son, his green eyes so like his mother’s and filled with tears that slowly slid down his cheeks. He held a hand against the professor’s neck in a weak attempt to slow the blood spurting and pooling out into a dark puddle, staining the wood beneath them and coating Potter’s hands a deep red.
Severus wondered if that stain would be the only thing left to remember him by, just a puddle on the floor of the shrieking shack amidst the blood running in rivers just outside the doors. Would people know the stain was his, or would it be chalked up to just another quirk inside the so-called haunted structure, mentioned absentmindedly amongst the many other tales of war?
It was quiet now, in the wake of the dark lord's absence. His presence had taken up the entire shack, choking him with terror and doubt, but now the silence was only broken by his own gurgling breaths as he struggled for air and Potter’s soft sobbing. Severus wasn’t sure what the boy was crying for. It surely couldn’t be for him, having terrorized the boy for seven years straight, but he couldn’t form any other coherent thoughts explaining the boy's sorrow either. Shakily, he raised a hand to clumsily grip Potter’s shoulder, hazily looking up and gazing into his eyes.
When he first set his sight on Harry Potter, all he could see was James. That vile, repulsive man who had made his life so utterly miserable that he couldn’t even think of him without the sticky feeling of rage and hatred coating his gut, hexes threatening to slip off his tongue at any second when he pictured his face. It seemed from the moment James heard the word ‘Slytherin’ come out of his mouth with any positive connotation attached to it, it was his life's mission to ruin the safe haven he had hoped Hogwarts would be. Another example of any possible escape from his misery being swept away in front of his eyes, being forced to watch as his life crumbled further and possible friends turning away in fear at first, and later in disgust.
Even after he had left Hogwarts, Severus’ relief from the school had last two measly years full of death eater meetings and raids, full of pleading faces covered in snot and blood as they begged for their own release from the pain he inflicted on them under the watch of purebloods cackling behind masks, and others who starred in silent resigned horror. The children are recruited by their parents and eager to preserve their culture, only to be faced with the reality of what this preservation entails. The ones like him who joined recklessly with hopes of being accepted, only to be marked with no way of returning once they realized what was happening behind closed doors. The ones who learned that the only choice they had was to spill blood or bleed.
But when the dark lord died, Lily died with him. And something in Severus died alongside Lily that night which even the horrors of war couldn’t snuff out. However, the moment he saw James’ doppelganger dare to set foot inside his life, it was like a spark had reignited. A resentment he had buried inside him and appealed with snide comments and petty detentions exploded into a full force flame, and he decided to return the favor of pain James gifted him back onto his son. And it felt good. Taking the boy who was surely spoiled rotten and had a head so big it nearly toppled off down a few notches was a small bit of power he could hold and cherish. A big “fuck you” to the Potter down 6 feet under, for the actions that seemed to so perfectly lead him down the path that ruined his life.
Now, looking up at the crying boy above him, his vision blurred. Whether from welling tears or blood loss, he didn’t know. He didn’t have the time left to ponder it either. As he choked on air he did not receive, James' features seemed to fade away. Gone were the lips that spat insults and spread rumors, the nose that scrunched up in mocking laughter, and the face faded to a blob of shapes and color. No, he couldn’t see James at all anymore. Severus was fixated on Harry’s eyes.
Round and doe-like, that's what everyone described her eyes as. Green as emeralds and softened by warmth and innocence. These eyes weren’t at all like that, hardened by the trauma of war and torment and death, but they were familiar all the same. They brightened the dark atmosphere and lit up the room. Just like hers did. A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat as copper seeped past his lips. These were the eyes of his best friend. Lily’s eyes.
Severus struggled to say anything, pain already dulling as the world seemed to seep of color, but the eyes remained. He weakly tightened his grip on Potter as he gasped. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what he wanted his last words to be. Parting his lips, he hesitated. An apology, maybe. Perhaps a plea for forgiveness. Whether it was meant for Lily or her son, he couldn’t tell you. But looking into the eyes of the boy who seemed to realize he was as good as dead, he had one thing on his mind.
“You have your mother’s eyes.”
Potter seemed to react somehow, but Severus could feel his body relax against his will and relinquish his ability to move. He really was a fool. The majority of his life was spent praying for an exit, any sort of relief from the sorrow and pain life brought upon him. But now, as he stared ahead, no longer having the energy to struggle for breath anymore, he did not want to die. He needed more time. He never got to apologize, nor did he get the chance to live the life he wanted. He wanted to get married. He wanted to release his inventions. He wanted to see the war end.
He wanted to live.
Severus wondered what could’ve happened. What kind of person would he have been, had fate allowed him these mercies, had granted him with happiness. Flashes of a life he never had flooded his mind as the darkness swallowed him, and he lost grip on Potter’s shoulder. He wasn’t ready. He needed more time. He needed another try, just one more, to get things right this time. Severus exhaled slowly, before staring into the approaching light.
And all at once, he knew no more.
+~+
“Just one chance. I’m begging you.”
“You know of the costs? Once the pact is sealed, the past will fade. However, there is nothing you can do to change the future. And you will return right back here, with more costs than before”
“I don’t care if I have a hundred years or just a single one. I need to go back.”
“Then go back you shall. But remember, death does not make pacts with consequences. It can only tweak so much. Your fate remains the same, no matter what timeline you happen to create. Everything that happens in between though- well, I suppose that’s up to you, isn’t it?”
+~+