You could hear it in the ragged breathing of young Hogwarts students who had known him true, and the snorts of derision from those who hadn't. You could hear it in the sharp cries of those who had looked up to him, and the relief of those who had wanted him torn down.
You could hear it in the shocked exclamations raking through manors and huts alike when the news broke, and the gossip that spread like wildfire in the aftermath.
You could hear it and deny it, but it wouldn't stop being true.
Rigel Black had been found dead.
◇ ◇ ◇
“Oh, Harry,” Lily said softly, wrapping her in a hug, “It's okay to cry.”
Harry couldn't stop herself from shaking. She should be relieved, relaxed, now that she managed to stymie the search, but instead she felt more hollow than ever.
Rigel Black was dead for the world. But what did that mean for everything she had built herself to be for the last four years? Somehow, back when she had begun the ruse, she hadn't anticipated that it would hurt so much. That she would worry so wretchedly for the people she had gotten to know along the way.
A part of her wondered whether they would even care. It would be for the best if they didn't. No one would have to suffer any more on her account.
But past the denial and self-revulsion, she knew they would. It didn't matter if she'd betrayed them. She'd spent four years sharing both laughter and tears.
How would they not care?
◇ ◇ ◇
The stark white lighting and pungent stench of antiseptic brought him back to himself.
Why was he in the hospital wing?
“Oh, Severus,” Poppy said, voice close to breaking, “You mustn't do this to yourself.”
Like whatever reprieve his shock had bought him was over, memories of the past day flooded him. His frame flinched and he resisted the urge to scratch at his flesh and bones until his body felt as raw as his heart.
Rigel was gone.
He hadn't believed it at first. He had burnt the dishrag of a paper that had dared to spread such heinous lies, and then he'd set towards his lab with armed purpose. It might have been better for the boy that he had managed to fool the world off his back, but Severus wouldn't fall for it. He still had some of Rigel's medi-minis, and although it wouldn't give him too specific a location, he would still be able to verify that Rigel was alive and kicking.
He had to be.
He hadto— but he wasn't. Severus had given himself third degree burns redoing the divination again and again, all to no avail. The process couldn't identify any magic identical to that of the medi-minis anymore.
Rigel was gone— but he couldn't be.
He couldn't.
So why had they reported a body—
He couldn't—.
◇ ◇ ◇
“Don't look so dejected,” Dom chided, “Wasn't this what you wanted? You can live as yourself, now. Truly.”
“Right,” Harry said, voice hoarse, “As myself. Thanks for that, by the way.”
Dom scratched the back of his head, “It was nothing special. I just altered the signature of your magic like I did for the resonance. And the body…”
“It really looked just like me,” Harry said quietly, “or rather, like Rigel.”
“Ancient magics are no joke,” Dom said, “I could teach you more, you know.”
She wondered if her smile looked as sad as she felt, “I'd rather not, if it's all the same.”
Dom shrugged, “Have it your way.”
◇ ◇ ◇
Hurst was pushing him to write to the Potter girl. Severus wondered if he shouldn't just pickle the man and be done with it.
It had been more than six months, now, since the dastardly Ruse had come to an end and with it brought Rigel to his own. Six months, or so they said, and yet for Severus no time had seemed to pass. He was still frozen down to the very minute he'd clutched his apprentice's cold, cold hands and was forced to accept the bitter, damning truth.
What was he meant to do now? Why was he still here, after having parted with the few years of his life that had given the rest of his existence meaning?
What sort of sick Fate was this meant to be— gracing him with a child only to then rip him away?
Hurst was blathering on about how if Severus didn't finalise his apprenticeship with Miss Potter soon, it would fall through and harm her chances in the guild, but Severus honestly couldn't care less.
He couldn't bring himself to get up every morning, he was on break from his duties as a Potions Master, he didn't want to think.
So what if she suffers? If she hadn't thought of this facade in the first place—
Severus downed a headache relief potion and closed his eyes.
Part of him wanted to shut the world out and burrow with a vial of the Memory Potion where he treasured all his moments with his troublemaking apprentice, never to surface to reality again.
And yet, another part of him wanted revenge. He wanted to watch as the hateful world that had driven Rigel into a corner and made him choose such a dangerous life crumbled to ashes.
Maybe that was why he was still here.
◇ ◇ ◇
It seemed all her terrible luck really had been connected to her alter ego. In just a year since she’d shed her old scales, all her worries had been dealt with.
Harry didn't know the details, but from what James had to say on the subject, someone in Riddle’s party had defected and managed to orchestrate a confrontation between him and Voldemort. Although the former won, the resonance had been debilitating to both parties, and Riddle was no longer in the public eye. With their leaders out of action, the SOW party had once more reverted to its overt bigotry and lost their respect in society, while the directionless Death Eaters were being rounded up at a comforting pace. The Light, taking advantage of this political vacuum, were overturning one discriminatory legislature after another.
Everything was going so unbelievably well that she could almost forget that Snape hadn't gotten in touch with her. Almost.
They had first begun the apprenticeship paperwork when she’d introduced her Healing Kit to him, in the hopes that he’d be able to handle the approvals and testing aspects of it so long as he was formally her master. They hadn't had a chance to complete it in the name of the school year, and afterwards…
Well, she’d gone and crushed any trust there was in their relationship, hadn't she?
She didn't know if it was because she had begun to spend more time with Leo and at the guild, but Master Hurst had noticed her morose state and told her he’d see to the matter, her objections falling on deaf ears.
But another month had passed since then, and she realized it didn't matter. Professor Snape really had given up on her, well and good.
It wasn't as if she hadn't kept an ear to the ground for any news. He had seldom been sighted in public, and the only two bits of news on him were the sensationalist articles ripping into him for not knowing about the ruse back when it was exposed and the surge of articles that marked him leaving the SOW party after Riddle had secluded himself.
It wasn't even as though she didn't have her suspicions. The defector might well be him. The timing, motives, all seemed to align if…
…If he still cared for her as Rigel.
But then how could she ever face him as Harry? Why would he even want to see her as Harry?
But she… she just wished it didn't have to end like this. She wanted to meet him, if only for the last time. If she could just apologize—
And as though fate had decided to give her one final gift, the flutter of wings signaling the morning owl had only just registered when she found a letter by her plate, the scrawl ever so familiar.
She ripped into it without a care for the company she kept.
Miss Potter,
The Potions Guild at 11 o’ clock this Thursday. Do not be late.
Severus Snape
The letter was curt enough to be rude, void of any salutation or complimentary close, but Harry didn't care.
He— He's willing to meet me. Oh Merlin. He's mad, I can tell, but he agreed to meet me. He wrote first. My wish came true—
“Harry?! Are you crying?” James jumped from his seat with all the grace of a bumbling giraffe, “What happened, little fawn?”
Harry sniffled and clutched the letter tightly against her chest, allowing, for once, Lily's arms to shield her from further questioning.
Sometimes, it almost felt like her mother knew.
◇ ◇ ◇
Severus heard a distinct snort as he passed by the guild reception.
“You have something to say, Mr. Farley?” He asked the receptionist pointedly. Severus recalled the boy to be quite average in Potions back in his Hogwarts days. He must be filling in as a paperwork intern.
“No— er. It's just that, um, you're fifteen minutes early to your appointment, Master Snape,” Farley said uncomfortably.
“And?” Severus raised an eyebrow.
“Miss Potter was half an hour early, too.”
Severus ignored the confusing mix of emotions that sentence produced. He was ever so slightly annoyed at being the tardier of the two, pleased that she was at least respectful enough to be early, and disturbed because Farley had broken the adamant concentration he'd mustered towards feeling nothing.
He shot Farley a glare and swiftly made his way to the booked lab, slowing down only before the final turn to have a moment for analyzing the girl. He expected to go unnoticed, particularly as his stealth had only increased the past year, but she caught his eyes right away.
Was it because she expected him to be early, as well? It felt like something more. The way she looked at him… It felt like she was recognizing her home. Her shoulders relaxed, the lines on her face temporarily vanishing in favor of the slightest of smiles.
He felt like he'd been struck, and he couldn't tell why. Why was she looking at him like that? Who was she, to be so familiar with him? When had someone last looked at him with satisfaction rather than pity?
And just as quickly, as though she could read the turmoil her mere demeanour had kicked up, her face smoothened into neutrality.
“Master Snape,” She said, “Good morning.”
He inclined his head slowly, “Well met, Miss Potter.”
Before they had to converse any further, he charmed open the lab door and stepped within. She followed after him, and it was her patient silence, more than anything, that told him she knew why he had called her there.
He had debated, at great length, what to do with the girl. There was no doubt as to whether she had a hand in deceiving him. For all that she claimed she had not known that Rigel was a halfblood like her, it was common knowledge that the idea of the ruse, at least, came from her. What he further knew, being as deeply embroiled in the Potions community as he was, was that even the longevity of the ruse was largely to her credit. It was she who came up with the Modified Polyjuice recipe, after all.
But then, that also served to show how truly talented Harriet Potter was. The Shaped Imbuing, the Healing Kit, the Polyjuice— they were signs of genius. He should be pleased to still have someone like her under his wing. He should be, but instead he felt hollow.
Those eyes of hers, that looked at him like she had already entrusted a core part of herself to him. That told him he had the power to shatter her completely, or build her up again.
They chafed, and he hated it. This girl wanted more than anything to learn under him, had perhaps the potential to surpass him and grow to be a force to be reckoned with. In another world, or perhaps just a year ago, he would have wanted to help her.
Even now, he should be wanting to help her, for when would he come even close to finding someone with this intensity once more? He had known only Rigel before, and that boy…
“I’m sorry,” Severus said quietly. The words surprised her as much as they had him. Why was he apologizing? He had the right to refuse her, he should, by all means, be refusing her just to punish her—
There was a sinking emptiness in Severus’ heart, and he feared nothing could bring back what had once filled that place with warmth. But still, that didn't mean he wanted to hurt this girl.
He had tried to hate her, back when he thought he needed something to hate in order to survive. Tried to convince himself that he couldn't aid this foolish girl, another cog wheel in the sick game where Severus had lost the one thing he had begun to care for.
Only, he’d come to realise she was a victim too.
Like with Rigel, the world had driven her into a corner, and she'd simply made a choice to break out of that prison. Why was that wrong? Then, had Rigel been wrong too?
Who was he kidding? He just didn't want to meet those fervid eyes and because it would be a painful reminder of what could have been. He wanted Rigel back. But Harriet Potter wasn't, and never could be Rigel Black.
So what was there to say but a no?
“I'm sorry,” he said again, and he wondered when he'd begun to sound so tired, “You don't deserve this.” And wasn't that at the heart of it? She didn't deserve this.
And neither would Rigel have ever wanted it.
Her throat closed up abruptly.
Seeing his discomfort, Potter swallowed, then bowed her head, “I understand, sir. I'm really sorry for—”
Severus held up a hand, and she stilled.
For a minute, there was utter silence.
“Miss Potter,” he began, after he'd regained a measure of control, “I don't want you to ever lie to me again.”
She blinked, lips parting in genuine surprise, “Pardon me?”
“These are the rules for our apprentice-mentor relationship,” Severus clarified, “Rule number one: no more lies. Ever. I won't pry into your private matters, but you mustn't actively conceal anything from me.”
The disbelief hadn't left her expression.
“Rule two: You will—” he swallowed, “You will come to me if you are facing any difficulties. Rigel would get himself into messes year after year, and I'd hear nothing about it until it was far too late. I'm not having a repeat of that, understood?”
No response. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.
“Promise me this, and I'm willing to take you under my wing,” Severus concluded.
Oh Morgana, were those tears?
“Wow, I…” Harriet let out a laugh that was only slightly hysterical, “I really didn't deserve you, did I?”
Severus froze, “What are you—?”
“It’s me, Professor. I’m— It’s always been me.”
Mere words shouldn't have been able to fragment Severus' mind the way they did, but they did.
What.
“I'm so sorry. You must’ve— I— I’m really sorry. No more lies, I swear, I’m—”
Who— Rigel? No. Rigel is g o n e.
You checked. Don't get your hopes up. You saw him.
What.
Just what did I hear? Why did she—?
What.
Severus gripped the desk behind him to keep himself straight, “You— what?”
“It's me, sir,” Harriet said, meeting his eyes with such sincerity that it could be nothing but the truth, “I'm Rigel. You said no more lies, and I couldn't— I had to tell you. I came here prepared to never learn from you again, but you…”
Severus’ vision swam, and it took him a moment to realise she'd collapsed to her knees.
“I'll accept whatever you wish. Even if you take back what you said earlier, I- I'll understand. I'm so sorry sir. I've been so foolish—”
His body moved without his conscious input, traversing the distance and embracing her— oh Merlin, she lives — until her words were just whispers secondary to the warmth he felt flooding his body once more.
“Thank you,” Severus said, for really, what else could he say? “for coming back to me.”
“Thank you for having me,” Harry whispered.
“Always.”