Severus hadn’t left his office in days. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a proper meal, let alone tea that was actually warm.
He had been dissociating for the last hour, staring at his shelves of potion ingredients, lost in the turmoil of his thoughts. A cold cup of tea lay forlornly on his desk, amid a pile of papers and books that were in no way organized or neatly stacked. The empty bag of medi minis, the balls itself having fallen onto the floor and rolled off into the dark corners of his office, stood like a gaping maw which seemed to suck all of Severus’ motivation into a endless void.
The map lay scrunched up on the floor. A useless piece of parchment.
Just as useless as Severus felt.
It had taken a whole day of staring at the map for Severus to put a word to the pain that gripped his chest.
Betrayal.
He had felt a kinship with the boy. A fatherly devotion he would never admit too. And yes, he knew Rigel had his secrets. What true Slytherin didn’t? But they had a connection, didn’t they? A likeness of mind and intellect. A thirst for innovation and experimentation. A bond formed during trials no child should have ever had to experience.
And this child was a half-blood. Just like him. And yet the boy had not trusted him enough to shoulder the burden of his secrets. To allow Severus to help. Had he not proven that he could be trusted?
Maybe Poppy was right, and he needed to be more affectionate, though the word made him grimace. Maybe he should have picked up that parenting book he had seen in a random Muggle shop in London. Maybe he should have spoken up when he noticed the discrepancies between Rigel and his relationship with Sirius.
It made complete sense now, of course. Rigel was never a Black. Who he was though, Severus did not know. Yet every nerve in his body tingled on edge. His brain felt like sludge, trying to sort through memory after memory with the hopes of revealing a sliver of a conversation that might lead to the truth. That could reveal Rigel’s true identity.
He was so close. He could feel it. The child was too familiar, too tangible… To have kept this up so long and fooled so many…It did not make sense for it to be a random boy from the Continent, desperate for an education.
Yet Severus was exhausted. He wanted to close his eyes, but his brain refused to shut down and give him a moment of peace. It was thought after thought after thought. He was at the top of a tall tower, running down a spiral staircase with no end. The walls curving closer and closer. Tighter and tighter. There was no room to breathe. And when he fell, all he could hear was the thud of his body breaking against the stone…
The thudding turned into pounding against the door.
Severus sat up, his head throbbing sharply. The door to his office swayed before his eyes. When had he fallen asleep?
“Severus, if you don’t open this cursed door, I swear–”
Sparks of magic lit the space between the door and the floor of Severus’ office. Severus groaned, pinching the space between his eyes, before lurching to his feet.
The door swung open revealing a frustrated and rather rumpled looking Poppy. Her face was furious.
“You!” she shouted, jabbing a finger into Severus’s chest.
Severus backed up slowly, suddenly quite scared of the short matron before him.
Poppy gave him a once-over, her sharp eyes taking in every wrinkle in his robes, his lank hair that had not been washed in days, the dark bags under his eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest, then huffed loudly before stalking towards the door that led to his sleeping quarters.
“Poppy…” Severus started, but there was no heat left to his words. He trudged after the little angry healer.
Poppy had her wand out again and was waving it around in long sweeping motions. A fire flickered into being in the little grate next to his bed. A dusting charm went to work on his sheets and blankets. It took all of Snape’s energy to not lean against the door frame. He suddenly felt exhausted. And all he wanted to do was fall into his bed and not wake up for a few days.
Poppy must have seen him swaying–for Snape felt like the world was a ship at sea, bobbing among the waves–and grabbed him gently, helping him over to his bed.
“Lie down,” she said sternly. And then at Snape’s face, she sighed loudly, “At least sit. I’ll make a cup of tea.”
Snape sank into his bed, watching through his curtain of black hair as Poppy went about making tea.
“Drink.” A cup was forced into Snape’s hands. He eyed it suspiciously. This was definitely not just tea. Before he could open his mouth however, Poppy gave him a look that could wither the Whomping Willow, and he shut up.
He drank the whole cup down, his throat burning from the heat and bitter taste. Poppy handed him another cup that was quite clearly just tea, before sitting down in a chair across from him, a cup cradled in her own hands.
They sat in awkward silence.
“Severus…” Poppy began. When Snape said nothing, she continued. “I know you are hurt and confused. We all are.” Her lips pressed tightly into a line, and she blinked quickly. Severus felt a lump in his throat. While he had been close to the boy, he was not the only one. He could only imagine what his godson, Draco, was going through right now…Yet a part of him just did not care. He wanted to scream, to drown out the voices in his head. He wanted the world to feel every inch of burning pain he was feeling in his chest. No one could truly understand what it was like for him to lose Rigel…
Poppy was still speaking. “But you are not helping Rigel by being in this state.” Poppy reached out and clasped one of her hands with his, squeezing. “I know it cannot be helped. You have mourned, and you will mourn still. But Severus…if anyone can figure out who and where this child is, it is you.”
Severus looked up. His dark eyes boring into Poppy’s blue ones.
“I have tried.” Severus cleared his throat, unused to speaking. “I tracked the boy’s magic from the medi minis he imbued. He is somewhere in London...But that is as far as I can trace him.”
Poppy pursed her lips. “Perhaps you are looking at this the wrong way.”
Snape frowned. His brain felt clearer than it had in days. His core expanded and energized. Though the fatigue and ache were still there, a throbbing presence at the back of his mind.
“The real Arcturus Rigel Black has been at AIM this entire time,” Poppy was saying. “And Harriet Potter has been living in the Lower Alleys educating herself through a correspondence program.”
Snape snorted in disdain. “Only a Potter would forgo all that money to live in filth and–”
Poppy glared at him. “I know people in the Alleys. People who I have been in touch with.” Poppy’s forehead creased in frustration. “But one thing about the Alleys, they keep their secrets close, and their friends even closer.”
“What are you saying.” Snape felt his body tense up.
“No one has seen the Potter heir in the Alleys during the school year…” Poppy stared at him, her face blank.
“No,” Snape retorted. “Absolutely not.”
It did not make sense. He had met the girl, and yes, she had similarities with Rigel, but she could not behim. Whatever similarities existed were part of an elaborate ruse to fool him and everyone else in the Wizarding World. It was the only explanation.
“I knew James and Sirius probably better than you did, Severus,” Poppy sighed. “James was the brains behind every prank. Sirius…well you know him and his flair for the dramatics. Would it be so far off?”
Snape shook his head.
Poppy sighed, standing up. “Don’t let your hatred towards her father keep you from seeing the truth, Severus.”
When Snape stayed silent, Poppy headed towards the door to his office. “Get some rest. I’ll come back with some dinner later, which you will eat, or I will admit you to the Hospital Wing myself.”
Severus groaned.
Later that night, Severus lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. His brain whirred like a muggle contraption. His heart beating against his rib cage like a drum.
The truth lay all around him.
And what beauty was this truth.