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~If I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?~
Harry hadn’t planned this. Aldon’s tone had been so confrontational, and she had been so conflicted and longing for an easy, one-off way to end her suffering caused by feelings that she’d impulsively brought them here. It was bittersweet, how Aldon’s first reaction wasn’t one of immediate repulsion. Instead, he was still with shock, but willing to observe her actions first, like the true snake he was.
So there was no interruption to Harry’s manhandling of their contract detailing their fake relationship. Harry looked Aldon straight in the eye and ripped up their previous agreement to shreds with her bare hands, letting the pieces of paper fall like snow around them.
“What’s this supposed to mean?” Aldon’s honey-colored eyes were pretty, even when it was glinting dangerously.
Tell me you don’t like me . Aldon’s previous words echoed in her head. It should’ve been so easy. After the Ruse was over, all Aldon asked of her was a confirmation that she didn’t have any feelings for him—just one line, and he would let go. It should’ve been a clean break. But Harry was selfish.
I don’t like you. Not that way. I don’t like you. The words repeated in her head in a hypnotizing mantra, but they never made it out of her mouth.
“...You wanted a clean break, right?” It sounded desperate, even to Harry’s own ears. There was no better way than to destroy all the falsities from their past. They could easily start over like this. At least that was what Harry told herself.
Aldon stared at her in vague disbelief. There was an awkward silence as Aldon tried to process what Harry was doing. All he asked for was a verbal confirmation, and Harry had torn up the piece of paper that had held their past together instead. To make matters worse, Harry still hadn't said the words he didn't really want to hear—which should've been a relief. Instead, it just confused him more. Finally, he just shook his head. “I shouldn’t have hoped for anything.”
“I still want to be friends,” Harry said weakly. She felt like the evil villain in the children’s storybooks—the mindless antagonist who deliberately destroyed everything the protagonist held dear for no real good reason at all.
Aldon’s eyes flashed with something Harry couldn’t decipher, and when it disappeared, his arresting gaze had turned into freezing cold shards of ice barely stitched together by whatever affection he still held for her.
“Did you really think you could always have the best of both worlds?”
~You know I didn't want to have to haunt you, but what a ghostly scene…~
One week later, Harry made her way into the Potions Guild with no small amount of trepidation. Snape had owled her, telling her there was a project he wanted her to work on. It was weird, because the way he phrased it didn’t seem like a collaboration. What on Earth could Snape want her to research without him? Harry was reminded of fond memories of Snape sending her notes for purposes other than what was written.
When Harry opened the door to the lab, she wanted to back away, close the door, and pretend she had never made it to her appointment. Unfortunately, the moment she pushed the door open, everyone present in the room turned their heads simultaneously and there was an awkward silence as they stared at each other.
“...Wrong room,” Harry decided, and turned around firmly. She hadn’t spent the week living perpetual numbness just to be suddenly jerked out of it, especially when she had been looking forward to an intellectually stimulating and challenging project she could pour her soul into, thinking about nothing else but potions.
A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back in, arresting any attempts to leave on her part. Reluctantly, Harry turned back and met Snape’s dark glowering eyes. Harry resisted the urge to scowl right back. Instead, keeping her voice neutral, she asked, “You wanted to see me, Master Snape?”
She heard a light scoff from the tall figure she was definitely not pretending not to see. “As if I want to be here.”
Snape looked displeased at the remark. Well, he always had a permanent scowl on his face, but this time, he seemed even more annoyed than usual. And Harry knew him well enough to know that his annoyance wasn’t directed at her, per se. It was more at the situation itself, which Harry still didn’t fully understand.
“There is a project where your expertise is needed. You don’t have to partake in this if you don’t want to,” Snape added. Then, with the tone of someone who knew exactly what they were talking about and a side eye to their companions, he sneered, “Don’t know why they decided to go through me and not talk to you directly.”
Unable to avoid it any longer, Harry lifted her gaze to the other men in the room. Master Thompson looked bored, head resting on his hand, but Harry knew better by the way his eyes remained sharp and alert. They were glimmering in…excitement? There was a significantly older wizard standing next to him, who simply met Harry’s eyes with a nod of acknowledgement, a stony expression not giving away anything about who he was.
And then, of course, there was Aldon. If there was one place Harry thought she could avoid him, it would be the Potions Guild, but no .
(Harry determinedly ignored the fact that her solutions to relationship problems seemed to be either avoidance or cutting ties, but never thoroughly, and with nothing in between.)
Harry’s gaze only traveled as far as his chin, and stopped. Unbidden, memories of the last time they saw each other came to mind—her staring blankly at him after he said those words, eyes as cold as gold, and simply leaving the place, pleading to whatever higher powers who were listening to hurry up and let the numbness settle in.
Because he had been right . The best of both worlds was something she had never even wished for, knowing it to be futile, until she’d met him. After that, it was a luxury that she had deluded herself into thinking was the norm. She’d been spoiled by the opportunities and happiness the position of power provided her.
All feelings, old and new yet similarly ugly, resurfaced.
Nobody talked. They seemed to be waiting for something, and normally Harry would wait it out to see what they wanted, but she just wanted to leave. So eventually, she asked, “What did you need me for?”
“There’s been a project proposal that’s within my area of expertise,” Thompson finally said, eyes flickering to the only two without a Potions Mastery in the room. “An interdisciplinary project that would require your strengths.”
Master Carter, who turned out to be Aldon’s ex-mentor in Experimental Magical Theory, explained that they were partnering in a project that would apparently change the world. At least the world of Battle Potions, but the theory could be applied broadly and change the fundamentals of magic as they knew it. They had hit a snag, and Master Thompson remembered her— as if you’re that forgettable, Potter —and her Shaped Imbuing, and suggested her name to the other two. He and Carter immediately began explaining the semantics of it, and came up with the absolutely wonderful idea of partnering her with Aldon to work on it together as the senior academics supervised. It would be the kind of project that could make them big names once they succeed, Carter added excitedly. Thompson just gave Harry a lazy smirk when she looked at him.
“She’s already a name in the Potions field,” a voice pointed out from slightly behind her. It was Aldon. She didn’t know why, but something about the way he said it irked her. Maybe it was the tone, drawling and uncaring. Or maybe it was easier to be annoyed and angry at him, so her brain was automatically making her feel these things when he spoke. She didn’t know, but she could feel her fingernails sinking into her palm.
“Details, details,” Carter waved his hands dismissively. He was much more animated now that they were talking about his groundbreaking project that they absolutely could not do without her. Well, it was true that she probably did know enough Battle Potions for this, and she did invent Shaped Imbuing…
“May I suggest another option?” Logically, Harry knew why the senior academics had chosen her. Still, she had to say it, if only to cover all grounds. “Caelum Lestrange is an older Potions Master who knows how to Shaped Imbue.”
Not that she wanted to give what seemed to be an admittedly exciting project to Caelum. And honestly, she was a just as good, if not a better, potioneer than Caelum. She just…
She hardly knew what she was doing these days. Hadn’t she once prided herself in being able to separate emotion from her career? Harry’s mouth twisted in irony. Look where she was now.
Four pairs of eyes turned to her incredulously. Harry shifted uncomfortably. Still looking surprised, Carter said, “I didn’t know you were acquainted with the Lestrange Heir…”
“Normally, I wouldn’t be pureblooded enough to be,” Harry’s polite smile showed just enough teeth, and she ignored the way almost everyone flinched at her words. Almost, because Snape just looked sardonically amused. “But we’ve put aside our differences.” For the most part.
“They were in the Guild Internship together,” Thompson explained tiredly, taking pity on Carter, who looked just a little too stunned. Honestly, where was he during the whole Rigel Black debacle?
“Looking for another to use and throw away?” The mutter definitely wasn’t meant to be heard by the way he paled a few shades and his fingers flinched, as though he wanted to slap them over his mouth. It was heard by everyone in the quiet room anyway.
It wasn’t fair . Sure, Harry was ashamed of the way she handled their last encounter, but Aldon was being so unfair right now with the way he was handling things. He was the one who offered. He was the one who proposed the contract. The fact that he never ratted her out when he found out she was Rigel Black and helped her instead was something she would eternally be grateful for, but he was the one who instigated everything, and now he was acting like this because things didn’t turn out the way he thought they would.
What a spoiled brat . Unbidden, the darker parts of Harry’s mind gave a whispery echo.
Aldon looked like he regretted his words as soon as it came out of his mouth, but whether it was because everyone heard or he hadn’t meant it, Harry didn’t care.
“We’ve put aside our differences,” Harry repeated loudly. Perhaps, in a way, she was the only one who could break the awkward silence. “He’s learned to ignore my blood in virtue of advancing an academic field.”
For the sake of her subtle dig, Harry didn’t add that Caelum probably did it because he couldn’t stand the thought of her knowing something he didn’t.
“Er, that’s good to hear,” Carter looked distinctly more uncomfortable now that they had wavered from the academic talk. “Still, we’d prefer it if you joined us with your expertise, seeing as you pioneered the technique.”
“Yes, join us,” Aldon surprisingly agreed. Harry could feel his gaze on her, but she still didn’t look above his chin. “Help us advance a couple more academic fields.”
Harry bristled. “Fine. I’m sure it will be in the best interest of both worlds.”
“As long as your skills bring more to the table than your questionable stitches.”
“My stitches add character, which is more than you can say with your tasteless gold.”
“ Tasteless? Have you looked in a mirror today?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. You know what I don’t see? A giant, old-fashioned gem from someone’s grandma’s old jewelry box.”
“You know what they say. The right gem reflects the soul, along with its accompanying odors and—”
“ Enough! ” Snape finally snapped. He glared at them both. “Solve your personal problems in your own time. If we’re in agreement, meet in this lab at the same time two days later. Do not expect me to be here.”
It wasn’t even about who was right or wrong anymore…as with all old divorced couples. Still, nobody talked about the handknit scarf still hidden away in a drawer, or the glimmering chrome sphene the color of her eyes carefully locked in a box and put under the bed anymore.
~And you can aim for my heart, go for blood…~
Two days later, their tempers had cooled, and both had the foresight to prepare research for the meeting, so the first half of their session was just looking through what the other wrote and making notes and adjustments here and there. Harry could handle reading and making notes. Conversing was another matter entirely.
It started out fine.
“If we add it, it will be incomplete. Imbalanced.” Aldon was staring at the paper thoughtfully.
“Maybe we could replace it with an imbued spell.” Harry, too, wasn’t looking at him. Again, she had avoided looking above his chin. It made things easier, and it was slightly insulting how her natural gaze barely reached his chin anyway.
“It could serve as an on-off switch…”
“The problem is we already have too many imbued spells, and the magic required to make it all work and separate them so they don’t counteract each other is too taxing. We could add some stones, but there’s only so much they can do, and it won’t be economical. I don’t like—” Harry cut herself off in the middle of rambling. The last words remained stuck in her throat.
Using too many stones anyway. Him. You.
Aldon’s movements stilled as well. Finally, after a few seconds, he coughed. “Would a grandma’s gemstone work?”
It’s purely hypothetical. He’s not stupid; he’s just trying to rile you up. Calm down.
Harry risked a side glance. His lips were twisted into a smirk, but it wasn’t the familiar kind—the humorous kind. Even though his tone was neutral, his expression was scathing. That was why Harry didn’t want to look at him. Though to be fair, her own expression was probably mirroring his, especially after that comment.
“There’s nothing magical about that particular gemstone.” Harry kept her voice even, poker face sliding into place. Stop here , she mentally scolded herself. Don’t say something you’ll regret .
“Of course not…” Aldon made a humming noise at the back of his throat. “All it is is representative of one’s intentions, clear as daylight. A little harsh around the edges, but honest all the same. Nothing magical about it, but certainly not impossible .”
Emotions tugged at Harry’s gut. Face set, she put down the papers and turned to face Aldon fully, for the first time. She stared in his direction, stony facade hiding all the cracks underneath.
“As long as we’re still talking about the gemstone,” Harry stared into the gold that was his irises, “Not only is there nothing magical about it, it also can’t be used for anything other than to look at. It’s pretty, rare, and expensive, but that’s all there is to it. The gem itself is so soft that a little magic would crack it and render it useless.”
“The gem may be soft, but it’s still a stone.” Aldon stared challengingly back at her. “As long as you treat it with as much care as it warrants, and not use it for anything other than its intended purposes, it would never crack.”
“ What intended purposes, Aldon?”
“Jewelry?” He replied, only slightly sarcastically.
“Just so it could be an accessory to the wearer? And when the wearer is done for the night, it would be left to rot until the wearer picks it back up again. Is that what you want?”
“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what the wearer wants.”
“And the stone would be content being used as jewelry? When it could’ve been so much more—cure ailments, bring good luck, make something actually useful —or even left alone in the mines, shining with other gemstones that are just as bright?”
“Maybe the gemstone knows what it wants,” Aldon snapped back. “It doesn’t want to fulfill its so-called highest potential. You can’t impose your idea of what it should want on it.”
“It’s a fucking rock! It can’t want anything!” This was getting ridiculous. Harry yanked them out from the metaphorical gem back to the real, physical gem under her bed. She was determined to let them stay there, but the persistent thought in her head bled through her conviction. Her vision was getting blurry. Her breath hitched, but she still said it, voice wavering—
“—The wearer has other jewelry to choose from.”
~And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain, crossing out the good years…~
“What was the biggest mistake you’ve ever made?”
The question was surprisingly serious. They were just idly eating ice cream, playing twenty questions for the heck of it. Something about being honest, which Harry would be the first to admit wasn’t what she was exactly known for. Still, Aldon was now in on one of her most important secrets, so she had allowed herself to relax around him.
“Aside from pretending to be my cousin and lying to literally everybody I know for years?” Harry replied dryly.
Aldon simply raised an eyebrow. “Was that a mistake?”
“...No.” Harry smiled sheepishly. She should’ve used a better example to deflect.
“...Loving you,” Harry said out loud. It was frustrating how she, someone known for speaking her mind, was only able to voice her thoughts when she was alone. How she was still unable to be honest, even when she was by herself and staring at the mirror in utmost privacy. “My biggest mistake was loving you.”
Of course, the prerequisite to that statement was that she had ever loved him in the first place, but as Harry’s mind wandered there, as it had done for quite some time now, all she felt was numbness.
When Harry looked into her reflection, she didn’t see herself. Instead, she saw a mess of a human being, sucked dry by her confusion about her feelings.
Did she love Aldon? Yes. Did she love him as more than a friend? She thought she didn’t. It was the logical conclusion; she couldn’t have fallen for him when she wasn’t looking for anyone to give her heart to. She thought she safeguarded her heart well. But when everyone she knew started giving her those looks and such after she had broken things off, she wasn’t so sure anymore. After all, her friends and family have proven time and time again that sometimes, they were more clear about her own feelings than herself. And wasn’t that a nice thought? Who said that she would always be the one who knew herself best?
She couldn’t love him, Harry thought. They were simply too different for her to develop feelings towards him.
So why couldn’t she tell him that she didn’t have feelings for him? Harry found herself physically incapable of those words. That must mean she did have at least some feelings for him, Harry decided. That or she was cursed. But it didn’t make sense, because when Harry tried to imagine a future without Aldon, it worked. She’d read that some people can’t imagine their life without their significant other, but the conclusion to her particular fantasy was that the loss of Aldon wasn’t really a loss at all. It was the exact opposite of textbook romance.
Not to mention how he made her feel when he was physically in front of her—it wasn’t love. Shame. Guilt. Annoyance. Sadness. Wistfulness. Heartbreak.
Heartbreak?
Harry frowned.
The premise to feeling heartbreak was if she gave him her heart in the first place. Assuming that the heartbreak she felt was real, then it also meant she hadn’t safeguarded her heart very well. So she had loved him once? When did it happen, and how did she not notice? When did it stop? Did it stop? Harry wasn’t so oblivious that she wouldn’t notice if she fell in love with someone, she reasoned. Neither her thoughts nor her feelings could answer why she couldn’t tell him she didn’t love him.
Maybe she was cursed.
Except she would’ve known, because Dom would’ve known and told her, and when she stepped into her mindscape that time, Dom had simply rolled his eyes and muttered, “Ugh, teenagers.” So Dom, perhaps the one who knew her best by now, wasn’t much help. Leo, too, to be honest. He kept asking her how she felt and while she was appreciative that he respected her and validated her feelings, if he asked her one more time —
Harry took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom. She recalled the last time she saw Aldon, as she had done for the past few days. Why, and how, did things keep getting worse and worse when they met? Things would be fine, and then they’d get into a childish argument that would somehow turn into something bigger, and in the end they’d both leave worse for wear. There was something she was missing; something crucial to the equation that she was not seeing yet.
She went downstairs to see Archie playing with Addy. Her parents had gone out, and while Harry was supposed to be watching her sister, Archie showed up saying they could watch her together. She stopped at the end of the stairs and watched as Addy zoomed around, giggling when Archie pretended not to be able to catch her.
Self-doubt, an emotion she was intimately familiar with these days, began to creep in. Did Archie think she couldn’t take good care of her kid sister? Because she’d been a little bit— not very noticeably! —out of it these days? No , Harry tried to shake herself out of those thoughts. She was thinking too much. By doubting herself, she was doubting Archie, and she couldn’t do that.
If she clenched her fist any longer, there would be permanent indents in her palm where her very short fingernails were digging into. Forcing her muscles to relax, she gave Archie and Addy a half-smile when they finally noticed her presence.
“Thought you’d be in your lab,” Archie greeted, barely managing to keep the squealing toddler in his arms.
“Too much to think about,” Harry replied vaguely. “Have you two eaten yet?”
“No.” Even as he shook his head, Archie gave her a knowing look. He was the only one Harry told about working with Aldon in a “potions project”. It didn’t take a genius for him to guess what—or who—she had been thinking about.
Merlin, Harry just wanted this to end . She was so tired already, and trying to figure out her feelings was taking more out of her than any potions project ever.
Harry walked into the kitchen and stared at their pantry. Neither she nor Archie had inherited their parent’s cooking skills. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches it is then.”
Archie remained silent for a few seconds. Then, he said, “You can talk to me, if you want. Pretend I’m a tree. I’ll listen, but I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to.”
Harry paused. Raising an eyebrow, she turned to face him. “You don’t want to give your opinion? That’s rare.”
Archie, however, didn’t take the cue to lighten the mood. Instead, he simply asked, “Do you even want to hear it? Scratch that—is my opinion valid?”
Harry pursed her lips. Archie looked earnest, or at least as earnest as he could trying to corral a toddler to the dining table and keep her there. “If it was, what would you say?”
For a moment, there was only the sound of Addy squirming and Harry rummaging through the kitchen shelves. Then, there was a quiet, “I think you should think less and feel more.”
And that was it. He didn’t ask her how she felt. He didn’t treat her like he knew exactly what she was going through and so she should heed his advice because he knew better than she .
Harry came to a decision. Granted, it was one that was a long time coming; it was only now that Harry was acknowledging it.
“You’re right,” she said at last. “Your opinion isn’t valid. As for mine…” Harry sliced through the bread with more force than warranted. “...It doesn’t matter either.”
“Whoa.” Archie held out a hand, as if to stop her. He eyed the knife in her hand warily. “What do you mean?”
Harry gave him a smile, but it was wobbly. “I’ve been really selfish all along. It’s hurting the both of us, so…I should stop.”
~And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too…~
Aldon loved her. It gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest, but it was tampered with cold, snake-like despair.
She didn’t love him enough.
Harry lounged alone in the ballroom. She would wait the party out until it was time to leave. Aldon…had probably left already. Why would he still be here, right after she rejected him?
It was for the good of both of them that she rejected him. If they really went on with the marriage, she could already envision the cold, dark house as they both went on with their busy lives without accommodating each other’s feelings. It wouldn’t be a loveless marriage, but it would be an apathetic one. Harry didn’t mind it, but she knew Aldon well enough by now to know that he would, even though he would never admit it.
He deserved someone who loved him enough to give him the passion that he wanted. He deserved someone who could balance their life and career, who could give as much of themselves as he gave them.
So why waste their time? The quicker Aldon got over this, the quicker he could find the one he was intended to be with the whole time. His soulmate, as he would be inclined to believe.
Something tugged at her heartstrings. As Harry would soon learn, her resolve wasn’t as strong as she thought it was.
In the end, it didn’t matter how much or how little she loved him. She would crush those dying embers with her bare hands, even if it hurt her, because there was no future where the flames would burn.
~We gather stones never knowing what they'll mean: some to throw, some to make a diamond ring…~
Aldon was nothing.
He wasn’t even an accessory. Harry had milked him for all he was worth, and now that she was done, she paid him back for all his time and feelings by mercilessly tearing him apart.
It was cruel. It was cold-hearted. It was…something he had always ran the risk of, because he knew, right from the very beginning, that he would fall harder than she ever would, and there would be nothing to break his fall.
He would’ve been content being on the sidelines of her life, if only she would allow him in it. Not only did she push him back towards the invisible line she had drawn as an eleven-year-old, she hadn’t done it cleanly . It was akin to a carrot on a stick, and he was the donkey.
“Fuck this,” he said aloud. He was the Rosier Heir. As much as he hated his parents, his upbringing had taught him that he could basically do whatever he wanted. As long as it wasn’t too much, many things were still salvageable because of his status. His family fortune could handle a ring.
His thumb had an indent where the jewel imprinted on it because he was clutching it so tightly. With all his might, he flung the ring into the fireplace with a thunk and a crackle of fire.
“That’s an expensive throw,” a voice remarked from the doorway. Ed’s footsteps drew closer when Aldon didn’t acknowledge his presence. “Then again, you don’t lack that kind of money.”
So let her go, just as easily as you let the ring go .
Aldon let out a huff. As if it had been easy. None of this had been easy. The hand on his shoulder gently turned him so they were facing each other. A few seconds passed. Aldon shifted uncomfortably. He hated it when Ed looked at him like he was one of his hurt animals.
“I…” Aldon wanted to say something, but for the first time, he didn’t know what to say.
Remaining expressionless at his lack of words, Ed just said two words, his voice a comforting, familiar rumble. “I know.”
Aldon wanted to whine like a child. He wanted to complain about the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. He wanted to be reassured that he was more than just the Rosier Heir.
He did none of those things. Instead, he just cried, for the first time since infancy.
~Look at how my tears ricochet…~
“Colleagues,” they said together. They both blinked in surprise at their unison.
“But I thought, ten years ago…” The woman glanced unsurely between Aldon and Harry, her arm around Aldon’s tightening slightly.
“No, that wasn’t a real relationship,” Aldon was fast to reassure her.
“We were never anything more than colleagues,” Harry agreed. “In contract and everything.”
“...If you say so.” The woman glanced shyly up at Aldon. Harry almost rolled her eyes.
“Well, it was nice…meeting you.” Harry smiled politely instead. “I have to go now, so…see you around. Bye.”
“Goodbye,” Aldon answered cordially. As if this wasn’t their first conversation in…five years?
Harry left unhurriedly. Once she was far away enough, she risked a glance back. To her surprise, Aldon flicked his gaze back at her in that exact moment as well. Their eyes met briefly, and she deftly turned away.
They made a good couple.
~You turned into your worst fears…~