That thing that beats
Draco is the first one to receive a letter, delivered by Phil at breakfast time after the flurry of owls have already left. The dining hall is silent as Draco accepts the letter with little more than a nod.
No one speaks after that. Harry feels sick, but grateful that it’s Draco.
North always had a flair for dramatics. There’s a tightness in his chest and Harry wonders if it’s from the Hope he carries or if it’s his heart. He can’t tell right now.
There are no deliveries for three weeks, until one morning, there are no owls, only the tiny buzzing of fairies. Baby Tooth is not with them.
They don’t wait for anyone, just drop the letter off in front of Pansy and leave. Pansy thinks they are just as rude, but Harry knows they are mourning too. Eventually, they will be cheerful once more.
There is a thick melancholy in the air that Harry fights with each night.
Sandy’s second hasn’t been chosen yet, so it’s not surprising no one sleeps well. The dream sand Harry had is just normal sand, but he refuses to get rid of it. (His nest becomes a memorial of his childhood-the colorful leather Tooth would weave into his hair, his googies, the hand carved toys Jack had made, and the soft blanket North had knitted him.)
He has yet to open a tunnel and go to the Warren. Hedwig doesn’t pester him to go, but he knows she watches him closely.
—————————————————————
Blaise wakes up the next morning-his bed covered in a layer of sand-sand that sparkles like diamonds. It is white and powdery and soft, like an unspoken dream.
That night, Blaise goes around the castle, sprinkling the fine sand in all the common rooms and the castle rests for the first time. Blaise, himself, naps for less than an hour, but he is awake and ready to leave.
Blaise is ready to leap off into the night to spread good dreams when vines leap out of the stonework, entrapping him.
“What the hell?! Harry-“
His words die on his tongue at the look on Harry’s face. Half hidden in the shadows, Harry looks harsh, thin, and pale. No one says anything, but they all see how badly Harry has been affected.
If Blaise left, it would hurt him.
“Okay, I’ll stay,” he says, “I promise,” he adds.
The vines recedes and Harry slinks back into the shadows; his footsteps echoing in the darkness.
Blaise wonders if there is any hope left at all.
—————————————————————
Jack does not pick a second, not an official one at least. Elsa is the designated winter spirit and the only one who is capable of performing the duties of Old Man Winter. The title, she tells them, still belongs to Jack as he didn’t issue a challenge for it. She, however, will make sure winter and all the joy surrounding it, will continue until Jack returns.
“You’ll have to get up to the workshop at some point, Draco.”
Draco looks down shamefully but nods. Blaise thumps him on his back, agreeing with the queen. Draco has stayed up for almost three nights, making toys-out of wood, ice, and stone. Each one is more beautiful than the last, but Blaise can hardly walk in their dorm.
Much like Blaise, Harry had wrapped Draco up in vines when he’d tried to leave.
Draco understood his friend, but his heart was tearing itself in two. He couldn’t disappoint the children. He wouldn’t.
Elsa looks at Pansy, who is wearing a large cardigan, the tubes of memories peeking out from the pocket. Her other pocket is weighed down by the teeth she hasn’t sorted yet. There are fairies constantly moving around her and Pansy can no longer concentrate in class. Every time she looks at someone, she sees the memories hidden within their teeth.
Severus has had to give her private classes.
Elsa sighs, looking at the courtyard for a moment, before spotting the young Bunnymund. She grimaces, his uniform is hanging off of his frame and his hair is knotted.
“He needs the Warren,”
“He won’t go. Professor Snape has even tried,”
Elsa sees the entire group shudder; the fight had been terrible with Harry spending the night in the Forbidden Forest. Severus had waited for ten minutes before running after his betrothed mate and dragging him to the castle.
For a moment it had been quiet before the forest shook with such a force that the centaurs had run towards Hogwarts, fearing for their lives. Severus had levitated his mate out of the forest, limping horribly.
Elsa sighed, “The other Pooka’s can’t sustain it for long. If he doesn’t go back soon, he’s going to die.”
Elsa leaves in a snow flurry.
No one knows what to do about Harry.
—————————————————————
Harry is tired of being at Hogwarts, of hearing the whispers and seeing the looks his friends give him, because they don’t know.
Heavy is the crown the king wears, he scoffed. A crown was nothing compared to this.
He didn’t know what to do; it was easier to be angry. Easier to hurt and easier if he did nothing. School didn’t matter, the food all tasted awful, so he barely ate and eventually, everyone stopped yelling at him.
Except Severus.
Every night the man would spell nutrient potion after nutrient potion into his stomach, blood replenishers, and pepper up.
“I won’t lose you because you don’t care! I care, you silly fool!”
Harry knew he was being foolish, but he was scared. His Da-the Easter Bunny-thought he could handle the hope? How could he measure up? How could he think that Harry was able to do this?!
Why did anyone rely on him?!
Harry hit the ground in anger, a bloom of thorns burst from the spot, catching him off guard as blood welled up from the cut. It wasn’t deep, so he wasn’t going to bother Madam Pomfrey for a plaster. He swiped his tongue across the cut a few times, until it stopped.
“How much longer are you gonna be useless?”
Not expecting anyone, Harry jumped into the air, spinning around to face Marcus. The burly tall teen was in his seventh year forced upon him to pass or find a job. Marcus was more than amused; he knew he could pass easily, but always enjoyed making the faculty sweat a bit.
To him, it was one big quidditch game and right now, his seeker was too blind to see anything.
“Wha?”
Marcus stalked towards him, finger jabbing his chest with each word, “You! Are! Useless! Bunnymund!”
Harry scrambled back, tripping over a stray twig, landing on his backside, “I-I-“
“You what?! Speak up!”
Marcus knew that he pushed Harry just a little bit, the boy would explode and let them in. He hated doing this.
“It has to be you, Marcus! Who else could get a rise out of him?!” Draco exclaimed, hands thrown up in the air.
“Snape could get a rise out-“
“No! You do it or we’re gonna lose him!” Pansy cried.
Lately all Pansy had been doing was crying- no one had figured out it was because of the teeth. Some memories were too precious.
Marcus looked around the room; Draco had been working nearly day and night, making toys-his hands were plastered and red, calluses forming. Blaise was up all night wandering the halls and common rooms, keeping the nightmares at bay. Whenever he could, he’d head up to the Astronomy Tower and let the sand travel on the winds, reaching where he could.
He sighed and nodded, hoping that whatever cure the Warren could provide would be enough for them all.
Marcus watches Harry, waiting-he’s not worried about getting hurt, he’s worried about the kid pulling a Gryffindor and running into the woods.
Just because he can.
Harry balls his fists up, and Marcus sees for the first time, the faint glow of his markings before they fade.
The ground beneath them cracks and splits and Harry is shaking. Marcus sees the ground roll, tremble, reassemble itself and break again; sees the flowers and vines grow and wither and come back and burst into color and then into nothing.
“Why’d Da think I could?! I can’ be HIM!”
“He didn’t ask you to, just to keep hope alive,”
“IT HURTS!”
“If it does that, that means you’ve still got hope and that’s worth fighting for, don't you think? Everyone that’s been chosen is ready, are you ready or are you gonna wallow away because hope hurts?”
Marcus walked away from the boy, each step more painful than the last, but he knew that he’d left Harry with a lot to think of. He only hoped that he’d listen.
—————————————————————
Severus found Harry sitting in front of the fireplace; that in itself wasn’t odd, what was odd was that the words hadn’t alerted him to his presence.
“Harry?”
The boy said nothing, only standing and moving aside, revealing the patch of sweet grass he’d been sitting on.
“Home….it’s still there…”
He used a tunnel?
Severus smiled and nodded, “It will always be there, it was waiting for you,”
Slowly, he turned towards Severus and he could see the markings glowing, the grass spreading out to every nook and cranny in his living space, filling the air with their sweet scent.
Harry closed his eyes-the steady thump-thump-thump of Hope echoing in the room, the very thing his Da asked him to protect and keep alive.
Hope is that thing with wings that keeps going even after falling down.
“We have to go-all of us,”
Harry tapped his foot twice, opening up several tunnels at once and leapt down without fear, Severus and Hedwig following immediately.