Days Gone By

Sighing, Steve erased the line he’d drawn for the tenth time and glared up at the Christmas tree like it was at fault for the fact that he couldn’t seem to get this sketch right. He knew it wasn’t the conifer, but that didn’t improve his attitude.

In spite of the lights from the decorations and the sweet smell of his mom’s baked goods wafting through the house, Steve was in a terrible mood. They were supposed to have Christmas with the Barneses this year, same as every other year since he and Bucky had started at Hogwarts, only for that rug to get pulled out from under them three days ago when Bucky had been whisked away by their teachers and hadn’t returned. Coulson had come to see them not long after, explaining that Bucky had to leave early but not why. That was the part where his mom started worrying when he told her, and she’d sent an owl off to Winifred and George immediately.

No response had come.

That was more than enough to make Steve nervous without the addition of the fact that Bucky should have been able to text him if he was at home. That or he would have at least answered the ones Steve had sent. Instead, they sat in his sent messages screen above the little notification that said it had been delivered but not read. If Bucky really had gone home the way Coulson claimed, why wasn’t he responding?

Regardless of the reason, it looked like it would be just him and his mom this year the way it used to be. He loved his mom, but the situation surrounding whatever was going on had definitely dampened his mood.

“Steve, will you come here and help me?” he heard his mother call from the kitchen.

Glowering down at his sketchbook, Steve called a quick affirmative reply before tearing out the page he’d been working on and crumpling it into a ball for the garbage can. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind for creating art right now anyway.

In the kitchen, his mom was at the island grating carrots and celery to put in the turkey stuffing. She glanced up at him for a second before jerking her head towards the stove.

“Do me a favor and stir the pot?”

Steve grunted and obeyed, slopping a bit of soup out over the edge where it dripped down to the burner and sizzled. There was a sigh behind him.

“You know, I’m sure everything’s fine,” she reassured him in a way that was probably meant to be placating but actually ended up making his temper worse.

“You don’t know that,” he grumbled back.

The sound of chopping stopped and then his mom was coming up on his right, leaning against the counter and watching him as he studiously avoided her gaze. Neither of them said anything for a minute or two while Steve kept stirring until she took the spoon gently from his hand and placed it on a paper towel on the counter.

“Listen,” she told him, putting a finger under his chin to force him to meet her eyes. When she spoke this time, it was more like she was treating him as an equal instead of just a kid. “I know you’re worried. So am I. But we have to trust that everything’s okay until we hear otherwise. If something was wrong, I think Professor Coulson would have told you.”

“Unless he was told not to,” argued Steve heatedly.

She shrugged a shoulder with a nod that said okay, fair point.

“What if something happened to Winnie or George? Or Becca?” he demanded, knowing there were no answers to his questions but asking regardless. “What if something happened and he’s not home and that’s why he hasn’t answered any of my te—“

“Steve.” His mom put her hands on both his shoulders and gripped tightly, her face somber. “There are so many what ifs, sweetie. Until we hear from someone, we’re not going to know for sure and it’s not worth getting upset over. If something happened, someone would let us know. If anything happened to Bucky’s parents, you can bet we’d be the first to know, and not just because I’m his second emergency contact on pretty much everything just like his parents are for you.”

Steve opened his mouth to refute that, but nothing came out. Everything she’d said made perfect sense no matter how much he hated it.

Seeing that he had no rebuttal, his mom’s mouth quirked up at the side and she continued more softly, “So until we hear anything, let’s not worry over what’s probably nothing. Let’s just have a good Christmas and a good vacation before you go back to school. Okay?”

Lowering his gaze to the floor, Steve nodded his head and tried to put a smile back on his face. He already didn’t see enough of his mom as it was when he was at Hogwarts for such a huge chunk of the year. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the time they did have together by being a sourpuss over not getting to spend the holidays with Bucky’s family.

So, after taking a deep breath, Steve put a mostly genuine smile on his face and asked, “If I say yes, do I get a cookie early?”

Admittedly, the swat he got to the back of the head was deserved.

***

Steve somehow managed to get through the holidays without thinking about the Barneses too much, but his worries came flooding back when they arrived at King’s Cross to find that Bucky and his family were nowhere to be found. They’d spotted everyone else: Clint with his brother Barney, Sam and his parents, and T’Challa with his father. Peggy was catching up with Daniel further up the platform, and he could see Darcy and Angie chatting animatedly in one of the carriages already. All the familiar faces he knew would be there were—all except one.

“Mom?” he began slowly, glancing up to see that her own brow was furrowed as she scanned the crowd the way he’d been doing. When she realized his attention was on her, however, she tried to plaster a neutral expression in place.

“Maybe he took a Portkey back,” was her excuse this time, although it didn’t roll so easily off her tongue. The words were stilted as she attempted to inconspicuously keep searching the throng for any member of the Barnes clan. “If he left early, he probably had to take one anyway. It wouldn’t be totally out there that he took one back instead of the train.”

She doesn’t believe that.

If she thought he’d missed the fact that she jumped to get the post every morning only to slump when there weren’t any letters from a particular someone, she was sorely mistaken. If she thought she was being subtle when she asked if he’d gotten any texts or messages from his friends, she was wrong.

If she thought he wasn’t going to realize that there was something to worry about now, she obviously didn’t realize who she’d raised.

“Mom, something’s wrong.”

There was a brief pause before she sighed, “Something’s wrong.”

They continued inspecting the assemblage in silence for a few more minutes until the warning whistle blew and everyone began bidding their families a final farewell before boarding the train. They waited even longer than that, but there was still no sign and Steve had to leave. He waved to his mom from the carriage the way he always did, albeit slightly more lonely this time.

Unfortunately, the tiny spark of hope that maybe Bucky had gotten in touch with one of their other friends (which would piss him off but hey, at least he’d know what was happening) was extinguished almost as soon as it had arisen. Sam and Clint said they hadn’t heard from him; even T’Challa, with his position in Wakanda and a father who knew Winnie personally, could only shake his head regretfully when asked.

The ride to Hogwarts was a much quieter affair than in years past. Peggy and some of their other friends dropped in to say hi, but none of them were the one they were waiting for. The seat to Steve’s left remained empty, and Igorha played alone for the first time in a while.

***

“Professor Coulson!” Steve called over (or, really, through) the heads of his classmates as they made their way to their respective dormitories. The last bastion of hope he and his mom had been fostering was dashed when he arrived to find that Bucky wasn’t at Hogwarts and never arrived to dinner. Most of the professors hadn’t been present, so he’d waited almost two hours to get answers—excuse him for pushing a few people to get to the head of Hufflepuff house before he vanished for the evening.

Coulson turned at the sound of his name, frowning as Steve, Sam, Clint, and T’Challa approached him. “Is everything all right?”

“Have you see—“

“Where’s Bucky?” demanded Steve, plowing right over what he was sure would be a very diplomatic and patient inquiry from Sam. He couldn’t bring himself to feel all that bad about it, though.

“Mr. Barnes?” clarified Coulson blankly. The tiny dent between his eyebrows told Steve he was playing stupid, which did absolutely nothing to douse the ember that had been lit in his gut and screamed danger.

“He’s not here,” Steve explained, narrowing his eyes. “He wasn’t on the train and none of us have heard from him. You said he’d be back after the holidays, so where is he?”

“Steve, man, chill,” whispered Sam furiously, looking to Clint and T’Challa for backup only to find they weren’t going to offer any.

Coulson looked between the three of them before his gaze shifted back to the angry asshole Steve knew he was being. It occurred to him in the back of his mind that he was being ridiculously disrespectful, and it would be completely within Coulson’s right to give him detention for his behavior. He simply didn’t care: he’d spend the next four years in detention if that was what it took to find out what the fuck had happened to Bucky and his family.

His thoughts were probably showing on his face, because for the first time since they approached him, Coulson started to look uncomfortable.

Good.

The vicious sense of satisfaction he felt, however, was short-lived. Coulson’s expression turned remorseful as he stated calmly, “Mr. Barnes will not be returning to Hogwarts.”

“What?!”

This time, it wasn’t Steve who blurted something out without a thought to the consequences of his tone—it was Sam.

Now that he was with them, Clint backed him up, “What the hell do you mean he’s not coming back?”

“Watch your language, Mr. Barton,” warned Professor Coulson.

“Professor, can you please tell us why he’s not coming back?” inquired T’Challa politely, appearing collected in spite of the flash of anger Steve could see in his eyes. Steve had always figured being the son of a king meant he got everything he wanted, so having a teacher deliberately keeping information from them when it involved someone they cared about was probably agonizing for Luke to tolerate.

There was a pause where Coulson seemed to be thinking about what he was going to say, but after a long moment he apologized, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any other information than that.”

“Man, that’s bullshit—“

“Mr. Barton!”

“You know he’s not here, but you don’t know why? Don’t they have to give you reasons for shit like that?!” Clint continued heedlessly.

“That’s enough, Mr. Barton,” Coulson cut him off before he could continue on his tirade. “I’ve given you all the information I have. If you have any other questions, you can see Professor Fury but at this time, I don’t have any other answers to give you and it’s past curfew.”

Clint opened his mouth, probably to tell him where he could stick his curfew, when T’Challa put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“We will see Professor Fury tomorrow, then,” he agreed, giving Clint a little shove back towards the door to the kitchens and Hufflepuff common room. “Thank you, Professor.”

They were fortunate enough that Clint waited until they were out of earshot before he (quietly) exploded, “What the fuck? He totally kn—“

“If you keep harassing him, we’re going to get more than just nothing,” scolded T’Challa, his expression brooking no argument. “We’ll go to Fury tomorrow. If Coulson is telling us he doesn’t know anything, it’s probably because Fury has told him not to answer any questions.”

“Yeah, and what makes you think Fury will say anything if he didn’t want Coulson to?” scoffed Sam, shaking his head in disbelief.

Steve and T’Challa exchanged a glance that contained an entire silent conversation. Fury was the only person at Hogwarts, professor or otherwise, who knew that he wasn’t just any student. If anyone was most likely to get answers out of him, it was T’Challa.

“Luke’s right,” muttered Steve, hating the bitterness of the words as they left his mouth.

Sam and Clint gaped at him, the latter breathing, “You’re actually okay with this?”

“Of course I’m not okay with it,” snapped Steve furiously. He attempted to calm down a bit before continuing, “But we’re not going to get anything tonight anyway. Let’s just… We’ll talk to Fury.”

“Correction: we will talk to Fury,” amended Sam, pointing from himself to Steve and T’Challa. “Hothead here’s gonna get himself expelled if he talks like that in Fury’s office.”

The jab got a chuckle out of them at least, and they reluctantly separated to their own dormitories for the night. In Gryffindor Tower, however, Steve never did manage to get to sleep. All he could think about was how hard things had been for Bucky this year since his mom had announced wanting to run for Minister. Everything—the article, the jeers from people whose parents weren’t on board with what Winnie wanted, the harassment from Tony about his inventions that might help the campaign—was so fucked up.

The situation didn’t get any better when Fury told them the reason for Bucky’s disenrollment was confidential. No amount of pleading or diplomacy or outright cursing (because they hadn’t left Clint behind, but Fury didn’t even flinch which just made them feel more suspicious about the situation) could sway him.

It only got worse when his mom wrote to tell him the Ministry refused to say why all her owls were being sent back undelivered.

It was like Bucky and his family had vanished off the face of the planet, leaving the world a darker place in their wake.