Days Gone By

“Candy corn is actually quite nice,” mused Thor with a Who’d Have Thought? expression on his face. For a Gryffindor, he’d been surprisingly reluctant the last five years to give it a try, but Scott and Skye had finally bullied him into it.

Steve grimaced, glaring down at the bowl of candy in distaste. “I can’t believe you really like that stuff.”

“Hey, don’t diss the candy corn,” argued Scott as if Steve was committing some kind of cardinal sin for speaking against it. “It’s a Halloween tradition, come on.”

“It doesn’t even have any taste to it!” he exclaimed. “It’s just straight sugar.”

“I fail to see your problem with that,” snorted Skye, leaning over Scott to grab a handful.

Steve simply rolled his eyes, knowing a lost battle when he saw one. Even when he was a kid, he’d never cared for the kinds of candy that were essentially just sugar with little other flavor (or nutritional value, if his more grown-up sensibilities were being honest). His mom would never buy the stuff, stocking the house full of chocolate or fruit candies at this time of year instead; he and Bucky could make quick work of those, but neither of them would touch the demon spawn that was candy corn.

Don’t think about that, he sighed internally. It had always been difficult to remember things about Bucky since he’d gone into hiding with his family during their third year, but in the last couple of months those recollections had proven to be unbearable. He didn’t fight them, though; it would be a dark day indeed when Steve fucking Rogers was said to be afraid to face his own memories. That didn’t mean he wanted to think about dead loved ones on Halloween and tempt whatever ghostly fate might exist in the world either. It was a good day. Surely Bucky wouldn’t begrudge him a grief-free holiday?

Please, he’d encourage it.

So, pushing thoughts of his best friend aside, Steve pasted a mostly sincere smile in place and allowed himself to be pulled into the debate over the best kinds of junk food that had apparently been waging around him while he’d been lost in his own head.

Until, that is, someone screamed.

It had finally gotten to the point where he hardly reacted except to turn around in his seat to see where it had come from this time. Tony had never gotten tired of his stupid pranks, especially the Halloween-themed ones, and it happened like clockwork every year. Mercifully, this would be the last time unless he somehow convinced some poor sap to pull it off for him remotely.

...Actually, that sounds exactly like something he would do, he mused with a silent grimace. They were apparently going to need to have a talk at some point before the end of term about that…

More shrieks were sounding off all around them, and Steve actually had to admit that this was a…pretty weird prank. The illusions this year almost looked real, and it wasn’t until his attention was caught by some demon octopus at the Hufflepuff table that he realized they weren’t illusions. One mighty tentacle sent Angie, Yasha, and Jarvis flying on one side before Sam and Clint met the same fate on the other. Skye was up like a shot, sprinting over to the Hufflepuff table.

Steve hauled himself out of his seat, planning to help however he could, and turned—

The Great Hall was empty.

Frowning, Steve’s eyes darted all over the room as if this was part of the prank, but there really was no one anywhere. When he took a step forward, there wasn’t even a sound as his foot met the stone floor. The air was still, stagnant, the stench of fear and loneliness all around him.

“What the—“ His jaw snapped shut when even his own voice made no noise.

There was no way everyone could have vanished so quickly, not at Hogwarts where it was at least mostly safe. Tony couldn’t have done that no matter how good he was at spells and inventions. There was no arguing that he was alone, though, and a small, unfamiliar voice in the back of his head told him it was his own fault. It made no sense—how could this be his fault when he didn’t even know what was happening?

Because you let this happen, that same voice whispered once again. Steve whirled around, hoping to see that it was someone standing behind him, but there was no one there. You could have stopped it and you did nothing. Everyone’s gone, just like Bucky. Just like his family. Just like Dad. They’re all gone and you didn’t do anything to keep it from happening.

Steve stumbled backward with the weight of the accusation and fell back into his seat. The bench didn’t move; he made no sound, not even a rustle of cloth as his robes shifted. The silence was unmarred by his presence, a ghost doomed to wander the world alone without ever truly belonging anywhere because all the people he knew and loved were long gone. Had they ever been there at all?

“No,” he growled soundlessly, forcing himself back from the haze of guilt and despair that was clawing at his heart even as he struggled out of its grasp. “This can’t be real. This isn’t my fault, and it’s not real.”

“Steve?”

Like the flip of a switch, it felt as if his eardrums were suddenly ruptured despite how quiet it was. This wasn’t the same as the void he’d been trapped in, though: this was the silence that could only come from a group of people that had just experienced a shock.

And in the middle of all of it, he became aware that Peggy was crouched before him, both her hands framing his face while she gazed worriedly into his eyes.

“Peggy,” he breathed. She wasn’t anticipating it when he practically lunged forward to hug her, burying his face in her shoulder with a shuddering breath.

Slim fingers brushed the back of his neck soothingly while her voice whispered that it would be all right, that none of what he must have seen was real. He knew that—he did—but he still couldn’t shake the sensation of being entirely formless, empty but for the shame that tore at his heart in that lonely place.

“It wasn’t real,” he murmured, feeling Peggy nod against his shoulder.

“It wasn’t real,” she confirmed immediately.

“It wasn’t my fault…”

“No, darling.” Her hand moved up into his hair while her arms pulled him closer. She couldn’t know what he was talking about, but her tone still bore all the confidence in the world as she reassured him, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Steve didn’t know how long they remained like that before guilt began to gnaw at him in a different way—Peggy was still kneeling before him, and that couldn’t possibly be comfortable on the stone floor of the Great Hall. Sniffing, he pulled away to help her to her feet as Fury gave the order for them to get the fuck out of there unless they needed the hospital wing.

Although he was still shaken, Steve knew he didn’t. There were plenty of people, however, who weren’t fortunate enough to say the same. Some had obviously fallen over themselves or their demons in an effort to retreat and were limping or holding limbs with gentle fingers. Beside the Hufflepuff table, he noticed Pietro and Jarvis hauling Yasha off the floor, the latter’s eyes unfocused as he visibly trembled in his friends’ arms. Steve felt a pang of sympathy when he saw that Yasha couldn’t even walk on his own and needed to be carried out, probably to the hospital wing if Pietro and Jarvis were smart. Natasha was with them, though, so he had no doubt Yasha would get the help he needed. Distantly, Steve wondered what could have been bad enough to make someone react so terribly when it felt like what he had seen was the worst thing in the world.

He abandoned the thought as selfish the moment it occurred to him, thoroughly disgusted with himself. Just because he feared his own impotence didn’t mean that was the worst thing that could happen to someone. And from the looks of things, Yasha would probably agree.

“Come on,” prodded Peggy, guiding him towards the entrance hall. “We should get to bed before Fury has a conniption.”

Chuckling breathlessly, Steve nodded in agreement as his eyes found Tony and Fury standing together in the middle of the room. “I think whatever Stark’s afraid of most is going to change after tonight.”