Apparently I had written some Exolvo? (Harry Potter x Frozen)
Just found this buried in my computer, apparently I wrote some Exolvo! It’s clearly not finished, but it’s getting me all excited again for this crossover. I believe I have this leaving off from when Elsa and Harry were in Umbridge’s office writing lines with that special quill as punishment? She had to take off her gloves to write lines and kinda freaked…
“Are you serious?” Ron asked skeptically, his words muffled from the breakfast he was stuffing into his mouth. “Crying? Of course, we know something’s off about that one, but it’s certainly nothing to cry over.”
“I know,” Harry nodded, reaching for a roll, “but yes, I am serious. It was like…” he trailed off, trying to remember what he had witnessed. “It was like she thought she was about to be tortured.” He cringed, remembering the look of sheer panic and terror on Elsa Arendelle’s face- her wide, blue eyes, the tears pooling in them as she bit her lip and seemed to struggle to take in regular breaths.
The image of her face had stuck with him since last night; he was quite sure he’d never seen such emotion displayed upon the blonde’s face. As far as he could remember, the eldest Arendelle had always kept a very neutral expression, or, in the months after her boggart incident, no expression at all. To witness such sheer panic emanating from the girl was shocking. Her anxiety had been extreme and palpable; Harry had begun to feel nervous just watching the scenario play out in front of him.
“….and? Did she take them off?” Ron asked. “Were her hands deformed or something? Missing fingernails? Claws of a beast?” He raised his hands, mimicking a lion about to swipe a clawed paw.
Hermione leaned forward, eager to hear what Harry had seen. She was curious- she’d always wondered why Anna’s sister wore gloves, though Anna herself had told her that Elsa supposedly just ‘had a thing about dirt.’ Hermione wasn’t sure if she bought that, though.
Harry shook his head. “That’s the thing. They were…” his brow furrowed. “…completely, utterly normal.”
Hermione loudly let out the breath she had been holding. Ron looked disappointed that there was no secret deformity.
“So that’s it, then?” Hermione asked. “She just took them off and wrote her lines with you?”
“Kind of, yeah,” Harry began to explain. “She sorta…seemed to meditate for a bit, closed her eyes and took deep breaths and all. And then sat down and started writing. She was breathing heavily the whole time but otherwise seemed fine. I don’t know what happened at the end, I left before she was finished.”
“Strange.” Hermione added, clearly deep in thought. She was spreading jam on her toast mindlessly, moving it back and forth over the bread while her thoughts were elsewhere. She finally took a few bites, then stood up from the table. “C’mon, let’s get going. We have a class to get to.”
Hermione was still deep in thought over what Harry had relayed to her and Ron as she found herself a seat in her ancient runes class. She was so immersed in her thoughts that she very nearly missed the hushed murmurs of the two Slytherin girls behind her.
“—to hide these bags under my eyes, Arendelle woke us all up again last night.”
“Again, really? Blimey, that’s what, the second time this month? Why can’t they just give her a private room or something already, spare the rest of you?”
Hermione’s ears perked up at yet another mention of the same girl who had been occupying her thoughts. Elsa Arendelle was waking the Slytherins up? Why? It seemed so unlike the quiet, unassuming girl that Hermione couldn’t help but ease her curiosity. She turned around in her chair, feeling a sense of relief when she saw the first speaker was Tracey Davis, a Slytherin she used to tutor last year.
“Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude or interrupt, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” Hermione began, meeting Tracey and her friend’s surprised expressions with a serious one of her own. “That sounds terribly annoying- why is she waking you all up?”
Tracey and her friend exchanged glances- this was a Gryffindor they were about to spill house secrets to, after all…but Tracey remembered how kind Hermione had been to her when she had been struggling with some of her classes, how the girl often went over her scheduled time to teach and go over concepts with her. Granger didn’t seem like one to go around spreading rumors- she was just the type to want them for herself. At least, that’s the conclusion her sleep-deprived brain came to, anyway.
“Well…” Tracey began, pointedly ignoring her friends’ glare, “she isn’t doing it on purpose, at least. She sometimes has these…I don’t know, nightmares? I guess I would call them that,” she said, questioningly. “She’ll start tossing and turning in bed, crying pretty loudly, and starts calling out for her sister and yelling things like, ‘no!’ or, ‘I’m sorry!’”
Tracey’s friend began snickering, rolling her eyes and attempting to cover her mouth. “I think one of you should just smother her with a pillow. That’ll make her shut up.”
“Ohmigosh, no,” Tracey started, eyes wide. “A couple times some of the girls came over to stop her, or maybe comfort her that one time it was Tabitha, I don’t know- but she freaked. Like someone was about to stab her or something.”
Hermione’s eyes went wide. “What? What do you mean?”
Tracey thought back to that time, and did her best to explain it to Hermione:
“Mmnngh,” Tracey mumbled, turning over as she was awakened by rustling sheets and someone’s voice.
Pulling herself into a sitting position to see what the ruckus was, she shivered, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulders. When did it get so cold in the dormitory? Maybe someone left the window open again…
Her mind was brought back to the present by the cries of a bunkmate below, a few beds over from herself. Out of Tracey’s peripheral vision she could tell that other girls were starting to waken, too, startled awake from the disturbance below.
“No, PLEASE! I- mmngh…” Elsa Arendelle was writhing in her sheets again. Tracey could hear her panting breaths and see her hands fisting in the linens, curling in and out repeatedly. “ANNA!”
By this point, a couple girls were watching the struggling one- some with interest, some with annoyance. Others had concern written across their faces while others were covering their mouths with laughter at the blonde’s antics.
Tracey watched as Tabitha, who had the misfortune of sleeping next to Elsa, carefully got out of her own bed and padded over to her neighbor’s bottom bunk. She sat down beside her, avoiding a twisting arm flying in her direction, and gently placed a hand on Elsa’s shoulder.
“Elsa, ssh, wake up, it’s alright.” She shook the girl’s shoulder lightly. “C’mon, sshh. Everything’s okay.”
Elsa jerked up from her bed with a harsh gasp. Her gaze alighted on her friend sitting next to her- touching her. She jumped back, until her shoulders were pressing against the headboard.
“Stay away from me! Get back!” She tried to yell the words, but her voice wasn’t cooperating, hoarse and panting as she was.
Tracey watched the interaction with piqued curiosity.
“Elsa, what-” Tabitha started.
“Just go! Stay away from me- please!” Elsa squeaked out the last word, and started patting the bed around her frantically.
Tracey broke off from telling what she had witnessed. “After that time, the girls have just woken her up from afar. No use working her up even more than she already is.”
“I guess,” her friend conceded, “plus, if her third year experience tells us anything, maybe there’s a reason we should be staying away, besides.”
Though Hermione couldn’t help but agree with that last statement, she chose to instead focus on another aspect of the retelling. “So she was looking for her gloves in the bed?” She asked.
“Yes,” Tracey replied, “but I don’t see why. She’s always wearing them, anyways.”
That couldn’t be, Hermione thought. “Always? As in, literally never takes them off?”
“Well, no, not literally, I suppose.” Tracey shook her head. “She takes them off in the bathroom, and to wash her hands, to shower- you know, whenever you’d need to have bare hands.” She thought, lips pursed. “I don’t know what the deal is, really.”
“Well, I haven’t, no,” Tracey responded. “But others have. She’s a germaphobe, or so she says. Doesn’t like to touch things others have touched. Her hands look just fine; she’s not hiding anything under there.”
Hermione nodded, still perplexed. She opened her mouth to ask another question but at that moment their professor walked in. “Thanks,” she said instead. “I hope you get better sleep tonight!”
It was the beginning of potions class.
Long tapered fingers in their white fabric covering flipped through pages of a textbook. Ink stains dotted the gloves.
Hermione wondered from across the room how many pairs Elsa Arendelle must own. They must get stained often with all their schoolwork.
“Today,” Snape boomed, suddenly at the front of the classroom, “we will be learning how to make a Pepperup potion. Turn to pages 112 of your books. All ingredients are available to you in the usual location-” he gestured to some shelves and tables to the left – “Turn your vials into me at the end of the class. You may begin.”
Students scrambled to gather ingredients but Snape interrupted once more.
“On second thought, let’s make this a little more…interesting,” he drawled, black eyes glittering. “I want you all partnered with someone of the other house. All Gryffindors find a Slytherin to work with.”
What?! The class was in uproar. Hermione rolled her eyes and groaned. Why should I have to work with one of those idiots?!
Very slowly, students started to pair off, begrudgingly dragging their feet to find a partner they didn’t despise too much. Ron found himself paired with Blaise Zabini, and Hermione watched Harry sigh and wait for whoever was left from the other house to join.
Who on earth am I supposed to work with? Hermione thought. God forbid she would have to listen to Pansy Parkinson’s vapid commentary, or have to suffer through Milicent Bulstrode smacking her gum throughout the class. She also dreaded doing all of the work if she didn’t want her potions grade to suffer.
She scanned the room, her eyes finally falling on Elsa Arendelle, who remained in her seat still, looking a little stunned and wary at Snape’s pronouncement. Their eyes met, and before Arendelle could show signs of objection, Hermione jumped up from her seat and headed to sit by Elsa. At least I won’t fail the assignment if I’m with her.
Hermione plopped down in the empty seat next to Elsa, who backed up a little bit in her seat, eyes wide.
“We’re working together,” Hermione told the blonde matter-of-factly, her tone brooking no room for argument or discussion. “Let’s just get through this.”
Elsa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She did look tired, Hermione noted. I guess she couldn’t fall back to sleep after the nightmare. Arendelle’s eyes had smudges of grey-blue below them and her teeth worried her lower lip.
“Fine,” Elsa said, rising to retrieve their ingredients.
So, whattaya think? Total trash or should I continue? I remember what I had in mind next for this scene and Hermione starts to piece together what Elsa is hiding…
By the way, I know I got the idea from someone about Harry and Elsa writing lines with that quill but it’s been so long I forget who- if it’s you let me know so I can give credit!
