#hp!frozen

[vuelie]

exolvo: Molly and The Kids

***

Just an old edit of something I wrote yeaaaaars ago. I think I’m gonna start writing again. I love this for me! ***

An ocean of people, old and young alike flooded King’s Cross Station as the doors from each of the wagons flew open, releasing a herd of excited students. Laughter and warmth filled the air, creating a cheerful atmosphere that matched the ornaments adorning the already festive surroundings. Relatives greeted the incoming students with hugs galore, friends and classmates gave each other high fives and early presents, and the sound of bags and luggage being hauled away scratched through snow-covered pavement. It was a glorious scene that added to the anticipation of having hot cocoa during cold nights of doing nothing but spending time with family and friends.

It was finally Christmas break and Molly had been looking forward to this for months. Gathering her children in her arms, she gave each of them forehead kisses, her hugs dispelling the bite of winter’s air.

“My goodness! How I’ve missed you!” she exclaimed, relief washing over as she mentally noted their appearances — still in tact and in one piece. “But where’s Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Anna?” It only took a few seconds for Molly to realize that her children didn’t get out of the train in their usual complete set. Harry, Hermione, and Anna were hers, too. Her children. Where were they?

Fred rolled his eyes. “Aww, mum. We’re not good enough for you?” He teased, feigning insult before dramatically clutching his chest. “George, Ginny, and I are the only ones you need!”

“I’m serious, Fred. Where are your other siblings?” Molly glared before standing on her tippy toes in an attempt to scan the crowd for the missing children. Before she could ask another question, Ginny gently grabbed her by the shoulders. “Mum, they’re fine,” she smiled, rubbing her hands up and down her mother’s arms. “They’re a bit delayed because Anna stayed a little longer to make her rounds of literally giving the entire Gryffindor house presents. Hagrid’s coming over to drop them off at our place later.” Molly studied her daughter’s face to catch any sign of lying but saw none. Dropping her doubts, she shook her head and chuckled before placing a hand on Ginny’s cold cheek.

“Oh, Anna. That one has always been so kind and generous.” The doting mother grinned fondly at the thought of her other daughter, the “youngest” of her three girls. Hermione being the eldest, Ginny following after, and then Anna. Molly treated her children’s friends as her own. She did not care how small her house was, and how low finances can be; she made sure that each and every one of them received presents while having a home to stay in during the holidays and whenever they wanted to.

Even though she was grateful for her ever growing family, Molly had another wayward child that she longed for to come home. Filtering out the noises surrounding her, she cast her gaze on Elsa Arendelle, a lone figure standing by the corner of the platform. “Gin, would you happen to know where Elsa’s heading for the holidays?”

Ginny glanced at her mother, following her probing stare. “Mum, who cares? She’s probably going to Norway and lock herself in her room. That’s all she does in school anyway,” she sneered, not even bothering to care whether Elsa could hear her or not.

George squinted his eyes and straightened his fingers over them like a visor. “I think Miss Arendelle will be spending Christmas by herself, mother,” he concluded pensively, frowning at Elsa’s direction. “I do believe Hermione extended your invitation to her,” he added when he heard his mum sigh, “but of course… it was declined.”

Ginny and George exchanged looks, elbowing Fred to say something to somehow make light of the silence that blanketed them. Once he saw an opportunity, he seized Ginny and George’s arms towards a Hufflepuff infested area on the opposite side of the platform. Quickly blabbering about the Hamada boys and something about fried chicken, Fred had succeeded in whisking his siblings away from their mother and her inquiries about a pariah that half the school seemed to despise.

Whoever it was that Elsa was waiting for hadn’t arrived yet. Molly once again observed Elsa as she wrapped herself around her torso, scrutinizing her shoes or whatever dirt that was on the floor. My dear, what is going on with you?

It would’ve been easier to just walk away. She had her own kids and not-really kids to care for and nurture. Why add another one in the mix when she could barely fit them all in her tiny home? No one would fault her if she turned around. No one would notice.

But right then and there, she was reminded of a Ravenclaw that bore the same eyes as those of the Slytherin girl standing just a few feet away from her. The resemblance was uncanny. It was as if she was standing in front of the same Ravenclaw that befriended her, defended her, and came to her aid countless times without asking for anything in return all those years ago.

Iduna. How could she abandon Iduna’s eldest child?

Molly brushed away a stubborn tear with the back of her hand. Without realizing what her body was doing, her feet moved as if they had a life of their own, heading towards the emptiest corner of the platform where the ghost of her deceased best friend stood idle and alone.

“Hello, dear,” Molly said in an almost whisper, careful not to startle the blonde girl. Elsa’s head snapped back up, her mouth dropping by the slightest bit, eyebrows slowly rising up underneath her fringes. She looked so much like Iduna, and my god, those freckles reminded Molly of a younger and sun-kissed Agnar during his Quidditch days.

Elsa didn’t say anything, but that was okay. She didn’t have to. Molly’s smile widened as she extended a hand out to her. “I haven’t seen you in a very long time, Elsa. My name is Molly Weasley. I’m your godmother.”

[vuelie]

Could you maybe humour me and maybe update your Exolvo fics because I miss your updates and I miss Elsa and Anna’s Hogwarts adventures? Maybe? 👉👈 (I love you)

“What are you doing here?”

Harry could honestly ask himself the same. It should be a simple question that should be so easy to answer; a no-brainer that doesn’t need much explanation or unnecessary analyzation. But the thing is, it’s much more complicated than what it seems because it involves an Arendelle - and anything involving an Arendelle demands more than a simple answer. So Harry thinks twice. Thrice. He opens his mouth and closes it again when vapor starts to come out. He shivers a little. It’s in the middle of summer. He doesn’t say anything.

“I’m… I’m sorry it’s so cold in here. I’ve seen them, they’re everywhere. They—”

Could it really be the dementors lurking around campus that’s causing this change in weather? Is that what Elsa really thinks as she hesitates and trips on her words? Why is she apologizing? This is Hogwarts after all, and anything bizarre, unimaginable, or illogical can make sense in such a place fueled with magic and mystery. Harry knows that all too well. He is also aware of the existence of magical people with special powers, too. Could it be… ?

Dementors. He desperately wants to agree with her, but deep down, he knows better than that just as he knows it’s better to keep some secrets buried and hidden. Hidden and unacknowledged like that lonely boy under the stairs back in Privet Drive. So he goes along with it. It’s the least that he could do for all those times Elsa passed him by the hallways without snickering. Without staring at his scar. Without a word of insult. Without a word at all. Those brief moments when they met each others’ gazes during classes, there was grace in Elsa’s eyes that others would mistake for coldness and arrogance. There was empathy and deep sadness in them that Harry couldn’t quite understand.

There is sadness in them now amidst the wariness.

So Harry chooses grace. The last thing he wants is to have Elsa walk out on him. Not here. Not now. Not when Anna’s laying unconscious in one of Madame Pomfrey’s beds.

He takes a careful step forward, trying hard not to shudder, trying hard to block out the acerbic whispers spilling from the paintings on the walls.

Dark Magic. Cursed. Monster.

“Elsa,” he starts, making his voice gentle and non-threatening as possible. “Your sister needs you. Please… please go and see her.”

[vuelie]

cracks and cloaks III

A/N: I’ve presented @blunaowl my draft, ideas, and ramblings, and she made it into something glorious. I gave her a skeleton and a brain, and she gave it muscle, skin, and heart. 

This isn’t our first collaboration - we’ve had many of those verbally where we yelled at each other and cried about Elsa and Anna - but this is definitely the first in writing that’s half Aiko and half Sarah. We’re the Fifth Spirit. LOL. 

Hope you enjoy. This is a short chapter. I love where this story is going, and I love that one of my very best friends added a whole lot of magic to it. <3

Part I Part II

*****

The idea was stupid and she knew it. Every cell in her brain was protesting at Harry Potter’s ludicrous suggestion, and she was sure that everything would go downhill if she dared entertain his nonsense. She was also positive that taking advice from a Gryffindor who seemed to spend the majority of his time defying school protocols would not do her any favors. It was stupid, Harry Potter was stupid and as Head Girl and top of her class, Elsa knew better.

So why now did she find herself hiding behind a tree in Harry Potter’s annoyingly convenient – if not slightly musty – invisibility cloak?

Hopeful and smiling, Potter’s face flashed across Elsa’s mind, and his words that she had mulled over for weeks echoed in her ears once more.

“Do you want to borrow my cloak sometime?”

His eyes had been almost pleading, boring into hers as if they were relaying a message that only she could understand, as if accepting his offer would do so much more for her than she could possibly imagine. There was no hint of malice, no subterfuge. His face was so unfairly genuine that Elsa blushed at the memory of his smile and his kindness that he had never failed to extend to her. It was a feeling she rarely felt within her own house.

Her self-deprecating thoughts and Potter’s smile were pushed aside by loud cheers reverberating from the Pitch, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep the ice at bay. She looked to the sky, and watched as the whirlwind of students dressed in red and black whizzed past in search of victory, whether it was with a steadfast throw of the quaffle, a calculated deflection of an incoming bludger, or the feeling of gold within one’s hand, warmed by the glow of the afternoon sun.

Yet despite her distance, despite their uniformity and the high speeds and sharp turns putting even the most graceful owls to shame as they pushed their broomsticks to their limits, Elsa was easily able to single out the one person she was here to see.

Anna.

Elsa’s jaw tightened, her anxiety rising as she watched her sister dart back and forth in mid-air at great speed, the intensity of the game building with every moment. Wand in hand, knuckles white, she remained ready to cast whatever spell was necessary to prevent the accident she feared might take place, but Anna was absolutely fearless, exuding confidence that Elsa had never seen before. When Anna came to a momentary pause to reassess her next move, Elsa watched as teal eyes blazed with determination, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips when the Golden Snitch flew past her.

Finally allowing herself to be a part of the audience, Elsa dared to leave her tree in exchange for a spot a few steps away from overly excited First Years chanting her sister’s name. Overwhelming pride and warmth filled Elsa’s chest with each breath, and she found herself clasping her hands more tightly around the edges of the cloak to prevent them from clapping. She was hidden in plain sight, and she wasn’t going to let her carelessness steal this moment from her.

Even though she knew she didn’t deserve it. 

Awed gasps and rapturous applause filled the stands when Anna caught the Snitch, her toothy grin the only confirmation the crowd needed. Elsa couldn’t help but allow the tears to fall at the sight of her as Anna waved the Snitch above her in victory, coming to a stop beside her classmates in the stands, blissfully unaware of her sister’s nearby presence. Her team mates roared with joy and excitement as they made their way over and Elsa watched as one of the players approached Anna, and gleefully wrapped their arms around her. 

Elsa’s smile faltered, and as if a dam had burst, the hoarfrost ascended her throat again. Watching Ginny Weasley’s display of affection stirred something in her that she hadn’t expected. Anna receiving hugs from other people shouldn’t be this painful, this heartbreaking… and this pang of jealousy that suddenly enveloped her made her feel even more pathetic.

Anna deserved warm and open hugs. She deserved friendship from someone like Ginny, and she deserved a new-found family… siblings.

As if adding more salt to her already gaping wound, Elsa bit her lip as Anna flitted a few feet away from her friend, only to reach back in invitation, their hands clasped together, Ginny holding Anna’s aloft, as they made their way back to the ground together as one.

[vuelie]

Exolvo: “Surrounded” (Hermione Granger & Elsa Arendelle)

A/N: I was browsing my WIP folder and I figured to just give this story a chance to be published here. I like crossovers, and I like the (potential) tandem between the likes of Elsa and Hermione although they’re worlds apart. There’s a sense of familiarity whenever I write about these characters and place them in Hogwarts.

It feels like home. Isn’t that what fanfiction is about? Creating worlds until you find one where you can get lost in?

I never thought I could write for this fandom again or about these two characters together—but I did. 

Thanks, @blunaowl, for not letting me give up on this completely. And for torturing me with your thoughts for a potential second chapter. Blergh.

Surrounded

Hermione watched Elsa covered her face with her hands. It was a peculiar sight, and she wasn’t even supposed to head to that direction, but she figured she could use the extra walk to clear her head. She just needed a little breathing room away from Ron and Harry, Luna’s monologues, and her very own mind that needed to stop thinking. But thoughts of solitude eluded her when she saw Elsa Arendelle through a wooden door’s window, slumped in the corner of an empty classroom, enveloped in an overwhelming stench that seeped through the cracks of the door. The odor of overcooked and burning plants or whatever it was that was inside that room caused Hermione’s nose to scrunch up, grabbing her attention and eventually prompting her to find out what the Slytherin was up to.

She wasn’t sure whether Elsa was just resting her eyes or nursing a headache from the distasteful aroma, but it was the first time that Hermione had seen the usually regal and composed girl in a state of something that resembled defeat. 

So she waited, hugging her books closer to her chest, contemplating whether or not she should approach the other girl.

Arendelle, what’s going on? Hermione wondered, curiosity winning her over, as she carefully turned the doorknob to enter the room.

As if Elsa heard Hermione’s question alongside the creaking of the door, she finally lifted her head with an unfamiliar expression drawn all over her face.

Hermione had never seen Arendelle this frustrated. With her eyes bloodshot like she had just finished crying, Elsa met Hermione’s stare before straightening her shoulders and letting out a sharp breath.

“What are you doing here?” Elsa asked quietly—warily—as hoarfrost started to ascend her throat. A book fell to the ground. She didn’t expect company, and she was not ready for Hermione’s questions. Why the hell was Granger roaming the halls at this time of hour anyway? Why wasn’t she with Potter and the rest of her friends?

“I reckon you’re having a hard time with Potions,” Hermione shrugged while stating the obvious, ignoring Elsa’s question as she scanned the classroom. She couldn’t help but raise a brow. Plants were cluttered next to a tower of books, there was an empty mug laying on its side, and bottles and cylinders occupied the rest of Elsa’s working area. Elsa, bleary-eyed and in a state of disarray, still looked stunning as ever with a messy bun in place, her tie hanging loosely around her neck. For once, she unbuttoned the uppermost part of her collar, making Hermione realize that this was the first time she ever saw Elsa in an almost disheveled appearance. 

Almost. She still looked perfect nonetheless.

An awkward, momentary silence blanketed over the two of them, and it was heavy enough that Elsa hunched down her seat. The last thing she needed was for the smartest witch in her year to see her struggle with the simple task of controlling the temperature of a damn herbal potion. But she was already caught in the act of her incompetence and she knew Hermione was far from thinking of leaving the room.

Elsa could only press her lips into a line, hating herself just a little bit as she felt her face turn red.

 “Show me what you’re working on,” Hermione encouraged while plopping herself on the chair opposite of Elsa. “Maybe I can help you?”

The hoarfrost that was lodged in her throat descended by the barest bit, but she felt the light warmness it left on its wake. “Fine,” Elsa replied in a cracked voice, feeling a wave of exhaustion depleting whatever energy she had left. She didn’t feel like arguing with Hermione. “But whenever I touch it….I freeze the whole thing.”

 “Show me.”

Elsa nodded before casting her eyes back on her task. She carefully touched the surface of the cylinder with a finger, and the liquid inside it immediately froze, turning the whole thing into a tube of ice. She groaned as her elbows slammed the table, her face buried in her hands once more while missing Hermione’s concerned look.

Hermione sighed, extending her hand to touch Elsa’s arm, “Look, it’s okay, we can work on this–” 

Instinctively, Elsa yanked her arm away from Hermione’s skin, “S-orry, I don’t want to hurt you,” she stuttered as she shoved her hands under the table. 

 Hermione felt her heart break a little. No, she wasn’t offended by Elsa’s actions—she was reminded once again why the Slytherin was so guarded and so scared. Elsa was genuinely trying to protect everyone around her from her. But Hermione did not need that from her. She truly believed Elsa was not capable of harming another human being. “You’re not going to hurt me,” Hermione said in a gentle tone in hopes of easing Elsa’s growing anxiety.

But even with the gentleness and sincerity in her voice, Elsa was still rigid—guarded—and paralyzed in her seat. She wanted Hermione to leave and stay all at once. But she didn’t really have a say or choice as Hermione inched closer to the table, dropping her books next to the pile of herbs that was scattered on the floor.

As comforting as she would like to be, the evidence of Elsa’s mishaps were hard to sugarcoat that Hermione didn’t bother to placate the situation further. To divert Elsa’s attention away from her fears, Hermione picked up the rosemary that Elsa turned into a popsicle. Minutes passed and Elsa’s initial shock of Hermione’s ambush frittered away, allowing Elsa to finally open up about her frozen plants and current dilemma.

While Elsa started to ease into Hermione’s company, with her hands in the air as she rambled on, Hermione couldn’t help but do a double take. She honestly thought, for a split second, that it was the other Arendelle girl that she was speaking with. Had it not been for the green neck-tie, blonde hair, and clear, blue eyes, Hermione could’ve sworn it was Anna that stood in front of her.

Her mind started to play tricks on her. Hermione wanted to help Elsa analyze and come up with alternatives to solve her problem but weariness swept over her like a flood, finally beckoning her to sleep. It would’ve taken a simple spell to keep her awake, but how much more can a sixteen-year-old body take? So many nights were spent on mapping Voldemort’s potential whereabouts while trying to make room for studying for exams. She invested a huge amount of time and energy trying to accomplish so many things all at once, that she had forgotten what slept was and what laying on a bed felt like.

“—I just don’t know what to do anymore,” Elsa continued on with her tangent, gloved hands still flying in air while scrutinizing the potions book in front of her, barely noticing Granger’s unusual silence. Before she could lift her eyes to acknowledge Hermione, a pair of hands swept from below, pulling a stunned Elsa to sit back down on her chair. These hands weren’t so much as forceful, but they were firm and determined enough to keep the ice from Elsa’s fingertips from spewing.

Hermione, against all logic and Elsa’s pending protests, cupped her hands around a pair of cold and trembling ones, ignoring the sharp gasp that followed.

“Wh—what are you doing?” Elsa, with her eyes as wide as saucers, looked down at her hands in horror, and then raised them up to meet Hermione’s face.

I don’t know. I haven’t slept in days. Hermione could only reply in a noncommittal shrug. “I’m holding your hands...Elsa, just have a seat. Please?”

Elsa wanted to pull away, but the fear of ice darting from her fingertips at the sudden movement glued her in place. She didn’t want Hermione to feel the coldness that filled her body—the curse…the disease that crippled her and forced her to stay away from every single thing and person that she ever loved. She didn’t want Hermione to feel the ice that flowed within her veins, sustaining her and killing her at the same time.

Staying true to character, stubborn and headstrong like the Gryffindors that came before her, Hermione refused to give up—she refused to let go of her grip. She knew the risks. She saw how erratic and dangerous Elsa’s magic was, but not once did she ever cringe of showed any signs of discomfort.

Elsa dropped her stare on the warm-blooded hands that circled hers. How long has it been since someone touched her? How long has it been since she felt Mama’s kiss? Papa’s embrace? Anna’s hand around hers?

For a moment, the two girls sat in stillness with their knees facing each other. For a moment, they had forgotten the tasks and the thoughts that loomed over them. Potions that needed to be made. Voldemort’s whereabouts. The dementors that lurked nearby. Anna’s budding friendship with Harry Potter. 

Elsa fixed her focus on the brick wall past Hermione’s shoulder while Hermione rested her glance on their hands propped on her lap.The strange and lingering odor went unnoticed as their minds started to wander. Elsa, in spite of her anxiety, couldn’t find it in her to argue anymore with Hermione’s unorthodox gestures. She didn’t want to fight, and she didn’t have the strength to yank her touch-starved hands away. It felt…nice. Warm. Hermione’s hands were warm even against the fabric of her gloves, and she was starting to feel the ice in her chest dissolve. She was never going to get used to this, and she didn’t want to. This was something she would never deserve, but now, just for now, she let her guard down.

But sooner or later, every distraction that she had set up for herself to consume her mind were bound to vanish. Fatigue can only do so much. The one thing Elsa did not want to think about, that constant and throbbing thought that plagued her without mercy, was getting stronger again with each breath.

“I think Voldemort knows,” Elsa whispered as she avoided eye contact, breaking the silence between her and Hermione.

Hermione finally let go of Elsa’s hands. “What are you talking about?” she replied, leaning her face closer to meet Elsa’s eye level. The temperature in the room suddenly dropped, and there was vapor in her breath when she uttered her words.

Elsa balled her hands into a fist. “He…he knows about my curse and those Dementors weren’t sent for Harry,” she bit back, feeling the pain in her chest as hoarfrost started to fill her lungs again, “they’re here for me.”