A/N: Welcome back! Quick warning-THIS IS NOT A STANDALONE STORY! If you didn't read "World So Cold," this fic won't make any sense! Please make sure you read that one first to avoid spoilers. :) As with the last story, this one is also complete; I'll post two chapters every day. When you see /slashes/ around dialogue, that means they're speaking Russian.
Chapter One: The Last One Standing (2012)
"Reparo."
The little hole in Winter's stuffed monkey mended immediately, leaving it looking as good as new in the palm of Yasha's hand. He glanced down at his cat and smiled a little, holding the monkey just out of her reach as he whispered, /You need to be careful with this little guy, okay, Win?/
Winter answered with an aborted mewl and pawed at his knee until Yasha handed her the toy. She'd always had a way of understanding what he was saying (no matter what language he said it in), and this time was no exception. Instead of pouncing on the monkey, she dragged it up into Yasha's lap and curled into a ball, hugging it between her paws.
/Good girl,/ he murmured, stroking her fur. The vibration of her purrs tickled against his leg, but he didn't dare to move if she was comfortable where she was.
The sun was just now rising over the horizon to welcome September first, the pinkish hues streaking across the sky unmarred by clouds. He could see the silhouette of St. Basil's Cathedral outside his window as the bright and varied colors began to differentiate themselves from the dark mass they became at night. Yasha sighed heavily as he turned his gaze from the window toward his packed trunk and Winter's cage sitting ready by his bedroom door. Natasha would be here in an hour, and then they'd be traveling to London with Mikhail and Tatiana to catch the train to Hogwarts.
His letter had come during the first week of August, so there had been plenty of time to get the required school supplies for all sixth years. A lot of people he knew would be going to Beauxbatons instead since they lived under the arbitrary line the British and French Ministries had drawn to divide the former Durmstrang students between them. He hadn't heard from the Maximoffs or Skye all summer, but he knew Nat and Jarvis, at least, would be coming with him to Hogwarts.
Not that he'd spoken to either of them recently, he remembered as he glanced at the clock. There was a tiny wedge of guilt buried deep in his chest, but it wasn't enough to bother him for more than a moment.
The last two months had been… Well, things had changed. Four people had died, one of whom was supposed to be him, but while most of the Wizarding world mourned for a few days and then moved on with life, his entire world had been shattered to pieces. Magic was useless. So were his guardians. Tatiana and Mikhail had done their best to help, he knew that. There were things that were simply beyond their capabilities, however, no matter how powerful they were in the Russian Ministry of Magic. They couldn't glue the tattered remains of his life back together any more than they could bring back the dead.
As quickly as his world had plummeted out from beneath him, he felt himself vanish into the void left behind just as fast. The nightmares hadn't stopped once, the sleeping or the waking ones. Winter was the only being in existence that he'd spoken to ever since that day unless it was one-word answers and gestures. Tatiana talked to him without expecting a response while Mikhail usually sat in silent solidarity when he entered the room. Nat had come by to see him a few times, but Tatiana had kindly made excuses—he was out or he was sick or he was still sleeping or he was taking Winter to the vet or he was running errands. She'd given up eventually, although not enough to refrain from sending him an owl saying she'd be there at seven o'clock sharp on September first and he'd better have his ass out of bed and ready by the time she arrived.
She was a good friend. It really was too bad she had to put up with him being an awful one.
/What do you think, Win?/ he sighed. /It's six-thirty. Time to get ready?/
Winter shot him a flatly disapproving look before turning, rubbing her head against his stomach, and settling back in with her monkey.
I'll take that as a no, Yasha chuckled mildly to himself, shifting to get more comfortable against his headboard.
He wasn't really rushing to get moving anyway, especially when Winter was feeling clingy. It was more often the case than not anymore, although it wasn't like he was much better. He'd always taken her with him everywhere anyway, but now he couldn't stand to be in a room without having her nearby. He'd get nervous when she just went around the corner to his bathroom to use the litter box. She was all he had left in the world, and an irrational, childish part of him was scared that if he looked away for just a second too long, she'd be gone too.
With him in constant distress, Winter commenced excessively hanging all over him. She didn't curl up in the corner and play with her toys anymore; she brought them to him so that they could play together. She also attacked his face and hands with extra grooming licks whenever she had the chance even though he never removed his disguise anymore. He used to wander around the apartment naturally unless he had to go anywhere or they were expecting company, but he didn't bother anymore; he quietly declined all of Tatiana's offers to redo the spell if he wanted to remove it. That guy was dead. It would be disrespectful for Yasha to steal his face.
The soft sounds of Tatiana and Mikhail moving around in their bedroom reached him through the wall after a few more minutes. Yasha slumped further down against his pillows, scratching Winter behind the ears. Maybe if they think I'm still asleep, they'll leave me alone…
Literally two seconds later, there was a soft knock on his door.
Guess not.
/Yeah?/ he called quietly. He knew if he didn't say at least that, whoever it was wouldn't come in. His guardians absolutely refused to invade his privacy, and he was grateful for it.
Tatiana poked her head inside and smiled gently at him. "Good morning," she greeted in heavily accented English. She'd been doing that more and more lately, probably believing that if she spoke his native language it would prompt him to speak a little in return. It usually didn't work, but this was the last day they would see each other until the winter holidays (if they even let him come back here—they hadn't discussed it yet) so he figured he might as well show how appreciative he was for their kindness.
"Morning," he replied with a weak smile of his own. To Yasha's distant satisfaction, Tatiana's smile grew a few shades brighter.
"May I come in?"
It's too early for this, grumbled Yasha inwardly, although he knew it was an excuse. It would always be too early, so he nodded and pushed himself upright. Winter adjusted herself to prop her head up on his knee and observe Tatiana as she moved to perch on the edge of his bed. She didn't say anything for a minute, petting Winter's head slowly as she seemed to prepare whatever it was she'd been planning to come in here for.
After a bit, Tatiana looked up and met his eyes. Hers were filled with sorrow but no tears.
"Yasha… Bucky," she began, her expression growing even more melancholy when she caught his nearly imperceptible flinch. That name felt like a slap in the face these days. "I know this is hard, but it won't be forever. This pain will pass. You have the rest of your life ahead of you, and your family will be with you every step of the way."
Yasha's eyes dropped to his lap as they began to fill up with tears. He was so tired of crying.
Tatiana wasn't done, though. "You can't shut yourself away when you get to school. I've let you ignore your friends, I've let you pull away from us—but that can't go on, Bucky." There was a sort of desperation in her tone, like she was pleading with him. She pulled his hand into hers and waited until he made eye contact before she continued, "Your parents loved you so much. They gave up so many things to make sure you would have the best chance at life they could possibly give you. They wouldn't want you to close yourself off and forget to live, not after everything you fought so hard to accomplish."
He wanted to ask what he'd fought for, but the mere thought of speaking so many words at a time was exhausting. All Yasha felt like he did was go along for the ride and do what he was told. Sure, the decision to go to Durmstrang had ultimately been his, but that was the extent of his say in the matter.
His expression must have broadcast his thoughts fairly plainly, because Tatiana's free hand came up under his chin.
"It doesn't always seem like much, but just deciding not to give up when everything seems terrible can be a battle in itself."
Yasha exhaled loudly and gave the tiniest shrug. Was that why he felt so exhausted all the time? Or was it that losing everything and face-planting right into rock-bottom was slowly drowning him?
"I want you to promise me something," Tatiana told him.
Frowning, Yasha asked, "What's that?"
"Promise me that you'll write," she whispered, cupping his face in both hands and kissing his forehead lightly. It was perhaps the most intimate she'd been with him, and that fact alone was enough to make him want to agree. "Promise me you won't go off to school and forget we're here for you."
Yasha pursed his lips and scrunched up his face to keep from crying, shifting Winter out of his lap to lean forward and wrap Tatiana in a hug.
"I promise," he murmured, telling himself he wasn't lying.
"I'll hold you to that," warned Tatiana without heat, squeezing him back. When they broke apart, she cupped his face again and smiled. "Natasha will be here soon. I'll go make breakfast—for you and the precious kitty princess," she cooed, scratching under Winter's chin.
"'kay." Yasha couldn't help chuckling at the nickname as Tatiana took her leave. It was appropriate, if he was being honest: Winter was the most pampered member of the household—and the little brat was very well aware of it, too.
"Okay," he repeated quietly to himself, taking a deep breath and holding it for a long moment before letting it out slowly through his teeth. He could do this.
/Shit, who died?/ was the first thing Nat said when she entered his room and took in his meager appearance.
Swallowing down both the flare of despair and the cruel retort that edged its way onto his tongue first, Yasha flatly replied, /Nice to see you too./
Nat didn't address his tone, but her penetrating gaze didn't leave him for a second as she sat down primly on the bed and stroked Winter's fur. /Seriously, though, you look like crap, Yasha. I thought your aunt was just being nice when she said you were sick, but I'm actually starting to believe her./
He didn't bother answering, carelessly yanking his hair back into an elastic band and sighing when half of it fell out of the bun at the nape of his neck. He wondered if it would be feasible to chop off his hair in this disguise or if altering the spell would be the only way, but that took effort and he really wasn't into that right now.
/You're not planning on going to Hogwarts in that, are you?/
Taking a deep breath to avoid losing his cool, Yasha looked at her in the mirror and shrugged. /What difference does it make?/
Nat scoffed, standing up and moving to stand behind him. She fussed with his hair in silence and then examined him carefully from the top of his increasingly shaggy head, across his dirty three-day-old T-shirt, past his ripped up jeans, and down to the soles of his torn up, three-year-old Converse shoes. Raising an eyebrow, she dryly inquired, /You really have to ask?/
/It's not that big a deal, Nat,/ he sighed, sensing that he was going to lose this battle no matter how much he argued. /We're just gonna change into robes when we get there anyway./
/Ah, but you see, the most important part of any introduction is making an entrance,/ she insisted with a wry smirk. /We're introducing ourselves to the entire Hogwarts population, which means extra care must be taken. Get with the program, Smirnov./
Yeah, get with the program, Smirnov.
/So…what? You want me to dress like that?/ He gestured toward her Durmstrang robes, which he hadn't cared enough to ask why she was wearing when she came in.
He could hardly believe she was serious when her smirk turned into a broad grin.
/Hell no, no way—/
/You have to admit they're very upscale compared to what I've heard they wear at Hogwarts./
/They have fur. I'm not sweating my balls off just to make a good impression./
Nat rolled her eyes impatiently. /Then wear the summer one, genius. It's lighter and has the shorter cloak. Ditch the hat, it's stupid anyway./
/Nat, no./
/Nat, yes,/ she cut him off before he could argue, her eyes flashing dangerously this time. /You've been avoiding me for almost two months. I haven't seen or heard from you since we went shopping. You owe me./
Yasha opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to think of anything he could use to rebut that and coming up with absolutely nothing. Eventually he capitulated and let his shoulders slump before muttering a pathetic attempt at an agreement. People shouldn't be allowed to exhaust him before breakfast.
If he thought wearing his Durmstrang uniform was going to be a feat, he had no idea how difficult finding it would be. He hadn't bothered to straighten up his laundry over the last few weeks; Tatiana had come in and gathered his discarded clothing off the floor for cleaning once a week, and he'd thrown it all in his dresser drawers carelessly every time a clean pile of laundry appeared at the foot of his bed. That meant that everything was a crumpled up, wrinkled mess, shoved into the backs of his drawers where pulling out one thing meant simultaneously pulling out five others. There was a pile almost up to his knees by the time he finally gathered all the components of his summer uniform, which Nat snatched away from him immediately.
/What the hell, Yasha?/ she muttered under her breath, walking right out of his room. With Winter at his heels, Yasha followed her across the apartment into the kitchen like a puppy, where Nat dumped his things on the table and put her hands on her hips. /Tatiana, your nephew's uniform needs life support./
When Tatiana saw what she was talking about, she burst into laughter for a minute before turning down the heat on the stove and joining them at the table. /It is pretty terrible, isn't it?/
Yasha muttered a halfhearted apology and watched while Tatiana pulled out her wand, running it over top of the uniform and muttering an incantation he didn't recognize. The cloth began to move, straightening out until there wasn't a wrinkle left and everything looked brand new. The fur was even mended where it had been pulling away from the seams by the end of the previous school year.
Nat thanked Tatiana before shoving his uniform into his arms and waving towards his room. /Go get dressed. We haven't got all day./
/Yes, ma'am,/ he replied sarcastically, jumping out of the way before she could smack him in the back of the head and hastening to his room lest he anger her further.
Ten minutes later, he stood in front of the mirror looking like an actual human being again. Nat had come in about halfway through the process of pulling on the blood red robes to assist him with his hair, which he insisted he didn't need only for his protests to fall on deaf ears. (And okay, maybe he did need a little bit of help. That was what happened when he didn't brush his hair for a week and then people expected him to make an effort.) She had gone out to the foyer for a second and come back with a tub of something he'd never seen before, instructing him to sit on the closed toilet seat while she got to work. She'd then run a creamy substance through his hair that was cold against his neck, brushed it out, and parted it down the middle so that it hung in even lengths on the sides of his face.
Now, as he scrutinized himself, he had to admit that he actually looked pretty good. His shoulders were broad enough to fill out the robes and make him look more robust, especially with the cape hanging down from one shoulder like some kind of fairytale prince would have. He'd skipped the hat like Nat suggested, which showed off his shiny dark brown hair where it was soft and wavy on either side of his face, one side tucked behind his ear.
/There,/ Nat declared with a satisfied nod. /You look great./
/It's always important to look your best when you feel your worst,/ recited Yasha in barely more than a whisper, surprising himself. Nat's expression was confused when he glanced at her in the mirror, so he reluctantly explained, /It's something my m—my aunt told me once. A long time ago./
He'd completely forgotten until just now, and he could have kicked himself for not remembering what his mom had said on such a huge day. He'd been eight years old, newly moved to London, and ready to start his first day at his new Muggle school. That was a tough summer, moving away from Brooklyn and Steve and Sarah, leaving behind everything he knew and loved. Going to a different school was the worst part, though; he didn't know anyone, and he'd liked his old school just fine. He'd cried the night before (not that he told anyone, because he thought only babies cried back then), and his mom and dad kept telling him to stop dragging his feet that morning. When his mom came into his room and saw he wasn't dressed yet, she automatically went to his closet and picked out his favorite clothes: jeans and a Marvel Comics T-shirt.
"You know what always makes me feel better when I go someplace new?" she'd asked as he got dressed.
"What?"
"Dressing up in something pretty. I'll take out my nicest dress and best pair of shoes, and I'll wear my favorite jewelry," she had confided in him with a conspiratorial wink.
"How does that help?" he'd asked, not getting what the big deal was about wearing fancy clothes.
She'd straightened his shirt out and brushed some of the hair out of his face before bequeathing to him the wisdom, "It's always important to look your best when you feel your worst."
He hadn't really understood what she meant at the time but now, standing in front of his mirror looking like he had his life pulled together when really everything was falling apart? He finally got it.
Nat mercifully didn't say anything, letting him stare at his reflection a little longer and blink the redness out of his eyes before gently suggesting they go see if breakfast was ready. And if she slipped her hand in his and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze on their way out the door? Well, neither of them would mention it.
King's Cross was just as busy as it always had been on the magical side of platform nine and three-quarters, with students and their families milling about or running around reuniting with friends they hadn't seen in a few months. Some of them were already dressed in the familiar robes with their house crests on them while others were in Muggle clothes, likely planning on changing before they arrived at the castle tonight. The Durmstrang students were easily identifiable against the rest, standing in isolated groups wearing the same red robes that Yasha and Nat were. They eyed the Hogwarts students but didn't even attempt to mingle in most cases, acting as if they might catch a disease or something if they got too close.
For their part, the Hogwarts students didn't pay them much mind aside from a few curious glances. It had been all over every Wizarding newspaper that Durmstrang had been closed until further notice, so it wasn't as if they were surprised to see a bunch of the displaced students waiting for the Hogwarts Express. At least they weren't being rude about it, which Yasha had come to expect from his classmates at Durmstrang.
He and Nat had Side-Along Apparated with Tatiana and Mikhail straight onto the platform, the latter not wanting to get caught in the crowd on the Muggle side of the barrier. Yasha wasn't sure how honest that was, especially when Mikhail kept one hand around the wand in his pocket the whole time, but he decided it was probably better not to ask. It would only lead to a conversation he undoubtedly did not want to have, and he'd already been subjected to enough of those today to last him quite some time.
/I'll take your things to the train,/ Mikhail told them after he'd surveyed the platform and seemingly found everything to be all right. /You both stay here with Tatiana./
/I can get it,/ protested Yasha, but Mikhail waved him off.
/It's fine, let an old man get his exercise./
Shrugging, Yasha stepped aside with Nat and Tatiana, holding a wriggling Winter in his arms with some difficulty while Mikhail dragged their trunks easily into one of the carriages. She'd gone crazy the second she realized where they were, looking around and taking in all the familiar sights and smells. Yasha wished he could feel the same way, but everything he remembered loving about going to Hogwarts had been covered over by a grey film in his mind's eye. It was like looking through a fog to see those happy times now, especially since it wasn't as if he could just walk right back into those memories like he was still the same person. It made seeing all of this again both a miracle and a waking nightmare.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
/Do you see Jarvis anywhere?/ he heard Nat ask. Yasha forced himself to pull his head out of his ass long enough to glance around, but he didn't see their gangly friend anywhere nearby.
Who he did see made his heart skip a few beats.
Sam Wilson was standing barely ten yards from them, taller than Yasha remembered and with facial hair they hadn't been capable of growing last time they saw each other. He was speaking animatedly with Peggy, who had always been pretty but had grown into an absolutely stunning young woman, and a muscular blond guy Yasha assumed was Thor since he could only see the guy's back. Sam shoved him in the shoulder and the three of them burst into laughter before Sam's eyes drifted away from his companions. They landed on Yasha as he scanned the crowd, and for just a moment he felt himself freeze in fear. He couldn't breathe or think or feel the beating of his heart—what if he recognized him, what if he just knew, what if he came to greet the new students, what if what if what if—
None of that happened, though. His eyes kept moving like they hadn't even seen Yasha, and despite his panic about the alternatives, Yasha felt his heart cracking a little more in his chest at not being recognized by one of his closest friends.
It's for the best, he told himself firmly. They wouldn't know you anymore even if you looked exactly like you did back then. To them, you're dead. Better start getting used to it.
/Earth to Yasha./
A sharp tap on his temple brought him out of his miserable contemplation and he looked down to see Nat staring at him like he was crazy. He was probably at least halfway there, all things considered.
/Sorry, thought I saw him,/ he lied, clearing his throat awkwardly. He busied himself with adjusting Winter in his arms so that he didn't have to make eye contact, his cat licking at his face in what Yasha figured was an attempt to ease his stress.
Tatiana seemed to understand what had happened in spite of the fact that she had never seen or met any of his Hogwarts friends before, and she put a hand on his back. /Natasha, would you excuse us for a minute?/ she asked politely, waiting for Nat to nod before leading Yasha away from her and the rest of the crowded platform. He vaguely recognized Mikhail speaking with a heavyset man a few yards away who Yasha thought looked familiar, but he paid it no mind as he followed Tatiana.
Once they were safely tucked away behind one of the pillars, she guided him so that his back was to the rest of the platform while she stood facing him worriedly. /You saw someone you know?/
Yasha nodded silently.
/Did they recognize you?/
When he shook his head, she let out a breath neither of them seemed to realize she had been holding. He couldn't help anxiously inquiring, /Did you think they would?/
/I wasn't sure,/ she admitted, glancing out from behind the pillar to check the time and lowering her voice to a whisper. /We made the changes to your appearance subtle so they wouldn't attract attention from people who had never seen you in person before. We never expected you to wear this face around people who knew you well./
/Do you think they'll see through it?/ He could feel the edge of panic rising again.
Taking a deep breath, she cautiously replied, /Not if you're careful. It's still been almost three years—you've grown a lot since then. Besides, everyone here thinks you d—/
She cut herself off, but Yasha could hear the rest of what she was thinking as if she'd said it aloud: Besides, everyone here thinks you died. Even if anybody did believe he looked familiar, they would probably assume they were just seeing ghosts and avoid him to spare themselves the discomfort.
/Everything will be fine,/ she told him instead, smiling reassuringly. /You just worry about your classes. And Quidditch! You're trying out, yes?/
Swallowing, Yasha gave an unsure shrug of his shoulders but Tatiana swatted his arm in annoyance.
/Don't you shrug at me./
/Okay, okay, I'll try out,/ he sighed, smiling tersely. /I left my broom at the apartment, though, so I'll have to borrow one from the school./
/Well, now, what is the saying? Don't count your chickens until they hatch?/ Tatiana smirked wickedly up at him. /Your broomstick is in your trunk where it ought to have been when you packed last night. You'll need to put it back to its normal size, but it should be in fine working order when you get there. You write to me and tell me when you get on the team./
Yasha gaped at her while she spoke, hardly daring to believe his ears. Tatiana and Mikhail had been looking out for him for almost three years now, yet it still surprised him when they did something like this. A surge of affection for his guardians blossomed in his chest, the first real emotion he'd felt aside from pain and misery in weeks, and he pulled Tatiana into a one-armed hug.
/Thank you,/ he whispered, hoping it sounded as sincere as he meant it to be. /For everything./
She returned the embrace, one hand rubbing his back soothingly. /Dear boy, you never have to thank us for giving you the things you deserve. We're here for you whenever you need us. You know this, yes?/
/I know./ Yasha pulled back, swallowing around the lump in his throat, and nodded. He could feel himself getting too emotional, though, and shut down the floodgates before more came pouring out than he'd bargained for. /Should probably get boarded./
Smiling in sorrowful understanding, Tatiana merely nodded and followed him back to where they'd left Nat, who had apparently found Jarvis while she was waiting for them to return. She spotted them and said something quick before they were in earshot, and Jarvis turned to grin at them as they approached.
/All right, Yasha?/ he asked in his characteristic British accent, although he switched to Russian for Yasha's benefit. Yasha distantly added that to the list of things no one would recognize: he hadn't spoken Russian last time he was at Hogwarts either.
/I'm good, Jarvis. You?/
/Very well, thank you. But you'll never guess who else made it into Hogwarts,/ complained Jarvis, his nose scrunching up disdainfully.
There were many people who could invite that kind of reaction from Jarvis, but there was only one person who got the flash of fear in his eyes on top of it.
/Rumlow? Seriously?/ groaned Yasha, shaking his head. This day's just getting better and better all the time.
/And Rollins,/ added Nat, scowling. /I saw them while you guys were gone. You'd think they owned the place the way they were pushing the little ones around./
/So they acted like they always do,/ Yasha sighed, rolling his eyes. Leave it to Rumlow: everyone else here was just trying to mind their own business while he attempted to establish himself as king of the world before they'd begun their first day. /I was hoping they'd go to Beauxbatons./
/I'm never that lucky,/ mused Jarvis. The great thing about him was that, even when he was at his lowest, he kept his spirits up through a healthy balance of humorous self-deprecation and the fervent belief that everything could be so much worse.
By the time they'd finished verbally abusing Rumlow for daring to stink up the halls of yet another school, the warning horn sounded and Jarvis left them to say goodbye to his family, promising to find their compartment on the train. Nat thanked Tatiana and Mikhail, who'd returned just in time, and boarded without Yasha to give him an opportunity to say his own goodbyes.
/Now, you remember what we talked about this morning, yes? And your promise?/ prodded Tatiana, fussing over his cloak in a manner reminiscent of his mom. It made him smile, bitter and weak as it was.
/I remember,/ he vowed. He let her pull him into a hug before turning to Mikhail, who he knew too well to expect some grand show of affection.
True to form, Mikhail shook his hand firmly with a kind smile. He was a man of very few words, and it appeared he had none for this occasion; everything he wanted to say was in his expression anyway.
After another hug from Tatiana, Yasha stepped up into the carriage and closed the door, waving out the window once as the train jerked to life. He didn't stay by the window to watch them disappear from view. He didn't get misty eyed and think about the next time he would see them. He didn't feel much of anything except the gnawing emptiness inside him as he left his guardians behind and went in search of his and Nat's compartment, Winter and her monkey curled tight against his chest.