A/N: Because I need more Anna and Harry interaction.


He was so tired.

All the commotion going on around him and within him was never ending like crashing waves that wanted nothing more but to drown him alive. The O.W.L.s were coming up, Voldemort was still missing, and the notorious Ice Queen once again managed to piss Hermione off, setting her in a very unpleasant mood. With Hermione subdued and ticking like a time bomb, he was forced, for once in a very long time, to pursue his studies without her assistance.

His brain hurt. Studying with Ron was just as fruitless. Rounding up a corner, Harry dragged himself to reach Gryffindor's common room, the weight of exhaustion ready to pin him down to the floor at any moment. The desire to sleep was proving to be strong when he felt a sharp pain shoot through his skull as his vision blurred by the minute.

Three hours of sleep did that, he thought bitterly. Passing by a group of students whispering amongst themselves while shooting him judgmental glances, Harry ignored them and quickened his pace. He finally made it in the hallway leading up to The Grand Staircase. He didn't have to think twice to figure out what was being spoken about him. And quite frankly, he didn't care.

Arrogant. Attention-seeker. Trouble-maker. Cursed boy. What else was new?

He was so close to reaching the common room when he saw her standing there. What…was she doing? Right in the middle of the empty hall surrounded by portraits was Anna Arendelle having a conversation with…pictures. She didn't notice him coming because her gaze was transfixed on a painting that hung a little bit lower than the rest. Harry took a few steps towards her and squinted his eyes to get a better look of what she was staring at and felt something inside him crack.

Inside the rectangular frame were two little girls laughing and hugging each other. They looked so happy and so free. Anna waved at them, and they waved back before turning their backs to walk to the opposite direction where a road that led to a small castle came to view.

Harry was about to open his mouth to greet her, but she did something that he had never seen her do before. The ever optimistic, happy-go-lucky, and vibrant Anna Arendelle wrapped her arms around her waist and hung her head low. With her side facing him, and even with his vision slightly impaired, Harry was able to detect the droplets of tears that slid down her cheeks and onto the pavement. He watched as teal green eyes welled up and watered the cold ground where they stood.

And in that moment, Harry finally understood why Hermione, Ron—and the rest of his friends hated Elsa Arendelle.

What reason—and who else was capable of hurting Anna like this?

"Anna, are you okay?" he asked as if the answer wasn't already obvious. Anna turned her head and smiled at him. It didn't reach her eyes. That was the painful part. Even in the middle of her heartbreak and weakest moment, Anna still managed to smile.

"Yeah…I'm just looking at this painting. It's beautiful," she said awkwardly. Harry didn't find that particular painting beautiful at all because he knew what it meant for Anna. It was a reminder of what she used to have and no longer have. There was nothing beautiful about that.

He noticed the slight hitch in her voice and the coarseness that it had brought with it. She looked like someone who had been crying for hours. "How are you, Harry?" she asked, ignoring the sad expression on his face that he failed to conceal. She ran the back of her hand over her eyes to brush away her tears as if it was the most casual thing to do.

He wondered how long she had been doing that and when she started to do that—tucking away her feelings like they were irrelevant. Like they were bothersome and not worthy of attention…of acknowledgment. Sadly, he already knew his answer to that.

But he wasn't going to just let this pass. "You miss your sister," he said, not even bothering to waste one second of beating around the bush. It wasn't even a question. It was a cruel acknowledgement of the reality that Anna was thrown into to suffer with everyday.

Oh, he knew the reason behind Anna's brokenness. He knew because Ron and Hermione would tell him all the time. They didn't have to, though. All it took was one look at her and the way her sad and longing eyes would travel to the Slytherin table during breakfast, searching for the unwilling leader of the pack: Elsa Arendelle. The same Elsa Arendelle who wouldn't even give Anna a single second of her time.

Sometimes, Anna would miss an entire meal just staring at her sister. Sometimes, Harry and his friends would succeed in distracting her and having her join in their conversation and banter. It was easy because Anna was a pleasure to be around with and she was just happy being talked to. She loved to listen to other people's stories and latest adventures. Harry was glad that she somehow found a home with her other Gryffindor classmates.

But he never did miss those quick glances she would shoot at Elsa's table. He knew for a fact that Anna would give anything and everything just to have a seat in that table with her.

Anna nodded and shrugged. "Am I that obvious?" she asked in a faint whisper before chuckling self-deprecatingly. It sounded so hollow and lifeless and empty. Harry had to hold back a wince. She played with the tip of braid, biting down her lip in embarrassment, her head lowering again as if to hide the blush that now colored her cheeks.

Harry opened his mouth without thinking. He was prone to doing that. "I don't know Elsa well enough to understand why she's treating you like this, but she doesn't deserve a sister like you." Tact. He really needed to work on that. Maybe Hermione had a spell for it that she could hex his lips with. Boy, she would enjoy providing him that specific remedy.

"I think you're a wonderful person and you have a family here—with us—now." Anna stared at him with an unreadable expression on her face. He wasn't sure if she was offended or shocked or simply convinced that he was a mental case.

Harry gulped and resisted the urge to turn around and walk away. Digging a hole and burying himself in it sounded like a better plan, but all thoughts of shovels and digging came to a stop when long, slender arms wrapped themselves around his neck.

Anna's hair smelled like strawberry and chocolate. He wasn't exactly sure what scent it was, but she smelled nice. He awkwardly patted her shoulders with his hands. Hugs. She was hugging him. He had just started to give and receive hugs recently since he had been deprived of them before coming to Hogwarts. It was a foreign thing. He knew so little about physical contact and he was still learning.

And he wanted to learn fast when he felt Anna's body tremble against him. He felt something warm and wet filter through the his cloak, just below his shoulder. The tears came back with a vengeance. Anna whimpered like a wounded animal and he didn't know how to fix her.

He clenched his jaw as a flash of anger bolted through him like a quick jab of a knife.

Bloody hell, Elsa.

They stood like that for a long moment with an audience of paintings watching them in timeless wonder. Harry craned his neck and looked around him, imagining what it was like to be frozen in eternity. He suddenly missed his parents.

In those paintings were ghosts. Eternal, bodiless, and free. Ghosts that were people who had once lived and knew happiness along with suffering. People who had stories to tell. People who lived a full life. People whose lives were cut short by fate and tragedy.

But those people no longer possessed bodies.

Since they didn't have bodies, did they still feel pain in the absence of a heart? Did they still know or remember how it was like to be heartbroken beyond repair?

Because Anna did. She wasn't dead, but she was haunted by the ghosts of her parents' memories and the looming presence of her sister who treated her like fleeting wind.

"I miss her so much. More than you'll ever know," Anna mumbled in between shaky breaths. "I still love her even when she stopped loving me." She sounded so weak yet so determined. So fragile yet so strong. Was she trying to be strong for herself or for Elsa? He wasn't sure.

Harry didn't understand this kind of love just yet. He had a lot to learn and he understood that. Elsa treated Anna like she didn't exist. Like she had already died along with their parents.

And this pained Harry in more ways than one.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a bunch of students whispering and pointing at him and Anna. He would deal with the rumors that he was sure would ensue and spread like wildfire the next day from the dense people who had nothing better to do but criticize his every action. He was willing to go through all of that because having Anna here and not by herself talking to paintings, was much, much better and worth all the controversy that awaited him.

In that moment of vulnerability, Harry was able to catch a fragment of the weight and the grief Anna was carrying. She was so young—like him—and filled with so much sadness beyond her years. Inside the shell of a young woman radiating vigor and joy that she gave to everyone around her was a lonely child that was slowly decaying and struggling to rise above the ashes of her sorrow.

Now it made sense…the lack of luster in Anna's eyes even when was smiling broadly. She was dead inside. Harry knew how that felt.

He quietly wished for Anna to someday, one day, have her own walls of happy pictures and memories with people who loved her. When will Elsa ever come around, he didn't know. But he was willing to find out if it meant bringing back the joy in Anna's life and maybe even the light in her eyes. She had such beautiful eyes.

He held Anna tighter, resting his chin on top of her head. The Boy Who Lived and The Girl Who Died held each other just a little while longer.