Holly & Yew

C29

Chapter 29: 'Cause it's too cold ... For you here ... And now, so let me hold ... Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

"This one. What do you think?" Harry asked, pointing at the low-hanging branch of an evergreen tree.

They were walking on the cusp of the Forbidden Forest, looking for a branch to decorate this year. The snow was thick and crunchy, crusted over with a glossy layer of ice.

"Not enough twigs to hang ornaments from," Tom replied after thoroughly inspecting it.

"Oh, come on," Harry complained. "It has at least five twigs. You can double-up your little paper baubles, you know."

Tom let out a scandalized huff.

"I demand seven twigs at minimum," he said bossily.

Harry rolled his eyes, but they kept trudging through the thick snow.

"What kind of things do you think are in there?" Harry wondered curiously, gazing into the underbrush. "Why is it Forbidden?"

"I'm sure you have your garden variety monsters," Tom said casually with a shrug. "Your manticores, your kappas, your ogres, your lepidoptera."

"L-lepidoptera?" Harry said, eyes wide. "What's that?"

"You've never heard of the lepidoptera?" Tom asked.

Harry shook his head.

"The lepidoptera is an unsuspecting-looking beast," Tom whispered. "Its skin is paper-thin and fragile, painted in the most intricate shades and designs. It floats through the air, light as a leaf, searching for its imago."

"What's an imago?" Harry asked.

"It's an idealized image," Tom explained. "But for the lepidoptera, imagines are eyes."

"Eyes?" Harry repeated, confused.

"Yes. The lepidoptera wear eyes on their skin."

Harry gasped with horror.

Tom continued.

"The lepidoptera believe there is one perfect imago for them—one perfect set of eyes they're destined to wear. So they go around looking, examining the eyes of every being that crosses their path."

"What do they do when they find their imago?" Harry asked, scared and fascinated.

"They follow them around at first," Tom said. "Waiting. Watching. Then, every night, they slip down to their target's face, nibbling away at the oculus nerve—"

"Optic nerve," Harry corrected.

Tom smiled, looking very fond.

"Yes, nibbling away at the optic nerve. Until their imago's eyes are loose enough to slip out."

Harry shuddered, clutching Tom's hand tighter.

He wished he hadn't asked. There were some things he really would prefer not to know existed.

"Oh," Tom said, gazing into the underbrush. "I actually think I see one now."

Harry gasped loudly, flinging himself at Tom. Tom wrapped his arms, snug and tight, around Harry.

"Don't worry, my Harry," Tom said comfortingly. "I'm right here."

"Where is it?" Harry asked, shutting his eyes tight and shoving his face into Tom's cloak. Nobody was going to steal his eyes today, thank you very much.

Tom's body shook like he was laughing.

"Tom?"

"You can look, darling. I promise it's okay."