Holly & Yew

C40

Chapter 40: I know there's something about me ... That you can't wait to just tell me ... And I love the way you move, it's so bashful ... So just take my hand 'cause baby, it's natural

The orphans of Wool's were evacuated with militant efficiency, Mrs. Cole the chief sergeant of the operation and Harry her ill-graced right-hand officer. Whatever qualms Mrs. Cole had about Harry-and-Tom were temporarily put aside for the sake of the sprogs.

Long, winding files of children headed by teachers and bobbies filled the streets of London in lines leading to the railway and bus stations. Name tags had been pinned to their tiny coats by parents they would not see for years, and they wore gas masks in cardboard boxes around their necks like ominous amulets.

Harry and Tom had a lengthy series of discussions about whether they should stay or go. London was their home—their city. They felt reluctant to leave it for some remote part of the country where they'd be at the mercy of strangers. No doubt, they'd be made into farmhands in short. And that wasn't even close to the worst possibility. Their position as wards of Wool's already came with certain vulnerabilities—vulnerabilities that would only be exacerbated if they were foisted into an unwelcoming household.

There were too many uncertainties. How would they get to Diagon Alley when it came time to get their school supplies? Or King's Cross come September? They were most anxious about the latter. Missing the train to Hogwarts was inconceivable; their school was the light at the end of this miserable tunnel. But there was no guarantee they would be at liberty to return to London whenever they pleased once they left.

What ended up being the sticking point was the threat of separation. Even siblings weren't guaranteed joint placement. There was very little hope for them when there was nothing visible to tie them together in the eyes of outsiders.

The thought of being parted from Tom sent frissons of terror through Harry, even worse than the sound of the air raid sirens. How could they survive months without each other when they didn't even feel entirely comfortable spending a full day apart? Now of all times, when war had destroyed any semblance or possibility of true safety, Harry needed Tom like air—he had to see Tom as soon as he woke up and right before he went to bed.

How could he sleep without hearing Tom's steady breaths beside him? How could he eat without knowing if Tom was hungry?

Separation would be unutterable.

Harry suspected Tom felt similarly by the bristling, snarling way Tom reacted whenever the possibility of them being placed away from each other was raised. Soon, even mentioning evacuation sent Tom into a surly mood.

"I won't be without you," Tom whispered fiercely at night, clutching Harry's hand tightly. "I won't, Harry."

So they put it on hold. If things got unbearable, they would leave. If it didn't, they would stay.

Then one day, there were no more orphans left to evacuate. Wool's was empty, Harry and Tom the lone stragglers in its halls.

They did their best to stay out of the orphanage during the daytime to avoid Mrs. Cole. They spent hours in church, practicing their duet and the other songs they had learned over the years. They were rusty, but their fingers had held onto fragments.

Harry's attention kept drifting to the stained glass window. It had been tarred black to comply with the blackout policy. He couldn't look at it without his chest growing tight. It had been too difficult to fit with curtains.

Maybe they would be able to strip the paint gently after everything was over, so the window could be restored back to normal.