Chapter 7: Mourning Sickness
Sakura groaned as she pushed herself from under Syaoran's heavy arms and sat up sluggishly. Her head felt like a block of cement, and her stomach reeled with waves of nausea. Too sore and sick to think of much else, she moved to pat Syaoran on the head and rested her head in the crook of her other arm. 'Syaoran ... wake up.'
Syaoran's eyes opened slowly. He stretched languidly like a cat and propped up against the headboard. His mind seemed to gain focus as he surveyed the room before settling on Sakura. His back stiffened as he regarded her obviously sickly state, and his obviously shirtless state.
'What am I doing in your bed?'
Sakura moaned. 'I don't know. I feel terrible.'
'That's right, we drank,' Syaoran muttered, wincing as he brushed Sakura's head gently. 'But I don't remember a lot ...' He paused, and then stammered, 'D-Did we ...?'
Sakura threw back the covers and scampered to the bathroom. Once she had thrown up and splashed cold water on her face, she limped back into bed beside Syaoran, who was also looking ill.
'Sakura ... you don't think we ... you know?'
She understood that fear, and it grew into an anxious, barbed ball in her chest. She rose into a sitting position. 'But we couldn't have, surely?' She whimpered, feeling tears sting her eyes.
Syaoran brought an arm around her shoulders, his head resting on hers. 'It's probably nothing. I don't remember anything.'
Sakura fought back tears, which seemed to be exacerbated by her throbbing temple. 'But that's just it ... we don't remember. That's not right. I wanted it to be special.'
Syaoran pressed his lips to her forehead. 'Me too.' He cleared his throat, and shuddered suddenly. 'Sakura, you don't think you might be ... Oh no ...'
Sakura pushed away from him, her vision swimming, a lump in her throat as she tried not to cry. But then she realised that the best thing to do would be to find out, to be truly sure. She surprised herself with her own resolve.
'There's a pharmacy two blocks away,' she murmured, throwing her legs over the side of the bed.
Kero flitted through the open door. 'Sakura–' Just as he spoke Sakura and Syaoran trampled past him and down the stairs.
It was a quarter past noon, and even with the chore of tidying up and restoring the house—only possible with the aid of magic—completed, they couldn't shake the terrible hangover and aggravation that overwhelmed them. They had settled for a late breakfast, though many were too upset to eat contentedly. Tomoyo sighed for the fourth time, her face sullen as she poured tea from the pot into several cups. Hermione glanced up as the steaming liquid reached the brim of her cup. It was the only time she had really broken her focus from her stack of books. Once Hermione had swallowed a couple of painkillers (too exhausted from cleaning to seek any magical solutions for her malaise) she was back to studying again, fretting over the time lost in preparation for her looming Language exam.
Ron bore the brunt of her frustration as she occasionally gave him dirty glances from across the table, as though the events of last night had been entirely his fault. He distracted himself from Hermione's rage by focusing intently on the thick sludge of rice porridge in the bowl before him. It was an odd sort of thing that Meiling called 'congee'. Meiling had taken up the reluctant task of preparing breakfast, in spite of being angry that she, alongside Ron and Hermione, had spent the entire night asleep outside on the lawn. It was bad enough that they all felt the same blistering headache, their bodies weak and lethargic, perhaps similar to the feeling of being hit by a round of Japan's famous bullet trains, but they too had to deal with the cool November air nipping at their flesh throughout the night.
'Ah—Ah—Ahchooo!' Draco sneezed wetly, making the others at the table cringe, fearful of catching what Hermione referred to as 'a death of a cold'.
'Bless you,' Hermione mumbled, eyebrow raised slightly as she noticed Meiling give Draco a particularly sharp glare. Draco responded with a muffled grunt as he took a cautious bite of the congee. It seemed sleeping outdoors affected Draco most. He had awoken stripped down to nothing but his underpants, his face buried in the dirt as though he had fallen asleep serenading it.
Chibiusa descended down the staircase dressed in a thick-knit cardigan and leggings. She trudged past Tomoyo and Meiling, her head down as she took a seat at the table. She was careful not to glance in Trunks' direction in so doing, as just the very sight of him made her face turn bright red like a cherry. She awoke in the living room sofa that morning, dressed in her sailor uniform. The smell of stale vomit sickened her as she looked down and saw the stain down her front. When she sat upright, she noticed sprawled on a tatami mat beside her, a loudly snoring Trunks. He had fallen asleep beside her, while watching her, she suspected. Now seated at the table, she wondered what events of the night had led to that point. Ultimately, she didn't remember a thing. Yet, judging from his cautious movements around her that morning, not to mention his predisposition for knocking things over in her presence, she knew something unusual had occurred.
Trunks peered at Chibiusa from behind a carton of milk. He watched as she chewed tensely, purposely paying him no mind. He couldn't help but stare at her. After all, she essentially declared she was in love with him. Well, of course, she didn't actually say so. But it was obvious from her flirtatious manner and the way she begged for his attention that night that she must have felt something. Sure, she had been drunk—drunk to the point that she blacked-out and didn't remember a thing— but that must have only meant she truly felt something deep down. Right?
Trunks grimaced as he recalled the moment that Chibiusa had thrown up on them both before passing out. He carried her inside and placed her on the couch before going off to change himself. He didn't know what to do in such an awkward situation, but he found a place beside her and gazed up from the floor. He watched her peaceful, sleeping face…and then he too fell asleep. He awoke that morning with the worst pain in his neck, and as he winced, looking around he saw Chibiusa no longer on the sofa; instead he saw the disaster that had become Sakura and Tomoyo's home in the wake of their drunken escapade. That's when reality had hit him. He groaned, dragging a spoon through the congee before scooping it into his mouth and swallowing hard. This was not quite how he expected to feel on the day after his birthday.
'Found it!' a voice announced gruffly.
'Blimey!' breathed Ron, his spoon slipping from his fingers and falling to the floor with a small twang.
Everyone looked up as a dishevelled Harry entered the room like a soldier returned from war. His clothes, torn and smeared with dirt, hung pathetically off his narrow frame. He exhaled deeply as he collapsed into a seat, his messy hair adorned with a crown of twigs and grass. Harry's infamous lightening-bolt scar paled in comparison to the scratches, dry blood crusting like sap, on his face. In his outstretched hand was a mangled bit of metal and plastic: what had become of his spectacles. He looked as though he had spent the better part of the morning blindly searching the grounds for them.
'Goodness, Harry!' Hermione cried. 'You ought to clean yourself up!'
'I know,' he moaned, raking a hand through his hair, making bits of grass fall to the floor. 'Maybe—maybe later. I just need a minute.' He looked as though his entire body ached.
'Here, eat,' Meiling mumbled, shoving a bowl in his face. He muttered a 'thanks' before his eyes searched the room for Tomoyo. Tomoyo looked blankly at him. It was the most unreadable of expressions. The energy between them was different today. Tomoyo lowered her head, her long hair pooling across her face as she turned, prepared to exit to the kitchen, teapot clutched in her hands.
All of a sudden, Sakura's winged guardian, Kero, flew into the room, arms folded as he observed them. Behind him, on all-fours was Chibiusa's cat guardian, Diana.
'Okay, you kids!' Kero said stridently, forcing their attentions on him.
'Another lecture, stuffed animal?' Meiling muttered, her left eye twitching as she finally took her own seat at the table. Kero had flown around the house the entire morning, shaking his head, antagonizing and nagging them as they cleaned. Though he had been gone for the last hour and a half, subdued by Tomoyo feeding him several cartons of pudding, he returned, still with more to say.
'I don't think I have to tell you,' Kero continued, eyes shut as he ignored Meiling, 'that your actions last night were incredibly irresponsible—dangerous even, given what you are currently dealing with.'
Diana nodded, passing an eye over a very embarrassed-looking Chibiusa. 'You have no idea how vulnerable you all would have been should the enemy have presented itself.'
Trunks pushed his seat back, its legs scraping the floor as he stood. He bowed deeply.
'It's my fault!' Trunks uttered sorrowfully. 'Please don't blame them. If anyone is to blame, it's me.'
The others watched him, mouths agape.
'No, that's not right, mate,' Ron cleared his throat as he stood as well. 'It wasn't just you.'
'I suppose I had my role as well,' Draco sniffed, wiping his nose with a handkerchief. He stared off in a daze, looking as though he were just entering the first stages of a bad fever.
'You just "suppose"?' Hermione shot Draco a glare before shutting her book abruptly. They jumped in their seats. 'I think we all have to take responsibility for what happened here.' She held a steady gaze on Kero and Diana before turning to Tomoyo. 'I'm sorry—we're truly sorry for our actions. I'm sorry for what we've done to your house. And it's true that we let our guard down. We can't—we mustn't let it happen again.'
The others nodded in agreement, the atmosphere heavy and serious. At that moment, they heard the front doors open and close quietly. They saw Sakura and Syaoran, their shadows against the wall, as they passed by and stamped up the stairs.
'Hey,' muttered Ron giving a confused look at the others. 'What's up with those two? I haven't seen them all day.'
Meiling knitted her brows as she stared after where they left, also looking puzzled. 'I didn't even realise they were out. When did they leave?'
Tomoyo sighed, seeming to finally decide it opportune to leave for the kitchen. As she left, they heard the high-pitched 'mew' of the large analogue Hello Kitty clock, signalling yet another hour gone by.
'Oh no!' cried Hermione. She snatched up her books hastily, and then pulled herself away from the dining table. 'It's getting late. We're running out of study time.' Hermione then spun on her heel and darted out of the room, her thick, mass of hair (notably unkempt) fluttering behind her. The others groaned loudly. They proceeded to gorge hurriedly at the remainder of their meal.
Kero peered dolefully at the staircase where Sakura and Syaoran had disappeared, a frown forming on his face, as though he knew everything was about to change.
Syaoran stood waiting anxiously, almost ironically in the same place that he and Sakura had shared their first kiss many months ago.
What would he do, if he really was a father now? Was he ready? He loved Sakura, he knew he did, but it felt like it was all too much, too soon. Certainly he felt terrified, but how must she be feeling? If she was indeed ... what would they do? Especially when they were facing an imminent battle with an unknown foe. The battles they had endured had intensified in difficulty with each repercussion. How could they possibly bring a new life into the thick of it?
He heard the glass door slide open, struggling slightly against the grit that had accumulated in the groove in the floor. Sakura slipped through the gap, she and her reflection flowing in unison, resembling an amoeba splitting into two.
He felt a rush of relief when he saw the weak smile.
'It's fine, we're all clear,' she said, moving to stand beside him. 'I tried it three times.'
He brought an arm around her shoulders and rubbed her arm. 'Thank goodness!'
He pulled away when she didn't lean into him. He inspected her face, which was set in a serious expression as she stared out over the back garden, a slight breeze playing in her fringe.
'You were terrified,' she whispered, 'more than me.'
Syaoran shrugged, but immediately regretted the gesture when she turned to him with a pained expression. 'We're just really young,' he said robotically, 'and exams are approaching, and it's becoming more dangerous, with the enemy.'
Sakura nodded once, and pulled her cardigan tighter around herself.
'Sakura,' he said quietly. 'Please tell me how you feel.'
Her gaze seemed to harden as she looked up. 'Honestly? If something had happened, I would have taken responsibility. But I am not prepared for such adult responsibilities. I'm angry at myself for letting down my guard ... angry about what we did.'
'What we did? Sakura, I'm sorry neither of us remembers, but I don't regret it.'
'I just wanted to be a kid for a bit longer.' She consciously moved away from him. 'It's something that we can't take back.'
Syaoran shook his head weakly, feeling frustrated. 'Sakura, it's okay!'
'No, it's not,' Sakura exclaimed, pushing hair out of her face. 'You looked horrified – would you have stayed?'
'Don't be stupid. Of course I would!' Syaoran cried. 'Don't just assume!'
'Stupid?' she yelled, tears starting to slide down her cheeks. 'Well I can't help but be "stupid"! I've seen the way you look at her!'
Syaoran felt his stomach drop. 'What do you mean?'
Sakura's eyes shone under knitted brows. 'Don't lie! I know. I suppose I'm not as stupid as you think I am?'
'Sakura, please, wait – don't do this,' he said, his heart racing. 'It's nothing, please, let's sit down and talk –'
Sakura shook her head. 'I'm done talking. If you like staring so much, you can stare at each other – alone.'
'Sakura, no ...'
Sakura sobbed, spun on her toes and sprinted inside.
Apart from pudding, videogames and naps, Kero occasionally took interest in the peculiar interactions of the human household. For example, he had noticed that Sakura and Syaoran were not talking. This was strange, given their usual predisposition to expounding nauseating proclamations of love. It must have been those mysterious things called teenage hormones, he reasoned. What bothered him the most was that they resorted to communicate through a long chain of people, for example: 'Sakura spoke to Tomoyo, who prompted Ron, who told Hermione to query Meiling, to ask Syaoran to please pass the salt.' Kero had had enough, and sought out Syaoran in the training room one evening after homework.
'Hey, kid,' Kero said, distracting Syaoran who was alone, practising weaving movements with his sword.
Syaoran wiped the sweat from his forehead and turned to Kero, who hovered before him mid-flight. 'Oh, Kero ...'
'You and Sakura,' Kero said flatly, folding his arms. 'You're not talking.'
A muscle twitched in Syaoran's jaw. 'Yeah ... we had a fight. We got freaked out about something, and ...' He sighed as Kero twitched an eyebrow, '- I'm working on an apology. I'm not great at those.'
Kero blinked and thought back to the night that he had been woken by Sakura and Syaoran's annoying kiddish giggling. The next morning they had acted strangely and ran out of the house, and when they returned, they had stopped speaking to each other.
'If it has something to do with the other night, I saw everything, so maybe I can help,' Kero said, opening his paws.
Syaoran blanched. 'Ev-Everything?'
'Yeah, you guys were really annoying and loud,' Kero groaned, recalling with irritation. For some reason, this made Syaoran cough loudly and grimace. 'You slammed the door and woke me up with your stupid giggling. Then Sakura yelled that she was dizzy and tired and flopped onto the bed, then you complained loudly about it being hot and took off your shirt, then you collapsed beside her. Then you snored a lot, also loudly. Yeah, that was the most annoying part.'
Syaoran's brown eyes widened in what looked like revelation. 'That's what happened? That's all?'
Kero nodded. 'Yeah. So, now I understand. From an objective third-party observer, I can see now that Sakura can't stand your snoring, raised this issue with you, and not being able to handle constructive criticism, you got offended and conversely offended Sakura,' he deduced professionally.
'That's ... totally it,' Syaoran agreed slowly. 'I need to find her.'
Kero grinned. 'Oh, this should be good.'
They moved from the training room into the living room, where Sakura was nestled in a sofa, staring down at a science text book in confusion. She looked up when they entered, and her face rearranged into an expressionless mask.
'Sakura,' Syaoran stammered and kneeled before her, grinning broadly. 'I have something to tell you!'
Sakura shook her head gently, and even as Syaoran muttered 'But – but –' she was up on her feet and disappeared into the kitchen.
Syaoran's shoulders sagged as he kneeled on the floor, his knuckles curling limply. 'She won't even talk to me.'
'I guess you really offended her, huh?' Kero said helpfully, leaning back as he hovered in the air beside Syaoran's head.
'Yeah,' Syaoran sighed, running a hand down his face in frustration.
The Fifth Month
The wind whistled ominously through the trees, rustling its dwindling foliage, sending leaves through the air and colouring an otherwise bleak, dull sky. It was finally December, coming dangerously close to end of term. Though still some weeks away, the holidays were fast on everyone's minds as they longed for an end to the cacophony of exam stress. It seemed like there was no end to the pressure, no end to the frustration and no end to the study sessions. Student and club activities still kept everyone on their toes, and it seemed the 10 teenagers rarely saw each other, let alone steal a moment to consider their mission against 'Karasu'
It was difficult times indeed, and everyone was on edge. Tomoyo stared absently at the chalkboard as the science teacher, Toyota-sensei, scratched formulas in white chalk. Tomoyo frowned sadly as she observed Sakura who looked sleepily ahead, her head bobbing as though fighting to stay awake. Sakura was particularly burnt out. In her final year, she was forced to make important decisions about which universities to apply to—if such a decision could even be made. It really didn't help that Sakura still hadn't decided what she wanted. It certainly wasn't helpful that she had just returned (along with Syaoran) from their last regional track meet of the year, and she was physically exhausted. It especially didn't help that she and Syaoran seemed to have an uncomfortable and strained relationship as of late, for reasons Sakura did not explain. So, Tomoyo supposed, the last thing Sakura needed on top of all that anxiety, was to be the prime target of an evil, un-dead, mass-murdering wizard. Tomoyo jumped slightly as Sakura's drooping head suddenly shot up, catching herself falling asleep. It was frightening, every time she had done this. Tomoyo turned her head away sharply and caught a glimpse of Sanrio from the corner of her eye. It was strange. It seemed for the last two weeks he had been less eccentric than usual. He would be lurking through the halls looking light-headed and cautious. She even noted though he still made his usual glares in Harry's direction, he no longer made an effort to engage either of them.
'And so,' said Toyota, clearing her throat as she turned away from the chalkboard towards the class, 'as we are already aware, the average atomic mass of an element must be interpreted carefully. Who recalls the average atomic mass of carbon?'
The class stared dully, their faces as blank as the winter skyline. The teacher frowned dejectedly, before with clear hesitation, turning to Sanrio. To her amazement, he appeared completely indifferent, his shoulders hunched over, his chin buried in the palm of his hand and gaze averted out the window.
'Er…Kamenosuke?' she called cautiously.
Sanrio crooked his head slowly, an impassive expression etched onto his face. 'What?'
The entire class turned to stare at him, their jaws on the floor.
'Um,' Toyota sputtered, thoroughly taken aback. 'Perhaps, you know the atomic mass of carbon? Or can explain to the class the relationship between atomic mass and isotopes?'
Sanrio stared coolly behind shining, thick glasses, his face still nestled in his hand. 'I, explain? With all due respect, Sensei, isn't that your job?'
'You're kidding!' Ron gasped, regarding the others with disbelief. 'He really said that?'
Sakura nodded slowly, a yawn escaping her lips as she exchanged a glance with Tomoyo. Harry was similarly confused, his book bag strewn over his shoulder as he watched Ron, Syaoran and Meiling slide on their shoes for the walk home. He also noticed the weird way Sanrio had been behaving, no longer seeming to make the effort to speak with his usual long-winded jargon or challenge him to one of many 'duels'. Though Harry didn't care to dwell on it much, relishing the change in Sanrio's personality— it unsettled him. He couldn't rid the horrible discomfort he felt within his gut when he thought of it.
'What's gotten into him then?' Meiling asked, now pulling her own bag onto her back.
'I wonder,' Tomoyo said thoughtfully. 'Could the pressure have finally gotten to him?'
'No way.' Syaoran crossed his arms. 'That guy is nuts about school.'
Ron threw Syaoran a sardonic glance as he gave a strident, 'Ha! You know who else is nuts about school: Hermione. She's gone bonkers more than a few times. As we speak, she's probably hyperventilating at the library.'
The group continued their conversation as they headed out through the front doors. While they walked on they noticed Draco in the distance, chortling with his usual gang of Muggle acquaintances, the Gochikku-kei. Meiling gave a strangled sigh as she turned her head quickly, pretending not to see.
'That one's got a few bolts loose himself,' Ron muttered to Syaoran who nodded in agreement whilst frowning bitterly in Draco's direction.
Draco turned in his bed, groaning as the sunlight poured into the room through partially closed curtains. It was finally Sunday morning, the dawn of a single day in which he didn't have to go to school, and as such he loathed the thought of anything forcing him awake before he was willing. It was bad enough he had spent the last two weeks fighting either a horrible a cold, a miserable hangover or a painful round of studying. Even with some of those things behind him, they were the least of his problems. His only moment of solace came when he was asleep: the one time he could have even the slightest chance to flee from his innermost demons or the torturous thoughts about the task bestowed upon him. With eyes shut tightly, Draco pulled the covers over his face and tried to resume his slumber. Yet, it was too no avail. He flung the covers aside and sat upright. Reality was so unforgiving at times. He stared vacantly at the window before he noticed something dark peeking through the curtains. He flinched, mildly surprised. He jumped to his feet approached the window to draw back the curtains.
Finally Draco saw, in its entirety, the eagle-owl and its gaunt figure perched on the window sill as its deep, blood-red eyes peered back at him. Gulping deeply, Draco opened the window and eyed a single roll of parchment. He retrieved it from the owl's steely talons and unravelled it. It was from his mother. He read it carefully, a lump in his throat as he strained to see the writing through a blur of tears.
We haven't heard much word from you of late…
I hope you are well and I send my love...
Your father is not pleased, but we have faith you will not disappoint us…
You must join her soon…
Draco re-read the few lines fretfully. They stood out like flaming words seared across the wall. Unconsciously he placed a hand onto his left arm, as the memory flooded back …
Draco stared impassively at the floor, his pale eyes as empty and forlorn as the vast crevices of Malfoy Manor. He slowly raised his head, his body shuddering in terror. His gaze fell disbelievingly onto his father once more.
'He's really back?'
'The Dark Lord had specifically requested your assistance,' Lucius continued as he stood broodingly, a hand rested idly on the mantle of the great fireplace.
'But—I-I can't,' Draco started.
'You will and you must! You will serve Dark Raven with dignity,' Lucius thundered, his robes billowing as he approached his son, standing square in front of him. 'Don't you know what an honour it is? At your age? Such a fine request.'
Draco looked down again, his brow furrowed as he glared at the floor. His fingers clenched into tight fists. Lucius placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
'Don't looks so glum, Draco. Don't you want greatness? Don't you want to finally rid of The-Boy-Who-Lived?'
Draco wiped away roughly at the tears that had leaked from his eyes. Breathing deeply, he shut his eyes, the letter now crumpled in his grasp and dampened with perspiration. There was a sudden echoing down the hall, and he could hear footsteps approaching. Draco sprang forwards, shoving the piece of parchment under his mattress. He folded his arms rigidly and tried to compose himself as the door creaked open.
'Draco?' Meiling's ruby eyes peered through the crack of the door. Her face lit up into a bright smile as she entered and shut the door softly behind her. 'You're awake!' She bounded forward and pulled him into a tight embrace.
Draco flinched slightly as he looked down at her.
'Oh. And as are you?'
'Of course, baka!' she said. 'Baka' had clearly become her favourite Japanese word. 'Have you eaten yet? It's well past breakfast.'
Draco swallowed hard as he shook his head weakly, awkwardly returning her hug.
'Hey,' she purred. She cocked her head and their eyes locked. 'Since you haven't eaten, want to go out for brunch together? I've heard there are some places in Tokyo.'
Draco's face formed into a serious, thoughtful expression. Finally, he smiled fallaciously before pushing her away.
'Not today. I have plans.'
'What?' Meiling looked offended, her hands on her hips as she glowered at him. 'What plans?'
Draco treaded heavily over to his closet and pulled out a cloak and a winter coat which he hastily threw on. 'I'm going to Harajuku today.'
'Harajuku,' Meiling muttered, remembering the famous Tokyo district. 'You're going shopping? I want to come!'
Draco half-smiled as he adjusted the collar of his coat and pulled at the zip. He drew out a fur-lined aviator hat and rotated it down onto his head like a screw bottle top. 'Are you sure? It's cold out.' He passed her as he approached the door.
Meiling pouted and made to pull him back. 'I don't care. Let's go together!'
Draco turned sharply, seeming to surprise her as he gripped her shoulders. He glared. 'No.'
Meiling's eyes narrowed. It had finally occurred to her.
'You're going with them, aren't you?'
Draco smirked. Groaning heavily, Meiling shoved his arms away and flounced past him for the door, mumbling under her breath. 'Stupid Rat.'
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked on balefully as Draco shuffled past them and out the door. They then watched as Meiling came skulking around a corner and peered out the window. She grumbled before whirling around and marching away, her tiny Chihuahua scuttling behind her. Harry scrambled upwards and peeked through the window where Meiling had just looked. He saw just as the taxi pulled off, presumably with Draco inside.
'Wonder where he's off to?' Harry asked, turning back to rejoin the others on the couch.
Ron shrugged, as he finally sealed his letter for delivery and attached it carefully to Pig, who shuffled and chirped excitedly. 'Quit it, will you? Stay still!'
Harry looked at the owl thoughtfully as he took his seat beside Ron. He often wondered how Pig was able to make the long journey to and back from The Burrow, particularly with his clear inability to keep focus.
Hermione frowned as she gazed down at a newly arrived copy of the Daily Prophet that she simply placed upon her ever-growing stack of newspapers. Harry regarded it attentively, considering that it had been a while since he had read the Daily Prophet himself.
'I don't know what to do, Harry,' Hermione began miserably, her eyes looking up to meet his. 'I've been so busy I haven't had time to read any of them. They've been piling up for weeks.'
Harry nodded slowly, thinking that it was like she had read his mind. 'We've been so busy. I'm still ploughing though all that mess from the Bookstore about dimensions.'
Having finally secured his Owl Post letter to Pig, Ron opened the window and set him off.
'About that research, eh—haven't found a thing.' Ron sighed as he collapsed onto the coach, leaning back with his arms rested behind his head. 'I reckon we can focus on it again after exams. It's just so much to deal with now.'
Hermione seemed to share the sentiment as she carefully picked up her stack and placed it on the floor, carefully stowing it into a corner where it would be hidden from view from the maids. From a sidelong glance, she noticed Harry looking particularly disgruntled. He had received another Owl from Ginny, and not only did he once more ignore it, he had thrown it in the rubbish bin.
'What's up with you?' Ron said. He too noticed Harry looking upset. 'She couldn't have bothered you that much, could she?'
Harry shot him a glare as he crossed his arms guardedly. 'It's not that! It's …' he paused, his eyes looking sad as the words spilled forth, 'it's Sirius.'
'Ginny is serious?' Ron asked, looking confused.
Harry gave him a blank stare. 'My godfather.'
'Oh …' Hermione and Ron gave each other a glance before giving Harry a pressing look, urging him to continue.
'I haven't heard from him lately. Everyday I keep looking out for Hedwig—but nothing. I'm wondering if everything's okay. And he's supposed to come out of hiding soon. He's gotten things cleared at the Ministry by now, I'm sure.'
Hermione shook her head slowly, stroking her chin. 'It is peculiar, isn't it? I haven't heard from Lupin, either.'
Meiling sighed as she ran a comb through Chi-Tun's short, wiry fur. The small dog turned to stare up at her with large, mournful eyes.
A darkness loomed over her. She felt the hairline cracks in her resolve, splintering to expose her weaknesses. A major crack was Draco. It hadn't been the first time he had cast aside the notion of going on a date, or of their being a couple, but it seemed to be that one thing to break her. It wasn't enough to be physically strong, or smart, or pretty. She had no magic running through her veins, a notion which was highly revered by Draco's old wizarding family. She could not offer him anything.
'Why do I even bother?' she asked Chi-Tun. 'I try so hard to be good at something, try to be worthy of love, but I never get it.' She lowered the comb and felt a thick knot in her throat. She bent down and clutched Chi-Tun to her chest as he whimpered. 'What is the point?'
She forced back tears and stumbled into the hallway towards Tomoyo's bedroom, Chi-Tun padding at her feet, claws clacking on the wooden floorboards.
Tomoyo was seated at her sewing desk, hair tied back in a crude ponytail as her careful hands guided a blue hem across white cotton.
Meiling knocked against the panel of the open door. Tomoyo looked up and smiled. Meiling traced a finger along the ornate carving of the doorknob. 'Are you free to talk?'
'Of course,' Tomoyo replied, pulling away from the desk and patting the edge of her bed.
Meiling slinked across the room and sank onto the plush covers, Chi-Tun waddling in to sit at her feet, small tail wagging slowly. She drew a deep sigh.
'I'm not feeling great,' she said, her voice wavering. She tried to compose herself, but the tears stung her eyes. 'I'm useless, aren't I? Just a waste of space. I don't help in any battles.'
Tomoyo frowned and wrapped slender fingers around Meiling's. 'That's not true,' Tomoyo said calmly, 'you are a valuable member of our team.'
Meiling looked up at her. 'How can you be so sure?'
Tomoyo squeezed Meiling's hands. 'I have doubted myself in the past, questioned why I was chosen to be part of this along with the others. I still don't quite know what I offer. But what I have come to understand is that I am one piece of a puzzle. It's like what Dumbledore wrote at the beginning: we each have a special power. Without all the pieces in place, the whole thing falls apart. And you, Meiling, you are valued; you are important.'
The words were like ripples of light in the darkness. Meiling almost didn't want to hear them, feeling so low down about herself, like she didn't deserve them. The heat rose in her face as she scrunched up her eyes.
'But I have no magic!' she whispered loudly.
Tomoyo shepherded Meiling into her arms. Chi-Tun whimpered beneath them. 'Magic doesn't make the person. You – you are a wonderful person.'
Meiling rocked in Tomoyo's arms. 'Thank you, Tomoyo.'
She wondered in the midst of her emotions, how Tomoyo felt about all this? Did she feel the same way about Harry, the way Meiling felt about Draco? She felt it best to remain silent, enjoying the sensation and reminder that she had a dear friend.
Homework was temporarily aborted as eyes snapped to the front entrance. The door slammed open, announcing the gust of cool air and the odd-looking punk. He wore an elegant long leather trench coat lined with silver buckles and grey trim, paired with knee-high leather boots, black pants, and topped with an explosion of spiked blond hair.
'Is that eyeliner?' Chibiusa intoned as she exchanged a nonplussed look with Hermione.
'Guyliner,' Draco corrected, using his fingers to tweeze sharper points into the hair near his eyes.
'Draco, that's ... an interesting look,' Sakura supplied with a strained smile.
Tomoyo nodded and said nothing. It was a wonder she did not comment, given her skill with designing and creating interesting clothes.
'Yes, I suppose it is. Apparently I look like "Ruki from The Gazette" or something.' Draco smirked and strut into the entrance, not bothering to remove his boots, as was the custom. 'I daresay this is my new look.'
'Are those leggings?' Ron snickered, his eyes darting towards Harry who's face screwed up as though fighting with great effort to contain his laughter.
'Meggings,' Draco corrected him loftily. When they gave him a blank look, he sighed impatiently, 'Men and leggings abbreviated.'
'My, look at you, being all modern and down with the Muggles,' Hermione said offhandedly, returning to her book.
Draco glared. 'They worship me. I don't see anyone crawling on their knees, writing epithets in praise of how annoyingly bookish you are.'
Hermione stood to her feet and shot him a dark look. 'I haven't seen you studying. Why are you even here?'
'Um – um –' Sakura stuttered, but then looked relieved as Meiling entered the room, carrying a tray of tea.
'What on Earth are you wearing?' she muttered as she set the tray down and stomped over, eyeing Draco's new outfit critically. 'You can't wear that ... you look like a cosplayer.'
'I'll wear what I like!' Draco cried, indignant. 'Besides, my legs look great in these.'
Meiling folded her arms and stared a little too long at his derrière. She did not say anything more, but lifted her nose in the air and left the room.
Meiling was improving. She could finally create strong ki-blasts that did more than simply fall limply and smoulder on the floor. These ones were almost devastating, burning their training dummies to cinders.
Trunks seemed pretty happy with her training, giving her the appropriate amount of compliments and leaving for lunch. She turned to the magically animated punching bag, which had collected dust since their last confrontation. However, at her attention, the punching bag quivered to life and lifted its rubbery boxing-glove arms in anticipation.
She tightened the muscles in her core, and drew in her energy. Like a leaf drawing light from the sun, she felt rivets of energy pull into her centre, collecting like a water reservoir, until it was brimming at the top. She thrust her arms forwarded and let forth a vocal cry and a wave of brilliant energy. The punching bag realised too late that she did not want to spar, and exploded with a loud bang, like a balloon bursting from too much air, and fell to shreds on the floor.
She was determined to be more than simply 'strong for a human' or 'strong for a Muggle', she wanted to win in battle, and not sit helplessly on the sidelines as her magical counterparts assumed the glory of victory.
She continued with this mantra as she stomped determinedly towards school, alone, for the first time in a long time, awake earlier than the rest of the household.
As she weaved past the school gates, she suddenly noticed a strange boy. He wasn't very tall and she could see that even through the boy's school uniform he was lean but toned. He casually carried a bag over one shoulder, a crown of deep red hair framing dark-rimmed eyes and a pale face. He was not handsome, but something about him had a preternatural beauty, and she had to shut her gaping mouth as he turned to regard her with piercing, pale, bottle-green eyes.
They stared at each other for a moment. His lips moved into an easy smirk and he winked at her before striding towards the main entrance.
She felt her cheeks grow warm, but she quickly suppressed the feeling. She was not going to go weak in the knees simply by seeing a pretty boy. She was done being a pathetic girl fawning over guys.
As usual the gang sat in the cafeteria for their lunch. The difference was that a considerable amount of their crew was notably absent. Most of the girls had chosen to spend their time on additional study. Meiling found herself sitting at the table with Syaoran, Fondu, Sumi and Trunks.
'Hana poked me in the back five times today!' Syaoran snapped, angrily stabbing his rice ball with his chopsticks and shoving it into his mouth. 'Can a girl be more annoying than her?'
Fondu nodded bemusedly. 'Only five today? It's usually seven!'
Sumi grinned furtively, playfully brushing the fringe from out of his eyes as he leaned in close, shoving his face into Syaoran's. 'Maybe it's 'cause you have such gorgeous eyes.'
Syaoran choked suddenly, bits of rice flying from his mouth. Thinking quickly, Trunks swat him vigorously on the back, forcing him to bowl over. Sumi ducked as Syaoran's food shot out of his mouth and spluttered out into bits onto his cousin's face.
'UGH!'
Meiling shot out of her seat angrily, frantically wiping away the mess as though she had been touched by acid. Fondu howled with laughter while Sumi offered sympathetic apologies. Still caught in a coughing fit, Syaoran glowered at Trunks before glancing apologetically at Meiling.
Meiling picked up her belongings and left. She was done with their silly antics. She stormed through the halls until she could find herself a secluded spot in the stairs along the side of a building block. She pulled out a handbook she had taken from the library on strengthening exercises. She was still determined to get stronger at all costs in order to prove her worth. She flipped through some pages, skimming through lengths of text. She felt her eyelids grow heavy as the words seemed to blur together. She couldn't focus.
'Ugh … tired,' she moaned as she threw her head back and gaped up at the ceiling, her ponytails washing behind her back like black ink. 'There must be an easier way.'
'If you're tired, maybe you need a break.'
Meiling jumped suddenly, lowering her head to see standing before her the red-haired boy from earlier that morning. Her back straightened as though icy fingers traced up and down her spine. His eyes were too clear, too green.
'Wh-What …' she trailed off, feeling unable to look away and unable to think.
'Pardon my interruption, Senpai.' He said, his sharp stare unwavering. 'I noticed you seem stressed out about something.'
Meiling blushed furiously, unthinkingly shielding her face behind her handbook. 'N-No. It's—I'm fine.'
His eyes seemed to shift and focus on the book cover, as he read the title. He smiled coyly before crossing his arms. Finally catching her breath, she brought the book down and shoved it into her bag. She quickly scrambled to her feet and smoothed her uniform jacket and skirt as she tried to regain her composure. The boy's eyes seemed to linger.
She felt unsettled and flustered but tried to force a glare. He was only a few inches taller but something about him was still intimidating.
'What do you want? Why do you keep staring at me like that?'
He shoved his hands in his pockets as he blinked and looked down at her. 'Nothing, but … I was just thinking, Senpai, that you are very pretty.'
Meiling's breath hitched as her grip tightened on her bag strap. He smirked once more, then turned and walked away.
'Who does he think he is?' Draco growled under his breath, glowering after the red-haired boy that had approached Meiling then departed down the hall. The boy had looked like a loser, short, ugly and thin. Why would Meiling even engage with him?
'Oh, he's so cool,' Mitsu tittered, her blue curls swaying as she inclined her head. 'He's got good style! Hachi—it's him, isn't it? He's the one from that band?'
Hachi nodded, his face encapsulated by a broad smile. 'Yes. I've been dying to hear them play again.'
The others muttered in agreement. Draco inhaled sharply through his nostrils and stalked over to Meiling, who seemed to be in a trance as she clutched her bag tightly. When had his leather boots become so constraining and squeaky? He felt uncomfortably hot and chaffed in the body-hugging wear.
'Who's he?' he demanded, his face warm. His spiked hair was suddenly very annoying near his eyes. He pushed his hair back roughly.
Meiling turned to regard him briefly. She blinked, shrugged and walked away with an easy stride.
Draco was nonplussed. She walked away from him? When did she ever do that? She usually clung tightly to his arm, her body pressed close like a fungus as she crooned like a lovesick pelican. Something was off. He turned and felt that he wanted to rip off the boots, the coat, everything.
'What's his name?' he asked Mitsu, flustered as he returned to his darkly clothed posse.
Mitsu was about to open her mouth when suddenly a thundering voice interjected..
'You delinquents!' roared their school principal, Suzuki-sensei, adjusting his glasses as he stomped vexingly towards them. 'What are you doing mulling about out of uniform? Outrageous!'
'Crap! Let's bail!' muttered Kane, quickly turning on his heel.
'I guess it ends early, today.' sighed Edward.
'Hey—come back here! Do you even attend this school?' Suzuki yelled after them.
The group was off, bounding down the hall and out the door, their shoes clacking frantically against linoleum floors as a livid and beet-faced Draco stumbled amongst them.
After dinner and a brief study session, the Phoenix Fighters sat about in the living room reading their Owls, some sprawled across floor cushions, others curled into lumpy couches, flanked by even lumpier pillows. Meiling was the only one absent, having descended to the training room to practice.
Hermione sighed dramatically as she pushed aside her letters and crawled towards the large pile of newspapers piled on the floor.
'Oh dear, I've finally made a start on those papers,' she said.
'A bit of light reading, eh?' Ron joked as he finished reading an Owl from his father. He shuffled over to pick up a colourful magazine. 'Err, Hermione? Why do we have The Quibbler? It's complete garbage.'
'We've got to cover all bases,' Hermione explained, leafing through another paper.
'Like a nice recipe for Plimpy scones?' Ron said, flipping through the pages.
Draco growled from his place on the couch, looking like a plucked cockatoo. His spiked blonde hair fell limply over his eyes, and there were eyeliner smudges beneath his clear narrowed eyes. His growl caused Errol-Number-Two to screech in terror and tumble into Chibiusa's lap.
'I think this bird is about ready to retire,' Chibiusa said, stroking the quivering owl. Tomoyo smiled fondly at the kind gesture.
'All right, Rat?' Ron asked half-jokingly.
Draco glared back.
'You're in a foul mood,' Syaoran remarked to Draco, leaning on his haunches.
'Oh yeah? Well, you're bloody annoying!' Draco replied tartly, jerking to his feet. 'I'm done for the night.' He stomped between a surprised Trunks and Harry and up the stairs.
'He doesn't get much mail, does he?' Chibiusa said observantly, smiling as Errol-Number-Two crooned sleepily in her lap. 'Not surprising, considering how surly he is.'
'He never gets mail,' Harry piped up, holding a small pile of envelopes. 'Does it have to get any more obvious? Any correspondence he does must be kept discreet. He's obviously up to something.'
'No,' Sakura said instantly. 'We've already talked about this. Draco can be trusted.'
'Oh, come on, Sakura!' Syaoran exclaimed, making her head jerk in his direction, looking shocked that he would address her so directly, since the two had not spoken for several days. 'We get that you see the goodness in everyone, but sometimes, no matter how much you reach for it, it just isn't there.'
'No, she's right,' Trunks said, folding his arms defensively. 'He might be a bit stuck-up, but he's not an overall bad guy.'
'You can't say anything! You haven't been going to school with him for six years!' Ron jeered.
'Oh? What about Syaoran? Weren't you all a bit judgy towards him at first?' Trunks inquired, having been told by Sakura about their years together at Hogwarts.
The tips of Ron's ears went red. 'Yeah, but …'
Syaoran glared at Trunks. 'You don't know anything about me!'
'Oh? I'm pretty sure you're a self-assured ass!' Trunks replied angrily.
'Well, at least I don't try to convince others that's my real hair colour,' Syaoran snapped.
'Hey, what part of "alien" don't you understand?' Trunks retaliated.
'Guys, could you maybe calm down? I think the owl is about to have an apoplexy,' Chibiusa said nervously. Errol-Number-Two's eyes had grown alarmingly big.
'NO!' Syaoran and Trunks snapped at Chibiusa in unison, sending Errol-Number-Two reeling onto his back, wings splayed as he hooted weakly.
'Honestly! All this fighting isn't getting us anywhere!' Hermione cried, waving the roll of parchment in frustration, her hair bristling. 'I can't read all these papers myself. Can someone please help me? We haven't a clue what's going on back home and Dumbledore's been awfully quiet lately.'
'I'll help,' Sakura volunteered quietly, her face hidden behind a curtain of auburn hair as she crawled over to assist Hermione.
It was silent for a moment as Syaoran and Trunks glared at each other, and the others made to distract themselves with mail.
Harry ripped open a small envelope and paused. It was the fourth letter from her in a short period. 'It's Ginny again.'
The tense atmosphere transitioned into awkward territory, as Harry caught Tomoyo's gaze briefly. Her face could have been a mask: inscrutable, revealing no emotion.
'How long are you going to avoid her? You might as well figure out what she wants,' Ron said as he unrolled a newspaper in a half-hearted attempt to assist Hermione.
'Ron's right,' Hermione said, looking past frizzy wisps of her hair to cast a serious look at Harry. 'You really should see what she says.'
Harry felt a twinge of annoyance and pushed himself to stand. 'I'll finish reading the other letters in my room.'
He did not read that letter, and much like he had done with the previous letters, he scrunched it into a tight ball and tossed it into the bin.
Now, Harry stood alone in his room. His face brightened, noticing he finally got what he wanted: a response from Sirius. However, once he opened the envelope he realised there was no letter, so he stared, his hands gripping a torn page of The Daily Prophet. In the top right corner where there was blank space was an etched 'Sorry, Harry'. His hands trembled as he read the article in full.
'BLACK IS BACK,' the title read in bold gothic letters, crowning a grainy, animated photo of Sirius as he glared over a black placard bearing his name. Even in the grainy photo Harry could see the grime buried under Sirius' nails as he grasped the placard.
'The Ministry of Magic is in chaos, as they continue to send Aurors to investigate the mysterious attacks occurring in Tomoeda, Japan. Civilian casualties have grown in the hundreds.
This latest slew of attacks is undoubtedly tied to the re-emergence of Sirius Black, an extremely dangerous criminal and notorious supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Black is famously known for his shocking escape from Azakaban where he was sentenced for the murder of Peter Pettigrew and numerous Muggles.
While the Ministry denies it is Black, the public remains suspicious as many believe it is a ruse to avoid responsibility for allowing Black to slip right under their noses years prior to when he had resurfaced at Hogwarts. The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, is currently under scrutiny for his incompetence in not only capturing Black but more pressingly, his inability to correspond effectively with Japan's own Minister for Magic, Mahou Joto. Indeed, it is speculated by political analysts that Fudge will lose his job in the wake of perceived negligence in Black's escape.
A possible lead (or prime suspect) in these affairs is Remus Lupin, a former Hogwarts professor who specialised in Defence Against the Dark Arts. He is not only known for his affiliation with Sirius during their time as students at Hogwarts, but also as being a werewolf. As history has demonstrated, werewolves are notoriously untrustworthy. So far, efforts to reach Lupin have been unfruitful.'
Harry screwed his face up. No wonder Lupin had not been in touch with them. He was most likely avoiding the sordid media. He imagined how much he must have been suffering in the wake of so much scrutiny. Harry felt sick. He let out a deep breath and decided to read on:
'Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has also not escaped criticism. It is believed by many (as furthered by long-time Ministry insider Lucius Malfoy) that Dumbledore himself allowed much to fall by the wayside. It is duly noted that the hiring of Lupin, as well as the escape of Black, both simultaneously occurred under his watch. As mentioned in past issues of The Daily Prophet, the life of several Hogwarts students, including The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, remain at risk. Under both Dumbledore and Fudge's watch, they have been—in a shocking course of actions—allowed to operate akin to experienced Aurors under the jurisdiction of the Order of the Phoenix. A council has been formed to review Dumbledore's actions and whether he is fit to continue his role as Headmaster at the present time. The possibility of criminal negligence charges may also be on the table.'
Harry felt faint as he stared at Sirius' photo once more, then lowered the article. He gaped expressionlessly at the wall. He knew that Sirius definitely could not come out of hiding. Not in the foreseeable future. Harry had hoped so much that he would be reunited with Sirius, the one man who came close to being family, a father. But Dumbledore, too? Dumbledore was supposed to be the one in control…Dumbledore who had sent them there…Dumbledore…the one man who his faith and trust was rested on.
The knob of Harry's bedroom door turned and Hermione and Ron appeared in the doorway, their faces ashen as Hermione clutched The Daily Prophet. 'Harry! The Prophet — it says —'
'I already know!' Harry snapped suddenly, surprising even himself.
'I'm sorry,' Hermione whispered, shuffling back into Ron, who placed his hands on her shoulders. 'I thought you might ...'
'I don't want to talk about it,' Harry responded flatly, scrunching the article and tossing it on the floor.
'Hey mate, let's calm down,' Ron started reasonably.
'I need to get some air.'
Harry weaved around them, sailed down the stairs and moved towards the front door. He pushed his feet into unlaced trainers and pushed his way outside. The icy evening air bit his cheeks as he bounded down the path, through the gate and out into the wide street. He took a lap down the street, the lamplight glancing off his spectacles as he passed under their pockets of yellow haze. He stumbled on a shoelace and fell forward onto his palms. He pushed himself up slowly and brushed the grit off his hands. He stared at his shoes. His vision blurred, and tears flecked his lenses.
What was the point of all of this? What was the point of fighting, or hoping for something better? He would never live a normal life.
'Harry?' he heard a female voice from behind.
He looked around blearily at Tomoyo, who stood several feet behind him, her hands clasped together.
He suddenly felt embarrassed. He took off his glasses and pressed the hem of his sleeve to his eyes to dry the stray tears. When he looked up at her, she looked concerned. He knew that she was patient, and would not force him to speak. But the words tumbled out easily like a burst valve.
'They think my godfather —'
She nodded gently. 'I heard. I'm so sorry.'
Harry spread his hands out desperately, shaking. 'But he's innocent! He has nothing to do with Voldemort!' He ran a hand through his hair. 'Why does this always happen? I was looking forward to … I thought I was finally done with the Dursleys. I thought at last, after three years, maybe this year finally ... but now this …' He clenched his jaw. 'Why can't I just finally have a real family? Why am I so unlucky?'
Tomoyo regarded him gently. 'You're not unlucky, Harry. You're the luckiest boy there is.'
'What makes me so lucky when only bad things happen?'
Tomoyo shook her head. 'Think of all the amazing things you've done.'
'But just when things are finally getting better, something bad always…' His voice broke as a lump formed in his throat. His eyes stung with hot tears.
'But even if bad things happen, good things happen too,' Tomoyo replied gently. 'Sometimes life is not perfect. Think of all you have survived — you're The-Boy-Who-Lived.'
'The-Boy-Who-Lived? Who cares!' He laughed bitterly and choked. More tears welled in his eyes. 'So what that I lived? Here I am without my parents and without anything.' He was silent for a moment, biting his quivering lip. 'Sometimes I wish Voldemort succeeded. Sometimes I wish he'd killed me too.' Like floodgates opening, the tears streamed down his cheeks. He bent his head low, shuddering as he cried quietly, all shame and embarrassment gone.
'Harry …'
Something in her voice, a gentle placating tone, compelled him to look up at her. She smiled softly.
'No matter what, you're not alone. Hermione and Ron are here.'
'No …' he replied tersely, sniffing, 'they have each other.'
Tomoyo's brows turned upwards as she bit her lip. 'Sakura ...' He didn't reply. She squinted her eyes, as though contemplating something difficult. She then looked at him with shocking resolve. Her mouth formed an 'o'.
'You have me.'
He felt like lightning pulsed through his veins with the racing of his heart. She stepped towards him and enveloped his hands in hers. 'You're not alone, Harry. I'll always be here for you.'
With tears falling, he cocooned her in his arms. He breathed in her scent. He felt her warmth, and the faint beating of her heart. Her body stiffened at the contact, but she gradually leaned into him, her face buried in his shirt. They remained like that for a time, immune to the freezing night air and the pressing darkness.
