Dislcaimer: Still not mine. Yeh, I know right? That totally sucks!
A/N: You know, if you review, I'll love you forever.
A/N2: I have to honestly say I can't completely claim the color conversation, only Kush's part of it. This was an honest-to-God conversation Cliona and I had at the Student Tables, and seeing a place to add it in only made it even more perfect.
Chapter Ten: Double Meanings
Robin reached out and gently touched the Headmaster's shoulder to gain his attention. "Clark, we should get her to the infirmary. The others need to go back to sleep."
Nodding, the Headmaster scooped up the weeping girl, frog and all, and cradled her in his arms, rising to his feet. He led the way out of the dorms, followed by Remus and Robin. Kraven caught up to them a moment later after giving his students some stern instructions about discretion. Upon reaching the hospital wing, Clark settled down onto one of the beds, Kushiel still clinging to him, although her quakes had stopped. "A little better now?" he asked quietly.
She shook her head and sniffled, barely keeping herself from resorting to her childhood habit of wiping her nose on her sleeve. Robin handed her a Kleenex and she mopped her face and nose with it, dropping it in the wastebasket by the bed. The tears continued to stream down her face, but her breathing was slowly calming.
"Kushiel, what happened?" Kraven Bloodthorne asked quietly, leaning against the windowsill.
"I don't know," she whispered, clutching the neon orange stuffed frog. "I…I fell asleep, and then I was dreaming."
"What were you dreaming, Kush?" he pressed patiently.
She stared up at him with haunted eyes, a lost little girl in place of the confident, poised young woman they always saw. She shook her head mutely.
"Kushiel, we have to know," Remus told her gently.
The girl shook her head again and tightened her grip so on the frog that Robin feared it's eyes would pop out.
Robin brushed a wisp of light brown hair out of her face and took Kraven and Remus by the elbows. "A moment," she instructed lowly, drawing them away to leave Clark and Kushiel alone at the bed.
The Headmaster pulled a fresh handkerchief from an inner pocket of his robes and handed it to her, letting her wipe her face. He waited until she loosened the stranglehold on the amphibian and began worrying the embroidered linen in her hands to hold out the portrait from her nightstand. Her emerald eyes widened, but she said nothing. "This is why we have to know, Kitten," he said. "This means he was there."
Reaching out, Kush took the sketch and ran her fingers lightly over it. The red hair that clung to her in damp, frizzy curls now, splayed gently around her on the pillow in the image, her eyelashes brushing against her cheek.
"Kitten…"
"Is there a Pensieve I could use?" she asked him, voice all nearly inaudible. "I don't think I could…I don't want to try and say it," she managed, hands trembling. "I'll save such bravery for a Parador," she added shakily, with the ghost of a smirk.
He stroked his hand up and down her arm, warming away some of the goosebumps. "Robin," he called. "Do you have a Pensieve in here?"
Nodding thoughtfully, the woman pulled her wand from her emergency bag and tapped it in a complicated pattern against a locked cabinet. The doors swung open after a moment's hesitation and she pulled out a heavy empty bowl, the silver carefully engraven with the runes of the spell that allowed the thoughts to be held and viewed. Robin set it down on the table by the bed and turned to regard the girl. "You know how to use one?"
The redhead nodded and looked down at her hands. "Can I borrow someone's wand, please?" she asked minutely. "I think mine's probably still under my pillow."
"Nika." The house-elf she'd called earlier appeared at the nurse's side. "Can you please fetch Kushiel's wand from under her pillow?"
The elf nodded and disappeared.
In the interim, Clark finally took a good look at the stuffed animal the seventh year was clutching. "So that's the absurdly orange frog Robin mentioned before?"
"I mentioned no such thing!" The mediwitch retorted indignantly.
"Oh, this was quite some time ago," he argued blithely. "When you frog-marched her out of the infirmary just before school started."
Kushiel smiled slightly, a little bit of the color coming back into her face. "This is Nicolas la Grenouille," she introduced, petting the frog's head absently. "I've had him for as long as I can remember."
"Before you begin, Kushiel," Kraven mentioned, nodding his head towards the Pensieve, "would you like me to owl your mother?"
"No, sir," she answered lowly. "I'll tell her myself in my own way."
"And in your own time?" Clark muttered dryly.
"Sir?"
"Why didn't you tell me about your other nightmares?"
Her brows drew together in a puzzled frown. "Sir, I've had nightmares all my life. I don't exactly make a habit of it to flaunt them before people asking for sympathy."
Clark was saved from having to come up with a response by Nika reappearing with Kushiel's wand. He rose to his feet and walked some few beds away with the others, leaving her with some space to withdraw her memories of the nightmare. His dark brown eyes remained on her, however, as she slowly pulled the spidery silver strands from her temple. "The three of us will need to go in, obviously. Robin, can you stay with her, keep her calm?" he asked lowly.
"Clark, we'll need her to go in with us," Kraven disagreed quietly, flicking his gaze over to the redhead who cradled the bowl. He watched her take deep breaths, her eyes closed against the wait.
"No," the Headmaster immediately refused.
"Her dreams aren't going to mean the same things to us as they did to her," the Divinations professor explained shortly. "We need to know why it was so frightening, not just what she saw."
"Then we can ask her when we get out of the memories."
"Not and have it make any degree of sense," he snapped. He ran a hand over his face, smoothing his neatly trimmed goatee. "Clark, this is my territory, and we need her immediate input."
"The purpose of the Pensieve was so that she didn't have to relive it."
"And we would have had to ask her questions anyway," Kraven argued hotly. "The painter has been inside the school, Clark! Do not let your personal feelings for the girl put her discomfort over the safety of every single person in this school!" He took a deep breath against the building fury and met the younger man's eyes firmly. The Headmaster's face was shocked, and there was a reply formulating, but Kraven didn't give it a chance to come out. "I'm not questioning what those feelings are, Clark, they may simply be the protective affection that masters have for their apprentices, but Kushiel is a strong girl. She's had a fright, but she'll come through it. In the meantime, however, we have to know, and the only way to know everything we need to know is to bring her with us."
Remus, who had been silent through the exchange, now spoke, his hazel eyes thoughtful. "I have to agree, Headmaster. Besides, if we cast a diagnostic spell before we go in, we'll be able to hopefully see where the connection is coming from and erase it. We can't do that if she's not in the dream with us."
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Clark ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. "Her choice," he said finally, almost daring them to refute him. "We ask her, she decides, and we abide by that choice."
Remus laid a hand warningly on Bloodthorne's shoulder when he would have protested. Remus watched people, he always had, and it generally gave him an insight that others lacked. Given the proper explanation, he had no doubt that the Colubrae would understand the necessity of it.
Shaking her head, Robin rolled her eyes and headed over to the supply cabinet for an Anti-Nausea potion, figuring it would be a good precaution for coming out of the Pensieve. Clark and Kraven had been rivals in school, and there were times when she felt they argued more for the sake of the still-existing rivalry than for any better reason. She handed Kushiel one of the vials and received a raised eyebrow in reply. "Just in case," she assured, and the girl nodded and downed the mixture in one swallow.
The three men came back over, their faces grave, and Kraven spoke before Clark could. "Kush, we have to ask you to come in with us."
She paled, but knowing her head of house, simply waited for the rest of the explanation.
"Why do prophetic dreams require such strenuous interviews before they're officially recorded?" he asked, automatically slipping into lecture mode.
"Because the events of the dream won't necessarily mean anything to anyone else, or at least not the same thing," she answered calmly, resignation creeping into the slump of her shoulders. "What is frightening or true is what resonates within the soul and mind, and events don't carry the same frequency from person to person. In order to determine, in this case, why the nightmare was so horrific, we have to be able to see my direct reactions to it, with what I see, hear, feel, and with what resonates within me."
Clark groaned and didn't even bother to present the argument he'd been mentally preparing.
Kushiel eyed the extra vials in Nurse Kayenta's hand. "Those might come in handy," she agreed ruefully. "There are parts…"
The professors took the vials and drank them down, setting the bottles on the nightstand. "Are you ready?" Clark asked quietly.
She nodded and set the heavy silver bowl in the cradle of her lap. "As I'll ever be," she answered dryly. "There were several dreams," she continued. "They kind of wove through a little bit, so how do we make sure we all end up in the same place?"
"We'll let you lead the entrance," Remus told her. "Just think about which one you want to enter first." He reached out and laid his pale hand against hers, hovering over ther silver essence. The other two mirrored his gesture a moment later, and Kushiel took a deep breath, sinking her hand down into the swirling mass. As it spilled over their fingers, the infirmary shifted around them, melting into garish colors that hurt the eye.
Clark looked around him with narrowed eyes, his stomach roiling with the chaos of colors. "Where are we?" he queried.
"We're where I started," she shrugged, her bare feet sliding across the smooth floor. There was no definition to the space. Walls and ceiling, a floor, yes, but the sense of limited expanse was absent. For all that they could see the boundaries, the stewing mass of color constantly shifting about around them kept them from feeling contained. Kushiel looked into the center of the room where her dream self appeared. "It's always a little disconcerting to see yourself," she noted absently. "You never appear quite the way you think you do."
Remus looked between the two Kushiels, one appearing solid and bright, looking about her curiously, the other slightly faded and silvered, eying her golem with a jaundiced eye. "What is the necklace you're wearing?" he asked, pointing around the dream-self's neck.
"My legacy locket," she answered. "It was given to me when I was born; I never used to wear anything but that."
"I don't think I've ever seen you wear it," Kraven observed, frowning slightly.
"The clasp on it broke when I was eleven. Da was going to take it to get it fixed, but then he vanished, and we think he took it with him."
"What exactly is a legacy locket, anyway?"
Kushiel glanced over at the Headmaster. "It's a locket given to each member of my family when we're born, and it's infused with a protection from all of our ancestors. Inscribed on the back is the first thing we hear coming into the world: On n'est jamais seule."
"One is never alone," Remus translated, smiling. "I like it."
"Yes, well, I'm alone now," she snorted. "It took me forever to get used to sleeping without feeling it around my neck." She felt a hand smoothing large circles on her back and looked over her shoulder to see the Headmaster standing close.
"You're not alone as long as you've got friends, Kush," he told her softly.
She merely shrugged and focused on her other self.
"The door is opening," a voice whispered through the space, sending chills down their spines.
"What?" The other Kushiel whipped her head around, trying to find the source of the voice.
"What will you see?" The voice asked, echoing across itself, slurring the words into haunting babble. "When the door opens, what will you see?"
"Who's there?" she demanded harshly, one hand rising automatically to clutch the circular locket around her neck.
On the far side of the space, a silver and grey door hazed into being, the black handles gleaming.
"What will you see?"
Hesitantly, the other Kushiel slowly walked forward, her right hand groping for a wand that wasn't there. She stood in front of the doors for a long moment, then reached out and ran a fingertip along the onyx handle. It creaked open, and a sharp wind blasted around her. She threw an arm up to shield her eyes, as did the others.
When the wind died down, they found themselves in a churned up field. Bodies lay scattered about, blood cooling in steaming pools. The sky retained its chaotic clash of colors. Kraven was inwardly amazed at the amount of detail the dream held; he could even smell the sharp, sickly sweet scent of pine from the forest stretching down the neighboring hills. The stench of blood seeped through his nose, leaving a tangy, coppery taste on his tongue. He looked around him, trying to determine the source of the blood and bodies, and nearly gagged.
All the bodies belonged to children. He watched the dream Kushiel frown in confusion, kneeling down next to a little girl whose blonde hair spilled out around her, staining rusty brown as the blood dried. "What is going on through your head there?" he asked, choking on the words. It made him feel slightly better to see Remus and Clark working their jaws against the nausea.
"Mostly confusion," she answered lowly. "I didn't really know what was going on."
They watched the dream Kushiel cock her head as if listening to something, and the visiting girl raised her eyebrows. "Interesting," she noted. "Apparently the Pensieve only shows what an observer would see; I thought it would be more holistic than that."
"What is it you're hearing?"
"It's hard to put into words," she admitted. "It wasn't words so much as thought. But, it was sickening, really."
"Kush," Kraven warned darkly. "Uncomfortable as it may be, don't avoid the question. This isn't one of your games of truth or truth." She looked at him with surprise and he smiled grimly. "I'm head of house, Kush, do you honestly think the portraits don't tell me what goes on?"
"That must have been the first game then," she decided. "We learned to do Confundus charms on the portraits after that."
"Kush…"
She sighed and turned away, pushing a red curl back behind her ear. "It was whispering to me about what an incredible sketch this would make. It's horrible, yes, but there's something strangely beautiful about it, too. There's a grace to the brutality that tempers it. If I couldn't smell the blood, I could almost imagine they were posing for something."
The dream Kushiel grimaced in revulsion and shot to her feet, almost stumbling over the body of a wide eyed and staring little boy.
"What was that?"
"The voice told me that beauty arises from the dregs of violence," she whispered. "It's so obvious, now, that it had to be the painter, but I didn't see it then."
"That's part of the nature of dreams," Kraven soothed, still looking around him, trying not gaze too long at the dead children.
The wind screamed around them again, tugging at robes and hair. The scene shattered into crystals that lashed at their skin. It swirled around them, rain slicing and stinging as thunder rumbled through their feet. The dream girl closed her eyes and leaned into the storm, a small smile lighting up her face. The same listening expression came over her face and she shuddered, sinking into herself.
"I've always loved storms," the visitor said quietly, wrapping her arms about her and holding herself tightly. "I know they're violent, I know things get damaged and people get hurt, but they're so incredible. They're a genuine force of nature."
Remembering a storm ten years before, Remus smiled slightly, understanding the kinship his wife felt with the normally impish young woman.
"And what was the painter telling you?"
"That I take glory in destruction," she whispered. She was getting progressively pale, drowned by the deep color of her hair.
"I wouldn't ever cause it!" the dream Kushiel yelled suddenly.
"But would you cease it?" the one beside the Headmaster murmured.
"What?"
"That was his reply, inside my head."
The wind brought with it a flurry of color, and they all turned to watch it approach. "There's more?" Kraven asked warily.
"Much more."
Robin was beginning to worry; they'd been within the Pensieve for more than an hour. She paced beside the bed, worrying the lobe of her ear. A sudden noise behind her caused her to flinch and she spun around to find the four memory-travelers in a heap on the floor.
Kushiel curled into a tight ball and hid her face against her knees, her hair falling in disarrayed curls around her.
The nurse took one look at her returned colleagues and went to fetch more Anti-Nausea potion, watching them gulp it down gratefully. "That bad?" she asked anxiously.
"Worse," Kraven grunted, watching Clark pull the silent girl against his chest comfortingly. "He is one sick bastard."
"What did he do?"
"He compared me to Persephone," came the muffled reply from the student. "He said I saw the same beauty she did in things the rest of the world despises. That I could not hate that which I in fact was."
"Did you find a connection?"
"Not one we could trace to a source," Remus answered wearily, pushing his mostly grey hair out of his care-worn face. "Until we can understand how he's making this connection, there's nothing we can do to remove it."
"You were gone so long," the steady woman whispered fearfully.
"It was much longer than any dream ever ought to be," Bloodthorne agreed ruefully. "Kush, how long were you dreaming before Carriegan came to fetch us?"
"How in the name of Nim would I be able to answer that?" she laughed humorlessly.
"I still don't understand why her, though," Robin stated, perching on the edge of a bed. "Why Kush? It has to be more than simply her research."
"It is," Clark answered lowly. "It's her entire perspective."
"What do you mean?"
"It seems as though Kush here might be the victim of a recruitment attempt," Kraven elaborated. "Persephone sees beauty in things that normal people see as disgusting or faded. Kush sees some of those same things, as well, beauty in the midst of a storm. Perhaps they think she'll prove sympathetic because of that, but her knowledge of the school and of us as the Dark Hunters could prove very useful to them if they were somehow able to court her over to their side."
"Court her," Robin echoed incredulously. "By scaring her half to death?"
"He doesn't realize it's frightening," Kushiel interjected, her voice thick with choking tears. She lifted her head, and the nurse could see that the lost, haunted look had returned. Wordlessly, she handed the girl Nicolas la Grenouille, watching her squeeze the crap out of it. "He only sees the beauty. He doesn't understand why something as beautiful as a hand falling in a graceful arc can be so horrifying when you look at everything around it." She angrily dashed a hand across her cheeks, trying to get rid of the tears.
"Kraven, Remus, I'd like to meet with you two later today, so we can talk about this. For now, I'd suggest you get some rest."
Kraven looked at Clark thoughtfully for a moment, then at Kushiel, before his gaze shifted back to the hard-eyed Headmaster. He nodded and left the infirmary, Remus following behind.
"Clark?"
"Go ahead, Robin, I'll stay with her," he answered the unspoken question.
She wasn't entirely sure that it was appropriate, but she simply nodded and left the room, closing the doors quietly behind her.
Clark scooped the young woman trying so hard not to cry into his arms and rose to his feet, moving her to the bed. "Just let it go, Kitten."
She shook her head, her entire body quaking in his grasp.
Gently forcing her to uncurl from her ball, he pulled her even closer against him, wrapping his robes about her to coax some warmth back into her clammy skin. "It's all right, Kitten," he murmured against her hair. "It's done, the nightmare's done."
"What if it comes back? What if he keeps coming back?"
"We won't let him."
"I'm not five, sir, it's not that easy anymore."
Without thinking, he kissed her temple softly, his lips lingering against the soft skin. "I didn't say it was," he said simply.
She shuddered violently and broke down again, her tears soaking through his thin shirt as she clung to him.
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"Sir?" Carriegan asked in confusion, looking up at her head of house. "Are we in trouble?"
"Simply go to the Headmaster's office, Carriegan, he will explain," Kraven Bloodthorne snapped wearily. He was bone tired; his dreams after leaving the infirmary had been riddled with echoes of Kushiel's nightmare, and he had woken up heavy-headed.
Watching the Divinations professor walk away, Carriegan frowned and turned towards Aurelia and Cliona. "Shall we then?"
"I guess so," Cliona murmured, rising to her feet. The trio left the Great Hall and walked quickly to the Headmaster's office, scrutinized by the stone sphinx. She and the others had been filled in by Carriegan and Sabina on the events of the night, quietly during the tumult of breakfast, and they couldn't think of anything else it might be pertaining to. The door opened and they headed in, finding themselves across the desk from a hard and weary Headmaster.
"Sit, please," he told them, gesturing to the chairs. He conjured a third one and watched them sit uneasily. "I'm guessing you know why you're here?"
"Is Kush okay?" Aurelia asked, uncommonly grave.
"And that would be one of the reasons you're here," he answered wryly. "Carriegan, I believe Professor Bloodthorne gave you all a talk on being discrete about all this?"
"Discrete is not telling people who don't need to know," she refuted glibly. "Need-to-know counterweights discrete, and we were careful to make sure no one overheard us."
"Yes, but did you think perhaps that Kushiel might not want all of the group to know? That perhaps she wanted to keep it as quiet as possible?"
"Sir?"
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Kushiel is fine," he responded to Aurelia's original question. "She's shaken, and we're going to keep her in the infirmary for a few days for observation, but you can go visit her if you'd like. Just please don't mention anything that went on."
"What if she needs to talk about it, sir?" Cliona asked quietly.
"Then she can mention it; I do not want to hear of any of you doing so."
Cliona nodded thoughtfully, smiling inwardly. If proof was needed that the Headmaster felt more than student-teacher towards her friend, this was certainly it. "Yes, sir," she said simply.
"Sir, what was so important about the sketch by her bed?" Carriegan inquired, but he simply shook his head.
"That's not important for you to know, Carriegan, and no questions about it. It doesn't concern the students."
Purple eyes narrowed, but she nodded. Carriegan was nothing if not curious, and being told not to ask any questions simply made the questions burn more deeply.
"Will the nightmares continue?" Cliona inquired.
"I don't know," he admitted heavily. "If you want to go see her, Nurse Kayenta says she's still awake."
Recognizing their dismissal, the three girls stood up and left the office, heading towards the infirmary to visit their friend. They were met at the door by Callum, who regarded them with solemn eyes.
"This could be an interesting couple of days," he noted, kissing Cliona in greeting. "She's determined not to go to sleep."
"What?"
"They can't determine the exact cause of the nightmares," he told them quietly. "So she's decided that she's simply not going to go to sleep until they do."
"That can't be healthy."
Callum smiled slightly and stepped aside to let them in, his hand automatically twining through Cliona's.
The redhead looked up at the sound of their footsteps and smiled, waving at them cheerily. "Good morning," she called across the room. "Come to join the sick and the dead?"
"No, just visiting the inexcusably lazy," Carriegan retorted cheekily, perching on the edge of the bed. "You're obviously feeling better."
"Mmm, much," Kushiel answered, carefully smudging a line of her sketch. "Hospital food, nummy."
Callum groaned. "We are not giving you hospital food, you got the same thing as everyone else this morning."
"Yes, but it's not really a stay in the hospital wing if you're not complaining about hospital food. It doesn't matter whether you've actually had it or not," she explained matter-of-factly, and he rolled his eyes.
"You're too much."
"And you're only just now realizing this?"
"So you're planning on staying awake for how long?" Cliona asked, settling herself in Callum's lap on the next bed over.
"For as long as it takes," she answered seriously. "I'm not allowed to tell you guys most of it, but it was bad," she continued, her emerald eyes darkening in memory. "I don't want to take a chance on having any repeats of it."
"We'll help," Aurelia announced cheerfully. "We can play truth or truth, and talk about boys, and have cookies, and just have a big old slumber party for as long as it takes!"
With the laughter that followed, the tension eased, and Nurse Kayenta smiled from her desk. Laughter was truly a most wondrous medicine.
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Clark eyed the redhead from where he stood, leaning against the edge of Robin's desk. Alongside him were Remus, Robin, Ginny, and the other Dark Hunters. They'd been going over the dream for days, unable to make any headway into the events, other than a message of some kind of recruitment. Somehow, with the aid of her friends, the redhead had stayed awake for two straight days, and it was starting to show.
Cliona lounged on the bed one over from her friend, Callum's arm around her waist and holding her close. Her eyes were closed, almost on the verge of falling asleep. Kush's voice pulled her out of the dreamy reverie.
"So, if Blue, Green, and Red all got in a war, would Yellow still be a rat bastard?"
The Enigmus girl opened her eyes and turned her head to regard the redhead bemusedly. She blinked owlishly. "Um….I'd say yes?" She quirked a brow in confusion.
Kushiel flipped a page in her sketch pad and began a new drawing. "So if Yellow is a rat bastard, does Green marry Black or Purple? And is it Purple or Black that's out for the money?"
"Green would have to marry Purple," she answered matter-of-factly. "They're the school colors." She thought for a moment, then nodded decisively. "Obviously, Black is the one who's out for the money. Black's too goth to be otherwise."
"But Black was so sweet to Orange, before Orange ran off with Red and broke Black's heart," she argued. "And, Orange was penniless." She leaned over the space between the two beds and lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. "Personally, I think Orange and Red were a mistake, they clash horribly."
Cliona nodded seriously. "Orange and Red are a no, no." She tugged thoughtfully at a lock of wavy brown hair. "Black may have been sweet to Orange, but Orange was the love of Black's life. Now with a broken heart, Black is just in search of stability, also known as money."
Callum leaned down to murmur in Cliona's ear. "What the hell?"
"True," Kushiel conceded, nibbling her lower lip thoughtfully. "Maybe we could set Black up with Silver. Silver's fairly well off, and not looking for too much romantically. Love could bloom, and then Green would have Black's cleverness without being trapped in a loveless, money seeking marriage, because Green and Silver are allies, and Black and Purple are still good friends."
"That sounds like a good plan," Cliona agreed. "Black and Silver would go very well together."
"What about Gold and White, though?" Kushiel brought up. "They're trouble makers, and Yellow is just a pale shadow to the malevolence of Gold. What if they team up with Red? Green's good, and Blue's fairly decent as far things go, but Red's a downright cad. White might be happy with Blue, White's pretty laid back, but Gold needs to be kept a careful eye on."
"Oh, Blue and White have to go together!" she cried. "Enigmus colors and all that." She bit her lip uncertainly. "I'm not too sure what to do about the others, though."
"Well," the Colubrae drawled thoughtfully, scraping her pencil against the rough paper. "Maybe Blue and Green could ally themselves against Red, and trick Gold into helping them bring down the Evil Regime. Then, when they've got everything settled, they could kick Gold to the curb for all the Evil Misdeeds. Then again, Purple is so soft-hearted; Purple might not let them do that."
Cliona blinked, the train of thought escaping her. "…mrmph…" she snorted, fighting against the fit of giggles threatening to take her over.
Kushiel glanced at her friend from the corner of her eye, her mouth twitching in a smirk. "…mrmph…" She covered her hands to keep the snickers at bay. "Mrmph!
Cliona started laughing so hard she would have fallen had it not been for Callum's arm around her waist. Her head sank down into her arms onto the mattress, her shoulders shaking.
"We could have Sepia play the wedding marches," Kush giggled. "And…mrmph!...Beige and Lime could draw up the alliance contracts."
"Think Pink!" Cliona cried, completely losing it.
"Oh, no!" Kushiel protested without thinking about it. "Keep Pink away from Red and Purple! None of them have forgotten or forgiven that episode in Vegas, and that could throw everything back into chaos!"
"But, but they worked so well together," she gasped, trying to catch her breath. "All three of them!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Callum exploded, staring at the both of them.
"What is something we said?" Kushiel asked, all trace of the laughter gone from her innocently puzzled voice.
"Was it the maniacal laughter?"
"It must have been the intricacies of intercolor politics," the redhead decided. "It can be very confusing to the casual observer."
"Well, someone needs a trip to the Crayola Factory," Cliona teased, kissing Callum's chin.
"Yes, and he could make friends with Professor Yellow Crayon, because Professor Red Crayon is spoken for."
"You should both be in those little white straight-jackets," he pronounced.
"Oh, no, White doesn't like jackets," Kushiel told him solemnly. "White would probably appreciate the thought of a gift, but cards and gift certificates tend to be much preferred."
Cliona nodded. "Yes. White's greedy like that."
"Well…" the other girl wobbled her hand indecisively. "Not so much greedy as refined. White was very richly brought up, and poverty's a somewhat foreign concept. White is used to having a certain elegance and luxury in everything. Now, Blue-Green?" she continued. "There's a greedy color, can't decide which side of the family to acknowledge. That one's after everything it can get."
Callum gave up and sank down into the mattresses, shaking his head. "You two are nucking futs," he muttered.
Kraven turned to Clark, one eyebrow raised. "Can we just drug her?" he demanded dryly. "I think I just lost several IQ points."
Ginny Lupin leaned against her husband, her face red with smothered laughter. "Oh, that was wondrous," she gasped. "Oh, that was fantastic."
"Rather reminds me of you and Hermione," Remus agreed, chuckling. "Something that no one else in the world understands."
"I understood it," Ginny protested indignantly. "What isn't to understand?"
"All of it?" Polonius suggested with a smile.
"Wait till your daughter has her first sleepover," she advised. "You learn to translate."
"Women don't have to translate, they simply know."
"Of course we do," the redhead answered glibly. "We were little girls once."
"Once? Ow!" Tyler Ward winced and rubbed at the sore spot on his ribs compliments of Nurse Kayenta. "What was that for?"
"Principle," she told him wryly.
Sachiko Kobiyashi smiled. "I agree, principle is important."
They all turned quickly at the sudden loud squawk, only to see Cliona throwing herself at Kushiel in a tickling glomp. The two girls laughed as they tried to fend each other off, and Callum lounged on the bed watching them bemusedly. Clark shook his head, chuckling under his breath. It looked like Kushiel was going to be just fine. If only they could figure out how to sever the connection into her mind.
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"Come on," he urged her, leading her forward.
Cliona stumbled along after Callum, cold seeping through her heavy winter cloak, hoodie, and turtleneck, her sight useless from the blindfold tied tightly about her. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
"Not with this blindfold on, I won't," she grumbled, starting to lose some of the feeling in her hands from the wind.
They finally stopped, and she could feel his breath warm against her ear. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course I trust you, but-ah!" She flailed about as she felt herself rise of the floor in a levitation spell, until Callum's voice calmed her into stillness.
"I've got you, Cli, just trust me. I just want it to be a surprise."
She sniffed the air as he pulled her through the air, but the freezing wind had stuffed her nose up temporarily, and until she got warm again, she wouldn't be able to smell a thing. After several moments, he set her down, but left her standing there as he rummaged through something. Finally, she felt his hands at the knot on the back of the blindfold.
"Here we are," he murmured, pulling it loose. He watched her blink rapidly against the sudden light and look around.
She almost laughed when she saw it; they were in the barn. More specifically, they were immediately in front of they haystack in which they'd taken unsuccessful refuge from Aidan those months ago. He had laid out several blankets, including the traditional red and white checkered blanket upon which a picnic basket sat open. From it, he had pulled a plate of still steaming grilled cheese sandwiches and a large canteen of soup, pouring it into bowls. Silverware gleamed, and large mugs of mulled cider waited to warm them up. She turned towards him to find him watching her anxiously. "It's wonderful," she told him, her face lighting up in a smile.
Callum breathed a sigh of relief and sank down onto the blanket, pulling her with him. "Professor Ward said as long as we didn't disturb the animals as much as last time, he didn't mind."
"I think that can somehow be arranged."
They talked quietly as they ate, the comfortable, casual kind of talk that only two people who knew each other very well could have. They spoke about Arithmancy and music, two things they both enjoyed, then joked and laughed about some of the other students. Neither of them mentioned Kushiel's strange dream of the week before.
When they had finished, Callum packed everything carefully away in the basket and took Cliona in his arms, simply holding her for a moment. She squirmed in his grasp until she could turn around, kissing him thoroughly. She gave a squealing laugh as he pushed her back against the blanket-covered hay, holding himself over her.
Grey and blue eyes met warm brown eyes as he gently lowered his weight on top of her, kissing his way along her jaw until he could nibble on her ear. She responded enthusiastically, as she usually did, her hands threading through his auburn curls to pull him even closer. It was an enjoyable weight against her hips, and she could feel the heat rising in her chest. Somehow, one of his hands found its way beneath her shirt, not pushing, not testing, simply rubbing strongly against the smooth skin of her stomach. She arched up into him, giving his hand leave to travel upwards, fingertips flirting along her skin to tease at the back strap of her bra.
It was a thoroughly flushed, disheveled, and goofily grinning pair that emerged from the barn when darkness fell.
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Carriegan observed her dorm mate from the corner of her eye as they waited for Professor Greywolf to arrive to begin the Potions lesson. The old, bearded professor was usually about five minutes late, something they'd been able to plan around since their first year. Kushiel was tired; anyone who knew her well could see that. The corner of her mouth twisted in its habitual self-deprecating smirk, but her eyes weren't in it. The dancing emerald eyes were haunted and dark, unnoticeable to anyone not looking for it.
"When was the last time you slept?" she whispered, tenting her textbook up around them to give them some privacy.
"What are you talking about?" Kushiel replied, resting her chin on her hand.
"You don't fool me one bit, Kush," Carriegan retorted, her purple eyes flashing. "I know you, remember? I fall asleep, you're sitting on your bed reading or working on homework. I wake up in the morning, you're working on a necklace or a sketch. You haven't been sleeping, and it's starting to show."
"Thanks ever so, Carr."
"No jokes, Kush, why aren't you sleeping?"
"I do sleep sometimes," she answered defensively. "And then I have another nightmare and it keeps me from sleeping for a few days."
"Kush!"
"Ssh!" She hissed, seeing people's eyes start to turn towards them. "Keep your damn voice down."
"Have you told the professors!"
"No, nor do I plan to. And neither will you," she continued harshly. "It's not going to fix anything, they're still baffled by the first one."
"Have you tried Dreamless Sleep?"
"Yes, and it failed abysmally. They're not normal dreams, Carr, so normal means don't affect them. They'll go away eventually."
"And how long will that take?"
"As long as it takes," Kushiel told her firmly, and Professor Greywolf's tardy entrance into the Potions classroom successfully ended the conversation for the moment.
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Elowen looked up sharply at the bizarre sound that emerged from two spaces down the table. "What in the Sam Hill was that?" she demanded, trying to determine the source of the noise.
"Cliona got a letter from her brother," Raven answered helpfully. "Apparently something amused her about it."
The Enigmus brunette launched herself further down the table until she was in the center of the group. "I got a letter from Cúan," she told them, her voice tripping over near-hysterical giggles. "Listen to this!"
Hey, Little Sister,
So, Mam asked me to write you and let you know what the plans are for Christmas. Aidan's parents have promised that they will keep him away from you over holidays, so that you can have a pleasurable time home. However, that may yet prove to be an unnecessary precaution. Aidan has been strangely moody of late. He won't tell me what he's thinking about, but my bets are on a certain blue-eyed blonde.
At any rate, Mam wishes to know if you're planning on staying the entirety of the holidays, or if you're going to once again abandon us to cavort with your friends at school as soon as you can respectably escape. She didn't say it in so many words, of course, but the gist was there. I know you lot usually celebrate Kush's birthday at New Years, but how long before that are you going to leave us all alone?
And, speaking of Christmas, do you have any idea what a certain friend on yours might like for a gift? I've been thinking and thinking, and I've come up with a possible solution, but I would appreciate your input on it nonetheless. And the reason I'm not telling you what my thoughts are is because I fully expect you to share this little letter with all of your little friends, and that would ruin the surprise at Yuletide.
I'll let you ruminate on that, Bunny, and please get back to me. Oh, and tell your friend she could always write me. She doesn't have to gloat over each of my letters without ever responding, or I might just lose the inspiration to write.
Write back,
Cúan
P.S.-I am sure you will find no end of sadistic amusement to this, but Aidan has broken his self-imposed silence. He has, very reluctantly, I might add, asked me to inquire after the health of a certain blue-eyed blonde. Too bad I couldn't actually make the bet; I could use the extra pocket money.
Aurelia snickered into her bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. "Oh, how sweet," she giggled. "He asked after me."
"Christmas might not be so bad after all, eh, Cli?" Gwen chuckled, nibbling at her toast.
"It might not be so bad at all," she agreed beatifically.
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The scratching of quills on parchment was a rather sleepy sound under the best of circumstances, and it was quickly lulling well over half the class into a drowsy doze. Professor Tyler Ward glanced up from grading the essays his seventh year Arithmancy class had turned in at the beginning of the hour, just checking around to see who had succumbed to the call of centralized heating.
Elowen, he expected; it was all over her head anyway, and he couldn't for the life of him understand why she had signed up for another year. Her light brown hair puddled around her on the desk, and she twitched occasionally as the edge of her quill dragged softly against her ear with the gentle motions of her breathing.
Gwen and Raven sat at stiff attention as they worked on the problems he'd assigned, smudges of ink across their cheeks from their frustrations. Behind them, Sabina lounged in her chair, cool and collected as always, obviously debating about whether or not to expend the effort. Cliona had her legs crossed up on the desk, her parchment spread out over her textbook on her knees, frowning down at the paper. She was quite good at the subject, and he knew she was trying to figure out a way to pursue the field on a postgraduate basis.
His gaze traveled to the next desk over, expecting to see Kushiel sketching idly on the side of her paper as she worked through the problem in her head before setting it down on the parchment. Instead, she slumped over her desk, forehead resting on her arm as she dozed fitfully. Tyler frowned thoughtfully, setting down his quill to inspect her closer. All the professors had been told to keep a close eye on her, and they had seen the signs of her growing fatigue.
Sleeping in class, however, was a definite first for her. In seven years of teaching her, he had never once heard of her falling asleep in a class. He wrote a swift note on a scrap sheet of parchment and tucked it into his pocket to remember later. Standing up from his desk, he walked around the slightly off-balance piece of furniture and came to rest in front of Kushiel's desk. Part of him hated to wake her up, he reflected ruefully, running a hand through his chin-length red hair. However, he couldn't let the precedent to be set. Sighing, he reached out and lightly shook her shoulder.
She came awake instantly, her right wand clutching her wand and her green eyes dark with fear. He kept his hand on her shoulder to let her ground herself, and she blinked up at him confusedly. "Sir?"
"I know you're tired, Kush, but you need to stay awake while you're in here," he told her gently. "If you'd like, I can write you a note to the infirmary for the rest of the day so you can sleep-"
"Thank you, sir, but I'll be all right," she answered quickly, brushing a lock of hair off her cheek. "I'm sorry."
"It's all right," he soothed, heading back to his desk. But he watched her for the rest of the period, noting how she propped her chin on her fist and gazed down dully at the problem as she worked it. He pulled the note out of his pocket and scribbled another couple of points, giving himself the stern reminder to bring it up with the Headmaster.
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"Elena, stick your chest out."
"It is out."
Carriegan glanced down at the measuring tape in her hands, her purple eyes widening slightly. "Oh," was all she said, jotting down the measurement. She slid down from the table she was kneeling on and checked down the list of numbers. "Okay, that was the last one," she told the infirmary aide, patting her shoulder. "These are going to be great."
Eying the large pile of fabrics, from deep black to vibrant blue to soft brown to stark white, Cliona nodded bemusedly. "We'll certainly be noticeable," she agreed dryly. She reached out and held up a long peacock feather, simply one in a large stack.
"Well, for obvious reasons, the Halloween Ball only comes around once a year," Raven laughed, running her hand over a bolt of plush black velvet. "Thus it stands to reason that we should go all out for it."
"I'm for that," Kush chuckled, threading tiny blue seed beads onto a wire. She would help with the assembly if necessary, but with enough people knowing how to sew either magically or mundanely, her duty was the jewelry. Her supply boxes were spread all around her, each compartment holding a certain type and color of bead. Aurelia's mother, a muggle, ran a small specialty bead store up in Boston, and she gladly gave her daughter's friend a large discount of her materials. "We're keeping this to vow of secrecy, yeh?" She asked, just to check.
"Well, it's not a Wizard's Oath, or anything, but we'll hold to the same rules as truth or truth," Sabina answered, wrinkling her nose at a vivid orange bolt.
"And anyone who breaks it is gonna wish they had chiggers and ticks where the sun don't shine," Elowen announced darkly. "It'll make what I do to 'em seem sugar and sweet in comparison."
Aurelia giggled brightly, her head resting in Gwen's lap as the other girl looked over the sketches Kush had done for them. "I hope Aidan comes."
"I hope he doesn't," came a low grumble.
"Oh, but Cli, he's so much fun!" the blonde girl protested cheerfully. "And if he comes, I will have a date!"
"Yeah, well, my date's in the band," Carriegan grumbled, tacking up each person's measurements onto the wall.
Perhaps delighted with the prospect of finally having the open area of the cottage being used for its purpose, Mistress Craefter had given the girls free rein of the workshop, allowing them to spread out the fabrics and materials as needed. She stood in the doorway a moment watching them, her silver-grey hair swept up in a chignon that would have been elegant had wisps of it not been frizzing free around her face. She smiled and left them to their work, heading out onto the veranda with a frosty smoothie.
"How bout you, Raven? You got a beau?" Elowen inquired slyly, watching the carrot-top blush fiercely.
"Well, if Cli didn't mind, I was thinking about asking Connor if he'd like to dance with me between sets," she admitted, regarding her fellow Enigmus through her bangs.
"It's fine with me," Cliona shrugged, blinking as Carriegan draped the trailing end of a swath of soft brown suede over her head to get it off the floor. "It's not like you didn't date him before."
"It's not like I'm going to start dating him again," Raven laughed. "I just don't want to go stag to the dance."
"Yeh, we'll leave that to me," Kushiel quipped, and the room was filled with laughter.
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Clark's office was crowded, to the point where Tyler even perched on top of Kushiel's smaller desk to open up some room. All of the Dark Hunters, Robin, and Remus were there, with the same topic on their mind as had been for two weeks. Tyler pulled the worn and creased piece of parchment from his robes pocket, where he had been forgetting it for several days.
Polonius leaned against the wall beneath the silent Lysander. "She fell asleep in her extra lesson today," he reported. "Right in the middle of an exercise, fell asleep there with fur sprouting along the back of her hands."
"She's getting into the transformation?"
"Focus, Clark."
Clark grinned sheepishly and took a sip from his strong black coffee. "Sorry." Sighing, he sank back into his chair. "Do we honestly still have nothing?"
"I think we have more than we know we have," Kraven answered grimly. "I did a routine check of the dorms during my planning period today and the girl has an entire basket of dried roses on her nightstand."
The Headmaster spluttered on his coffee, narrowly avoiding spewing it over his paperwork. "What?"
The Head of Colubrae house nodded, his dark eyes harsh. "Carriegan says she hasn't slept since the first nightmare."
"First nightmare," Clark repeated dully.
Polonius closed his eyes wearily. "Had one today," he said. "I let her sleep, she seemed like she needed it. She woke up with the most bloodcurdling shriek I'd ever hoped not to hear. I told her to go to Robin."
"I think we can safely say she didn't," Robin replied dryly, seated on the arm of the Headmaster's chair.
"Why isn't she telling us any of this?" Sachiko queried, idly stroking the head of the three foot tall fruit bat clutching the top of her shoe.
"She doesn't want to worry us," Tyler answered.
Remus frowned, his mind ignoring the conversation to focus on the salient facts. "A whole basket of dried roses?" he repeated thoughtfully.
"Yes."
"Meaning the painter has been returning."
Rubbing his hands against his eyes, Clark groaned. "Nothing is simple, is it?"
"What if we kept her in the infirmary?" Robin suggested softly. "If we take shifts to watch her, the painter can't come back to reaffirm the connection, and he'll have to give up."
"And how long will that take?" Kraven growled. "Do you propose to keep her in there for the rest of the school year?"
"Don't snipe at me, Kraven, unless you've got something better," she retorted calmly.
"We need to find out how these other dreams are different, if they're different," Sachiko murmured. "Find out what else he's been showing her."
"She's spending the evening here, going through some more of the reports," Clark sighed. "I'll talk to her about it then."
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"I didn't see you at dinner."
Kushiel glanced up at the Headmaster's voice, smiling wearily at him from where she was going over more information on Persephone's minions. "Hello, sir."
"I didn't see you at dinner," he repeated, coming to stand closely behind her, his hand on her shoulder.
"I wasn't all that hungry," she shrugged, adjusting her reading glasses on her nose.
"That's been happening pretty frequently, I hear."
"I just haven't been hungry, that's all," she answered dismissively, her hand trembling slightly as she wrote another line on the newest note sheet.
"Kitten, why didn't you tell us about the other dreams?" he asked gravely, and she looked up at him fully, reluctantly meeting his eyes.
"You were all so worried," she said quietly. "I figured you'd all freak out if I told you that I was still having them."
He frowned deeply and was about to say something when Fineus charged through the door. "Headmaster! Young Howell's got himself chased into a corner by Jolly, and Bast and Genie are eggin' him on!"
"We're not finished with the discussion, Kush," Clark warned her, heading quickly back out of the office.
She sighed and sank her head down on her arms. Of course they weren't. That would be far too easy.
Once he had the only-mild fiasco sorted out, and he wasn't entirely sure the first year hadn't deserved it, Clark made his way back into office to resume the conversation, only to find the redhead dozing off over her notes. With a sigh, he pulled off his robes and covered her with them, retreating back behind his desk to wait.
Some time later, and he couldn't have guessed how much later, he was pulled from his requisition forms for school supplies by a very odd sound. Bast, who had been curled up in his lap, perked her ears up, her golden eyes opening and looking around for the source of the sound. She hopped down from his leg and slunk over to Kushiel, nudging her leg through her plain muggle jeans. The sound repeated itself, and Clark realized that it was a whimper.
"Haddi," he said quietly, and the house elf appeared at his elbow. "I want you to wait right here, in case I need to send you for Nurse Kayenta."
The elf's huge eyes traveled to the redhead, wringing his hands anxiously. "Yes, sirs," he squeaked.
Clark rubbed a slow, smooth circle along the girl's back, hoping to bring her out of the nightmare gently. "Wake up, Kitten," he murmured lowly. "You need to wake up."
She groaned and shied away from his touch, teetering dangerously on the edge of the chair.
Bast meowed inquiringly, and Clark glanced down at the sleek black feline. "Go ahead," he agreed resignedly. "I'm sure she'll forgive you." The cat twitched her tail and reared back onto her hind legs, tenderly nuzzling the girl's arm before calmly sinking her teeth into the meat of her forearm.
Kushiel cried out in pain and fell off the chair, smacking her head on the edge of the desk on her way down and narrowly avoiding squashing the cat, who raced away from the danger. She opened her eyes in time to see Clark an inch or two away from her face, his arms around her to keep her from hitting the floor. He sank down gracefully onto the floor, pulling her gently into his lap.
"Let me see," he instructed softly, and in a daze, she turned her head to allow him better sight of her face. Strong fingers stroked her jaw carefully, testing for any damage. Finding none, he allowed himself the unthinking privilege of running his hand back into her slightly disheveled braid, holding her close against him. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she whispered brokenly, clutching her elbows against the obvious tremor under her skin.
"Kitten…"
"I'm just so tired," she admitted, sinking into his warmth. She closed her eyes, feeling the tears start to stream down her face in spite of herself. She felt him arms close about her and wanted to simply weep, but fought the urge with the little energy she had.
Clark glanced up at Bast's insistent yowling. "What is it?" His eyes widened as the cat purposefully knocked off a dried rose. He stretched out a hand and caught it. "Kush, what color is the rose I gave you?"
"Yellow," she sniffled.
The rose in his hand had once been a deep, vibrant red. He crushed it furiously. "How?" he demanded hoarsely. "How could he have done it? I was right here!"
Kushiel opened her mouth to respond, but then shut it again, cocking her head curiously to one side. "Haddi?" she asked softly. "What's wrong?"
Clark turned to regard the elf. Haddi shifted his weight anxiously from foot to foot, almost absently ramming his head into the side of the Headmaster's desk. "Haddi?"
Emerald eyes shifted between the elf and the rose in Clark's hand several times before the connection was made. "You!" she cried, and with a terrified squeal, Haddi popped out of the room.
"Kush, what is it?" struggling to keep her from rising to her feet.
She groaned against the sudden wave of dizziness and sank back into his embrace, closing her eyes. "It's Haddi," she muttered. "He's how the painter has been getting in."
"That's not possible," Clark refuted, shaking his head. "He's sworn to the school."
"Which holds truer, old oaths sworn in blood or new oaths made at the behest of the old ones?"
"Say what?"
"Haddi's family is still alive!" she yelled, thumping her fist furiously against her thigh. "Maybe it's the painter, maybe it's Persephone, but Haddi's Master or Mistress is still alive and giving him orders. The rose got here because that's part of a house elf's magic, to make things appear where they need to be, and that's how the painter could get past the wards into the school, because Haddi brought him in!"
She went to punch her leg again but he grabbed hold of her fist, wrapping his fingers around it. "Calm down," he ordered sternly. "You hit your head badly and you're exhausted as hell. We'll find Haddi. Lin!"
Another house elf appeared in the office, this one in the regulation embroidered tea towel. "Sirs called Lin?"
"Find Haddi. I want him brought to me immediately. Under no circumstances is he to be allowed alone in this school any longer."
"Yes, sirs!" Lin squealed, disappearing instantly.
"Accio ankh," Clark continued without missing a beat. A small black ankh on a chain flew from his desk into his hand and he squeezed it tightly, feeling it warm unbearably in his hand.
"What does that do?" A small voice asked from within the circle of his arms.
"It will bring the other Dark Hunters here," he told her. His lips brushed lingeringly against her temple, feeling her continue to shiver. He wrapped his robe more tightly about her, hearing the first pounding footsteps of his colleagues.
Kushiel remained safe within the Headmaster's arms as he explained what was going on to his fellow Dark Hunters. In a way, they were almost relieved; at least here was the answer to the two week long puzzle. They left the office only minutes after they'd come in, to check with the house elves as the search progressed. Clark gave further instructions to Bast, Genie, and Jolly Roger, telling Lysander to keep his eyes open as well. The messages would be passed along through the professors to the ghosts and Fineus, informing everyone who needed to know. When all was in full motion, he looked down at the young woman nestled against his chest.
She was fast asleep.
He smiled and stroked her hair back away from her face, her breath coming slow and easy, no tension knotting the lines of her brow. Her hand curled around his shirt like a child's, and he carefully rose to his feet while holding her. If he ever got married, the stray thought crossed his mind, he would be more than practiced in carrying his bride over the threshold. Nudging open the door to his office, he walked out towards the infirmary, fully intending on seeing her settled in there for a full night's sleep, one without any dreams, gods willing.