Is it still clean-up if it creates a wall of italics?
Edits- clean up, italics were there were previously none, language differentiation,
"Huuuuhhh," Ryou sighed softly, settling his chin deep into his hands. "Huhhh."
/Hikari, that's the tenth time you've sighed in as many minutes/
"Huuuuuh!" Ryou sighed, this time pointedly. He could feel Bakura's eye roll.
Why do you keep making that ungodly racket?/ Bakura said grouchily.
Ryou closed his eyes. /In case you've forgotten, I've got detention tonight thanks to you/ He kept his lips from moving as sat in the back of the classroom, barely controlling himself. /I really hope detention doesn't take too long/ he mused. /I have to practice Professor McGonagall's Vanishing Spell for tomorrow, and all of these charms.../
He let the thought trail off. He was sitting in Charms class, a double period today, and the tiny teacher had spent the double period, at least thus far, reviewing charms from previous years. And even though they acted as an excellent reminder of just how much he didn't know and how hard he was going to have to work to catch up, it was still nice. He had read enough of Hermione's books to have a rudimentary knowledge of how exactly charms worked, but seeing live demonstrations of many of them was unbelievably helpful.
Detention still weighed heavily on his mind, but the amount of homework was steadily growing worse. They had spent an entire double period in Transfiguration working on vanishing spells, which Ryou was only fair at, before getting a massive load of homework from Professor Flitwick. He hoped Umbridge's punishment wouldn't last too long. She had every right to be angry, Ryou knew, so he supposed it wouldn't be right to be too upset with her. It just would have been easier to not have to deal with.
/How long is this going to take?/ Bakura grumbled. /This whole... detention thing?/
/Why, have a hot date?/
/I might. Watch your mouth or you may just bite your tongue/
/That made absolutely no sense/
/Just think about it. It'll come to you/
/You're just angry that I didn't bring Uraeus again/ Ryou hummed, throwing his books neatly into his bag after class was dismissed.
/Very true. What good can he do getting fat off of treats and never leaving your trunk?/
/He's happy/
/He's becoming lazy. Don't indulge him/ Bakura scolded. /You should go get him. Fresh air might knock some sense into him/
/I don't have time. I have to go all the way outside for-/
"Ryou, wait up," Pansy called.
Ryou paused, turning back against the throng of rushing students that crowded the hall. Not far back, standing under the massive arches that crisscrossed the hall, were the other Slytherins. Pansy was smiling and waving. Beside her stood Malfoy, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and several others, nearly half of the sixth year class. They were crowded by the wall to avoid the surge of students, and, smiling, Ryou threaded his way over to them.
/You going to finish that thought?/ Bakura muttered snidely. His words went unnoticed as Malfoy spoke.
"We were going to walk up to Care of Magical Creatures together. Why don't you join us?"
"I'd love too," Ryou chirped cheerily, thriving on the invitation that sent jitters of joy through him. Acceptance felt... nice. "So, what is it like?"
"Hell," Blaise muttered. "I had burns from those bloody blast-ended whatsits for months."
"Burns?"
"The class is dangerous. If it kills, maims, or eats people, that bloody half-giant loves it," a Slytherin spat. "I hope Grubbly-Plank stays a while. Probably get off easy for once."
"If we don't hurry, we'll be late," another grumbled.
"Big deal," Pansy retorted. She smiled at Ryou, and from behind her he caught a glimpse of a small glare from Malfoy. But in a flash it was gone, and Malfoy was walking.
"Let's just get moving," Malfoy said.
/Does that cousin of yours seem... off?/
/Eh? What do you mean?/ Ryou asked.
Ryou felt his shoulders shrug slightly. /It's probably nothing/ Bakura said.
Ryou chatted aimlessly with the others as they made their way to Care of Magical Creatures. The sky above their heads was leaden and roiling ominously with the prospects of rain, and a few errant drops spattered his face every now and again. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as Malfoy cracked a particularly amusing joke about Gryffindors that wasn't too different from a blonde joke.
It couldn't have possibly been completely true, but Ryou couldn't stifle the small giggle that burst from his lips.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were already at the location of the class, and it wasn't hard to see the leery looks that they shot him even from this distance. Ryou glanced back at Malfoy and saw that his cousin had a similar sneer on his face; however, the Slytherins didn't finish their chortling until they settled at the trestle table, despite the dirty looks.
When class started, Ryou wasn't laughing anymore. Slytherins kept whispering things that were escalating quickly, and Malfoy did a cruel, buck-toothed impression that looked somewhat like a rabid squirrel when Hermione answered a question. Eventually, Ryou didn't even understand half of the insults they threw at her and the other Gryffindors, but he could tell none of them were good by the way the Gryffindors glared.
What did Draco mean by the original teacher of this class getting into some sort of trouble too big for him to handle? And just what was a mudblood? Purebloods, Ryou recalled, were people with both wizard parents. Did that mean that a mudblood didn't have wizard parents? Ryou didn't know what was so bad about that. If this magic was hereditary, then there had to be someone magical in the family somewhere. Ryou sighed again. He was sighing quite a bit today, wasn't he?
By the time dinner rolled around, Ryou was worked up about detention again. How long would it last? What would he have to do? Lines? Other homework? He hoped the latter, as he still had Flitwick's essay to write. His hand was sore, too. Quills were unusual to use and had begun to have ill-effects on his wrist.
It got so bad that, rather than eat the early dinner he planned on having before heading to detention, he couldn't hardly stomach the food before him. It looked utterly unappetizing and completely unpalatable. Did anyone else have detention, or was it only him? He felt guilty for thinking it, but he almost wished he wasn't alone.
/It's natural for people to want things like that. It means you're normal/ Bakura said. Ryou could feel his smirk. /It means you're no better than the rest of us, hikari/
/I never said I was. Where on earth would get get an idea like that?/
/You really are truly oblivious, aren't you?/
/I'm not! What are you talking about?/
/Never mind. Look, the Potter gang/ Bakura said suddenly, subtly directing Ryou's attention. Ryou glanced up. A loud girl was berating Harry about something, and although Ryou could just make out her voice distinctly carrying across the Great Hall, he couldn't hear what she was saying to him. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been good. Both had their proverbial hackles raised as if they had something to prove to the other.
After a few moments, Ryou stood. It was getting close to five, and he obviously wasn't going to be eating tonight. He'd be as well off to just head up to Professor Umbridge's room now. Better early than late. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry looking somewhat glum and picking at a lamb chop. What were the odds that Harry had detention, too?
He righted his bag over his shoulder. The main staircase would get him there with five minutes to spare, but he'd have to fight his way through the first wave of the dinner crowd. If he took the passageway Bakura found on the first floor, Ryou would get to Umbridge's third floor office right at five, avoiding everyone.
/Worth it. Do the passageway/ Bakura barked.
/Alright/ Ryou muttered, making his way through. He knocked on the door just as a nearby clock began to reverberate loudly with the first of five solid knells.
"Come in," came Umbridge's sugary-sweet voice.
Ryou pushed open the door, taken aback by what he saw. Aside from the numerous ornamental plates adorned with admittedly cute kittens frolicking with brightly colored bows around their necks, there were lace doilies, vases of dried flowers, and, most notably, Harry Potter. Ryou was taken aback to say the least.
Umbridge turned back to Harry, eyes noticeably narrow. "Now, what were you saying?"
Harry stared at Ryou for a moment, looking about as surprised as he was, before turning back to Umbridge. "Well, I'm... I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five o'clock on Friday and I was-was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it- do it another night... instead..."
Ryou listened soundlessly. The expression on Umbridge's face made the answer cruelly obvious.
"On, no," she said. Her smile would have been, on anyone else, pleasantly pleased. But Ryou had seen that expression before on Bakura's face. It was a smile that screamed 'canary eating cat'. And, although on Umbridge's froggy face, it seemed more like a toad who just snapped up a juicy fly, the look was unmistakable. "Oh no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr. Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience."
Ryou felt his blood chill as she continued to speak. This lesson she was trying to teach didn't seem so benign as it had at first. Perhaps there was a reason Bakura was just waiting for a chance to lash out at her again.
"There," Umbridge said, her sickly sweet smile never truly vanishing, "we're getting better at controlling out temper already, aren't we? Now, you two will be doing lines for me. No, not with your quill," she added.
Ryou glanced back at Harry, who was straightening up after going to dig in his bag for a quill.
"You're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are, boys," she purred insidiously. Between her stubby fingers were two narrow, black quills. "Ryou, you will write 'I must control my magic', and Harry, you will write 'I must not tell lies'."
"How many times?" Harry asked stiffly.
"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," she said. "Off you go." Umbridge made her way back to her desk looking very smug, appearing to grade papers. Ryou shuffled his way to one of the two desks brought into the office and sat down, quill poised over the sheet of parchment already laid out, when he paused. Something was missing.
"Um, pardon me, Professor Umbridge, ma'am?" he asked, trying to sound as polite as possible. "Harry and I don't have any ink."
"Oh, you won't need any ink," Professor Umbridge laughed.
Ryou looked back at the sheet of parchment. It wasn't hard to remember the last time he'd looked at something that should have been, by all rights, completely innocuous, but left a hint of dread bubbling up in Ryou's throat nonetheless. The end result of that had been a new 'tenant' who shared his body without so much as a second thought. But it was just parchment, right? Nothing to fear?
Perhaps the quills just had magical reservoirs of ink stored inside to expedite the process. If he didn't have to keep dipping the quill in ink, he could write more lines in the same period of time. Ryou glanced over at Harry, who had just sat down. Harry didn't seem to have any reservations about the quill, and was making the first of the marks without hesitation. Harry gasped softly.
Ryou's eyes went wide. What was it? Why did he gasp? But Harry only glared at Umbridge for a moment before resuming without pause.
Ryou's hand was shaking as it lowered over the parchment. I must control my magic, he wrote. The ink flowed easily from the tip of the quill, writing in the color of blood.
Ryou whimpered softly as a flash of pain lashed across the back of his hand. He was almost scared to look at the pained spot, but he turned his hand slowly and looked at the lines of red. 'I must control my magic' was written, in his own handwriting, on the back of his hand. Bakura's anger was immediate.
/THAT BITCH/ Bakura roared savagely, and Ryou gasped audibly in pain as the words scorched his mind. /HOW DARE SHE? SHE HAS NO RIGHT!/
"N-no-" Ryou whispered, unable to even think through the violent throbbing that was Bakura. He curled his rapidly healing hand into the other. "Don't, please, don't! It isn't a big deal, it's already healed-" His voice was quiet, and he hoped nobody could hear his murmurs.
/SHE IS DAMAGING THE HOST BODY AND I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT! I SHALL KILL HER!/ Bakura continued. The temperature of the room dipped, and a certain clamminess crawled along Ryou's arms and face. Chills rocketed along his spine in accordance with Bakura's rage. Darkness, visible only to the shadow mages, flowed freely around the room, driven by Bakura's wrath to dim the lights overhead and crawl ever closer to Umbridge.
"You can't-" Ryou's entire body was trembling with the force it took to keep Bakura at bay. The candles flickered ominously. Ryou's body was wracked by a savage spasm.
"Is something wrong?" Umbridge asked sweetly. She didn't appear to hear his words, but there was no telling what Harry, who sat so close, could hear and feel.
"Nothing," Ryou gasped desperately, louder, to Umbridge. /Bakura, please! If you do this, it'll ruin everything!/
/I told you, Hikari! I shall not stand for this! She has crossed the line this time!/
/I can handle it! Don't do it, please, Bakura!/ Ryou sobbed. His entire body was shaking as he began to write again, trying to hold Bakura back through sheer will to appear normal. The words lashed his hand again and again, cutting deeper with every repetition and yet healing somewhat every time.
"I can handle it," he whispered as softly as he could. "I can control it. I can handle it."
Bakura's rage gradually became a backburn simmer, and loathing flowed easily through the mindlink. Bakura was staring daggers at Professor Umbridge. Umbridge watched back, unknowing that the spirit was there, unknowing he would gladly slit her throat with Malik's beloved Millennium Rod or a dull spork given the chance.
Darkness, this of the natural and non-magical breed, fell outside the window. Ryou's soft mutters faded away with time as the threat of losing control became smaller and smaller, but the slight shimmer of tears never left his eyes fully. His lines were shaky and uneven from his quivering hand.
What if Bakura had taken over again? What if he had put Umbridge in a coma like he had those boys all those years ago? Bakura had no reservations about using shadow magic on others, Ryou knew this, but he usually went blissfully unaware of when it happened. He was content that way, to only know of the occasional mishap when reading about the 'mysterious coma' in one of the paper's passing mentions. Seeing it happen before him again, even though it had been years ago, Ryou didn't know what he would do.
They were closer, yes, but the cord that bound them in what Ryou could almost call friendship was flimsy and could easily snap. All it would take was for Bakura to overstep somewhere and he could easily tear Ryou back down to the pitiful mess he once was. It was all dishearteningly easy. Ryou's mental stability was much improved, but not perfect by any means. Although not as frequent as they once were, there were still times in the middle of the night when Ryou wept for his sister and mother, his father, his friends. There were times when Ryou forced a smile when all he wanted to do was break down and lose it.
Bakura would watch all this with his deep red eyes, Ryou's continuous rise and fall, but he never did anything about it. He didn't poke Ryou with barbs designed to inflict suffering, but neither did he have a kind word. Just sarcasm, for the most part. So long as nothing physically hurt Ryou and damaged the host body, Ryou was pretty sure Bakura didn't care what happened to him. That much had been obvious from the beginning. Things were going fairly well now, but how long would they last? Ryou could almost taste the storm clouds on the horizon, bitter with acrimony and blackened by a grim inevitability.
It was late when Professor Umbridge finally allowed them to stop, leaving Ryou almost in tears of joy. She summoned both up to her desk and examined their hands, Ryou all the while pondering just how much of an impact this night would have.
She tutted them, saying, "I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet. Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, then, won't we? You may go."
He followed Harry silently out of the room. Neither said a word to the other as they let the distance between them and Umbridge's office grow, an unspoken agreement tenuous but there. But when they reached the corner, and Harry opened his mouth to say something to Ryou, Ryou didn't give him the chance to say a word.
He fled without a second thought, and, upon hearing no footsteps following him, ducked into the nearest passageway. This one would take him straight to the dungeons and Slytherin common room, and away from Harry Potter.
He didn't know how much of that scene Harry had seen and understood, but it only took a hint of distrust and they'd never want to say a word to him again. Not to mention his promise to Dumbledore, that he'd protect them without telling them of Bakura. It was the only way to keep Harry safe. It was obvious that Harry hated Malfoy, which made it more difficult, but still! Surely Harry had seen that Ryou wasn't a bad person! They'd spent a fair amount of the summer together in that old Grimmauld Place!
But now the rift that had appeared the moment Ryou was sorted to Slytherin was growing larger and spreading them further and further apart. And if it got too large, Ryou could very likely fail Dumbledore simply because he was too far away.
Ryou could only groan to himself in misery. It felt like his whole world was crashing down around him and everything was impossibly difficult. He had so much homework, so much on his plate, he was exhausted, it was late, and his hand hurt. This was surely hell.
/I'm fairly certain you have to be dead to go to hell/ Bakura rumbled bluntly.
Ryou sniffled once. He couldn't help it- he began to cry softly to himself.
"How was detention?"
It was an innocent enough question. Malfoy seemed genuinely curious, at any rate.
"It was... fine," Ryou said, voice quavering slightly. "Lines. Nothing... too bad."
/Liar/
/I don't... I don't want to talk about it. There's nothing to say/
/Such as how you went back to your room and cried half the night?/
/Did not!/
/Yes, you did. You probably don't remember it because you were tired. You need sleep. And food/
/I'm not hungry/
Bakura settled on the bench across the table from Ryou as a semi-visible wisp, his eyes narrowed in a leer. /Yes you are, you just don't know it. Also, if you're just going to sit there and let that frog make you cut yourself up in detention for the next week, I don't think you should be allowed to starve yourself anymore. Seems... ungrateful. You know, considering there are starving orphans in Africa and all that/
/What do you care about starving- oh. You were one. Sorry/ Ryou muttered.
/I'd rather we change the subject now/
/Same here/
Bakura stared at Ryou for a long time, eyes never moving, never leaving Ryou's. The hikari dipped his head and pushed a small morsel of egg in circles around his plate. He could still feel the stare, vacant, thoughtful.
/Is something wrong?/
/Absolutely nothing/ Bakura replied, vanishing instantaneously. Ryou sighed and pushed the egg around a bit more, but did not eat it.
Time passed in miserable leaps and bounds. The words became etched deeper and deeper with every passing evening, and every night, Harry would try again to talk to Ryou about what had happened on that first night. But Ryou would always run off immediately after detention without so much as a word to Harry. Eventually, Ryou wouldn't even meet Harry's eye.
But one thing Harry did notice was that, after the third night, when the cuts became slow to heal and left deeper marks than the two times before, Ryou began wearing black cloth gloves around the castle in an attempt to hide the marks. A strange bulge under the fabric of one glove reminded him of a thick bandage that was hidden underneath.
Perhaps Ryou had the same train of thought as he- that this Umbridge business was a silent matter, a test of wills that wasn't to be spoken of to anyone else. At any rate, Ryou seemed about as tired as he was. Whenever Harry saw him in the classes that Gryffindors shared with Slytherins, he seemed tired and withdrawn, even more so than before. He even looked paler, if that was even possible. Like he wasn't eating.
Sometimes, curious, Harry would glance over to look at the Slytherin table. It was a piece of cake to pick out the two white-blond heads from the sea of black cloaks. And every time, Malfoy was eating, and Ryou was not. Eventually, he stopped showing up at all, not withstanding the occasional appearance at dinner. But Harry was too tired to think much on it.
Every night after Umbridge's evil detentions, Harry was forced to stay up absurdly late in an attempt to keep up with the massive waves of homework that constantly threatened to swallow him up. The only thing that got him through those long sessions was repeating the same words over and over again in his mind. She's evil. She's an evil, twisted, mad, old-
"Ron?" Harry asked.
His best friend was hiding behind a statue with his new broom, mumbling some excuse about hiding from Fred and George.
"What have you got you got your broom for, you haven't been flying, have you?" Harry asked.
Ron flushed very red, and seemed to be turning redder with every passing second that it took to stutter out his secret, that he was trying out for Gryffindor Keeper. He seemed reassured, however, when Harry said, "It's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team!" He smiled and relaxed some as they began to walk back to the common room, Ron chatting excitedly about how he was practicing.
"Harry, what's that on the back of your hand?" Ron asked suddenly.
Harry froze, fingers scratching absently at his nose. He'd forgotten. How had he forgotten? "It's just a cut- it's nothing- it's-" he babbled.
Ron seized his arm, ignoring him. "I thought you said she was giving you lines?"
Harry hesitated. But Ron had been honest with him. It was only fair that Harry tell his friend the truth.
"The old hag!" Ron said, his voice a revolted whisper as they grew nearer to the portrait hole. "She's sick! Go to McGonagall, say something!"
"No," Harry said immediately. "I'm not giving her that satisfaction. But listen, Bakura? Ryou? He had detention, too."
"You're kidding. For what?"
"I don't know, but he had to write 'I must control my magic', so maybe... Maybe he just lost control in her class? But that's not the strangest thing. When he started writing with the quill the first time, it was as if, I'm not sure, it was almost as if he was trying to hold himself back. He kept whispering 'no', 'please don't' and 'I can handle it' again and again. He looked like he was about to cry. And then the room got cold, and the lights all got dim..."
"Reckon we should ask 'Mione about it?"
"Maybe," Harry said with a shrug. They gave the Fat Lady the password and slipped inside. Hermione was sitting in a chair, head bowed over a 'hat', although it more closely resembled a shapeless wool bladder.
He sat down heavily, suddenly realizing that, in order to talk about Ryou, they had to first tell Hermione about what Umbridge had done to him in detention. After the initial fury, Hermione calmed down enough to listen to the rest of the story.
"'Please don't'? 'I can handle it'? Are you sure that's what he said?" Hermione asked. "That's very odd. It definitely sounded as if he didn't want to lose control. But what would it be that would make him lose control? Unless it was..." Hermione's eyes flashed. "Ron, what do you remember from Ryou's first day at Grimmauld?"
"Er... Not a whole lot. That was weeks ago."
"Well, I do. Lupin said that Ryou was unpredictable. And when we were on the stairs, and I called him Bakura, he acted completely differently for a moment when he said to just call him Ryou. There were other things, too, probably. Things I can't remember right now."
"Well, you're the one who spent the most time with him. You and Ginny."
"Hermione and me what?" Ginny's voice drifted from the girl's dormitory staircase. She took the last few steps down the stairs and crossed her arms, standing in the common room.
Ron frowned at his sister. "Just where are you going?" he asked, and she leered at him.
"I was just getting a book I had left down here. What's it to you?"
"Sure you weren't going to visit with Dean?" Ron accused.
Ginny's glare became very icy. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Ron."
"Ginny, what do you remember about Ryou?" Hermione asked.
She shrugged. "I don't know. He was really polite. He worked really hard, too. He was excited about learning, uh, what did he call it? 'Such controlled magic'? Uh... he was really interested in cursed objects and ancient magic, too. That's about it, I think. I was actually a little surprised when he ended up in Slytherin house, if it means anything. I thought he would have been a Hufflepuff. I guess his family was one of those who always went to Slytherin," she mused, picking up an abandoned book off of a nearby table. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Hermione said. "We were just wondering."
The morning after his final detention, Ryou glanced over at the Daily Prophet in mild curiosity during breakfast (he had always read the paper at home) and, to his surprise, saw the toad-like face of Professor Umbridge smiling at him from the front page. The headline blared 'Ministry Seeks Educational Reform- Dolores Umbridge Appointed First-Ever "High Inquisitor"'. And, stomach churning, he couldn't help but glance at the soft gloves that covered his hands and the thick bandage he had wrapped around the cut.
Every detention had gouged the wound deeper and deeper into the back of his hand, and his thin skin was prone to tearing open at the slightest provocation. The worst part was that, once it began to bleed, it didn't seem to want to stop, and the best Ryou could do was bind it tightly and hope that it would stop soon. The only comfort now was the small, reptilian body curled tightly around his wrist under the hem of his robe's sleeve. He had taken to carrying Uraeus around for company since there was no one else to talk to. Bakura had been mysteriously absent for the last few days, ever since that morning. Ryou was starting to get worried.
He poked a small strip of bacon into his sleeve, feeling Uraeus snap it up slyly and return to his previous position. He was the only reason Ryou had bothered to come to breakfast at all. It certainly wasn't to listen to Malfoy laugh about how he and several others had ruined Gryffindor's Quidditch practice, the same practice the trio had promised to give Ryou before school had started. In fact, if Ryou recalled correctly, his broom was at the bottom of his suitcase, the inside of which he had enlarged with magic.
But that wasn't the point, and Ryou doubted he even had the energy for it anyway. He ate nothing save a little bit of breakfast most days, not even bothering to show up for lunch and dinner. The only way he managed to stay afloat, balancing homework, makeup work, and the charms he practiced in his secret room, was to skip the mealtimes in favor of studying. Most days he simply stayed in the library when it was still fairly empty. When the after-dinner study crowd hit, he usually retreated to the solace of the private room. It was all becoming very routine.
Silently, Ryou pushed himself up from his seat at the table. A slice of toast had settled his queasy stomach, and Uraeus would be fine on that slice of bacon for several days, easily. There was no reason to stay. Ryou slunk out of the hall and to the library.
When he arrived, he selected a book at random off the shelves and brought it back to a table, leaving it open but not really reading it. Instead, he rested his hand on his cheek, bringing Uraeus close to his ear while simultaneously appearing to read.
"Have you seen Bakura lately?" he asked in a slight, worried whisper of Parseltongue. Madame Pince glanced over at him suspiciously, but seemed not to notice or hear the hushed hissing sounds that did not carry well through the still library air.
"I have not. Curioussss, isssn't it? But I would not worry. He isss like a fire. Sssometimesss a sssteady flame that isss unwavering and other timess volitile and ready to burn thossse who get too clossse. He will return when hisss inferno coolsss sssomewhat," the snake replied sagely. "I take it you're worried about him?"
"Of course I'm worried, but not about him," Ryou replied indignantly. "I'm more worried about the rest of the school. I can't feel him at all and he could have killed a teacher for all I know. And anything he does will be blamed on me since we look as similar as we do. He ruins everything and makes my life an eternal hell."
"Now, now. He isssn't ssso bad. Do not forget, Bakura isss fire. Fire feedss from emotionssss that are raw and pure. You yoursself underssstand, I pressume? One mussst know true pain to fear that which issss lesssser. Jusst asssss you worry about otherss from the losss of thossse you love, Bakura too hasss a ssstrong opinion about how to presssserve hiss ssssanity. You two sssimply ssssee it differently."
"True pain? What sort of true pain? Bakura doesn't feel pain. He's the coldest fire I've ever seen," Ryou said, slightly bitterly. "He's always mean and heartless. And selfish. I can't forget selfish."
"But what about when Bakura wassss young? You know hiss parents died asss yoursss did. You believe he doesss not think about that every day he hass ever been alive? That he relivessss it in hiss nightmaress assss you do your own?"
Ryou clamped his hands over his ears. "I don't care. Bakura needs to know that he can't take it out on others. There's a right way to grieve and a wrong way."
"Sssso you deem it inappropriate for him to fixsssate on you asss his way of grieving?"
Ryou frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"You know Bakura focussssess all hiss attentionss on you becaussse he cannot ssstand to losssse anyone he caresss for. He will not allow it to happen again. It iss why he brought me back from Osssirisss'sss clutches and why he doesss not allow anyone to touch you."
"I don't see how that's true pain. I know he was lonely when he was little, and that he grew up as an orphan in Egypt, but I still don't see why that would make him into a psychopath."
"Do you remember the boggart from the musssty housse? How everyone you loved fell into a pot of liquid gold?"
"Of course I do. How could I forget something as terrible as that? I didn't even know I was afraid of something like that before it happened."
"What you witnesssssed wasssss Bakura's greatest fear, assss well asss hiss worssst memory. Everyone he knew and loved wasss murdered before hisss eyess to create the very item you wear on your neck right now. Their soulsss will not ressst until Bakura unitesss them. He hearsss them sssscreaming for vengeance every time he clossess hiss eyess. And you wonder why he doess not wish to lose more of thossse he cares for," the snake scoffed.
Ryou could only stare at the book on the table before him, mouth gaping open with shock. Bakura had certainly never told him that side of the story. Bakura had only ever said he had raised himself on the mean, unforgiving Egyptian streets and that his parents had died when he was young. He had never made a mention of how, and Ryou had never even bothered to ask.
Guilt nagged at his heart as this dawned on him. Was Bakura a monster for the same reason that Ryou considered him one? Bakura, mean because his family and friends were killed before his eyes, and Ryou thinking he was mean because all Ryou had ever known was that, surely, people who cared didn't hurt those they loved?
Maybe... if Bakura cared, that meant his father did, too. Ryou smiled softly, closing his eyes. To think there was good in the people Ryou least expected... it felt so nice to consider. But Bakura didn't care for him, and neither did his father. The truth was harsh, no matter how much Ryou wished he could see them so positively. Bakura kept Ryou around for convenience's sake. There was no affection, and no grounds for such a silly notion, either. Everything Bakura did was a calculated piece of a larger plan, and Ryou could play along or always be miserable. It was better to simply take the good where it came and hope the bad was rare and fast.
What Bakura did, he did for himself. Uraeus was a second line of defense to ensure nothing happened to Ryou when Bakura was away, not that Ryou knew how such a tiny snake could do any real good. The room that Ryou had been given on his birthday, that was probably being used as a secret headquarters for Bakura's next over-orchestrated scheme right at this very moment. A room such as that one had to have a second purpose. There was no way that Bakura would give him that room out of the kindness of his heart. Hah! Kindness. Bakura didn't know what kindness was.
Absently, Ryou glanced down at the book before him. Benevolent Botanicals was the title. The page before him described the many uses of murtlap, and Ryou smiled again. It looked like it would help his hand very much, and if Ryou ever found Bakura, he could send the spirit out to find some. If he ever found Bakura. The smile slipped away and Ryou sighed. Just where had that spirit gotten off to?
Oh well. He still had to practice for charms class, something he couldn't do very well here, before classes started. He needed to go up to his secret room sooner rather than later if he wanted to get the spell down before his first class.
"Where are you going?" he asked Uraeus, who had slipped to the floor while Ryou was lost in thought.
"I'm going for a nice sssslither around the castle. You sssseem like you have better thingsss to do."
"Don't get caught," Ryou warned.
The snake only laughed at him. "Like I would get caught. There are passsssages in the wallsss fit for sssserpentsss that I shall take. No one will sssssee me. I can meet you at your private room before your firsssst classs, if you would like," he offered.
Ryou smiled and nodded. "Thank you, I would like that. Goodbye Uraeus, have a nice walk, uh slither. And if you see Bakura, tell him to pick up some murtlap from the potions room. I need some for my hand. It's not a big deal, though, if you don't see him, or he won't do it. I can get some from Potions after lunch."
The snake nodded and slipped out of the library, sticking to the shadows where light wouldn't be able to touch his bright scales. Humans streamed a thousand different directions around him, repulsive with the aroma of life and mortality and rippling with the strangest magic conceivable. He kept his mouth tightly shut to help keep the stench at bay.
A niche in the wall allowed him to slip into the vast labyrinth of wall tunnels, large enough for a snake many times Uraeus's size and easily accessible for a serpent as small as him. He knew where Bakura was, not that he'd ever tell the hikari. It was at Bakura's request.
When Uraeus heard the sound of rattling chains, he knew he was getting close. Bakura had spent the first day or two wrecking havoc with Peeves, but it hadn't really distracted him as much as he had hoped it would. Bakura eventually gave up and did what he did best- sit silently and skulk. The Bloody Baron was the best company for this.
"Ryou issssn't angry, you know. Well, he isss a little, but he isss more worried that you're away."
"I heard. And he's just worried that I'll do something, he's not worried about me. I really fucked up big time," Bakura grumbled.
He was semi-corporeal and seated in the corner of the highest floor of the North Tower. His legs were drawn up to his chest. If it wasn't for the black expression on his face and general, disheveled appearance, he would have looked like a ghostly Ryou. His black coat pooled around him and dissolved into nothingness the further it got from Bakura's body. From his seat, Bakura glared moodily at Uraeus.
The snake wiggled in what was almost a shrug. "Ssstill, I do think you sshould ssstop sssulking up here. I thought you wanted to protect him from himssself."
"I do! But he's self-destructive when he's upset and I don't want to push him more than he already is."
"You know, that'sss your own fault," Uraeus said. "You told me yourssself, Ryou wouldn't have been like thiss if you and Zorc hadn't messssed him up ssso badly asss a child. But that'sss done and gone. He doesssn't hold you completely resssponsssible. And you alssso said that you wanted to make it up to him. Sssso what are you going to do about it?"
"I haven't decided," he growled. "When it comes to that blasted Pharaoh, I can think of a thousand different plans and tactics. The items, the same. But I can't think of a single thing to do when it comes to Yadonushi."
"If it helpssss, Ryou assked for a favor."
Bakura looked surprised. "He did?"
"He ssssaid that he needed murtlap. Perhapsss if you brought it to him before hiss potionss classs, he would forgive you for your near-outburst. It would alssso give you an opportunity to, with a clear conssscience, think of a way to gain hiss approval. The sssituation will only make your judgement more and more clouded the longer it lasts."
"I know, I know," Bakura snapped. "You said it all yesterday. Some emotion is good. Too much is bad. And worrying about it makes it harder to think. I've got this. Now go back to hikari. Stay close to him. Don't let him hurt himself. You've been making him eat, right? I don't know why he's starving himself, but I don't approve."
"I've been making him take me to the Great Hall for breakfasst, if that'ss what you're assking. What he eatss iss hiss own decisssion."
Bakura let his head fall back and hit the wall. "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. And Yadonushi is the only horse I've ever seen that's as stubborn as me."
"Jussst like mulesss, the two of you. Refusssing to concede even an inch. Makesss my job near imposssible," Uraeus grumbled. "Ssee you later, Bakura. Perhapsss today? It hass been nearly a week, you know."
"Perhaps. I'll think about it."
Uraeus is a wonderful little plot device, isn't he?