SORRY about my laziness - -;;; And misplaced mind.
Review responses for the last chapter are also at the bottom of the page. I'm really sorry . . . but school is over, so I hopefully won't be quite so absent minded in the future
Song of the Chapter: "Cherry Blossom Girl" Air
"There was a boy . . .
A very strange, enchanted boy.
They say he wandered very far,
--very far--
over land and sea . . .
A little shy, and sad of eye
but very wise, was he.
And then one day,
one magic day, he passed my way.
While we spoke of many things,
fools and kings,
this he said to me:
'The greatest thing you'll ever learn
is just to love . . . and be loved in return'"
- Massive Attack & David Bowie, "Nature Boy"
After nearly three weeks of hanging about a delightfully old, gothic setting, the airport seemed strangely transparent, plastic, and overly noisy. Voices turned nasal-like in tone from mechanical phenomena, echoing in periodic spurts to turn every soul aware of each and every flight--in each and every language of course.
Yuugi felt his companion fidget at the unfamiliar locale, often darting his sight back to the short boy as if he were a dearly seen life-jacket.
"It's difficult to imagine so many people, acting so comfortable in these places." Yuugi offered randomly, hoping that the other man would at least relax slightly. The tenseness of his aura was rather stifling in the physically-stifling building. Midsummer in a place half made of glass was not particularly comfortable.
The stressed and hurried travelers darting around—hastily biting into sandwiches, sheparding unruly children out of stores, puzzling over the multi-lingual signs for 'restroom'—did not help matters either. The best the pair could attempt was to stay out of their paths.
"Oh yes, I agree wholeheartedly" The dusky, brown-haired man examined an eccentric old lady, muttering obscenities under her breath with a slightly startled expression.
To avoid direct conflict with a distinguishably large suitcase, the Japanese boy had to actually take Lupin's arm with a tight grip to steer him away.
He steered them off to the side, to lines of shabby leather chairs facing a wide window that overlooked the runways. The bold sign proclaiming 'D10' triumphed over them.
Lupin blinked up at it.
"Here we are," Yuugi sighed.
"Should we . . . ?" The older man paused his eyes significantly at the bored-looking lady filing her nails behind a desk.
"No, we're only picking some people up." He was beginning to become mightily peeved at the constant array of reminders that were completely ridiculous. "We're not actually going on a plane and riding to Japan . . . "
The man looked abruptly startled.
"What? You mean people actually ride those things?!" he said gesturing to the sleek white shapes shimmering and bathing dormantly in the noonday sunlight.
Yuugi closed his eyes and counted to ten. This was becoming an extraneously long day.
"Yes," he affirmed through gritted teeth "we do."
They chose a pair of unoccupied seats, further from the rest of the anxious crowd than others may have opted to. Or rather, Yuugi flopped himself down in a place where they couldn't be overheard (in case there was something that needed to be said), and Remus followed obediently.
The man with the faded-brown hair smoothed out imaginary crinkles in his black trousers, and sat down gingerly while his head darted around toward the slightest sights and sounds.
Yuugi noted that his most immediate attention befell upon a child walking backward on a convenient span of moving floor, giving the illusion he was walking, but not really going anywhere. Soon, even the Japanese boy was quite taken with the odd image, simply because there was nothing else to examine.
The boy noticed them staring after a while, and a mischievous look soon fell upon his face. He made an ugly expression with the aid of his hands.
The intercom belonging to their gate crackled on and the voice of the bored secretary rang out around them. Lupin jumped slightly.
"Flight 206, the direct flight from Tokyo, Japan will be arriving shortly. Flight 206, the direct flight from To-ky-o Jap-an will be arriving shortly."
------
Rain splattered messily on the outer edge of the window. The skies were dark and saturated enough with moisture that the electric lighting in the train reflected off the glass in untidy ripples.
The compartment was rather quiet in comparison to years past. He supposed that it might have something to do with the weather, or their meeting at Diagon Alley a week previous, or perhaps their growing age and maturity.
It was still difficult to believe that they were already in their seventh, and final, year of their magical education. He sometimes felt as though he were trapped in a haze of wishful thinking, that he would just wake up in his fourth year dormitory again, with the expectant mindset of many more years of innocence ahead.
And besides, this horrid weather was unfit for the daydreams he sported since first year of his triumphant start to a wonderful final year.
Harry frowned. Dark, dismal and damp--as usual.
"Why does it always seem to rain on the day we arrive to school?" he commented quietly to himself. The proclaimed Boy Who Lived sighed and averted his eyes to the dreary scene of a shadowed landscape, flashing by.
Meanwhile, his friends started up again in one of their usual mini-feuds, regarding mundane topics of everyday occurrence. There was an odd level of comfort in seeing them arguing. Harry hid a smile behind his hand.
"I already told you I wouldn't help you out of this mess." Hermione said haughtily, not bothering to look up from her thick textbook.
Ron brandished his well-worn quill at her, trying to get her eye's attention.
"Hermione, come on--"
"No."
"It's not--"
"You told me you finished it!"
"I FORGOT it, okay Hermione?"
Harry chuckled to himself as his two best friends glared and 'humphed' to themselves. Maybe this year wouldn't be quite as horrible as he figured . . .
------
"Where are they?" Yuugi finally wondered aloud, voicing his apprehensive mindset.
The stream of people steadily flowing into the stuffy gate was thinning. It had been nearly twenty minutes of exiting and bustling into the terminal, and no one had showed that was familiar at all.
He frowned deeply, his eyes furrowing habitually as he crossed his arms over his lean chest. The stylish and perfectly-tailored suit he had been pressured into wearing from his eccentric employers hung without wrinkles and with a certain aura of wicked expediency through that particular pose, and Yuugi was painfully aware of it.
His growing distress mingled desperately with a sense of indignant wariness he was also quite certain showed on his face.
"Are you sure we're at the right gate?" he asked for the millionth time within his own head, and the first time out loud.
"Of course." Lupin had calmed himself to that level of smooth tranquility that he was opt to adopt. "D10."
"How about the time?"
"3:15, flight 206."
Yuugi felt a sudden overwhelming urge to hang his head.
Then he wished Yami was there with him, rather than lazing about back at the castle, so he could hug him and dismiss that horrible weighted feeling in his stomach . . .
He sighed, instead, turning his eyes downcast slightly.
"What do your friends look like?" the brown-haired man asked, in a gentle tone as if he sensed some of Yuugi's unease.
The mention of his old companions in such a direct way succeeded in getting him to smile warmly at the memory, and suddenly, he didn't feel so bad at all. Looking up into the dusty-brown and circled eyes brought him to allow his eyes to glitter.
"Well, first there's Jou . . . "
A well-timed crash and whirl of distant-sounding expletives saved Lupin from Yuugi's overwhelming sentimentality--(that often went out of hand).
Both males blinked to the adjustable hall that connected the belly of the plane to the official gate. A greater variety of odd noises in increasing volume came upon their ears, and they both turned rather quizzical looks to the direction of the voices.
"Just--! Man, eww. Not cool."
"You're being a drama queen, I wouldn't--"
"Drool on me?! Well, you did."
Wide violet eyes brightened to a lovely glimmer as a swift smile, not unlike his Yami's, graced his lips slowly.
Lupin shot him another wary glance.
"No I didn't!"
Both voices were becoming more and more heated; to an almost comical degree.
"You know? I think Kaiba really has a point with the whole 'inu-baka' thing . . . "
Another crash, brief scuffle.
"Who the hell are you to talk to me about KAIBA?!"
Two lanky forms, still possessing colt-like awkwardness in their thin limbs, tumbled abruptly out of the doorway as each of the boys grabbed for each-others' throats. They were still spindly with a teenage aura of much to eat, while wasting away all the same, and bent around each other in a most obvious wrestling match, they looked like two insects fighting to the death.
They tumbled and growled at each other in between the shocked forms of a few Japanese ladies, as their husbands and boyfriends steered them away with stoic expressions toward the two scuffling teens. A few words could be made out between the blatant insults.
"--Stupid Inu--"
"--Stupid Kaiba--"
"--Stupid, rat-nest-hair--"
"--Stupid people who wear too much gel!"
Snarling heads of wild sandy blonde and too-controlled brown swiftly continued their little scuffle.
Lupin's eyebrows hung suspended near his hairline, adopting an almost doe- like confusion apparent on his face.
Are these . . . ?
The scuffle abruptly halted, the sandy-haired boy lying with his face up and arms over his head on the gaudy airport carpet. A goofy and somehow mischievous smile despite his apparent loss of their juvenile battle.
Yuugi didn't even have a chance to shake his head when he noticed that the boy's smile was most likely directed to the rather compromising position between a rather attractive woman's stiletto-clad legs.
His eyes were gazing up.
"Hmm," he said, with a sort of faraway quality seeping into his voice "cute panda bear panties. Not bad . . . "
The woman looked ready to commit provoked homicide. Onlookers saw the fire behind her mascara framed eyes, her fists curling, knuckles paling--and new that the kid didn't have a chance . . .
. . . But . . .
--SMACK!--
An unidentified yet deliberately swung purse caught the side of the blonde's head with a great deal of indignant moodiness building behind the movement. It was frilly, cute, and pink--but deadly to a man's pride.
The force of the collision sent the boy reeling off to the side, seeing stars.
An exasperated look followed him, as a girl with neat brown hair fingered her purse as an assassin would his rifle. Her expression lightened after a while as she turned toward the still-steaming woman caught in the middle of the situation.
"You'll have to excuse him," the attacker said in a slightly incensed tone "but he's male. And therefore, 'knows not what he does'."
She turned back to the boy seeing stars.
"You'll have to excuse him for his stupidity--because he already understands I won't." she growled.
The woman managed a wry smile of understanding, and a few scattered chuckles sounded from the on looking crowd. She slung her handbag over her shoulder and walked away, as her high-heels echoed throughout the expanse of dispersing pedestrians.
It was one of those codes of the female species in the world that allowed the woman not to be worried, and not look back.
The brown-haired girl was less-than-pleased when her two traveling companions mustered up the courage to glare back at her. They both started talking at once, scrambling up to her on all fours, but none of their words could be discernable from the random babbling.
"What the hell, Anzu . . . "
"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!" she bellowed, cutting off their weak excuses quite completely. They blinked up at her, slowly shifting away as slowly and as smoothly as possible, but she grabbed an ear of both boys and hoisted them up to their feet.
Hell hath no fury . . . both Yuugi and Lupin thought to themselves, as they wisely stood away from the scene.
"Cant you two go more than ten minutes without being completely--immature-- fighting like that--or, or--"
"You missed 'utterly charming'!" spoke up the brown-haired boy, with a nervous laugh.
"--complete perverts!" she finished angrily.
They both cried out as she tore her hands away from their ears as if she were intending to tear them off.
When her eyes narrowed into dangerously glittering slits and her hands were curling into positions reminiscent of the woman who had left moments before, Yuugi knew things were going to get ugly if he didn't intervene. Usually, she would slap them angrily and that would be the end of it, but he noticed there was a little more going on behind that furious expression.
She was close to a breaking point, he realized suddenly.
"Anzu?" he spoke up hesitantly.
She turned immediately to her name, and the familiar voice she had been anticipating for weeks. Her eyes were closed, but she knew she faced him, knew she faced that voice that calmed her dreams and always succeeded in calming her senses.
Bright azure eyes opened slowly, glowing oddly under dark lashes.
They blinked, as a slow smile played on the girl's lips.
"Yuugi?"
He gave her a reassuring look, that familiar friendly look that had charmed so many into happiness . . .
And she melted.
"Yuugi."
She captured him into her arms, dimly aware of how she hadn't hugged him for years, and how he had grown so much taller than she last remembered. He even smelled older--a satisfying pertinent scent of cologne--it was all overwhelming to have him there again.
You didn't tell us where you had gone, she thought we had thought we had lost you . . .
He held her tighter as if sensing her distress; and he had. Ever so gently, he wiped off the tears draining down her face before anyone else but the two of them could witness the brief interlude of weakness.
What's happened to you, Anzu?
However, before the moment between them had a chance to continue, two overgrown imps collided with the two of them, yelling and laughing.
"Yuugi! Hey man, what's up!"
Jou's drawl brought a smile to his face.
. . . We're back.
------
"My goodness!" Ron posed dramatically as the fourth (at least) younger student bowled into him with vigor, but the deepest apologies. "Kids these days!"
Harry had to laugh at his best friend's obvious over exaggeration regarding the immaturity of the younger students. Finding it all the more amusing, because Ron had accidentally knocked into people with adolescent gracelessness, numerous times when they were younger.
Ron mock stumbled into the Great Hall, his brand new robes (for once) flailing about his tall frame with incredible polish. Harry walked a few feet behind his staggers, laughing gaily without holding back, occasionally throwing back his head in humor at the more hilarious stunts. One particular occasion, the Weasley barged right into a fourth year Hufflepuff conversation as if he were drunk, catching 'incidentally' onto the waist of a particularly pretty witch. They both fell, and as Ron pretended to lay motionless, the poor girl was horrified that she had hurt him.
Hermione sighed next to him, her arms crossed and glare magnificent.
Whilst the girl was rambling and shaking him in an attempt to bring him back into consciousness, his head lolled to the side . . . A perfect opportunity for him to slyly wink at Harry while the fourth-years talked tensely and frightened.
Harry grinned back.
Unfortunately for their fun, however, Hermione also noted the exchange with her hawk-like gaze, which narrowed drastically. Without bothering for her ordinary excuses and polite words, she barged into the squealing fray with her sleeves rolled up and murder apparent in her expression.
She immediately clutched onto her flirting friend's shoulder with a gruffness that Harry hadn't supposed she possessed, and drew him up roughly as he cried out in pain. The girl who he had come so close to messing with shrieked and flew back into a pile of black robes, as she noticed he had been awake and anticipating the entire time.
"OW! Hermione! What was that for?!"
Her lips pursed, as she continued to drag him over to the Gryffindor table despite his numerous protests.
"I'm getting you away from there before you do something most regrettable and completely stupid." She hissed snidely, dumping him unceremoniously onto their usual bench.
Ron made only one resonating yelp of pain which momentarily halted surrounding conversations of the returning students. Under his breath, however, he had one-hundred-and-one things to mention that would have made any one of his professors blush.
Harry, resignedly, avoided any unwanted attention by the two of them in matching moods of weighty annoyance by quietly sitting to an unoccupied seat on the other side of the table. He avoided their pouts and glares (familiar enough, after over six years) and chose with a wary avoidance to examine his welcome surroundings instead.
It was slightly startling to discover that his entrance into the Great Hall wasn't nearly as awe-inspiring as he swore in years past; he didn't think that he would ever get over the sight. And yet he hardly noticed it. The hall was familiar anymore, almost ordinary he thought with his eyes slightly furrowed.
That wasn't the only thing that was rather anticlimactic. In fact, everything seemed smaller, and more average, including the paintings and once-grand staircases shifting slowly above them as they walked through the main entrance hall. Even the people were nothing spectacular. Now, as he glanced through the hall, in between tables and uncomfortable-looking, black-clad students, everyone seemed a little misplaced and slightly uncomfortable.
His eyes softened--that was the feeling he had recalled. That tossing and turning sensation stirring deep in his stomach which allowed even growing youths to temporarily forget their ravenous hungers.
He offered a few well-placed smiles of reassurance to faces pale even from the shadows cast by orange-hued candles as they danced along the lines of nose, of mouth, of eyes.
A few jolted to shaky smiles in return, one or two straightened up with renewed assurance . . .
. . . None to few whispered to their peers and pointed at his scar with the sort of awe worthy only of a god.
He sighed, swiveling in his seat and turning back to face his friends. Somehow, he doubted if he would ever get used to that sort of recognition.
He missed being normal.
/Will I ever be able to walk down Diagon Alley without being seen as a hero?/
"Hello-o-o-o-o Harry!"
"Lovely train ride, eh?"
Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnagan jumped as a pair to the right side of the sullen teen, slapping him on the back with force enough to knock the wind out of his lungs, and the temperament to laugh as he coughed into his empty gold plate. Once he got his breath under control, he bestowed the both of them a rather strained smile.
"Not precisely . . . lovely."
Seamus laughed again, his hazel eyes bright under a stylishly long fringe acting as bangs.
"Aw, come on!" he pushed aside a few extravagant candlesticks before speaking again—this time with his gigantic hand-gestures that made a few of the younger students wince away "Ya've gotta be used to this rubbish by now?"
"The rain?" Harry asked.
"I doubt anyone could get used to this weather," Dean broke in, gesturing over his shoulder to the reflective ceiling and the thickly falling phantom raindrops disappearing about five feet above their heads.
"Meh," Seamus stuck his tongue out at the both of them.
Harry turned forward, eyes not seeing but smiling faintly to himself.
Hermione's bushy brown head caught his view, as she watched him with a matching expression--though her mouth was quirked into a characteristically Hermione half-smile and clever twist of her large brown eyes. They stared at each other for a moment.
Neither of them could believe it.
"It's difficult to actually realize, that--"
"Yes," Hermione said softly, her eyes closing gently to savor the moment "I can't believe we're finally here."
A sudden hush spread over the hall, and the two friends turned to the source of the anti-fuss.
The Headmaster stood with that peculiar beam as his eyes cast over the faces of his students. His half-moon glasses winked in the candlelight at alternating intervals, matching with his antique-styled cream robes, sewn with inlaid gold thread. He placed his hair over his shoulders as it was held in place by a violet wizard-hat that also served in hiding his retreated hairline.
He held his hands fondly in front of him, looking around even after the hush developed into a comfortable silence.
Without bothering words, he held out his hand toward the group of nervous students (Harry refused to believed that he was actually that small as a first year), standing off to the side. They fidgeted horribly.
Professor McGonnagall uncovered the shabby hat they knew so well, and it lay on a stool for everyone to see. Without any further prompting, the charmed Sorting Hat broke out in an overly loud song depicting values between the various houses.
Harry wasn't listening particularly. An odd feeling was warming his stomach again.
I can't believe we've made it this far.
------
Hermione smiled in all the right places for the sorting song, but inwardly groaning at its bad rhymes and rather cliché wording from stanza to stanza.
There were no terse warnings in it's words this year, from what she could tell, just lines upon lines of innocent outlines for the traditional house rivalries. She pursed her lips for a moment, pondering how illogical the hat really was; here it was, assuming rivalries between the houses, when it was the same hat who warned them to stay together in light of recent events!
Stupid, senile old hat. she thought to herself.
The song succeeded in lightening up a majority of the first years—they managed to remember to clap along with the rest of the school as Professor McGonnagall surveyed the school as a whole, neatly unraveling an oversized scroll. She adjusted her glasses primly, and cleared her throat, warning them of the beginning.
"Adale, Felicity . . . "
A pale girl with dark, too-long bangs stumbled forward. She was the sort that always looked just a tad bit moody, with a constant and probably unintentional scowl sealing her featureless face. Without hesitation, she allowed the large hat to flop over to the bridge of her nose, patches and stains standing out peculiarly on her head.
"RAVENCLAW!!!" the hat shrieked, and said house erupted in triumphant cheers as the first student of the year was initiated into the house. Hermione, among a few others, opted to clap politely at the suddenly warming smile that spread across the girl's face.
With a fond smile, she looked over the rest of the first years for the umpteenth time, looking upon each face with a common thought in her head.
They're so cute.
A wave of maternal fondness went out to them from her.
The evening was proceeding just as she had imagined to that point. Nothing out of the ordinary as she knew it (a talking hat was indeed ordinary to her anymore), and they were already proceeding into the "Darling, Stephanie"s and "Donohue, Damon"s as the night was still young.
It was pleasant enough, she supposed, up until that particular moment.
She couldn't remember the precise instant when she noticed something out of the ordinary. It was just a haze of delirious suddenness and a sudden foreboding.
A chill swept swiftly swept through the hall.
It was unmistakably a draft from outside the castle, and everyone in the hall, including the startled professors craned their heads to the cause of the commotion. There was a deeply toned creak of the ancient front doors, and the unmistakable sound of them slowly pushed shut. The deep boom caused what candles were left burning from the wind, to flicker precariously over drips of hot wax.
Hermione shrunk slightly when she realized how dark it was. Ron was gripping his seat tightly beside her, his face pale but wide and unreadable. Harry, on the other side of her, had his eyebrows furrowed, but his eyes were hidden under his untidy mop of hair.
Whispers hissed, shushes tried to override them.
A clicking sound approached them from outside the hall, and almost immediately, the entire hall fell silent again. The sound of clicking heels along polished marble came, lazy and drawn out, pausing slightly before finally entering the doors.
Hermione stared.
It was a man--one she had never seen before.
Hermione blinked in surprise.
Well, she assumed he was a man. Really, he was quite feminine in his facial features. With large, almond shaped lilac-shade eyes, a pointy nose and otherwise angular features, she knew he must be the envy of any woman he had ever met.
An ironic smirk graced his face as he stared forward.
His waist and chest were thin, very thin, almost apparently unhealthily so. He wore a skin-tight black top that accentuated his slender form and tanned arms that were visible under his long black coat. Hermione recognized his style as vaguely muggle, but certainly nothing ordinary.
If she was to express her opinion on the man at first glance, she would have said in a haze of her once-ignorant muggle lifestyle that he looked like a magical being. The candles illuminating his tanned, beautiful, face made the feeling all the more profound.
Suddenly realizing that he seemed almost oddly Arabian, she suddenly felt as though things didn't add up. His hair was a bold shade of bright blonde, layered down past his shoulders--it reminded her slightly of Ron's brother Bill's hair. The contrast of blonde over sun-darkened cheeks and forehead was brilliant.
Hermione realized abruptly that she was staring. She averted her eyes in embarrassment as the man noticed her and quirked an eyebrow with that same ironic smirk.
The false smile seemed to hold more venom than Malfoy had ever been capable of; she shifted in her seat, feeling slightly ashamed.
His tongue darted sensuously over his white teeth, and his gaze narrowed to the now-standing Headmaster.
"Oh my, I suppose I've arrived a bit late, then?" the mysterious character intoned in witty sarcasm. "Or perhaps . . . a bit early?"
A few of the professors offered confused looks to each other; they whispered in hisses behind their hands and gave worried looks to their superior.
"Am I even in the right place?" that smooth, cold tone was laced with faint annoyance at the lengthened pause.
Dumbledore snapped out of his ponderous trance and immediately replied:
"Ishtar. Malik Ishtar, I presume?"
The blonde man smiled mockingly.
"Why yes, you are correct in assuming so." He gave a low bow, but it held none of the respect it should have.
The headmaster watched him for a moment.
"I had also assumed that a Miss Isis Ishtar would be joining us as well . . . ?"
"Oh, you're not quite as safe in assuming that." He gestured lazily behind him. "My sister's on her honeymoon . . . she won't be here for another couple of days."
His accent was peculiar, and not entirely European despite his vibrantly blonde mane of hair. Hermione struggled to put a name on it, noting with disappointment that the particular stressing of consonants was unfamiliar and quite baffling to her memory.
"However," he gave a similar lazy gesture with his hand to the onlooking crowd. Gold rings and bracelets glimmered with every movement "I'm becoming quite embarrassed up in front of everyone at the moment. Perhaps we may talk another time?"
"Yes, yes of course."
The irritable caretaker Argus Filch stepped forward to escort the man away from the Great Hall before he could protest. He glared slightly as the older and obviously unkempt man took hold of his elbow to steer him away, and pulled his arm from the man's hold.
After he turned around, Malik Ishtar gave the Headmaster a look over his shoulder.
Or more specifically, a man sitting next to the headmaster, who's odd hairstyle Hermione had suprisingly overlooked before. She didn't know how she could have done it . . . but before she could think any further about the odd man with the incredible violet eyes and deep scowl across his features, the blonde man spoke.
"Tell you're pretty litttle Hikari I've arrived."
When he finally walked completely out of the Great Hall, tension seemed to lift from the crowd like a lint-made blanket in the wind. Conversations turned a bit more distracted and wary.
Predictably, Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other with a look that promised each other answers.
------
Malik stared out the window, assured masks dropped.
He was shown to a luxurious room with a cozy four-poster bed in deep red and cream shades. The entire place screamed 'English', with it's western style mahogany bedposts, dressers, and desk, all matching.
But with the candles out, and the blue hue of full moonlight shedding it's eirie light over the room, it was nearly comforting.
Sighing and allowing his eyes to drop, he situated himself near the window sill. Millions of prayers echoed in the voice of his late father, through his head and on the tip of his toungue. But a particular sorrow overtook him.
His voice was soft in the evening air.
"May Ra rise to fit the skies, may Ra set himself to calm our hearts for the evening. May the world exist in your good favor. You know I am a faithful servant . . . but I ask of only one thing." His eyes shone glossy and vulnerable; a rare occurrence for the likes of Malik the Trickster, Malik the Executioner, Malik the Dark Puppetmaster.
"Please return Ryou Bakura to us . . . to me."
He gritted his teeth to the darkness, feeling a sudden surge of anger.
"I know he's alive, we are connected in a way that even I cannot understand- -I know he is close, I know he is wandering and confused and hopeless . . . "
In a deeply wrung silence, the stillness was incomprehensible. The scarcity of silver moonlight, filtered haphazardly through white silk curtains illuminated his face to the shadows and lost figures wandering with lonesome hovering around the darkest places. Somehow, seeing their presence through OtherSight built to perfection behind the stone cloister walls of his childhood, caused his heart to feel all the more lonesome.
". . . I know . . . that I don't really know him, but . . . "
A fleeting thought crept up upon him, and left with a single tear glittering sweetly down his smooth cheek.
Tell me why it can't be true . . .
He closed his eyes gently.
------
Avery yawned, quite opposed to opening his eyes at that moment in his haze of grogginess. He had walked into Avasiah's suite in his disgruntled morning mood, blindly walking as he rubbed his eyes.
It was odd, but he had supposed before that getting rid of sleep would also get rid of his insufferable morning moods. But that would be a miracle far to good to come true.
His eyes opened blearily.
Avasiah stared, her eyes half-closed--not in sleepiness, but in a slow, constant anger. She was dressed to go out.
He looked her up and down, rather startled at what she was wearing. It was nothing like her lose-fitting robes and otherwise plain clothing that she usually harbored under his stare.
/My . . . God./
She stood watching him with that familiar distrustful glare, her thin torso form shimmering in the faint torchlight with a deep emerald sheen, and the shimmer branched and expanded at her waist, descending descending descending to a pool of glimmer that hid her toes. Enumerable sheer scarves twisted and turned over her eyes, over her face, over her neck and threaded through her fingers. Simple gold rings were entrusted to each finger, at least three to each, and bells hung mischievously at each pool, at the end of each sheer shawl.
Her curvy, dark, stenciled eyes narrowed to the sight of his waking form. They were dull and still, they chose not to soften at his confusion--not that they ever would have. Yet it seemed as though Avasiah held something in her mind a little more protected than she normally would.
"What . . . ?"
"I'm going to the school." Her tone was pure venom, no-nonsense. There was no bargaining with her in this mood "I will find my apprentice without the useless aid of those who only hinder me. Today . . . soon."
She turned and stalked out the open doorway to hide her expression.
It was a magnificent twist of feather-light fabric, waving to him hesitantly though their mistress quite pointedly chose otherwise. Bells jittered behind her. Light seemed to frame and dance through her.
She was something deadly, something beautiful, something he had never realized until that moment. He swallowed and stared after her, questioning himself.
I do not understand you, my lady. he vowed silently But I will serve you 'till the end of my days, whether or not my demise will come prematurely because of it.
Avery knew the vow would stick forever.
Elle-FaTe2x1 – Aww, you know our Ryou much too well (huggles Elle) I luffles your name for some reason! Maybe it's because what you say always makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, go duoxheero! Oh, and yes . . . Avasiah is Ryou's crazy mother.
Sakura-chan - (huggles) You're a dear =)
onlyHAUNTED – YAAY, cookie! Yeshyesh, Alucard is definitely an odd character—a bit disturbed in the head if you know what I mean o.O I was thinking more along the lines of that Alucard was immortal, and therefore so weary of living that he thought he found someone (a mass murderer) strong enough to kill him. Heehee, but to the world, it's up in arms. And no one got hurt, really, just . . . sorta inslaved . . . o.O
manga nut – LOL, me too. Bakura's just a little confused sometimes, that's all . . . woohoo! Shounen-ai it is!
ruth 4 kai – Heehee, thank you! I'll try to make smooth updates the best I can.
Psychopathic Sixth Grader – I really dunno anymore o.o In some texts, silver is lethal to vampys and wareys, and iron is lethal to elves . . . but I dunno. It DOES make things a bit more dramatic though, doesn't it? Heehee ;) Psycho . . . (glomps)
RBMIfan – You have no idea of the ego boost you just gave me . . . thank you, so-o-o-o much! I'll certainly keep the foul language at a minimum, and hopefully, others will be thankful as well. I just have to warn you that it might get a little violent, but that's it. I'm so so so honored that you think so highly of my fic I hope you keep reading! (huggles) . . . (uber huggles)
Professional writing? Heehee, I hope so =) I think that maybe when I'm just out of college and not making any money at all, but bored out of my wits, I might take a shot at writing a book . . . but who knows! That would be so incredibly cool though. Heehee, there are a variety of Alucard characters around the gaming/anime scene, and this one is probably the most similar to the Hellsing one, because that's the one that I know the best. Although, he's OOC enough to be like an OC, so I dunno. Malik, shaken, not stirred, right here for you, my dear
Windswift – Of course!!! That, and anime characters have a way with looking quite gorgeous in black leather ;) lol Yaay! I'm glad it's making more sense. At least I haven't bored too many people away with my crazy no-sense beginnings
C.M. Aeris Queen of Insanity – I suppose I'll take that as a compliment =) I do hope you understand sorta sometime soon, though. If you have any questions, e-mail me with specified questions and I'll see what I can do without revealing the better part of the plot.
crystal-chan – Heehee! Yesh for angsty writers! I'll certainly e-mail you when you'd like! Oh yes yes yes, and she's going to get a whole lot more evil in the future . . . (cackles)
authoraisarete – 'Tis a lovely song. I wish I listened to more Creed to know what it sounds like ; ; Soon soon soon, I will go as fast as I can for the next chappie! (salutes)
Tramontana Keeper – Heehee, thanks! I get crazy ideas for stories all the time . . . Yes, the shounen-ai will make it all the more twisted, and Avasiah all the more crazy—uh oh, I've said too much! Oh! Hmm, in the states, in high-school, there are more than one sports team in each sport, so they divide people according to status in grade, and skill. Varsity is always the best team in that sport, for that school, JV is under it (junior varsity), and then there are various C-squad or freshman teams under that . . . It's freakish stuff.
ds – I'm glad you enjoy it! I'm also glad the suspense is working okay . . . I'm horrid at it, mostly ;;; Hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much as the others. Oh, and just tell me if you'd like to be on the "Misery Mailing List" ;) I'll send you notices for new chapters if you'd like. If you're bored, of course. lol
wolf fullmoon – I'll try I'll try to read your stuff, but I've had next to no time to review lately ; ; But you'll probably find me around there sometime =) Thank you!
Alowl - (blinks) Wow. WOW!!! (uber huggles) You get it you get it! Everyone else was confused, but you get most of the stuff! WOO! Pockey for Alowl! You even got that I borrowed him from Hellsing. YAAY! What you're saying is quite close to what I'm planning, but there are a few little twists in between. Heehee, besides, it would be no fun if you knew all the answers (winks) I don't mind the suggestions! I'm honored that you thought so thoroughly of my idea. Tell me if you need a beta reader or something, you're a very thoughtful person!
YamiJester – Certainly! Thank you as well. Hopefully, this is soon enough. Heehee!
Kina-chan – Well, you won't have to wait too long . . . Ryou should be coming very shortly--within the next two chapters I'm planning. Thank you very much for the compliment!
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Gah, my head is spinning. Extra uber-update for all of you who have been patient despite my overall stupidity.
Updates are going to get a little harder to come by, since I have a job now, but it won't be anything like school was. I'm hooked on this story though . . . heehee.
If you like this one, I've got two other HP fics started that you might enjoy. "Darkness Hung the Moon" has a much better chance of me continuing, but who knows. Check it out if you're bored, and I'm in desperate need of feedback.
Oh yes! I have a LiveJournal now! See my author's page for more details
Erm, have nothing spectacular to say . . . only . . . that you MUST listen to Goldfrapp!!! One of my now fav bands, they're WONDERFUL musicians and she has a voice to die for
Anywho, have a splendid day! And please review =) It really does make the updates go faster . . .
giggleplex