Of Wizards and Duelists …
XO'MagickMoon'OX
A/N: Oh my god, I haven't updated in so long! Ugh, honestly, in the three months that I've been posting fanfictions, this is the longest it's taken me to update. I'm sorry! It's just … ugh, school … high school … so much homework … -sniff- … will it ever end? Nope, dun think so … but anyway … here's the next chapter! I'm sorry if the whole thing with MalikxRyouxBakura, YamixYuugi, HarryxDraco is starting to get old, but I promise there's a climax coming up soon! The next chapter, actually … it's gonna be good! But it's far from the end! Hope you're all enjoying it.
Well, anyway … read on!
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"Mr. Longbottom, what color is the brew supposed to be at this point?"
"Uh … oh … eh, a light yellow …"
"And what color is yours?"
"… Purple."
Snape rolled his eyes with a sigh of disgust and walked on as Neville tried to correct his potion … to no avail. The Potions Master came up alongside Harry's cauldron, the potion simmering inside it exactly as it was supposed to be. Harry didn't look up as Snape passed, but rather, continued working diligently, refusing to give Snape a reason to humiliate him. Snape scowled and went to sit at his desk, passing Harry a glare every now and then.
He wasn't the only one passing Harry looks. Atemu and Bakura noticed this as they went to stand before Draco Malfoy. The blonde was constantly glancing up at Harry whenever he felt that no one was watching, oblivious to the fact that there were two spirits observing him with the utmost scrutiny. What the two saw reflected in Draco's eyes whenever he looked at Harry was longing and pain and fear, all emotions perfectly understandable, what with his feelings for the raven-haired boy and the nightmare he had had a few nights ago.
Atemu then took Bakura by the wrist and led him out into the hallway where Yuugi and Ryou couldn't hear them. Not that their hosts were really paying attention to their yamis, as they were busy working on their own potions, but it was better safe than sorry. Atemu dragged Bakura through the door and down the corridor, where he then let go of the thief's captive wrist and leaned back against the wall in his trademark pose, arms folded across his chest, one ankle crossed over the other.
"What?" Bakura snapped, annoyed at being dragged out of the classroom so ungracefully.
"You know what I realized?" Atemu answered calmly.
"No …"
"You and Draco are a lot alike."
Bakura blinked, staring incredulously at the Pharaoh. " … Care to explain your reasoning?"
"Well, think about it," Atemu said, cocking his head to one side. "Draco hides his emotions like you do, bullying the one he loves. He figures the same as you: it's hopeless to even think about being with your secret love because they'll never love you back. If you ever wanted to try to win him over, there are multiple hurdles you'd have to jump, and chance of succeeding is little to none. Therefore, you hide your feelings behind a cruel and icy façade, figuring the closest thing to love that'll ever exist between you and him is hate, and that's better than nothing at all."
Bakura stared fixedly down at the floor as Atemu's observation ran through his head.
" … "
It was true; Ryou hated him. There was nothing now that Bakura could possibly do to change that. Ryou would never love him, and Bakura would rather stay connected to Ryou through undying loathing, if not through undying love. Draco was the same way.
Unbeknownst to the spirits, Draco had tried and failed to befriend Harry, and that was what had started their rivalry. It was all too true that Draco felt the only way to stay constant in Harry's life was to have him hate him. Draco wanted Harry to feel something for him, wanted some emotional intensity emanating from the raven-haired boy to himself, and knew that, considering their relationship, the only thing he'd get was loathing … and that was better than no feeling at all. At least Draco would get to see a flare of passion in those emerald eyes when the blonde taunted him. Anger, hate, annoyance, frustration … they were all at least something, however badly Draco would rather see other forms of passion in Harry's eyes.
But there was something Atemu failed to point out, something else that both Bakura and Draco felt for their respective beloved ones. In a way, Bakura noted, he and Draco did hate Ryou and Harry … but the reasons for their hate weren't as superficial as they let on. Sure, those who looked on the surface of Bakura and Ryou's relationship would believe that the tomb robber hated Ryou for his weakness, his pathetic demeanor, and that the hikari hated his yami because Bakura was so cruel to him. As for Draco and Harry, to others it would seem that the two were simply longtime rivals, too different to possibly be friends or anything more. Draco was a high-and-mighty, pureblood brat who loved to make Harry's life a living hell, and Harry was somewhat of a troublemaker, the hero of the Wizarding World. Too different to be anything but bitter enemies.
These were the façades that Bakura and Draco hid behind. If one were to destroy these masks of carved ice, they'd find the warm glow of true, undying love … albeit tainted with a certain frustration, a certain hate. Yes, they did hate their secret loves, but only because they loved them. They hated them because their love would never be returned, because their love was surely condemned to be forever unrequited. So, in a way, Atemu was wrong, and in a way, he was right.
Bakura hated Ryou …
Draco hated Harry …
But only because Bakura loved Ryou …
And because Draco loved Harry …
So all in all, Atemu's observation that Bakura and Draco were alike was pretty much accurate.
Pretty much …
"You say that to win over the ones we love, Atemu, there'd be multiple hurdles we'd have to jump. True, we do both have hurdles to jump, but my hurdles are higher than his," Bakura said solemnly, still staring down at the gray stone floor.
"How so?"
"Well, first of all, there's Malik –"
"And for Draco, his competition is Cho Chang," Atemu pointed out. Then, as an afterthought, he said, "Not only that, but Draco doesn't even know if Harry's interested in other guys. So, even if Harry didn't like Cho, there'd still be that."
Bakura then met Atemu's ruby gaze squarely. "Okay, well … at least Draco has a body. Both Draco and Harry are human. We're spirits, Atemu. Ryou and Yuugi are human. The two aren't meant to be together; it's just too difficult. We don't exist on the physical plane, Atemu. The only reason we can be seen by our hosts is because of just that … they're our hosts. They share a connection with us that no one else does, but that connection was, and is never meant to be, a romantic one. Fate is against us, Atemu."
"But …" The Pharaoh's calm demeanor cracked a little, and worry bled through. He was not ready to accept this. He would never so easily give up his feelings for Yuugi or his struggle for the boy's love. Okay, so maybe he wasn't exactly struggling per se, but he would never give up hope that he and Yuugi could be together.
But apparently Bakura had given up on he and Ryou, and the king felt this pessimism beginning to weigh down his own heart. After all, even though Yuugi was available, he was still Atemu's host, as the thief had pointed out. And, as he had also mentioned once before, if Ryou and Yuugi found out about their yamis' feelings and didn't return them, then everything would be all the more awkward, and such a confession of love might distance the hikaris and yamis, which was the last thing either of the spirits wanted.
But – there was that golden-winged glimmer of hope again – what if, their hosts did return their feelings? Well, so maybe Ryou was already in love with someone else, but what if Yuugi returned Atemu's feelings, the Pharaoh wondered. What if Yuugi did love him? He wouldn't need a body; Yuugi's love would be enough.
Wouldn't it?
"You make it sound like we can't have nonphysical relationships with the boys," Atemu said, voicing his thoughts. "If, say, both Yuugi and I loved each other, what need for a body would there be?"
Bakura sighed wearily. "Atemu, get real. A good, loving relationship can't exist solely on words and feelings; you need actions, you need to express yourself through kisses and touches and … Well, you get the point. Unfulfilled desires leads to emotional exhaustion and an ultimately doomed relationship."
It was Atemu's turn to sigh as he stared down at the floor. He knew that Bakura was telling the truth, sad as it was. A relationship between a spirit and a human could never last long, and its end would be bitter. If he were ever to have a romantic relationship with Yuugi, he wouldn't want it to end.
"So, the point is, I have one hurdle higher than Draco, and that makes all the difference." Despite his calm and matter-of-fact tone, Bakura was beginning to feel a flame of contempt towards the aforementioned blonde Slytherin flare in his gut. He couldn't explain the sudden sensation exactly, but he was sure it had something to do with Atemu relating Draco's situation with his own, and maybe – just maybe – this feeling of contempt was spurred from … jealousy?
Bakura turned his piercing, brown eyes on the Potions room door, imagining the blonde on the other side that was so close to his love, when really it was like they were miles away. It was the same for Bakura. So close to Ryou, yet really so far away. He could feel the hopelessness that Draco was surely feeling, the love and the longing. Atemu was right … he and Draco were a lot alike. Although their obstacles may have been different, their emotions were just the same. But this revelation didn't douse the flame of contempt he felt, but rather, fed it, making it burn and grow with more passion, more jealousy. He wanted to storm right in their and tell the longtime enemies to kiss and make up … literally. Well, maybe not in that order, but …
Anyway, Bakura was frustrated. He wanted Draco to just admit his feelings, he wanted Draco to have Harry like he wanted to have Ryou. He felt like … he felt like Draco was suffering when he didn't have to, and this added anger to Bakura's feelings of envy and hatred.
Then the class filed out, and Bakura joined Atemu against the wall to avoid being run through by the students.
The Gryffindors walked through the doors, looking somber as they usually did when leaving Potions, although Harry's mood wasn't as sour as it would have been had Snape harassed him. Actually, Harry was quite proud of himself for brewing the potion perfectly and handing it in at the end of class, shimmering in the glass vile as he placed it on Snape's desk, smiling at the man's utter astonishment and horror. He grinned at the memory.
Then the Slytherins came out behind the others, one knot of students noticeably quieter than usual. At the center of that knot was the quietest of them all: a certain silver-eyed, platinum-blonde. Around him stood Pansy and Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle, and the other usual groupies. An intense aura of loathing surrounded all but one. It would have made their day to see Snape yell at Harry as was customary. They were like children whose parents had taken away their most beloved candy. This made them all the more snappier and eager to get at the Golden Boy.
"So how does it feel, Potter, to finally brew a potion right for once in your life?" Pansy jibed at the Gryffindor.
Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ryou, and Yuugi stopped in their tracks and turned simultaneously to face the Slytherin group, three of them already itching to grab their wands and two prepared to spout the first jinxes that came to mind. Like their serpentine peers, Snape's inability to rebuke Harry in class had thrown off their emotions, and now that their hatred and anger hadn't been taken out on the vile Potions Master, they had extra to spare for the Slytherins.
"Probably the same way it feels to finally get that breast-enlarging spell right, eh Parkinson?" Hermione sneered.
Pansy turned red with fury, baring her fangs at the bushy-haired girl. "Heh, yeah right, Granger. I'm not the one who needs it," Pansy retorted, glaring pointedly at Hermione.
Ron held onto Hermione's arm to keep her from pouncing on the Slytherin vixen, who looked just as about ready to rip Hermione apart with her manicured nails … or claws, rather, as Hermione looked about ready to sock Pansy in her stupid, pug-nose.
Atemu and Bakura watched as the two groups of students continued their battle of wit. All throughout the beginning, Draco had been particularly quiet, being uncharacteristically reserved. Perhaps he wasn't as upset about their recent Potions class as his friends were. After his nightmare, he wasn't really up for seeing Harry in any sort of distress, and being humiliated by Snape would definitely go under that category. But then, after the first few insults had been exchanged, he had jumped into the spat, pushing through his circle of friends to stand before the Gryffindors. It was only natural that he be directly before Harry, being that they were the archrivals. They began to go at it, Harry becoming increasingly angry at Draco's taunts and mocks, playing right into the Slytherin's hands. It was his aim to get Harry all flustered and furious. Not only did it go right along with Draco's well-sculpted façade, but the raven-haired boy was just so adorable when he was all worked up. Maybe if Draco was lucky, Harry would go to hit him or wrestle with him, being the bloody Gryffindor that he was, and Draco would be able revel in his touch. Yeah, it was twisted, but after lusting after the boy he loved for the past few years, it was the only way he knew to get to feel Harry's touch and to get to touch him in return, though maybe not as intimately or sensually as Draco would have preferred. The physical pain that went along with it would just have to be endured, all for the ultimate fulfillment of Draco's desires.
Little did Draco know, he wouldn't have to wait for a scuffle with Harry to get to touch him. Bakura, still watching the episode before him, was growing increasingly angered at the blonde. After Atemu's revelation, he saw way too much of himself in Draco to possibly allow the boy to torture himself as he was. He was continuing to hide behind his mask, continuing to stand right before the boy he loved and just let it all pass him by. He could lean forward right now and just kiss Harry if he wanted, he was so close. Okay, so that would be a bit bold and stupid, to say the least, but it didn't change the fact that he could. Blinded by his jealousy and budding frustration, Bakura silently slipped into the Ring.
Yadonushi, retreat to your mind chamber, he ordered Ryou.
What? Why?
Just do it!
Bakura's demanding, harsh tone made Ryou flinch. It had been so long since Bakura had actually yelled at him like that … Ryou felt his stomach flutter, from fear and nervousness, no doubt. He complied and slipped into his soul room, immediately feeling isolated from everyone, even Bakura. He knew that this would be like all the other times when Bakura had possessed him and Ryou had returned to his body with no clue as to what his yami had been up to. It was always when Bakura didn't want his host to know about his doings that he told him to sit in his mind chamber, where Bakura would cut off their mind-link and leave his yadonushi in obliviousness.
The Ring was glowing, but no one seemed to take notice except Yuugi; everyone else was too caught up in the showdown. Ryou gained a bare inch in height, his warm eyes growing cold, his skin becoming less creamy-looking and more icy, his expression immediately creasing into a scowl.
"Bakura?" Yuugi breathed.
The thief didn't answer. He stepped around Harry, an audacious grace about his stride, and met Draco's bemused eyes briefly, fully aware of everyone else's equally perplexed gazes on him, and grabbed the blonde's shoulder. Then he quickly stepped to the side and jerked the Slytherin forward, straight into Harry. Everyone gasped, and Draco could barely get "What the –" out of his mouth before he crashed into the raven-haired boy. He reached up to try and break the collision, but only succeeded in unintentionally groping Harry's chest, well-toned from years of Quidditch and heroics. Draco shivered at the feel of the other boy's muscled, albeit clothed, upper body beneath his hands and was vaguely aware of he and Harry crashing to the stone floor of the dungeons.
Everyone was silent, the air braced with confusion and horror. No one moved, or even dared to breath, as the situation was assessed by all of those around: both Draco and Harry's groups (minus Ryou), Atemu and Bakura, various Gryffindors and Slytherins that had stuck around after class to watch the spat, and some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who had arrived early for their Potions class.
Finally, after Draco's head had stopped spinning and the starbursts brought on from hitting the floor had cleared from Harry's vision, they realized what had happened. Draco was lying on top of Harry in the middle of the dungeon corridor, his hands braced against Harry's chest. Harry immediately turned bright red, and all of the blood drained from Draco's face as he stared down at the boy beneath him. Silver met emerald, both sets of eyes flashing with too many emotions to possibly pick out just one and name it.
Malfoy really does have beautiful eyes … screw his eyes, Malfoy himself is beautiful – wait … WHAT? Harry thought and promptly turned a darker shade of scarlet at his own absentminded musings. Oh, this is not good … although, it is kind of nice – NO! No, no, no! Stop it!
His heart hammering, Harry went to push Draco off of him. The blonde didn't hesitate to jump up, the blood suddenly returning to his face with a frightening intensity, gracing his pale cheeks with a rare blush. He immediately turned to Bakura, who was still standing to the side, watching everything unfold. The thief smirked.
As Harry scrambled to his feet and his friends went to make sure he was all right, Draco yelled at the white-haired boy, "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"
Bakura then scowled, grabbing the collar of Draco's robes and dragging him some ways down the corridor, out of earshot of everyone else. After glimpsing the look on 'Ryou's' face, no one dared to follow.
Down the corridor, Bakura angrily pinned Draco to the wall, snarling at the frightened blonde.
"You are so stupid!" Bakura hissed.
Draco, trying to retain his pride and usual haughty air, snapped, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You … You can have that boy if you want! But you just sit around and do nothing! If you love him, you should fight for him!" Bakura said in the same hushed, deadly tone.
"What are you –" Draco froze mid-sentence as what 'Ryou' was saying finally started to register with him. He blanched. How had this boy known what he felt for Harry? If a near-complete stranger knew about his feelings, who else knew? More to the point, what the hell did 'Ryou' know about the whole situation? All of these thoughts rushed around Draco's mind in a steady river of worry and nausea.
But everything was wiped from his mind as he noticed that the fists clenched around his collar were trembling. He met the thief's eyes and saw tears dwelling at the corners.
Looking Draco straight in the face, Bakura could see the blonde's façade as clearly as if he were wearing an actual mask. It so mirrored his own that it, quite frankly, scared Bakura … and Bakura didn't scare easily. He now wanted so badly to just yell at himself, to bash his head into a wall over and over again, to scream and cry and gather Ryou in his arms and just hold him and never let him go. The fact that the latter wasn't possible just encouraged his urge to bash his head into a wall. He felt so stupid, just as he had accused Draco of being. They were both suffering from the same illness, but Draco's was a curable case, and Bakura's was terminal. Draco just refused to take the medicine. That's why he was stupid. Bakura felt stupid because the realization of what his façade looked like, what wretched state he was in, what he was doing to himself, was starting to sink in. He had been the one to hurt Ryou, he had been the one to make the boy hate him. He had been the one to realize his true feelings too late, and now Ryou was out of his reach. Most of his own suffering was all his fault He felt stupid.
All confusion and fear aroused by 'Ryou's' sudden outburst was forgotten as the boy's words ran through Draco's mind. You can have that boy if you want ... If you love him, you should fight for him! Draco shook his head.
Then, in a voice so quiet that Bakura barely heard him, he said, "It's just not that easy."
The thief chuckled dryly, releasing Draco. "Nothing ever is, is it?"
Draco smoothed out his robes, watching 'Ryou' carefully. He could tell that this wasn't the same timid, quiet boy that he knew, albeit not very well. This boy seemed to somehow understand what Draco was going through, and this boy also had an edgier attitude. Draco thought back to October when 'Yuugi' had pinned him to the wall and had almost thrown him into a Dark portal. This boy emanated the same sort of powerful air that 'Yuugi' had had then. Draco had chalked it all up to Dark wizardry, but now, after seeing 'Ryou' acting in a similar way, he was beginning to wonder whether or not his assumption had been correct. "Who are you?" the blonde wondered.
Bakura smirked half-heartedly. "Thief King Bakura of ancient Egypt."
Draco frowned. "Seriously, who are you?"
"Thief … King … Bakura … of … ancient … Egypt," Bakura said slowly, accenting each word with a hint of frustration.
"You're a nutter."
"And you're an insolent brat."
Draco scowled. "Whatever." He stomped off down the corridor towards his next class, neglecting to return to his awaiting posse who were still standing outside the Potions room. Right now, he just wanted some space to think, even if it were for the few minutes it took to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
You can have that boy if you want ... If you love him, you should fight for him!
If only it were that simple.
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As everyone sat down to lunch that afternoon. Atemu stood quietly outside the doors with an equally silent Bakura. Both seemed to have a lot on their minds. Bakura's shoulder kept twitching, which Atemu could attribute to the fact that Ryou and Yuugi were sitting at the Ravenclaw table for lunch, which meant that Ryou was with Malik, who most likely had his arm around Ryou's shoulder, hence the twitching. Atemu found himself thinking about how horrible Bakura's situation was, to not only have the one you love love someone else, but to be connected to the one you love while that person is with that someone else, and was secretly glad that Yuugi wasn't in a relationship with someone like Ryou was.
Suddenly, Bakura stiffened, and his shoulder ceased to twitch.
Koe? It was Ryou.
… Yes, Yadonushi? Bakura responded wearily.
… Nothing.
'Nothing'? Why are you disturbing me for 'nothing'? the thief snapped a bit harshly, as he was wont to do when talking with Ryou. He immediately regretted his tone when he heard Ryou's trembling reply.
I'm … I'm sorry … I just …
You just … what?
Never mind. Ryou closed the mind-link.
Yadonushi! Wait!
Silence.
… Ryou …
Bakura felt his heart sink briefly, before his chest swelled with anger. Who did Ryou think he was to close the mind-link on him? Bakura was the one who always closed it, not the other way around. Why that impudent little …
Bakura stalked off in the direction of the Ravenclaw table.
"Oh no …" Atemu groaned, following the tomb robber. He quickly caught up with the white-haired spirit. "Bakura, don't do anything stupid –"
"Don't lecture me, Atemu," the thief growled. He stopped suddenly and turned to the Pharaoh, feeling the need to explain something once and for all. "Look, I may love Ryou, but that doesn't change who I am. I am cruel, I am sarcastic, I am a power-hungry control-freak, and if I don't have control over something, I get scared, and I don't like to be scared! I will never hurt Ryou beyond repair, I will most definitely never lose him. As you pointed out earlier today, the only way I can stay constant in Ryou's life and not drift into the background is by having him hate me. That's the only emotional attachment I'll ever get. He needs to hate me, he needs to fear me … and lately I haven't been keeping up that connection and, simultaneously, my façade. If I lose both this connection and my mask, my entire world will come crashing down on me. Ryou will figure out that something's not right, we will grow distant, and I will lose him forever."
Atemu shook his head, sighing exasperatedly at Bakura's one-track mind as the thief continued on his path towards the Ravenclaw table. To Atemu it seemed that Bakura's logic was a bit topsy-turvy, but then again, Bakura did know Ryou better than the king did. But still …
Atemu then turned his sights on the Gryffindor table and spotted Harry. He was then assailed with an idea.
"Nnng," Ryou groaned, suddenly stiffening.
Malik looked inquisitively down at the white-haired teen, whose Millennium Ring was glowing ominously. The blonde scowled. "Oh no," he murmured.
Yuugi looked up at Ryou as well, and immediately shifted a few inches to the left, away from his friend. The golden light played across the bemused faces of Gabe, Jason, and Karen, all of whom were sitting across from the other three.
Finally, the Ring ceased to glow, and 'Ryou' straightened, glaring around the table. Ryou's spirit rippled into being behind Bakura, his expression one of desperate pleading.
"Koe, please …" he whispered, almost daring to touch his yami's shoulder, but knowing better.
Bakura peered over his shoulder at his yadonushi, and immediately snapped his head back around, the despair in Ryou's eyes almost making him soft. With the recent realization of his true feelings for the boy, Bakura found seeing him in sad states, states which he used to revel in causing, sent a pang through his heart.
Ryou blinked. There had been a strange expression on Bakura's face … or maybe it had just been Ryou's imagination. Yeah, that was probably it. The white-haired spirit just stood there obediently behind his yami, fearing the worst.
"What do you want?" Malik snapped irately.
"Oh, such harsh words coming from my boyfriend," Bakura whispered teasingly, wrapping his arm around Malik's neck and pulling him close.
The blonde stiffened indignantly. "Get your hands off of me!"
"Malik, what's wrong with you?" Karen wondered, staring across the table at the strange sight before her. Jason and Gabe were also puzzled. One minute, Malik was sitting contently with his arm around Ryou, and the next he was yelling at him.
Yuugi tried hopelessly to explain. "Uh, well … you see … guys, this is …" He was about to rattle off some bizarre excuse about Ryou having a split personality when suddenly his Puzzle began glowing.
Yuugi, can I?
Yami, this isn't the best time –
I know, Aibou. Don't worry; Ryou will be fine. But I need to do something.
… If you say so. All right.
Please stay in your soul room.
What? Why?
Because I need to have a private conversation with someone.
… Okay. Yuugi sounded dejected, and Atemu felt an immediate stab of guilt. He hated to close Yuugi off, but this time he had to.
Atemu took control. He stood from the table, quietly excusing himself. Bakura turned to the Pharaoh and glared at his retreating form. What the hell is he up to?
Bakura, however, didn't have time to further contemplate the matter.
"Koe, please … stop it …" Ryou was begging. He slid into Yuugi's now-empty seat and turned to Bakura, tears in his phantom eyes.
Bakura swallowed. His mask was slipping. "Ya-Yado … nushi … … Ryou …" He reached out towards the white-haired boy, at that moment wanting nothing more than to wipe away the tears he'd caused. But, when his fingers fazed through Ryou's cheek and the boy shuddered, Bakura's expression immediately hardened. He felt nothing … nothing but air. The warm, supple flesh that should have been Ryou's face was nonexistent. Bakura felt his eyes stinging.
Dammit, he mentally swore. Immediately he retreated to the Ring, and Ryou was painfully forced back into his body
Stars burst in Ryou's spinning vision as he swayed in his seat. He almost fell backwards, but Malik's strong arm snaked around his waist, holding him steady. Ryou leaned against the blonde gratefully, everything settling back into place. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and felt something warm rolling down his face. Reaching up, his fingers met tears, and the boy had a sneaking suspicion that they weren't his own.
The students began to file out of the Great Hall. Atemu had been standing at the entrance to the Great Hall ever since he'd taken over Yuugi, which totaled to about ten minutes. Over the course of those ten minutes, he'd been thinking about how he was going to approach a certain raven-haired Gryffindor with his inquiry.
The young witches and wizards exited with their respective cliques, and Harry's was one of the first. Atemu stepped forward and grasped Harry's arm, pulling him away from his friends.
"Yuugi?" Harry asked as he was led towards the wall. "What's going on?"
Hermione, Ron, Ryou, and Malik, Jason, Gabe, and Karen stopped and looked around. Ron spotted his best friend with Atemu and signaled for the others to follow. Jason, Gabe, and Karen dismissed themselves, and Malik said a brief, "See you later" before turning back to the task at hand. However, as Atemu saw the others approached, he held up a hand as a sign for them to stay away, leaving he and Harry to converse privately.
Atemu watched Harry for a moment, before saying frankly, "What do you think of Draco?"
Harry blanched. "What?" he asked. "I … I hate the bloody git, I –"
Atemu patiently raised his hand to silence the boy. Again he watched Harry in a way that made Harry feel as if he were a lab rat being observed by a scientist. It was unnerving. "Really?" Atemu grinned.
"Yes, really." Harry was beginning to grow flustered. "Why are you asking?" he wondered. Then, as an afterthought, he asked, "Did Malfoy say anything to you?"
"Is that a hopeful chord I hear?" Atemu's grin widened.
"Yuugi!" Harry cried.
The Pharaoh closed his eyes, smirking. "No."
Emerald orbs narrowed suspiciously. "Atemu?"
"Bingo."
"What are you doing? Why are you asking me questions about Malfoy?"
"I'm just … curious." The reason as to why Atemu was helping the blonde did, indeed, elude him, but he felt it had to be done. Perhaps it was because he, like Bakura, could relate to the boy, albeit not as well as the tomb robber could, and he sympathized with the Slytherin. It may have seemed hard to sympathize with someone as cold-hearted as Draco, but the Pharaoh knew the boy to wear his façade of ice just as Bakura did, and saw through it with ease.
Harry, contrary to Atemu's cool demeanor, was beginning to panic. His heart, at the mere mention of Draco, began to quicken, and he felt an uncomfortable heat crawl beneath his flesh, indicating a telltale blush. Why was this happening? Surely there was something wrong with him; maybe he was catching a cold. That might explain his flushed skin and somewhat strained breathing.
Sensitive spirit that he was, Atemu picked up on these fine details, and chuckled.
Harry, annoyed at Atemu's apparent amusement, scowled. "What's so funny?"
Atemu sighed with a smile, before answering, "Life … love … time … people in general."
The raven-haired Gryffindor, supremely baffled by this blunt answer, merely shook his head and darted away towards his awaiting friends. When they questioned him on 'Yuugi's' inquiry, he just remained silent.
All throughout Divination, as Trelawney continued to predict his impending doom, Harry let his mind wander. It wandered in particular over to his recent discussion (if it could be called that) with Atemu.
Life …
Love …
Time …
People in general …
What the hell did all of that mean? Well, it obviously meant something to Atemu, but it meant nothing to Harry. Well, almost nothing …
Life. Life was a very broad, a very interesting topic. Fate, Destiny … they were both threads that contributed to the great web that was Life. Harry was certain that it was Fate that he, Ron, and Hermione had met and become friends, just as he was certain that it was Fate that he and Draco had become enemies. But Destiny, that was a different story. Could Destiny perhaps have something else in store for them? Was Destiny maybe rewriting the scripts that Fate had created? Was it turning the tables, twisting what seemed to be so normal, so natural, into something different yet equally as normal and natural, just not seemingly so?
Harry shook his head. This was all very confusing.
Love. Oh, he didn't even want to start. The closest he'd ever come to loving, romantically at least, was Cho Chang. But she was more interested in Malik, Harry noted bitterly. But now, now he was puzzled. First at the Quidditch game against Slytherin, then earlier that morning when 'Ryou' had pushed Draco into him … Harry was beginning to feel things that he knew he shouldn't be feeling. Should he? No! It was wrong, on so many levels! One, he and Draco were enemies. Two, they were both guys! That couldn't be normal, for two guys, who weren't even friends in the first place, to have feelings for each other. Ah, which led to a third point: even if Harry did … have feelings for Draco, Draco wouldn't return them. How would he? How could he? Draco Malfoy, the Ice Prince of Slytherin, the most cold-hearted, arrogant bastard … how could he love? Could he even feel? And how could anyone love him in return, feel anything for him? His enemy, no less!
Harry groaned, putting his head in his hands. This … was … so … wrong.
Ron nudged Harry's leg under the table with his foot. "You all right, mate?" he whispered.
Harry looked up, taking a deep breath. He nodded yes. A total lie.
Time. He and Draco had been enemies for as long as he could remember. How had it all started? Oh, Harry remembered … he'd met Draco in the robe shop and had disliked him immediately. He seemed snide, arrogant, selfish, and cold, Harry's complete polar opposite. How could they ever expect to get along? Opposites repelled each other, didn't they?
Ah no, wait … opposites attracted.
Harry's fist clenched. Damn. This wasn't right … it wasn't normal, even for a wizard. Harry's gaze wandered over to where Ryou and Yuugi sat, and his first thought was, This is all Ryou and Malik's fault, the bloody poufs. If it weren't for them, then I wouldn't even be thinking like this; they've … they've gotten weird ideas in my head.
No, Harry decided, he couldn't blame them; that wasn't fair. First of all, who was he to blame two people for loving each other, and if not loving, then at least liking a lot? Second of all, he felt that these seemingly newfound emotions ran deeper than just this year. They had silent, steady roots stemming back all the way to the day he'd met Draco, that day in the shop. These feelings had been laying dormant inside Harry's heart since that day, masked by superficial dislike and discomfort. And now, now … now things were becoming confusing.
"Harry?"
Harry's head snapped up to look at the speaker, Ron, who was standing with his bag shouldered, waiting for his best friend. "Come on."
"Whoa, is class over?" Harry scanned the room to see his classmates packing up and leaving, answering his question.
Ron laughed. "I know, it's hard not to daydream in this class. If it hadn't been for Neville knocking over that table, I would've been lost in my own fantasies until God-knows-when."
Neville had knocked over a table? Wow, Harry had definitely been out of it.
---
The week crawled by, the wind fiercely beating at the castle walls, knocking down unsuspecting students if they dared venture outside. The sky was heavy with threats of snowfall, and the air was crisp with winter. Friday evening came, and the Gryffindors found themselves huddled in the common room around Yuugi and Malik.
"Ready, Yuugi? You promised me a rematch," Malik said as he shuffled his deck.
"And I'll give you one." Yuugi smiled.
"No Pharaoh involved?"
"No Pharaoh involved," the smaller boy promised.
"Good." Malik smiled, adjusting his gold adornments and purple vest, free from his school robes and customary uniform. Yuugi, too, was back in his old attire, blue outfit, straps, buckles, chains and all. Ryou was more humbly dressed, in his oversized gray sweatshirt and snug blue jeans, curled in an armchair, overseeing the match played before him on the floor. Both the Ring and the Puzzle glinted in the firelight around their respective owner's necks.
"So this is Duel Monsters?" Ron wondered aloud as Yuugi and Malik took their shuffled decks and lay them down.
"Yup," Yuugi chirped, drawing his cards. Malik did the same.
"How do you play?" Neville asked.
"Oh, well … it's a bit complicated …" Malik answered dismissively, studying his hand. He frowned.
"Bad hand?" Yuugi said with a short laugh.
Malik huffed. "Don't think it'll stop me, though."
The game began.
Bakura and Atemu stood by the hearth, watching from a distance. The rapt attention of the other students amused them; they had never met anyone who hadn't heard of Duel Monsters, and here were thirty or forty people who hadn't even seen a Duel Monsters card in their life.
The minutes rolled by, and soon everyone had taken sides, either with Malik or with Yuugi. Yuugi's cheer squad rejoiced every time he sent Malik's monster to the Graveyard, or foiled one of his attempts to use a Magic or Trap Card. Malik's group did the same. Things got pretty exciting. Ryou just sat smiling at his boyfriend from his chair, watching calmly and contently.
That is, until Bakura came over to him.
Bakura could feel Ryou's genuine happiness and peace, and when he would peek through the mind-link, all of his thoughts would be on Malik. It was sickening, and not in the disgusting sense, but in the sense that it made Bakura's heart ache. Sliding his mask on, he slipped onto the armrest of the chair, his eyes glued to the duelists on the floor. He could sense Ryou stiffen, and smirked.
Without turning to look at his lighter half, Bakura said, "Ugh, is he losing again?"
Ryou frowned. "He's not losing, Koe. Remember, I told you that you can't tell in the middle of a game." No one seemed to notice that Ryou was talking to himself; they were all too engrossed in the match.
Bakura pulled a disgusted face as Malik made another move. "Oh Ra, tell him his technique is horrible."
"What?" Ryou was aghast at the notion. "No!"
"Fine." Bakura turned to the white-haired boy, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "Then I'll do it."
"Ko –" Ryou couldn't get the word out of his mouth before the Ring was glowing and he felt his senses dimming. His heart was pounding, a terrible leaden dread weighing down on his shoulders. Then he was inside the Ring, and Bakura was in his body. Ryou slipped out of the Item, and his phantom form materialized next to his yami.
"Koe, don't do this!" Ryou pleaded.
Bakura just grinned wickedly, standing from the chair, eyes trained on Malik.
"Please!" Ryou felt his eyes brim with unbidden tears, but he was so used to them that he hardly noticed.
Bakura barely heard his yadonushi, too consumed with an inexplicable feeling of power. He'd not felt Ryou so worked up for a long time, and quite frankly, he missed it. He missed feeling all of that emotion aimed towards him, whatever emotion it may be. It was passionate, albeit a passionate hatred and fear, but passionate nonetheless, and Bakura felt his flesh crawl with fever, involuntarily shuddering.
Before he could think twice, Bakura stepped forward, his shadow falling across the game. Yuugi and Malik looked up, immediately sensing the dark presence of the tomb robber. They scowled. The others simple looked bewildered and a bit frightened at the eerie smirk on 'Ryou's' face.
Bakura knelt down, leaning towards Malik. The Egyptian bristled, instinctively shying away, although he didn't go far enough, for Bakura still came nearly nose to nose with Malik as he said venomously, "Your technique is horrible."
Malik's jaw dropped as he prepared to retort, his eyes flashing with anger. But no words came out. He quickly shut his mouth, deciding instead to go for a physical rejoinder. He shoved Bakura, and the thief fell back with an indignant yelp.
As he quickly sat back up, Bakura could hear Atemu's amused laughter in the background. He scowled in the direction of the hearth before turning again on the blonde, dragging him up by his collar and throwing him into the nearby table. Malik crashed into it with a cry and collapsed violently to the floor. A sharp pain spread through the small of his back where it had connected with the wood, and pain also brewed in the back of his head, which had knocked against the tabletop as he'd fallen.
Ryou gasped, his tears falling freely, as he ran to the only one he could: Atemu. The Pharaoh started as the frightened and hurt spirit ran into his arms, but then embraced him warmly, stroking his head comfortingly. Bakura had taken it too far.
"You son of a bitch," Malik swore under his breath as he stood shakily, rubbing the back of his head.
"Go to hell," Bakura spat, again advancing on the blonde.
The other students were still, paralyzed by shock. Ryou and Malik's relationship was known by almost everyone in Gryffindor, and to see them fighting like this was beyond confusing and startling. Harry, Ron, and Hermione picked up on what was going on, and turned to Yuugi to see what he would do. The small boy, however, just watched the altercation unfold, unable to stop it.
As Bakura went to throw a punch at Malik's head, Malik ducked away and scurried over to where the students were, immediately bracing himself for the inevitable brawl. Bakura snarled and jumped towards the blonde.
"Yami, stop him!" Ryou pleaded.
Atemu nodded and stepped away from the hearth. He leapt in front of Bakura, and had Bakura not seen the Pharaoh, he would have run right through him. The thief stopped in his tracks, eyes flashing.
"What do you want?" he hissed.
"Stop this!" Atemu commanded, his voice automatically taking on its regal, condescending tone, which Bakura didn't appreciate one bit. Nevertheless, the Pharaoh continued. "Look at what you're doing! Look at Ryou!" he said quietly, but forcefully.
Bakura let out an agitated breath, but obeyed, turning his sights on the spirit cowering in the glow of the hearth, a glow which passed right through his phantom body without casting shadows anywhere indicating his presence.
The thief was sure he felt his heart stop beating.
Ryou was trembling from head to toe, tears cascading down his cheeks in crystal streaks of fear and pain. He had the most pitiful demeanor, like a puppy abused by its owner, wondering what in the world it had done to deserve such treatment. Hurt, frightened, and Bakura was sure there was anger and defiance, too, but it didn't matter.
Bakura's eyebrows knit into a pained frown as he struggled to hold back his own tears. What was with him lately, crying as much as he did? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.
"Fuck," he swore under his breath. He turned back to Malik, who stood watching Bakura curiously, as did the rest of the common room. "Watch yourself, tomb keeper, or you'll be meeting Anubis sooner than you think," Bakura threatened venomously, before melting back into the Ring. The Item glowed brightly, and Ryou felt himself being pulled back into his body.
Malik hurried over to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around Ryou before the boy's knees gave way. Ryou gasped, drawing heavy breaths as he righted himself, gratefully accepting the warm embrace. Malik stroked Ryou's head, pressing the white-haired teen against him, and whispered in his ear, "Are you okay?"
Ryou nodded, although he still trembled.
"Oy! What the bloody hell is going on here?" Fred snapped, shaken by what he'd just seen. "You're all off your rockers!"
"Or maybe they're Dark wizards," someone else said. There were a few frightened murmurs of agreement throughout the room.
Malik and Ryou turned to the other students, all of whom were staring incredulously at them. Yuugi looked around as well, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione traded nervous glances.
"Way to go, Bakura!" Yuugi cried expaseratedly, seemingly at no one.
"Well, figure we may as well tell them," Harry muttered. Yuugi sighed resignedly, nodding.
"Everyone get comfortable!" Ron announced sarcastically. "This is a long story."
Meanwhile, in the Ring, Bakura was trashing about his mind chamber, beating angrily at anything he could find, which included a wooden chest of scrolls and some sort of altar set in the back of the room. The chest was currently overturned, its contents askew across the floor, some torn in half.
Finally, his energy spent, Bakura sat down in the middle of the chamber. He didn't know what to do; he was so lost. He didn't want to hurt Ryou, but at the same time he couldn't help it. Not only was it nearly habit at this point in time, but it held up his façade, and it was the only way he knew to stay emotionally tied to his hikari. If Ryou didn't hate him, didn't fear him, what would he feel for Bakura? Nothing, that's what, and Bakura wouldn't have that.
But this time, this time he hadn't consciously planned on causing Ryou any pain. He'd simply been drugged, drugged on his own jealousy and confusion and longing. If Atemu hadn't stopped him, he was almost certain he would've killed Malik. He couldn't take it. He was like a taut rubberband waiting to snap, which he almost did. He had never been in love, and now that he was, it was unrequited. What was worse was that he was around Ryou most of the time, sometimes in his mind, sometimes even in his body, and when he wasn't, he was still connected to the boy through their mind-link. Even when he closed it off, he could still feel that tiny pull, that tiny thread that held their souls together. It was eating him up from the inside out, this longing, this close, connected proximity, and yet this denial of his desires.
Maybe he would never be able to have Ryou, no matter how much he loved him, no matter how much he wanted to hold him and touch him and kiss him. Not only would Ryou never allow it, but it was physically impossible. The barriers just kept piling up, Bakura noted. It was the wrong time, the wrong place, and the wrong person. It could never be.
And with that, Bakura put his head in his hands and wept, making sure the mind-link was sufficiently closed.
Back in the common room, Yuugi was finishing up his explanation.
"And so … yeah …" he said uncertainly, and then awaited the reaction of the students.
Silence.
Thirty-some pairs of eyes stared at him, some darting to Ryou and Malik, others to Harry and Ron and Hermione, wondering whether or not to believe this seemingly implausible story. Finally, after what seemed to be endless moments of utter stillness, Fred again spoke up.
"So, you have these ancient Egyptian ghosts living inside your necklaces?" he said frankly.
"Well, they're spirits, and these aren't just … necklaces," Yuugi said, motioning towards his Puzzle. "They're sort of like magickal amulets, I guess. They were crafted by the pharaoh that lives in the Puzzle," Yuugi grinned with pride and some other unknown emotion, "and they locked away the secrets of the Shadow Games, saving Egypt from the evil of the Shadow Realm."
"Oh." Fred nodded.
"And a thief lives in Ryou's Ring?" Angelina wondered.
Ryou looked suddenly sheepish as he nodded.
"And he was the one that went berserk on Malik?"
Again Ryou nodded, bowing his head so that his bangs hid his eyes.
"Wow, well … this certainly clear up a lot," Neville inputted. "And you're the Pharaoh's tomb keeper, Malik?"
"Well," Malik answered, "my whole family was entrusted to guard the Pharaoh's – Yuugi's yami's – tomb. We've been doing it for many years, passing down the 'pharaoh's secret' from generation to generation until we could finally deliver it to him."
"Oh, what's the secret?" Ginny wondered excitedly.
Malik seemed taken aback. "Well … uh … it's … it's written in Egyptian … on my back," he explained vaguely.
"Can we see?" Ginny persisted.
"You won't be able to understand it –"
"Please?"
Others in the room murmured their agreement. Malik sighed and nodded grudgingly. He pulled his vest over his head, ignoring the soft, delighted squeals from the girls, and turned his back to Ginny, since she had been the one to ask. She gazed in awe at the cryptic inscriptions and hieroglyphs, even daring to reach out and run her fingertips across the sound surface of Malik's back, tracing the alien markings. He jumped immediately at the unexpected touch, and she recoiled her hand, apologizing.
"Well?" He turned to her. "You saw it."
"They're beautiful," she said. "How'd you get them?"
Malik winced, as if the memory had stung him. Ryou came to his side and put his arms around Malik's waist comfortingly. The blonde smiled softly and replied, "They were tattooed by my family – my father and a few others – … traditional style."
"'Traditional style'?" someone echoed. "You mean …"
Malik nodded, and more murmurs rang out in the room, this time awed and horrified.
Hoping to officially end the conversation, Malik slipped his shirt back on and bid everyone goodnight. To his friend, he added, "Well Yuugi, I think we need another rematch." He motioned to their unfinished game.
Yuugi laughed and nodded. "We'll finish a game sooner or later."
Malik nodded, laughing also, and collected his cards. He quickly pulled Ryou into a chaste kiss, at which a few girls giggled delightedly or sighed enviously, before departing to his House.
Yuugi picked up his cards, and peace seemed to settle back into the common room. Most students went off the bed, as it was eleven o'clock. By quarter after, only Harry, Ron, Hermione, Yuugi, Ryou, Fred, George, Ginny, Neville, Lee, and a few others remained.
George turned to his twin. "Hey Fred," he said loudly, "how about a game of Wizard's Truth or Dare?"
His double grinned. "Yes, sounds like fun."
Harry and Ron had perked up from their game of chess, and Hermione rolled her eyes as she sat doing her homework. Lee, Ginny, and Neville were also grinning, gathering around the twins. Harry and Ron did the same.
"What's 'Wizard's Truth or Dare'?" Ryou asked Hermione.
"It's the most idiotic game there is, where everyone weasels out their friends' darkest and sometimes most embarrassing secrets, or dares them to do moronic deeds, such as chugging a gallon of Butterbeer or spelling their faces to look like checker boards," Hermione explained in a condescending manner, going back to her essay.
"Want to play, Yuugi?" Ryou said to his friend.
Laughing, Yuugi nodded. "Sure."
By now, everyone was sitting in the middle of the common room either on one of the couches or in a big armchair. Fred was fingering something in his pocket. As Yuugi and Ryou joined the group, the redhead pulled out a vial filled with a thick, clear liquid.
"This," he said, "is Veritaserum, the truth inducing potion." He uncorked the vial. "Everyone has to drink some, and then the game begins." He downed a small drop and passed it to George before continuing. "Now, this Veritaserum is a little different from the normal sort, the sort the aurors use. This Veritaserum will also make you do whatever you're dared without hesitation, and you have no choice but to do it, just the same as it forces you to tell the truth. Funny thing is, sometimes people themselves don't even know the truth until this handy little potion brings it out of 'em. It's fun to see their faces after they blurt something they didn't even consciously know." He smiled roguishly. "It'll last for a little more than an hour before it wears off."
The vial passed from George to Neville to Ginny to Ryou to Yuugi to Harry to Ron to Lee and back to Fred, who pocketed the now-empty flask.
"Okay George, you first," Fred said. "Truth or dare."
"What do you think? Dare!" George answered heartily.
"All right. I dare you to …" Fred thought for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "… to … sneak into the kitchens and bring us each back a piece of apple pie!"
Immediately, George jumped to his feet against his will, the air laced with an underlying energy. "You've got to be kidding me!" George cried aghast, although the grin on his face betrayed his excitement. "McGonagall patrols down that way. I'll be caught for sure!"
"All the more fun for us!" Fred laughed. "And hurry back. I have a vicious craving for apple pie!"
George slipped out of the portrait hole and into the dark corridors of the school, only his 'lumos' spell and senses to guide him.
"Neville," Fred said. "You're next. Seeing so George was supposed to be the one to ask you, we'll just have to get back to you. Ask Ginny."
Neville visibly relaxed and turned to the redhead at his left. "Ginny, truth or dare."
The game proceeded for a few rounds, everyone getting a good laugh every now and then. George had returned a half-hour after his departure, eight slices of apple pie levitating behind him. Now it was quarter after midnight, and the game was beginning to wind down. Atemu and Bakura had slipped out a while ago, taking to strolling down the corridors towards the courtyard, a much-loved haunt of theirs. Both had blocked their mind-links, seeking privacy to talk about the usual: life and love and other such philosophies.
"All right Yuugi, truth or dare," Ginny asked.
Yuugi was still grinning from the last dare, which involved spelling Hermione's ink bright pink while she wasn't looking. Her entire essay had looked like a neon sign, but she had quickly fixed it before turning Lee's hair puke-green. Only she knew how to reverse it, and she refused to do so.
"Truth," Yuugi finally responded.
"Oh, daring, aren't we?" George joked.
"Okay Yuugi …" Ginny thought for a moment. Then, she said, "Who do you fancy?"
Yuugi started at the question, but before he could stop himself, "Yami" came forth from his lips. He quickly clamped his hands over his mouth, looking thoroughly startled. He didn't catch Ryou's small grin beside him. Everyone else just watched the tri-color-haired boy carefully.
After a moment of silence, Lee said, "You mean that spirit bloke who lives in your necklace?"
Yuugi rolled his amethyst eyes at the imprecise explanation and nodded, a fierce blush filling his cheeks. He gazed shyly down at his hands, thinking of how much of an understatement "fancy" was.
"Well Yuugi, it's your turn," Fred said. "Ask someone."
Yuugi looked up, grateful of the change of subject, and turned to the second youngest Weasley. "Truth or dare, Ron."
"Dare."
Yuugi grinned roguishly, and Ron suddenly felt uneasy. "I dare you to kiss Hermione … on the lips."
Hermione's head shot up, her face suddenly a bright pink. "What!" she cried.
"Yeah, what!" Ron added, although he was already being hauled to his feet by the magick of the Veritaserum and making his way towards the table where Hermione was sitting, studiously doing her homework.
She jumped up and backed into the wall beside the hearth, looking startled, and Ron looked equally horrified … although no one could mistake the look of delight underlying their shock. Yuugi covered his mouth to suppress a giggle as Ron pressed his lips against Hermione's, and in the glow of the fire they shared a chaste kiss.
It felt as if a balloon had popped then, a balloon full-to-bursting with tension and awkwardness, now deflated, all of the tension gone. Finally, everyone in the group thought.
Moments later, Ron returned to the circle, looking dazed, touching his lips gently with his hand as if the memory still lingered there. He looked over at Yuugi and smiled a smile that seemed to say "I owe you one". Hermione sat back down, her cheeks still flushed, and hunched back over her work, wearing an equally-satisfied smile.
"Ron, your turn," Yuugi reminded.
"Oh right." Ron looked around the circle. He turned to his right to where his best friend was sitting, grinning happily at what had just transpired, and said, "Harry, truth or dare."
Harry ran a hand through his mess of raven hair before answering, "Truth."
"All right mate, who do you fancy?"
Harry's mind automatically jumped to Cho, and he was entirely prepared for her name to come out of his mouth. But before he could say anything, Hermione had her wand drawn and was pointing at him, shouting, "Silencio!"
Harry promptly felt his voice fade away to silence, and he clapped his hand over his mouth in surprise just as he said the name. Although, as he felt himself mouth the name against his palm, his eyes widened in horror.
The name wasn't Cho. He was sure he'd mouthed Draco.
He looked to Hermione, who was pocketing her wand, and their eyes met. A sense of comprehension passed between them.
"What was that for, Hermione?" George asked irritably.
"Uh … I just … I think you should ask Harry a different question." She returned to her work without another word and gave off the impression of a brick wall; she wasn't saying any more.
At that moment, Atemu and Bakura fazed back into the common room. Atemu made his way over to Yuugi and stood behind him. The smaller boy looked up into Atemu's smiling face and grinned back. Then Atemu went to stand by Bakura around the hearth.
"They're still playing?" Bakura wondered.
"Apparently," Atemu replied.
"Harry, your turn," Fred said.
Harry nodded vaguely, his mind still spinning. "Uh, Ryou …"
… The air became suddenly lighter, relieved from the pressure of the truth inducing magick. The potion was wearing off …
No one seemed to notice.
"… truth or dare."
"Truth."
"Okay then." Harry chose his words carefully before continuing. "Do you love anyone, romantically speaking?"
Bakura's heart jumped as he watched Ryou.
Ryou's own heart was beating a mile a minute. He hadn't expected a question like that, but he knew that the potion would force him to answer truthfully. "Yes."
"Who?" Ginny blurted, although everyone already had a good idea of the answer.
"Uh … Malik," Ryou said, blushing slightly.
Bakura let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Even though he'd already known that, just hearing the words spoken from Ryou's mouth made everything seem all the more final … and all the more hopeless. It was like rubbing salt into an open wound, making it sting anew.
Would his torment ever end?
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Well? Review, please! -huggles- … oh, and lots of thanks to poxmaker, who inspired a few parts in this chapter. Dude, where are you? I haven't gotten an e-mail in, like, a month! -poke- … hello! Eh, anyway … TBC, as usual. Does anyone have any suggestions? I take comments, critiques, even flames, if anyone hates this fic that much.
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