To Mikol- Umm… you'll find out what happened to Quatre. And where Duo went to. Please, just be patient and let me get there. I'm really sorry about the cliffie; I didn't mean to! Please forgive me! The computer thing is fine; I might wind up volunteering at the community center come summer. I'll try to get this chapter up real soon, okay?


In the three years Songwind and Trowa had been bonded, they had become fond of each other, with a relationship not unlike that of very close siblings. They had few secrets between them, which was especially odd in Trowa's case. They shared everything: hopes, dreams, fears, worries, quarters, even their deepest, most personal thoughts.

Ever since the Quidditch match, however, Trowa had drawn in on himself, pulling away from even Songwind. He was hurting inside, she could tell, but he refused to speak with her about it, and that made her heart ache. She felt keenly that she had somehow failed him, that he didn't trust her anymore, and that maybe she was the reason he hurt.

The Whomping Willow had no TreeKin of its own, but it listened very well when Songwind found the need to talk overwhelming. High in the Willow's animate branches seemed to be the only place Songwind could find peace, though she wished desperately that she had the courage to make a friend among the students. It would be nice to talk to someone who could talk back.


Immediately upon entering the Hufflepuff common room, Quatre was mobbed by his worried housemates. They'd been fussing over him almost nonstop since he got back from the infirmary, especially the girls. He took it in stride for the most part; he was used to good-natured fussing, and it did give him time to sit down and talk with the Hufflepuffs. David in particular seemed to enjoy talking, as did a dark-eyed brunette named Tanya and Cedric Diggory, captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

Quatre still worried, because of something he'd felt when the dementors had drained him. Along with his own heartache and sorrow, he'd felt anger that bordered on rage, horrible guilt, pain, and overwhelming despair, all of which had come from outside himself. He had his suspicions about where those emotions had come from, but he needed confirmation before he could confidently announce his theory.


Heero clawed his way to semi-consciousness, not quite awake but no longer truly asleep. In this state, he could observe through Kero, although he couldn't make use of his own five senses yet.

His mind felt bruised, like the overtaxed muscle it was, and it hurt to think, but he did anyway, because thinking was important, it was his training, his defense, and his only viable course of action until he could force himself into full awareness.

:Heero, you should rest.: Kero told him softly, being mindful of the abuse his brain had taken recently. :I promise, nothing will happen while you sleep, and you'll be the better for it in the morning.:

:Kero, I can't.: A voice whispered in the back of his mind, too faint to hurt but too loud to ignore, urging him to act, to think, to plan, to do something, or he would regret it. The voice drove him out of unawareness, kept him from sleep, pushed him forward long after he knew he should sleep, because inaction was inexcusable, it was unforgivable and impossible besides.

:You will.: Kero promised him, and, despite his best efforts to resist, he sank once again beyond the bounds of consciousness into the seamless black of true sleep.


"Did you see that?" Hermione asked suddenly. "I thought I saw his eyes open for a moment."

"If they did, he closed them again," Ron said, giving Heero a quick glance. "Here, Kero, the house-elves got this together especially for you."

"We requested it specifically," Harry added as an aside to the kyree.

Kero had moved from Heero's bed to the floor next to it for her meal, and she accorded both boys a gracious nod and fondly licked the back of Hermione's hand before settling down to eat. She ate with the same grace and quiet dignity that defined all her actions, giving the impression of a noble lady at a high court feast.

Halfway through the bowl of raw, spiced meat, Kero flung her head back sharply, twisting like a ferret to place her front paws on Heero's chest. Her eyes became such an intense blue that they seemed to crackle in her narrow face.

Despite Kero's considerable weight and obvious protest, Heero sat up, rubbing his temples with the fingers of one hand. He said something in what was probably Japanese, and Kero reluctantly removed her paws and allowed him to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Once he'd accomplished that, however, she placed her head on his lap and refused to move.

"Stubborn bitch," Heero accused in English, and Hermione gasped. "Granger," He continued without looking away from Kero's face. "Potter, Weasley, thank you for seeing to Kero while I was asleep."

"It… it was no trouble at all, Heero." Hermione assured him while Harry ran off to get Madam Pomfrey. "Are you all right? Half the school's been worried about you, ever since you collapsed, and Professor Lupin said that it was possible for dementors to put someone in a coma for years, and-"

"Thank you, Hermione." Heero said softly, interrupting her with a small, genuine smile. "Thank you for caring."

"I… that is… I mean…" While Hermione blushed, stammered, stuttered, and groped for a coherent and suitable response, Madam Pomfrey arrived, moving like all the hounds of Hell and several aggressive insurance salesmen were after her.

"Mr. Yuy, you're awake, that's good. How do you feel? Headache? Dizziness? Is your stomach upset? Do you remember what happened?"

Heero gave the correct one-word response to each demand: fine, yes, no, no, yes. He accepted a potion for his mild headache and asked for quill and parchment. He needed a few things from Japan, and the sooner he got them, the better.


The first few times Malfoy and his drones made poor imitations of dementors, Wufei ignored them. The next few times, he told them calmly and reasonably to stop. After that, he found himself forced to take more direct steps.

"Malfoy, have you ever killed a man?" Wufei asked, as casually as if he'd just asked Draco Malfoy what their Charms homework was. "Have you ever held someone dear to you in your arms as they died?"

The Slytherin common room was hushed, most of the students staring at Wufei as if he were an exotic and possibly venomous reptile.

"When you live day and night knowing that you, personally, have taken the life of another human being; when you lie awake at night and replay again and again a death that you should have been able to prevent; when you carry the weight of meaningless loss of life on your conscience, then you may gloat and try to make a mockery of me. Until such time, if I see you dancing around like an idiot again, belittling something you cannot possibly understand, I will reprimand you. And I will not be as gentle as Maxwell."

Since the beating Maxwell had given Malfoy couldn't be described as gentle by any stretch of the imagination, the threat was sufficient to cow Malfoy for the time being. Wufei doubted it would last long.

His bit for the evening said, Wufei stormed to his private dormitory, closing and locking the door, and went directly to bed.


It was a nervous time to be a Gryffindor, especially during Potions, when Slytherins lost no opportunity to remind Harry of the embarrassing end to the match against Hufflepuff.

That, however, was all they talked about, rather than the utterly humiliating – for Harry – subject of dementors. Whenever it looked like the conversation might be tending in that direction, someone always hurriedly steered it somewhere else.

"Well, Wufei got hit bad by the dementors," Ron whispered over their cauldrons. "You didn't see him, but I did. I bet he's got 'em scared witless to rub his face in it."

"Probably," Harry agreed in a whisper of his own. "Even Duo can't match Wufei in fighting, and the Slytherins all know what Duo can do."

"Speaking of Duo, I wonder where he is." Ron said, glancing almost wistfully at the empty station Duo usually used. "I didn't once see him in the infirmary while we were visiting Heero."

"There's talk that he was taken away," Harry said. "Like maybe Madam Pomfrey can't handle what's wrong with him."

"I don't believe that." Hermione spoke up curtly, pointedly turning her back on the Slytherins. "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't send him past the dementors again, not after what they did to him the first time. Seized up and started shaking like a leaf, and next thing I know, he was on the ground, twitching and moaning like he was about to die. I've never been so frightened before in my life, wondering what could possibly be wrong."

"D'you think maybe he's still asleep?" Harry asked. "Something really horrible must have happened to him to make him react like that."

"How do you mean?" Ron asked, but class ended before Harry could answer.


Meep.

All done for chapter 6.

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