Playing With Fire
Trowa waited until Black Apparated them outside of the Leaky Cauldron to comfort Quatre. Stepping close, he gently pushed his husband against the brick wall. Quatre gasped, clearly surprised, but then he was melting into Trowa's mouth and pulling him closer. Sheltered by the alley's shadows, they kissed slowly; their bodies flush against each other as Trowa stroked his hand soothingly through the soft golden locks and down Quatre's sensitive sides.
"Merlin's beard!"
The cry was so shocked that Trowa pulled away from his love. He looked to see Black standing a few feet away wide-eyed and his mouth hanging open. He glanced back at Quatre to see the blond leaning against the wall, his head tilted back where it rested against the bricks. His hair was mussed attractively, his fair cheeks flushed with arousal, and a satisfied smirk curling his lips.
"Something wrong, Mr. Black?" Quatre asked, arching a brow. He finally pushed off the wall and idly straightened his clothes.
"You… you're…" Black clearly struggled to find words.
Trowa frowned and turned his attention to Quatre. "Are you okay?" The question was asking many things. Was Quatre upset about the meeting with Dumbledore? Was he truly ready for the meeting with Malfoy? Was it a problem they had kissed in front of the wizard? He only now recalled Dumbledore's warning that homosexual relationships weren't well received in the Wizarding world.
Quatre's smirk softened into a true smile filled with affection. He lifted his hand to briefly caress Trowa's cheek and tug at his chin-length bangs. "I'm better now. Thank you."
"But…!" Black sputtered.
Quatre's expression hardened as his blue eyes pinned their ally in place. "I care not for your opinion, Black, but I assure you it is perfectly natural to be comforted by a kiss from my husband."
"Husband…" Black gasped, still clearly shocked. Trowa could see white all around his irises.
"Judging by your reaction…" Quatre slowly closed the distance between them, each step deliberate. "I must assume that it's not only Wizarding technology that is stuck in the Dark Ages. Trowa and I will keep that in mind while in public, but I suggest, if you wish to form a close relationship with our group, that you evolve your views regarding love quickly."
Trowa remained where he was as Quatre stared the wizard down. Black couldn't hold his gaze and quickly morphed into a dog. It saddened him to see tension in the animal's frame that hadn't been there before. The scruffy dog walked stiffly across the street and sat with his back toward them, only leaving one ear canted in their direction.
"I'm truly getting sick of this place," Quatre whispered.
Trowa stepped up beside him and squeezed his hand to remind him he wasn't alone.
Quatre turned to lean his head against Trowa's shoulder for the length of a deep breath before he straightened once more and strode across the street. Trowa admired the confidence in his husband's stride and in the set of his shoulders. Quatre was truly remarkable; his ability to project strength while exhausted and stressed never ceased to impress Trowa. Shaking himself, he quickly followed the retreating pair. He had a job to do.
Diagon Alley was still busy even though they were quickly approaching dusk. Trowa kept his eyes moving, senses alert for any form of attack. The weight of his guns and knives was comforting. He kept seeing Harry disappear right in front of them that morning in the pub. He wasn't about to fail a second time. Anyone within line of sight could potentially be a threat, and Trowa treated them that way.
Their first stop wasn't Malfoy's law firm. Instead, Quatre led them down a side street to a high-end robe shop. Black remained outside. Trowa shook his head slightly and took up a position on the inside where he could see the whole of the interior. Quatre gave a charming smile and politely requested immediate assistance. A mere thirty minutes later, they left the shop nearly fifteen hundred galleons lighter, which amounted to about ten thousand Euros or six thousand space Credits.
Trowa had to admit Quatre looked amazing. The soft light of sunset made Quatre's golden hair look glossy and luxurious, and his peach-colored skin looked radiant and unblemished. His large blue eyes were enhanced magnificently by the royal blue robe he wore. It hugged his torso, showing off his lean build. The high collar framed his long, elegant neck and folded out over each shoulder like the petals of some exotic flower. The robe was cut so that it fell in a deep V down to Quatre's midsection. Black embroidery decorated the hems, the design of which complemented the intricate black lace decorating the white vest and the black silk shirt Quatre wore underneath.
The robe flared open around Quatre's lean legs as they walked, and Trowa caught sight of pristine white pants that were slightly baggy around the thigh and skintight around the calves. They were tucked into a pair of black leather ankle boots with three inch heels that put him an inch and a half taller than Trowa. A flash of silver drew his eyes to a beautiful broach that rested at the base of Quatre's throat. It was a delicate lace work of platinum around a roughly cut yet brilliant sapphire only a shade darker than Quatre's eyes and nearly the same color of his robe.
Even after four years of being married to a multibillionaire, it still amused Trowa how much money and effort the people in Quatre's circles put into their image. It was a good thing Duo wasn't here. The braided pilot would have likely pushed Quatre over the edge with some biting jokes, and Trowa had a strong suspicion that Quatre had had enough of Duo's hyperactivity for one day.
Now dressed appropriately, the sky blushing a soft pink and dusky purple, they made their way toward their destination. The law firm was down a side street near Gringotts, and it rivaled the bank in elegance and decadence if not size.
Enormous glass lanterns spilled golden light over the street and illuminated elegant, pink marble steps. The front door was iron banded oak, bracketed by two white marble pillars that had carvings of hundreds of birds of prey. The artwork was so detailed that Trowa suspected they were real, magicked somehow into the marble. The suspicion made his adrenaline spike. He barely tolerated the idea of animals caged and kept. Killed for art's sake crossed the line.
The door opened onto a lobby decked out in gold and silver, crystal chandeliers, dark leather couches, and more marble. A wooden secretary's desk was positioned along the far wall to the left, behind which sat a discretely placed small wooden door. Sitting casually behind the massive thing, a grey-haired witch sat in a red leather office chair. A leather-bound appointment book lay directly in front of her, along with quills, ink pots, and a massive crystal ball made of onyx. Set in the same wall to the right was an ornate double door made of black wood with large golden handles. Both doors were shut.
The secretary's cool hazel eyes regarded Quatre, unimpressed as the blond positioned himself before her. "May I help you?"
Trowa stood behind and to the right of his charge, fully in bodyguard mode, and regarded her just as coolly. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Black mirror his position on Quatre's left and spared half a second to feel relieved that the wizard wasn't allowing his emotions to influence his performance.
"Lucius Malfoy, please," Quatre requested, gloved hands linked loosely at the small of his back.
"Do you have an appointment, Mr. …?" She let her sentence trail off, waiting for a name. Her tone and manner told them she didn't expect to be impressed.
Quatre smiled sweetly and tilted his chin down a fraction. "Inform your employer that Monsieur Winner is here to see him. I do not have an appointment, but, I recommend, madam, that you let Mr. Malfoy decide what to do with me. If you should dismiss me like some commoner, I will walk away with a very strong enmity toward your employer. I am certain Mr. Malfoy will not enjoy the experience, and you will likely not enjoy what happens when he blames you for his misfortune."
By this point, the woman had lost her superior expression. The longer Quatre talked in his most cultured accent, the more her eyes widened. When he finally came to a stop, she swallowed hard and reached toward the onyx ball sitting on her desk. "If you could wait over there a moment, sir," she practically begged.
Quatre inclined his head deep enough to dip his shoulders slightly forward, a gesture of respect. "Merci beaucoup. I applaud your judgment, mademoiselle." With a final sweet smile, he spun and stalked over to one of the couches.
Black followed and settled at Quatre's feet while Trowa moved behind his charge, eyes constantly scanning the room. He took note of the secretary's quickly moving lips as she gazed into the crystal ball. From this distance, her words should have easily been overheard, but Trowa could hear nothing and attributed it to magic. He checked his charge. If he didn't know better, he'd think Quatre was taking no notice of his surroundings. He stared straight ahead, expression relaxed and serene as he waited. It was a feint, of course. Quatre was just as aware of the room as Trowa.
Without use of a watch or clock, Quatre stood exactly ten minutes after he'd sat down. He straightened his gloves, gave a distracted nod toward the secretary, and moved toward the doors at a steady pace. Black trotted at his heels, tongue lolling with amusement. Trowa followed, keeping his eyes on the woman as she quickly got to her feet. She looked desperate.
"Mr. Winner, please! It will only be a moment more."
Quatre allowed her words to stop him. He turned to face her, expression cold. He stood there, blocking the doorway for a long moment. Trowa could see the shine on the woman's face as she began to sweat. Finally, Quatre spoke. "How much longer, madam? My time is precious."
The secretary came out from behind the desk and bowed. "Please, have a seat, sir. Would you like a glass of wine as you wait? I assure you it is of the best quality."
Quatre sneered. "If it is anything like the service, then I doubt it. You English know nothing of true wine." However, he did move further into the lobby. "How much longer am I expected to wait?"
"Lord Malfoy is currently at the Ministry of Magic, but he is due to arrive shortly." She bowed again. "Are you certain I can't provide you with refreshments?"
Quatre gave a quiet sigh before retaking his seat. "Water, no ice, and a fresh lemon," he ordered.
The woman smiled and hurried through the discrete door behind her desk. She returned twenty seconds later with a silver tray. On it rested Quatre's drink.
With graceful movements, Quatre removed his gloves, folded them in his lap, and took the drink, though he did not sip from it. Trowa relaxed a fraction. Normally he trusted Quatre to be able to sense poisons and the intentions of the people around him, but with magic involved they couldn't take anything for granted. Not even an innocent glass of water.
Quatre gave her another smile and the air became slightly charged. The blond had long ago learned to use his gift to his advantage. When he pushed out instead of taking in, his magic could set people at ease and made them more trusting as it was doing now. "Tell me about Lord Malfoy," Quatre asked conversationally. "He came highly recommended, but I have not had the fortune of meeting him in person."
The secretary's shoulders relaxed and she gave a quiet laugh. "Oh, Lord Malfoy is all they say he is, I assure you."
Quatre listened attentively as the woman went on about Lord Malfoy and his greatness… Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy (which explained the Lord part), married to a daughter of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, strong ties to the Wizengamot, Hogwarts board member, close friends of the Minister, significant financial contributor to charities… She was saying more, but Trowa's attention was taken up by the main doors next to the secretary's desk that led into the interior of the building.
They opened seemingly by themselves, indicating magic of some sort, and despite being made of heavy, ornately carved wood, they swept open soundlessly. A man in his late thirties, with sharp features and a square jaw, took a single step into the room. He had long, blond hair that was on the whiter side compared to Quatre's yellow gold. He had a lean build and stood about six feet tall with boots on. The expensive looking black robe with emerald green lining, walking cane with a silver head fixture, and austere expression marked the man as wealthy. Even from this distance, Trowa could make out grey eyes that reminded him of a predatory wolf.
Those grey eyes evaluated Trowa before dropping down to examine the dog form of Black. Only then did he turn his attention to Quatre. The man's mask was too well crafted to see any emotion in his eyes or face. He seemed completely at ease and gave the impression of being equally in control of the room as he was of himself. He was King of his Kingdom. Quatre allowed the illusion that he was unaware of the man's presence, letting the man make the first move.
Trowa considered the situation. Shouting across the room to get their attention would be undignified and approaching them would put him as lower than Quatre. Sure enough the aristocrat avoided both those things, instead tapping his cane on the marble floor just loudly enough for the secretary to hear.
The secretary spun around with a mighty blush on her face that quickly paled to a sickly white. She gestured quickly for Quatre to join her as she strode toward the austere man. Trowa followed close as his charge stood and approached their target, Black trotting at his side like a well-trained guard dog. The woman gave a bow once they reached the blond aristocrat.
"Lord Malfoy, this is Mr. Winner. He is here to see you regarding urgent private business."
Malfoy never acknowledged her. Instead his cool gaze remained locked impassively on Quatre.
Quatre gave a neutral, closed-mouthed smile and inclined his head. "Good evening, Lord Malfoy. I am Quatre Raberba Winner. I have a business proposition for you."
"Let's take this to my office." Without waiting for a response, Malfoy turned and strode through the doorway.
Quatre followed, his fingers forming a subtle sign for Trowa to be on guard. Trowa's hands drifted closer to his guns, now on red alert. Clearly Quatre could sense a threat that Trowa couldn't. Black trotted on, oblivious but watchful.
They travelled down a long, wide hallway. There were many doors, but they were all closed. Trowa didn't trust his ears to warn them should a door open at his back. Not with magic thrown into the equation. Therefore he had to do a visual sweep every fifteen seconds. It drew attention, but there was no other choice.
"I notice your guard is quite on edge," Malfoy drawled conversationally as he held open the door to his office. An amused smirk softened his stony expression. "I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable."
Quatre passed the man without acknowledging the barb. He positioned himself dead center and turned slowly, taking in the extravagant décor. "I applaud your interior designer, Lord Malfoy. It's very impressive."
Trowa stopped just inside and took a step to the right, positioning himself just beside the door. The office was large; a bar stood to the left and a wall of glass to the right. The view portrayed London from a vantage impossible considering they hadn't gone up any stairs, and yet they seemed to be at least a dozen stories high. It threw Trowa's interior compass off drastically. Stomach tightening, he took in the massive black desk, three couches, and several low tables scattered around the oval room. There didn't seem to be any other entrances beside the door they'd entered from, and there were no other people present. He noted Black positioning himself at Quatre's feet and approved.
"Thank you, Mr. Winner." Malfoy moved to the bar. A wave of his wand and two tumblers obediently floated from the glass cupboards and settled gently on the bar top. A decanter of amber liquor also rose and filled the glasses to the halfway mark. "Would you care for a drink?"
"That would be lovely." Quatre sat on a couch facing his host. He let one arm run along the back as he crossed his legs comfortably, the massive window at his back.
Trowa disapproved, thinking of snipers, but he made no move to communicate with his charge. Quatre undoubtedly had his empathy wide open and would be aware of his emotions as well as Malfoy's. Quatre would have sensed his unease, and he had chosen to ignore it.
Malfoy approached with a glass of whisky in each hand. The man's wand had disappeared, likely up his sleeve. "I must confess to being curious, Mr. Winner. I am not unfamiliar with your name. I intend no offense, but I assumed you were a Muggle."
Quatre took the drink and Malfoy moved to sit across from him on the opposing couch. A low coffee table separated them. He gave a slow smile, this time showing a hint of teeth. "That is what I want the Muggles to believe." He sipped the drink, much to Trowa's dismay. "May I inquire how you came across my name if you've kept yourself strictly to Wizarding circles?"
Malfoy, having never sipped his drink much to Trowa's further dismay, set it aside and regarded Quatre soberly. "I make it my business to know things. I don't, however, know why you are here. What brings you to my office, Mr. Winner?"
"I want you to champion my suit against one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." Quatre let his smile sharpen, revealing a hint of his dangerous side. He also set aside his drink. "For one million galleons."
Malfoy hadn't let his expression reveal any reaction, but Trowa had to assume by the glint in Quatre's eye that the wizard hadn't guarded his emotions as successfully. "Interesting," Malfoy said blandly. He reached for his drink and took a sip this time. "What is your complaint against him?"
"He sent his minions to attack me for some unknown reason. My good friend, a Squib high-placed in the Muggle military, as well as my bodyguard, also a Squib, were with me when I was attacked. All three of us suffered injury and attempts at memory adjustment. The attackers were a diverse group, in age as well as social status. The only thing they have in common is Albus Dumbledore, and my sources have confirmed they have all acted as agents of Dumbledore in the past. I have no doubt he is the source of the unprovoked attack. It is about time that he is held responsible for his actions."
"Interesting." Malfoy's fingers tapped at his knee as he stared unblinking. "And yourself, sir? Are you also a Squib? Or perhaps a Muggleborn?"
Quatre's eyes narrowed and his expression tightened forbiddingly. In a quiet, tension-filled whisper, he spoke. "Pardon me?"
Malfoy lifted an eyebrow. "Forgive me, but I am not aware of a Winner Wizarding family."
"I am not here to be interviewed, Malfoy. I am here to hire you." Quatre stood and Malfoy tensed, his right hand holding his wand once more. Trowa palmed a gun. "But if it is a magical display you want, then I'd be happy to oblige."
A graceful flick of his hand and Quatre had his wand. The tip slowly began to glow a sullen red. Black cowered, a whimper rising in his throat. Trowa remained where he was. The cast of Black's ears showed the dog wasn't truly afraid. He was merely hamming it up to further impress Malfoy.
As a ribbon of red and yellow fire spun out from Quatre's wand like a streamer, Trowa's held his breath. It was beautiful, but it was also dangerous. The fire came too close to the couch and coffee table. Both began to scorch and blacken, and Trowa tensed in preparation to get his charge away to safety. A quick glance at Malfoy revealed the aristocrat was literally sweating.
"Is this enough or do you want more?" Quatre questioned softly, eyes seeming to glow. Trowa wasn't sure if it was because of the reflection of the fire or if it was something internal. He looked completely at ease, invigorated even. Clearly the display wasn't costing him in energy.
"I am satisfied." Malfoy stood and a wave of his wand had water sprouting to put out the flame. Quatre allowed it. Another wave dried the table and floor. "I believe we can do business. That is, if you can afford my personal attention."
"Money is no matter, I assure you," Quatre said with a wry smile. "I like to win, and I can afford the best."
Malfoy was clearly pleased by the compliment. "Come. I will need a detailed telling of the event, as well as an accounting of the injuries you suffered and the cost of treatment." He strode to his massive desk. He took a seat and prepared a piece of parchment and his quill.
Quatre followed him and took the seat across from the wizard. Trowa maintained his position while Black moved to sit beside Quatre's chair. As his charge began to spin his story and Malfoy diligently recorded his words, Trowa relaxed a bit and counted the minutes until they could depart.
xXxXxXx
Wufei rolled his eyes as they all sat down to have soup. Duo was currently being his annoying self, making absurd comments and encouraging Harry to act frivolously. He was aware that such levity was crucial to the mental health of the group, especially for Harry who was still a child, but that didn't mean he enjoyed the brunet when he was at his most boisterous.
"We can turn Trowa into a big cat and get him to do amazing tricks! I bet Cathy would be thrilled," Duo exclaimed, chortling.
"I bet there really is a spell that turns people into frogs!" Harry said with a laugh.
It was simply amazing how fast and how much Duo could eat while simultaneously talking non-stop. It was a magic all Duo's own, and it maddened him at almost every meal they took together despite the years they had lived together. Wufei was raised in a culture where conversation was quiet and sparse during meals, and he purposefully tuned the braided pilot's antics out and focused on Heero.
Sitting across from Heero and next to Harry, Wufei had the perfect opportunity to scrutinize Heero without drawing undue attention, though it didn't go unnoticed by the subject at hand. Cobalt blue eyes shifted to meet his own. Heero held his gaze without qualm, causing Wufei to frown and drop his eyes to his soup.
"Oh! We can turn Une into an old crow so she can go undercover!"
"We can turn the guards who stand by her door into dragons or something!"
Wufei's hand tightened around his spoon, though he was careful to keep his anger clear from his expression. Why had Heero so quickly given way before Harry's unreasonable demand? Harry was getting older, yes. He was thirteen, soon to be fourteen. He was much stronger than the damaged eight-year-old who'd come into their care. He was intelligent, resilient, and possessed a noble spirit, but Harry was still fragile in many ways. Yet Heero had supported Harry's demand to actively participate in the war! It was baffling. They were all protective of Harry, Heero the most. So why? It didn't make sense.
Loud, frantic knocking came at the door. Silence descended on the group as all four of them looked toward the hallway. It couldn't be Quatre and Trowa, they wouldn't knock. Neither would Black.
"I thought Black said no one could find the house," Duo questioned, voicing what was on everyone's mind. Heero jumped to his feet and practically ran for the front door. Duo was quick on his heels. Both of them had guns in hand.
Wufei caught Harry's arm when the teen tried to follow his guardians. "Upstairs," he ordered, moving Harry down the hallway and giving him a gentle push toward the stairs.
The teen obeyed, running to the second floor. He stopped at the top and crouched down. Wufei frowned, but he didn't have time to order him into a bedroom. Heero was opening the front door. Duo stood a few feet behind his lover, in the doorway of the sitting room, gun aimed chest high. Wufei let his hand rest on the hilt of his sword as he took up a guard position at the base of the stairs.
A familiar face appeared out of the dusk. Heero slammed the door shut behind their visitor. Neither he nor Duo relaxed their stance. Wufei turned his attention to the unwelcome wizard. Remus Lupin stood with his hands up and his chest heaving, as if he'd run here over a long distance. His wavy, dirty blond hair was in disarray and his eyes were wide with something akin to shock.
"Is it true? Is Sirius Black here? You think he's innocent?"
The questions came tumbling out of the wizard's mouth almost too fast to understand. He made to take a step forward, his arms reaching for Heero, only to freeze as Heero whipped his gun up and aimed at the man's throat.
"Please…" Lupin staggered back, his arms and shoulders dropping as his back hit the wall. "You don't understand. I knew Sirius. He was my best friend, a brother!" Something dark passed over his expression. "Until he killed James and Lily." Lupin took a deep breath, pushing the darkness away. "Please. You can't trust him. I don't know what he told you, but…"
Heero lowered his weapon, satisfied that Duo and Wufei could cover him. He never took his eyes off the desperate man. "Sirius Black is our business. How did you hear about it?"
Lupin kept his eyes lowered as he spoke slowly, voice thick. "Dumbledore… He got a report from the Minister. Fudge said the Muggle government admitted that they had Sirius and that he claimed to be innocent!" Amber eyes flashed up briefly to look at Heero before sinking to the floor again. "I thought… He might be here… I should have guessed…" A strained laugh. "I should have guessed you'd be here… Harry, he'd want to be close to Harry."
Even from the distance of the stairs, Wufei could see the torment in the man's amber eyes. Lupin swallowed loudly, a strange sound rising from his throat. It was almost like the whine of a dog. Wufei shot Duo a glance and saw the braided pilot was frowning as well.
"Please! I need the truth. Why do you believe he's innocent?"
Heero never lowered his gun, and he questioned in a cold monotone. "How did you find this house?"
Lupin gave a frustrated growl. His arms came up to hug his torso, as if he had to physically hold himself in place. "I was allowed into the secret of the house during the last war. I never thought to come back. Not after…" The wizard shook his head violently before pinning Heero with a pleading look. "I need to talk to him! I need to understand!"
Heero stood unmoved by the heartfelt plea and by the inhuman sounds the man was making. "Black is not here at the moment. Secure a hotel room. I'll have him contact you as soon as possible."
"I have to see him!" Lupin screamed. His arm flashed out in a backhanded slap, his eyes flashing gold.
Heero ducked it, dove forward, and slammed his fist brutally into the man's jaw. Wufei watched, impassive, as Lupin dropped bonelessly to the floor. Duo whistled. Heero was incredibly strong. A hit like that, without Heero holding back, could easily snap someone's neck. Lupin was lucky to be alive.
"What do we do with him?" Duo asked, coming up to stand at Heero's side as the stoic pilot stared down at his victim.
Wufei looked up to see Harry already halfway down the stairs. He shot the boy a dark glare freezing him in place. "He's unconscious," Harry protested.
An agonized scream tore through the air.
Wufei spun, sword drawn. Lupin was convulsing on the floor. Heero flung his arm across Duo's chest, using it to push the brunet back from the afflicted man. They both retreated to the sitting room doorway as Lupin's cries became shrieks. Wufei watched in horror as the man's body seemed to melt. Bones snapped; skin stretched grotesquely. The wizard was howling now, gaining volume. His clothes began to shred. Fur began to sprout as Lupin's skull deformed into something monstrous.
"Holy hell!" Duo yelled.
Heero shoved his lover back just as the monster leapt, still howling. Wufei ran forward, his heart hammering in his chest. He watched with adrenaline fueled clarity as Heero went down under the slobbering, snarling beast. There was the bang of three muffled gunshots; Heero was still fighting. Wufei leapt into the air and swung his sword down in an impaling strike.
Feral golden eyes snapped around. A maul of sharp teeth strung with saliva ropes opened and snapped closed around his katana before it could pierce the monster's hide. Wufei crashed into the beast, only to be dragged off as it flung his head to the side and released the blade. He hit the ground rolling and came to his feet before the front door. His sword was still whole, but there was a long crack down the middle. The tip was close to breaking off.
Blood-speckled foam dripped from the thing's muzzel. Its growl was so loud it vibrated Wufei's chest like one of Duo's subwoofers. Heero was on his feet across from Wufei, the beast between them. Blood coated Heero's left arm and soaked his shirt at the shoulder and down his side. His pants at the left thigh were equally dark with blood. Wufei could only hope most of it belonged to the creature.
The monster whipped his head around to snarl at Wufei before lunging for his throat. Wufei slashed a deadly crescent in front of him as he dove to the side. The monster howled, heavy body slamming into the front door and shaking the walls. Wufei flipped backward, landing beside Heero and removing himself from their path.
Two guns went off with deafening force. The monster jerked and spasmed as the bullets pierced his torso. The head shots encountered massive arms that the beast had crossed protectively in front of its face. The thing howled, but there wasn't enough blood. He hadn't suffered a mortal wound.
The beast launched itself across the hallway. Wide, clawed hands reached for them as yellow, murderous eyes promised death. Wufei jumped backward toward the stairs. Duo dove to the right, still firing until his gun clicked empty. But Heero stood like a fool. He knocked aside one clawed hand, allowed the second to latch onto his right shoulder, and delivered a brutal uppercut with the strength of his thighs propelling the full power of his arm upward.
The deadweight of the monster fell on Heero and they went sliding halfway to the kitchen. Duo and Wufei descended on the pair, but before they could try to roll the beast off, the creature went slamming against the wall. Wufei looked up to see Harry standing halfway down the stairs, his hand outstretched. Heero's gasp drew Wufei's attention.
Duo knelt beside his downed lover, hands clenched on Heero's wounds, trying to stem the bleeding. Dread speared through Wufei's chest, making him feel cold. Heero's dark brown hair stood in messy disarray. Blood spattered his too-pale cheeks and one gently slanting eye was starting to swell shut.
"Heero!" Harry cried as the boy came running downstairs to his fallen guardian.
Wufei gently moved the teen aside as he knelt. "Duo, the first aid kit."
Duo turned on his knees, gun raised and pointed at the creature's skull. Before he could pull the trigger, Heero grabbed a hold of Duo's long braid and pulled. Duo went down on hands and knees with a snarl.
"Kit," Heero repeated the order. He stared Duo down until the braided pilot looked away, cussing up a storm. He got to his feet and sprinted up the stairs.
Heero lay perfectly still as Wufei tore his shirt off his chest. Harry whimpered at the sight of the terrible wounds on both shoulders and down Heero's left side.
"I'm fine," Heero said quietly, looking up at Harry. "Secure the target."
Harry slowly stepped away, tears soaking his face. With a grimace, the teen reached his hand forward and closed his fist as if on an invisible leash. The unconscious monster was then dragged behind him as he pulled the creature into the kitchen. He left a trail of blood in his wake, and Wufei took vindictive pleasure at the sight.
Almost reluctantly, he turned his attention back to Heero's injures. He used the shirt for a makeshift bandage and pressed it to Heero's left side. However, his eyes were on his friend's right shoulder. The vicious claws had punctured through the flesh all around the ball joint and had practically severed the arm. The wounds were in places that made it difficult to staunch the bleeding. Wufei bit his lip hard. It was a fatal wound. Already a small puddle of blood was forming around Heero's body.
Duo dropped down beside him, out of breath. He shoved the large first-aid kit open and grabbed some bandages. "You stupid son of a bitch," the braided pilot hissed. "What were you thinking? Will you ever give up that sacrificial bullshit, you idiot?" Without being ordered, Duo pressed the bandages to the slashes in Heero's side and the claw mark on his shoulder over the left pectoral.
Encouraged by Duo's fire, Wufei ran his hands over the horrific claw punctures in Heero's right shoulder. "Harry, I need towels! Hurry!"
The teen appeared from the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. There came the sound of hinges bending, and Wufei knew those doors wouldn't open without serious force or Harry's power. Then the teen was running past them and up the stairs, his braid flying behind him like a streamer. Duo was leaning hard on Heero's side and thigh with the pressure bandages. He was cussing under his breath. His bangs fell into his eyes, hiding them from view, but Wufei knew the brunet was terrified.
Duo still halfway believed in the Death curse he thought was haunting him. Everyone close to him died, sooner or later. In this case, his fears might be proven true. Heero was losing too much blood. Chest tightening, Wufei looked up as Harry came running back with the requested towels. The teen took one look at Wufei's face and paled. He quickly looked away, furious that he'd let something show on his face.
"Heero! You're going to be fine!" Harry practically sobbed as he dropped to his knees beside Duo. The boy grabbed Heero's left hand tightly between his fists. "Heero!"
Heero opened pain-clouded blue eyes and gave a smile. No words had to be spoken. His love and devotion were clear. Wufei ducked his head as Harry sucked in a wet, tearful breath and Duo fell ominously silent.
The front door slammed open. Wufei jumped to his feet, sword raised, while Harry spun around on his knees, Duo's gun aimed down the hallway. Duo hadn't moved. His sole attention was on his lover.
Fortunately, it was only Quatre returning with the others. Black ran forward, blue eyes wide. He almost slipped in the blood, but he caught himself. He flung himself forward onto his knees beside Heero. Harry eyed the man warily, but he didn't shove the wizard away. Instead he turned his attention back to Heero, holding his hand and whispering something softly.
Wufei re-sheathed his sword and met Quatre's eyes. The blond's face was bone-white as he took in the massive amount of blood around Heero's body. Trowa grabbed his husband's shoulder, devastation on his face. They too knew Heero's wounds were fatal.
"Kreacher!"
Wufei jumped and looked down to see Black aiming his wand at Heero's wounds and chanting in a bastardized Latin. Wufei took a step forward to stop him, but Quatre caught his arm. Wufei let himself be stayed.
The disgusting elf appeared with a crack.
"I need the potion kit! Now!" Black snapped before returning to his chant. When the elf returned, he ordered the elf to leave it and return to his cupboard. Harry flinched, but he said nothing. Black didn't notice, his attention on Duo. "Open the kit. Give him the Blood-Replenisher. It's red."
Duo tore his hands from his lover and practically threw open the box. "You better save him, Black…" he threatened darkly.
Black shot him a cold look, his chant never wavering.
"It's going to be okay, Heero. Like magic," Harry was saying softly. He was against the wall, practically hugging Heero's head as he held it still for Duo to pour the thick fluid inside. "Swallow it, Heero. Please."
"Drink it, you stubborn bastard," Duo rasped. Wufei could see tears falling down his cheeks.
"The yellow one next. The Muscle-Knitter," Black ordered.
Wufei stared at the wizard in surprise. The man had displayed a submissive temperament so far. They'd seen flashes of anger, but Black had always subsided. This confident, take-charge attitude was shocking.
"What did this?" Quatre asked. He stood tense, his hands fisted at his sides.
"Some unholy beast. It's secured in the kitchen," Wufei answered. Then his attention was taken by the miracle happening before him.
Everyone fell silent; the group held their breath as one. The terrible wound nearly severing Heero's right arm began to heal right before their eyes. Muscle and skin grew at a rapid rate, and in less than a minute his arm was whole once more.
Black sat back on his heels. Sweat dampened his face, but he looked triumphant. "He'll need a lot of sleep and food, and I'll need to check on him to make sure the spells finish their job, but I think he'll be okay."
Duo practically tackled the man in a hug. "Thank you! Oh, god, thank you!" Black blushed and awkwardly hugged Duo back. Fortunately for him, Duo sprang away and returned to fussing over his lover.
Harry smiled beatifically at the wizard. He looked up into Black's face with shining gratitude. "Thank you, Sirius," the teen whispered before falling against Duo's side, crying softly. Duo hugged him close, in tears himself.
"I'll carry him," Trowa offered. He squeezed Quatre's shoulder and stepped forward. Heero was no light-weight, despite his appearance, but a spell from Black lightened him enough that Trowa could easily scoop him up into his arms. Duo and Harry followed at his heels.
"What happened?" Black asked as he climbed to his feet. There were red stains on his jeans from where he'd knelt in Heero's blood. "Kreacher! Clean this up!"
The elf appeared and began to magic away the mess one section at a time. It's evil, bulbous eyes glared up at them as he muttered insanely to himself.
Wufei shot a venomous glare toward the kitchen. "Lupin…" He didn't get out any more than that before Black gave a cry and ran toward the kitchen. The doors blew open before he could touch them and he disappeared into the room.
Wufei shared a disbelieving glance with Quatre before following.
Black was crouched by the monster's head, muttering in Latin. The monster was breathing heavily, each breath a wet rattle. Blood oozed from the many bullet wounds and out of the creature's mouth and nose. However, as they watched Black work, the creature began to heal, albeit much slower than Heero had. The wizard caught sight of them and looked up with frantic blue eyes.
"I need the potions!"
"Are you mad?" Wufei snarled. "That thing tried to kill us!"
"He couldn't help it!" Black snarled back. He leapt to his feet and Wufei took a startled step back. Angry power surged around the wizard's form. The room seemed suddenly darker. "I've put up with a lot of shit from you guys. I've done everything you've asked of me and more! If you don't help me now, you're on your own! You hear me?"
Wufei grabbed the hilt of his katana, but Quatre put a hand on his arm.
"You're right, Sirius. We've been hard on you, and we are grateful for your assistance. However, I worry about what will happen if you heal this creature and it attacks us again," the blond explained diplomatically.
Black ran a hand through his wild hair impatiently. "Lock me in here with him. We'll be fine until the sun rises and he returns to human form."
Quatre nodded and tugged Wufei out of the room. "Very well. I'll get the potions."
"What are you doing?" Wufei demanded once they were back in the hallway.
"There is no reason not to trust his judgment." Quatre grabbed the box of potions. "He is our ally and we owe him support."
Wufei shook his head, letting the blond play nursemaid to the crazy wizard and the monster. He turned and jogged up the stairs. Trowa was just coming out of the bedroom. Wufei looked past him to see Duo on one side of Heero and Harry on the other while Heero lay unconscious. "How is he?"
"His heart rate is good," Trowa answered. "So is his color and temperature." He looked back into the room. "He's unresponsive, even to pain stimuli, but I assume that is normal. Black said he'd need a lot of sleep."
Wufei nodded. "Quatre's downstairs helping Black heal the monster," he informed his friend.
Trowa's eyes narrowed and he hurried downstairs after his wayward husband.
Still amped up, Wufei marched into the bathroom and yanked out some towels. He wetted half of them with warm water before returning to the bedroom. Duo looked up at him with haunted violet eyes. Harry mirrored him from Heero's other side. Wufei felt his anger drain away. He sat at the edge of the bed and wordlessly handed over the towels. Duo ducked his head and accepted them. Carefully he began to clean Heero of the blood and sweat coating his skin.
"Black assures us he will be fine," Wufei said, hoping to lift the heavy atmosphere. He dearly hoped the wizard wasn't wrong in his diagnosis. His heart still thumped faster than normal with reaction.
"He'll be fine," Duo said gruffly. The brunet didn't look up as he said it.
Harry scooted over so he was next to Wufei and leaned against him. "What happened?" he demanded angrily. "Why did Lupin do that?"
"Apparently Lupin has no control…" Wufei trailed off as everything fell into place.
"What?" Harry demanded. "What did you realize?" Duo had also stopped in his ministrations to look up at him.
"A werewolf. Lupin is a werewolf," he answered grimly. "According to ancient legend, on the night of the full moon, these victims transform into a beast against their will. They have no control and no memory of the events that happen while they are transformed."
"A werewolf," Harry repeated numbly. He looked down at Heero. "Do you think…?" Duo looked horrified.
Wufei shook his head. "I am uncertain. I believe the myth says you must be bitten to contract the disease. However, I am not sure of the accuracy of the myth."
They fell silent after that, just watching over Heero as he slept.
Chapter end. Please review.
A/N: ! : VOTE : ! Well? What do you think? Does Heero have being a werewolf in his future?