Hey guys! Another update here for you. I don't know why I do this to myself, but I wrote and edited this all in one sitting. *collapses onto desk* So I am going to post it now and pass out in my bed. If you want to make me happy, you could leave me some reviews...because that is what authors love. Seriously, I'm pretty sure all writers are like this. Reviews are like our candy. So if you give me candy, I'll eat it and get really hyper and stay up late into the night writing things for this story! :)

On a slightly related note, I have discovered there is a Ciel Phantomhive cosplayer in the new town I recently moved to. I've seen this person twice while walking to class, and I don't why they're dressed as Ciel or where they get their clothes (it's a really good cosplay,) but I am wildly curious. I wonder if it would be impolite to approach them and ask...?

Lydia's feet pounded over the earth as she raced across the lawn toward the source of the towering column of smoke pressed vividly against the nighttime sky. She had already passed by Green House and Red House, and as she dashed around the side of the servants' quarters, she could tell from the direction of the blaze that Blue House had been spared. It was Purple House that was in flames.

This did not extinguish her desire to help. Making sure her hair was tucked underneath her shirt's collar, Lydia dashed across the grass and found herself in the midst of a melee of students from all four houses. Everyone was hurrying about in confusion, shouting to each other over the crackling of flames, without any apparent rhyme or reason as to where they were going. Lydia dithered helplessly in the crowd before getting her bearings and shouldering her way to the edge, where she observed a wide line of students streaming down the path away from the burning building. The fire appeared to have started on the left side of the first floor, where she could see a broken window expelling thick clouds of smoke. Another window shattered under the heat and pressure from within, and everyone in the crowd winced.

"You lot, quit standing around and get some water! We need water over here! And room monitors, hurry up on that damn roll call and report to the prefect!"

Lydia's head snapped to the right at the sound of the voice, bellowing above all the others. Forcing herself to ignore the wetness of blood running down her calf and soaking into her shoe, the young girl ruggedly forded her way through the mess of students until she spotted the owner of the voice, the Purple House fag with the tall hair. She seized his shoulder and deepened her own voice a few notes. "Hey! Is everyone out of Purple House?"

"That's what I'm tryin' to figure out, mate!" the young man barked as he flagged down several other boys heading his way. "Room monitors! Have you accounted for everyone in your rooms?"

Five of the boys nodded; the sixth did not. His face was pale and his mouth drawn. "Cheslock, we've counted everyone but Lowery. I can't find him. I've gone through my group twice, and he's not mixed up with any of the other dorm groups, either."

Cheslock swore and ran a hand through his wild hair in frustration. "Goddammit all! Are you sure?" The boy nodded. "Go and report this to Violet. I'll- I'll think of something-"

The group of boys hurried past him, and Lydia stepped back to give the Purple House fag space as he paced anxiously in a tight circle, staring at his burning dormitory. Another window exploded with enough force to make the crowd scream. Suddenly, the young man had slung his jacket over his shoulder and taken off toward the building with the speed of a flying shadow. Lydia gasped at his courage and his impulsivity. "Hey-! What're you doing? You shouldn't go alone!" The boy did not turn around. A moment later Lydia realized what she was saying, swore under her breath, and sprinted after him.

She caught up to him as he dashed through one of the side doors on the right end of the building. The hallway was filled with so much smoke that Lydia could scarcely see the paintings on the walls, but the fire was still confined to the left side of the dormitory. However, Lydia knew from experience how quickly flames could spread. She seized Cheslock's arm as he tied the sleeves of his jacket over his face. "All right, if we're gonna do this, we've got to stay low to the ground. That's where the air is. And no matter what, do not lose sight of your exit. Where is this student's dorm room?"

The Purple House fag looked surprised that someone had followed him. Nevertheless, he handed her a handkerchief to cover her own face and jerked his head. "It's this way." Lydia took her last breath of almost-clean air as they plunged into the dim depths of Purple House, hunkering low to the carpet. Lydia followed close behind him, painfully aware of how easy it would be to become separated in this thick smoke. Cheslock bellowed the missing student's surname as they dashed through winding hallways, the air growing hotter and heavier as they neared the center of the building. Lydia followed suit. "Lowery! Lowery, can you hear us?! Make some noise if you can! Lowery! LOWERY!"

From further across the building, Lydia heard the crunch and thunder of furniture collapsing as the ceiling caved in. She flinched at the sudden familiarity of this setting, wondering if she was going to be killed in the same way they had thought Vincent had died for so long. Killed in flames, with no final words…. No, she had to keep her head. They were not trapped in this fire. Their exit was still open. Cheslock pulled up short as they reached a set of wooden doors. "This is it!" He grasped the handle, then withdrew his hand with a cry, crunching his teeth in pain. The metal handle had warped in the heat, sealing the door shut. "Dammit all! Lowery, are you in there?!"

"Let me do it!" Lydia shouldered past him and gripped the warped handle in her bandaged hand. She saw the white gauze crisp under the heat, but she felt no pain of flesh or bone. Normally she would have been more reluctant to use her strength in front of a stranger, but if they did not find the boy and retreat quickly, they were going to pass out from inhaling too much smoke. She lashed her arm backward and wrenched the handle right out of the door, taking a large chunk of wood with it. She glimpsed Cheslock's shocked face for a moment before she slammed the broken door open and dashed into the room. "Lowery?! Lowery, are you here?!"

"His bed's over there!" Cheslock yelled, pulling her toward the end of the room. The large dormitory had books and clothes scattered all around the beds, telling her its occupants had left in a great hurry. The Purple House fag swore as they reached the indicated bed and found it empty. "Goddammit all to hell in a handbasket! Where the bloody hell is he?" He turned his head about in desperation. "Check the rest of the room!"

Lydia and the young man raced among the beds, throwing blankets off of mattresses and upturning chairs and tables, searching for any sign of an unconscious body. Lydia punched her way into the dormitory closet and rifled blindly through rows of clothes, in case the frightened student had tried to take refuge inside. Cheslock checked the attached washroom and lavatory. When they re-emerged, both could tell from the other's face that they had not found Lowery.

Something loud and very close roared out in the hallway, accompanied by great bodies of smoke rolling past the halfway-open door. Something much nearer to them was on fire. Lydia dove for the ground as the room became so full of smoke that she could no longer see Cheslock. "We've got to leave! We've got no choice! He could be anywhere- we can't search the rest of the building until we put out the fire! There's no time!"

Suddenly a hand swooped through the smoke and lifted her by her shoulder. "We're goin' out the window!" she heard the boy shout, and the next second a breath of fresh air rolled into the room as a nearby window grated upward. Cheslock boosted her toward the air and she dragged him out after her. Lydia's face met squarely with the branches of a bush as the two young people tumbled down a small incline and came to rest under the shadow of the fiery monolith of Violet Wolf House, coughing and gasping as the night reeled around them. Cheslock growled deep in his throat, staring up at the day-bright windows of his burning house. "Damn….dammit all…."

"Cheslock! Cheslock, where are you?!"

The Purple House fag bolted upright, staring in the direction of the main entrance. He scrambled upward, seized her arm, and pulled her to her feet. "Come on!"

Lydia ran behind him, surreptitiously checking her bandages to make sure they were still covered. The gauze on her hand was scorched from touching the burning handle, but not so much that it would disintegrate. Reaching the main entrance of the dormitory, she saw that the students in the crowd seemed to have located a water source. A long line of males from all four houses were streaming toward the entrance, buckets in hand. A few who had run ahead were straining to open the huge double doors so the water-bearers could attack the heart of the fire. Lydia spotted three of the room monitors running toward them across the lawn. "Cheslock! There you are! We found Lowery! He was sitting in the grass the whole time!"

This time both Cheslock and Lydia swore profusely. The room monitor who had spoken stepped back, looking concerned. Cheslock schooled his features into a façade of calm. "Good. I'm glad he's alive. Now go find him, give him a right smack on the noggin, and tell him I'm gonna kill him!"

The room monitors scampered off again, looking cowed. Cheslock breathed raggedly while Lydia snorted in fury, glaring at the crowd of frightened students and one irresponsible idiot. Of all things-!

"Cheslock! Give us a hand with these doors!" grunted one of the students currently trying to claw the massive doors open. "We can't touch the metal!" He jerked his fingers away before the sliding wood clamped shut on them.

The Purple House fag hurried over to the doors as the water-bearers drew nearer. He appraised them for a moment, then rolled his shoulder sideways and turned to Lydia. "All yours, mate."

"What's a bookworm from Blue House going to d-" the student started derisively, only to catch his words in his throat as Lydia strode forward, grasped the handle in her small fist, and hauled the door backward with huffs and groans of effort. She did not have to fake the strain upon her body- her right arm handled the weight just fine, but her torn leg which she had braced against the pavement was once again burning. Lydia shoved the door into the wall and staggered over to the other one. The Purple House students helped her push it open, then ran off to claim their own buckets, the one boy glancing back at her and muttering something that ended with the word 'freak.' Cheslock braced himself against the blast of smoke from inside, then began hollering toward the water-bearers, "Cover your faces and try not to inhale the smoke! Stay low to the ground! You! Cover your face! I mean it!"

Not knowing what to do, Lydia backed out of the way as the horde of students swarmed through the doors, staring in alarm into the fiery interior. She could actually see the flames from the front door. Deciding she had better bring some water as well, Lydia limped down the walkway toward wherever the line of boys were getting their buckets. She had made it halfway when she was grabbed from behind with such force that she was momentarily lifted off her feet. "You there!" a resounding voice boomed above her head. "You're a strong fellow, I see. Help us haul this barrow up the steps!"

The startled girl stared upward into a pair of stern green eyes, then turned her gaze to the hulking, wagon-like contraption he and several others were pushing toward the building. It was brim-full of water. Steeling herself, she nodded and braced her shoulder against the side of the huge cart while the Green House prefect did the same on the other side. The other students pushed from behind as they wheeled the cart turn-by-turn toward the entrance. Getting it up the steps was such hard work that none of them paid any mind to the sheets of water sloshing over the top and drenching their clothes. Lydia clamped her bandaged arm around the base of the wagon and lifted it just enough to roll the wheel over the top of each stone step. Despite her weakened state, she was impressed by Greenhill's ability to keep up with the pace she was setting. He truly was a paragon of athletic excellence. They reached the top with gasps of relief and proceeded to maneuver the barrow through the doors and down the smoke-filled hall. "We've got water right here!" Greenhill bellowed at the students returning from the head of the blaze.

With their water source inside the building, the boys did not have to cover nearly as much distance as they raced back and forth in focused determination, hurriedly throwing water on the flames which had nearly spread into the entrance hall. With those put out, they were able to work their way back down the hall toward the origin point of the blaze. Lydia found two buckets on the ground and was whisked along into the ceaseless line that cycled between the fire and the water barrow. She was glad no one was looking at her face, as she was sure it was contorting in pain each time she took a step with her right leg. Damn that red-haired man and his knife! Of all the nights she could have been injured, of course it had to be the one in which a major structure caught on fire. How on earth had the blaze started, anyway, Lydia wondered as she staggered toward the flames with full buckets for the umpteenth time. She had no evidence, of course, but could it have anything to do with Derrick Arden?

The flames made one last stand in a room toward the end of the hall, causing several boys to stagger backward from the intensity of the heat and smoke. "Keep low to the ground!" Lydia shouted their way. A moment later, she had to duck behind the student in front of her as one of the boys raised his head and turned around. She glimpsed fearful shock in the lit-up eyes of Gregory Violet as he strained to locate her familiar voice. One of the other boys pulled him down again, and she made it past him unseen.

Lydia was one of the last to empty her buckets over the tiny spurts of flame still burning. The fire seemed to have begun in a side room on the left end of the building. In the silence that followed the last flame's extinguishment, she stared around the torched room in dumbfounded exhaustion. The ceiling had collapsed, and one of the walls had as well. She could not even tell what this room had been used for anymore, although she could see the skeletons of melted sculptures and gutted paintings littering the floor. Lydia turned and looked at the others standing in the room, and for a moment they all shared a single gaze, as though asking one another if the fire was truly done with. One by one they turned away and silently retreated down the hall, uncovering their faces and scrubbing at the soot stains on their clothes. Lydia sighed heavily and turned to follow them, trying to keep as much weight as possible off her right leg. Something golden flashed before her eyes, and a tiny clinking sound at her feet made her stop.

Gazing downward, Lydia stooped over and picked up the object, squinting at it in puzzlement. It was a key. A plain, brass key that appeared to have just fallen from the sky-

Lydia glanced up through the missing ceiling on impulse. She could not help the scream that ripped itself suddenly from her lungs. Her right leg finally gave out, and Lydia hit the floor on her hip in a burst of dazed pain. Above her head, leaning down over the edge of the hole made by the cave-in, was the midnight-black specter. It tilted its head toward her as if she were a curiosity, like a falcon about to seize its prey….

"Hey! You there! Are you okay?"

Lydia's terrified eyes fell down to the approaching figure of Soma, his white shirt streaked with soot. The Indian youth observed her crumpled on the ground, and moved immediately through the rubble. "Ah, it's you! From Blue House, right? You'd better let me take you outside, you look like you've pushed yourself too hard. Breathed in too much smoke, I should say. Come on now, up you get…." He slung Lydia's arm over his shoulder and the brunette's head rolled back as he pulled her up, searching the gash in the ceiling for any sign of the obsidian nightmare. It was gone. Her heart was pounding so hard, she felt it would hammer its way right out of her chest. Her left hand clamped convulsively around the key. She leaned heavily on Soma as he walked slowly down the steps and over the lawn. "That was quite a rout, wasn't it? For a moment I thought the whole building would go up in flames! But we were able to protect everyone and save most of it in the end. Hey-" he glanced down worriedly at her listless figure. "Here now, I'll take you over to where my house is tending the injured. You'll want to have them look at your leg."

Lydia's mind was in too much turmoil to argue with him. Any plan that involved her finally sitting down sounded good to her. Soma brought her over to a small huddle of students and lowered her carefully into the grass. "We need some medical supplies over here!" he called, and someone called back in affirmative. A moment later, a flash of blonde cut across her vision and Edgar Redmond was kneeling beside her. The appearance of the Red House prefect surprised her momentarily out of her shock. When she had seen him lounging around on campus, she had assumed he was far too pretty and regal to ever involve himself in any sort of heavy lifting, as the expression went. However, in the face of Violet Wolf House's crisis, he seemed to have removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and joined his fellow classmates in tending to those injured while fighting the fire. His hands were cold as he tucked them under Lydia's trouser leg and lifted it. "I say, this is quite an injury. How did this happen to you?"

Lydia coughed and ducked her head. "Ah….the smoke….inside. I got….disoriented, and I….fell. I don't know what I struck my leg on."

"I see." Redmond bent lower over her calf. "Well, you've certainly done your part, lad, so just hold still while I inspect this…." Working with dexterous fingers, he removed her shoe and sock, which were soaked through with blood. The makeshift bandage had come off at some point, so the wound was gaping and exposed. Lydia cringed as she looked at it. The redhead's knife had not pierced her calf so much as torn it, meaning the wound was long instead of deep. It reached all around the rear of her calf, and it hurt. Soma supported her shoulders as Redmond soaked a washcloth in a bucket of water and began to clean the wound. She watched the Indian prince's hands to make sure they did not stray too low…. At least she had been stabbed in her leg, and not her chest. Legs were not particularly revealing of gender, especially not hers, which were muscular from many hours of trekking in the woods. She spotted some of the other housemasters directing the flow of students away from Purple House, and wondered if Sebastian was around. It would be helpful if she could alert him to her presence, but she did not see him…. She flinched at the washcloth's contact with her injured flesh.

"I know it hurts," Redmond murmured in a low, calming voice. "Just bear with it a little more….we'll get some bandages…." He lifted his eyes suddenly to her right arm. "What's this? Was this caused by the fire as well?"

Lydia shook her head, withdrawing her hand. "Um, no. That's….something I've had since childhood. It's perfectly fine."

"Redmond! We're clearing out here! We're going to move the rest of the injured students to the- ah!" The three people on the ground shifted their gaze up toward the voice of Edward Midford, who was striding toward them hurriedly. His eyes fell upon Lydia, and he faltered mid-stride and stared at her in shock. While the other two were watching him, the brunette pulled an urgent face, and he recovered himself just in time. "To the….to the main hall. We- ah!" His face spasmed again, then colored furiously as he observed Lydia's leg lying exposed upon the grass. While the nobleman sputtered, Lydia went to great pains to keep herself from blushing as well. A boy would not be embarrassed to have another boy touch his leg, especially not in these urgent circumstances….she had to put her modesty aside and behave as would be expected of a male.

Redmond tilted his head in puzzlement. "Midford, are you all right?"

Edward stared determinedly into the prefect's eyes, trying to narrow his range of vision as much as possible. "I- well- yes….I'm fine. I'm just a bit distraught in the face of all this chaos."

"Don't fret, the worst is over." Redmond assured, bending toward the medical kit at his side. "Now hold this lad's leg up for me while I bandage his wound."

"Aaaaauuuggghhhh!"

"Really, Midford! This boy is bleeding!" the Red House prefect barked authoritatively.

Edward flinched, and then, looking as though he might faint with mortification, took hold of the barest edge of Lydia's ankle and supported it while Redmond uncurled a swath of bandages from a metal ring. The Green House fag squeezed his eyes shut for a very long, awkward moment, before peeking quickly into Lydia's face. "Uuuummm….how are you doing….mate?"

"I'm all right," Lydia answered in her lower-toned male voice, causing Edward's eyebrow to twitch. "I just got myself a little injured in the fire. Do they….do they know how it started?"

"They do not," Edward replied while Redmond carefully compressed her wound and wrapped gauze tightly around it. "Although it seems they are suspecting arson."

"Arson!" Lydia exclaimed, almost forgetting to deepen her voice. "What have they-"

"Redmond!" a youthful cry rang out across the lawn. "The housemasters are calling for a meeting between themselves and the prefects right away!"

Redmond finished his work on Lydia's calf and patted it to make sure the gauze would hold. Satisfied, he stood up to greet his new fag, whose name Lydia did not recall. "Is that so? I'll be on my way, then. See that these injured boys make it back to their houses, Harcourt."

"I will-!" The younger boy nodded and cleared the way for Redmond, blushing slightly. His eyes moved past him to Lydia as Edward set her leg quickly but gently upon the ground. "Got hurt in the fire, did you? How terrible! Here, I'll help you up."

Lydia was still hiding her right hand behind her back, so he seized her left as he pulled her to her feet. His eyebrow raised in puzzlement as he opened their connected hands. "Oh? What's this?"

"Ah!" Lydia started, remembering the key and the reason she had it. "That's just….something of mine. I was making sure it hadn't fallen from my pocket in the fire."

Harcourt nodded, accepting her story without question, and Lydia wondered how she was going to shake him off long enough to get away before she reached Blue House. Fortunately, Edward stepped in. "Er, Harcourt, you can go and assist the others. I'll take this lad back to Blue House."

The young boy nodded in thanks and hurried toward the other figures sitting on the grass. Lydia gave Edward a tired smile as the Green House fag slung her arm over his shoulder and proceeded to guide her down the walkway. "I am so, so sorry for my improper conduct just now," he muttered under his breath.

Lydia couldn't help herself- in spite of everything, she gave a tiny laugh. "No harm done, Edward. I don't care about you touching my leg at a time like this."

"You shouldn't have taken such a risk-" the young man started to scold, before he cut off as Lydia paused in her unsteady gait. A few feet away stood a hooded figure, his back turned to them and his face buried in his hands. Even though he doing so very quietly, Lydia could tell he was weeping as he stared toward his smoldering house. She felt a pinprick in her heart. Poor Violet. Her first, thoughtless instinct was to comfort him- her right hand twitched as though to reach out and rest upon his shoulder- but she remembered herself a second later and retracted it. He knew her voice as the person who had broken into his room. And he knew her face as the girl whose hands he had drawn that day in the library. Even in his current distraught state, he might be able to piece the fragments together and realize her identity. Curling her hand into a fist, Lydia sighed and limped past him with Edward at her side. A minute later, the swell of a familiar tone up ahead caused her to lift her eyes. "Hey!" She waved her arm and flagged down the unruly figure of Cheslock, who was talking to another boy on the path. "You might, um, you might want to go over there and speak to Violet. I think he's quite upset."

The Purple House fag's eyes leaped through the crowd and settled on the lone figure standing miserably before the steps. "Ah-ha! There he is!" He whacked her firmly on the back, and Edward sputtered in indignation. "Thanks for everything, mate." He nodded once and rushed away.

"So….arson?" Lydia whispered to Edward as they pretended to be angling toward Blue House. "Do they have any idea who….?"

"No, not yet." The blonde boy whispered back. "But they think it was someone from outside Purple House. Students reported hearing the shattering of glass just before the fire started, and the charred remains of a lantern was found in the room where it originated."

"So someone threw a bloody lantern into Purple House- with everyone inside? Who would do something like that?" Lydia hissed, wincing as she brought her right foot down too hard. "And why?"

"No idea," Edward muttered darkly. "I know you were responsible for the break-in at Purple House earlier, but I knew you wouldn't have taken it this far, even before I saw you sitting on the lawn."

"I appreciate your faith in me," the brunette said honestly, gazing at the smoky moon above them.

Edward cleared his throat roughly. "Of course. I-"

"There you are!" a chipper voice sang out behind them. A moment later, the pair found themselves joined by the energetic figure of Soma, who took it upon himself to playfully sling Lydia's other arm over his shoulder so she was supported from both sides. "How's your leg?"

"What are you so happy about?" Edward questioned before she could reply. "Violet Wolf House has gone up in flames and the entire school is in an uproar!"

"I know, I know," the Indian prince grinned apologetically at the pair of them. "That's all bad news, for sure. But….don't you think this is at least a little bit nice?"

"What's nice?" Edward demanded.

"This," Soma spread his other arm around them at the crowds of students milling slowly down the pathway. "It's never been like this before. Red House and Blue House, Green House and Purple House, all working together to protect each other and achieve a common goal. That's a good thing, especially since all I've ever seen them do is fight about whose skill set is better. I'd like it if things could be like this more often, you know? Not including burning buildings, of course, but this…." The dark-skinned boy smiled innocently. "This is nice. Don't you two agree?"

Lydia and Edward peered hesitantly at each other. Edward grumbled something unintelligibly, and Lydia stared around them at the other students, the weariness of victory on everyone's faces. They had put out the fire. They had done their part. They had protected their school. And though it had happened in the most unexpected of circumstances, Lydia had finally come out of the background and engaged with the others, and for this moment….no one was looking at her as though she did not belong. They were just three young people striding arm in arm away from a battle well-fought. She gave the boys a sunrise kind of smile and clenched her fingers tightly around the key buried in her palm. "I do."