… I can't believe I'm actually doing this. I honestly have abandoned this story; I have no plot or motivation to continue it and I honestly don't even remember what it was about. But then why am I updating after over three years of stasis?
Because of you, the readers. Only recently, I started digging through some old reviews and a few managed to pluck that little chord in me that made me want to continue this story not for my own enjoyment, but because I know the reviewers want it. And just because of that, I'm going to try. I'm making this up as I go now, but I'm going to try. But I'm not going to lie: I have no idea where this is going.
It was Halloween, the Great Hall decorated in its customary hovering pumpkins, candles glimmering and glistening from their hollowed shells. Candles mingled in the air, not doubt courtesy of Professor Flitwick. A giant pumpkin sat in one corner of the hall which Hagrid had dragged in earlier that day despite an offer from Yugi to help with a charm.
Yugi laughed as he sat next to Draco, smiling mirthfully at Blaise Zabini's story. His hair was swept up in it's usually style, the colors a tone darker in the poor lighting. A fork rested in one hand, have poised for a slice of pumpkin pie. Draco sat on his side, his mouth turned upward into the lightest smile as he watched Yugi laugh and smile.
And across the hall, another set of eyes, a bright emerald grin watched too, his eyes tracing shimmering blond of a Dragon while the innocent laugh of a friend rang in his ears.
:Don't you have essays to be grading?:
Yugi glared at the sphinx, looking more like a ruffed up porcupine than intimidating. He glanced down spitefully at the stack of papers he needed to grade by the next weekend, and the back up at the lounging sphinx by the window sill. :I don't wanna,: he whined childishly with a pout.
Nerfertiti laughed, the sound coming out light and musical, as though gold powder dancing in a warm summer breeze. :But you'll have to grade them eventually, Master Yugi. Putting it will only make it worse later,: she chastised, jumping down from her perch, her wings folded back and the golden fur glistening in the afternoon sun. Her paws ghosted across the cold, stone floor, as though she floated over the surface instead of walking. :Work, Master Yugi,: she said as she approached the young boy at his desk. :And then play.:
:I hate it when you're right.:
Nefertiti just laughed again, mirth shining from the upturned corners of her mouth as she waited, content on watching her young charge grade and curse as she took her afternoon nap.
"—while not particularly venomous nor innately predatory, the sun-spotted Mandilian was seen as a threat…"
Yugi stifled a yawn, trying to keep his eyes focused on his parchment which was half filled with lazily scrolled notes. He tried to force his eyelids from drooping, prodding his arm lightly with the nip of his quill to keep himself awake.
Yugi had respect for Professor Binns, as both a teacher and a colleague, and he undoubtedly believed that the ghost professor knew and enjoyed his topic. History was a hard topic to make the students interested in, something Yugi knew from experience in both Hogwarts and in Japan. Most students cared little for history, finding the knowledge useless for practical daily basis.
Yugi was not on of them. He loved history, both ancient and modern, an understandable obsession when taken his experience into count. He had honestly believed that it was hard to make history unexcitedly, seeing history as a vision into the future, of what it can, will, and may be.
But even Yugi had to admit that Professor Binns managed to make such a topic dull and lifeless, his never-ending monotone reciting the lesson verbatim with little attention to his students. Yugi, however, did not wish to fault the professor, respecting the ghost as both a teacher and a colleague. The man was dead after all, and Yugi did not try to even imagine the circumstances the ghost was under.
Despite that, Yugi still had to keep himself from falling asleep.
Draco leaned to the side slightly from Yugi's left as he started to droop, poking the tri-colored hair boy roughly with his quill, the sharp edge dulled to a soft nudge through the layers of Yugi's school robe. Yugi shot the Malfoy a thankful smile, which was only returned with playful smirk.
Ever since that evening by the lake, they had reached a sort of tentative friendship—a friendship that involved the endless patience of Yugi and the occasional groping and/or make-out sessions. Yugi felt a brief pang of guilt at the thought. He was using Draco; he would not deny it, to forget about Yami. His heart would always be with his darkness, it was inevitable for it to lie elsewhere. Despite knowing this, Yugi couldn't help but still feel the occasional pain from his dark's negligence. It'd been a few months only that he'd left Domino and while he was moving on, it was slow.
The guilt lessened only slightly as he thought about his plan. Maybe, in a few months time, he could get Harry and Draco together. They needed each other, perhaps like he and Yami had once needed each other.
Yugi stared blankly at his paper, his hand stopping mid-sentence of copying down the tedious and ultimately irrelevant notes. Harry had hard times coming, there was no doubt. Voldemort had been growing bolder recently, and more than once Harry had some down to breakfast tired and restless, gray bags hanging under his eyes as a sign of his insomnia. Draco likewise, had been restless, though Yugi had done his best to comfort the young Malfoy heir. He was still, with good reason, reluctant to take the mark, though he had yet to summon the courage to reply to his father with such a blatant refusal.
The ink at the end of his quill pooled onto the parchment, leaving a small blotch of ink in the center of the paper as Yugi thought, his mind no longer focused on his classes. He had until Christmas break, Yugi remembered, to find a way out. Yugi wasn't that familiar with this world yet, though he had tried to find a reason, an excuse, to get the young Dragon out of the commitment.
Yugi had less than a month left to research, and despite spending the majority of his free time scouring the library for information, his search had come p futile. He had read part articles involving the Dark Lord, scanning information ranging from twenty years past to the propaganda filled Daily Prophet of today. He had delved briefly into the Restricted Section under the guise of research for this seventh year classes before hurrying out, the musty ominous present of the books sending chills down his spine. Normally, the Dark Arts would not have been given another look from Yugi, but the books radiated a malevolent feel, a feeling that he could not banish from his mind. His mind, his heart, his body had hated it, the sheer evil of the volumes grasping and choking his light.
So, with a barely month left before Draco's supposed initiation, Yugi was left with dead ends, a jumpy Dragon, and the wish for a nap as Binns droned on, his works lost to the young Japanese as he sat and contemplated what he wished and what he couldn't do.
Classes were going well.
At least Yugi hoped that they were going well. After the first shaky month of his students, particularly the Slytherins and Gryffindors, trying to kill one another, the rest of the month had proceeded smoothly. Or as smoothly as Yugi could ever hope.
He shuffled the stack of essays on his desk, straightening the edges so they aligned into a neat stack as he sat down exhausted into his chair. He leaned back against the wooden frame, tempted to kick his feet up onto the desk. Instead, he just heaved a sigh, running a pale hand through his hair.
Draco and Harry were still being stubborn, exceedingly so. Yugi hadn't expected his little game of matchmaker to work miracles after only a few weeks, yet he had hoped that the two would catch the hint; Yugi had only paired them together for every activity they had done so far in class.
But he knew what one of the major problems was: himself. He wouldn't deny that involuntarily, Yugi had caught their eyes, at least in terms of physical attraction. Yugi would also admit he had not turned down their shy and likely unconscious advances. Yugi told himself that maybe if he helped them realize their sexuality (though in Draco's case, this was a rather mute point considering the kiss by the lake) they would finally see that the best partner was just in front of them.
But deep inside, Yugi couldn't help but feel selfish and cruel, enjoying the attention and the distraction. He hated it, his own weakness and his own selfish desires.
Yugi gave another sigh, dropping his hand into his lap, fittingly idly with the pocket hem of his robe as he thought. Then again, those two likely believed that Yugi was just attempting 'heal the rift' between the two, though the rift was closer to a chasm. Yugi fingered the stitching of his robe, running his forefinger along the small ridges of the thread. Despite the constant fighting between the two, he knew there was something between them, a rivalry that sparked something. Yugi could practically see it in the air when they were near one another, the tingling of passion, of mistaken hate, or something else.
The fighting should keep them together, not keep them apart. Jou and Seto had been the same, the fighting, the sniping, and the obsolete denial that they were perfect for one another.
Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were the same.
'Then again,' Yugi thought, finally straightening from his slouched posture and grabbing a spare quill and a bottle of red ink, 'Jou and Seto had been pretty damn stubborn too.'
The moon shone through a nearby window, half-full and half-covered in clouds. The recent winter snow had left the sky a dark gray, the azure tone of the sky muted by the clouds. Despite the weak moonlight, the school grounds shone, lit up by the glaring reflection of the snow.
Draco crushed his lips against Khelil's, slamming the pair against the harsh stonewalls of the hallway. A late night return to the common room from a joint detention with Potter had left him infuriated and annoyed. It had been luck that he had ran into Khelil on the way back to the common room, needing his friend and part-time boyfriend (if he could call it that) to rant to about the indignities of McGonagall to give him not only detention, but a joint detention with The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die.
The subsequent rant had somehow ended up in an impromptu make-out session in the hallway. How and why, Draco was unsure, but as he pressed a hand against Khelil's hip that elicited a throaty moan, he wasn't quite sure if he cared.
Khelil wrapped his arms around Draco's neck, threading his fingers through the platinum blond locks. Draco had left it loose again, letting it brush the nape of his neck instead of gelling it back and away from his face. Khelil claimed it looked better this way, though Draco was still dubious, unused to the soft locks brushing against his face and shoulders.
Draco pulled back from the kiss, taking a fresh breathe of air as he glanced at the smaller boy. Khelil's cheeks' were flushed a light pink and his breathing came out light and shallow as he craned his neck up slightly to look at Draco. He gave a smile as he ran his hand through Draco's hair and then done his neck, finally brushing his fingers against the lapels of his school robe.
Khelil really was beautiful, Draco thought. He was different, almost exotic. Draco brushed Khelil's blond bangs away from his eyes that were glistening in the weak moonlight that filtered in from the window. They were soulful, expressive, and willing, unlike any Draco had ever seen. Sometimes he would wonder why Khelil was placed in Slytherin, the soft and honest boy seeming more suited for Hufflepuff.
It hurt sometimes that Draco seemed to know so little about the person he would call a friend. The Sorting hat doesn't lie, and if Khelil was placed in Slytherin, he was a Slytherin. Regardless, it must take real skill, real cunning, to be so un-Slytherin yet still be at the same time.
"Draco?" Khelil said, noticing the blonde's pragmatic pause and his glossy eyes as they stared at his palely illuminated face. His voice was soft and lofty, concerned but not prying as he spoke, his hand playing with the growing ends of Draco's hair.
Draco gave a weak smile in return, a true smile but weak nonetheless. He had two weeks of freedom left before he'd either be hunted by a Dark Lord or selling his soul to one, and he was going to use the time to enjoy life. He knew Khelil had been trying to help, but Draco knew there was no way out. One did not refuse the Dark Lord if one wished for them, and their families, to live. "Nothing," he replied, leaning closer to his shorter teacher, leaving a hair's breathe between their lips.
Khelil looked at him knowingly and tucked a strand of hair behind Draco's ear, his breathe evening into a whisper. He smiled though, sad yet encouraging, and moved their lips together again. Khelil always knew, always, and Draco never could find out how or why.
And Draco sighed mentally as he leaned down into the kiss. Khelil Sef was a mystery, and Draco wondered if he'd always be.
I told you I had no idea what I was doing. I wasn't lying. But at least it's something? Dunkeelmepleaz. If I do update again, it'll be sporadic and in this similar format. Meaning from now on, this story will just be a series of snapshots that take place a few weeks with a vague outline of stuff stringing it along.
Oh God, I haven't written for the YGO fandom in years. I dun even remember what the characters were like so that that should explain any OOC. If my HP characters are out of whack, that's just because I don't remember how I characterized them in previous chapters. (On another note, I wrote this in about an hour. Speed writing, baby.)
And again, this chapter is only written and up because of all my wonderful reviewers of the last few years. I love you all, and while I know this chapter isn't up to standards of what you wanted, I still hope you enjoyed it.