Disclaimers: I do not own either Gundam Wing or Harry Potter. I am making no money with this. This story is purely for
entertainment purposes only.
Notes: Duo goes to spend the summer with Quatre. Then a time skip. And the guys head to the station to catch their train.
Trowa runs into trouble.
Soldiers of Sorcery
Duo slowly pried his eyes open, once again feeling something cool and wet laying against his forehead. However, this time
when his eyes did focus, he found Trowa sitting on the edge of his bed, gently dabbing at his forehead with a washcloth. Duo
smiled a little, finding this to his liking. For some reason, he felt better waking up and seeing Trowa’s face, those glimmering
emerald eyes . . . he didn’t know why he enjoyed it though.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say hello, but found his throat to be parched. Trowa apparently noticed, since he helped Duo
into a sitting position, grabbing a glass of water from the bedside table and placing the edge to his chapped lips. Duo drank,
thankful for the refreshing way the water washed down his throat as he swallowed.
“How are you feeling?” Trowa asked, taking the empty glass away and setting it to the side again. He brushed the washcloth
along Duo’s face, only lightly pressing the cool surface to his heated skin.
“Not too good.” Duo admitted, lowering his gaze. “I’m tired.” Apparently Trowa had no idea that Duo had been watching him
last night . . . it was a great relief to Duo. He didn’t want his friend to know that he had been spying on him during so private a
“I'm afraid I must apologize to you.” Trowa whispered, lowering his gaze, a bashful rosy tint coloring his cheeks.
Duo had to admit that he was curious. “What could you possibly have to apologize for, Trowa? If anyone should be
apologizing, it should be me. I am the one who threw up all over your hotel room.”
“Well, when I put you to bed . . . um . . . I removed your clothes thinking that you would be more comfortable without them.”
Trowa replied, his blush darkening substantially.
Duo blinked, then lifted the blankets that were covering him. Well, he was nude, but for once he wasn’t terrified of being naked
when someone else was around. He trusted Trowa. Perhaps it was because of last night and the fact that Duo had witnessed
Trowa’s own demons haunting him in his dreams, or maybe for some other reason. Either way, he trusted Trowa now and felt
no ill will toward the other young man.
“It’s okay, Trowa. I understand you were thinking of my best interests and not my body. I-I trust you, Trowa.” Duo said,
Trowa smirked a bit, raising his gaze. He opened his mouth, looking to be getting ready to say something. However, before he
could speak, they heard a knock coming from the door. Trowa stood, striding out of the room. A moment later, Duo was
surprised to see as Trowa returned with Rasid by his side.
“Master Quatre sent me to bring you to the plane, Mr. Maxwell.” Rasid said, bowing.
“He’s not feeling well, Rasid.” Trowa said, standing a few paces away from the large man. He looked very uncomfortable with
Rasid’s presence, but then again so did Duo.
“I see.” Rasid said, stepping forward. He gently placed his hand along the side of Duo’s face, frowning when he felt the fever.
He stood upright again, then pulled something from a bag he had been carrying at his side. Duo saw that it was a simple pair of
sweat pants. “Master Quatre thought you would appreciate a change of clothes. However, I feel that you should have a bath
before dressing . . . it would do you good.”
Without waiting for Duo’s response, Rasid grabbed the blankets and tossed them aside. He quickly lifted Duo from the bed,
despite his weak protests. Obviously, Rasid was used to dealing with Quatre. When the blonde was sick, he probably didn’t
put up any fuss about getting help. However, Duo wasn’t like that. Being naked and in the arms of a man much larger than
him, left him feeling scared and vulnerable. Even though he knew that Rasid was an ally, he was fearful that he might try to
take advantage of him in his weakened state.
Duo beat his hands on Rasid’s chest, begging to be put down. The man ignored him though, walking out of the bedroom and
toward the bathroom. Duo shuddered, looking for Trowa, needing help. “Please, Trowa . . .” He pleaded in a weak whimper,
casting a desperate look toward his friend in the hope that he would understand.
Trowa nodded and stepped forward, although he looked quite uncomfortable himself. “If you don’t mind, Rasid . . . perhaps I
should handle this.” Trowa suggested.
Rasid turned to Trowa, looking him over for a few moments. In the end he did hand Duo over to Trowa. Then he bowed
respectfully. “As you wish, Mr. Barton. If you need me, I will be waiting outside. Call me when he is ready to leave.”
“Yes, of course.” Trowa replied. Then he turned and headed into the bathroom, carrying Duo gently. Duo could swear that he
felt Trowa’s body trembling, but shrugged it off as his own imagination.
A short time later, Duo was clean, dry and dressed in fresh garments. He had allowed Trowa to braid his hair, not having felt
up to doing it himself. Trowa had been timid at first, but he had brushed the strands well. He hadn’t pulled even one hair too
roughly, treating the snags delicately and with the utmost care. Duo almost fell asleep . . . Trowa was just brushing so gently.
It was a wonderful delight. It calmed him greatly feeling Trowa’s slender fingers brushing his scalp, weaving through his
tresses as he braided it.
Duo was disappointed when Trowa was done. No one had ever brushed his hair like that before. Of course, he had never let
anyone but Sister Helen or Solo brush his hair before. They were both dead, by Duo’s doing. That thought crushed the
enjoyment that Duo had felt and he sighed, accepting Trowa’s help in standing when it was given to him.
Trowa led Duo out of the bedroom, allowing him to sit in a chair while he gathered what was left of Duo’s belongings in the
room. He got Midnight back into her cage, moving unsurely and gently as he handled her. He packed the clothes that Duo had
been wearing the night before into the bag that Duo had brought.
Then he helped Duo up again. Trowa wrapped one arm around Duo’s waist, picking up the cage and bag with his other hand
and walked over to the door. “Rasid.” He called out a few steps away, pausing as the man opened the door. “You take these, I’
ll bring Duo down.” Trowa said, handing over Midnight’s cage and the bag.
Rasid nodded, taking what was offered. Duo was grateful that Trowa hadn’t just handed him over to Rasid. Trowa swept Duo
into his arms, then followed Rasid. Duo sighed, allowing his head to rest on Trowa’s shoulder, feeling so very tired. He was
too tired to argue about not being allowed to walk, besides he didn’t mind being carried by Trowa all that much. He found that
he liked being in Trowa’s arms, not truly understanding why he could feel that way though when all he had felt before in his life
was fear at the prospect of being held by another man.
Duo hadn’t been aware that he had drifted off to sleep, until he was jostled being transferred over from Trowa’s arms into
Rasid’s. Duo frowned, fighting to keep silent as the larger man cradled him like an infant. He looked up at Trowa, biting his lip
and unsure of what to say.
“Rasid’s going to take you to Quatre now. Have fun and get well.” Trowa said, briefly clasping Duo’s hand and offering a
brief hint of comfort.
Duo nodded, forcing a smile onto his face. “I will. See you on September first.”
Trowa smirked, closing the door of the limo. He stood on the curb, waiting while the vehicle pulled away. Duo could see him
through the window, and watched as the tall youth waved to him slightly. He just stood there on the sidewalk, Duo didn’t see
him leave. When they were out of sight, Duo set his head down on Rasid’s shoulder, a faint hint of fear still tormenting him as
he slipped into a tentative slumber.
When he awakened again, he was being helped onto a shuttle. Quatre was already onboard, looking quite tired. Boy, there were
a pair. Quatre was weakened from sensing negativity and Duo was ill from months of living on the streets. Neither were strong
enough to walk and both had to depend on others for help. At least Duo couldn’t feel too bad if he would be recovering at one
of Quatre’s estates. He had always loved staying with the kind Arabian, enjoying his hospitality and generosity.
Quatre was one of the rare few that Duo hadn’t felt totally uncomfortable around. Still, Duo guarded his secrets around the
blonde, not letting him in, keeping his past from him. He didn’t want to lose Quatre as a friend, and he didn’t want him feeling
sorry for him.
When they arrived at Quatre’s estate, both Duo and Quatre were quickly shown to their rooms and told to remain there. Quatre
of course disobeyed the first chance he got. He snuck into Duo’s room, yawning innocently as he climbed into Duo’s bed.
Duo was too tired to put up an argument, so allowed his friend to share his company, knowing that nothing would happen when
Quatre was so tired anyway. The two of them fell asleep rather quickly, nestled in each others’ arms.
The months passed by rather quickly and soon the seven of them found it was time to head back to London to catch their train
on time at King’s Cross. Relena resigned from her position in the government, giving her reasons for leaving as personal.
Dorothy simply quietly left home one day, not telling anyone where she was going. Wufei sold his martial arts school, feeling a
trace of regret as he signed it over. Heero packed all of his belongings and sublet his apartment, storing anything he felt he
would not need at Hogwarts in a long-term storage facility.
Quatre of course was escorted back to London by all of his sisters and the Maguanac. Duo was also with him, although he felt
out of place surrounded by all of Quatre’s loving family. He had no one to wish him off on the trip. It didn’t matter all that
much though, since it meant that he also didn’t have someone to miss while he was away at school. He and Quatre were quite
healthy by then. Quatre was his energetic self and Duo had his jester’s mask firmly back in place. They all found hotel rooms
and waited for the first of September to come around.
However, things did not go so easily for Trowa. He had put off telling Catherine of the fact that he would be attending
Hogwarts until the very last minute, afraid of her reaction. He had witnessed how much she didn’t like wizards already, and
was quite nervous about whether or not she would do something irrational when he told him that he was going to go.
It was late in August when he finally got up the nerve to approach her, and by then he already had his trunk packed and loaded
in the back of his truck. If there was trouble, all he would have to do was get in his truck and drive off. He already had the
keys in the ignition and Max was waiting in the passenger’s seat.
Catherine was waiting for him just where he had told her to meet him, behind the lion cages. He had always felt comfortable in
the presence of the lions and now he wanted to feel the comfort they provided him.
“What did you want to see me about Triton?” She asked, smiling at him. Trowa had agreed to the blood test, hoping that if it
was true and she was related that she wouldn't hate him so much for attending Hogwarts. He really was her brother, a fact he
hoped would help him now.
“Catherine . . . it’s about Hogwarts.” Trowa said, approaching her cautiously.
She sighed, looking disgusted at the chosen subject. “Why bring up that stupid school? It’s not as if you are attending that
ridiculous place.” She replied, waving her hand dismissively.
“Actually, I am attending.” Trowa stated.
Catherine narrowed her gaze, anger seeping from her every breath. “I can’t believe a brother of mine would go to such a
abominable place! They teach nothing but rubbish, foolish nonsense that will turn you into something disgusting!” Catherine
yelled, gaining the attention of a few of their fellow troupe members.
“I’m going Catherine. I’ve already bought my supplies.” Trowa replied.
Catherine did not react well to this news. She pulled back her hand, slapping him harshly across the face, cutting his cheek
open with a ring she was wearing. Trowa could have easily avoided or blocked the strike, but he felt that she had needed to get
that out of her system. “No brother of mine is going to that wizards’ school!” She said, her tone commanding.
Hands gripped Trowa’s arms and he turned, feeling a growing wave of fear radiate from the pit of his stomach. This did not
look good. It seemed the entire troupe was here to back Catherine up. The manager and lion tamer were currently holding
Trowa’s arms, keeping him trapped in one place.
“I-I’m going. You can’t stop me, Catherine.” Trowa said, hating the way that his voice wavered. He couldn’t help it though . .
. people were touching him and he had never felt comfortable with human contact.
Catherine merely turned away, allowing herself to be pushed aside as another stepped in front of Trowa. Trowa didn’t even
have time to look and see who it was before a fist collided with his stomach, finding all the air rushing out of him rather rapidly.
His legs buckled beneath him, but he didn’t fall. No, he was being held up by people he had once considered friends. He was
being betrayed by those he had trusted.
One by one, the entire troupe took their turns. Each one hit Trowa, some of them several times in a row. In the stomach, the
face, the legs and chest . . . they left no place untouched not even his groin. He was beginning to lose his senses when he
became aware that the crowd had parted in front of him. He looked up, his vision blurred by the blood that ran through his eyes
from his various injuries, his body weak and tired.
Trowa inhaled sharply, seeing Catherine at the center of the parted group. She raised her arm, a glittering of light reflecting off
of something silver. Trowa realized what it was too late. He weakly tried to pull his arms free, watching in horror as she pulled
her arm back and aimed. It was no use though, he was too tired to get free, and Catherine threw her knife.
Trowa gasped, darkness invading his vision for a moment as pain radiated from the side of his body. He looked down at
himself, his eyes widening at the sight of a dagger’s hilt protruding from his left side, just below his ribs. Her aim had been
perfect, injuring him severely without puncturing any major organs. If this was treated properly, he wouldn’t die from it, but
Trowa had no intention of seeking medical attention.
A hand grasped Trowa’s bloody chin, forcing his gaze up. His eyes met with Catherine’s angry and hurt gaze. She spit in his
face, roughly yanking her dagger from his body. “You're not my brother, Trowa Barton. Triton Bloom just died in my heart
forever.” She hissed, slapping him once again. “Go to your school. I never want to see you again.” With that said, she turned
away, her hand raising up to wipe away her tears as she left him.
The rest of the troupe followed her. Trowa’s arms were released and he dropped to the ground in a pain-filled heap. He had
been right not to trust people, he knew that now. No one was good, everyone was out to hurt him. His own sister had let him
get beaten harshly and then had stabbed him. He shuddered, pressing his hand to the stab wound in his side, forcing himself to
get up. Groggily, he stumbled over to his truck and opened the door.
He clambered in, pulling the door shut behind him. A moment later he collapsed to his side, too weak to move, losing blood as
he lay there. He just wanted to sleep, but he knew that he couldn’t. Max nudged his face and Trowa groaned in pain, raising
his hand to weakly pet his friend, even though he knew that he would leave blood on his fur. “You want me to get up, huh?”
Trowa said, his voice slurred by pain and the blood dribbling from his lips.
Max nudged him again. Trowa got the idea . . . he had to do something about his injuries, had to help himself before he could
fall asleep. Trowa nodded, forcing himself to rise to a sitting position. He took hold of the steering wheel, blinking away his
dizziness, as he turned the key in the ignition. Within minutes he had driven away from the circus he had known as home,
heading down a highway to somewhere unknown. He was focusing mainly on staying awake and not driving himself into a
However, he did find a motel eventually. It was a seedy looking dive and when Trowa checked in, the man behind the counter
didn’t ask a single question. Trowa looked like he had just gone through a meat grinder and the man hadn’t even raised an
eyebrow in curiosity. He didn’t care that Trowa was bleeding to death, as long as Trowa paid a very large security deposit in
advance to pay for the cost of cleaning the room after he left. Trowa just handed the money over and took the guy’s first aid
kit, grabbing his key and went to his room. He stopped by his truck on the way and picked up his own first aid kit, feeling that
he would probably need all the supplies he could get right now, also taking his backpack with him. The backpack contained a
couple changes of clothes, something that Trowa was sure he would need in the morning. The clothes that he was wearing
now were covered in blood and would no longer be any use to him.
Once inside his room, he let Max in and locked the door behind them. He forced himself to remain conscious as he cleaned and
bandaged all oh his injuries himself. He even stitched up the wound on his side, not caring if a scar was left, as long as he
wouldn’t bleed to death in the night. He had practice with stitching up wounds, as a mercenary he had tended to many of his
group when they had been injured. Now he was applying his knowledge to treating himself.
As soon as he was sure that he wouldn’t die in the night, Trowa stripped off what was left of his clothing and climbed into bed.
Max curled up beside him, purring as Trowa swung an arm around the feline’s body. He was in the nude, but was too tired to
care. However, he did leave the fingers of one hand curled around the loaded gun under his pillow, hoping that his senses
wouldn’t be impaired by his injuries. He quickly fell asleep, hoping that he wouldn’t wake up too late in the day. He did have to
get to London soon and to King’s Cross . . . the first was quickly approaching.
To Be Continued . . .