Crave

The summer heat in Yokohama burned into Dazai’s skin as he trudged toward the riverside. Ever since that fateful job dealing with Dumbledore, Mori had continued piling jobs onto his already existing workload that came with being an executive. Each job more bloody than the last.

This one would make twenty seven bodies slain by his hand. It kept his mind occupied. The look on the faces of those he killed. The way they were posed as they bled out before him or their screams begging him to stop. His brain repeated the scenes over and over, day after day. But his demeanor remained cold, for Mori would never tolerate such a weakness.

So, he ended up by the river more often than not, the water reflecting in his single eye. It beat going back to his newly moved-into storage container that he now resided in. His room in the tower had been revoked three weeks ago. His own recklessness was to blame. He’d failed to take down a witness. Of course he had tracked them down upon finding out, but there were still consequences. Two days in the kennel and losing the right to an actual room. After his stay in the kennel, Mori treated his wounds and Hirotsu accompanied Dazai to the container.

The container was…not the worst thing ever. It had been mostly clean and had a small bed in the back corner. That was more than enough for Dazai. With all his new executive work, he would barely be there anyway.

Yet the container was what brought Dazai to his current spot. It was boiling during this heatwave and the water reminded him of something he longed so deeply for, but could not have.

The sweet embrace of death was tantalizing as he looked out over the river’s bridge. Mori would just fix him up again, and the thought of the slimy bastard touching him any more than he has to makes him shudder.

Mori would probably chastise him, calling his antics a waste of his time. The man has been busy with both being boss, and overseeing Kouyou’s work with the Department of Education. He didn’t have time to keep fixing him up.

That was alright. Mori being busy was a good thing. Dazai had more time to roam, and the man hadn’t forced him to dress-up in quite some time. He supposes it might be due to his recent growth spurt, he’s grown a few centimeters in the past two months and his regular mafia clothing already had to be replaced. The only part of his former wardrobe remaining was Mori’s coat. It had come to fit him better, but it was still a nuisance that it was too big.

He sighed, shaking away his thoughts. There was no use lamenting about the past. Only the future, and Mori’s plans for him.

His cellphone began to ring, a loud chirp coming from his pocket. Ah, speaking of the devil.

“What do you want?”

“Is that any way to speak to me, Dazai? Your attitude will only be cute for so long. I need to discuss some matters with you. Please hurry along, I don’t want to wait.”

“Yes, boss.”

And with that, the phone call ended. Dazai had a sneaking suspicion this chat may involve a certain magical school. The time to return was creeping up on them, and no mention had been made yet.
He dragged his feet up to stand, and sighed once more. Mori is always such a pain.

————————————————————————

An escaped murderer was the last thing Severus needed to worry about. The horrendously long hours spent in the magical courts dealing with the fallout from the petrifications was already tiring enough. It brought about too much grief seeing the evidence. Watching helplessly as the court picked apart the deaths.

Severus never enjoyed children in pain. He may not have always shown it, but he did care about their well being. The deaths of his students meant failure, even if it wasn’t one of his snakes.

And then came the issue of Poppy’s death. With no next of kin, the only ones in attendance at her funeral were teachers of Hogwarts. Severus and Minerva had spent the day sitting at the foot of her grave after that. Sharing the few happy memories that they had with the women. Before he left he’d vowed to her that he would protect their troubled student. He had every intention of it.

Of course, there was only one person missing from the funeral. One Albus Dumbledore had not answered any attempts at contact or any letters from Minerva requesting his advice on matters of running the school.

When he had missed out on seeing Poppy one final time, Minerva and Severus had promptly apparated to his residence. If Severus was furious, Minvera was downright murderous. She’d gone on a tangent, angry the man would avoid them at a time like this. She apparated away, no words spoken on her destination, but Severus was hot on her heels. The sight that greeted them was …sickening.

Albus’ home, if it could still be called that, was charred. Only half the house was still standing. Minerva had moved quickly into the wreckage and Severus once again followed. A barely recognizable corpse greeted them. A bullet wound to the face had left him disfigured, and dried blood covered the surrounding area that remained unburned.

They had immediately called the Ministry. His death would no doubt be crushing, no matter what had been going on with his status as Headmaster. His opinion was still valued by many influential families. Severus wished to look into the cause of death further, but aurors had determined he had killed himself. That he was bitter over losing his long-held position. They found nothing suspicious even considering he had killed himself with a muggle gun that couldn’t be found. The cause of the burning could not be determined though they had decided he had set the house on fire himself. With no one around for miles, there would be no one to stop the blaze. Severus could do nothing more as the case was archived to the Department of Mysteries.

Both the accidental deaths of those petrified and Albus’ so-called suicide filled the front pages of the Daily Prophet. Everyday new speculations came out and while Severus was relieved the press had pulled back on the stories about a certain problem child, the cost simply wasn’t worth it. He had lost his friend, and while he may not have agreed with everything Albus did, he certainly believed the man had more to give to the wizarding world.

With both Poppy, Albus, and fortunately Lockhart gone, things were left in a very delicate state. Lockhart claimed he was putting his life in danger teaching at such a school. Minerva had yelled at the man about his behavior and banned the man from returning either way, leaving the Defense against the Dark Arts position empty once more. Poppy and Albus’ deaths left parents wary. While Minerva was certainly capable at protecting the students, some parents felt their children would be better off at Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. Where danger didn’t lurk around them every year.

They also felt Minerva would not be able to offer as high quality of an education as she once would have. Teaching and running the school would be difficult, but she had told Severus she just could not leave behind her life’s work. So transfiguration would still be hers to cover for the time being.

The DADA and matron position were not as hard to fill as any of the staff thought it would have been.
Remus Lupin had come to Minerva eagerly seeking to fill the Defense position. It had left Minerva surprised but not unhappy. The man was well-educated and it didn’t hurt that he was a former student of hers. She had ensured to Severus that Lupin had wished for nothing more than to teach the children of Hogwarts who had gone through so much already. He willingly took the veritaserum she had encouraged as well. She had faith in the man, but Severus was hesitant. Their shared past and his unfortunate were-wolf tendencies were nothing to scoff at. Severus knew the man had his other self under control, but the idea still made him nervous. Nobody needed any serious injuries this year.

The matron role also filled shockingly fast. A young woman who had attended Ilvermorny in the United States applied for a role hoping to study abroad. That was “good-enough” according to Minerva. The spot would never fill and she was desperate.

Then there was Sirius Black. The recently escaped Azkaban prisoner was one of the more pressing problems. What could he want after escaping? To bring back Voldemort? To murder his only living friend left? If that was the case, Severus would remove Lupin from the school grounds himself. Was Sirius Black most likely just a raving lunatic? Severus prayed that was the case.

One final part of him has been left aching these past few days. The part of him that regrets not having much time to look into Dazai Osamu’s adoption despite his thoughts surrounding the boy during the early summer. He’d left the boy to the wolves of the mafia, and he hates to admit it, but the boy had been the least of his problems.

His worst action was inaction. He had made no attempts at contact. Minerva had sent out the letter with his required materials, and a request for a response back if the child were not returning. She had no response come through though.

Severus supposes this should worry him, but Poppy had discovered that the address Albus and he had visited two years ago was a false one, and no one truly knew where the boy lived. There was no point searching either. The mafia had the boy’s information under lock and key. Severus only hoped he would be seeing the boy again come the first of September. Then he could begin his plans.

———————————————————————-

“I hear your mission has gone well, hmm? Although it would be good to hear your voice tell me that yourself.”
Dazai rolled his eyes at that.

“Not my fault you’re always up to something. Do you have anything new planned for me or are we just wasting my time now?” He began flipping the coin from his pocket. He kept his gaze on it, not daring to stare the man in front of him in the eyes. The coin would land on tails.

“I thought we had spoken about your lack of respect, Shuuji? This behavior is most unbecoming of a boy your age,” the man’s tone was burning. He was displeased. But that’s what Dazai wanted. The man would have to deal with feeling the way he always made him feel.

“I thought I told you my name was Dazai? You’ve been using it so well up until now, you’d think I’d have trained you,” he trailed off flipping the coin once again. Heads.

The man suddenly leaned forward grabbing his wrist and twisting upward. A pop and gasp filled the air. The coin fell to the floor with a light pinging noise and the force of Mori’s movement shook his desk between the two. Dazai’s wrist had been crushed in the man’s grip, making the dislocation more painfully noticeable.

The two stared at each other for a moment. A stalemate. But the older man had leverage in this situation, and the stand-off was broken.
Mori dropped his wrist and pushed Dazai back down into his chair.

“You disrespect me, I’ll do the same right back. Such a pity it takes so much for you to learn.”

“I was just messing around…” Dazai mumbled. He held his thin wrist in his lap ignoring the pulsing feeling radiating from the joint. The man continued without missing a beat, ignoring his words.

“That little school of yours has contacted me about your third year. I haven’t decided whether or not to respond to them about your attendance just yet. That all depends on you. Will you cooperate with me?”

He was gripping Dazai’s chin now. The move, normally meant to be affectionate, always left Dazai feeling disgusting.

“Yes.” He hates the word. Yes, yes, yes. It’s all he could ever answer recently. But he wanted to see his subordinates again.

“I was worried you might say no! Then where would we be, Dazai? After that little letter you tried to hide from me I was worried you may be plotting against me with your little grunts. Good to see I still have your loyalty.”

Ah. The letter from Blaise. He made good on his promise and sent it the week after everyone had left Hogwarts. Nothing more mundane than a few simple questions. He’d asked how he was. If he had any plans for the summer. No mention of the mafia or their murder of Madam Pomfrey.

Mori didn’t see it that way. Now these not-friends were writing to him in an all too friend-like manner and that was too much for the boss.

Mori had burned the letter. He’d banned Dazai from communicating with anyone from Hogwarts the rest of the summer. Dazai had been sent to the kennels for that too. But he’d been in one of Elise’s dresses that time. It was too small now. They all were. Mori had said it was meant to shame him. It worked well, like all of Mori’s other punishments.

When he’d been let out, Mori had held him down on the infirmary table, burning an “M” into the back of his right shoulder. Never had the man gone so far but he had leaned down and whispered into Dazai’s ear as tears slipped from his eyes that he was his. No wizard would steal him away.

The memories replayed in Dazai’s mind as he watched the man pull out the neatly scripted letter from the school. Minerva McGonagall signed neatly at the bottom, a spot normally reserved for Albus Dumbledore. So she had replaced him fully. Not that had surprised Dazai. The woman had been filling in for the man the past year, why not promote her completely.

Killing the man didn’t sit on his conscience the way Poppy Pomfrey’s death did. He was a complacent man. Simple. The type of person Dazai hated, yet seemed to embody the most.

“What are you thinking about over there, Dazai? Care to enlighten me?” The man broke the boy away from his thoughts.

“Nothing. Please, continue. I’ll listen.”
“I’ll write back to your headmistress. In the meantime this is for you.”

He slid a second sheet over to Dazai. It was a list for his books and items needed for the year.

“You leave the twenty-seventh of August. I’ll be sending you to that dingy pub you enjoyed last time. I expect you’ll raise hell again this year. Kouyou has reported to me that there haven’t been any stories published about the demon student recently. Do well to change that, will you? We need to keep traction for the Department of Education. And you happen to do a good job keeping that momentum up.

I expect you to write to me concerning the events of the school year, Dazai. I can’t stand to not have you around for so long!” The man changed from serious to fake-pouting disturbingly quick.

“I won’t disappoint you.”

“For your sake, I hope not.”