Author: Marianne C. Malfoy, aka. Ithilwen.
Rating: R. Quite a high R.
Pairing: Draco/Harry.
Warnings: Language, graphic slash, blood.
Disclaimer: I own diddly-squat except the plot. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling (on the subject of characters, has anyone else seen Remus and Sirius from the film of PoA and thought Jesus CHRIST, what are the casting directors thinking?). Please don't sue me, I'm very poor, and still have enough dignity to refuse to offer you my body.
A/N: This is my first attempt at anything verging on the graphic side of things. Constructive criticism would be really useful, as writing about Draco and Harry screwing like rabbits is an art I have yet to perfect. And an art I would actually quite like to perfect.
Saving You
Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice and wished that he didn't have to be here now. Here being the Great Hall, now being dinner. To have to sit at the same House tables when half of the students were missing meant that it was impossible to forget that their housemates had died, or had left and gone to Durmstrang, or were now in the service of Voldemort. This didn't do wonders for morale, and made everyone feel like shit every time they had to come into the Hall for a meal. Harry, in fact, felt very much like shit, and was trying to ignore the deafening, sorrowful silence that had descended upon Hogwarts mealtimes.
He glanced over at the Slytherin table, and it struck him just how few of them remained. There was a group of twenty or so first and second years, who sat together at every meal, and scurried along the corridors with their heads lowered, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, as though they expected to be set upon by their older housemates and dragged away to Voldemort at any second. Next to them sat a handful of third, fourth and fifth years, who muttered darkly amongst themselves and rarely ventured out of the Common Room. There were only three sixth years left, and they spent most of their time with their Ravenclaw friends, two of them currently sitting at the Ravenclaw table along with Blaise Zabini. And there, at the opposite end of the Slytherin table, alone, sat the only other Slytherin seventh year, the sleeves of his robes pulled over his hands, as though he was extremely cold, and his dinner untouched before him.
When, at the start of the year, it had become apparent that only three-quarters of the students had returned, the last person Harry had expected to see still seated at the Slytherin table was Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were absent, as were most of the other seventh years. Malfoy was alone with only Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson for company, and for that, Harry had almost felt sorry for him. It had seemed that Malfoy was slightly more subdued. Perhaps it was the loss of his two bodyguards, but he was slightly less obnoxious and seemed to be rather more jumpy than was usual. He still found the time to insult Harry, Ron and Hermione as often as possible.
A little over a week ago, however, they had returned to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays to find more students absent, notably from the Slytherin table. Malfoy was, for all intents and purposes, alone. And, Harry had noticed, he had changed. Gone were the little nervous glances, and the usual arrogant air of self-importance. In fact, Malfoy rarely made eye-contact with anyone.
Harry didn't understand. The Death Eaters were gaining more and more power – Malfoy should have been crowing about his father's success, intimidating the Gryffindors, and prophesising the destruction of all mudbloods. Instead he kept silent and only spoke when he was approached, to tell whoever it was unequivocally to fuck off. He had even stopped passing comment to Harry, Ron and Hermione, and Harry, sensing that Malfoy wasn't in the mood for provocation, firmly told Ron to stop baiting him.
As Harry watched Malfoy, an imperious-looking eagle owl flew into the Hall. The rest of the mail had been delivered, as was usual, at breakfast that morning and the rest of the students' eyes were on the owl as it glided towards the Slytherin table. Harry noticed Malfoy almost looked scared as the owl approached. It landed on the table before him, and held out its leg. Harry watched, along with the rest of the Hall, as Malfoy untied the letter that was attached. Were Malfoy's hands trembling slightly? Harry couldn't tell, he was sitting too far away. The owl nipped him sharply on the hand and turned, flying off again out of the hall. Malfoy held the envelope for a moment, ignoring the blood welling up where the bird had nipped him, then stood abruptly and walked hurriedly out of the Hall. The silence of the Hall was broken by a subdued murmuring, as everyone began to wonder what Malfoy, now the most openly hated member of the school, had received.
Harry stared after Malfoy's retreating figure, and was only broken from his reverie by Hermione's hushed whisper, "I wonder what Malfoy's been sent."
Ron snorted, "Probably a summons from dear old Daddy to go and serve you-know-who."
"Hmm… I don't think so." Hermione said thoughtfully. "He looked almost scared when the owl flew in, didn't he Harry?"
Harry shrugged, "I didn't see," he lied.
"Hmm…" Hermione said again, frowning. "Well, anyway, we have work to do. NEWTS are only five months away. I'm going to draw us up a revision timetable."
Ron fixed Hermione with a sharp look, "Don't you think there are more important things than exams going on at the minute?" His eyes flickered towards Harry with all the subtlety of a cave troll.
Harry glanced, irritated, at Ron, and looked at Hermione, "It's okay, 'Mione. School doesn't stop just because Death Eaters are on the rampage and Voldemort's once again trying to kill me," he ignored their wince. "It'd help take my mind off things."
Hermione threw Ron a triumphant look and stood up, "Right, let's go to the library, then."
Harry, too, stood up, but Ron remained seated. "You two go," he said, "I'll see you back in the Common Room. I'll see if Seamus wants a game of chess -" He stopped, horrified. Seamus hadn't returned after Christmas – the whole family had been killed by Death Eaters. "- because I always beat him." Ron finished sadly.
Hermione smiled sadly and placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. "We'll see you later," she said gently. They walked off in the direction of the library.
An hour later, and Harry was decidedly bored with writing revision timetables. Hermione was doing perfectly well by herself and quite why she needed Harry to help, he wasn't sure. He sighed. "I'm going for a walk. I'll see you in the Common Room."
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, "It's already dark, you can't go wandering around outside, not now."
Harry sighed again, "Look, I can't stay inside all the time. I'm already starting to go crazy. Nothing'll happen to me if I stay near the castle. There are wards up all over the place, you know."
Hermione frowned, "I know, but -"
"I'll be fine." Harry assured her. "I'll see you later." He picked up his cloak and walked away.
He walked briskly through the corridors, not wanting to be drawn into conversation with anyone, especially not the paintings, which recently had a botched cleaning spell done on them. They now all spoke French and were quite mad. This, Harry mused, would be an improvement for Sir Cadogan. At least they wouldn't be able to understand him anymore.
Reaching the main doors, he pulled his cloak around him against the cold January air and set off across the grounds. Where he was going, he didn't know, he just had to get out of the castle. Everyone seemed intent on keeping him inside, as if fresh air itself was the tool of Voldemort and would kill him as soon as he got outside.
Throwing himself down by the edge of the lake, Harry glared at his own reflection. What would it take for him to be able to lead a normal life? He smiled grimly at the thought of faking his own death by leaving his clothes in a pile beside the lake and making it look like the Grindylows had got him, or the Merpeople had killed him whilst he was swimming. A few well placed spells and no one would recognise him. He could go and live in a hut on a small island and nobody would ever bother him again. He snorted with laughter at the thought of the Daily Prophet headlines: Boy Who Lived Eaten By Giant Squid.
He caught sight of something – someone – also sitting by the edge of the water. A little way further round the lake, almost hidden in the darkness, a figure sat beside the impressive weeping-willow tree. Squinting, Harry saw the silver hair, and knew immediately who it was. Malfoy didn't appear to have seen him. He was sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, staring blankly out across the lake. Harry supposed he could leave quietly, and Malfoy would never know he was there, but considering that Harry had just been thinking of all the ways one could be killed by things living in the lake, he had better go and see that Malfoy was alright. Damn him and his own Gryffindor values.
Standing up, he walked slowly towards the other boy, careful to let his feet fall with a little sound, so that Malfoy would at least be aware of his approach. As he got nearer, he realised that Malfoy's eyes were red and puffy… had he been crying?
"Go away, Potter." Malfoy said without conviction. Harry ignored him and sat down and short distance from him. They sat in silence for a moment and Harry reflected that he had never considered that Malfoy cried. "I told you to fuck off." Malfoy finally said.
Harry knew what it was like to be alone, and he knew it wasn't pleasant. He knew that the last time he'd cried, he would have given anything to have someone listen to him. He recognised something in Malfoy that he'd seen in himself. He disliked the boy, yes. And the chances of Malfoy wanting him to listen, let alone saying anything civil to him, were slim. But he couldn't just leave him here. Besides, he was curious. He'd noticed Malfoy had changed, and he wanted to know why.
"Don't you have anything better to do with your time?" Malfoy asked, his eyes still fixed on the calm water in front of him.
"No." Harry said. "Don't you?"
Malfoy snorted and made no reply. Silence descended again. Minutes passed, before Malfoy finally turned round and looked at Harry, "I don't know what you're trying to achieve, and I honestly don't care. Please, leave me alone." He turned back to the lake, impassive as before.
Harry blinked. Malfoy had not commanded him to leave, he had asked him to please leave. Never in his life had Harry heard Malfoy say the word 'please'. Not even to Snape. And the effect that the word had on him… Malfoy suddenly looked so small, huddled in his cloak, begging Harry to leave him alone. Which, of course, he wasn't going to do.
"I suppose I should say thank you." Harry said.
Malfoy frowned and turned to look at him again, "What the hell for?"
"Well, you haven't called Hermione a mudblood for at least seven days. Since you came back from the Christmas holidays, in fact."
Malfoy said nothing and turned away again. After a moment, he spoke quietly but angrily. "You don't have to pretend not to hate me just because you're a Gryffindor and you're nice to everyone. The rest of the school hates me, and I know you've always hated me, just like I hate you. So I don't need your pity or your pathetic Gryffindor compassion, because I don't ask for it and I don't deserve it."
Harry was a little taken aback. "I don't hate you." He said finally.
"Oh, do me a favour." Malfoy sneered. "You hate me because I'm an evil Slytherin and I'm a terminal bastard to you and your friends, and I hate you because everyone loves you, even though you're crap at everything except getting yourself killed, and because you're a Gryffindor and I'm a Slytherin, and because I'm meant to hate you -" He stopped himself abruptly.
"No, really, I don't hate you," Harry said, as if it was only just occurring to him. "I hate plenty of people. Voldemort, for one. You're a pain in the arse. And I'd love to see you humiliated in front of every single member of this school. And I hate what you do to me and Ron and Hermione. But I don't hate you. To hate someone, you've got to wish they're dead, and I don't wish you were dead. Just in a lot of pain." He added.
Malfoy looked round at him, amazed. Harry grinned. It was quite a revelation to him, as well.
Suddenly, Malfoy went white. A small cry of pain escaped him before his bit down on his lip and turned away from Harry. He began to shake, quite visibly, and moaned, unable to stop himself. Alarmed, Harry moved closer and placed a hand on Malfoy's shoulder.
"Are you alright?" He asked, foolishly.
"Don't touch me!" Malfoy hissed, pulling himself away from Harry. "Don't come near me!"
Frowning, Harry moved back. "I was only trying to help -"
Malfoy gave another cry of pain, which broke into a ragged sob. "Please, go away! Leave me alone!"
"No I won't leave you alone. You need to go to Madame Pomfrey." He moved towards Malfoy again, but the blonde-haired boy tried to knock him away.
"Don't touch me!" He cried.
"Why the hell not?" Harry demanded.
"Because of this!" Malfoy screamed at him and turned, pulling up his sleeve.
Harry hissed and fell backwards, scrambling to get away from him, as a blinding pain seared through his scar. "Fuck! You bastard! You utter bastard! You're one of them!"
"You see why you should hate me now!" Malfoy cried, holding out his arm. "You have to hate me! Everybody has to fucking hate me!"
Harry looked round wildly, pulling his wand out of his robe. "Is this a trap?" He asked Malfoy, who didn't reply. "Is this a fucking trap?"
Malfoy shook his head. "No! I swear, it isn't!"
Harry looked down at him, "Why the hell should I take your word for it? You utter bastard! You disgust me. You… I felt sorry for you! When you were alone, I felt sorry for you! I do fucking hate you." He turned away and started to walk back to the castle.
"Well, fuck you!" Malfoy screamed at him. "Fuck you!"
Harry would have carried on walking. Malfoy was sobbing; he could hear his ragged gasps for breath and screams of 'fuck you!' following him up to the castle. And then, suddenly, the sounds stopped. Harry stopped and turned, looking back at Malfoy. The pale-haired boy was rocking backwards and forwards, and although Harry could see him shaking, he couldn't hear him anymore. Taking a step back, Harry suddenly heard him once more, as if he'd opened a sound-proof door. Malfoy had cast a silencing charm around himself. How long had he been sitting there, crying to himself silently before Harry had arrived?
Shaking his head, Harry stepped away again, walking briskly up the lawns. Malfoy was a Death Eater. A Death Eater.
But sitting there alone at the side of the lake, his knees pulled up to his chest, shaking with inaudible sobs, he looked so young. He was just seventeen, like Harry. He was evil, Harry had always known that, but surely, not that evil.
Harry turned once more and looked down towards Malfoy. He had his wand out… what the hell was he doing? Before he realised what he was doing, Harry was sprinting down the lawns towards him. He passed through the invisible wall and Malfoy had stopped sobbing.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"
He had his eyes shut, and the wand pointed at himself. "Avada -"
Harry dove at him, knocking him sideways and preventing him from completing the curse. The wand was knocked out of his hand and rolled away. Harry's momentum carried them a little way and they came to rest under the willow tree, surrounded by its long branches. Malfoy looked up at Harry from where he lay and tears gathered in his eyes again. "I'm sorry." He sobbed, gathering himself up into a bundle again and shuddering.
Harry sat against the tree trunk for a moment and watched him, hesitating, and then moved forward swiftly, and before Malfoy could protest, wrapped his arms round him, pulling him closer. Harry held him, and felt the sobs wracking his slim frame. He rocked him silently, gently, and Malfoy seemed to fall apart in his arms, letting his weight rest against Harry, his head on the dark-haired boy's shoulder.
After a while, his sobs subsided, and he sat gasping for breath in Harry's embrace.
"I didn't want it." He said quietly. "Father told me it would happen at Christmas and I wanted to beg him not to let it happen, but then it would have been worse. On Christmas Eve he took me to a graveyard, and they were all there, in a circle, waiting for me. I'd never been to one before, and it was horrible. I went forward and He was there… he pulled me towards him and I could smell his breath when he spoke to me and I wanted to run, but I couldn't because they were holding me down." He lifted his tear-stained face to Harry and looked at him, "They burn it into you, you know." He whispered. "It was a silver knife, and it was glowing red, it was so hot… and he burnt it into me and I was screaming, and he was laughing, and I can't remember anything else. Except that he kissed me." Malfoy shuddered. "When it was finished he kissed me and I tasted him for days, burnt, rotting flesh and -" Malfoy turned away and heaved, vomiting what little of his dinner he'd eaten onto the grass. Harry, still holding his wand, muttered a cleaning spell and it vanished. Malfoy wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Sorry." He murmured.
Harry was shocked. His arms slid away and Malfoy looked up at him, "So you see, I'm just as evil as you thought I was."
Harry shook his head, "No, I'm… I'm sorry. God, I didn't know… it's terrible. It's strange… for the first three years of being here, I really did hate you. But in the fourth year… there were more important things. Since then I never really thought about hating you… You are a bastard. But nobody deserves that. I -" He realised that Malfoy was looking at him oddly, "Malfoy… what?"
"Draco." He said. "Please, don't call me Malfoy. I can't stand it."
Harry frowned at him slightly, "Draco." He repeated. "You always call me Potter, so -"
"Harry." Draco interrupted him. Harry shivered slightly at the sound… He'd never heard the blonde boy say his name before. There was a strange look in Draco's eyes.
"Mal-Draco… what are you –"
Draco moved forward swiftly and pushed Harry back against the tree trunk. He pressed his lips against Harry's in a gentle kiss and waited for Harry to respond. Which he did. Draco flicked his tongue along Harry's lips, which parted, and their tongues met, tangling together in a fierce kiss. Harry didn't stop to question what he was doing, just wrapped his arms round Draco's neck and pulled him closer. But Draco pulled away and looked at him, his breathing heavy.
"Can you… just for tonight…" Draco murmured.
Harry understood. He nodded and pulled the blonde-haired boy to him again. He kissed his jaw gently, then the corner of his mouth, then the other corner. Draco gave a whimper of need and pushed their lips together once more, letting Harry's tongue slide past his lips.
They struggled to maintain the contact as Draco fumbled with the clasps on Harry's robes. Holding Draco's mouth to his with one hand behind his head, Harry used his other hand to bat away Draco's hands and pulled his robes away impatiently, ignoring the sound of tearing cloth. Draco's robes were similarly pulled away, as were their shirts. For a moment they rested against each other, hands moving on skin, lips on lips, before Draco put his hands to Harry's jeans and unzipped them, pulling them down. They fell over, unbalanced by Draco's actions, and Harry kicked the jeans away, quickly followed by Draco's. Draco reached up from where he lay under Harry, their tongues still sliding together in each others' mouths, and ground himself against him, hip to hip. Harry groaned into the kiss and they kicked away their boxers.
Harry drew away and looked down at Draco, who lay beneath him panting, looking thoroughly debauched. The enormity of what Draco had asked him for dawned on him and he looked down at the other boy, wondering whether this was a particularly sensible thing to do.
Draco looked up at him, his eyes brimming with tears once more. "Please," he whispered.
Harry reached for his wand, which lay with his cloak beside them. "Ungere," he muttered, thankful that Ron had brothers to inform them of such things. He looked down at Draco, whose eyes were silently pleading with him. He wanted him… and Draco needed him, needed this…
Keeping his eyes on Draco's, holding his stare, and never taking his eyes off him, Harry slid into him. He moved forward excruciatingly slowly, holding Draco's hips gently. Draco's breathing was ragged, and he gasped as Harry slid further into him. Harry kept his eyes deliberately open, forcing himself to keep eye contact with Draco, until finally he was inside him, and he was still. Draco closed his eyes and let his head fall back, a wordless moan escaping his lips. Harry leant forward and pressed a kiss to his throat, gently licking the pulsing vein.
Draco groaned. "Move… Move, for fuck's sake."
Harry kissed his throat again, and moved back slowly. A strangled sound escaped Draco's throat and he wound his arms round Harry's shoulders, pulling him down once more, his legs wrapped around Harry's hips. Harry pushed forward again, and Draco's eyes flew open. "More…" he whispered, so quietly that Harry barely heard him. He complied and pushed into Draco deeper. This time the moan was drawn from both of them.
"What do you want?" Harry asked, gasping. "Tell me, please."
"Take me," Draco whispered in reply. "Make me forget."
Harry nodded, and the tears gathered in Draco's eyes began to roll down his cheeks. Closing his eyes, he thrust sharply into Draco, and the pale-haired boy cried out wordlessly. And Harry was undone. He was thrusting hard into Draco, and the other boy grasped Harry's shoulders, clinging to him, pulling him close.
Blindly, Harry groped for Draco's hand, his left hand. Pushing himself deep into Draco, he entwined their fingers, and they were holding onto each other. Their arms touched, and Harry felt the burn as the Mark touched his skin. Draco pulled him down quickly and he crushed their lips together desperately, swallowing each others' screams.
Harry felt blood running down his arm, dripping onto the grass. The burning was almost intolerable, and Draco clung to him desperately, their hands clasped, fingers entwined. The Mark was glowing between their joined arms.
They moved as one creature, rocking against each other, screaming in ecstasy and agony into each others' mouths, as their blood ran down their arms, mixing, covering them. Light and darkness were fighting between them, trying to drag them down into each other, but they clung to each other still.
Draco was weeping – Harry could taste his tears, and he realised he too was crying, tears running down his cheeks, his sobs soundless, surrounded by Draco's kiss.
Lips melded together, Harry thrust once more and felt himself falling, gloriously, into blinding ecstasy, screaming into Draco's mouth as he spilled into him. Draco's grasp around his shoulders tightened and their tongues met, sliding together as came a second later.
Draco lifted his right hand, his left still entwined with Harry's and kept Harry's mouth to his, their tongues tangling together as they trembled in each others' arms.
Shuddering, Harry drew away and had no strength to support himself, resting against Draco, his head on the other boy's shoulder, Draco's seed warm on their stomachs. The blood was still running down their clasped arms, the flow slowed to a trickle. The burning was less, now almost gone. They lay together, Harry atop Draco, the boy's pale arm round Harry's shoulders, holding him to his chest. Their fingers still entwined, their hands clasped tightly, their arms outstretched.
Harry pressed a kiss to Draco's shoulder and withdrew from him slowly, Draco moaning slightly at the loss. Harry lay down beside him, careful not to move their damaged and still bleeding arms, and folded his other arm around the paler boy, whose cheeks were now flushed, his eyes fluttering closed. They lay under the braches of the willow tree, which stopped the wind from freezing them, their legs tangled together.
As the sky over the forest began to pale, and the stars started to fade, Draco woke Harry, untangling their legs. Harry gazed up at him apprehensively, unsure how Draco would react to what they'd done.
"God, your arm…" Draco rasped, his voice hoarse due to his screams hours earlier.
Harry followed Draco's gaze to his arm, which was covered in dried blood. On his forearm was a red, shiny scar where he had been burned, and above it, a small wound from which a little blood still seeped. Sitting up and retrieving his wand, Harry muttered a quick cleaning spell, and watched the blood disappear. As he moved, he realised Draco's semen had dried across his abdomen, and found that to be marked in such a way wasn't entirely displeasing.
Draco gave a sudden strangled sob, and Harry turned to him, wondering if this was the realisation that he had let Harry take advantage of him , that he hated Harry even more for what he'd done… Draco was staring wide-eyed at his left arm.
"What is it?" Harry asked, his voice as hoarse as Draco's.
"It's gone." Draco said.
Puzzled, Harry moved closer and peered over Draco's shoulder at his forearm. Where the Mark had been, there was now a shiny scar like the one on Harry's arm, and a wound where blood had poured from him. "How?"
Draco turned to him, "You… Our blood."
Harry shivered. 'Our blood.' Reaching out and lifting Draco's arm, he leaned forward and hesitatingly, gently brushed his lips against the scar. Draco gasped, but neither of them felt the burning.
Draco lifted his head and looked at Harry intently for a moment. Then he leaned forward and crushed their lips together in a searing kiss, Harry's lips parting eagerly to admit his tongue, their undamaged arms pulling each other closer. Harry brew back, gasping for breath.
"What -"
Draco pressed his lips against Harry's again gently, silencing him. "You saved me."
They scrambled into what was left of their robes and walked in silence up to the castle. Harry felt a sudden fear of returning, a dread of what would happen once they were returned to normality. The night had existed without rules, without Houses, without mutual dislike, and now they went back to the castle, and that night was lost. And Harry realised he didn't want it to be lost.
They stepped inside the still deserted entrance hall, and Harry paused, knowing that now they would go their own ways and Dra… Malfoy would resume his usual role in Harry's life
And Harry didn't know why he expected more. This was the way it was meant to be. The way things had to exist between them.
Draco turned to him, and saw in Harry the same reluctance to bring this to an end. He would go to Professor Snape and explain, leaving out the details, what had happened, and he would be taken to Dumbledore. He would be allowed to stay, and he wouldn't have to return to his father. Harry had given him that. He had had release for one night, and now he had to walk away.
Without a word, he pulled Harry into a recess in the wall, still hidden in shadows as the torches had not yet been lit. Trapping Harry against the wall, he kissed him desperately, pushing his tongue against Harry's lips, which parted willingly. Their tongues met and battled, as they tried to prevent it from ending. Draco found Harry's hand and caught it, entwining their fingers as they had been last night, clinging desperately to the dark-haired boy.
Reluctantly, he drew away, and disentangled their fingers. As Draco's pale fingers drifted over his arms, Harry knew enough to read the message in Draco's eyes: It's over.
Draco stepped away and turned his back on Harry, not wanting him to see the pain on his face. Harry watched as, half way across the entrance hall, Draco's steps became quicker and he lifted his head, and, by an act of will, became his old self once more, disappearing into the dungeons.
Harry lifted his hand and hurriedly brushed away the tears on his cheeks, walking across the entrance hall to the staircase. When he reached the Gryffindor Tower, he gave the password automatically and entered the Common Room. Hermione was slumped, sleeping, in an armchair, but he ignored her and headed straight for the dormitory. He kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, drawing the curtains around him.
"That was a long walk. 'Mione was worried." Ron said sleepily from the next bed.
Harry turned over and curled up on his side, drawing the covers up to his chin. He stared at the blood-red drapes which surrounded him and realised his lip was bleeding from the fierce kiss in the hallway. Biting down hard, he shook silently, tears rolling down his face, and he could still taste Draco, even in his blood.
~~~~~~