Chapter 11: Bleed in Crimson Rivers

Toushirou looked up from his approach, eyes previously on an array of papers outspread on a table in the library. Apparently, the captain had secluded himself here, with several texts aside and stacked on the brown tabletop he claimed for his own, ink pot opened for some time with his quill in hand as he had paused mid scrawl to look up at Malfoy. Draco didn't know what those teal eyes were looking for on his face, but whatever it was, Toushirou found it.

"Draco, you have found me." How many times do I have left to find you?

The younger squared his stance before seating himself across the captain, shivering at the soft whisper of his name. "Yes, and you have been elusive, Toushirou. Are you unharmed from your activities?" Lie to me, if that's what keeps you by my side.

Toushirou rose a brow. "You will not ask what you are curious of?" If you are as quick to pick up things as I know, then you would have reached the conclusion I would have predicted by now. Of my planned demise.

Malfoy gave him a bitter smile like he held all the power to kill his greatest enemy but realized that he was unable to carry it out, confirming his thoughts. "If I ask of you, you will tell me what I do not want to hear. I do not want to hear whether or not you will live. Or if you will leave me. I do not want to hear it. Only what you said last night. That you will continue my fantasy for me. You will indulge me." For my own and your sake. You promised.

Toushirou was silent as his quill remained unmoved. I promised.

"I am unharmed." He said after a silence. "I will be meeting with the Dark Lord."

Concern flashed in grey eyes before a flat voice somehow escaped Malfoy's lips, dry. "Where? When?"

"I do not know, but soon. I will be… unavailable for a few days." Toushirou replied just as flat, eyes hidden. His quill was moving once again. Did he not feel anything? No. Malfoy argued with himself. He felt too much. That was why… Feeling like the room was suddenly suffocatingly hard to breath in, the blonde rose out of his chair so quickly he almost tripped on the wooden legs. Catching himself before he could meet the ground on the back of another chair, Draco gripped the wood with a bone-white grip as his body registered the firm and strong arms around his torso, having caught him before he could do so himself. They loosened, as if they suddenly remembered that they shouldn't have helped. Feeling the urge to cry surge in his throat, Draco swallowed it away as he felt his eyes well up against his will, biting his lip so hard he tasted iron. "Come back to me safely."

The same lips of last night ghosted over his ear. "I will." Lie to me. Indulge in my fantasy. Ask, and you shall have, Draco.

Gasping airily, Draco broke out of the embrace, his body and mind one in telling him to get away. Away from the subject of his pain. Leaving behind a contemplative Toushirou, with a single tear down his visage, teal eye troubled as his mouth was half-open with something to say. Only he could not say what, words failing him, as empty as his arms.

Harry gripped the Marauder's Map with a sense of frustration, not finding the name he wanted to see in the flowing script — instead, seven other names gleamed with one sorely missing. The official excuse was that Hitsugaya was preoccupied with a family emergency and was sent home in Japan for a few days but the troubled Slytherins suggested something else. Hermione was suspicious just as he was, only in the oddity, not that Dumbledore has allowed Hitsugaya to leave like Ron suggested, but that the transfer had dropped everything and left. Though, Harry did not find it too out of place since Hitsugaya did proclaim that his loyalty was only to his home and that alone, so if a family emergency occurred that dire enough to recall him — then did it not make sense for him to leave?

Hermione shook her head. "When all of this is going on in Hogwarts? That man, Pyrrhus said it himself. If Hitsugaya was nearing a decision, then why leave?"

"The calm before the storm?" Ron yawned, internally lamenting why they discussed so late into the night. He needed sleep, dammit.

"No." The girl rejected flatly. "There must be more to it…"

"Malfoy would know." Harry suggested, none too subtly. "How do we know if he didn't off him—"

The stern glare from Hermione cut him off, done with his 'baseless' accusations. Hitsugaya may have been a loose cannon, but at the least, Harry knew that he had the best interests of the many at heart. He saved him multiple times and had told Voldemort that he was to await his decision. But Malfoy… the odd behavior and the off way he and friends clung to Toushirou… Harry feared that the decision would not entirely be the transfer's in the end.

However, all of that was out of mind the next morning, two days after Hitsugaya's abrupt departure, fourteen high security prisoners of Azkaban escaped their prison with the according to the Daily Prophet. The cells were said to have been found empty without a single trace of how they escaped — only with the scraped words on Antonin Dolohov's cell that the Dark Lord had returned. And now armed with more of his Death Eaters.

And among them was Lucius Malfoy.

The shock on the Death Eater's son was too real to be false (according to Hermione), as the newspaper was dropped off during dinner — informing professors and students at the same time — but one detail concerned the Boy Who Lived. Pointed out by Hermione, the Potions Master was absent at dinner, having been sent away by the Headmaster presumably.

Throwing at the map aside in a fit of frustration, Harry ran a hand through his hair, breathing harsh and quick. "What the hell is going on?" Katie's necklace, Draco Malfoy and his group, the 'secret weapon', Ron with the poisoned wine, Horcruxes and now, Hitsugaya Toushirou's absence — what was all of this leading to? And what did it all mean?

Later that day, after trying to configure the account from Katie Bell unsuccessfully, Harry narrowed his green eyes after a flustered Malfoy, straight to the boys' bathroom.

"I know what you did, Malfoy!" He shot at his rival, seeing the tears and the utter despair in the blonde's shaking form. Only to quickly contort to a frown and shock, wiping aside his tears as he turned. "You Hexed her, didn't you?"

Annoyance or was it fury? Neither way, the blonde teen growled lowly before shooting a Jinx at him, to which Harry swiftly ducked aside. "What in blazes are you spouting about now, Potter?!"

In place of a reply, Harry Hexed him back. But Draco was his rival for a reason. Dodging just as agilely as the bespectacled teen, Harry only succeeded in making the sink pipes to burst and mirrors crack. "Tell me why you Hexed Katie!"

Hiding in opposing ends of the bathrooms behind the pillars to conceal, Draco huffed out a breath of incredulous air as the sound of spraying water echoed in the room, flooding the floors — shooting another Hex. Damn. He missed. "Surely, you do not think that I was the one who put Bell in the St. Mungo's? Do not be daft!" Toushirou told me that Potter may react impulsively at me in suspicion, but now of all times…!

"Then why did you fire a Hex at me?" Harry demanded. Grey eyes narrowed before glancing at his feet. Below. Shooting another Jinx, the blonde caught Harry off-guard as he knelt to do as Malfoy predicted him to — making him turn away to give him enough time to get out of this bathroom. Of course, Potter had to walk in when he was having an internal spinel of how his lover had not contacted him, especially with the revelation of his freed father! Damn this… annoyance! And did he not hear of a fight-or-flight response?! He had other things to be concerned over than to entertain the obliviousness of the last Potter.

With the words of the Knockback Jinx in his mind, Draco was startled to hear a shout from behind. Potter recovered faster than he calculated. Shit.

"Sectumsempra!"

Draco fell back, too stunned to feel the cold water soaking his back, platinum blonde bangs over his face as he stared wide-eyed at the rapidly bleeding Pyrrhus over him. Blood covered him like he was sliced open, tendrils of crimson soaking him and the floor — move! Move, Draco! Do something! Toushirou's voice screamed in his mind — but he couldn't, eyes fixed on the blood. There was so much blood. Red and bleeding everywhere. A choking gasp broke the hypnosis. Potter.

Cold fingers gripped his wand in one hand, the other stemming the worst of the bleeding. Steely grey eyes glared into the soul of those emerald ones — so naive, so lucky and with so much chance. The curse came easily. "Crucio."

The Slytherin locket glittered under his shirt as he shifted his gaze from person to person present at the meeting, dismissing the conversations of the day before. If Malfoy believed himself to be subtle, Toushirou would've had to have been stupid as the blonde would have the 'need' to exit the room the moment Toushirou was within the vicinity of his person. Parkinson and Bulstrode were the ones who were particularly affected, eyes conveying their emotional bemoans while the boys tried to keep them at bay and allow their parents to absolve the situation themselves. Nott and Blaise in particular, confronted him after Draco ran off, guns blazing and ready for confrontation — only to dismissed. It was none of their business, it was only his and Draco's.

Hitsugaya felt a headache growing at his temples. His rational mind screamed how it was a detrimental part of his plan — the repercussions if he allowed himself to 'live' and be as Draco had dared to hope would destroy it. His newly acquainted emotions seeped dangerously at the edge of his mask, awaiting for the moment it broke before Draco. But Toushirou was steadfast.

He was a dead soul and Draco was alive. He reasoned and thought to himself, rationalizing in the icy tundra as Hyorinmaru and Sephiroth listened, silent but comforting in their presence alone. He was not arrogant enough to choose for him. Whether Draco lived or died, it was his choice. Not Toushirou's and certainly not anyone else's. Not to mention his blatant lie to the blonde of his whereabouts that night…

A small voice echoed his darkest considerations, from making Draco forget of him entirely to questioning himself of why he allowed Draco in when they were not meant to be in the end. Merciful gods, when did he become such a dramatic?

Shaking aside the thoughts, his gaze rested on the last guest. Severus Snape.

All guests were present. The dining room was cleared and bare as silver candelabras adorned the table, illuminating the faces of Death Eaters, previously imprisoned and haggard from their served time. Recently freed by yours truly from Azkaban, strangely enough, the Daily Prophet was rather slow in the uptaking. Movement caused the teal eyes to flicker to it instinctively at the head of the table, was a pale man. He was a shadow of the once handsome Tom Riddle, now bald and serpentine features as those toxic green eyes leered over his subjects in mock caring, suave and charismatic in his aura. He was a leader for a reason, captivating to not only the eye once upon a time but also in demeanor and the way he spoke. A large serpent curled over his black robed form, flicking her tongue every once in a while, yellow slitted eyes conveying the higher intellect than a mindless animal. Toushirou felt indifferent. In comparison to Aizen, Voldemort was nothing more than a pig for slaughter.

Briefly, he considered hacking off his head with his Horcrux-blessed pet. It was more than he deserved to be sent to Hell with his companion.

It was easy, quick and… anti-climatic. Not to mention the headache with Potter and Draco if he was the one to kill him. How annoying.

"…now if our honored guest would be so kind to reveal himself." At the soft voice, Toushirou merely curled deeper into the shadows, teal eyes veiled for a moment.

Voldemort was cautious and paranoid, as he scanned the room, unaware of his hidden guest's location, hence his invitation. His contact had given him new toys that were as obedient as any would be under the Imperius Curse but had not visited him since — that would mean that he was either trying to cover up his tracks or cutting him off. Either way, he still had the gifts from the pink-haired Arrancar. The lord intended to use them — along with their guest.

"You are not my master. Nor do I hold any loyalties to you, half-breed." A cold voice replied, as they all looked up to see a white-haired captain standing over them, shined shoes on the tabletop and teal eyes leering. So, this was the boy that the prophecy foretold to decide. He was young, even younger than Harry — as if his hair was not enough to display his exotic features, he possessed pale skin and luminescent green-blue eyes that seemed to be older than Dumbledore's. "Though… I am willing to hear you out."

With a gesture, the Dark Lord smiled with cruel intent. "Please, if you would, young Hitsugaya."

There was a terse silence, none moving before the child turned without a sound, seating himself across the table at the other head. "Now, then. With all of our guests present, I declare this meeting to begin. Some of you have been absent due to your own incompetence in events of a year ago, and for that, you have been punished. I presume, there are no… protests?"

Naturally, there was none but voiced agreement.

"Severus, I presume you bring news?"

"Yes, my lord." Snape replied, dead voice unchanged from lectures. "The boy is still well protected by Dumbledore, who has been avoiding the efforts of the young Malfoy and his posse. He will not be vulnerable until the day the Headmaster is taken out of the equation."

"And how do you suppose we do so, Severus?" Dolohov hissed from Toushirou's right. "Hogwarts is well protected. And it is not as if we can waltz in and out like you! That Malfoy boy is not even doing his tasks neither!"

"This is the result if we are to recruit children!" Another snarled. Rookwood. "Useless!"

"Unlike the two of you, who were so successful." Toushirou drawled, drawing every eye to his bored form, face rested on a fist and half-lidded eyes in complete arrogance as he sneered. "Being locked up in Azkaban for a year, awaiting for another child to free you. Yes, the epitome of usefulness, indeed."

Those from Azkaban flushed and hid their heads in shame, anger pulsing from their forms as Rookwood and Dolohov opened their mouths to protest when their lord laughed, silencing them. They were too afraid to distract their master from his amusement. "Then what say you, Hitsugaya? What would you have us do, in these times?"

The ice captain was silent for a moment. "Lost, Riddle?"

Bellatrix snarled, ready to protest the casual address of her lord. Only to be silenced by a wandless spell from the child, subdued as her face kissed the wood, unconscious. The captain continued as if uninterrupted. "Your move to eliminate Albus Dumbledore is a fruitful one. One of the greatest wizards, his death would have more repercussions than Harry Potter's, it could be argued. The impact on the Order's morale and not to mention, the boy himself, you have them reeling before you. Even in your use of children, none suspect that a student has the capability to kill. However, you overestimate the mental turmoil to kill."

"Is that not the incompetence of the child?" Rowle hissed, from beside Bellatrix.

"Is that not the incompetence of the adult?" Toushirou shot back, eyes narrowed. "Do not implicate your burdens onto your children. They are the not the same as you and I, whose hands who have already been colored in blood."

"Then why did you not kill him?!" Dolohov snapped. "If you were capable, then why does he live?!"

"I am no more than a potential ally." Toushirou shrugged, eyes aloof at the shouting Death Eater. "My messenger was to make that perfectly clear."

"Yes, yes." Voldemort nodded, as shocked eyes landed on the captain. "You, the transfer student from the East, shall be the one who decides at the most crucial moment. Forgive me for not making the same clear for my subordinates. But you see, it is unfortunate that you out of all are the one to make this decision. It makes the Ministry and I, concerned of where you ally yourself."

"And what do you propose to change this?"

The Dark Lord smiled wider. "Have you heard the name, Szayelaporro Granz?"

Toushirou narrowed his eyes as the smile grew wider, only to finally sense the hollow reiatsu at his feet, curling at the limbs until it bit into his ankle — filling his blood with venom. "Not that it matters."

How dare this…! Shunpoing, Toushirou reappeared behind the Dark Lord, too fast for any of the wizards to see, gripping his bleeding side. So, that's where Tia Harribel's Fraccion went. I need to get out of here. But before he could, Toushirou cursed internally as his consciousness subsided, his body feeling too hot, his ankle in white-hot fire as a single thought posed in his mind, world fading into black. He had broken Draco's promise.

Matsumoto froze, her hand automatically coming to her zanpakuto before she composed herself. Her captain told her that there was a possibility of this occurring. Calm. Shunpoing to their shared office after excusing herself with as much inconspicuousness as possible, the short-haired lieutenant yanked open her superior's desk drawer to reveal a series of packages, marked with colored indicators (jeez, how many back-up plans and contingencies did her captain have? — forget it, it's probably better if I didn't know) after scanning the division for any stray members that would interrupt. Assured that she was alone, the lieutenant ignored all but the green one, tearing it open before locking the drawer with a Kido seal; scanning the contents with a growing dark frown. An hour later, clipping the ice pin in her hair and the bluetooth to her ear, she spoke firmly and clearly as she flash-stepped through Seireitei. "This is Matsumoto-fukutaicho of the Tenth Division. Requesting access to the Senkaimon in London, Britain; authorization pending. Request for all Seats as accompany."

"Request received, Matsumoto-fukutaicho; authorization is required." The automated voice shot back at her as she muttered a reply through painted lips.

"I know, damn you."

Succinctly snapping at the guard to let her in at the First Division, the lieutenant bowed at the presence of the Head Captain. "Matsumoto-fukutaicho."

"Forgive my abrupt interruption, sir." She began, before she followed in her report. "As of seventy-two hours ago, I have lost contact with Hitsugaya-taicho. Through the Two-Way Mirror, he has provided me, he was last conscious during a meeting with Tom Marvolo Riddle and his Death Eaters. Szayelaporro Granz has been revealed to be their Hollow contact, and who has enslaved Tia Harribel's Fraccion. It appears that he intends to do the same with Hitsugaya-taicho."

"And how do you know of this, Matsumoto-fukutaicho?"

The strawberry blonde held out the package. Opening it, revealed a set of parchment that wrote itself, a series of reports that were magicked to record the events that the mirror overheard. "Hitsugaya-taicho had placed a complicated spell on this package. To not activate until he was unconscious for more than seventy-two hours, he linked the Taboo of my mirror, which he gifted me a year ago. Once activated, the events of which are transcribed in the parchment will be transferred to me through his magic." Making none, but his direct subordinate, the most informed agent.

"…Very well. You, Matsumoto-fukutaicho, bar anyone else above your rank, will have full authority in the venture to the Wizarding World. Inform Tia Harribel to accompany you as well — her Fraccion is her responsibility, not ours."

"Yes, sir. If I can request companies outside of my own, sir?"

"Who did you have in mind, Matsumoto-fukutaicho?"

The silvery-blue eyes of the lieutenant glowed darkly as she said her choices, under the Head Captain's half-opened gaze. She was without her captain for long enough. And if these wizards believed that they had a chance in keeping him, they had another thing coming.