A/N: Hey! It's 7/2 and fanfiction.net has returned in read-only mode and I'm just starting the 11th chapter of "Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed." I love this story-it's such a drama!-and I hope that this chapter is up to par with the others.

We're into the climax, or at least getting there, with these last couple of chapters. I think you already know how it's going to end. With Hermione, at leasy. With Harry, well. I haven't decided. I do remember a review that I once got for this story that gave me an idea. So he might make it out alive. He might not. We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?

Yeah, and there are a couple of Artura Alexis flashbacks-bet you guys didn't know she was such an important character in this, eh?

Oh, and for some reason I love using Nar Litkins and Guy Wimsdon-along with Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Neville Longbottom. I generally don't like throwing in OC's, but this story needed a couple-Guy and Nar. But, the thing is, I think I'm handling it well because they're not main characters, and with all of them I love having bits of their personalities showing on the sidelines of the story. JK really didn't provided 'em for Dean, Seamus, and Nev, and at this point I practically regard Guy and Nar as part of the characters that JK actually mentioned. I even mention their names in "Draco's 24 Hours of Life," rather than making up two new names. :o)

Disclaimer: Dani, Lexa, Lexa's father, Nar, Guy, Ropes, the people at the Death Eater "extravaganza" and the plot are mine. Everything else you see here is brought to you by JK Rowling and her Harry Potter series.



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Artura Vivacia Alexis could see the platform. It was tall, looming above her like a foreboding power that was above her not only in presence. Choosing to ignore the chills running up and down her spine like skittish mice, Artura-or Lexa as they fondly referred to her as-felt for her father's strong, callused hand and gripped it tightly. She grimaced as he carelessly shook her off. "Lexa," he hissed. "Let go. Get a hold of yourself."

She refused to be offended; surely her father was simply too preoccupied with the ceremony at hand. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her dark robe. Lexa had never worn this robe before, and it itched a little. She knew how disrespectful it'd look, though, if she scratched at her side while the master was giving his speech.

Lexa fidgeted, and whispered up to her father, "Father, when will he call my name?" Her father turned to her and, with a much fonder smile, said, "Soon, baby." He patted her hand affectionately and gazed off to where the Dark Lord stood on the platform. His expression was glazed over. "Alexis should be one of the first names called."

Lexa felt good, and she felt bad, and she felt good. Being in that auditorium was making her skin stand on end in an eerie fashion, but her father's beaming eyes meant everything to her. She was finally sixteen and eligible to become what her father had wanted her to be since day one-a Death Eater.

"Alexis, Artura," the young, handsome blonde man to Voldemort's side announced. He was reading off a scroll of long, weathered parchment. Her name must have been on that list for a long time.

"Go on, baby," her father prodded her. She drew in a breath and took shaky, woozy steps onto the platform. She felt intoxicated-physically woozy but carefree on the inside. Lexa barely noticed as she nearly stumbled on the wooden platform that she had admired from afar. The hooded Dark Lord slowly turned to her, his holographic-seeming being flickering spasmodically. Lexa flinched, forgetting herself, but soon the sloppy grin returned to her teenage lips. He lifted his wand elaborately over his head, and then in one swift motion swished it down to point at Lexa's forearm and bellowed, "Signum pullus!"

Lexa's bliss did not fade; rather, it disappeared wholly into a searing pain unlike any other. She reared back to scream but no sound escaped her lips, and she stood motionless and silent like that for what seemed to be eternity. Someone, somewhere released his hand on her arm and it fell to her side. Her eyes opened, and she saw what she had seen all too many times before. But never had it seemed so frightening. The Dark Lord's face.

And before she could scream her father was at her side, comforting her and cooing that it would be all right, everything would be all right. And Lexa believed him. Her fists closed on air as she groped for his hand to hold, but she could not find it. Artura Alexis fainted.



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"DANI!" she screamed, bolting upright in bed. She was sobbing hysterically, the tears blurring her vision. But she could see him, right in front of her. He was real, right there, and not part of her dream-no, she had woken up.

His strong arms wrapped around her, and she laid her head on his shoulder, shivering from a cold that was absent from the room. "Lexa," he murmured. His rich, clear voice sounded surprised. "You're so cold." It only made her hold him tighter, afraid that he's draw back. When she finally settled down the smallest bit, she relaxed her grip and simply held him, not ready to completely let go. What if he left?

She finally opened her eyes and pulled back to look into his own; their dark brown color was clouded with concern, worry, and uncertainty. Looking past, she realized that she wasn't in her bedchambers. "Dani? Where am I?" Before he could answer, she caught sight of Madame Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Her hands were fidgeting, and her eyes kept shooting around the room with nervousness. "I'm in the infirmary," she answered for him.

"Lexa," he urged, taking her slender hands in his own. "Do you remember what you were saying before you blacked out?" His grip was so gentle. her dream! She remembered. She had dreamt of her induction. To become a Death Eater! Her mark! Was it too late?

"Daniel!" she wailed, throwing the covers off of her. He lunged forward and restrained her from jumping out of the bed. Her sparkling green eyes danced with importance. "Daniel, I need to tell you. It's important!"

"I know," he soothed. She felt his hand tense.

"Voldemort," she cried, noticing that Dani didn't flinch at all. "He's prepared for Harry."

Dani sat back, pondering this as she stopped to catch her breath. Her hands were shaking-she was frantic, and as much as he tried, Dani couldn't calm her down. "Lexa, Harry just left by Floo moments before you burst into the room. He said he was heading for. for." The Pociones professor scratched his chin, trying to trigger his memory.

"The Manor?" she asked, fearing the reply. His hands went limp; she grasped them with enough strength for both of them. "He did, didn't he?" Dani had gone white. She had received the answer that she hoped would never be. "Daniel, we need to get there. Now."

Dani shrank back, eyes darting around. "What can we do?" he finally asked hoarsely, daring to meet her eyes. He winced. "What will happen once we get there?"

Now Lexa quivered. Rolling up her sleeve, the Dark Mark glowed in a new light. "Dani," she said, "the Manor is the threshold of Voldemort's operations. Lucius is his right-hand man. Any attempts to apparate or Floo to enter if you do not have a Dark Mark or have the blood of the Malfoy or a marked one with you will be thwarted."

Dani cleared his throat nervously, timidly reaching back and lacing his fingers with hers. "How so thwarted?"

Lexa gulped. "In Harry's case," she whispered shamefully, "directly into the hands of the Dark Lord himself."

Dani nodded, though he shook violently. Pomfrey tried to step forward. "Get away!" Dani barked at her-she burst into tears and scurried off. Watching the nurse flee from the room, Lexa felt the remorse of her sins like she had never before. It had gnawed at her and eaten away. But it was devouring her now, and she held onto Dani's hand like it was the plug to her life- support machine. And at that moment, it might as well have been. Finally, he spoke, his words wavering. "And if I were to attempt to Floo to the Manor?"

Lexa paused. "You'd be fine."

Dani looked up sharply, questioning with his eyes along with his words. "But how?"

Lexa's eyes bore into the floor. She didn't speak. Dani's eyes searched for hers, and she finally whipped her head up and stared him in the eye. Firmly, she nodded. "Because I'll be with you."

Dani nodded solemnly. "All right."



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Something was going terribly wrong.

The colors that had surrounded Harry's Floo voyage were fading and slipping down intangible walls like dripping paint. In fact, everything seemed to be falling to a floor that wasn't there except for Harry. He couldn't see any other Floo travelers. Something knotted in his stomach, and it wasn't the turkey loaf Ropes had offered him.

"I won't panic," Harry vowed silently, but regardless of his thoughts, panic was seeping into his veins and threatening to cut off his logic. It didn't help that the wind, harsher than it ever should have been, had just stolen his wand from his hand with a single torrent of a gust. Harry grasped to hold onto both his logic and his wand, but didn't succeed at either; "There must be some, uh, technical difficulties," he assured himself, but not even the most gullible member of the Longbottom family would believe it, Harry included. How could magic have technical difficulties?

He scanned his brain for some charm or spell that could be of any use. What would happen if he apparated mid-Floo? He vaguely remembered reading about a teenage girl in Kansas names Dorothy who attempted this feat and ended up in some sort of dream-world that involved tiny Munchkins. Needless to say, it had been a disaster. Harry decided it best not to try that.

And could he summon his Firebolt IV? It didn't seem possible, considering that Floo travel was sort of in a different dimension-not to mentin that he had lost his wand. And if he did somehow get his broom, of what use would it be? Where would he fly-if he could fly, against the howling winds that threatened to drown out even his internal thoughts? It whipped his shaggy dark brown hair into his eyes, and his vision was temporarily hindered by his uncut bangs.

The Floo Operator! Of course! Harry shook his head, wondering why he hadn't thought of it sooner. At each Floo station there was an Operator that you could contact if you ran into troubles. Even though Harry had been coming from a private fireplace-at Hogwarts-the nearest Floo station should still pick up his call. Now what was that blasted word that he needed to say to get the Operator's attention? "Respicio," he bellowed. Yes, he could hear himself ever so slightly above the wind's angsty screams! It would be okay.

But Harry waited for several minutes. Where was that damn Operator? "Respicio," he said again, this time half-heartedly. No one was coming, and no one was going to. Harry Potter was no longer in the realm of the Floo Travel Network.



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When Artura Alexis had been fifteen-years-old, her father received a notice by Owl Post. "You and your family are humbly invited into our home to share in the celebration of our baby boy, Draco Adrian Malfoy-Neiman, son of Lucius Acerbus Malfoy and Narcissa Venusa Malfoy-Neiman, born at 2 a.m. on the 19th of May." Her father had read it, this note of a seemingly normal birth announcement, with tears of joy. Never had she seen him so pleased.

The date had been for the next day, May 20. "Hannah," he had barked to her mother. "Cancel our engagements for tomorrow. Narcissa has borne the child! A male child!"

Lexa had been too ignorant to understand fully the extent of why the child being a male was important, but she understood jealousy. Had her father really wanted a son so badly? She knew that, being a female, she couldn't rise quite as high in ranks as her father and his friends, but she could still follow in his footsteps and become a Death Eater. She had spent the rest of the afternoon pouting while her mother and father arranged the Portkey location, ordered champagne, and chattered cheerfully with their fellow followers via the fireplace.

Her mother awoke Lexa extra early the following morning. Lexa dressed in a poufy purple dress that she found horribly tacky and tied a white satin ribbon through her hair. Strapped in her Mary Janes, she reluctantly followed her parents through a gum wrapper Portkey.

She landed uncomfortably on a gravel path. Lexa gaped at what lay ahead of her. The Malfoy Manor. Though a place of evil, its columns and intricate exterior designs had a captivating beauty all of its own. Only a tug on her sleeve by her father could tear Lexa's awed eyes away from its grandeur.

Inside, it was even more fascinating-if possible. The portraits of Malfoy ancestors all had a majesty to them, some intangible confidence that they had kept within their frames all of these years. Each had the same perfect nose, not upturned but giving off a superiority vibe, and steel, ocean-like eyes that watched the hallways of the Manor as it inundated with influxes of followers eager to meet the heir of Voldemort's most trusted man. They were a very handsome lot, the Malfoys. Evil, but handsome.

"Conor!" exclaimed a round, busty woman as she treaded through the crowds and made a motion to embrace Lexa's father.

"Hello, Louise," he replied with a tight, unpleasant smile that made Lexa snigger as he caught her eye. The woman, Louise Bellua, wrapped her father in her thick, fatty arms, causing her father to squeak for air. His face turned a grotesque shade of purple, and he nearly collapsed on the floor as she released him from her prison-like grasp and turned to her next victim ("Ernest!" she cried out, sidestepping where Lexa's father remained gasping.).

Her mother appeared at her side, chuckling about Louise and her many victims, judging my how many men were out of breath at the affair. "Come now," she said to Lexa, taking her hand in her own. "I want to go see Cissy's baby."

The new arrival was wrapped in thick blue velvet blankets so that even his head was barely visible. His mother was standing over his cradle, cooing and at the same time shooting threatening looks at those who attempted to pick up her bundle. Lexa let herself be led to the front by her mum so that she could see the baby, who seemed quite disgruntled. And who could blame him, being fussed over by all of these old, wrinkled, bitter women, Lexa had thought.

His head, poking out of the blankets, was swathed with white-blonde curls, which Lexa thought unusual for a newborn.* And, of course, his eyes and nose matched those of Lucius and every boasting face of the hallway portraits. Yes, Lexa was certain that even this tiny child had a smug sort of sneer on his infantile lips. She ducked back into the crowd, regardless of the fact that her mother had stayed to congratulate Narcissa, or "Cissy," as her mum fondly referred to her long-time friend.

Eventually the punch ran out, all the gifts had been given, the drunks had drunken themselves silly, the women had cooed, the men had jostled, conversation weaned, and it was time to leave. As she landed on the grass by her home after using the Portkey to depart, Lexa realized for the first time how cold she had been inside the walls of the Malfoys' home.

Never had Lexa returned to the Manor.



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Until now, that is.

She clutched Daniel Chávez's hand even more tightly than before. Letting her fingers slide down to his wrist, she could feel his pulse. It was rapid, even more so than her own. She studied his eyes, but they were blank and shielded. He's scared, she knew. But he's so much stronger than I am about this. Than about everything. Dani's own father, Sevástian**, had been a Death Eater-mainly the reason why Dani hates his family name so much- until he got killed when Dani was fourteen at the hands of-whom else but- Voldemort. But Dani had always resisted. And I, Lexa sighed, wasn't as strong as him then, either.

She could hear Dani breathing beside her; he squeezed her hand and attempted to weakly smile at her. "¿Eres lista? (Are you ready?)" he asked huskily, his eyes wandering off into the embers of the fire. She didn't need to answer. Using his other hand, he rubbed the rough grains of Floo powder between his fingers in thought. Then, without allowing further hesitation, threw the fine particles into the fire and said, devoid of any feeling, "The Malfoy Manor." He anchored Lexa to him with his arm around her waist and jumped into the flames, yanking Artura Alexis with him. She would have helped in his efforts to jump, but found her body going limp with fear.



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Harry Potter noticed the difference immediately. For one thing, it was no longer so spacious and free feeling. Also, rather than being colorlessly dark, it was now simply black. Yes, he was certain that he had now landed in a pitch-black room after some sort of mishap with the Floo Network. Whatever it was, he scratched his chin, they can expect a really long complaint notice in their suggestion box come Monday.

He dusted himself off, for he had landed straight on his arse. At first his steps were uneven and shaky; it had been at least fifteen minutes since he had stepped on a solid foundation. He lifted his hands and Harry felt along the wall directly in front of him. It was hard, and most definitely stone, but the curious thing was that it felt rather damp and left his fingers feeling moist and dewy.

Harry wasn't sure if he was in the Malfoy Manor. After the accident with Floo, he could've landed anywhere. "What if," he wondered aloud, "I landed myself in a high tower prison with no door and no staircase and I'll be trapped in here forever? Even worse, what would become of Hermione?"

It can't be a tower, Harry realized, because it's so dank. Then it must be in some sort of dungeon. I'm in a dungeon. I'm in a dungeon. Can this get any worse?

Trying to calm his anxiety, Harry began to pace only to find out that the room was much too small to be considered of proper size. And Harry wasn't the claustrophobic sort; he had spent eleven years of his life in the cupboard under the stairs, and this cramped room rivaled the cupboard in small size. Harry found that its ceiling wasn't very high either when he stretched. His fingers grazed the top of the apparent cell; it was stone too. In fact, it seemed to be a human-fitted cage with stone walls instead of bars. Well, one side had bars anyway, but he could only tell by feeling around. There was no light coming in from the bars, causing Harry to conclude that it was the room that the cell was in was dark, rather than a closed cage itself.

"Crimity," Harry muttered. He was wandless, eliminating summoning his broom or his wand-if he could ever retrieve his wand from the Floo Network-he couldn't apparate without knowing his current location. What use was being a wizard if he couldn't use his powers to get out of a mess such as this?

On his last resort, Harry began feeling around the lower parts of the wall for some sort of trigger to free himself. As far as he could tell, it was simply a stone wall. His fingers were gathering even more moisture, but that was the least of his problems.

Especially when Harry's hands ran over the top of someone's skull. He froze, backing away in horror until his back hit against the opposite wall of the cage. His hands trembled. His breathing became ragged.

Harry Potter was not alone in the cell.



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*Yes, I realize not only is it improbable for a newborn to have a head "swathed" with curls, it's pretty impossible. I really wanted to distinguish the Draco-look. So let's pretend. :o) **You can spell Sevástian with an accent or without. I just shrugged and chose to use the accent.

A/N: Ok, so I was pretty mean about putting a cliff-hanger in, but oh well, deal with it. Since I sort of know where I'm going from here, it won't take too long to get the next chapter out. I finished this chapter at 5 p.m. on July 3rd-I started it yesterday, slacked off watching TV, and got back to it today-but that doesn't really matter since you won't see this for a couple weeks. Sad, I know. Now onto my next chapter of "Road trip." That's the only story so far that I don't have rady to post when uploading comes back. Not that you'll know the difference, since they'll all go up at the same time.

Thanks to chapter 10 reviewers. There were only 13, but I understand because of all the difficulties going on with fanfiction.net. The review option flickered several times, I just hoped that you enjoyed it. So, anyway, I got to go eat. Lol, writing, eating, sleeping=my summer. :o) See ya.



Adios~Escritora