Chapter Five—Gory Sweat

The aura of the man billowed about him like an arctic chill. Even through his gloved hand on my shoulder the cold spread. But the sensation didn't alter much, the vacancy inside welled as his cold endeavored to conquer. The words like frost stir past my ear, but I just stare ahead, ignoring the shadow behind me.

"We shall take leave, you and I."

That iron grip propels me from the window and through my open door. Silently, he ushers my body across the hall, down the stairs--but what did it matter? The Dursley's would never notice, Hedwig was gone; only those wards around Privet Drive would give any indication I've gone missing.

Ice chills my lungs and seeps through my veins as he forces me to take one treacherous step after another. I could scream, call out for my aunt and uncle. I could cause alarm and wake Mrs. Figg. I could make a sudden movement to break his grip and run. I could; but why?

Like father and son, we travel down the sidewalk, his claw on me, directing me, driving me to the end of the road, past the park, down another street to the dark alley behind the Mom and Pop grocery store on the other side.

Lucius pierces me with his slate gaze. "Shall we?"

I realize I face him as both talon-equipped hands clutch my shoulders. And in a moment, the world around us dissolves and remodels itself, like a kaleidoscope before my eyes. We stand in a dark room; I can hear water leaking off in the distance as the distinct smell of forgotten blood and aged skin stealthily assault my nostrils.

My features contort as that man forces me against the wall, raising my hands above my head in the process.

"Welcome to your new abode, Mr. Potter," Lucius sneers as he shackles my wrists, "Welcome to the Malfoy Manor Oubliette." He backs away and my feet make slight contact with the ground. I hadn't known he held me. Now he rakes his gaze over my stretched torso, I feel the manacles biting into my skin as he smiles triumphantly.

"Goodnight, Mr. Potter."

He was gone, and I am alone.

* * * * *

I awoke to find nothing has changed, except the trickle of light from a window I cannot see. He hasn't come to visit me, no one has, the last four days. This knowledge came to me by that window. I've watched the early morning sun filter through to splash on the floor and the dusky light tinge the stone in orange-gold.

I've practically memorized this place: walls of stone, three shelves on the right. It's like a ten-foot square hole that's been slabbed in granite, sixty meters deep. The place for people to forget about--and Lucius has done a wonderful job with that.

My arms have grown three inches it, seems, as blood drips down from my wrists. But it's nothing compared to the inside. First Sirius, my one hope, my only true father figure. Voldemort, the bloody fucking bastard, utilized my love for him to destroy me. Only something went wrong and he took Sirius as well.

Then Draco came. Annoying, stubborn, arrogant git, he waltzed into my world, and for nearly four weeks, brought life back into my spirit. He gave me something that smoothed the edges of the pain and began to fill that void. It seemed I could become the old Harry Potter, with new experience and someone I loved to be with me.

But that was stolen too. Ripped from me, without a second chance.

"He was mine."

The whispered words escape my chapped lips as my chin reaches my chest. The contact burns, like I shouldn't, like the defeat hasn't full control yet.

"He was never yours."

His arctic drawl sounds in front of me. I can see his cloaked form just meters away. "He is mine, and I will have him home, where he belongs."

"Draco left you years ago. He always-auh!"

Lucius withdrew his fist from my stomach. "Never speak my son's name. It is not for rodents like you to tarnish."

I watch him through gritty glasses sweep around and uncover an array of metal sticks from a shelf. He touches them reverently, whispering his fingertips across the crystalline surfaces before he unclasps his cloak and flays it onto the shelf above.

"You have tainted my son long enough, and it is time for redemption."

Tainted. Perhaps that is what Draco thinks of me. I taint him. Like a poisonous gas he couldn't evade without leaving entirely--I would have killed him.

I struggle to hold back tears of air, for there is not enough water left in me to cry. This man, this creature, will not witness such an act. Though I have lost everything else, my love for Draco and my dignity remain.

A love that will not be returned. Our fate was doomed before we began. And yet, I cannot help but remember the stray fringe that would brush in his eyes after he woke from sated slumber; or the etched lines of passion in his features as we made love.

Is it possible the last month was just an act? Could it have been a conspiracy? I will not deny my mind wishes to embrace this, that I may hate the boy for this pain. But my heart knows better, knows Draco spoke the truth and loves him more for it.

The boiling agony in my shoulder tore me from my thoughts and I cry out. I had been so engrossed, I did not realize Lucius had taken one of those steel rods and approached me.

Now both prongs sink into my flesh, piercing through muscle and hitting bone, like a barbeque fork in chicken breast. Lucius mercilessly rams it further and further into me until it remains erect, unaided. The pressure in my shoulder waxes and wanes with every heaving breath I take.

"And now we begin." Those crystalline orbs flash as he produces a shimmering blade, twisted, like his soul.

It was hard to concentrate on his hands when my shoulder felt as if it were on fire. My eyes have a will of their own and want to keep closed. It was something ethereal to even peer through the slits of my lids into a blurry world of fire to watch Malfoy Sr. as he rips my shirt apart with that crooked dagger, as he tears the scraps from my chest, as he lightly traces lines along my flesh with the icy point.

"Such design--sun warmed flesh." He chuckled as I hissed from the horizontal icicle display of blood trickling down my stomach in addition to the trails on my arms and side.

Against my struggle, I whimper. But it encourages him and even as my face contorts in anguish, Malfoy pounds the fork like a nail with his knife.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter," he pauses to savor the small gasping sounds that slip from me, "where is my son?"

I strangled a scream in my throat. "It's September," I hiss as he draws on the rod, sliding it out one centimeter from my skin. "You should know that."

"Like father, like son." With one swift movement, he yanked down on the spear and pulled it from my flesh amid my screams, stretching and tearing my ligaments as a new ocean of blood pours forth. I shouted myself hoarse before I collapse, heaving while my scarlet fluids pool at my feet.

"Perhaps tomorrow you will have learned the manners your father never could." He ran his fingers along the rod, coating them with crimson. "Goodnight, Mr. Potter."

Just as he had come, Lucius leaves, silent and cold as the snow.

* * * * *

A roaring in my ears of rushing blood and a blinding pain awoke me some hours later. My head pounds and my features feel like they are slowly being boiled off. I open my eyes, but only so far, they've swollen slightly. The pounding near my temples increases as the light penetrates my slited lids. After the blazing white dies, I can make out a pacing form. Lucius Malfoy's pacing form.

He appears completely disheveled, and I chuckle only to gasp in torment as my chest severs and my sides tear. His hair is in disarray, strands wisping about everywhere. The normal attire of immaculate robes has gone, and he stands in his elegant cream and white clothing, attempting the angelic nobleman.

In his hand is a glass, short, frosty and filled with amber liquid. Brandy attacks my nostrils as the blurred Lucius stumbles toward me.

I recognize mumbling through the ringing in my ears before my lids slam shut and I squeal in pain. He punched me. And from his ramblings and alcohol stained breath, he's been doing so for quite some time. My screaming limbs and puffy face are evidence enough of that. If a mirror hung in this god-forsaken place, I could most likely witness the dried and flowing blood all over my bruised body.

"...Undermine me!" Lucius shuffles my direction and raises his leather-clad foot. In slow motion, I can only watch as the booted extension makes splattering contact with my shin. Again, I shriek my pain, but he takes no notice. I don't even think he realizes I'm awake.

Fingers slake through my hair and then grasp chunks only to pull ruthlessly. I meet violently frigid eyes as my head jerks up.

"Where's my son?"

My mind snorts, like I'd ever tell you. But I remain silent, and with the little strength I still carry, I reclaimed control of my head. The movement must have done something for he recaptures my skull and his hand drifts over my collarbone, my necklace.

"Well, well, what do I see? A trinket, Potter?" He lifts it from my skin, admiring the chain. "It's beautiful. Too much so for a rapscallion like you."

Had the man been sober, and his words elegantly articulate, this would have infuriated me. But the spittle and imbalance almost made the situation ludicrous. Almost; I am chained to the ceiling and half-naked being tortured by my lover's father. A pinch on my neck and Lucius had ripped the necklace from me and ragefully slammed it to the floor.

Straightening again, he drills into my eyes, then raises his hand and slaps me. The force tossed my head to the side and caused a trail of red from the corner of my mouth and a murderous sting on my cheek.

I keep my head averted and seal my lips, determined not to voice anything. He will not receive any sort of satisfaction.

"I am disgusted." Audibly spitting, Lucius disappears.

* * * *

"Alright. Ten o'clock, I have everything..." even the weight of a broken heart.

But I don't have everything. I don't have Harry. God, why do I keep thinking about him?

"Because I love him." I love him.

My nerves are raw, tense and taught, I might see him again. I both anticipate and dread it. What if I explain to him, about the danger? About everything? That I love him? Could we survive?

But I cannot: my happiness is not valued more than Harry's life, and if I must sacrifice it for him, then so be it. One year I must endure, watching as he finds a girlfriend--probably that Granger. I will envy her greatly.

Walking into the kitchen I grab some breakfast, though I hardly feel like eating. Ten-thirty, time to go. Thankfully I learned that shrinking charm and I spell my effects to pocket size.

Stepping out into the corridor, I glance around, checking for Muggles. The scene melts before me and rearranges into bricks and steam. I gaze skyward, right to a sign that states: "Platform 9 3/4, Hogwarts Express."

My muscles move quickly and I gain entrance to a vacant compartment, where I restore my trunk and secure it. This trip, I would rather avoid my inane morons and keep my own company. Thus I carefully lock the door and seal it with a spell. And as an extra precaution, I conjure one of those tags with: "Sorry for the inconvenience, this area under construction." Now I am certain to be left to my own devices.

The duration seemed longer this time. I cannot count the number of attempts I made at the door, to search out Harry and talk to him, no, just look at him. By now, he must be fine, completely over our "summer fling," but it was more than that. I love him.

The train neared Hogsmeade, I remember the scenery vividly. The normal schedule, changing into Hogwarts robes, scolding Crabbe for soling his stomach with the chocolate frogs, Goyle laughing stupidly and then the pathetic brawl, was absent. Strangely, it felt pleasing to be away from the monotony.

As soon as I finished dressing, we pulled into the station. Now, I just had to catch a carriage; then I could silkily glimpse him from across the Hall.

Wait a few moments for the bustle of students to exit before I withdraw the sign and spell. Stealthily, I remove myself from the train and confidently yet swiftly move to the transport. I can see them in view, lined up and waiting. A few more meters...

"Hey, Malfoy!"

Shocked, I stop. "Yeah, Goyle?" I say in more of a statement, annoyed. I have to put on a show for them. At least it wasn't Harry. I do not believe I could have survived a confrontation with him.

"Where've ya been? We were searching the train for you." Crabbe came lumbering behind him. I turn and face them.

"That's my own business. I didn't want you interrupting." The have seem me use this language before. Hopefully they get the point. Both stare at me like I'm a god. "Well. Let's go." I don't know how I manage it, but I sound as always.

I cannot recall the last minutes, only that I stayed in annoyed silence as the two quarreled. Now I sit flanked by the idiots in the glittering golden Great Hall. We received three new Slytherins--all looking just like I did. Before Dumbledore took the platform, I chance another peek at the Gryffindor table. Harry wasn't anywhere near by.

"So many faces new mingled with old, and all I have to say is..." he claps thrice, "shall we?" With his signature smile he returns to his seat and begins serving himself.

This feast was one to rival the Manor's cook. It would have been perfect, had I witnessed piercing green eyes and striking black hair next to frizzy brown and fiery red. But, Harry was missing. He has to be somewhere on Dumbledore's orders. He is protected by the plethoric wards and spells for anything atrocious to happen.

Even as I comfort myself with these mantras, I know they are fallacious. Something is wrong, dreadfully wrong.

* * * *

Drip. Drip. Drip.

That is my lullaby every night, the slow agonizing path of moldy water around the dungeons. But I can't even be in the dungeons, can I? No, Lucius has to put me in a bloody oubliette. With one window. And the symbol of our relationship a meter away.

I don't believe Lucius realized the torture in that. Gazing at my prized possession, close enough to note all the detail, yet far enough away I cannot reach it. Just like I can't reach Draco.

* * * *

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape's familiar drone halts my progress to the Dungeons. "The Headmaster would like a word."

I incline my head, whereupon Snape whips about and leads me into the small room adjacent to the Great Hall. The room where the Triwizard Champions convened after being chosen.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Malfoy. Please, take a seat." The Headmaster waves to the couch. "Thank you, Professor Snape."

Snape made a small bow before exiting and leaving me alone with the Headmaster.

"I won't ramble on, and we can do pleasantries some other time. Mr. Malfoy, Draco, do you know where Harry is?"

"You mean, you don't?" Harry is gone. My Harry--missing. Lucius must have him, but how? Harry was so well protected, what happened to the wards? My heart beating fast, and my breath just as rapid, my thoughts turn to the worst--Harry could be dead.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry could be dead, by my father's hand. Bile rose at the thought along with loathing. How am I to get Harry back? Fear and pain rip through my chest. Can I reach him? Planning and anticipation. Will he be all right? Love.

"Mr. Malfoy!" The Headmaster has gripped my shoulders and shaking me awake. "Mr. Malfoy, kindly pay attention." He smiles, the twinkle in his eye briefly flashing before his features become stone-like again.

"Harry left his home last night," Dumbledore waves his wand and creates a sort of screen with white figures moving. Presumably this is wizarding surveillance. "As you can see, he was approached by someone from behind and taken through the house." The figures move accordingly, " and then the two leave the confines of the wards. Now," he rewound the images, "notice the position of them, close and touching."

I nod, though confused as to what this leads to.

"In such a position, we believed the second figure to be you, Mr. Malfoy."

My astonishment is covered easily by my façade. "And why would you believe it so?"

The twinkle returns. "I know a few things, Draco, like Tuesdays and Saturdays."

Anyone else in the room would believe the Headmaster to have lost his marbles. "I see."

"Yes, and this reason we believed Harry to be safe. That you had brought Harry to your place for the night, and to take him to the Hogwarts Express in the morning."

"So, where is he?"

"With your father."

I jump from my seat and curse loudly, oblivious to the Headmaster for a moment. It wasn't in shock, of course. I knew it could only be him, but I still didn't want it to be. I wanted to believe it was something else, something I had no connection with.

"Headmaster, what are we doing? Do we have full deploy?" Remus Lupin, clutching some paper in his hand, burst through the room's door, obviously too frantic to knock, the rude bloke. I can see from his appearance-- unshaven face, disheveled robes, fraying hair, worried eyes -- that he just jumped from bed.

"Sit, Remus, this is the subject of Mr. Malfoy's conversation with me." The old man gestures to a seat next to me. Cautiously I reclaim the chair, looking from Lupin to the Headmaster and back because they weren't talking.

"Well? Do we have a plan?" I ask, a tinge too arrogantly.

Lupin frowns and purses lips before lifting the parchment in his hand. "This just came from Hedwig, Professor. It's from Harry." That was needless. Anything from Hedwig was from Harry.

"Please, Remus, would you mind reading it?"

He glances at me, a bit suspicious of my presence. "It is a bit of a personal letter." He begins, but the Headmaster waved his hand.

"That's fine, we all know Harry intimately."

Lupin stares, disbelieving, in my direction before reluctantly continuing. After all, who can dismiss Dumbledore's orders?

"'Dear Remus, I need your advice. I just had a relationship end,'" is that what Harry thought about us? "' but I don't think I can accept it.'" Why not? Didn't Harry get over it by now? Why is he still dejected? "' I mean, I think about this person all the time,'" Just like I do. "'and I remember everything we spoke about.'" Not all the conversations were extremely interesting but I had memorized them as well. "' I even think this person more than liked me,'" Grotesque understatement, Harry. I love you. "' it was in their eyes,'" I've been told they are too expressive, "' every moment implied, but never declared.'" I can't just bounce right up and say it, can I? The vulnerability of it scares me to injury, but I'll never admit that. "' If you have anything to help, please send it back soon. Love, Harry.' What he was thinking to send a letter like this, I don't know. He needs advice, I'm sure of that, but he's never been in a relationship before, he would have said something to me—and whom do you become involved with in a Muggle neighborhood? It seems unlikely that he would create an attachment to anyone there. What does it mean that he--"

I want to shout at him, scream to both of them. It means he feels something for me! That I can love him and someday he might love me back. My chest seems weightless as my heart soars to a place where I might find love, happiness, Harry.

But I speak none of this. I stare at the spot on the wall above the Headmaster's left shoulder. I may have that hope, but just the thought of my father and anxiety grips like a vise around my lungs. Lupin peruses the words again, catching a phrase, glancing at me, returning to the parchment, staring my direction. What is he thinking?

"It means Harry has been abducted, Remus. Nothing more."

Lupin stares at me again, and I watch as his features morph from curiosity to a sort of blank understanding.

"You!" He had leapt from his seat, pointing at me, slowly advancing. My breathing speeds as tension and slight fear capture me. I school my face into cool composure, yet I know my eyes betray my emotions. They always have.

"Remus! Calm yourself. Mr. Malfoy is here to help us."

"Help? Are you certain, Headmaster? This is a Malfoy, and his kind is known for their deviousness, cunning and schemes. I wouldn't be surprised if this was all planned from the start with him in the middle of it all." Like that gave enough evidence to convict me. His voice so blatantly stated his contempt for my standing and my innocence in the abduction.

"A Malfoy has taken Harry, Remus. Lucius, not Draco. Now, please sit down." My father's name converts my vitals to ice, slithering and deceitful, the bloody bastard. The Headmaster now turns his piercing gaze to me, and some of that chill melts. "Tell us about Malfoy Manor, Draco." A polite request cloaking the concrete and steel of its purpose.

I flinch slightly at my name. That tone has been spoken solely by my father and the memories puncture my heart with an ice pick. Moving forward in the chair, I clear my throat. Can I speak?

"Sir, I do not understand." It sounds throaty and hoarse, nothing like my cool drawl I normally summon on such occasions.

"How many rooms are there? Do you have dungeons? What about the grounds? Just pretend you are a travel agent explaining the sites. . ."

I thought better than to ask him what a travel agent was, probably something Muggle…

Clearing my throat again, I move further forward in my seat. "Malfoy Manor has 137 rooms," I hesitate. Did he want all the details? It seemed he did, but this felt like betraying generations of Malfoys, betraying Lucius. "Forty-nine of which are hidden in the walls and floor as well as the kitchen area. From my knowledge, they are the House Elf quarters. We have three sets of dungeons built during the Dark Ages for thieves. Now they store 'dangerous materials.' Four sections of gardens around the House provide mazes and man-eating plants if their locations are unknown to the visitor. There are several wards protecting the Manor including the Magnum Mirror, Sangui Detection, Bone Blood Frouns. And once I heard mentioned the House owned an oubliette at the focal point of the dungeons, but I've never visited or confirmed the rumor." Bloody bastard.

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes returns, and if I thought it possible, I would claim he could read minds.

"Do you need anything else?"

* * * *

I open my eyes, everything is white. I'm floating, my arms move about me, flapping like wings. The pain is gone, I am free.

"You shall never be free." The black words echoed in this pure place. It cannot be, they must be false. "You are mine until your death."

* * * *

"Sangui Detection will be difficult to maneuver around, Professor."

Lupin would know, he was Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Yes. But there is something we can do, Remus."

"You cannot be serious. You mean—no."

"Mr. Malfoy, do you understand the Sangui Detection?"

"No, sir." I never took the time to decipher that particular spell. It seemed to be a waste of my life if all I was to do was live in the gilded cage known as my home.

"The Sangui Detection Charm is a blood sensing device. The caster, after performing quite complicated wand movements and chanting, spills their blood and seals the charm. Then, the designated area is monitored by content of blood. Anyone not of the caster's lineage will be dutifully recorded and watched." I stare at him. One of my ancestors was a kook. "For anyone to be on the property undetected, they need to be of Malfoy ancestry." This time, he gawped pointedly at me. Supposedly, I am expected to know what he means by this. There is no plan and I do not understand what he is hinting.

"We need Professor Snape, Headmaster."

"Not yet, Remus. Mr. Malfoy, we need your blood. Are you willing to sacrifice that?"

I am quiet for a moment, letting my seriousness and determination seep into the silence. Dumbledore, of course, can already sense my decision with his bright eyes, but Lupin must hear it from my own lips, must realize that I am innocent.

"To save Harry, yes."