Chapter Six—Sanguine Reunion

My cracked lips smile and I feel the flesh break as more of my blood begins to seep down my body. As I stare at my exposed form, I can catch sight of all the bruises and sores from the last twenty minutes. Lucius enjoyed himself; it permeated his eyes and leaked through his pores. It practically radiated off his Voldemort-ruined body.

I almost scream again when the flashbacks come -- the memory of the torture and agony pains me enough. If someone would come, I'd tell them. Ask them about it.

"Just imagine the new Muggle bottle opener -- the one with the rubber strap. Guess where he used that. . ." I glance at the open and imbrued jeans just hanging atop my hips. Snorting, I wish I'd worn boxers that night. It'd help keep my pants on.

Traveling a bit, the guest would see a red-soaked thigh, with two holes in the material. "Yeah, that was the Muggle meat fork. It seems Lucius Malfoy loathes Muggles, but doesn't mind using their kitchen utensils as weapons. . ." It would at least bring some humor to the place.

But then again I've been five days without food or water, bleeding profusely. It's a wonder I'm not dead, yet the state of my person -- you might not be able to tell. Even lifting my head is a chore. At least this means I can leave the pain behind. Not so much the physical, but the anguish of unrequited love. Soon, my body. Soon.

* * * * *

"By Merlin! What is the delay?" I strategically refrained from adding -- you've absorbed the last five days, the bloody idiot.

"Calm yourself, Mr. Malfoy. Professor Snape has completed this potion in record time." Dumbledore attempted to stop my pacing before the fireplace. Perhaps it made him as anxious as I. "I believe he found some helpful substitutions for both effect and speed."

As he finished, Snape enters, finally ready with the concoction. I unconsciously rub at my naked chest while the greasy man moves to the make- shift table by my side, in front of the fire.

"Alright, Draco. Step forward. Lupin," he nearly spat the name, "you stand opposite him."

Moving into position, I touch my chest again. This is where I will take my blood, a place that won't get in the way, they said. Normally, Lupin would cut his hand and I would slice my palm and we would grasp each other tightly, mingling fluids and becoming part of the same line. But his werewolf blood stopped that and forced Snape to use his Mastery. Yes, I will need both sets of limbs and extremities -- casting and running, I suppose.

"You may begin, Mr. Malfoy."

I hadn't realized Snape stepped away, leaving the werewolf and I alone. The cloth is covered with runes and symbols -- something for the short-term if I read them correctly. Nodding, I take the dark-handled dagger and pull the large vial closer.

"I draw my life force, voluntarily, and bring another into my line. As he consumes it, he is blood."

Lifting the blade, I drag it across my chest, hissing at the sting. This is nothing compared to what Harry must endure, a small trifle to get him back. The thick red fluid flows slowly and gathering the vial, I catch it into the potion. With my wand, I gesture and speak the incantation the Professors taught me. It bubbles and converts to a darker shade of blue, and several of the runes glow boldly as it froths.

Handing it to Remus, he states his part; though I ignore it to clean the cut and dress myself. Vaguely I note Lupin drinking the contents, but continue bandaging and cleaning before slipping into my shirt. The bandage keeps my lungs restricted with a sort of constant weight against expansion. At the last drop, however, there was a power surge that stole my attention to him. "Is it done?"

"Yes." He seems angry at this as well as anxious.

Dumbledore stirs from his seat. "You are to restore one, Harry Potter, to safety. Nothing more." With that he stares intently at me. He probably heard the death threats to my father that whispered across my mind in the last few minutes.

Walking forward he handed Lupin a Portkey. "This will take you to the edge of Malfoy Manor property. Good luck."

Before Dumbledore released the object, I stood there grasping the thick rope. I shift my gaze to Lupin's hard face as it activates, repeating the mantra in my brain.

"Hold on, Harry. Hold on." We left Hogwarts.

* * * * *

The slap echoed across the stones, I'm bleeding again.

"Where is my son?!" Lucius screams, whipping me over and over with that lethal palm. But, I'm too weak to cry out, whimper or mumble from so much blood loss. If I had the will or the strength to move my feet, I could splash in the over abundant puddles across the floor. Soon, I can feel it, soon. . .

* * * * *

We land before the cleared road to the front doors of the Manor. Two kilometers stand between the House and us.

"That leads to the front steps. My father's study is there with windows facing the road. We cannot take that path."

"Then let's take to the forest." Lupin indicates the wooded field on the right, stretching for ages across the land and past Manor property into the deep valleys beyond.

"That is a fair plan, however it opens onto the third garden where the Frouns are maintained. The river and brush bring us close to the house, inside the first garden. There are grindylows and such there, but it also passes within a meter of the dungeon doors.

"Let's take our chances with the grindylows."

At first, the river wasn't too bad, we swam comfortably, or as comfortably as fearing for the love of your life can be. My strokes were fabulously powerful, probably the adrenaline coursing through the veins and arteries of my well-muscled body.

I smirk, perfect time to be conceited, swimming in dark creature infested waters next to a werewolf, going to one of the most magically protected places in England.

"Malfoy" The insistent call pulled me back.

Lupin couldn't move, in fact he seemed to be struggling and in a massive amount of pain. "A grindylow, on my leg."

Diving beneath the surface, indeed, a grindylow clung to his leg. Along with seven others, a Granboca fish sucking his calf off and an octopus tentacle near by. I hastily revealed my wand and spouted as many spells as possible at the creatures.

The grindylows, after taking several bouts of boiling water scathingly released Lupin's leg, leaving trails of scarlet behind them. The tentacle, conversely, had pulled him under and I can see his face contort in agony. The bloody Granboca must be sucking more than trousers into his excessively large mouth, and he attempts in vain to stuff his wand in the fish's mouth. He can't wrench the thing loose, because he'd be taking part of himself with it.

Lupin will need air before anything else, and I grasp my wand tighter, casting curse after curse onto that deadly tentacle. He began to turn blue and I knew he would be gone if that bloody octopus didn't give up his prey.

Swimming up, I take a humungous breath and dive back to Lupin. As strange as it may seem, I managed to communicate what I wanted to do. His face warps in an amusing way but, thankfully, he consents and I swim forward.

Grasping his shoulders, our lips meet and I give my breath to him before I swim back to the surface to replenish my lungs and set to work on that damn tentacle. The spells wouldn't work, and we were rapidly nearing the bottom.

To our luck, and I'd celebrate if I could, the Granboca had released Lupin's calf, leaving torn trousers, a monstrous wine lump and a stream of ruby water leading toward the surface. Thank Merlin for the property of water pressure.

Without the aid of spells, I panic. Lupin will certainly drown if he is not released. Not even his sparingly muttered curses make any damage. I can't keep swimming down here for his breath. What am I going to do?

Of course.

Swimming swiftly, I took a section of the tentacle between my hands. I lower my face, quickly, before I lose my nerve and bite the bloody thing as if my own life depended on it.

Immediately, the limb releases him, and in the murky depths, two angry eyes materialize between the rocks. Oh, hell.

I grasp Lupin's forearm as I pass, hastily swimming us both through the water. His leg is almost useless from that fucking fish. Breaking the water, we gasp for oxygen, our lungs burning.

"Must -- move -- danger." I manage before pumping my arms for all their worth.

An octopus, being completely muscle, can travel at breakneck velocity and pass through any small space or crack. I don't think we'll last much longer, with that speed and agility behind us.

Any minute we'll both feel the death-wrap around our ankles, hauling and dragging us under. Any second the sweet taste of water will refresh our lungs and block the toxic gases from our bodies. Any second.

But I never felt that tug, only the strain in my arms as they continued to propel alongside Lupin's. Only the splash of water permeated the still air and we swim on.

The first garden is not as treacherous as the rest, as it was the first to be grown, and the river passed through it. Most of the flesh-eating foliage is meters back from the water line, and the two of us slipped the rest of the distance without incidence.

Reaching the shore by the dungeon entrance, I spring from the water, quickly muttering a drying spell over my robes and hair. The drips might attract unwanted attention. I hear Lupin do the same as he approaches, barely limping from sheer will, from behind

I remember the last adventure to the dungeons -- these particular hollowed rooms filled with chains, behind this wall. Pressing my palms shoulder width apart, I stare into the glinting jewel-eyes of the dragon on the Malfoy Family Crest.

"Morgana Draconis."

With the scrape of stone on stone, the wall converts itself to a gateway and we steal into the corridors easily. The sting on my chest explains the warm damp area on my shirt. The laceration has opened again. I ignore it though and halt in the hallway to concur with Lupin.

"What's the next move?"

"Well, we find Harry." He replies easily, like an insult.

I smack him on the back of the head. "I know that. How?"

"Don't you ever touch me again!" I recognized the tight and barely controlled rage in his voice, like my own, and backed away with hands raised.

"Alright, alright. Don't get your trousers in a knot."

"Are the other dungeons connected to these?"

"Yes. But only one doorway will take you to each. It's rather perplexing."

"Alright, I'll sniff him out. Just, follow me. . ."

Of course, that is much easier said than done. I feel useless, crawling behind a limping werewolf, checking where he points me. It's like I'm his loyal hound, galloping by his side and ready for his every command. No Malfoy will ever bow down to another.

Except my excuse of a father.

"Lupin, I'm going to check other rooms." And without awaiting his response, I dash in the opposite direction and out of sight.

* * * * *

"Have you no sense of your well-being?" His grip on my chin is sure to leave bruises. But it won't matter, for soon enough, I'll be leaving this place -- sleeping for eternity.

"Your pathetic little life is about to end, Mr. Potter. Go out in a blaze of grandeur and enlighten me to the location of his quarters."

He had shears, large enough to chop a tree trunk, in his talon-like hands. It has come, and I smile despite the crimson, it has come.

* * * * *

I come upon a silent, vacant room, and collapse on the stone bench. My heart beats wildly, I feel like we are running out of time. It is a miracle that Harry has lasted even this long, but I know his Gryffindor bravery and perseverance. He wouldn't give up -- I'm coming for him.

Now would be the time to confirm the oubliette report -- I can apparate and get there without the hassle of discovering its entrance. All I have to do is remember -- the book said to apparate to an unknown location: think of its name, general location. . . basically a tremendous amount of concentration.

Concentrate -- Malfoy Manor Oubliette.

The Oubliette, at Malfoy Manor. Oubliette.

* * * * *

He prowls forward, gripping the handles tightly -- the anguish will leave me, I can almost taste the release.

* * * * *

Like hot candle wax, the atmosphere around me liquefies and amalgamates into another scene -- a scene with my father, a weapon, and an extremely battered death-like Harry.

My body convulses with pain and guilt, but is frozen in place. I cannot do anything but watch -- observe as Lucius stalks forward, as Harry doesn't move, as Lucius raises the shears to the chains capturing my love's wrists, as Harry remains silent, as Lucius divides the metal with the tool, as Harry bonelessly flops to the ground, and Lucius stabs his booted leg into my love's stomach.

"No! No, no, no. . ." I finally find my voice. "You fucking bastard." It was a whisper choked in emotion -- sorrow and hatred.

Lucius pivots and faces me. "Now, now, Draco, you shouldn't speak what you do not mean." That predatory smile crystallizes his features and he saunters to me, behind me.

He clenches my shoulder, leaning into my ear. "Has no one told you he's not breathing?"