Let's Play a Game, Chapter 4

The Game of Blood

Please Read and Review. I'd like to know what I'm doing right (to keep doing it), and what I'm I doing wrong (to correct it).

Draco Malfoy's awareness came back painfully. He tried to remember what in Merlin's name had happened. Last thing he remembered was a sudden pain at the back of his head and a bright light coming from somewhere inside his own head.

He groaned as his hand went to rub his pained scalp, and realized he could not move.

"What?" He grumbled, opening his eyes. He found himself laying on a thin and narrow mattress, his body restrained by leather straps. "What's going on? Don't you know who I am?My father will…"

A shrill voice interrumped his tirade. "…Hear of this. A phrase I'm very familiar with, I can assure you, Mr. Malfoy. And for once, he is already aware of your predicament." The words were distorted somehow, he couldn't even say if the speaker was male or female.

Draco looked around, following the voice, and located an ugly figure at his left. It was a strange puppet, dressed like a Healer, riding a small broom and flying lazily around him. It had a white face with a red spiral on each cheek, eyes completely black, and a messy mop of black, spiky hair.

"Look between your feet, Mr. Malfoy." The figure instructed.

With effort, Draco raised his head and looked at his father, similarly restrained on a metal frame, wearing a ludicrous garment that looked like a sleeping robe. However, his mouth had a leather muzzle, as if he was an animal. His head was firmly restrained, the elder Malfoy couldn't even shake his head or nod.

The puppet flew into Draco's field of vision again. "You are in a… let's just say this is the Muggle equivalent to Saint Mungo."

"You'll go to Azkaban for this!" Draco struggled against his bindings. "You can't kidnap two respectable citizens just like that! The Wizengamot..!"

"Will do nothing. They don't know you are here. They don't know you are missing. You don't know where you are. The whole place is under subtle wards and equipped with so many security measures the Goblins would pay in blood just to look at the arythmantic equation for a minute. In short. You cannot escape, you cannot call for help, and no one will ever find you."

"What do you want? Money? Influence?" Draco decided to change his approach. "Malfoy House is wealthy and influential. Name your price. What do you want?"

The puppet chuckled, the lower half of its face moving up and down. "I want to play a game. It's one you two are very well suited to play, I assure you."

"A game?" Draco turned his head to follow the flying puppet.

"A game. If you win, you'll be released without any harm."

"And if I lose?"

"You won't have anything to worry about then." The puppet chuckled again. A bead of sweat rolled down Draco's forehead. The threat was clear.

"I won't lose." He said.

"Admirable optimism!"

"How's the game played?"

"Let me apprise you of your situation. Your father and you are very vocal about the worth of blood, aren't you? Blood purity and all that. In short, that some blood is better than other. Isn't that so?" Draco had to turn his head again. "Let's put that belief to the test, shall we?"

"What? But it's clear to see! Purebloods are the best! Then Halfbloods, Mudbloods, Squibs and Muggles at the bottom! That's the natural order of things!"

"And yet, you, the very best example of a Pureblood scion from an old Wizarding House with impecable ancestry (according to you and your cronies) have been constantly upstaged by a Half-blood and a Mudblood, isn't that so? According to your belief, that's just not possible. Oh, yes. I know everything about your one-sided rivalry with Potter and Granger. To be honest, they have more important matters to attend to consider you a worthy enemy. You are just an… annoyance." The puppet chuckled again.

Draco was about to start a magnificent rant, but an electric shock ran through his body, but he didn't hear any magic word or a wand pointing at him.

"Please keep a civil tone. We don't have time for angry tirades, we are here to play a game, nod if you understand."

Draco nodded convulsively. His muscles trembled uncontrollably.

"The effect will be minimal by the time we're done with the explanation, don't worry about that. It will not impede your playing."

With a noise of clanking chains, Draco's platform was raised and inclined, so he could have a clear view ahead."

"You each have a… there's no Wizarding equivalent, but muggles call it 'intravenous needle' inserted into a very important vein in each of your arms. It can work in very interesting ways. They can use it to feed nutritious solutions directly into the blood of patients who can't feed themselves or even swallow. They can also use it to administer medicines, their potions, to the blood."

"That's barbaric!"

"But effective." The puppet flew slowly around Draco again. "Muggles know a lot about blood, they had to learn, as they have no blood replenishing potions. Instead of potions, they have an interesting procedure they call 'blood transfusion'. If a muggle is gravely wounded and loses a lot of blood, some other muggle can share a bit of their own blood with the first one. Of course, it has its difficulties. The amount of blood taken is limited, and the wounded muggle might need more than what one muggle can safely give. Oh, try not to turn that shade of green, Malfoy. It's disgusting."

"Now, where was I?" The puppet stopped its flight. "Oh, yes. They organize events so any healthy and generous Muggle can give blood to be used later. Their Healers store that blood in special places, and use it when needed."

"So? They are just animals."

"Muggles and wizards are more alike than you'd like to think, but I guess if you admit that, you'd also admit you're not so special."

Next to Lucius, a pair of cabinets rolled close, stopping at his sides. Lucious' eyes opened in alarm. "So, the game is this. We will find out, once and for all, which's the best blood." A strange, transparent hose rose like a snake from one of the cabinets. And like a snake, bit on Lucius' arm. "Let's pretend for a moment that Lucius here is in a giving mood. As you can see, his blood is now flowing out his arm, to a small bag down there."

"What? Will you put my Father's blood into a filthy Muggle? You won't give magic to a dirty Muggle, you monster!"

"Maybe later." The puppet nodded. "The thing is, right now, Lucius Malfoy is losing blood. If he loses enough, he'll lose consciousness, and sometime later, will die."

"No! What kind of sick game is this?"

"Easy, Draco. That's just the preparative stage. Look at the other cabinet."

The doors opened, and there were several bag filled with red liquid. "Each bag has blood donated, sometimes not so willingly, by either a Pureblood, a Half-blood, a Muggleborn, a Squib, and a Muggle. Lucius will lose enough blood to need two of those bags. Your choice, the device is next to your wand hand."

Draco looked down, and there was a box with five buttons barely in reach of his fingers. "The bags and the buttons are clearly marked. PB, HB, MB, S, and M. One more thing, just in case you feel tempted to say… hurry up your ascension to head of House Malfoy..." Two cabinets rolled next to Draco. "..You will receive the same exact treatment, ten minutes after you have made your choices. Use the time before Lucius bleeds to death to think on what you will chose. Personally, I think you'll do best if you chose the Muggle blood, they know more about blood than the wizards. But that's my opinion."

The puppet flew away, humming a melody Draco didn't recognize.

"More John Smiths?" Asked the coroner.

"Yes, two more."

"Well… let's see what can we find, shall we?"

"Massive organ failure? Both of them?"

"Both, and it's not a common cause. This is either a murder case, or the worst case of incompetence I have ever seen. My money is on murder."

"Explain."

"Both John Smiths were perfectly healthy. No wounds beyond punctures in the inner side of the elbows, consistent with intravenous needles. No medical conditions that would require surgery."

"Go on."

"The blood tests show a mix of three blood types. All incompatible. Somebody transfused the wrong blood type. Twice. In my opinion, it was deliberate."