Hear the screams ring out

Training young wizards was more trying that the Lestrange had imagined it would be. He had always had a flair for the dark arts—and had been tutored in them from the time he was permitted to hold a wand. He had orchestrated an exercise for his little band of wannabe assassins tonight. They had made a raid on one of the mudblood apartments. It had gone well enough. A few of the trainees were too soft for this liking. He had seen the flash of fear and resistance when he had executed one of the younger mutts. Rabastan as a bit disappointed to be honest. He had believed those under his oversight understood their role in this new world. They were swift executioners. They were those who could and would acquire any needed information using whatever means was necessary. They could not be timid. They were required to be the most fierce, cold and calculating of all those under the banner of the Ministry of Magic.

The Lestrange had sent his underlings off to deliver up all the bodies they had ushered into death into the crypt where he did his necromancy—he had no more patience for the lot of them. It was a miracle he had not executed one of his own on this night. Some of those aspiring to be hit wizards underneath him were bumbling idiots. Rabastan was not the wisest of men, but he was well bred and broadly educated. He had not been expected to work when he graduated Hogwarts, but his father had wanted him to do something to keep busy—and ideally an undertaking that would not smear the family name. So, Rabastan had gone to university. He spent five years there—studying intoxicants and the workings of the mind. Both of which he still delighted in twisting up beautifully.

The darkness pressed down on him as he walked along, but he was not yet ready to return to the castle he called his home. The ancestral home of his family should have been somewhere he was eager to return to, but that had never been the case. It really was time for him to seek an estate of his own. He wasn’t even sure where he’d want to start looking. Perhaps he’d make his home in Scotland—take one of the older castles there as his own. If he were a wiser man more accustomed to romantic relationships, he might have thought to speak to Lady Finley on the matter, but such a notion never even entered his mind as he wandered all the streets of the hovel they had confined the mudbloods to.

It was late, nearly an hour past the latest curfew for the residents here. The wizard approved of the silence. His footsteps were magically concealed, so he did not break the quiet. It was all encompassing…and it let him best commune with his late sister-in-law. Bellatrix was strong with him now. She was nearly corporeal—the wizard could see her so clearly in his mind. Her company came and went, but he much preferred her to be with him if he was otherwise alone. The man truly did not do well alone. Before Azkaban, he had been content in only the company of himself, but after—he really never wanted it now. So, he carried the beautiful brunette in his mind and she was his companion when all others were gone from him.

Pride comes before the fall

Devin was angry. More than angry really, he was pissed enough to do something absolutely foolish. Sasha had gotten under his skin—she had hurt him. Not that he would ever say that, but her talking about going off to shag Jesse had just been the beginning. That he didn’t really worry about---he had not explicitly told his mate to steer clear of the blonde, but Jesse had to know. Devin had basically claimed Sasha by guy code. His mate wasn’t going to get up on her… He hoped. He had no doubt that if Sasha Violet Augustine really wanted to get with Jesse that the witch could make turning her down really bloody difficult…and if she did that, could he really blame Jesse for giving in? A man is only so strong, after all.

But her and Jesse, that wasn’t even it. That had just been the beginning. The core of what had driven him out of the flat wasn’t his mate…It was himself---well, him and Sasha and whatever they were. He didn’t understand what had even happened with the pair of them tonight. They had taken little verbal jabs back and forth at each other---He’d said some things; she’d said some things…and somehow it had all come down to him asking her what she wanted from him and her saying nothing. The exchange was far from the meanest thing Sash had ever said to him. Girl could be a right bwitch when she wanted to be, which honestly was basically all the bloody time.

So, why did that one word cause him to spin out so much?! It didn’t even make sense. Nothing did about whatever was going on with them these days. His mind was spinning and he was hurt. He didn’t like it. Stupid, stubborn idiot that he was, he’d said fuck curfew and just made a beeline to get out of the flat. It was basically one o’clock in the morning, or just about it. Everyone in Kolna was supposed to be inside—even the ‘adults’ were all in their flats. Curfew for the minors was at seven and the rest of the muddies were supposed to be in at midnight, he was pretty sure about that anyway.

But here he was, taking steps two at a time to get away from that witch. He just had to get out—he needed air. He needed to walk. He needed to shake whatever this nonsense was that had a grip on him. The boy was sneaky. He could keep to the shadows. He wouldn’t get noticed. He wasn’t going to get himself caught. That definitely wasn’t going to happen.

The chill of the night air was welcome, but as much as he wanted to just walk down the road—to just burn energy. He knew that was a bad idea. So, Devin decided to just settle for a smoke. Surely, the embers from his cigarette would not burn brightly enough for any guard to notice. There had been a light over the door out onto the street, but it had been busted out for as long as he could remember. So, the stoop for the building was dark. The flash of fire from his lighter was closely guarded by his hand as he lit the spliff. The first inhalation was not as soothing as he hoped it would be.

He was still thinking about her…

Bellatrix squealed and clapped in delight when Rabastan caught sight of a brief flash of flame up ahead. He had been standing frozen in the middle of the darkened street for some time now---held captive there by the brunette construct of his imagination, or the haunting of her, whatever she was…but his Bellatrix had been trying to coax him into another building. She wasn’t sated by the executions he had perpetrated earlier. She wanted something else—something more visceral to enjoy. The witch had always favored torture….

And now, this foolish unsuspecting soul had offered them self up to the altar of the infamous witch.

A crooked, sinister smile spread over Rabastan’s face. His sanity was slipping rather far tonight. He had forgotten his potions and going without them turned the man quite dark. He needed the elixirs he so constantly abused to keep him from the depths of the darkest depression and psychosis. Glassy eyes failed to focus as Bellatrix’s voice grew sharp and cold. She often got impatient with him—her wicked tongue lashed as harsh words bit into him. The verbal assault was a cruel beating to a man trying so hard to rebuild himself from the broken state prison had reduced him to.

His movements were jerky as he took the first steps forward. It was always hard coming out of her grasp and back to reality. She wasn’t completely letting go of him now either. She was still there, but she could not stand for any catonia. It was of utmost importance that he close the distance between himself and the mudblood. In time, he managed to regain proper control over his person and he moved with the agility of a man made for the hunt. Truly, Rabastan was the predator and this unsuspecting bloke was his prey.

”Naughty, naughty, naughty,” Rabastan sang out when he got within earshot of the unknown mudblood. A bit of wandless magic caused his voice to echo and bounce about, making it impossible to discern where the words had come from. His prey would have no idea which direction Rabastan was descending on him from.

Devin had just about finished his spliff when he heard the voice. A single word assaulted him from all sides and he hung his head. Nearly a year of being careful—of keeping to the rules—one time he takes this chance and this happens… He was about to die—or at best, he would be wishing for death.

He didn’t try to run. There was no point. He just took another hit, praying to whatever gods that might be out there that this would be over quickly…that he could go out on this last dance with Mary Jane, feeling the little bit of peace that came from his high. The thought flashed in his mind that maybe Sasha would even miss him. He should have been more angry with her now than before, but he could only find feelings of disappointment for himself in this moment. Why had he gone outside? There was no reason for him to do that. He should have just smoked on the stairs or something. Or just gone into the kitchen. Or anything other than this dumbass decision.

It was too late for that, though. No place for regrets in the present. He had made his decision and now he was dealing with the consequences.

Content Warning: Torture!


The figure did not respond. Rabastan took a short moment to consider this, rolling around the possible motivations for the silence in his mind. Was this quiet acceptance? That would hardly do. Bellatrix wanted screams. She did not want submission or subservience—she wanted him to break someone for her. And he could not deny her anything. He had never been able to.

These days, to torture made him feel closer to her. He honored her memory with the screams of the animals they caged here. He remembered her in every execution of her favored spells. The witch was gone, but surely not forgotten.

”Breaking the rules requires a punishment,” Rabastan taunted. He wandlessly conjured a ball of light that illuminated the space—he set it hovering in the air so that it would cast it's light across the expanse between the wizard and the apartment building. The unknown figure resolved into a young man, clearly strong and fit, probably not yet of age or only just barely. It would feel good to break such youthful vigor. Rabastan could just see Bellatrix in his peripheral. The beauty was skipping and clapping maniacally. This was exactly what she had hoped for.

There was no need to produce his wand, though he carried the conduit, tucked within the billowing blackness of his robes. He had worn very traditional Death Eater garb this evening---none of the bright, flamboyant colors he favored in the day. Tonight was to have been a lesson in covert operation. One's stealth was greatly enhanced by an all black ensemble. He rather wished he had his old mask. Rabastan had loved the skull with all its teeth. The beautiful creation had been molded by his own hand and adorned with the teeth of his various victims---not all of them, of course. No mask could hold such decoration and be worn by a man.

Yes, it would have been fun to wear the old thing. He had often gotten drunk on the fear the mask inspired. Would it have scared this child? The boy did not seem particularly frightened now, but more resigned to this fate. It took a bit of the fun out of it. Rabastan had been ready for a chase. He would have enjoyed the cat and mouse play….but this boy wasn't running. He wasn't even making excuses or muttering apologies. That was fine. Rabastan would make him beg for mercy soon enough. The cacophony of the mudblood's screams would echo down this lane.

A whip of the Death Eater's wrist jerked the boy away from the building, sending the mudblood flying forward until he crashed into the ground at Rabastan's feet. Somehow the kid had held onto the spliff in his hand and Rabastan plucked it away, immediately turning the embers on the kid. He pressed the spliff down against the boy's bare skin, his other hand holding Devin's head still as Rab pressed burning the center of the mudblood's forehead with it until the embers were nothing but ash. A sharp comment came from the Lestrange about fire being another violation to the rules. Discarding the spent spliff, Rabastan pushed the boy back towards the ground. 

Content Warning: Torture!


Devin was trying to keep his cool. He was doing his very best not to look afraid. He had grown up in the shittiest part of town. He had grown up knowing danger--seeing dangerous men. He had learned young how to keep his head down, to steer clear of the worst of things. But now...he had messed up. It really was always a matter a time. A bloke could not live in places like this his entire life and never end up in a really sticky situation. But fuck, he really wished this had happened on his home turf. Devin would have been able to run then--he would have been able to fight. But here? There was no use. He couldn’t run. Fighting would only make things worse.

He had to just accept whatever happened.

He was drawing in a shaky inhale off his spliff when the Death Eater’s magic caught him. It was both unsettling and unsteadying to be moved in such a way. He lost any sense of balance as his body flew through the air until he landed with a thud at the older man’s feet. Somehow he had hung onto the spliff, his grip tightening around the end as if holding it could give him some sense of control over the situation. It was foolish. He was foolish.

And all this over a bloody girl.

Nah. All this over his bloody pride.

He opened his mouth to try to say something--to find any words that might make this not be so bad. But his voice failed him. None of the books he had read ever prepared him for anything like this. Nothing at all. Devin tried his best to keep from looking as terrified as he felt. But he was shaking slightly as the other wizard jerked his spliff away. It was a pathetic sight, him there on his knees in front of this old man. Had the Death Eater been a muggle, or another mudblood, this would never happen. Devin would have beat the idiot into the ground--non-magical style. But the Death Eater wasn’t some muggle--he was Rabastan freaking Lestrange.

Devin had no idea what was coming. He had stopped breathing. He was just frozen there--and not even by magic. He was just frozen by fear, by anticipation. Then, the Death Eater turned his spliff against him. Devin did not jerk away as the smell of burnt flesh began to fill the air. Pain radiated through him, but it wasn’t so bad. This wasn’t the first time he had been burnt this way---first time with his own spliff...but not the first time. He set his jaw and took it. Rabastan had grabbed hold of Devin’s head, but the force was not necessary. Devin did not try to squirm away or pull back. He didn’t even flinch.

When the embers on the end of the spliff were finally extinguished, Devin was pushed back away from the other man. His equilibrium was still off from being summoned the twenty odd feet from the building. Devin fell over, catching himself on his hands. He didn’t look up, but kept his head down, waiting to see what would come now.

Content Warning: Torture!


Bellatrix was still there, hovering at the edge of his vision. She was whispering little things, but her words were hard to make out. Rabastan could not focus on her and maintain his connection with reality. Not really. To properly hear her, he would have to give her his focus. To do that meant letting the catonia take over his body--and that would give the mudblood a chance to run away. Rabastan wasn’t going to let the toy get off that easy---especially when losing the kid would infuriate the witch more than not being heeded perfectly.

Rabastan knew his former compatriot well enough anyway. He knew what she would want to see. The magic Bellatrix had always most loved was not his person favorite of the Unforgivables, but it was pleasurable all the same. The red magic flew from his fingertips as he whispered out the incantation. ”Crucio,” rolled of his tongue in a husky, seductive hiss. His casting was something of a profession of his obsession for the late Black sister.

The casting of the Torture Curse brought with a sweet rush of adrenaline. Casting such a spell took great power and great evil. He possessed both. The tremor of magical mastery spread through his body and Rabastan laughed aloud. Glee was an understatement of what the Lestrange felt in this moment. There was truly nothing like casting an Unforgivable. It was an incomparable rush. He could see Bellatrix--her eyes wide with elation nearing euphoria at the sight unfolding before her. It was nearly as if she was really there. That connection to her was what drew him to indulge like this.

Rabastan held the spell for longer than he should have. Too much too soon could cause the kid to be lost to madness and the fun would be done. But the Lestrange liked to toe that line. He relished the euphoria of casting the curse--indulging in it until he thought the kid might pass out. The red magic flowing from him faded away as he let the curse come to an end. The reprieve was brief and he was casting the Unforgivable again.

Content warning: Torture


Devin heard the infamous incantation--the one he had most feared since Death Eaters had taken over the magical world--but his brain did not even have time to process what had been said before the curse him. Nothing could have prepared him for that. Devin had gotten his ass kicked a few times. Not every fight he got in had been a win, despite how he might like to brag...but even the worst loss in a fight was nothing like the pain that overtook his entire person the moment Rabastan’s magic hit him.

Dev had managed to stay quiet when Rabastan had burned him, but now--now he was screaming. It was impossible not to. The physical pain was just the beginning. Pinpricks of agony shocked every nerve ending until the sensations overloaded his brain. Tears sprung to his eyes and streaked down his cheeks. The pride in him would have been absolutely mortified at the sight, but no one could have any pride in this moment, under this curse. It was impossible. His mind was beginning to get twisted up now. Horrible images were taking shape there. He was losing touch with reality as the most horrific scenes unfolded in his mind. The mental torture element of the curse was amplified by Rabastan’s studying of psychology. The Lestrange knew just how to target his prey’s weaknesses and exploit them.

Devin shuddered and shook, clawing at the ground as his body spasmed under the effects of Rabastan’s magic. He gagged and gasped for breath. Dust from the ground choked him and filled his eyes. The dirt clung to the tear streaks down his face. His screams echoed in his own ears until he didn’t even realize they were his own anymore. Writhing in pain, Devin tried to cry out for mercy, but was utterly incapable of forming intelligible words.

The curse stopped, but the pain lingered. Devin curled his body over itself, like an infant in the womb. He was utterly pathetic and pitiful. He didn’t even think of how he might have looked to anyone else. He didn’t imagine there was any to see him--or give a shit if they did. The Torture Curse had amped up every feeling of loneliness and solitude that plagued him. There was no one in the world that cared if he lived or died---and he quite wished for death now. It would be so much easier than whatever was to come.

Then it was happening again. The Torture Curse caught hold of him and he shuddered. His screams were already losing volume--coming out in sharper screeches of pain now, his voice breaking and cracking as his throat contracted. He just wanted this to end. Devin would have given anything for the pain to stop--for this devil of a man to disappear.

CACOPHONY OF SCREAMS

OUTFIT

Sasha didn’t like… whatever it was that had happened tonight. It was irritating, and confusing, and a dozen more adjectives that she didn’t even feel like contemplating. She didn’t want to think about how she was feeling, or what any of this meant. She didn’t want it to mean anything at all. Devin Wright had meant nothing to her at school. Less than nothing. He wasn’t even someone that she even thought about. Sure, they were in the same house, but he was in the year below her. If they were in classes together, then perhaps she would have had to talk to him--but she hadn’t. He had flirted, and she was always a bitch back to him. She was Sasha Augustine. Despite what the purebloods, some of them anyhow, had to say about Muggleborns, she knew that she was an Augustine, and that meant something. It meant that Devin Wright was not a person that she was ever going to give the time of day to. She would have graduated Hogwarts without saying one nice word to him. She would have graduated, and she likely never would have saw him again. Somehow she thought that their paths wouldn’t really pass once they were out of the castle.

But then all of this had happened. They had ended up here. What they had been before didn’t matter to the Death Eaters in charge of the Ministry. Who they were before was irrelevant. They had been stuck here, all the same. Sasha wouldn’t have gotten through it at all if it hadn’t been for Mari. Her best friend being a Muggleborn had helped. It had made it easier, knowing that she wasn’t alone. Marisol was probably the only person that was really her friend. She was the only person that really knew her at all. Everyone else at school she had either just been using, or she had not been all that nice to them--or she’d ignored them. It was really one of the three options, so having Mari around had helped. It sucked that she was there, she knew that; she wished that she wasn’t being subjected to this too. But a part of her had been glad that she wasn’t in it alone, and Mari wasn’t in some awful job either. She just had to deal with people’s trash, which was gross, but she didn’t have to worry about her friend getting hurt during the day. Apart from being disgusting, it wasn’t a bad job.

They weren’t in the same apartment, though, and that meant they could only be with each other so much. Apart from that, she had mostly been on her own. That was fine. She had told herself that she could figure this out, because it was the only option that she had. She had to get through this, and it would end eventually. Sasha had to hope that it would end eventually. And she had done… fine, she supposed, until one night she had been sure that she was going to freeze before the sun came up. That was what Devin had come over to her. That was when all of this had started. She should have told him off that night, but she hadn’t. And then one night had turned into months, and she had told herself that it hadn’t meant anything. She had been quite sure that it hadn’t. She still barely tolerated him during the day, and either ignored him or was awful to him--she was a bitch, she knew that. It was just how she always had been. But then they had gotten the tension out of the way and had shagged, and that had been a mistake.

She was not that girl that got clingy after sleeping with someone. It wasn’t as if she’d been with all that many people in her life, but she wasn’t going to be that cliché. She wasn’t going to be that girl that got overly attached--she had refused. But it had gotten complicated. It had messed with her head a little bit, and she found herself doing things just to get a reaction out of him. Bringing up Jesse had been just that. He wasn’t her type. She had no interest in actually going after him, but seeing if Devin would get jealous had been too good to pass up. It had resulted in… a conversation that was way too real for her, and she’d had to lie to him and herself--and then walk away, to get out of it. She knew that she couldn’t get anywhere near him tonight. She hadn’t gone over to her blankets, and had holed up in another corner… very ready to sleep on the ground, regardless of how uncomfortable it was. But sleep hadn’t come. Instead, she had just been laying there, and that was when she had heard the door open.

Sasha was prepared to ignore it. Why did it matter to her who was sneaking out past curfew? But after only a few seconds she had a sinking suspicion of just who it was, and she found herself sitting up. The room was dark, but she had been laying there long enough that her eyes were mostly adjusted to it already. Where they normally slept was still empty, but she didn’t think he’d gone there. Her gaze had moved to where she had last seen him, and he wasn’t there either. She was standing up before she even thought about what she was doing. Fight or not, breaking curfew was idiotic. Really, what was he even thinking? Maybe he was just smoking in the hallway or something, and if that was the case she could give him a piece of her mind for choosing to be an absolute moron while she was trying to sleep. Once she’d slipped her shoes on, she headed for the door. Sasha hoped that she’d open it and see him standing there, but she didn’t. She’d headed down the stairs hoping the same, but there was still no sign of him. It was when she’d been nearing the bottom of the steps that she’d heard the screams--and froze.

It was an indescribable sound. She didn’t think that she’d ever heard a scream like that in her life--not really. And she didn’t know what Devin sounded like when he was in pain, but it had to be him. For a moment, self-preservation seemed like a solid option--she was still inside. She wasn’t in trouble. She could turn around right now and make it back up to her apartment. What did it matter to her what was happening outside? It didn’t matter to her. He did not matter to her. She was responsible for her own life, not his. He was the one that had gone outside. But those thoughts were passing, because she needed him. She needed him to be okay. He couldn’t die. So before she could think anymore about it, she was pushing open the door. “Stop!” Her voice came out shakier than she’d hoped for, but loud enough to be heard over the quieting screams. She came to a stop a fair bit away from them, not daring to get any closer just yet. “Please. Please don’t hurt him.” She could hear her heart pounding in her chest, and she didn’t think there was a time in her life that she’d been more terrified--but still, she didn’t move.

Content Warning: DE Badness happening to the BBY


He did not know how long it went on. It could have been an hour. It could have been a minute. When Rabastan had you under his spell, though, this spell in particular, you could not hold onto any reference of time. This experience really hammered home the relativity of time for Devin. Second stretched out into millenia as Devin writhed there on the ground. His mind was attacking itself---cruel horrible lies were feeding terrible unknown insecurities. Every bad feeling that Devin had ever repressed was washing over him now. All those memories he had boxed away, living life as though they had never happened--those nightmares were washing over him now. It was a flood of horror, amplified by the most excruciating pain he had ever known. He would have believed that his skin was being peeled away or that he had been set on fire. His entire person was so overwhelmed by the intensity of Rabastan's magic.

Some part of him that still had awareness of the rest of the world--the tiny sliver that it was--wished that he could be quiet. He was still Devin Wright. He still had that stupid pride that had driven him out of the flat. He didn't want anyone's pity. He didn't want any of the others living in his building to hear him crying out like this. He didn't want anyone to know what a fool he was.

What could he do though? Nothing. There was no hope. He was more certain every moment that this pain would never end. He had never longed for death, but he would have begged for it now—that would have required him having the ability to talk, which he lacked at this moment. His mind could have never compelled his tongue to speak.

It had to be an imagining of his mind, because Devin would have sworn he heard someone cry out for the Death Eater to stop. No, not someone--Sasha. But it couldn't be. She would never come out here for him. She didn't give a shit about him. She made that clear over and over again, which was fine--because he didn't care about her either. He had to be imagining it. This had to just be more of the fucked shit that the Torture Curse put you through. It couldn't really be her.

But then, the magical sensations faded--and Devin was left there, still shuddering and shaking from the lingering effects of the curse. It didn't just stop or fade--his mind was still mucked up...It was still feeding him horrible images, the most terrible of things, every repressed memory that had been freed refused to go back into its box. He was overrun by it all. Plus, his body ached terribly. Every muscle felt as if it had been overexerted beyond your wildest imagination--nerve endings still stung and sent shocks of alarm to his brain. 

Still, through all that he heard her--he heard Sasha beg for Rabastan not to hurt him. He tried to roll his body towards her--tear streak face, covered with dust, dirt and the mud his tears had made of both, he could barely make her out. "No-" he croaked, making the most feeble of attempts at shaking his head. He put all he had into the action, but he still failed miserably. He barely managed to try to lift a hand and warn her away. Why was she doing this? Why had she come out here?! He wanted so badly to scream at her to run, to tell her off, to do anything to get her to leave...but he couldn't. He tried to push himself upright, to get to this feet, to put himself between Rabastan and Sasha. It was another utter failure. Devin crumpled onto the ground.

"Please," he whimpered out in the hoarsest of voices. The sound was barely audible, his vocal cords had been so stripped by the screaming. He didn't even know what he was begging for. For her to go? For Rabastan to leave her be? For her punishment to be directed to him? Any and all of those were true. Devin had not managed to stand up, but he had shifted closer to the Death Eater. As Rab turned his hand to Sasha, Devin had lunged at him. Dev had not actually done any damage to the Lestrange. He fell at the man's feet, grabbing at his robes, anything to draw his attention back away from Sasha.

That had been as dumb as coming out here in the first place.  He had not even seen Rabastan draw back his leg, the action had been fully disguised by the man's long robes---but Merlin, did Devin feel it, when the swift kick crashed into him. Rabastan had caught him across the shoulder and even gotten his head quite hard. His lip was busted and blood began to flow freely from his nose. The impact of the blow was dizzying. Devin crumpled back to the ground. He felt so powerless--tears streaked down his face anew. He could not stop them.