Title: Unknown Desires

Pairing: Remus x Sirius [Past] / Lucius x Sirius [Potential]

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic torture, mentions of character death, and divergence of canon.


o-O-o


Sirius stared out from the inky depths of his cell. He swore that he could feel the Dementors prowling about outside, daringly coming closer after every moment he did not react. He did not understand why they hesitated; before, they had no qualms about inflicting him with their insufferable presence. He remembered the freezing air and the all-encompassing feeling of misery that assaulted him whenever they neared. It was still there even now, skating along the outskirts of his awareness and buzzing incessantly closer whenever one of those wretched beings grew bolder.

Yet, he did not fear the future. He had spent far too long in this dreary cell. His bindings had become his strength and his mania had become his lover. He stroked it with amorous caresses, each one gentler than the last, and devoutly fueled its passion whenever he had the energy.

Days passed. Scraps were occasionally brought to him, a haphazard effort to keep him alive, and the Dementors became bolder. Sometimes, they approached his cell and entered the dark abyss. They would peer into his empty eyes and consider his soul. Some would teasingly hover closer and taunt him with a kiss that never came. In those moments, Sirius never reacted. He let the Dementors come closer and closer and sighed in the face of unspoken nightmares. Sometimes, when Sirius felt particularly ballsy, he would close his eyes and allow the Dementors to do whatever they pleased. Suffice to say, he could tell that their ire was growing. Enraged shrieks pierced his ears, and bony fingers wreathed with shadows would force his jaw upwards. Sometimes, in the dead of night, Sirius swore he heard dark, crooning voices whisper, "He's not done with you, Black!"

Nevertheless, Sirius sighed. Days continued to pass. Sirius idly spent his time caressing his mania and coercing it to grow even stronger. He wasn't surprised when the prison shook with tremors and lightning crackled louder than ever. He didn't blink when a figure emerged from the dim light outside his cell; a nasty smirk marring an otherwise enchanting face.

"Sirius," the Devil crooned. "Have you waited long?"

Sirius said nothing.

"Silence, eh? What happened to that fiery spirit of yours? Did these guys-" his tormentor pointed towards the Dementors, "-break you?"

Sirius remained silent.

The man stalked towards him. The silence was nearly piercing, and Sirius briefly wondered where the constant screams hovering in the background had gone. The man kneeled on one knee and roughly grasped Sirius's jaw. "Well, that's quite alright. I'll have fun wrenching screams from this pretty mouth of yours." He leaned forward and paused; their faces hovered mere inches from each other.

A slow smile spread over Sirius's lips.

"Wha-"

He spat right on the Devil's nose.

"Bugger off," Sirius rasped darkly. Silver eyes shone with malice and a deceptively gentle hand tilted Sirius's face back and forth. The man considered him like one would a child; a disappointed huff escaping full lips. It was the only warning Sirius got before a strong arm lifted and punched him square in the face, effectively knocking him out.

The dreadful laugh of Lucius Malfoy followed him into unconsciousness.


o-O-o


Sirius woke up bound to stone flooring by chains. A manacle cruelly encircled his neck, reminiscent of a collar, and twin sets of shackles wrapped around his wrists and ankles. Rather than trying the give of his bindings, Sirius relaxed against the stone wall he was propped against and glanced at the darkest corner of the dungeon.

"What's the point of hiding if you know I can smell you?" He pronounced his words slowly, uncaring that they came out as barely a whisper. A cruel laugh echoed throughout the room, and Sirius watched apathetically as Malfoy walked from the shadows with a small smile gracing his lips.

"That mutt really did a number on you, Black," Malfoy taunted. "I wonder how your mother would have reacted to knowing how her disgrace of a son prefers being shagged by a wolf."

"And I wonder how your mother would have reacted to knowing how her supposedly perfect son is a raging queer who gets off by being a sadistic bastard," Sirius snapped back. Malfoy smiled at him thinly and retrieved his wand from the holster under his sleeve. He idly twisted the wood beneath his fingers.

"Perhaps, I enjoy torturing others," he admitted in a low voice. He ducked his head and his hair shielded his expression from view. Sirius shifted at precisely the right moment; a bright red light raced towards him, and Malfoy lifted his head to grin spitefully at him. "But why should I deny myself when there are men like you in the world, dying to be tortured, but oblivious to it yourself? Haven't you noticed, Black? The way your eyes sparkle whenever we play this little game? I'd wager that you feel some twisted form of excitement whenever you see me because you know I'll beat you bloody."

"If you honestly believe that, Malfoy, you're bloody insane," Sirius said, scoffing. "You make it sound as if you have some grand, noble reason. Like you're torturing for my own benefit, but you're not. Admit it, you just like seeing a pretty, young thing writhing in pain at your feet."

"Quite a narcissist," Malfoy commented, laughing. "I don't know if you've realized, but you're hardly young anymore. Twelve years in Azkaban have aged you up nicely; right now, you're nothing more than a shell of the man you used to be. But don't you see? That's precisely what makes you perfect, Black. I admit I torture you for purely selfish reasons, but don't pretend that you don't secretly adore it. You're broken on the inside; your friend's betrayal and the loss of your lover destroyed whatever guise of sanity you had. But this?" Malfoy leaned down and kissed Sirius, chuckling when Sirius harshly bit into his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. "This is right. You and I are both indulgent creatures and you are no damsel. If you truly wanted to escape, you would have already."

Sirius said nothing. Malfoy laughed.

"Ah, you never were one to admit the truth," he remarked. "But I admit that's what I find so endearing about you. Your body says everything you refuse to. Now, shall we begin?"

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but it was too late. Malfoy waved his wand and the manacle encircling Sirius's throat tightened to a maddening degree, choking him. The Black could feel tears gathering in his eyes, but he made no move to reach for the offending device. Sirius didn't even allow himself to a release a small whimper when the cruel blond screeched, "Crucio!" However, when Malfoy conjured needles and lit them with incendio, Sirius felt himself release a small sound. It was a pitiful cross between a whine and a shriek. Malfoy paused to glance at him.

"Don't worry, precious," he consoled. "This is going to hurt, but you'll love it."

And Malfoy wasn't lying. When the first needle pierced the middle of his forehead and was forced through bone until it grazed the softest parts of his brain, Sirius screamed. By the time Malfoy finally placed the last needle along his hairline, Sirius was a sobbing and whimpering mess. He kept calling out for Remus; begging his dead lover to return and save him. His dignity was gone to the wind, and he loathed the indulgent smile gracing Malfoy's features. The bastard was enjoying this and the worst part was: some sick part of Sirius was too.

Sirius found himself staring at Malfoy in awe as the man expertly doled out more pain. There was something calming about the way he did it; the blond whispered words of encouragement ("You're taking it so well, love. Look at how you scream so prettily for me. Come on, love, louder) and caressed Sirius's cheek so lovingly whenever he finished placing one of the scorching needles. It was such a stark contrast to the pain and misery, and Sirius found himself struggling to continue fanning his mania. He tried to remember those days spent in that dingy cell, surrounded by those wretched Dementors. He tried to remember the determination, anger, and disgust he felt toward the man he now alternated between cursing and begging for.

He tried.

He sighed so damn hard.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. Even though Sirius hated to admit it, Malfoy had been right. Sirius was no damsel in distress. He had been trained to escape bindings when he first became an Auror. He could easily break them and reach forward while Malfoy was concentrated on placing the needles to punch him straight in the face. If he was lucky, it might even be enough to knock him out. But he didn't want to. He had never felt so alive. In that cell, he had only known misery and regret. But right now, he smelled opportunity. He could feel indignation, rage, a desire for vengeance, and some fucked up sense of happiness.

Here, at the mercy of Malfoy, he wasn't Sirius-the-blood-traitor.

Here, at the mercy of Malfoy, he wasn't Sirius-the-man-who-got-his-lover-killed.

Here, at the mercy of Malfoy, he wasn't Sirius-the-fuck-up.

No, here, at the mercy of Malfoy, he was the victim. For once, he wasn't hurting others. And damn… If it didn't feel good.


o-O-o


Written For:

- Demonology Assignment 1 - Task 6: Gluttony - Write about self-indulgence.

- Yearly Herbology - Submission - Word Count: 1567

- January Writing Month - Word Count: 1567