An: Uh, a Malfoy story, set early in the first war (Regulus is still alive). Has torture, but it's not graphic (I don't think) hence the T rating. If you think it should be higher, review and let me know. Also, the title is adapted from the quote 'it is better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven', which I believe is from Paradise Lost. Enjoy.
Better to serve in Hell…
His screams are terrible to hear. What's worse is that he's right in front of her, right there. All she wants to do is reach out, hold him close, wipe the blood from his face. He's bitten his lip. Torn it even. It was from trying not to scream, trying not to let those wounded animal cries be ripped out of his lungs. But the pain became too much. It's not the screams as such that are making her wince, it's the fact that they're his screams. Her strong, proud husband reduced to this. She wishes she could look away, even close her eyes, but she knows the Dark Lord will turn on her if she does. That this is a warning, this is showing all of them what happens when you displease their master. Her sister looks almost happy, revelling in someone else's pain. The Russian watches unflinchingly, as if this is merely a film, completely detached. She's shaking, digging her nails into her palms to try and still herself. She doesn't know how long this has lasted, doesn't know how long she has been watching her husband be tortured. He looks broken, like one of the exquisite dolls that Bellatrix threw down the stairs in a fit of anger. She doesn't question the Dark Lord's his vision. His projection for the future seems so … beautiful. But his methods. Oh she questions those. Secretly, inwardly. She didn't have to join. Could have stayed ignorant, naive, innocent. But no. Her sister had joined, her cousin, her husband. She refused to be left behind. And how she wished now that she had. His cries subsided for a moment, falling to soft whimpers.
"Will anybody stand in for him?" Their master's voice was silky, and then there was a pause, where nobody moved. "Anybody?"
She tried to meet her husband's eyes, but he stayed focused on the floor. And she wanted to step forward. She wanted to help him, to take the pain for him. But she was too scared. Too afraid. And so she did not move or speak.
When his screams echoed around the hall once more, she closed her eyes, wishing she had the bravery to help him.