Warning: This chapter contains a brief torture scene.

CHAPTER 5

BLACK, YOU IMBECILE

Black called again, this time louder, "Accio container!"

At the centre of the room, a small, metal box levitated off the ground and flew swiftly to the large bookshelf by the fireplace, where Black reached out and grabbed it.

Not a moment later, Bellatrix swung her wand, and an unseen force yanked Black out from behind the shelf, container in hand and all, and thrust him on the ground.

He scrambled back to his feet, clutching the metal box as if it held as much value as his life. It probably did. Locked inside was the Floo powder to escape through the fireplace, Severus had no doubt. No bloody doubt. The whirlwind had snatched it from Black, leaving him trapped.

Black lunged for the bookshelf and tossed the container to safety behind it. "Protego!" he managed, breathless, before a blasting hex crashed into his shield, and a moment later he stumbled to cover behind the toppled table — his improvised barricade.

Severus trained his wand on Black. His blood throbbed madly in his temples. His magic coursed unforgiving into his wand.

He had risked everything. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. To allow Black to escape.

And Black, in his glorious arrogance, had tossed all efforts aside, everything he had risked — he had NO idea what had risked! what he was still risking! — as if it were nothing.

For what? For petty scraps of wartime glory. For becoming the man to take down Bellatrix Lestrange, the Dark Lord's most feared lieutenant.

Whatever happened to Black from here on was no longer of Severus' concern. And whatever it was, he hoped it would be painful. And terrible.

He bloody deserved it.

"Incendio!" Severus shouted, and the air rippled with heat.

Not fire, but molten rock and lava rolled to an orb before his wand. Hotter than boiling tar, savage as hell. It thrust forward, aimed too high. Willingly too high. And crashed into the wall inches above Black's head.

Black, frozen in shock and bewilderment for a moment, jolted out of trance just in time to evade a curse shot by Yaxley.

Another curse from Yaxley grazed the air, catching Black off balance. It slammed Black in the shoulder and brought him to his knees with an aching groan.

A second attack hit, and Black was on all fours, panting like a dog through clenched teeth. A third attack missed him.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix yelled, and Black let out a painful growl. His arms trembled under the strain of the Torture Curse, and he slumped forward on his forearms, head bowed, clutched compulsively between his hands. He broke into a ragged scream.

A wicked smile spread across Bellatrix's face, and with the gash on her cheek and the blood trailing all the way down her neck, she looked more feral than ever. She scowled enraged, and Black's screams heightened before she broke off the Torture Curse.

"Don't you dare," she said, eyeing Yaxley who was making his way to reach Black. "Not after what he did — don't you dare interrupt."

Yaxley stopped in his tracks, turning his head from Bellatrix to Black, back to Bellatrix; eventually, he retreated with cautious steps.

Bellatrix laughed abruptly, then cast the Torture Curse once more, and Black's screams chilled Severus to the bone.

Unpleasant as it was, Black should get used to it. It was merely his warm-up. Soon enough, he would be brought before the Dark Lord, and from there on — who knew?

And Severus? He'd better get used to it, too — to the sight and the sound — quite a show it would be.

He wondered whether Black would be kept alive long enough to end up crying for his mother — he probably would — and whether Severus would get to see him then. Whether he would find it amusing?

Bellatrix lowered her wand, and it was only with some delay that the screams died out. She was speaking to Black; Severus could make out the delight in the sound of her voice. He couldn't discern her words entirely, though; they were trailing off in the haze of his own frozen thoughts.

He regarded Black on his knees on the ground, panting in pain, as he pushed with his palms against the floor to straighten back up. His breaths were hitched, his arms were shaking, he still had his wand in his hand.

He'd been stupid, and this suited him well. Did it not?

Did — it — not?

"Bellatrix," Yaxley said from the doorway. "Stun him. Before he comes up with other surprises."

"What's the matter?" she asked with a dry smile. "Too eager to get your turn? And I thought you didn't fancy such kind of amusement."

Bellatrix laughed, shrill and too loud.

"You've seen what tricks he has up his sleeve," Yaxley said, his wand pointed at Black. He was a coward, but he wasn't stupid. He had good reasons for keeping his wand trained. "Stun him. I've no doubt the Dark Lord will allow you to indulge later."

"Stay out," she replied. "The next time around, I will not repeat my request as cordially."

Yaxley didn't say anything else; he didn't lower his wand either.

"Dear cousin, have you enjoyed your respite?" Bellatrix's tone was mockingly sweet. "I've discovered it always hurts a little more if you let them rest a little longer. That being said... I hope you enjoyed your rest."

Black probably had, a little. Still on all fours, he was no longer shaking, his arms were steady under the weight of his body, and Severus could tell, despite the distance, that his breathing had evened out.

From the ground, Black blinked up at his tormentors. His face was contorted in pain and rage and hatred — no trace of fear.

Not a glimpse of cowardice.

Damn him.

Severus had always thought seeing Black on his knees would feel gratifying. Turned out—

Bellatrix raised her wand to cast the curse once more, and Black, kneeling on the floor, parried barely in time. Yaxley was quick, but Severus was quicker, and his wandless magic made Yaxley's arm jerk awkwardly, sending his hex flying wild. Black scrambled to cover, somehow, and retaliated.

Yaxley attacked, sending curse after curse exploding against the toppled table. But the improvised barricade remained intact, and Black was back on his feet some moments later, firing a hex before blocking another one.

With Goyle out of the way, Yaxley was trying out his wand freely on Black. Of course, Yaxley, all the while, was standing comfortably in the doorway. Never leaving the safety of a quick exit, was he?

"My wand's broken," Goyle said to no one in particular. Surprisingly, he was still conscious, slumped on the floor in the centre of the room with a broken stick in his hand.

In the chaos of everything, Severus moved to stand close to Goyle, though somewhat further away from Black than Goyle was — Severus' sense of self-preservation was still working fine. He cared nothing for the unarmed brute. He did like his position on the battlefield, though. Quite a bit.

Severus missed. So did Yaxley, his view of the target blocked — he wouldn't dare point his wand at Severus' back. Bellatrix boiled with rage. She cast a stunning spell, a chopping hex, a torture curse. She was tired, and by now, her aim, too, was all over the place.

She managed one well-aimed curse, but Black parried. His translucent shield rippled violently, its magic unyielding; he retaliated. Goyle, through the flurry of attacks, had crawled away.

Black's voice boomed, and after that, everything happened too fast.

A beam of light shot through the air towards Severus, sharp as an arrow. Severus was quick but, this time, not quick enough.

Black's spell flashed through the half-formed magic of his shield like a bayonet thrust into hay, and sooner than Severus could credit, pain pierced his side below the ribs — hot and sharp and blinding. The breath stuck in his chest; the world around him muted.

It felt surreal how a single moment stretched almost to standstill, all motion slowing to a sluggish dawdle, no sound—no thoughts—no haste around him.

The strength sapped from his legs.

Black, you imbecile.

And he sank to his knees.

He saw Black prepare to attack again. On instinct, Severus raised his wand only to realise, bedazzled, that the wand must have been in his other hand.

There was a glint of triumph in Black's eyes as he worded the final attack on his kneeling target. This wasn't how Severus had expected to go down, on his knees, before Black.

It was the epitome of irony. A wry joke.

The farce, though, was broken abruptly — all triumph vanished from Black's face, and he leapt to the side before a purple hex flew over his shoulder and smashed a hole into the wall.

It took a while for Severus to realise, with a strange sense of confusion, that his wand wasn't in either one of his hands. He hadn't noticed dropping it.

He couldn't fathom why he was kneeling either; his legs were supposed to be fine. He'd been hit in the ribs, not the knees. Had cracked a rib, maybe. Definitely cracked a rib. It was no reason for acting pathetic, kneeling on the ground like this. He should get a grip on himself.

A blast of energy hurtled past Severus from behind. It grazed Black's shoulder, and he staggered.

Severus struggled to get back on his feet, but the movement lanced him with a bolt of pain, and a bout of blackness burst before his eyes. The room slid askew, balance evaded his grasp, and he stumbled sideways to his knees.

For a moment, he thought he was in his own bedroom. It was hard to make sense of things through the splatters of colour flashing before his eyes — was he seeing stars? He caught a glimpse of someone raising their shield only to have it shatter a moment later — Black. That was Black. This wasn't in his bedroom.

Severus needed his wand.

Black fended off another attack, barely. Yaxley's curse probably, or Bellatrix's… The thread of the battle was slipping out of Severus' grip. Or had it slipped already?

There was another jet of light, a crash, and the sturdy table serving Black as a barricade blew to splinters.

Nothing stood in Black's end of the room anymore. At least Severus' imagined bursts of light had ceased flashing, and he could take in the impending finale: the hexes had smashed everything to ashes, save for Black and the tall bookshelf. Black would never reach it. He was close, but not close enough, and he was cornered. He fired another hex.

From behind Severus, a silver beam blazed through the room. It hit Black with a sickening sound of steel slicing through flesh, and a ragged howl was jerked from him. Black clutched his arm, lost his footing, nearly toppled.

Severus had to find his wand. He really needed to. His sluggish mind, though, refused to wrap around simple magic to summon it.

Face twisted in pain and gripping his injured wand arm, Black cast another spell, just as a burst of energy hurtled through the room, hot and blinding, and slammed Black into the wall with a thud.

Severus clenched on to his surroundings as they slipped and swayed. Through his torpid awareness, he could make out one thing: Black still had his wand. Everything else was sliding into disaster and into a distance he could hardly follow.

It was strange how everything was slowing down around Severus, the curses and the hits drifted lazier with each lapsing second, yet he found himself barely able to hold on to even that.

And still... where was his wand?

Half his mind was frantic to find it, but the other half was achingly befogged.

He saw Black on the ground holding off another attack, teeth grit in exhaustion and iron resolve, not a trace of cowardice on his face.

Would it have cost you that much to be a coward, just this once, and just a little? It could have saved both our lives.

Another bout of lightning sprang from Black's wand, crackling the air, and Bellatrix shrieked — she screamed. Black's attack had hit its mark.

"YOU BASTARD!" she cried.

Bellatrix's face scrunched in hatred, eyes ablaze in rage, and before she even worded the curse, Severus knew what it would be.

His blood ran cold.

He turned for the bookshelf by the fireplace. His mind was suddenly frantic — to the full — and for this one fraction of time, it was jarringly clear.

A wandless spell was all he had.

"Locomotor." He spoke without a wand, and the magic of his words snapped the boards in the tall bookshelf and pulled the towering structure sideways to collapse, just as Bellatrix's shrill voice pierced the tumult of everything else.

"AVADA KEDAVRA," she cried.

Green light flashed blinding, and the room went cold. The soulless void of the Killing Curse soared through the air to hit against the toppling bookshelf just as it crashed to the ground like a felled tree — in front of Sirius Black.

It exploded on impact, burst like fireworks. Wild green flames rose and squirmed and spread to devour every splinter of wood.

"Show yourself!" Bellatrix yelled.

In a frenzied attempt to destroy anything that hid behind the burning pile of wood, she fired curse after curse into the flames, stepping closer to it with every burst of energy that sprang from her wand.

To Severus' left, Yaxley advanced cautiously along the wall, wand held up, prepared to strike. He stopped before reaching the green fire, now rapidly extending, and brought down his wand swiftly, and the green flames died out.

"He's not here," Yaxley said flatly.