A/N - This is a Dark World Flashback. There may be triggering things contained within. The are no heinous gory descriptions, but it is not tame in the very least. You are forewarned.


Chapter 27

Breaking is Not a Choice


No matter what he had thought beforehand, when they were brought in and the surroundings and reality unfolded before his charcoal grey eyes, he was not certain the unknown was worse in this circumstance. There was no preparation for this.

He understood his father's short sentences earlier. He had been wrong about that. He thought he'd gotten it before. So wrong. Now it was clear. Crystal.

Nothing his father had said or ever could say in those moments, not even a half hour ago, could have made any difference right now. Anything more sophisticated in description or instruction, and he would have overtaxed himself before even arriving. He would have been acting like Scorpius.

The millisecond his exceptionally fast mind processed the pure spectacle he'd entered his eyes slammed shut against it, and the squeeze of his muscles tightening around his ribs made it nauseatingly hard to breathe. He held his breath instead of giving way to the desire to gasp them down, clenched his fists, and concentrated on what he could hear instead.

Or what he could hear that was not stress-inducing because at least one of his teammates was vomiting, and if he fell down that rabbit hole of allowing body to freak out, he was terrified he'd pass out.

Even what he could hear, just then, was the best worst stimulus provided by any of his senses right now, because if he tried to ground himself with anything else, he was going to be puking like his housemate(s), or dry heaving at least. The smell of everything was so bad you could taste it.

It took a few moments of him deciding to breathe and breathe slowly before he opened his eyes again, more prepared mentally to see what he knew he was going to see. He turned to the side first, to gauge his own behavior and reaction in comparison to the others. In case he needed to make some adjustment.

Scorpius was vomiting still. He shifted away from the splatter.

If there were words, he wasn't fully hearing them, but more sensing them like background noise.

The whole team was a trembling mess, even their burly seventh year chaser.

His own hands were shaky and frozen at his sides, still clenched. His whole body was almost just as frozen as his hands he was so still. He blinked hard. His vision felt a little off.

The Wall at Hogwarts would never prepare you for this. Half his teammates loved torturing people on the Wall. They were not in love with this, not eager for this. None of them could even look without gagging. It was different when it was someone you knew and liked.

Neither his father nor Mr. Malfoy seemed in any way surprised. Their reactions had definitely been anticipated. It had been played out on many other groups before he supposed.

Satisfied that he was far from the sorriest looking of their bunch, and that his own reaction was quite usual, he confronted the fear of seeing what was in front of him again. Small doses were better than putting it off until it was a massive dose and overwhelming with tens of pairs of eyes on him.

Make use of time and timing. His father was against being a passive recipient of the progression of a situation unless warranted. He could tell his father's lessons about that had not sunk in for everyone in their House equally, because the current pattern suggested avoid, avoid, avoid was the preferred mantra. His father did teach them all more than Potions.

He looked at the Clarksons first, rather than at Ben. They had already been worked over pretty well, and he had a good idea what his father, Mr. Malfoy, and others had been doing earlier. It was a horror menagerie and one full of unappealing fluids. How many times had they been healed by various methods to start again? That was far more blood than one bleeding out produced – or there had been others.

The confrontation of knowing his background part in how they were kept alive zoomed back to catch his breath in his throat. He swallowed it down. The avoid mantra worked better for those bits.

He refocused.

Torture was a typical progression. One chance where we torture you, then we torture your kid in front of you.

They were going to do that anyway. Whether you talked or not. Whether you had anything to even talk about or not. Sev knew. It didn't matter.

The Dark Lord took more pleasure in torturing people's minds, breaking them. It was not just about physical pain. There was no situation where Ben was not getting killed gruesomely in front of his parents. Sev simply had not imagined precisely how gruesome.

Finally done breathing himself through taking in the damage to the parents, who had taken him and Scorpius on a beach holiday, he allowed himself to look at Ben. A reflection of his worst fears stared back at him, live and in real time, not in that wispy ephemeral way. Like a stone wall to the face. And he knew what a stone wall to the face felt like from experience.

A blank canvas. Scorpius would have said that about someone new on the Wall. The repulsion of that was almost worse than the state of the parents. He forced himself to zip passed the realization this was not going to be over quickly.

Maybe it was a testament to how well he'd shut down that emotionally reactive part of his mind, but his first actual concrete thought was in hoping if he was going to die, that he could do it better that this. He was avoiding a different thought, and that was that it could be him right now; they could have been in opposite places.

Even without thinking it, his body was threatening to react to the fact that this was not how he wanted to die.

His mind had flipped it into the more situationally palatable thought of being stronger than dying so very pitifully.

Ben had choked himself on so much snot it was dangling from his chin like it was permanently attached. He must have vomited first because there were chunks all over the front of his clothes. His eyes traveled further down. His friend had definitely soiled himself in every possible way.

"Let's get started, shall we?" The sounds of that voice was unmistakable anywhere. Evil personified in an unperson.

The gruesome captivation of the scene was conveyed by the realization that the presence of the Dark Lord was not something his mind had even bothered processing yet. As strange at it was, he had been in the Dark Lord's presence enough before for it to be less novel than the tableau directly in front of him. He was certain the Dark Lord found it exceedingly picturesque.

Missing that presence was a mistake. And he noticed when his body felt he'd made a mistake. There was always a jolt when that happened. Too many horrors in one place to even focus on any single one but to the exclusion of all the others.

Sev swallowed. It smelled even more like vomit now after half of his teammates had done so.

He found sudden interest in counting…banners…he would count the banners and flags…and look in doses. He had to manage the time, because his small body was something of an inherent weakness in keeping stressors down far enough for long enough. Too many stressors and there wasn't enough blood to your brain to think coherently about anything. A full grown body could take more than he could.

The Dark Lord went down the line asking the ones he did not know for their name. Probably half their team had never been in a room with the Dark Lord, let alone a foot away. He blinked as he watched that unfold. Now he understood the earlier level of terror on a few of the upper class faces. They had just been dropped into something with many avenues of terrifying things intersecting together. His father, in that moment, and Mr. Malfoy probably also among said terrifying things.

Scorpius tried to hide the fact he'd wiped vomit on his sleeve, which was silly considering there was a whole bunch of vomit at his feet, and he could have used magic to get rid of both... He looked like wet albino rat in many ways.

"And you boys belong to Draco and Severus."

He was in no way surprised Scorpius couldn't manage a word. He was swallowing in a way that suggested he was still trying not to puke.

Please don't… He eyed Scorpius' bobbing Adam's apple as if it were a potential explosion waiting to happen.

"We do, my Lord," he hastily replied for them both.

That was probably the easiest thing they were going to need to manage to do that night, and it did not bode so well for Scorpius that he couldn't even manage that. He felt a surge of protectiveness for his friend. They did not have the excuse of this bit being a first. Some of his teammates may have never had the honour of being in the Dark Lord's presence, but he and Scorpius had before they'd even gone to Hogwarts.

The Dark Lord did not linger, thank Merlin, and addressed them as a group. "When Blood Traitors are discovered, it is not expected for them to have any roots in the great house of Salazar Slytherin. Yet, all of you have been living with one, playing with one, and had no idea…presumably…" The last word was icy coldness. The pacing before them was done insidiously slow. "This is unacceptable. It is each of you that are expected to keep our world free of treasonous infiltrators. To make certain that the other students at the school are up to our standards. Instead, you are all friends with one." The Dark Lord paused, it happened to be in front of he and Scorpius. "You are judged by your actions and associations. I know that Professor Snape holds the house to the highest standards…but yet…this. You allowed this to exist in your midst. If you think he is disappointed. If you are afraid of him. His anger is only a whisper of mine."

A worrisome statement for his father and by association himself. He was not daft enough to miss it. Not only that but it harkened back to that meeting before they'd gone to school in its way. They'd been given that responsibility as offspring of the Dark Lord's (un) "trusted" few original Death Eaters. Basically to inform on all the goings on of the student body. It was why Umbridge was always asking him thirty questions. He did not miss that insinuation either.

They might be 2nd years, but he and Scorpius had failed that duty. That was why they were here.

Fucking holidays…

He was sure that extravagant trip of merriment had not helped matters.

"And you…" The Dark Lord addressed Scorpius here. "Tell us all which department your father heads, hmm."

Scorpius looked up petrified. Sev was now certain his intuitions were right and used the toe of his shoe to kick his friend's shin. Scorpius moved his mouth, but nothing intelligible came out. The point was that Scorpius was the kid of the head of the DMLE…and he'd been fraternizing with a Blood Traitor too.

"Draco, I was not aware you son was mute. Don't they call him Scorpion King?" the Dark Lord laughed. Not an amused laugh either. "How disappointing."

That seemed to be the end of the preamble. Facing the middle of the group, the Dark Lord simply said, "Why don't you show me how Slytherin House deals with Blood Traitors." One skinny finger pointed to Ben Clarkson.

It became so silent you could hear blood dripping and gurgling breaths from a few meters away.

In fact, none of them moved.

Sev easily expected one of his older teammates to do something. To…go first? They were too busy. Doing what? Sniveling in the Dark Lord's face? What did they think was going to happen next? If nothing happened?

That would be worse. Much worse.

For him, it was not worth the risk. Hesitance was its own admission his father was always fond of saying.

He chanced a look at his father's face. The furrowed frown was immense and concentrated and boring holes into the older students. Mr. Malfoy had his arms crossed and…his wand in his hand. His father did too. That moment in time skid as he realized exactly why his father and Mr. Malfoy were there, standing with them.

If their little group needed convincing or prodding, they were going to get it and his father and Mr. Malfoy were going to provide it. Not a subtle prod. A monumental insult and failure prod. That was the absolute last thing Sev wanted to happen, for a multitude of reasons. The first reason that popped into his mind was that if a bunch of Slytherins stood there mute and motionless, precisely how would that make his father look as their Head of House? Second, his capabilities would go down dramatically if he caught a huge beating first.

He had already been bothered by the insinuation meant when the team and their Head of House had no clue of Clarkson being a Blood Traitor. The lack of movement was suffocating. It was making his heart speed up, and the only way to stop it was to remove the problem causing it. Waiting for someone older to do something was completely a faulty strategy.

Just as the Dark Lord said "No one?" while looking at the older ones, Sev took a breath and pulled out his wand from his sleeve which was incredibly audible in the silence. He might be the youngest or the smallest, although Scorpius was filling that role dramatically too, but he was not weak.

It was not to save his housemates from a thorough beating, although that factored in slightly, or to keep his father from having to violently force him (and all of them). One way or another they were doing this, and he'd rather not take a beating himself beforehand, much less be the cause of his father having to do it. He'd be worse at doing anything afterward. That was the decision. Why prolong the inevitable and add a bunch of physical pain as tax?

"Well, well, well."

He could never have thought one single syllable word said thrice could be that potent with absolutely no magic involved.

Too late to overthink his decision now. If he bunked it, at least he'd be the small, brave one, and that had to count for something when his far older tosspot teammates just stood there.

As he got closer, there was no ignoring that Ben was a real, live person. There was no denying that this was his friend and that before very long his friend was going to be dead, after as much suffering as he could possibly be put through. The blood from Ben's parents made the floor sticky to his shoes. He breathed through his mouth to avoid the smell and just ignored the sound. It was purposefully macabre. More impact that way.

He stood face to face with someone he'd whacked bludgers and played chess with for years. Sev did not have a plan, really, just enough confidence in himself that he'd find a way to do it because he had to. He lived with the stakes daily, and this evening he was facing them in more ways than one.

Tears and snot melded into one disgusting mess on the blotchy face before him. Nothing had even happened to Ben yet, beyond perhaps watching what had happened to his parents. Maybe not even.

More tears poured out of those bloodshot eyes as Sev stood there, silently, wand drawn.

He had to find something to hang on to, anything to let him feel the necessary desire to do this. A thread would do. It didn't have to be huge. It was all purely mental. It was controlling where you let your mind go, where you let it feed.

"Sev, please…don't…" The snot danglies shook.

Being begged not to was the thread, and he closed his mind around it and pulled hard, focusing. He had to see things he could hate. That could get him there.

Ben was weak and selfish to ask that of him, to even say it.

None of them had a choice.

Every one of them was going to have to do this. Why make it harder.

There was nothing less worthy of Slytherin than begging.

He would never make it harder for his own friends. He would have said "do your best" or so he told himself. He would not die in his own piss, uselessly begging his friends, so they could get tortured, and he could still wind up dead.

No. He wasn't weak and selfish like that.

He pulled that thread, letting it ball next to the necessary sparks of hatred. When he felt it ignite and the memory of his empathy for Ben burn, he just thought about the fact that this could be the cause of danger to his family and their entire team howling in pain if he did not curse the crap out of the person in front of him.

You have to want it.

He did feel it enough just then.

He could shut down every fiber of himself that might think or feel otherwise that would pull him back.

Even Carrow would have been proud of his Cruciatus in that moment because he simply let it rip, fueled by every negativity he could yank at in the moment about Ben Clarkson. This might be the only time angry teenaged magic would ever be acceptable to his father.

One of them had to do it. No one else had. What other option was there?

When he pulled his wand back and the screaming stopped (had he even heard it consciously while it was happening?) the silence was greater than when he began. He stood there for a moment, breathing hard. He was not sure if he had breathed at all that entire time. He put his wand back in his sleeve and turned away.

Everyone but his father was staring at him, even Mr. Malfoy. He realized there were more people watching than he had previously processed in that large space. People beyond his teammates' parents. He'd apparently blocked a number of things out.

His father, on the other hand, grabbed the nearest seventh year and shoved him forward roughly, saying, "Cowardly shit. Are you going to be outdone by a second year?!" His father probably meant that for real too.

Although he doubted he was done for the evening, or morning, the hardest bit was over even if he now felt like he was having an out of body experience.

Now he knew. Now he could watch his fellow Slytherin do it too, with dispassionate disinterest. And if this carried on for very long, he could use whatever spells. He'd managed the one that required him to want it, so loyalty proven, and that was that. Now he just needed to tune out until he needed to do something else.

Scorpius looked at him with parted lips when he made it back to the group. They were cracked and dry. Probably from vomiting.

The renewed screaming loud enough to cover their voices, Scorpius said, "How…how did you…"

Scorpius was closer to Ben than he had thought.

"Think of something he's done to make you angry and let your mind go in that memory…Or imagine someone else." That was the only bit of advice he could give his best friend, and he had a feeling they'd get cuffed if either of their fathers saw them talking.

Scorpius looked forward and watched their former friend's face as the seventh year did his best, lip quivering in time to his legs.

"Clench your fists. Breathe through your nose," he hissed to the blond. Shit, he's going down.

The Scorpion King swayed. Sev looked around, panicked. What was he supposed to do?!

He did the only thing he could as Scorpius' platinum haired head came careening at his chest, he attempted to catch him before he smacked into the stone ground. He was strong from being a Beater, but the dead weight of Scorpius slamming into him took them both to the ground with one shocked, "Ooof." Scorpius landed partially on his own pile of puke, luckily bouncing his head off Sev's chest rather than the stone.

Although he'd put an arm out to avoid cracking his head open, his head did smack the ground with less force, resulting in a nice dribble of blood flopping off his eyebrow as he lifted himself onto an elbow and pulled his legs out from under Scorpius.

"Bloody Hell!" That was Mr. Malfoy. Things were not going so very well for him tonight.

The elder blond stalked over, put down his hand, and hauled him up first before leaning over and trying to wake his own son.

The Dark Lords tutting voice could be heard saying (during the break of screaming this side scene had caused), "Too young…"

Sev had a budding realization that he had probably also been expected to black out. Hence, the stares before.

Too young. Bloody Hell was right. He was technically younger than Scorpius!

Scorpius wasn't rousing any time soon. Mr. Malfoy was white with embarrassment. Sev didn't want anything bad to happen to either of them. The longer the attention was there, the higher the odds of that happening. The other proceedings had screeched to a halt.

"I can fetch something to rouse him, sir, and watch him until he comes to?" he offered to his godfather. Hell, it would get him out of there for a few minutes, and considering he had to help deliver their stocks of potions and the like, he knew where to find everything.

Draco looked at his father. His father looked at the Dark Lord. Sev watched the strange relay of permissions, still feeling a little tunnel-visiony himself. Scorpius at least gave him something to focus all of his attention on that was not the torture session.

"At least your progeny knows the meaning of loyalty and duty, Severus," was the reply and his permission to extricate himself even momentarily with some smidgen of autonomy. He had a feeling the sense of loyalty spoken of was not just his proving his loyalty by cursing the Blood Traitor, but his offer to help Mr. Malfoy. That would not have been said if the situation were dire for the blonds; thankfully the insult seemed minor. Too young. It was better to be too young than suspicious, and with that he took his sweet time finding a potion cocktail to give Scorpius while the screaming continued.


THANKS FOR READING! Please take the time to leave me a review! That's what makes this all worth it! How did I do with this one? Too much, too little, just right? How do you think his father feels about that performance? What do you think would happen in the aftermath?

Special Thanks to Duj, Misadventure girl, and Guest for their reviews!

Since I cannot reply directly to the anonymous ones, here is your review reply Lovely Guest! - Thank you so much, you really made my day in an epic way with such a long, thoughtful review. It rather hurt my stomach when writing it and this chapter too. It isn't the easiest thing to convey without actual gore, but I'm not a big fan of the gore slasher style like some people. I hope I did it justice! You are very right about the Gryffindors, although some will come around to better behavior. The Slytherins understand him much better. Also all these Gryffindors were always surrounded by adults who rarely took responsibility for letting them go on their idiot schemes when they were kids, so they've had that modeled for them too. I hope you keep enjoying this story, and I hope I adequately tweaked your anxieties with this chapter! Let me know!

Other notes - In case anyone is wondering about what he's doing when he's keeping his mind off what's going on...those are all grounding techniques, mindfulness techniques, and biofeedback techniques that pause or halt the progression of a Fight/Flight/Freeze response. Basically, they send messages to your brain that prevent the negative snowball effect of your cognitions, your physiology, and sympathetic nervous system. We teach them to people with Panic Disorder to help them gain mental control of their panic attacks. Not fool proof, but when you're 100 pounds soaking wet, your body cannot get pounded with acute traumatic stress before trying to return itself to normal (that's what passing out does). Telling Scorpius to clench his fists (or clenching muscles in general), for example, is something that can temporarily raise your blood pressure to prevent you from passing out. That's the end of my lecture as your psych professor today, free of charge LOL.