Chapter Thirty-Seven: Like Fire and Powder
"Lily, come at once! Our lord wishes to see you!"
She jerked straight up in bed, Bellatrix's voice shattering her sleep like gunshots. "What?" she said sharply. "What did you say?"
"Get up!" her sister snapped from the foot of her bed. Her dark eyes were blazing like comets in the paleness of her face. "Our lord demands your presence!"
It took Lily a moment to orient herself. It was late afternoon; after Remus had collapsed on them, she had exerted all her magical knowledge to try and ease some of his pain until the Healer could arrive. Exhausted, she had come up to her room afterwards and fallen into a dead sleep. Only to be woken because –
There was no time for fear. She had to believe Voldemort had not uncovered her deception, otherwise surely Bellatrix would not have come to fetch her like this, leading her to her slaughter. But what else could be so urgent? Following her sister, she tore down the stairs, to the room where she had first met the Dark Lord. The door this time was open. She stepped in.
The first impression which struck her was that of red and gold; unlike yesterday morning, the curtains were tied back from the windows, and the last rays of the dying sun bathed the room in shades of muted yellow and crimson. It took her a moment to blink away the dazzlement.
Her cousin was naked on the floor.
Lily's indrawn breath was hastily stifled, but not nearly soon enough. Voldemort, seated in an armchair by the fireplace, lifted his scarlet gaze to her, a slow smile curling his thin lips. Bellatrix was stood by his right side, her expression alight. Rodolphus was behind her, and Lucius and Narcissa yet further behind him, their blondness cast in shadow.
James stood on his left. Lily could not look at his face; though anyone else might have thought it inscrutable, she could read the awful fury in his eyes, the agony clawing for release from deep within him.
"Lily," the Dark Lord said softly. "Behold, your cousin."
She had no choice but to look down. Sirius lay on his stomach before Voldemort's armchair, the fine alabaster of his skin a mottled tangle of bruises. Several evenly placed stripes along his back openly wept blood onto the floor beneath him. A flash of whiteness in one of them suggested the dull gleam of bone. Though Lily did her best to unfocus her gaze, she could see the lacerations disfiguring the muscular curve of his buttocks. Barely an inch of skin had been spared.
"I behold, my lord," she said, her voice a thin reed. She did not dare clear her throat.
"Do you know what he did?" he said conversationally.
"No, my lord."
"Sirius Black," he said, "my most promising servant. Yet today, he took it upon himself to teach my pet wolf a lesson. And so, I taught him one instead."
Lily blinked. Oh, Sirius. The oddly noble fool. He had seen what Fenrir Greyback had done to the boy he considered a brother, and had immediately left to hurt him in turn. Now that she looked deeper, she could see that some of his injuries must have been inflicted by Greyback: bite marks and claw wounds scored his flesh.
"Injudicious of him, my lord," she dared to venture.
"Yes," he murmured. "He almost killed my wolf – a useful creature. For I have many Death Eaters, and even many Blacks, yet only one werewolf. You see he must be punished." His voice sharpened. "You will perform the Cruciatus Curse upon him, until and unless I tell you to stop."
Lily froze. She could not have heard him correctly.
"I'm sorry, my lord?" she breathed.
"The Cruciatus," he snapped. "Do it. Now. I was informed you successfully did so last night. Is that not so?"
Wildly, Lily looked at Bellatrix.
"It is so, my lord, of a certainty," Bellatrix said. "Lily, you recall how Sirius insulted you this morning. Now is your time to pay him back."
In desperation she even looked at James. Immediately she wished she had not: the look on his face was terrible to witness, a blend of impotent rage and pain. The amber of his eyes had darkened to burnished gold. She caught them, and he gave her a miniscule nod. Do it.
There was no way out.
"Very well, my lord. It will be as you desire," she said loudly. She had to ensure Voldemort's attention stayed on her – he couldn't look at James; his self-composure had cracked, and his emotions were plain to read. He was dangerously compromised. She had to hold the Dark Lord's focus until James could get himself back under control.
Moving slowly, as though through molasses, she drew her wand. With a great effort Sirius turned his head in her direction. His lip had split, dribbling blood down to his chin, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. The other speared through her like a chunk of grey ice.
She had never done this before. But she had to act as though she had, else it wouldn't be the Cruciatus, it would be the Killing Curse – and all three of them would face it. She closed her eyes and summoned every ounce of anger and bitterness she could, remembered every time she had wanted to hurt someone and held herself back, remembered that she was a daughter of the House of Black. Her dry lips moved.
"Crucio."
Pleasure rushed through her, hot and fierce, like a tidal wave. Distantly she could hear Sirius screaming, a sound she had never heard him make in her life, but it felt as though she were hearing a weather report for a town she did not live in. The only thing that mattered was the violent joy in being master of another living being. She was his saviour and his nightmare, the one who gave and the one who took away; his pain belonged to her, and she revelled in it. She was smiling. There was pain, nothing but pain - but his, not hers -
"That's enough," Voldemort said mildly.
His voice cut through like her steel. Lily dropped her wand, panting. She felt as though she had run for miles. For a moment the endorphins still hummed through her, and she almost laughed, giddy with the high of pure control. Then abruptly it left her, like she had been doused with cold water. She froze.
Gods above, what had she done?
She had used an Unforgivable Curse. She had used it on her own cousin. And she had enjoyed it.
James's face was empty once more. He had brought himself under control. She did not dare look at Sirius, who was taking in great gulps of air on the floor.
Bellatrix was beaming at her. "What an excellent casting!"
"Yes, it was certainly something," Voldemort agreed. He was looking at Lily thoughtfully, taking in the fine trembles she sought to suppress and the bloodlessness of her face.
"May I be excused?" she rasped. "I'm afraid that spell took quite a lot out of me…"
He waved a hand. She took that as permission and backed slowly out of the room. As soon as she was out of eyeshot, she whirled and ran, not knowing where she was going, only that she had to go as far away as she could, as quickly as possible. It was as though she were drowning: no matter how deeply she breathed in, not enough oxygen was making its way in.
When she came to herself she was deep in the gardens, somewhere she had not been before. She stared unseeingly at a leafless tree. Dear gods, how could she have done that to her own cousin? She, who had thought herself so much better than him?
At her core, it seemed, she was no different from those of her family who laughed as they tortured men to death. The White Sheep was not so white after all. If only she hadn't come to Malfoy Manor. If only she hadn't…
"Lily?"
She spun. James had found her. He looked as though he had aged several years.
"James," she said brokenly, and threw herself at him.
He staggered under her weight a little, surprised at first, before his arms slowly came around her. Cautiously, as though petting a skittish cat which might flee or scratch at any moment, he ran his hand down her back. She could feel the warmth of his palm through her robes.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"It was so easy," she whispered back. "I loved every moment of it, while it was happening. I thought I was better than that. How can it feel so good?"
She pressed herself closer to him, the boy who had made sure to spare her from having to hurt Dearborn last night, only for her fate to overcome her the next day. She had willingly come into the Dark Lord's lair. Why had she thought she alone, of all his companions, would be spared his edge?
And if merely inflicting pain on someone could feel so heavenly, then surely casting the Imperio would feel like being a god. The power, the control… one would not even to hurt them. One could command them to hurt themselves.
For perhaps the first time, she began to understand more about what had made James Potter into the boy he was, into the boy who had given her such pain that night in the Forest in the guise of pleasure.
She kissed him, their teeth clashing together, drawing blood in her viciousness. She had to force out the memories in her head, not just of two years ago but of what she had done now. For several moments he failed to respond, then with a low growl he stabbed his tongue into her mouth, kissing her back just as violently. She made a keening sound and wrapped her arms around his neck. Yes, it was working, she was forgetting – there was nothing but James, his scent and heat, burning away the shadows –
He pulled away. "No," he snarled. "Not like this."
Her eyes narrowed. "What?" He wanted her, she could feel it. She reached up to try and draw him closer again, but he broke free of her arms.
"Not like this," he repeated roughly. "When you come to me, it will be because you want me. Not to drown your sorrows or ease your guilt. Me."
With one last glance in her direction, hot and filled with some unknowable emotion, he walked off, leaving Lily staring behind him.
AN: Bet you didn't expect an update so soon! I've been wanting to write this chapter for a while now. Please do let me know your thoughts in a review! It will give me more motivation :)
This chapter is dedicated to Shruthi. It's so nice to hear from you! I hope grad school is going well 3
Life update
I'M GETTING A CAT! I've wanted one for my entire life and tomorrow one is coming! I'm so happy and excited, stay tuned for updates on Sophie!