Disclaimer – Not mine.

Chapter Eleven

It was not a large dose - little more than a few drops, really - but it burned a trail like acid against his throat. He gagged and, had his father's hand not clamped down over his mouth, would have spat the bitter liquid back out. As it was he was forced to swallow it down, the acrid flavour bringing tears to his eyes. Finally his father released his grip, leaving Sirius gasping for breath, his chest heaving. Biting back a strangled sob he let his eyes fall closed - unwilling to see the expression of cruel triumph that was sure to be on the older man's face.

The next few minutes were probably the worst, whilst he waited for the potion to take effect; waited to find out what exactly was going to happen to him. He sat, shaking helplessly, the harsh ropes digging into tender flesh holding him locked in place. All the while he could hear his father moving around him, murmuring spells.

Sirius bit down on his lip, fighting against the whimpers that struggled to escape, determinedly keeping his eyes tightly shut. These spells were only too familiar to him from the many previous such occasions. A faintly glowing aurora would be forming around his body - a dim gold now, but soon its shimmering patterns would reveal to the older man's practised eye the exact effects of the potion. It was an enchanting sight, to someone who was unaware of its purpose. He remembered a time once, a long time ago, when he had been fascinated by it, as he'd watched it engulf the forms of rats and gnomes. That was only a short while before he had first seen it around himself...

Cold - seeping up through his fingers and toes. Oh shit! Was this it? Was it starting? Sirius flashed his eyes open, glancing down towards his extremities. Blue light flickered upon gold, and he squeezed them back closed. It was starting. Oh Merlin, it was starting...

The chill continued to spread, leaving a dull, throbbing ache in its wake. The sensation moved no higher than his knees and elbows, however, before it began to fade. Sirius shook his head in confusion, his eyes opening almost involuntarily to glance again at the blue lights. They had halted, he saw, and had begun to slowly retreat. Was that it? His gaze was drawn to his father, who was rising now from his seat and setting down his scroll.

That wasn't it, no.

His father lifted another vial from a workbench as he stepped closer. He didn't speak a single word, merely forced Sirius' mouth back open - ignoring his feeble resistance - and poured the potion in. The distant, impersonal gaze probably scared Sirius more than any of the man's earlier anger. He didn't care what he did to him now. All he cared about were his precious potions. He, Sirius, was no different to him than one of his damned rats.

The effects spread. Blue lights, swiftly darkening, flickered over his entire body.

As the next dose was tipped into his mouth, he hardly even struggled - merely grimacing at the bitter, acrid taste. What point was there in fighting? It wouldn't do him any good, would it? It hadn't done him any good so far...

When his father approached him for a fourth time, he couldn't have struggled even had he possessed the will power to still do so. The lights had moved through shades of purple and into a nauseating mixture of swirling black and red. He couldn't move a single muscle. Icy numbness had been replaced by a leaden inertia, which, with the augmentation of the latest dosage, spread even further - moving now from the purely physical, into mental spheres.

His father was speaking. Words sounded in his ears, filtering slowly into his brain. He was ordering him to stand up... How could he stand up? He was tied... not to mention numb...

Pain sparked through darkness, harsh white searing through black, causing him to gasp at the sharp sensation. The ropes were gone - or so the older man's voice informed him. He would be able to stand, and if he did as he was told the pain would stop. It was only whilst he refused orders that the potion would cause him pain. But he couldn't, he thought. He couldn't move. And, a small, distant part of his brain added, he really didn't want to be following this man's instructions, anyway.

He could move, he was informed, as the pain steadily increased. To obey the instructions he could do it. But... he didn't want to...

He hardly even noticed his father's presence before him. His sight was blurry and uncertain, repeatedly slipping into a mere mass of unintelligible shape and colour. The man's hand upon his chin barely sent a shimmer of sensation through his nerve endings. He did, however, feel the potion burning its path down his throat.

Darkness fully claimed him. His consciousness seemed caught, trapped, ensnared in a small cage within his mind. He could hear the orders being spoken, but he had no control over his body's actions. He was moving - slowly, cumbersomely - a puppet whose strings were held in his father's hands. He himself could do nothing to either help or hinder. He tried... To venture a conscious thought, however, outside of the cage, caused pain to swamp him.

When the next dose of potion passed his lips, he knew nothing more.


The repetitive scritching of a quill upon parchment was the first thing that he became aware of, the irritating noise filtering through the enshrouding darkness. Next, in a sudden, overwhelming wash, the pain returned. He couldn't help the groan that escaped him. The sound of the quill stopped, to be replaced a moment later by the scrape of chair-legs upon the tiled floor. Footsteps swiftly followed.

Sirius unwillingly opened his eyes. His father stood before him, his eyes scanning over the still present aurora, keenly examining every inch. He followed the older man's gaze. A golden glow again surrounded his body – which meant that the effects of the potion had dispersed. Without speaking a single word to him, his father crossed back to his scroll and quickly scribbled some notes. When he returned, an unpleasant smile was on his face, and another vial was in his hand.

He would never be able to say just how long the testing went on for. Dose after dose of various potions were forced down his throat. Several times he lost consciousness, only for everything to begin again upon his return to reality. His father barely spoke the entire time – only to bark the occasional order. Many times, in a variety of manners, he felt his control wrested from his grip, forcing him to dance to his father's tune. His entire body was wracked with agonising pain more times than he could count. After one series of dosages he felt as if he was being torn apart. After another session he felt as if his insides had turned to flame. His screams continued to echo in his ears long after the actual sound had faded. Each time when the darkness claimed him he prayed that, this time, everything would end.

He slumped forward against his bonds, his dark hair hanging, a limp, greasy mess, around his face. He didn't know how much longer he could take this for. Each breath he drew required more and more effort, wheezing painfully against his throat. His head swam. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his father suddenly snap to his feet, but he had passed the point of caring. He simply concentrated on breathing. In. Out. Why was it getting so hard?

"Interesting..." the older man murmured, approaching him. "Seven and four... Yes, a very interesting reaction."

It was getting even harder to draw a breath. His throat felt as if it had swelled closed, allowing only a small amount of air to trickle past to his lungs - and that trickle seemed to be growing even less with each breath he took. He couldn't breathe. Oh shit... He couldn't breathe! His chest was burning as he fought for air. His sight blurred. The room faded to grey. His father continued to stand before him, scribbling notes. He tried to speak; tried to beg the man to help him, but no words emerged. Grey darkened into black. He was going to die! Oh Merlin... he was going to die... He could dimly make out the shape of his father's figure moving away. Oh shit...

Unconsciousness claimed him.


Slowly the room came back into focus. His first realisation was that he could breathe again. The next was that his father was not there. Sirius blinked, his brain refusing to process what his eyes told him. His father was gone. The chair that he had occupied was now empty. He shook his head, struggling to clear away the grogginess that continued to shroud his thoughts. With a vague sense of confusion dragging at him, he glanced around the shadowed chamber, but the older man was nowhere to be found. He was alone.

He was also, however, still bound to the chair. Or was it... bound again? Had he been free for a time? He thought so... He had a vague memory of being so... but no, he couldn't remember. He briefly struggled, fighting to break free, but his efforts merely seemed to cause the ropes to draw tighter. His arms were pinned down to the chair-arms - there was nothing he could do to ease the pain as the harsh fibres of the rope dug into the tender, swollen flesh of his broken arm.

With a strangled sob, he gave up fighting. He wasn't going to get away... He had to accept that. It was impossible. Even if he did get out of the damned chair, he doubted he could get out of the building. For that matter – he doubted he could even get out of the room. His situation was hopeless.

How long had he been in here now? He had no way of telling. The ropes binding his wrists obscured the face of his watch. He didn't even have the slightest idea whether it was day or night. With the heavy black curtains that shrouded the windows, no light of any sort could get through. It could have been hours or, for all he knew, days.

Sirius shivered in the room's chill, biting back another sob as his battered body protested the involuntary movement. Usually the cold, as well as the dismal gloom, was lifted by the fire in the grate, but in his father's absence, this, as well as the gas-lamps that adorned the walls, remained unlit. Only the few, small fires, set beneath cauldrons around the large room, were able to struggle in any way against the tenacious darkness – but they were able to do little other than disperse a few shadows.

He really did feel like shit, he thought, drawing a shaky breath into his burning chest. He had given up trying to isolate the individual pains and accepted now that there was not a single point on his body that didn't hurt in some way. He was also hungry and thirsty - the effects of which merely heightened his overall feeling of shittiness.

With a sigh, Sirius turned his listless gaze back to the room around him. He hadn't really had a chance before now to actually take in the state of the room – not that he particularly wanted to now, but he didn't really have much else to do, did he? It was definitely far different to the last time he had been in there. All signs of his destruction had been cleared away. The debris was gone. The spillages had been mopped up. Only a handful of potions were simmering in cauldrons. Sirius didn't even want to think about what was in them. Even had he not just been forced to sample a large range of his father's concoctions, he knew only too well what the man had been developing.

He wished he had never found that letter. If he hadn't done so, none of this would have happened. It wasn't as if any of his actions had actually made a difference, was it? If only... There were so many 'if only's. If only he had left when he had the chance. He should have just gone back to Hogwarts that night; should have simply informed Dumbledore of his father's work; should have ignored the potions and left. He should never have tried to play the hero. It had all been for nothing. Pointless - completely pointless. After-all, Voldemort would still get his potions, and he... He was trapped in this hellish place when he could have been safe at Hogwarts. His actions had done nothing but get him into deeper trouble.

And Tibs... if only he hadn't sent Tibby to get his wand. She would still be alive if he hadn't. He had known what would happen to her were she caught. He had known - yet he had still sent her. What sort of person did that make him?

Worthless...

If only - and everything really came back to this - if only he hadn't sent Snape to the Willow. If he hadn't... If he hadn't he would still have friends. He could have stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas - he wouldn't have had to face his parents again until the summer. And... and he would never have had to go into his father's study in search of Dumbledore's letter...

To say that he regretted his actions would be the biggest understatement of the century. But that wasn't going to help him now. He was simply left with the knowledge that he had brought it all on himself. Everything he had done over the past month had been stupid. A mistake. All he had done was cause pain, and not just for himself.

Tears were streaming down his cheeks. He couldn't even lift a hand to wipe them away. He closed his eyes, fighting them back. What if his father returned? Or his mother? He couldn't let them see him cry! It was probably stupid... After everything that he had been through, what could it hurt now to let them see him weep? But... He just couldn't. It would be the final indignity. Despite his efforts, though, the tears continued to fall. He gritted his teeth, biting back the sobs that threatened to escape - the salty taste of his tears lingering upon his dry lips.

He needed his friends. He needed them now, more than he had ever done so before – and he had driven them away. Why had he done it? Even if Snivellus had deserved it he should never have used Moony in such a way. He was a fool. A stupid, worthless fool.

Time slipped past. His tears finally ended, the liquid drying on his cheeks. He slumped on the chair, his thoughts adrift. The steady sputtering of bubbling potions, and the shuffling of the captive gnomes in their cages, were the only noises he could hear, and they formed a background to his depressing musings.

The sound of the outer door opening jolted him suddenly back to reality. Footsteps sounded loudly. Sirius stared at the closed door that lay between him and... whomever it might be, willing it to remain still. Go away, he silently begged. Please, just go away. He wasn't sure he could take any more...

The door opened.

"You look like shit."

In the doorway stood Regulus, a slightly nervous expression on his face as he gazed at him.

"What a wonderful observation," Sirius growled, forcing his racing heartbeat to slow. "What do you want, Regulus?"

The younger boy slowly advanced into the room, casting nervous glances back towards the exit as he came. Whether he was checking his escape route or making sure that he hadn't been followed, Sirius couldn't be sure.

"You really do look like shit," he finally repeated, coming to stand in front of him.

"So you said. Have you got anything else to say or are you going to leave me in peace." He couldn't help but feel fairly uncomfortable beneath his brother's unreadable gaze, but... this was Regulus. He wasn't ready to feel scared of Regulus.

For the space of several long moments silence reigned between them.

"Father's gone out," the younger boy suddenly blurted.

"So - what? You've come to gloat while he's not here?" Sirius' voice was harsh, rasping against his dry throat. Merlin, he needed a drink!

"No! I... I don't know... This is stupid. I'm going."

Without another word he turned and walked away. Sirius stared after him in confusion. That 'no' had been quite emphatic. In fact... his brother had actually sounded friendly! Was it possible...? Was it actually possible that his brother was wanting to help him? It was an odd concept for Sirius to get his head around, having been faced with open hostility from the other boy for the past five years. Even before that they had never been particularly close. Sirius had always been the trouble-maker; the one who broke the rules. Regulus had gloried in his position as the 'good boy', and had rarely missed a chance to get his older sibling into trouble.

"If you didn't come to gloat," he finally croaked, stilling his brother's hand upon the door-handle, "then why did you come?"

"I said - I don't know," Regulus replied, his face still turned away.

"Reg..." He paused, biting on his lower lip as he tried to decide how to proceed. He had to get his brother on his side – but how? He had to keep him in here, had to keep him talking. "Where's he gone?" he finally asked. "Father? Where's he gone? And when's he going to get back?" He couldn't help the slightly scared wobble in his voice as he asked after the older man. He drew a deep breath, hoping that his brother didn't notice it.

Regulus shrugged, turning back to look at him. "I dunno. He's been gone a while now, though. He could be back anytime." He cast another nervous glance at the door as he said this.

"What about Mother? What's she doing?"

"She's making the final arrangements for tomorrow's party," Regulus said, slowly retracing his steps across the room until he was again standing before him.

"Tomorrow's...? Tomorrow is New Year's Eve?"

"Yeah." The other boy cast him a slightly bemused look. "Why? What day did you think it was?"

He slowly shook his head. "Last thing I knew it was still the 28th..."

"No. It's the 30th today. It's still morning – elevenish, I think."

The 30th! He'd been tied to this bloody chair for over a day and a half! He closed his eyes, biting down on his lip as he struggled to stay calm. He had to get out of here... He had to! Panicking wouldn't help him.

"Regulus?" he asked, opening his eyes to meet his brother's. "Can you help me get out of here?

The younger boy's eyes widened in fear, his eyes flicking quickly towards the doorway as he took a step back, shaking his head.

"Please, Regulus... Please help me!"

"I can't, Sirius!" he cried. "You know that. I can't - he'd kill me..." Regulus paused, his eyes shifting nervously away. "Besides," he added, "you deserve it..."

Sirius closed his eyes, his breath escaping him in a sigh. "Just... go away, Regulus," he finally said. He didn't have the energy to beg any further. What point was there? It would never work. Besides... His brother was right, wasn't he? He did deserve it. He deserved everything. "Leave me alone."

But Regulus didn't go. Sirius opened his eyes to find his brother standing still before him, shuffling uncertainly from foot to foot.

"Is there... Um... Do you need anything?"

This couldn't be real, Sirius thought, again closing his eyes. He had to be dreaming. Hallucinating. He gave his head a shake - a movement that he instantly regretted as pain shot through his aching skull. The younger boy was still there, however, when he looked again, a pained expression in his eyes.

"Other than to get out of here?" he finally replied.

"Sirius..."

"It's alright. I know. You can't." He paused. "Water. I need a drink. Please."

With an abrupt nod of his head, Regulus scuttled over to the sink. Sirius watched him in silence. After a few minutes of scavenging for a goblet, the younger boy returned and held the brimming cup to his lips. He drank it down thirstily, hardly pausing as the cool liquid filled his mouth. Twice it was refilled, and, had his brother's movements not been growing increasingly nervous, his eyes rarely leaving the door, he would have asked for more.

"I've got to go, Sirius," Regulus squeaked, his knuckles white against the dark wood of the goblet. "He could be back anytime. I don't want... I don't want to anger him too!"

"I know," Sirius answered. "And... thank you."

"Bye, Siri."

Without another word the younger boy was gone, depositing the goblet at the sink on his way. Siri... He hadn't called him that in years. Not since before Hogwarts... Sirius sighed, leaning back in the chair, his eyes closed. Regulus had actually been nice to him! A slight warm glow filled him at the thought. Regulus had actually been nice!

The warm glow remained with him for the next half-hour or so – only to be replaced by a sudden sinking sense of nausea as his father re-entered the room.

"Now then," the older man smirked, slinging his cloak over the back of his chair. "Where were we up to?


A/N – I'm so sorry about the wait for this chapter! I have just had the two most insane weeks. I've been lucky to get the odd half-hour in which to sit down and write. Hopefully things will be back to normal now though, so Chapter 12 should be up next Sunday. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. There are bits of it I'm not actually so fond of myself, but I thought I'd better post it... If you have any comments – positive or negative – please do leave me a review!

Allacaya – I'm really sorry about the wait – I hope you didn't fret too much over Sirius! As for that 'familiar scenario' bit, I didn't mean for it to be obscure. Think back to Ch. 6: "He hung now, suspended in mid-air, as his father bellowed his insults at him." His father was in a slightly better mood this time, but that was what he was referring to. I think he rather enjoyed that game of let's-toss-Sirius-around-the-room... No, MWP have never been to Sirius' house. Firstly, he knows how his parents would react if he brought them home, and secondly, he doesn't want to subject his friends to his parent's rants. So, no, they have no idea what his home-life if like. Um, yeah – I think it's amazing Sirius didn't turn out to be a Death Eater, as well. I think Tibby probably had quite an influence on him – probably more than his parents did. There will be quite a bit more about his childhood later on, where you should be able to see just why he turned out the way he did. Scarily enough, it was while studying child development (I've trained to be a nursery nurse) that I got one of my original ideas for this story. I wanted to explore just what would make him turn out the way he did. I hope you like this chapter!

Mily – Thank you! I hope you like this chapter. The torture will come to a stop... eventually. Hogwarts express leaves on the 2nd.

Gohan Hugger – I actually burst out laughing when I read your review! I hope you've recovered somewhat, at least enough to have read this chapter.

Phinea – Thanks for your reviews. I'm sorry you liked Tibs so much, but I'm afraid that was going to be her fate from the moment I created her. Please do forgive me... Although, having said that, I do rather like being called 'evil'!

Lhune – Yeah, I'm obsessed with Cassia and Sio too. That's actually been a bit of a problem this past couple of weeks. I actually have a free half-hour or so in which to write, and what am I doing? Reading 'Cell Number Nine'. Um... Whoops! I'm afraid Sirius won't be able to rethink using the mirror, as he doesn't have it with him. He left it at Hogwarts – he didn't see any point in taking it home with him, where it would only be at risk from his family. The Hogwarts express leaves on the 2nd and term begins again on the 3rd. I hope that helps.

Ramis Hunroll – I'm glad you liked that chapter. Personally, I don't think this one is as good, but maybe that's just me. Yeah, he will get back to Hogwarts and see his friends eventually.

Cicci Green – I do like being called evil. Umm, sorry! That one week wait became two... Hope you liked this chapter.

Jan – thanks for the review. Here's your update, though I'm afraid it wasn't really soon...

Bye-de-byes

Misthea