Sorry this update took so long. I've been sick. I still am a bit actually. Thank you Léne for updating again. I though it was pretty clear but I can be (very) bad at judging other peoples responses so I was just being on the safe side. Glad you think it wasn't nessescary J

Day 10.

Forest Clearing:

The Dark Mark had started burning at seventeen minutes passed nine. At twenty-eight minutes passed Serverus arrived at the deatheater gathering. Again he was 'punished' before the meeting began.

They'd caught an auror this time. To make things even better he was a muggle-born.

He was brought into the circle with his hands and feet bound. His mousey brown hair hung in bloody bangs, practically covering his eyes.

It was a long time before he died. The sun was starting to come up.

Voldermort dismissed the deatheaters. They started to disapperate. Snape headed for his broom. Four words from Voldermort stopped him dead.

"Serverus, you will remain."

He turned, nervous but refusing to let it show. The smile on Tom Riddle's face was evil even when he was not making a conscious effort to be intimidating.

"I have a job for you."

With an effortless motion of his wand he caused a piece of parchment to fly to the younger wizard.

"Be at that address at four tomorrow. You are to assist in the creation of a new potion." Serverus was about to turn and leave when Voldermort spoke again. "Just to make this absolutely clear. When term begins and you once again have access to your wand, you will be participating fully both in sport and in nights such as this one."

Deatheater Headquaters:

Sirus could open his eyes again. But nothing he saw brought any comfort. The walls, floor and ceiling of his cell were damp scarred blocks of grey stone. The door was heavy wood. There were no windows. It was probably far underground. The only light was what came through the crack under the door. The air smelt sickeningly of blood and decay.

He looked around for his trousers, found them in a heap near one of the walls. Hurriedly he pulled them on, ignoring the pain the movement caused. At least now he was covered. He didn't want to look at the bruises on his hips. The ones on his chest and circling his wrists he couldn't avoid. But it wasn't too hard to pretend that they, like the multitude of other wounds that covered his body, were due to a beating from his parents. Yes, that was all it was. He'd been bold. His parents had punished him. Just like any son would be punished. And now they'd sent him to his room. That was all. None of this was happening.

He scraped the bare skin of his arm along the rough stone of the wall. He repeated the action.

'This isn't happening. I'm not here. This isn't real.'

A little trickel of blood stained his skin, black in the darkness.

'This isn't real. No. If I close my eyes and count to ten I'll be back in Hogwarts with James and all my other friends.

1, 2, 3, 4...'

For the first time he could see his tormentors; three men and a woman. They wore the black robes of deatheaters but had dispensed with the masks.

One of the men had an air of leadership about him. He was tall with broad shoulders and closely cropped brown hair. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties. A dangerous intelligence showed in his grey eyes.

Of the remaining two men one was heavily muscled, with a permanent scowl on his thin lips. The other was noticeably overweight. His hair was sandy coloured and plastered to his head. His round face wore an expression of stupidity.

The woman could have been beautiful - if it hadn't been for the cruelty etched into every line of her face. Her black hair was tied back in a long plait. She was young. In fact Sirus thought he could remember seeing her around Hogwarts a few years ago.

'Oh well, what difference does it really make? They're probably all friends of my parents anyway.'

The tall man approached.

He backhanded the teenager to the floor and climbed on top of him. Vulgarly he moved his hands over the smaller body. Then suddenly he stopped. The woman had spoken.

"I want first turn this time Joseph."

The words were formed slowly, languidly, with a hint of what might have been boredom. A slight but unpleasant smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

'Joseph' looked angry but stood nonetheless. Another emotion flashed briefly across his face. Was he afraid of her? She moved with exaggerated slowness to stand over Sirus. She pulled up her robe, was wearing nothing beneath it. She straddled him, positioning herself practically on top of his head.

"Suck me."

"No." His throat was ruined from screaming and lack of water. He could barely force the word out as a whisper.

Laughing wickedly she took a wand from her pocket.

"Crucio."

Pain. So much. More than his mind could ever process. His muscles convulsed, forcing broken bones farther out of place. Blood began to flow steadily from his nose.

"You will do it."