Day Four
James sat huddled in his cell. He could hear echoing screams from down the corridor, and it made his blood run cold that it sounded as though he were in the same room with Sirius all the way from here. Days were becoming as much of a routine as could exist in a place like this.
He'd been forced to watch, and alternatively to listen. An hour's respite, perhaps, and it would begin again. Over and over again.
As the shrieks subsided, James looked expectantly at the door of his cell. Almost on cue, it creaked open. Almost on cue, the wave of cold hit. He scrambled to his feet.
"Where is he?" he asked shakily. Sirius had not been brought to his cell since the first day, but the presence of the Dementors made it difficult to think. The Dementors only advanced, pulling James along with them. Whether they were amused by the lapse in his perspicacity of the situation or not, they gave no indication.
"Welcome to Azkaban, Gryffindor…"
"Never is a very long time…"
Sirius screamed, writhing in pain. Bellatrix kicked him in the small of the back, and he screamed louder. She laughed as she cast Cruciatus after Cruciatus.
Sirius screamed until he could scream no more…
As the world finally cleared and came into view, the first thing James saw was Sirius crumpled on the floor of the Interrogation Room. His chest was moving up and down arrhythmically, but at least he was breathing.
"Oh, yes. He's still alive. We've made sure of that." James jumped at the sound of Voldemort's voice. He clenched his teeth and his fists.
"What's the matter, Potter? Cat got your tongue?" Voldemort laughed. "No matter. Rodolphus, would you wake up Black here?"
Rodolphus Lestrange had Sirius' eyes open with only three castings of Ennervate and four good kicks, two fewer of each than the time before. He looked sorely disappointed.
James tried to rush toward him when he drew his wand again, but Bellatrix was behind him, holding him back, whispering in his ear, "Now, now, Jimmy. We don't want to do that, now, do we? We might get hurt."
James' jaw dropped as for the first time since his arrival, Sirius' bindings dropped away. His arms stayed firmly locked behind his back, and he screamed in agony when Rodolphus moved them.
"Leave them alone! They're atrophied! They're dislocated... They're..." James' words spilled out before he could think, and as expected, went unheeded. Sirius was dragged to his feet. Suddenly, James realized that he should have first wondered why he was merely being held back and not bound into the Interrogation Chair as usual. The table had been moved to be right in front of the chair. Another chair, a normal chair, was also at the table.
Routine was changing. That could only be bad for the both of them. James didn't know what to think when the burning hot chains meant for his own arms, legs, chest, and throat wrapped themselves around his best friend instead.
Voldemort was taking charge personally. James shuddered. This could only be bad for the both of them.
"James." It was always chilling to hear Voldemort use his first name. "Have a seat."
Bellatrix let go of him and shoved him forward toward the empty chair. He barely caught himself before he fell.
"I prefer to stand."
"Very well. Have it your way, then. Crucio."
Sirius cried out, tried to writhe in pain, but the chains held him fast. Voldemort strode up until he was standing close enough to brush the hair from Sirius' face, and yet he did not break the spell.
James sat.
"Was that so hard?"
Bellatrix giggled as Voldemort raised his wand. He shot her a stern look while James sat rigidly, staring longingly at his friend.
"Now, I'm afraid that I haven't been a proper host. You've been my guest for what? Nearly four days now? And I haven't even fed you properly. You must, after all, keep up your strength."
He clapped his hands, and a steaming array of food appeared on the table.
"I've had it prepared for you, so I expect you to enjoy it. You will not have many opportunities for pleasure, so take this one."
James had a difficult time keeping himself from snatching the nearest piece of meat and swallowing it whole. His hand shook as he held it back. He'd seen nothing but a stale chunk of something and a small watery bowl of He-Didn't-Want-To-Know-What since his arrival. He'd hungrily eaten the Stale Something and drained the He-Didn't-Want-To-Know-What, but how long ago had that been? It certainly had not been much. He privately suspected it had been an accident, as well.
"What about Sirius?" James asked finally.
"What about Sirius?" Voldemort countered.
"Give it to him."
"No. Not a morsel."
James' hopes crumbled. "Then I won't eat, either." He turned to look Voldemort full on, meeting the scarlet gaze.
Voldemort's only reply was to tap his wand against the chains binding Sirius. They momentarily glowed brighter, and Sirius' eyes flared with pain. He inhaled sharply as the chains shifted and resettled.
"Eat. Or he will suffer. Every time you stop…" His voice trailed off, but they both knew he didn't have to finish.
James picked up the fork and dipped it into a stew. He brought it unsteadily to his mouth. Oh, how good it smelled. Oh, how good it tasted. Hot and rich on his hungry tongue.
Another bite and another, he could see Sirius staring with a covetous look on his face. His mouth was watering so much that he was practically drooling.
"Oh, Sirius." James held out a forkful for him.
"Crucio." Voldemort cast the spell, holding his wand directly under Sirius' chin. The resulting shrieks caused James to drop the fork entirely.
"It's for you. Not for him. Was I unclear? Are you so lacking in manners that you would reject such a generous gift?"
James reached for the fallen fork, shaking so badly that he knocked over a dish on the way. He could hardly get anything into his mouth let alone swallow, but it seemed to satisfy Voldemort.
After five swallows, James felt as though he could eat no more. His eyes sought out and met Sirius' hollow, sunken eyes. Sirius had yet to regain his breath from shrieking.
Three more forced swallows and he started to hold his stomach.
"James…stop…stop…" Sirius' eyes were pleading.
James flicked his eyes to Voldemort. Could he stop? There was no order to eat everything, after all. Seeing no indication one way or the other, his eyes flicked back to Sirius.
"Stop…"
He let the fork fall.
He knew immediately that it was an error. Thirteen and a half inches of polished yew told him clearly. The wand came down gently on the chains, lingering there.
The chains began to glow, but this was not James' primary concern. They began to wrap themselves tighter and tighter…and tighter. Slowly but steadily, they constricted. Sirius let out a strangled gasp as he struggled for air.
"Stop it, he'll die!" James started fumbling already for the fallen fork.
"Yes, I dare say he will, won't he?"
James' hand found the fork. "Where will you be if your leverage dies?"
"Where will you be if your actions kill him? Can't bring him back, no matter who wins in the end, can you?"
A carrot somehow found its way into James' mouth, preventing his reply. Voldemort lifted his wand, and the chains stopped shrinking. They did not, however, loosen back to what they had been.
Sirius painfully and laboriously drew in each breath; hunger still filling his eyes.
Forcing down bite after bite, James tried to convince himself that he was helping his friend. He told himself again and again that the longer he could keep this up, the longer he could keep Sirius from torture. If he could only finish... somehow everything would be alright. Keeping his eyes on Sirius, he tried to silently convey, It will end. It will be alright. Just three more days. Haunted eyes stared back at him, and he could not ignore them, nor could he tear his eyes away.
It was the eyes that finally told him. It was not the pain that would follow, it was this, now, that was the worst torture for Sirius. It was watching, with starving eyes, while James ate, that was killing Sirius. Each passing second became more and more difficult with the knowledge that it was his own actions that were causing his friend so much pain. Finally, James had to look away from his friend's face. Sirius had pleaded for James to stop before. He'd meant it for James' benefit, but James realised now that he'd also meant it for his own.
"No more…let me stop…"
Voldemort's face spread into a wide grin. "What's the magic word?"
James could only stare.
"I'm not asking for any fancy spells or incantations, boy. Just a little bit of politeness for your elders."
"Please."
"That's the one."
James tried again. "Let me stop…please."
Voldemort clapped his hands with a flourish. The food vanished.
James promptly vomited.
"What happened to being polite?" James jumped slightly at the sound of Rodolphus' voice behind him. He'd forgotten that the pair was there. The mere motion of jumping made him vomit again.
Voldemort delicately stepped around the spreading pool. "Clean it up, Potter. I want it spotless when I return."
He headed for the door, Rodolphus and Bellatrix on his heels.
"Wait…" James could hardly believe his own daring. But it had worked once…
"Yes?" Voldemort did not turn to face him.
"He can't breathe. Let him go... or at least loosen the chains…please." James was dangerously close to begging, but he somehow didn't care.
"No." The three swept out, and the door swung shut.
As the tension melted from his muscles, James sank into the chair. But one look at Sirius forced him to his feet.
"Padfoot…I'm so sorry…"
"Not…your…fault…" There was no voice behind the words, only a wisp of air.
James tugged at the chains, but they held fast. "Stay with me, Padfoot. Hang in there."
"Try…ing…"
"Good."
It took James until that point to realize that Sirius was staring at the vomit. He nearly apologized when he saw with horror that Sirius was staring at it hungrily.
"Sirius...?" He looked warily at his friend. "When is the last time you ate anything?"
Sirius didn't answer, but his eyes said it all. He had no idea. His mouth was still watering. "What do they feed you, Sirius?"
"Don't... ask..."
James winced. The decisions went through his head, and he knew there was only one thing he could do. "Of all the things I never thought I'd do... this was never even on the list, Padfoot." Bending over, he looked at the second time around stew. It was almost entirely intact. He'd hardly had time to digest it, after all. Finding a piece of meat, he picked it up and shook it off.
"Sirius. Come on. You're going to get something into your stomach today. I know it's not exactly ideal, but it's probably better than what you usually get anyway." Touching the soggy meat to Sirius' lips, James coaxed it into his mouth. "That's it. Come on."
Sirius clearly thought he'd died and gone to heaven, judging from the way his eyes fluttered. James gently put his hand on Sirius' cheek, carefully helping where he could. Then, Sirius started to swallow, and everything began to go wrong.
It looked as though Sirius was trying to cough, but hardly any sound came out. Matters only became worse as he struggled for breath. The obstruction shifted to block his airway completely, putting a stop to the ragged gasps and high pitched wheezing of only a moment before. James started to panic. With Sirius chained to the chair, it would be almost impossible for him to help his friend. Sirius' eyes bulged as he tried to force the piece of meat out of his throat. His face was turning red from lack of air, and James was sure he would be thrashing around if he hadn't been tied down. As it was, he was straining against the bonds as much as he could. Unfortunately, Sirius was only hurting himself in the process.
"Stop squirming for a minute!" James commanded, positioning himself in front of Sirius. Unfortunately, his friend's instincts wouldn't allow him to stop. Drawing back his arm, he apologized before punching Sirius in the stomach as hard as he could. Sirius' body jerked forward as much as it could, but he was still choking. James punched again. It took three more tries before Sirius coughed up the meat.
Sirius gasped weakly a few more times as James knelt by his side, apologizing repeatedly, not being able to do anything more to help his friend.
"Ja..." Sirius coughed more. James hurried to wipe up anything that came up lest Sirius choke again.
"What is it?'
"Don't."
"Don't? Don't what?"
"Don't... try... help... me. Can't. Worry... 'bout... your... self... don't... give... in." Sirius' eyes rolled up as the effort robbed him of what little strength he had.
James thought that this might possibly be worse than any torture Voldemort could dream up. Sirius was, he hated to admit, right. There was nothing he could do. Kneeling by his friend's side, clasping his hand, James wept.