Chapter Two

George was freezing; he pulled his coat closer to his shivering body as he walked down the silent London street. He heard a groan from an alley, glancing in he thought that he saw a man, but he convinced himself he was imagining, so he continued to walk towards his apartment, more than ready to be home, where he knew his twin was waiting for him.

He normally didn't work so late, however, he had paper work to finish up, and Fred was growing impatient. Fred always was impatient. George thought with a wry smile. A man stepped out from an alley, stopping in front of George, and when he tried to step around him, the man caught George in his arm. He turned to run the other way, but another man appeared. His vision cut to black as a dark bag flew over George's head.

"Bloody hell!" Harry shouted, his words echoing in the dungeon, "Stop being a pansy and try my bugging spell!"

"No way am I trying anything you came up with Potter!" Draco protested, "Try it yourself!"

"No!" Harry bellowed, merely not wanting to let Draco win.

"Well, I'm not trying it!" Draco glared.

"Figures." Harry muttered.

"What did you say?" Draco seethed.

"You heard me."

"Fine!" Draco grabbed his wand "Tableaux!"

The feather quivered, floated into the air, spun, and slowly melted into a mass of floating white. The floating white reformed, a white flat square appeared, and slowly colour streaked the surface. A figure appeared on the white square, it was Draco. A painting had appeared from the feather, and a painting promptly caught fire, ashes falling to the ground.

George saw an empty room, almost empty. Besides him there were five men standing around him, and a fireplace on the wall. Without words, one of the men bent down, tying George's hands behind his back with wire. George tried to fight back, but another man held him down.

George was forced to his feet; before a punch was deliver to his chest, sending him to his knees. Oh god, no, please no, he thought. His fears were confirmed as a man stood in front of him, and with one hand gripped the back of his head, and with another unzipped the crotch of his pants. No, god no, please, no, no, no, please, don't, no George pleaded with a god he didn't believe in as his head was forced towards the man.

He clamped his mouth shut, but when the man pinched his nostrils, he gaped his mouth open to flood his deprived lungs with air. The other man stood around watching as George was forced down onto the man's grotesque length, a few even stroking themselves with a grim relish, a disgusted fascination.

George hated the taste. The only man he had ever tasted was Fred, but now, the faceless man was incessantly driving to the back of his throat, well passed his gag reflex, with a sick lust. Let is end, let it end, let him stop, let them leave! George was silently screaming. As a man would, the man finished, forcing his seed down George's reluctant throat.

The next man walked up, and threw George to the ground roughly, George crying out in pain as his body hit the stone floor, he was sure something cracked. The man fiddled with the fly of George's pants, before ripping them off, and pulling off George's boxers next. George was forced to his knees, and his head thrown to the ground, his bared hips jutting into the cold air.

The man tore into George with a crazed frenzy, forcing his hips down, and tearing them up, and back down, smashing into George, who cried and screamed, his face held against the cold stone. Please no, god please, I'll do anything, just make the pain stop, just make it stop, kill them, kill them all, please god, kill these bastards, kill them, stop the pain, please god, please.

"Do you swear to obey me, in whatever I ask of you? To do whatever I say? In doing so, you shall be rewarded, but if you fail to do you, you will be punished."

"I swear master." Severus pledged.

"Extend your left forearm." Severus obliged and the Dark Lord drew his wand and pointed it at the arm. A streak of black light flew from the wand onto the arm, causing Severus to cringe as the skull and snake burned onto his arm.

Severus clutched his arm, remembering those years ago when the mark was first burned into his skin. He remembered being a double agent for both sides in the war, completely loyal to each. He remembered returning to his master. He was angry with me Severus thought, that's how it all started. He held a knife, the trembled as he slowly slid it across his left wrist. He brought the wound to his mouth, wincing in familiar pain as he let the blood flow into his mouth.

Remus paused by the house as he passed it yet again. I just need closure; I need to finish it all. He told himself this as he walked up to the house. Each footstep seemed steeped with memory, with regret. Remus had not been to the house since Voldemort killed James, those years, to Remus, seemed like centuries. Centuries of hurt, centuries of holding on to a lost hope. Remus walked closer to the house, his heart racing.

Remus and James had become friends almost immediately upon meeting, even after Remus revealed that he was a werewolf. Their friendship grew until, in their fifth year, they began to sleep together. Neither one of them had planned it, or expected it. But one lazy afternoon, a quiet two hours of boredom had somehow melted into the two boys' first sexual experience.

Remus knocked on the door.

"Hello?" A man answered, he was tall, with shaggy, untamed black hair, and brown eyes, if Remus hadn't known better, he would have sworn that it was James.

"Hi," He managed, "My name is Remus Lupin, this may sound strange but, I had a friend who lived here a while back, and, if it's no trouble, would you mind terribly, if I could possibly see, well, he died, see, years back, I haven't been able to enter the house since, and I was hoping for some, well, closure really, so if it isn't too much trouble…"

"Well," The man looked at Remus, "Alright, come in."