For the big sis/lil sis comp. I used the prompts – word: tears, word: insanity and phrase: forgive me.
Allie, this is Sam :)
.
The sounds of screams pierce the silent room. A girl – because Regulus knows that she is no woman, at least not by Pureblood standards – lies writhing on the ground, tears streaming down her pale face. The Dark Lord stands with his wand pointed at her, holding her under the Cruciatus curse, his displeasure clearly showing on his face.
The curse is just a test, to see how much it takes to break a person before they start talking, to see how long they can handle torture. It's the very same test that Regulus underwent a few months beforehand. So Regulus knows that the girl has failed because she cannot withstand pain. Her recruiter kneels in front of the Dark Lord, his head bowed. "Forgive me, my lord," he murmurs. But Regulus knows that he will pay later.
For now, the Dark Lord turns toward Regulus. "And you've brought a recruit," he says. His voice is soft, but Regulus knows that he is to be respected.
Regulus steps to the side, revealing a young man. He's barely seventeen, with sandy blond hair, but he has an urge to obey, to be a part of something else, something bigger. Regulus doesn't have to remind him to bow. The Dark Lord smirks and Regulus nods toward the center of the room.
The young man moves toward the center of the room, and bows to the Dark Lord again. Regulus watches as the Dark Lord casts the curse on him. He can tell it's not the younger man's first time under the curse, because he bites his lips and falls to his knees, but he makes no other sounds. It should take months in order not to scream under the torture.
After a while, the Dark Lord lifts the curse, and the man shakily makes his way to his feet. "You will do fine," the Dark Lord says. "What's your name?"
The blond bows his head. "Crouch, sir. Barty Crouch."
The Dark Lord smirk grows. "Your father works for the Ministry, does he not?" he questions, drumming his fingers against his wand. When Barty confirms this, the Dark Lord nods and demands, "Hold out your arm."
Barty offers him a pale forearm. The Dark Lord presses his wand against Barty's skin, and Regulus watches as Barty tenses but never flinches. It takes several minutes for the Dark Lord to burn the Mark on Barty's pale flesh. Regulus silently commends him because getting the Mark is more painful than being under the Cruciatus curse.
"Dismissed," the Dark Lord says when he finishes.
Nodding, Barty bows and murmurs, "Thank you, my lord." Regulus follows the younger man out of the meeting hall. Barty is standing just outside the door. He licks his lips, lapping up the blood that seeps out of the cut he made, and grins. And for half a second, Regulus can swear that he sees insanity dancing in Barty's brown eyes.
But he doesn't dwell on that as he presses his lips against Barty's. "You did well," Regulus murmurs softly. And Regulus can feel Barty's smile against his lips.
A/n – so many thanks to my dear Nayla for beta-ing this for me.