Lone Wolf | SIRIUS BLACK

Chapter Fifty Five

*Trigger Warning: Very descriptive torture scene and violence.

| M E M O R Y |

July, 1997

MALFOY MANOR was as I pictured it; dreary, obscenely opulent and black as the souls which inhabited it.  The wrought iron gate stood obnoxiously tall, the swirling spires were level with the top floor of the mansion.  The gate was a sign 'you may not enter' unless invited, but I knew that.  Everyone who knew the Malfoys and their pureblood superiority shtick knew that.

The manor loomed — it was observable from a distance, even in my blurry vision which was a product of my just waking up a few moments ago.  There were strong enchantments on the chains the Snatchers used to bind me, they sapped all of my energy, even after only a few minutes.  Besides, the fight with Val had been taxing on my body, my head was still pounding.

Remus had been talking throughout the fight, his patronus standing unharmed as Val and I struggled against each other.  As her neck had been snapped and the monster that was Fenrir Greyback hoisted me into the air, I had heard him say, "I love you, Cassie.  And I would tell you to stay strong but I know I don't have to because you've always been strong.  You're going to bring the werewolves against Voldemort and we will win.  I need to go but I want to tell you again; we all love you."

Fenrir had laughed then, broken me out of my reverie of listening to Remus and looking at Val's lifeless corpse.  Remus's patronus faded in time to the blackness encroaching on me, disappearing before I was swallowed up by the dark.

And now I was here.

Wandless.

Held in chains to be a docile dog, not a werewolf.

To be handed to Voldemort.

It was fair to say that my odds of survival appeared to be grim. The thing I tried to tell myself as we neared the gate was that the odds had never been good but I had never died. And today was not the day that I laid down and took whatever these Death Eaters wanted to hand to me.

The gate opened soundlessly and the two Snatchers accompanying Fenrir Greyback strode through ahead of us. I couldn't see much of the manor now that we were fast approaching it, what with the chains weighing my neck down — the high ground of the rolling hills had allowed me to see — but now all I saw was a lawn of manicured, emerald green grass before obsidian stone steps which gave way to a matching grand entryway of obsidian floors and walls of smooth black velvet bordered in swirling, dark green trim. The floor was so shiny it was like a mirror, reflecting an extravagant three-tier chandelier hanging with no strings, merely suspended by magic.

But I could see everything behind it, wealth built upon blood, bone and prejudice.

And I didn't care if I got the Cruciatus curse for it, I did the one I could while I was restrained so tightly. I spat on the floor, where Greyback then chose to deposit me — rather unceremoniously — only seconds later. The thud my body made, along with the metallic changing of the chains, announced my presence to her.

Bellatrix.

She had never looked particularly put together to me, I always thought she had a few cogs missing in her head to make it difficult for the wheels to do their job. She looked even more worse for wear now — that tattered black corset dress she seemed to have a million of was torn in the skirt, the curly hair that never untangled was coming undone on one side as if she had ripped a clump out and it was barely hanging to her skull. Then my gaze travelled to her hands; they were stained scarlet red — blood. That was definitely blood, it looked exactly like Constance's had when I woke up in the forest after killing her.