A Chance for Light

The Games Begin



Remus shivered in the dark room as Snape circled him slowly, making sure every detail was ready. Bruises and bloody gashes adorned the werewolf’s exposed upper torso as a result of the careful application of glamours, yet another thing Snape had proven to be despicably good at. There was no denying it, Remus thought: he wouldn’t cross Snape without thinking twice. Yet here he was, pretending to be his prisoner and wilfully following him into the clutches of Death Eaters.



“Good heavens, Lupin, calm down,” Snape snapped irritably. “You look bloody ready to pounce if the wind so much as changes.”



“I’d rather it stopped completely, actually. The draft in here is horrible,” complained Remus. “Is this all really necessary?”



“Would you rather have gone down without a fight?” the taller, lanky man asked harshly. Remus sighed.



“I just don’t like how quickly this is all going,” he admitted.



Snape frowned. “I cannot deny that playing a Death Eater’s captive is not a desirable course of events, but you must understand that the longer we wait, the worse things will get for Black. This works out beautifully; you play into Malfoy’s clever idea. He wants leverage over Sirius. You, as one of his closest friends, could simply not be any more perfect.”



Lucius had called on the Potions Master for help, asking him to procure a victim from Hogwarts. Snape, ever the quick thinker, understood immediately the older man’s plan and offered something even better: a fellow Marauder to bring down the mighty Gryffindor. Lucius was expecting Lupin to be delivered to Malfoy Manor that very evening.



Remus had not been terribly receptive of the sudden acceleration of the plan. As a captive, he would have a wand carefully concealed. It had in fact been Transfigured into a sock, which Snape would subtly switch back to its proper form when the time was right. Remus would thus be helpless, in a very real way, for a time. It was that part that he’d been having trouble swallowing, but as he couldn’t come up with a more workable plan on such short notice, he’d been forced to accept. Dumbledore and the Order had, of course, been informed, and would be monitoring his progress via Snape in case anything should go wrong.



“Are you ready?” queried Snape, in a softer tone than normal. Remus hesitated, so he continued. “Look, Lupin. Of all the foolhardy Gryffindors I have known, I consider you the most capable in a situation involving real bravery. You should consider that an incredible compliment.”



Remus leered a wolflike grin and stretched, cracking his back loudly. “Alright then, I’ve heard it all. Let’s get a move on.”



Snape nodded acquiescence and pulled his wand out of his robes. “I do apologize, then.”



The last thing Remus knew was a sharp crack, and darkness.



--



Sirius’ eyelids fluttered open and he peered through his thick, messy locks of hair as the dungeon’s door flew open with a resounding crash. Upon seeing his host, Lucius Malfoy, practically bound down the stairs with a telltale smirk, Sirius grimaced.



‘This probably won’t be good,” he thought dryly, straightening stiffly.



Lucius approached swiftly and knelt beside Sirius. He leaned forward ever so slowly, never compromising his impeccable posture and whispered,



“Let the games begin, my little Gryffindor.”



Sirius shuddered as he felt Lucius’ lips graze his ear, and sharply twisted his head away.



“What are you on about, you rutting maniac?” It was clear he didn’t expect any immediate threat, as Voldemort was still absent, but his eyes were narrowed suspiciously and his body tensed to defend himself.



Lucius straightened, clearly unconcerned with paying Sirius more attention than he thought necessary. Crossing his arms and regarding his prisoner patiently, he waited.



Sirius stood up with a slight clanking of the chain encircling his ankle, and stepped forward challengingly.



“Relax, Black.” Lucius rolled his eyes. “Lord Voldemort hasn’t arrived yet. Although your existence is about to get a bit more...exciting.” Calmly, Lucius turned to a nearby wall and pulled open a drawer that had gone unnoticed by Sirius.



He turned back, a grin revealing pristine teeth. “Now, first things first. Strip.”



Sirius responded with a sharp bark of laughter. “So, you really have gone off your rocker, huh Malfoy?”



Lucius wasn’t ruffled. “Actually, Black, it’s quite simple. Although I could break you eventually through traditional means, I consider humiliation to be one of the most effective – and fun – ways to amuse oneself with a particularly irritating victim.”



“You really think –”



“Come off it, Black. You will do what I want. All that remains to be discovered is what it takes to break you. And, for that matter, how much you will enjoy it when I finally do.”



Sirius’ lips curled in disgust. “I will never lower myself for you, you disgusting, pathetic, half-witted wanker!”



“Would you prefer to join the ranks of the loyal, and achieve your fullest potential?”



“NEVER!” he roared, and lunged forward, stopping only when his ankle restraint jerked him sideways. Lucius smirked.



“Very well then.” Waving his wand casually, he flipped Sirius so that the dark-haired man’s face was pressed against the rough stone wall. Sirius’ wrists and ankles were spread and restrained, forcing him into a spread-eagle position with his back exposed. He still wore the battered-looking casual robes he’d been captured in, but couldn’t repress a shiver at the vulnerability he suddenly felt. Both his freedom of movement and vision had been cut off in mere seconds. On top of that, Lucius had fallen eerily silent, and the only thing Sirius could hear was ominous rustling.



Suddenly, and without warning, the air was rent with a harsh whistle, and a trail of fire exploded across Sirius’ back. A shocked yell escaped him, and every muscle protested as his back arched to escape the burning.



“Perhaps you should thank your lucky stars you haven’t removed your clothes yet,” Lucius commented silkily. He raised his arm again and rained another blow of the heavy leather whip on Sirius’ unprotected back, eliciting a grunt and sharp intake of breath.



Lucius was pleased at the man’s attempts to conceal his pain as the whipping continued. Every grunt or barely audible moan told of typical Gryffindor pride, and Lucius felt his cock stir at the prospect of gradually destroying it.



Finally, after what felt like hours of unbearable pain, the rain of lashes suddenly stopped. The silence in the dungeon was profound, broken only by harsh panting as Sirius attempted to recover. He could feel the cool air caressing bloody gashes between the tatters of his robes, and tried not to make it too obvious how much he was relying on his chains to hold him up.



Then even that luxury was taken away as the chains disappeared. Sirius, leaning heavily against the wall, turned to face Lucius, who had his wand trained evenly on him.



“Enjoyable, Black?” he queried, blonde eyebrow raised.



“Very,” came the dry response.



“Would you like it to continue?”



“Of course not, you git.” Sirius’ tone was resigned, knowing that Lucius was merely toying with him. This, if anything, was merely the beginning.



“I’ll give you one more chance, Black. Do as I say and take your clothes off.”



“Fuck off.”



Lucius let a quiet chuckle escape him. “Excellent, then. I will return momentarily, and I feel our discussion will go much more smoothly.”