Break

Break--Chapter 2

by cyanide blue

"They won't let us have any fun, you know," Flint says, and Percy is obviously hesitant to feel sorry for the Death Eater. "We're not allowed to touch the Muggles--like we would want to--but well, the blood traitors? They're entirely free to entertain oneself with."

"Keep your hands off of me, Flint," he snaps, though he knows it'll do no good.

Flint just laughs loudly, mockingly, and says nothing else.

"What have you done?" Percy desperately tries to bring himself to normal, but he's been in these chains for hours? Days? Weeks? Time is an illusion. Pain is real. His voice is harsh, worn, and barely more than a defeated whisper. "What have you done?"

"Me?" Flint looks surprised. "I killed five Aurors and six Mudbloods, so far. Our Lord... he's done much more."

Percy tries not to think about--oh god oh god Ron is an Auror oh god--the inevitable, and the truth. Lord Voldemort is back. And is winning.

Or so Flint wants him to think.

"You're lying," Percy says frankly. "You want me to give up hope."

"Why would I lie to you, Percival?" Flint grins appreciatively as Percy cringes at his full name, though he could not know why.

Penelope called him that, in that teasing voice of hers... Penny... god I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm wrong and I love you. Now he is nothing to anybody, his family having given up months earlier, his first--and only--love gone in disgust, and the truth of just how alone he is stares him in the face with the dark eyes of Marcus Flint.

He wants to die.

"So I would give up hope. So I would let you do what you will with me." Percy wonders if reverse psychology is true--if he begged for his life, would Flint kill him? Or would he drag it out longer?

"I assure you it's true, Weasley. Surely you've heard the screams from our other residents?" He has. He'll never sleep soundly again, if he lives through this. "This is not a ruse to convince you. It's real. Lord Voldemort," Flint savors the name, "has won."

"But... Harry Potter." Percy, hardly the optimist, has to ask.

Flint visibly pauses. "Don't worry your head over it." He ruffles Percy's hair. "He's ours."

"You haven't found him, have you?" Percy's heart leaps with the slightest hope. Potter could be alive... most certainly he'd keep Ron and Ginny safe if he could. He has to be alive.

Flint's eyes flash dangerously, and he seizes Percy's hair roughly, crushing his lips against Percy's so hard that his head presses against the stone wall. Percy scrabbles to try to push Flint away, but Flint holds him fast. Entirely on instinct, Percy bites down on Flint's lower lip and draws blood. The Death Eater pulls away, touching his lip gingerly.

"Bastard," he murmurs.

Percy blinks. Marcus Flint has just kissed him. Flint is... gay?

"Really want me then, don't you." A dry statement, almost blank words without life, it still manages to catch Flint's ire. Percy winces as Flint backhands him hard.

"You have nothing I would ever want," Flint murmurs in his face--his breath smells coppery and Percy is horrified to note the scent of blood that he drew. "You are a filthy, poor, Mudblood-loving failure."

"Your breath smells like blood," Percy says. "Pure blood."

Flint opens his mouth to speak, but says nothing. His eyes narrow and Percy can't tell exactly what the expression on his face is--hunger, wrath, some sort of odd mix. Percy recoils as Flint leans into him, actually licking his cheek--discomfort and disgust are understatements to the horror Percy feels right now, deep and dark and slithering.

"It'll be your blood next," Flint whispers, and with him so close to Percy's ear, Percy can hear him as he licks the blood from his lips. It is not a comforting sound.

Someone near the door clears their throat, and Percy has never been more glad for an interruption.

"Having fun, Marcus?" the person drawls. "I would think you've better taste."

Flint pulls away from him, turning a glare to the person that Percy vaguely recognizes as Zabini, from Potter's class. The boy joined the Ministry two years earlier, right after he left school, with fantastic marks, a quick business mind and a fondness for the rules. He recalls talk of Zabini being "the next Percy Weasley." The next Percy Weasley, a Death Eater; quite humorous, really.

"It's called torture, Zabini."

"So that's what they call it these days," Zabini says dryly.

"I could take your head off if I liked, Zabini. The Ministry's gone, no one will care if one of our spies is gone. Our Lord wouldn't care. And certainly," Flint snorts, "none of us would care."

"Getting snippy now, tsk tsk." Zabini eyes Flint with distaste, then looks at Percy curiously. "I wouldn't think this is torture, aren't you gay?"

"No," Percy says quickly, indignantly.

"Funny, I always thought you were," Zabini says offhand. "Anyway--Flint, do be careful who you 'torture' next time." He gestures to the open door. "Anyone could see."

Flint grabs Zabini by the shoulders and shoves him into a wall. "I will do as I please, and you will let me do so without oh-so-kindly informing me of your opinion," Flint informs him with gritted teeth. "So go before I rip your bloody head off." He pulls Zabini away from the wall and shoves him towards the door--the younger boy nearly trips but catches himself as he backs out, his eyes wide from Flint's threat.

Flint turns to Percy, and without a word, unlocks the restraints that hold him. Percy collapses to the ground bonelessly, unfortunately about as able to run away as before. He tries to sit up, rubbing his raw wrists gently, attempting to get the blood back in--when he raises his head, he sees Flint's wand directly in his face.

"Think you're better than me now?" Flint's voice is flat.

The question is so unexpected that Percy just stares for a moment. "Yes," he says, and immediately regrets it.

Flint shakes his head, disgust plain on his face. He lifts his wand and with a jerky motion, a spell hits Percy over the head hard. He falls hard onto the stone, barely conscious when Flint slams the door.