Log in

No account? Create an account
Atrum Vox Part 4 (Bellatrix, Andre Rosier, Dearborn) - alley_skywalker [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

Atrum Vox Part 4 (Bellatrix, Andre Rosier, Dearborn) [Nov. 24th, 2012|10:51 pm]
[Tags|, , , , , ]

Title: Atrum Vox
Author: alley_skywalker
Characters/Parings: Severus/Lucius, Abraxas, Regulus, Orion, Evan and Andre Rosier, Bellatrix, Dearborn
Rating: PG-13
Parts: 5
Summary: Some of the most powerful magic is also Dark Magic. Yet there are those who revel in its power and do not shy away from the darkness.
Notes: 1. Atrum Vox is Latin for “dark power” or “powers of dark”.
2. This is a cycle. That is, these are ficlets/drabbles that are unrelated to each other aside from having a common theme, in this case, dark deeds/rituals. These ficlets were originally written as entries for darkarts_ldws. This is a cumulative header, each part will be posted with its own title, word count, rating and warnings.

Title: Power
Characters: Bellatrix, Andre Rosier, Dearborn
Word Count: 600
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Torture (mostly non-graphic)

“Aren’t you supposed to be our specialist in this?” Bellatrix teased Andre Rosier as he led her to the interrogation cells at the Lord’s headquarters.

“I am. But we’re talking about an Auror here, Bella. I need a second strong Crucio to break his shields but also someone who can control the spell.” He looked at her seriously. “I’m serious about the control part.”

She shrugged. “Alright, alright. I thought Barty was your apprentice?”

“Barty’s just sixteen, Bella. This isn’t a job for a child.”

They walked through a set of metal double doors and into a long, dark hall. The smell here was dank and the light came from torches placed at random along the walls. Their footsteps echoed hauntingly, bouncing off the grey walls. Bellatrix took in the sheer, dark power of this place. It wasn’t Azkaban but it was goo enough for its purpose and even more satisfying to the internal magic, uncorrupted with unwholesome creatures, deep under ground and guarded by layer and layers of blood wards, ancient spells layered one over the other.

Rosier swung the door to one of the interrogation rooms open and let her pass before him. Bella’s wand was already in her hand. The light here was artificial, blue-white, like an enormous lumos that filled the entire room with hypnotic clarity.

A man was half-lying, half-sitting on the floor, his body bent at strange angles. He had already been worked on, Bella decided. She knew that what was holding him, except for his obviously broken legs, were a few magic, invisible chains. Effective way of binding, really.

“Dearborn,” she sneered. “Not only are you an Auror but also an Order rat.” She spat at him, her black cloak swishing out behind her, the skirt of her black gown rippling around her ankles. She began to walk around him in a circle as Rosier did the same, following her around and around. They became two black shapes, circling the Auror who cowered on the cold stone floor, pretending to not cower.

“I won’t tell you anything!” Dearborn protested even as they closed in on him. “I won’t tell you anything!” he continued to scream, even as Bellatrix and Rosier began to narrow the circle, their cloaks sometimes brushing Dearborn’s arms and face. Bella knew this routine and it excited her. She felt hot with the power growing inside her, making the tip of her wand spark.

“Now, Andre,” she hissed, annoyed that here, in his domain, the elder Rosier brother was her superior.

“Wait.” They continued to move in circles, rapidly, fluidly. Black storm clouds in unnatural, blinding light. “Tell us where they are.”


They made two more circles and Rosier gave the command. “Crucio!” Bella cried, triumphantly, watching the light spring from her wand and crash into the Auror. He writhed and screamed and she was loath to let go, but they had to continue to circle and she was only supposed to cast form behind. She circled, breathing in deep when she was at his front and then exhaling her power into the Unforgivable.

No one could possibly understand the thrill of this magic the way she did. She and perhaps a few others who were considered “specialists” in the field. It had a certain feel, a certain taste, like strong, fermented wine. When the magic grew in her and was then released it was like having an orgasm. Time blurred as power radiate through and out her.

“Stop!” Rosier finally ordered. “Stop, Bella.”

She stopped, reluctantly, and lowered her wand. She wanted Rosier enter the Auror’s mind. Success