(no subject)
The room is dark, but Regulus can feel how enormous it is. Or, at least, he thinks he can feel it. It might be his imagination, might be hallucinations finally kicking in. He thinks he can feel many people watching him quietly, passively. Maybe even happily. Why should Bella be the only one having fun, after all?
She steps into his line of vision, smiling viciously. She speaks, and he crumples, his screams carrying through the space. When the pain dies away, a distant, detached part of his mind notes that judging from the echos, the room must be large indeed. Voldemort's lair, perhaps?
He lifts his head and looks at Bella defiantly, though it hurts too much to speak. She smiles again and raises her wand, opening her mouth to start the pain again, when her eyes look off to the side. She closes her eyes and curtseys deeply, and that means one thing: that he finally showed up.
Regulus braces himself for the words to come out of Voldemort's mouth, knows it will hurt so, so many times more when he does it, and is surprised when, after a moment, he neither feels nor hears a thing. He opens his eyes again, looks into Bella's. He can see the mad glint in her eyes.
Then a flash of green light, and he is gone.
But he isn't gone. He lifts his head up, sees Bella with that vicious smile on her face, and knows it's a dream.
The fact that it's a dream does nothing to change the fact that a moment later pain is searing his body, over and under and through and oh lord why? it's just a dream! As it subsides, he stays curled in a ball, knowing what comes next.
He's not disappointed.
He stays curled in a ball for the next dozen, thinks absurdly that it will hurt less if he stays like this. The thirteenth time, though, the curse is a while in coming, and he opens his eyes, hoping maybe this loop has finally broken.
Instead, he looks into the eyes of everyone he's ever loved. He sees Michael's light blue ones, Sirius' grey ones, so like his own, Desire's golden ones, and others. He'd loved, if not been in love, too much in his life.
He hopes that even though he's still in the same place, even though he's not gone already, that these people are going to break the loop. They have to. They love him. They have to. They love him.
The arm raises, and he is screaming even before the curse hits him. He
wakes with a start as he hits the floor, still screaming wordlessly. He goes on for a few moments until he notices he's at Milliways again, laying awkwardly on the floor beside the bed, and not wherever he'd been that night. He sees Desire's arm draped over the side, the hand grabbing madly, and when Desire looks over the edge, concerned, he realizes that Desire'd tried to catch him. He tries to smile reassuringly, but instead he starts trembling, can't stop trembling.
He hears the bed creak, and a few moments later Desire is next to him on the floor, coaxing him gently up, holding him close when he's trembling too much to stand, helping him back into the bed and under the covers. He tries to cling to Desire, to hold onto him for dear life - or death, as he's just been reminded - but instead his knees come up to his chest and he wraps his arms around them.
He looks up at Desire pleadingly, tries to tell him what happened, failing at coherency repeatedly. In response Desire only holds him - or what he can get to of him, anyway - kissing his forehead softly and stroking his arm until he can uncurl and he gets closer, oh so closer to Desire, most of them touching, and clings. A few minutes later he tries to explain again.
"Shhhh," Desire says softly, still rubbing him softly, gently, almost tenderly. "Shh, shh, it was just a dream: It's all right now, don't worry, love, everything's all right, go back to sleep, it was just a dream, you're all right." Desire keeps this up until he's calmed down, until he's near sleep again and wakes himself up without meaning to because he's frightened.
He feels lips kissing his, soft and brief, and then the soft chant resumes. It hits him, then, that even if it's bad again, Desire will still be here when it's gone. He takes a shaky breath, whispers "'ve ou, 'nk you, love you," and then he's out.
He wakes again and again, his throat growing hoarse, but each time Desire is there, soft and soothing, until he finally dreams of tiny monkeys attacking him with toothpicks because their Evil Overlord the Queen of Clownfish has decreed it must be so.
She steps into his line of vision, smiling viciously. She speaks, and he crumples, his screams carrying through the space. When the pain dies away, a distant, detached part of his mind notes that judging from the echos, the room must be large indeed. Voldemort's lair, perhaps?
He lifts his head and looks at Bella defiantly, though it hurts too much to speak. She smiles again and raises her wand, opening her mouth to start the pain again, when her eyes look off to the side. She closes her eyes and curtseys deeply, and that means one thing: that he finally showed up.
Regulus braces himself for the words to come out of Voldemort's mouth, knows it will hurt so, so many times more when he does it, and is surprised when, after a moment, he neither feels nor hears a thing. He opens his eyes again, looks into Bella's. He can see the mad glint in her eyes.
Then a flash of green light, and he is gone.
But he isn't gone. He lifts his head up, sees Bella with that vicious smile on her face, and knows it's a dream.
The fact that it's a dream does nothing to change the fact that a moment later pain is searing his body, over and under and through and oh lord why? it's just a dream! As it subsides, he stays curled in a ball, knowing what comes next.
He's not disappointed.
He stays curled in a ball for the next dozen, thinks absurdly that it will hurt less if he stays like this. The thirteenth time, though, the curse is a while in coming, and he opens his eyes, hoping maybe this loop has finally broken.
Instead, he looks into the eyes of everyone he's ever loved. He sees Michael's light blue ones, Sirius' grey ones, so like his own, Desire's golden ones, and others. He'd loved, if not been in love, too much in his life.
He hopes that even though he's still in the same place, even though he's not gone already, that these people are going to break the loop. They have to. They love him. They have to. They love him.
The arm raises, and he is screaming even before the curse hits him. He
wakes with a start as he hits the floor, still screaming wordlessly. He goes on for a few moments until he notices he's at Milliways again, laying awkwardly on the floor beside the bed, and not wherever he'd been that night. He sees Desire's arm draped over the side, the hand grabbing madly, and when Desire looks over the edge, concerned, he realizes that Desire'd tried to catch him. He tries to smile reassuringly, but instead he starts trembling, can't stop trembling.
He hears the bed creak, and a few moments later Desire is next to him on the floor, coaxing him gently up, holding him close when he's trembling too much to stand, helping him back into the bed and under the covers. He tries to cling to Desire, to hold onto him for dear life - or death, as he's just been reminded - but instead his knees come up to his chest and he wraps his arms around them.
He looks up at Desire pleadingly, tries to tell him what happened, failing at coherency repeatedly. In response Desire only holds him - or what he can get to of him, anyway - kissing his forehead softly and stroking his arm until he can uncurl and he gets closer, oh so closer to Desire, most of them touching, and clings. A few minutes later he tries to explain again.
"Shhhh," Desire says softly, still rubbing him softly, gently, almost tenderly. "Shh, shh, it was just a dream: It's all right now, don't worry, love, everything's all right, go back to sleep, it was just a dream, you're all right." Desire keeps this up until he's calmed down, until he's near sleep again and wakes himself up without meaning to because he's frightened.
He feels lips kissing his, soft and brief, and then the soft chant resumes. It hits him, then, that even if it's bad again, Desire will still be here when it's gone. He takes a shaky breath, whispers "'ve ou, 'nk you, love you," and then he's out.
He wakes again and again, his throat growing hoarse, but each time Desire is there, soft and soothing, until he finally dreams of tiny monkeys attacking him with toothpicks because their Evil Overlord the Queen of Clownfish has decreed it must be so.