slide away {lorenzo berkshire}

72. i always knew

TW - blood, violence, torture

"You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world...but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers"
- John Green

~~~~~~~

Lorenzo Berkshire

The air was sharp with smoke as we landed on the cold marble floor of Malfoy Manor. Again.

I hated this place now. The air itself felt poisoned, every breath heavy with the weight of too many secrets, too much blood. The chandeliers that used to glitter like stars above our heads now seemed like cold eyes, counting sins we hadn't even committed yet.

I remembered sprinting down this same hallway with Cassie and Draco, racing to see who could reach the kitchen first. The laughter that used to echo here now felt like a lie.

Bellatrix was waiting for us. She prowled the length of the room like a wolf scenting fresh prey. And in her shadow, silent and still, was Mallory. No shrieking, no theatrics - just that cold stare pinned on her daughter.

Neither wasted any time with greetings.

"Bring them in!", Bellatrix ordered, and the snatchers shoved forward their catch.

Three figures stumbled into the light - dirt-streaked, bound, heads bowed. I froze for a fraction of a second, because I knew them. We all did. We'd grown up with them, sat in the same classrooms, fought on opposite sides.

Potter. Granger. Weasley.

My stomach twisted.

I told myself they weren't my concern. That this was just war, nothing more. But seeing them standing there, defenceless, at the mercy of Bellatrix, of us - it was easier when they were just enemies in theory.

Potter's face was swollen, distorted, his eyes nearly shut completely. For a moment, he was almost unrecognisable. Almost.

"Draco," Bellatrix snapped, spinning on him. "Come here. Look closely."

Draco stiffened beside me. I could see the sheen of sweat at his temple, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. He moved forward reluctantly, each step dragging.

Bellatrix clutched Harry's hair, forcing his ruined face up into the light. "Well?", she pressed, grinning like a vulture.

Draco hesitated. Too long. His eyes darted, flicked away.

I knew what he saw - the boy we used to take the piss out of, our classmate, the one who was the centre of everything. Of all of this.

"I can't be sure," Draco muttered, his voice thin, strangled.

Bellatrix's fury was immediate. She whipped toward the rest of us. "What about the rest of you?". Her wand swung like a blade. "You know them".

Theo shifted beside me, his trademark smirk tugging at his mouth like a nervous reflex. But it didn't reach his eyes. He wasn't stupid. He knew this wasn't a joke. Bellatrix was dangerous in a way none of us could control.

Mattheo leaned against the far wall, arms folded, his expression unreadable. But I caught the flicker in his gaze toward me - quick, sharp. We didn't need words. He was thinking the same thing I was: if this went tits up, it didn't matter that we were her sons, that we were... family. Blood didn't mean safety here.

My eyes drifted to Cassie.

She stood just behind me, her chin lifted, her face calm in that calculated way she had. No trembling. No stammering like Draco. Anyone else might have thought she looked bored. Detached.