Alexandra Dursley {Golden Trio}

Chapter 61 - Snape's Torture

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 Voices approached the door of the pitch dark room and Al scrambled to the corner and away. Ever since she'd seen Hogwarts again, she had a new-found strength. It wasn't physical. It was moral, emotional and defiant in every way. She would not be defeated by this. She would fight, and fight until Voldemort gave in.

 "I trust you have brought what I ordered, Severus?" Voldemort's cool voice drifted under the door.

 "Of course, my Lord," Snape's voice drawled, and Al shivered. Was he here to help her? Surely he wasn't working for Voldemort? "I do ask why, though? Is the Cruciatus Curse insufficient?"

 There was a pause, then Voldemort's voice spoke again, "She has become...resistant...to it. I fear it doesn't have the desired effect."

 "This will do the job," Snape's voice promised. The door swung open and light filled the room. Al glared up at the two men that entered. Hate filled every fibre of her being, as Snape swept down and crouched in front of her. "Drink," he said, holding a vial out.

 Al stared at him, disbelief and fear filling her body. Snape wasn't good - he was the worst Professor she had. But he was her Professor. There was a certain amount of trust there, or there had been. She couldn't believe he was here, standing alongside Voldemort.

 Al didn't speak. She wasn't stupid; if she opened her mouth for a second, she'd be forced to drink the potion. She sat, perfectly still and glaring at the potions professor. "Severus," Voldemort said from behind her, "quickly."

 Snape gripped Al's jaw and squeezed it open so tightly she thought he was going to snap the bones. She fought against it, but he was stronger. He poured the whole vial of potion into her mouth, and it trickled down her throat, burning like acid. She choked at the metallic taste of it in her mouth, but soon it was gone. The burning, the flavour. Gone.

 But not for long. The potion began to work on her insides. It felt like they were on fire, burning away and only spreading. She rolled over and clutched her stomach, screaming out, tears falling down her face. She hadn't cried much while she'd been here. The pain of he Cruciatus Curse was nothing compared to this.

 The fire spread up to Al's chest, and her heart pounded louder than it ever had. The pain spread to her lungs and she felt like she was suffocating, like she was dying from the pain. "Please," she said, before interrupting with a scream. She hadn't begged before, but now she wanted death more than anything. She wanted the end. She didn't need Harry or George or Draco or her parents. She just needed it to be over.

 And then it was. Her vision was black, or perhaps they'd closed the door, but their voices still drifted through her ears. "How long will it take you to brew more, Severus?" Voldemort's voice asked.

 "A few days at most," Snape's voice drawled. Al heard the door slam, and their conversation continue, drifting away. And then her thoughts cut away and unconsciousness took her.

*****

 There were shouts and screams seeping through the ceiling - a calamity raging in the world above. A loud crash was what had jolted Al awake, and it was followed by three more consecutive thuds. She stirred a little, but could hardly move. The repeated use of Snape's potion had taken its toll.

 Al heard footsteps coming downstairs, and forced herself into a ball, readying herself for what she knew was coming. They were going to give her more of that awful potion. The door handle rattled, and then the door itself flew open, light spilling into the room. "Please," she whispered, tears pouring down her face, "Please, no..."

 A pair of strong hands turned her over so her back was on the cold floor. She knew what came next, "Please," she sobbed, her voice hoarse as it tried to scream, "Don't...don't I'll do anything..."

 The hands gripped her more tightly and she sobbed harder, wanting it to be over. Every inch of her begged for death. They shook her, probably laughing at her humiliation, laughing when she cried. The hands patted at her face, jostling it around, trying to get her to look at them. But she wouldn't. It would only hurt more.

 "Al," a voice echoed, but she couldn't quite hear it. It was like she was underwater, and someone was calling to her from the surface. "Al," the voice called again, and the hands shook her shoulders, "Can you..." But it trailed off, drowned out by the ringing in her ears. And then she couldn't hear anything, or feel anything. She was gone.

*****

 Al let out a groan and rolled over, expecting to feel the stone cold floor. But instead her face met the soft fabric of a fresh pillow. The mattress beneath her soothed her aching bones and the duvet she was swaddled in kept her cosy. She wanted to stay here in this bed forever. She was never going to move.

 What had happened? Why wasn't she in the cellar anymore? Her eyes snapped open and she was met with a black ceiling. The bed sheets were Slytherin green, and a random family crest adorned the walls. She'd been moved, but where to? This was clearly the house of another dark family. Voldemort had moved headquarters and taken her with them.

 Slowly, and taking her time, Al slid off her bed and headed to the door. Her legs were weak from misuse and shook under her drastically decreased weight, but she got to the door and leaned on it for support. The handle creaked down - it was open. Cautiously, she opened the door and peered round.

 She was in a long corridor, lined with black doors identical to the one she leaned on. At the other end was a staircase. That was her way out. She was going to live if she could just find the front door. She stepped down the stairs, gripping at the banister as much as she could. Each step she took her knees shook dangerously, threatening to drop her down. But that couldn't stop her - nothing was going to stop her.

 Al reached the bottom and looked around. There were hushed whispers coming from behind a nearby door, and they seemed to be getting nearer. Panicking, she rattled all the door handles, coming up unsuccessful each time. Most of them were locked.

 Finally, Al found one that opened. She peered round over her shoulder and stepped backwards into the room, checking that no one had followed her. The door closed with a click and she leaned against it, heaving a long sigh of relief.

 Someone sniffed behind her. She wasn't alone. She turned around and stared at a long table filled with serious people she'd never met. It appeared she walked into a Death Eater meeting. The person who had sniffed stood up, and Severus Snape walked towards her.