"My sister is complaining that I should stop," Bellatrix said giving a dramatic sign. "Why don't you just tell us what Dumbledore is planning?"
Time was still lost to Rigel. The last torture device Bellatrix had used was waterboarding in which RIgel experienced the sensation of drowning. His ankle was broken, Bellatrix had ripped his fingernails off him. She tried to pull his rings out but they just shocked her. Literally. So Bellatrix shot him a lightning curse that was much much worse than the cruciatus.
He didn't even know when he stopped begging, when he stopped crying and when he stopped speaking. His thoughts were muddled. Bellatrix had tried legillemency but that didn't work and she instead reopened the memories he had closed in the back of his head. He couldn't even reach out for his wand and the ropes prevented him from turning into his animagus form.
The cell's temperature varied. Most of the time, it was high enough that was covered with his own sweat, then it would abruptly drop until he was shivering with cold.
He could say, he could just say some random bullshit. But will that even get him a get-out? In the end, he would just be betraying his friends, his family, and everyone who trusted him.
And when he kept her mouth shut, Lestrange knew that too. And the pain started again.
Once again, the world became nothing but that pain. He thought, that after the first time, he might get used to it. But there was no getting used to the Cruciatus Curse.
The first four times she had used the curse, the room had been filled with nothing but his screams. By the fifth, Rigel's curses joined the mix.
He was not on his knees, but Rigel was still entirely at their mercy. He convulsed as much as possible against the chains. He would try to pull his knees to his chest, only for them to be restricted by the chains.
There were the sorry little pleas that escaped his mouth; the repeated please, please, please's, the stop, stop, please stop's. The agony wouldn't end unless he talked about Dumbledore's plans.
It tore him apart. There were never-ending tears falling down his face. The screams that soon turned soundless after his throat turns red, finally show that he's in pain. Rigel wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball against the floor, but his restraints worked against him.
He could only grasp one thought.
His name, is Rigel Black.
When the pain stopped again and Bellatrix would just leave and another death eater would come, he would spit on them and the pain would start again.
Again, and again, when he lost all semblance of reality, when he began to lose the name of his friends, his family, he remembered his own because that had to be enough. It had to be.
My name is Rigel Black, My name is Rigel Black...
Because he would survive this. He had to survive this. For his friends that she remembered when the torture would come to a halt. Four names that would slip away through those hours of pain.
Harry Potter, Eliza Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Eliza Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Eliza Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger,
He would die for them.
It was not the torture that had his throats ripped to shreds from screams that added more torment, but the thoughts of home.
It was Eliza Potter's kiss that tasted like English tea. Ron banter with Hermione and Harry's sassy tongue that he heard.
It was those reminders; the times he swore he could feel Eliza wrapping her arms around him. He could hear his father's bark of a laugh in the quiet of the room, which made him feel as if he was going insane. It reminded him that he and Harry hadn't spent enough time together this year; that he hadn't joked with Ron as much as he should have lately.
It was the moments like now when thoughts of them plagued her the most. He'd fallen into unconsciousness again when his torturers hadn't decided to relent his attack. He awoke, again, to Narcissa using a damp cloth to clean off the blood on his face. She even brought him a glass of water to his lips, and he gulped it down, soothing the dryness of his throat but agitating the soreness.
"Tell Bellatrix," he rasped, "that she's wasting his time. The order will be here soon."
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you that valuable to them?"
He paused. "No, but I am to my family."
He wondered what happened. Had Remus also been captured? No Narcissa personally mentioned that Remus escaped. He even puked at the idea of death eaters torturing Moony. If they had, he would've been spouting out everything he knew.
He probably would have informed the order and must have sent a letter to Dumbledore. He could imagine the scenario. Harry and Ron fuming, Hermione would be worried and Eliza would try and help as much as she can.
The thought that his friends might come for him was the only thing that could keep him sane in the hours without torture. He hardly slept, but when he does, he's plagued with nightmares of his torment.
"Will you speak boy?"Bellatrix had lost the babyish voice and was now deadly serious.
Rigel chuckled. At Bellatrix hair which looked like a rat's nest or at the joke he just thought off
"Tell you what?"
The knife came down. He screamed. The pleads and tears went for hours.
He was still screaming when the atmosphere shifted. He could hardly hear it over herself and the clang of his shackles and chains. But even when he heard the words, his mind didn't process them.
"There's been a breach on the wards. We're outnumbered. Three to one. We need to get to the Manor in case they decide to attack there."
The torture stopped, and it sent him reeling. He gasped breath after breath.
His body was wracked with an onslaught of sobs and tears. Breathing was hard, his sight blurred by tears.
"And what about Black?"
"Too much of a risk in his state. It's best if we leave him; he's pretty useless."
The two unfocused figures standing by the doorway disappeared. Hot tears trail down his cheeks, and he tried to grasp what was going on. But he couldn't think. He needed to breathe, but he couldn't get enough air into her lungs.
"RIGEL!"
He can hear someone shouting. He can sense it.
There's more clanging, more people moving through the house. They're getting closer. There's one person ahead of the rest, and they come to a skidding halt at the open doorway.
The intake sharply. "Dear Merlin." The voice is trembling. A noise that was a cross between a sigh and a whimper echoes through Rigel's ears.
He knows that voice. He's heard it before. It's friendly, soft. He can tell that they have crouched in front of him. He soaks up the present because even if they want to hurt him, it still means he's not alone. He hates being alone so much. He would rather die with someone he hated than die by himself.
A hand prods at his neck, pressing against his artery. The pressure makes him feel the blood that still weakly pumps. The fingers linger, and a sigh of relief drifts through the stale air.
"He's alive!"
Are they going to save him?
"Rigel?" the being breathes; the voice sounds horrified. It sounds like pity.
He struggles to open his eyes, but only pain strikes him. He whimpered, and his throat rebels and he starts coughing. His lips feel wet. They taste like blood. They smell like it, too.
Someone shouted alohomora and the chains hooked around his legs and hands snapped open. he nearly fell down but someone managed to prevent him from falling.
"It's okay, Rigel." The voice soothes, the tone is gruff, angry. "It's okay. We're leaving. I'm rescuing you from here. It's over."
Then an arm is threading beneath his shoulders, pulling him up from the chair. Adrenaline rushes through his system and Rigel weakly paws at the being, whimpering and coughing in pain. "Please stop. I'm helping you." Rigel silences. He struggles to open his eyes, and sore lids flutter open. Everything is blurry and distorted. He can make out the gray rock of his cage, and the brown hair in front of his face. His head lolls and then is caught by a shoulder. "This is going to hurt," the voice warns.
Another arm goes under his knees and then is swiftly lifted into the air. Rigel hears a distinct crack, and cries out, pushing his head into the person's neck. White-hot pain is throbbing from his midsection and tears fall down his face. The cotton under his cheek is salty and wet. Pure agony is everywhere.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," the voice rambles, sounding helpless. "mum will heal you. I promise. This is all over." Rigel struggles to breathe. "Ri, I promise. I'm getting you out of here."
"-ait." he rasps. He even has to strain to hear it.
The voice gets louder, rushed. "Rigel? What is it? What am I waiting for? What's wrong?"
His energy is draining fast. "-who're you?" he slurs pathetically. Warmth is slowly seeping through his bones. He suspects it's the work of something else. Warmth is something new. He's been cold for so long.
"Dora. Now sleep, you're safe."
He knows that name; it matches the voice. He can't figure it out, but they're offering him safety.
And if Rigel wasn't about to pass out, he'd almost laugh. He hasn't felt safe in what feels like years. Safety was a foreign word, but it sounds nice. It sounds like something he should like.
Rigel sinks against the warm chest, melting. A soft breath tumbles from his lips. There's no pain. He's blissfully free. Dora didn't even want to hurt him. He was taking him away. Anywhere but here was okay.
So he slides right into unconsciousness without so much as a second thought.
Black floods him, and Rigel lets go.