Canon: He helped in killing the McKinnions, was sold out by Karkaroff but was already apprehended.
Post:
Travers liked to consider himself to be the last of the great idealists and traditionalists. Granted, the two were on contrary ends most of the time. He was one of the few Death Eaters who bothered to use Muggle contraptions. He drove a car, he watched television, he used electricity. But there were many things he denied himself due to his beliefs.
A coffee maker for one. He felt that having one was endorsing the lazy beliefs of the Muggles who felt that any sort of appliance could help them out with anything. He scoffed at this apparent lack of responsibility. Muggles who lived in bygone times did not need a coffee maker, why should they now?
He brewed his own by magic, or, if he was feeling generous, went down to Knockturn to grab a cup there before heading off to work.
Travers worked minimally at his usual job. It was just enough to get by and to keep from getting fred. At times, he slipped and he was forced to seek employment through some other ends. He spent very little, as he found that he needed very little. Normally, his jobs were working as an apprentice to some average wizard who desired an ego boost. Other times, he aided Rookwood in the Ministry. This granted him the freedom of being independent and enable him to indulge in his private obsession.
Well, not so private anymore. No, it never was private. It was widely- known by anyone with eyes and half a brain that Scott Travers had a 'thing' for the elder Malfoy. It was logical, Travers normally told himself, that he should fall for his own so-called saviour. It had been Lucius who had recruited him at a young age, sent him to Voldemort, told him to work here, here, and here. It had been Lucius who he had worked under for so many years, being trained by the man, along with a few others, and finally being initiated into the Inner Circle after so many grueling years of doing seemingly mindless servitude.
Travers knew the Inner Circle inside out and backwards because of the years he put in with the Death Eaters. He had memorized each of them, knew their little quirks and personality traits, learned how they got to where they were. The Death Eaters might as well have been a corporate organization the way they were placed. Travers had started at the bottom and had worked his way up, perfecting his skills as so many others had done.
But he had survived where others had not. He had seen his friends fall by the wands of hitwizards or Aurors. He had tasted Death and instead of running, he embraced it. He had to in order to constantly survive in the conditions of the hell he had willingly placed himself within.
But in the end, it all came down to one thing. The meetings. No. The Meetings. The ones consisting of Voldemort speaking to the others in his biting tone, telling them of their purpose, of what they were so dedicated to. It was to this man that so many gave their lives for, that they continued to die and kill and live for.
But Travers' inspiration fell elsewhere. He lived for these Meetings to get a glimpse of the man he knew had risen to his position in exactly the same way he was doing now. For Lucius, Travers would kill, die, and live. He took up the extra projects Voldemort assigned, he yearned to prove himself not just to the Dark Lord but to the Inner Circle as well. He killed until one body blurred into another. He followed orders down to the last minute detail. He took in the fallen bodies of his comrades with a hazy eye and told himself to weep later, when he was alone. He could only afford himself so much then.
And he made it. Despite all odds, he had made it. Travers did not come from a wealthy family. he was Pureblood, yes, but there was no tradition backing behind him. Far from it. His parents did not like what he had turned into and he soon found himself disowned and seeking refuge within the houses of the other Death Eaters. They were brothers in arms wherever he moved.
More than often, though, he found himself at the Malfoy Manor, staying the night. He welcomed this change of events, pleased to be inside the dwelling place of his idol. But, alas, Lucius was rarely seen and even more rarely heard. He had met up with Narcissa more often than he cared to and disliked her purely for the reason that she was closer to Lucius than he was.
Travers did not care to define himself by means of his obsession with the blond. Nor did he care to define himself by the disappointment he felt when he had, at last, reached the top, was a member of the Circle, was as close to Lucius as he could get when the war ended. And he didn't care to be defined by the deep set hatred he felt towards Severus Snape.
It was a justifiable anger, really. He hated the man because of what Snape took from him. Snape had worked his way up and he had betrayed them all. How could someone turn their back on everything? Sure, Travers had felt more than a little hostility towards the Inner Circle when he was not a part of it, but the hostility had vaporized as soon as he became a member. He had been accepted almost immediately and had felt like the others were more his family than his biological ones.
He could not understand Snape's reasoning and this fueled his hate. More than that, Snape had sold plenty of them up the creek, including Lucius. Another unforgiveable crime. He had yearned to bury a knife into the man after the inquisitions were over and done with but a meeting had been called by Macnair, of all people.
A last Meeting, it was said. Travers had looked around for Lucius but saw no sign of him. Macnair had been the one to speak, telling them what they had to do and not to go after the ones who betrayed them. "There will come a time," he had said, "when we will rise up again. Until then, we stay low. We protect ourselves that way so that we'll be ready when the time comes."
Travers knew that Macnair was normally not so eloquent and when he approached the man at the end, he was told that Lucius was in hibernation. A kinder way of saying that the Malfoy was probably screaming his head off in the Manor, working out the demons of Azkaban.
Travers had left, taking Macnair's words to heart with him and he laid low like the others. They still communicated, still went hunting when it was safe to do so, but they remained distant, as though fearing another betrayal.
Times had changed then but they were changing back now. And now, with the mission ahead of him, glory and fame not far behind it and, most of all, Lucius' approval still raidating within him, Travers found himself defined by this new act of defiance. Rebelling with a new Cause, a new mission, and a new leader.
Wherever Malfoy led, he would follow. And so, Travers moved over to where Snape was leaving. "I'm going with."
Hear my voice, hear my voice, hear my voice
Make your choice, make your choice, make your choice
Beat the drum, beat the drum, beat the drum
Hide the sun, hide the sun, hide the sun
Devils in my head tonight
All is wrong if it's not right, take care
Whispers in the walls I hear
Nothing ever made quite clear, beware
Go to hell, go to hell, go to hell
Make me well, make me well, make me well
Show your hand, show your hand, show your hand
Make a stand, make a stand, make a stand
Angels in my heart tonight
Say the word and make it right, so dark
Angels flying in my dreams
All is never what it seems, take heart
Speak my name, speak my name, speak my name
Feel no shame, feel no shame, feel no shame
Take your time, take your time, take your time
You are mine, you are mine, you are mine
Monsters in my eyes today
I can't make them go away, it's true
Strangers in the world it seems
Nightmare visions, fever, dreams
I dream of you