AN: New story… This will be my only HP story I'll be focusing on… Think I'm going to delete my old rubbish… Going to update as often as possible, but as well as writing this I'm writing a CCS one called recoil, however this is one of those stories that's been snowballing around in my head and needed to escape! Enjoy. Things might get crazy.

This chapter may also be really short, but it needs to be here. Usually my chapters are rather long!

Disclaimer: I only own ideas- I own nothing to do with Harry Potter.

Chapter One

Everything looked the same. Exactly the same. No matter how far she had walked, no matter how many of those ugly little stones she kicked and watched skitter in the distance, everything just looked the same.

Sand. Everywhere. It blanketed the ground and stretched as far as she could see before her through the fog. For when the sand ended, the fog began. Thick, desolate and white, marrying the sand as the sky met the earth and taunting her as she tried to find a place somewhere that wasn't covered in it. Sand and fog. Not forgetting a few random stones. But all there had been, ever since, was sand and fog.

No nightfall, no twilight. Just blinding white sand and fog all over the place, blanketing everything and refusing to just move out of her way. If they were damn wizards they would know to move out of my way. Her thoughts were grim, her mind marred from years of abuse and darkness, and this damned sand and fog.

She had slept, on the floor, on the sand. It reminded on her of times gone by where she had slept where she had dropped, but also of times when she had slept in a decadent four poster bed and relished in the feeling of silk on her skin. However, now, she had no idea what was going to happen.

When she had 'died', she should have known that the half-wit that hit her with such a 'fatal' curse would not do the job properly. They just couldn't- none of that damn group could do such a thing as even speak the Avada. What did they think was going to happen to them? Eternal damnation? Maybe that's what this was.

"Damn filthy blood traitors!" She muttered, kicking another rock at her feet and sitting on the sand, moving her long locks out of her face.

"How is it possible to bugger up a killing curse!"

Her screech fell on deaf ears, for she knew also that no one else could hear her. She wasn't sure if she cared. She didn't ever care about much, apart from one person, apart from him. Her master, her friend- better than her useless husband she'd been married to. He never understood her like he did, the idiot. Didn't have such bloodlust, didn't have such guts. He'd been a liability at points evenand she'd wished him away, but being who she was, he didn't seem to bother her much really. Just when he spoke. Like most people.

She had, long ago, decided that she had known the fate of her master. Well, not long ago, but when she'd been dumped in this hell-hole for long enough to sit and consider that she'd probably have been returned by know if he won. Could she be returned? She didn't know, but somewhere in her head she knew he might try.

For, she missed him. She needed the life he provided and the freedom he gave her to unleash what was inside. She had, almost, shed a tear, but no. She was incapable of such things, incapable of these touchy feely human emotions that others had. What a waste of energy. No, instead of sorrow, there was always revenge and anger, and the curses that could come out of ones wand in such a rage. Hell, there's not even a need for a wand. So she had walked, and walked, every day through this white laden land to try and discover something about where she was, fuelled by bitter resentment for the fate her master had befallen and for those who had placed her there.

Perhaps the white was a sign. A sign that she should have done better things with her life. Bollocks to that as well.

Sighing, she stood, moving forward. She did not know if she had walked in circles, probably crossed the same place a thousand times for all she knew. But she didn't care, because she understood that her mission was to get back. Or if she couldn't, she was sure that someone outside this place might know that she could return, and when she did, she would avenge her master.

She smiled, a crooked grin adoring what could have been such beautiful features on someone perhaps less perturbed.

Oh yes, she thought, I'm coming back somehow.

With a heave of her dark skirts, she stood, feet sinking slightly into the sand as she moved forward.

For Bellatrix Lestrange was going to return to the Wizarding world. And Bellatrix Lestrange did not take kindly to being victim of a messed up killing curse, or her master's demise. She wanted pure revenge.

AN: No Dramione yet I know, but as I said this chapter needs to be here. R&R!

Maria x