He coughs blood, and tries to sit up.
It is his own fault. For an instant - just an instant - the girl's eyes flashed a fierce, focused grey, and she looked not like Andromeda, not like the Mudblood . . . but like Bella.
Cold fingers brush against his lips and are raised again, bloodstained.
Bellatrix stares at it, this glaring evidence of his humanity.
Transfixed.
"I'd forgotten," she says softly. "Forgotten you were so . . . weak."
Rodolphus feels his fist tighten, stung.
He wasn't paying attention, he thinks bitterly.
It is his own fault.