He's going to come.
He was going to come, she knew it. As she stared at the searing Dark Mark on her arm, she had faith in him.
He's going to come.
Lord Voldemort had always rewarded these that had been faithful to the very end, and she was faithful. She knew she was.
He's going to come.
She just knew she was. If he didn't come, then..
He's going to come.
Well, she knew he'd come. There was no question whether he wouldn't. She would be saved by her Lord.
He's going to come.
Yes, he would come, and when she saw that pale face, slitted red eyes.. she would know when he came, and when he came she would carry on being loyal until the very end.
He's going to come.
She had hallucinations; visions of him would appear, reaching out to her, but as she reached out to him, to take his hand, to pull herself up.. the vision would disappear, and she'd fall back into a huddled mess of grime and dark curls and torn cloth.
He's going to come.
She waited and waited and waited, but he never came. But she knew he would come. He had to.
He's going to come.
And even if he didn't, and even if she died in this horrible, dark, grimy cell with dementors and guards that drove her insane to the point of breaking, she would be loyal. And even if he didn't arrive, and she escaped by some miraculous incident, she would go right back to him and still be loyal.
He's going to come.
She would be loyal until she died, and then more some in the afterlife.
He's going to come.
He was going to come. She felt it. Her Lord was coming to save her.
He's going to come.