Author's Notes: Endless thanks to all reviewers. I honestly couldn't have done it without you. Reviews still deeply appreciated.

)O(

When the sky darkened, Bellatrix left her flat, and slipped through the London streets to King's Cross Station.

It was crucial that she perform the spell there. In a whispered conversation, heady with serotonin, the Dark Lord had confided to her that he had dreamt that he died and was forced to remain forever. She hadn't said anything to that (she never did when the Dark Lord spoke to her of dreams or emotions. It was too delicate a field), but some lucid bit of her sex-addled brain had squirreled the information away. And when the spell books told her that the spell should be done in a place important to the soul, she had remembered, and chosen King's Cross.

There were still trickles of muggles getting on and off trains, but none of them noticed the dark lady creeping into the station and sitting against the wall.

Bellatrix waited patiently as they hurried past. She waited until a man, smelling strongly of alcohol, stumbled across her path. He wouldn't be expected home. No one would miss him. With a casual flick of her wand, she sent him down in a heap.

A little giggle of joy couldn't be stopped from burbling up. The hunger-induced delirium was settling in again, and Bellatrix felt light-headed and giddy.

Stop it! she ordered herself. Focus!

She dragged his stunned form over to the edge of the platform. He groaned slightly, and Bellatrix clutched her wand, prepared to stun again. But he just snored and his head flopped to the side before falling silent. Forcing herself to breathe slowly and deeply, she pulled the necklace from her purse, and clutched it, heart fluttering in her throat. Mentally apologizing to the Dark Lord for not giving him a better soul to feed on, she stooped and set the pendant on the drunk's forehead. She stood up straight, swaying momentarily as the blood rushed from her head, and raised her wand. But before Bellatrix had a chance to speak the incantation, the pendant jumped.

She lowered her wand and stared, perplexed, at the necklace. It was stationary. Bellatrix lifted her wand again, and opened her mouth to begin the incantation, but scarcely had the first sound left her mouth when the necklace jumped again, so high into the air that it landed on the platform floor by the drunkard's head. Bellatrix stooped to place it on his head again, but before she reached it, it jumped back onto his head.

Eyeing the object suspiciously, Bellatrix cleared her throat and raised her wand again and began.

'Vi Merlini,' she began, her voice rising into a tremulously high pitch, 'viribus magica anima dimittam hunc in obiecto virtutis.' She directed her wand at the necklace, which was vibrating violently, but was not making any more of an attempt to get away from the drunk.

'Anima dimittam a falso obiectum,' she continued, closing in and touching her wand to the necklace. The shaking object writhed. 'in t- transferatum…' Something like a shock shot up her arm, and she jumped. 'proxima…' her whole body was shaking, and she could scarcely keep her wand steady. But she had to, it was Bellatrix's one aim to complete this spell, to bring the Dark Lord into corporal form, 'v- viv-' her head was swimming, and her eyes had clouded. She was blind, and all she knew was that she had to keep her wand in place, and force out the words, 'viv- vivens…'

The wand clattered from her hand, and her body jerked backwards, twitching as violently as anyone ever had under her cruciatus curse. Her head cracked against the platform, and Bellatrix lost consciousness.